#my plants were under a grow light for most of their lives cuz the apartment was awful for plants

[rarestereocats]

finished moving what we needed and wanted from the apartment. not even sad to leave that fucking place cuz it was so awful. the house has been nice, but there’s still so much unpacking to do. wanted to start an outdoor garden, but have to wait until next year cuz it’s so late in the season. 

my neighbor down the street has her whole front yard made into a garden and i’d love to have something like that, but i don’t think our landlord would be okay with it. she doesn’t mind the garden idea though. but a full garden yard would be pushing my luck, i think.

[spooky-activity]

Just a little update on Cassandratopia 2: Electric Boogaloo (Or as it stands in my Google Docs folder rn, A Helping Hand). I’ll put it under the cut cuz it’s kinda long. 

I just wanted to say that I’m still planning on actually doing it, despite all evidence to the contrary lol 

I did Cassandratopia in a haze of graduating from college(where I was studying animation) and just having ended my first dnd campaign as a dungeon master (which went 3 years!). I was fishing around for internships, but since the pandemic had just kicked off I wasn’t having much luck. So I had a lot of creative energy that wasn’t getting channeled anywhere, and a lot of free time when I wasn’t applying to places. Which is how I did 4 pages a day several times per week. Which was insane. 

As it stands, I’m running 2 dnd campaigns(one meets weekly, the other every other week or so), and just scored a full-time internship at a video game company! The campaigns I’m running are a homebrew open world, which, for those of you who aren’t too familiar with dnd, is a metric fuckton of work to prep for each session because I have no idea what my insane friends and siblings are going to try and do every time we play. 

Anyways all this to say that my storytelling itch is kinda. Sufficiently getting scratched atm and I have a lot less free time. I’m still plucking away at the setting/refining the story of A Helping Hand, but it’s largely on the backburner. Cassandratopia was also, uh, like the first story I’ve ever told in any sort of format besides the give-and-take of dnd, so... I’m not used to having so much control over the narrative. Oddly. I’ve never thought of myself as much of a writer of stories; my main focus is character animation, so someone else is usually writing the stories I’m telling anyways, which is super cool with me. Honestly I’m surprising myself with how much I want to tell this story, which is why I’m still sure I’m doing it. Just. Slower. Than Cassandratopia got done. 

But I’ll share a bit of the lore I’ve been cooking up! Specifically about Zhan Tiri and The Drops. The story will be told in an extremely dnd type setting, because that’s the kind of narrative I’ve told before and am comfortable telling: hard magic rules, neat fights, scary monsters, a dash of eldritch horror, and huge emphasis being put on magical artifacts(kinda like in the show!). Here’s some stuff that’s basically locked-in. 

Zhan Tiri

Zhan Tiri is one of the many Demon Lords of the Abyss. She’s kind of a mashup of two of my favorite Demon Lords, Zuggtmoy, the Lady of Rot and Decay, and Pale Night, the Mother of Demons and Queen of the Night(with just a dash of Hannibal Lecter because who doesn’t like helpful, polite, manipulative-ass bitches lksjflkja;fj). Her domain sits almost exactly between the Sundrop and Moonstone, largely being the new growth that comes from death, and the endless cycle of life and death. Places where her influence is strongest includes the cracks in... Well anywhere really, from society to the planet’s shell, where metaphorical or physical rot could grow; musty, mostly ignored places where something could fester. Iconography related to her would include endless mazes, fungi, grasping skeletal hands, and rotting/blooming corpses. Her spores can animate corpses, which she likes to use as mindless minions when she doesn’t feel like sending one of her Acolytes. She shares a scrap of her power with those few mortals she likes. She appreciates ambition and the desire to Grow to be bigger than what you were to start with, as those are qualities she herself possesses. 

Incredibly intelligent and merciless to those she deems her enemies, her main thing is pulling the strings from the shadows and seeing just how far she can push people to act with as little prompting from her as possible. She does, however, have the power to kinda bulldoze her way through things if she needs to, but she doesn’t like to because where’s the fun in that? 

She first gained interest in the Material Plane when a Wizard with too much hubris from said Material Plane(Named Demanitus) contacted her trying to figure out more information about The Drops and how to control them. After indulging him for a bit, she started preparing to make a summer home on the Material Plane because it’s New and Fun here and Wow These Mortals are Really Fun to Mess With! And some of them she even genuinely liked! Demanitus then realized his mistake and locked her away in Pandemonium for what he hoped was forever, but turned out to be only around 1,000 years, due to the efforts of her followers. Her little stint in Pandemonium magnified the more... Chaotic aspects of her personality, so now she wants to cover the Material Plane in blooming mazes of fungal crops that she can break people with at her leisure. 

The Drops

The drops are two semi-sentient pieces of one original artifact, whose original purpose was to be a tool of creation for the gods. Which, through some great calamity(still deciding that one), got sundered and settled into the two basic aspects of creation: the nearly unlimited well of life-energy which organizes stardust into planets, cabbages, and kings, and the “you gotta crack a few eggs to get an omlette” destructive force which breaks down what the sundrop makes so that it can make more. 

The main goal of the drops is to reunite. I would want to as well if I was ripped in half! This manifests as a... General tug in the direction of the other drop. A desire in the host to Go That Way. It can be resisted, and even ignored for a bit, but it’s always there. Like being hungry if starving wasn’t a danger. Just a bit uncomfortable if you aren’t going That Way, but ignorable. 

Both drops generally try to be as helpful to their wielder as possible, as originally they were a tool of creation to the gods. They are innately obliging. They’re also REALLY UNSAFE FOR MORTALS TO BE MESSING WITH. The Sundrop is a little safer because the most it can do is kinda. Overcharge you into something distinctly not human but still alive, and King Fredrick was lucky he made the Sundrop into soup before giving it to Arianna. But King Edmund got his wholeass arm blasted off for touching the Moonstone. 

The Sundrop

Best I could whittle it down, the Sundrop has power over life energy, like the sun’s light. It also has power over the energy derived from geothermal activities, so deep sea creatures Are Not Immune To The Sundrop, which was a funny thought that crossed my mind that they could be, but that will likely never come up anyways salkdjf;ljsf It is, in its basest form, Growth and Progress. 

It’s a little sentient, but very much entrenches itself into whoever is holding it at the time. Like another mind looking through your eyes and seeing what you see/feeling what you feel while still retaining a bit of individuality from the host. It’s not... Parasitic because it’s in its nature to give, but it’s generally pretty firmly attached to whoever is holding it until they die( which isn’t usually for a WHILE. It ’infects’ a new host when one dies, usually a plant near their grave...) or until a solar eclipse. It wants what they want, but it’s very fussy so they have to ask it for power exactly correctly(like singing an incantation every time you want to heal someone, or doing a Ritual involving lots of very specific ingredients, Celestial Alignments, and Secret Words) or it won’t listen, like an orchid dying if the ph balance is off in the soil by a little bit. But it’s generally pretty intuitive to use, because it wants what you want and (as long as you ask right) is willing to help. 

Anyways basically under the influence of the Sundrop you get a few things: 

Basically limitless energy coursing through your body while you’re in a place with sunlight, which equates to rapid healing, mostly, because every cell in your body is being supercharged with free energy. Never getting exhausted in direct sunlight. (If Rapunzel lived in a place that was sunny 24/7 like near one of the poles she wouldn’t have to sleep like. until it started to get dark in the opposite half of the year. Then she’d have to sleep like a regular human being)

You stay at your prime, or if you are past it, revert to your prime. Someone who is holding the Sundrop, or who has regular access to the Sundrop’s magic can’t die of old age or illness. They have to be hurt beyond the Sundrop’s ability to heal or have it taken away from them. 

The ability to share this rapid healing with others (if you ask right)

The ability to freely draw on the raw, near-limitless energy of the sun to shape into things like cool-looking energy blasts (only if you ask right) 

The Moonstone

The moonstone has powers over varying levels of destruction: from destroying things by ripping them apart/ to Not Letting Things Be Destroyed(also known as protecting) by freezing them in indestructible rock. Like the moon, it can ‘reflect’ a bit of the sundrop’s power, so it can kinda provide energy, albeit a lot less than the sundrop can provide. It’s the inevitable march of The End of All Things, fertilizing the fields of time with the ashes of the old so the new can take root. 

The Moonstone is a bit more in the dark(pun intended hehe) when it comes to bonding with someone, it can only try to figure out what is going on based off the emotions of its wielder, and through anything directly touching the Black Rocks. Because of this it’s... Kinda dumb? It tries to do things to help(Like shooting red fear-rocks to try and scare away whatever must be scaring its wielder so badly) but often fails spectacularly at helping. 

Under the influence of the Moonstone you get: 

Mortals get Neat Body Armor that’s actually just you being turned into a rock! They are very fragile! They need to be protected! The best the Moonstone can do to try and preserve you is to Stop All Destruction by.. Pausing all bodily functions indefinitely. Rocks don’t need to eat, sleep, or breathe, and almost nothing can destroy you if you’re solid Black Rock. The weak reflection of the Sundrop’s energy keeps the host animated, but they’re not exactly alive anymore. Like cryostasis. Wounds (if any) acquired in this state won’t be a problem because they’re not messing anything up, because nothing is technically working in the first place, but they will be a problem when you’re not protected in this way anymore. It’s a cosmic ‘I’ll deal with that later’ button, essentially. 

Like the moon, the Moonstone can reflect the light of the sun. It uses its rock crystals to do so, which can even split the sun’s power into different shades, like a prism. Essentially, different colored rocks can mean new and exciting power sets. 

Blue Lightning! The Moonstone can reflect the Sundrop’s power, so it also has access to pure bursts of energy, even if it is weaker and colder. 

The Moonstone is very helpful, but usually has no idea what you want. ‘Asking’ the Moonstone for more control over its power in the same way you would Ask the Sundrop for more power reminds it of the perfect bond it used to share. The Moonstone’s incantation deepens the bond between wielder and Moonstone in such a way that it actually knows what you want from it, giving you near perfect control of its powers.

*This is kind of just a side note of the Drops: While the Moonstone is weaker than the Sundrop in an head-on fight, it could hold its own if it were on the defensive. Redirecting the power instead of trying to overpower and such.

** Cass made of rocks means I get to draw her skeleton :) not in every picture that would be fucking nuts and way too much work alskjdf;lkjs;fv

[reelwriter19]

Black and Blue

Pairings: Kevin Atwater x Black Reader 

Summary: With all that’s going on in the world, I wanted to explore things from Kevin’s perspective. What’s it like for him and his family, existing on both sides of the spectrum? 

*Title inspired by one of my favorite Chicago PD eps

Attempting to soothe your 4 month pregnant and agitated stomach, you got in your cousin's face, finger pointed, rage on high.

“As much as you want to refute my choice of a life partner, Detective Kevin Atwater is the reason your dumbass isn’t in a jail cell right now...or worse.”

“So now I’m a dumbass?!”

“YES!”

“You don’t think what we’re doing out there is important?! Did you sell out when he put that ring on your finger or was it the day he wrote the down payment check for this bougie ass loft you’re livin’ in?!”

Without hesitation, you smacked Brian across the face, just as Kevin walks in to the front door. Already changed out of his riot gear, he dons his usual black hoodie, dark jeans and combat boots. He holds a beat on locking away his gun, as he’s not quite sure what he’s walking into.

“Baby, you good?”

You and Brian are still staring each other down. You finally break the silence, with gritted teeth.

“Get out of my house.”

Brian slowly backs away from you, being sure to glare disapprovingly at Kevin on his way out. Locking the door behind him, Kevin continues his routine of securing his gun as you walk over to him crying.

You weren’t quite sure if it was the adrenaline from the fight you just had with family, the worry for your husbands safety out on the currently extra dangerous streets or the pregnancy hormones, but all you wanted was Kevin’s hands on your body.

As you reached up to place your arms around his neck, he obliged and pulled you into a passionate kiss. Within seconds, your legs were wrapped around his waist as he carried you up the stairs into the bedroom, slowly lowering you on to the bed. He hovered over you, gently reaching down to kiss the remaining tears away. You removed his hoodie and proceeded to let him know just how glad you were to have him safely home in one piece.

_________

Hours later, the two of you were absently wrapped in sheets. Kevin sat up, his back against the headboard, while you laid across his lap. With one hand intertwined with his, you used the other to trace the solid ridges of his stomach.

“Y/N…”

“Hmm?” The deep sound of his voice breaking you out of a trance.

“I don’t want you to be mad at Brian.”

You sit up to turn and fully face him. The look of curiosity and annoyance growing across your brow.

“Kev...the things that he said...what he’s doing out there? You saved him tonight from the possibility of not making it back home and he couldn’t even say ‘thank you’? He’s a disrespectful little...”

“But Y/N, I get it. The way Brian grew up, hell the way we grew up, he was trained to hate people like me. Do you remember how reluctant you were to date me when you found out what I did for a living?”

“Of course. I was pissed cuz you didn’t tell me right away.”

“Exactly, but I didn’t because I wanted to make sure I had you before your opinion of me was tainted by what you thought a Chicago cop was like. Y/N, Brian never had that chance. Sure I’m married to you and by default he’s family, but that deep seeded hatred takes years to undo.”

“True, but you guys in Intelligence…”

Cutting you off with a touch to your cheek.

“We’re a rare breed baby. You know that. Just think of all that nonsense I had to fight off two years ago with Doyle’s people. They’re the majority. They’re the ones who don’t care about Brian’s life and they’re the reason why he was out there looting with that group after others protested peacefully downtown for hours. And you know good and well that if circumstances were different…”

Kevin slightly repositioned himself over you, placing light kisses on your pregnant belly.

“...if you weren’t cooking my beautiful baby girl in this sexy ass oven…”

Smirking as you playfully swatted his hand “Boy! I told you I want a boy…”

He rolled his eyes at you while further pinning you down under him. Unable to move, you gazed upon your husband as he proceeded to have a full on conversation with the child growing in your stomach. Although annoyed at the topic of his current Ted Talk, you truly loved these moments. Being black in this country was hard enough. Adding to that, your choice as a couple to stand with a foot on both sides of the spectrum of black and blue, it was a rare occasion when the love of your life was allowed to put his guard down and just be a man. You came back to reality when he purposely grazed your sensitive skin with his beard.

“Listen baby GIRL...mamas gonna try to act tough when you get out here, but I got your back, ok?

Laughing reluctantly and whining in protest and for him to move… “Stop it! That tickles!”

Kevin relented and moved up, gazing deep into your eyes. The look on his face as if he was ready to put another baby in the oven. You bit your bottom lip. As you each moved in closer for a kiss…there was a sudden urge...

“Great, now I have to pee!”

He burst into laughter as you untangled yourself from his limbs and the sheets and scurried to the bathroom.

“Shut up!”

_________

The next morning, you awoke to a text from Brian.

My bad cuz...I ain’t mean that shit.

Brian was never verbose and you knew him sending just that simple message took a lot. You were about to respond when you heard voices downstairs. You had expected Kevin to be at the District by now. He previously had a routine of waking you up before he left, no matter the hour, but that became less frequent once you got pregnant, deciding to text you his whereabouts instead. His voice ringing in your head now...

“You need to be well rested, Y/N.”

You got up, put some comfortable clothes on and went downstairs. To your surprise Kevin was sitting at the dining room table with his partner Adam and your cousin Brian. It looked like they had been planted in their seats having a heated discussion for hours. You stood in shock and then walked over to the kitchen to make some tea.

Adam was the first to break from the tense meeting, walking over to greet you with a hug and a peck on the cheek after you placed the kettle on the stove.  

“Morning, Y/N, you’re lookin’ beautiful as always.

With a chuckle, “Hey sweetie...you’ve always been such a good liar...I appreciate that.”

“I'm serious girl, you look great. I told Atwater if he acts up…”

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Kevin yelled from the dining room as he approached. He and Ruzek were like brothers. He’d stood by Kevin’s side through it ALL, unwavering in his loyalty, so it was only natural that, as a brother, he also knew which buttons to push to irk him the most.  

Kevin punched him in the arm and Adam reciprocated with a swat to the back of Kevin’s neck. You shook your head and laughed, proceeding with the business of putting the kettle on the stove….this boyish nonsense was routine.

Both deciding there could be no winner in this moment, they finally calmed down. “Man chill out, you’re gonna upset my goddaughter.”

You immediately rolled your eyes and sighed as you grabbed your favorite mug from the cabinet. “Daughter...I see he’s gotten to you too huh?”

You darted a look at Kevin, which he avoided, clearing his throat with a  smirk.

“Adam, are you hungry?”

Walking past the guys into the dining room, you offered an olive branch to your cousin as well, who still sat at the table in deep thought, “Brian, you want anything to eat? I can make some breakfast.” He looked up at you and rose from the table. You were startled by the look of both sorrow and determination in his eyes.

“I’m good cuz.”

He gave you a quick hug and exited the apartment.

You turned to Kevin and Adam for an explanation. “What just happened?”

Kevin spoke up first.

“I called him. He was pissed when he saw Adam here at first but I needed him to get it. I wanted him to understand why I still do this job everyday. That we haven’t sold out. We haven’t abandoned our people, I’m doing this for my people. It’s hard as hell but people like Adam, Intelligence...it’s a family, and we’re doing what we can at least to make this shit a little better.”

“How did he take that?”

Adam retorted, attempting to break the awkwardness, “Well, Brian didn’t try to hit me in the face, so I guess you can say it went alright?”

You snorted. With Adam’s sarcasm and Brian’s temper, you knew that was no small feat.

“Ok man, I’m gonna head out. I’ll catch up with you at the district.” Adam pounded Kevin’s fist and made his way to the door, but not before one last jab. With a wink to you, “Bye baby…”

“Bro! Get the hell out!”

With a mischievous laugh. “What?! I was talking to my goddaughter!”

You couldn’t help but laugh too. “BYE Adam!”

Kevin walked towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your hands rested lightly on his strong arms.

“How many people have you told that we’re having a little girl?”

“Not many...I mean, the people down at the 21st of course…”

Hitting his chest… “Kevin Atwater! We haven’t even officially checked yet! Such a man.”

He tilted your face up to look directly at him. “What’s wrong with me wanting a girl, Y/N? If she’s anything like her beautiful mama, she’ll be strong, graceful…” His words slowing down as he was sure to kiss your face after proclaiming each of the attributes he adored.

“...independent….smart.....beautiful.”

Per usual, you were becoming puddy in his arms. “You said that one already.”

He squeezed you tighter, hoping to stay in this moment a little while longer. Your face buried in his chest, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For trying to make it right with Brian. For reminding me why I chose to stay with you. For reminding me how easy it was to fall in love with you even after I found out you were a cop. I’m proud of you babe.”

No sooner than the two of you became lost in eachother again, the kettle whistled loudly on the stove. Kevin moaned against your lips in protest as you wiggled away from him to take it off the stove.

Trailing right behind you, he smacked your butt and then reached for you. Longing for the comfort of your body to hold flush against his chest. You turned the stove off and allowed him to engulf you in his arms from behind. Your fingers interlocked with his as they rested comfortably on your stomach. You each looked down for a moment at your growing belly.

Neither of you discussed it often, but there was an innate fear of what it meant to birth a black child into this world. Things had changed, yes, but the cases Kevin was exposed to and the systemic racism that still existed, as obvious in more recent events, was enough to make any future parent uneasy.

One day, when Kevin found you deep in your thoughts, he reminded you that he would never let you shoulder that burden alone. You and his unborn daughter were his world. Everyday that he chose to put that badge on, he was doing so with the intention of making the world around you and for generations to come, a little bit better.

“I have to get to work.”

You turned to face him. “I know...just make sure you come back to us.”

With a kiss to your forehead and another placed softly on your lips. 

“Always. I love you.”

[phoebehalliwell]

Asking the important question about Bianca x Chris In the change!future : who fall in love first ? And who say i love you first ?

Because we got Chris, who believe in soulmates and destiny but also who probably think no one will love him like that because, insecurity. And Bianca, who simple does not believe in love. A great match, full angst / unrequited love potentiel

i’m gonna like. link my entire chris/bianca anthology just because i love talking about them

chris + love a, b, & c

bianca + general phoenix lore a, b, c, & d

chris & bianca: a, b, & c

it’s under a cut 🥰💞💕

i mean like short answer is i think they both say i love you about a million different times a million different ways before either of them kinda drops those words like. like i think for chris i love you is a really common phrase for him like growing up it's just like all around his household he has about constant exposure to three health marriages everyone in his family like they all like each other for the most part. well like um. they all love each other, that's guaranteed. the like can sometimes fluctuate. so it’s not like he’s uncomfortable with the phrase it’s just like. it’s big. real big. and you know i don’t know but you grow up around wyatt and you grow up around cupids and all these really grandiose ideas of love and love is all around us it’s the air we breathe it’s the crucial tether of human existence love is epic love is iconic love can stop the rotation of the earth like that shit. like i mean he looks at his parents (and at the versions of paige/henry and phoebe/coop that live in my head) and like. love was a fight. it was this epic pull that caused them to go to the ends of the earth for each other you know hell they were ready to risk death to get married you know that must be like this epic heartstring tugging feeling in your just red string of fate yanked so hard it almost hurts and like. that’s just not what chris has. it doesn’t feel at all like that. it’s just comfort. nothing more, nothing less, really. he just feels 100% wholly comfortable and safe around bianca it’s not like. it’s like he thinks in order to be In Love in love it has to hurt a bit you know nothing comes for free and being with bianca just isn’t. it doesn’t hurt. just spending lazy slow time with her it doesn’t feel much like anything it’s just nice. it doesn’t like. move stars rip a hole in the earths crust. he doesn’t feel this burning ache. it’s just. being with her. it feels safe it feels normal it’s just like it’s normal!! this is what normal feels like not the constant nagging voices in his head own insecurities playing on a loop not you know the constant ever-present knowledge of the next demon battle there’s always gonna be another one not who is he as the son of a charmed one what will he do what will he be. like none of that’s there with bianca. it’s just normal.

and of course all the cousins draw straws on who gets the honor of whacking chris on the head with a hollow tube saying that is love dingus because like. again he’s probably aired out his thoughts to like wyatt or somebody maybe melinda if she pried maybe henry if he pried where like. because obviously they’d be interrogating on hey what the fuck’s going on over there because like. soulmatism all that everyone’s watching like you get it right you’re in love and chris gives his whole stance on like blah blah blah it’s gotta hurt i don’t feel that i just like bianca. and whoever they’re talking to. maybe kat? if just thinking about all chris and bianca have been through together all the times they like nearly died in each other’s arms like are we not counting that?? is that not enough for epic love right there? this is a really long yarn to basically say i think chris would be in love with bianca for a really long time and just genuinely never have the word for it you know just like stupid but are we not all fools in love?

i think bianca would say it first because she definitely picks apart their relationship in her head a lot more that him because like that’s just the person she is because like phoenix are not supposed to fall in love. you’re loyal to your family. you respect your family. and by extension, they are who you love. because you have no one else to love. no one else knows the true you, and no one else would be capable of knowing and loving the true you like your family. everyone else would rather see you dead. so i think she picks apart the concept of love and what it means to her a hell of a lot more than chris ever does. because i think from the start. you know it’s kind of an enemies to lovers situation.

okay so here’s my current sketch of what i’m doing with them in the light timeline because like. let’s face it. killing a charmed one is impractical. it’s an immense risk, one i think the phoenix would never take. also like. if bianca was sent to kill chris i really think she could do it respectfully chris is powerful he’s talented he’s smart i still think bianca could kill him. and then, of course, if you kill a charmed one, then you have the rest of the family after you and at this point it’s a really big family. and yes you could plant evidence throw them off the scent but again you’re dealing with like. 10 whole ass experienced trained powerful witches? how long does that last? and for what. what price could that ever possibly be worth? i get wanting to kill a halliwell on your own your own personal business risk v reward, but the phoenix are a neutral power they do not care. the only skin they have in the game would be the price on chris’s head an i literally can not think of a single thing that would be worth the wrath of the warren line, a family that presently does not give a shit about you, you know?

okay i’ve aired out that opinion. so that being said. what do? so you remember the evil cult from prince charmed and they thought wyatt was their leader and they wanna flip his morality but they failed? yeah and they didn’t all die right. like some of them escaped. the Point is: concept is they’re going for round two, but they don’t wanna make it obvious because if they flip the morality then everyone kinda knows who did it and how because it’s happened before. so hear me out they are casting or they are contracting the phoenix to cast that basically wipes any memory of them ever existing off the face of the earth. phoenix, of course, will be immune, as will their library collection on them because fuck you that’s why and then the members of the cult will be immune tho gotta say. would be hilarious if they forgot that part and then everyone just went home in their funny lil robes like huh wonder where that came from. the issue is chris. cuz he was there. but he’s not him. you know? i don’t think the cult fully knows what’s going on right but like. that’s definitely chris who definitely like single-handedly thwarted their plans. except he wasn’t even alive yet. so they need chris’s memories resurfaced so they can wipe them, otherwise they run the risk of the memories resurfacing at a Very inconvenient time. so that’s bianca’s job. the how they do not know or care about they just need him to have memories of season 6 so the can promptly wipe them. no murder necessary.

but still has weird shit magical invasion of privacy happening and probably a witch fight. blah blah blah i have ideas that i shan’t expand on right now bianca doesn’t lose but chris doesn’t win. no i will expand on actually. i think lynn bianca’s mother knows kinda what’s going on here with the cult’s scheme to create evil!wyatt and the phoenix have done their research and then know that they can survive perfectly fine in a evil wyatt regime and the cult has promised them immunity + powers in their new world order or whatever. so on paper, fine. but lynn’s way overprotective overbearing mother knows best types you know like she will do about anything for her daughter so when future bianca came she definitely used a scrying bowl kinda like what we see the stillman sisters use filled with kid bianca’s blood because that’s really the only way she has to see where bianca’s going what she’s doing and she gets to see evil wyatt kill bianca. so lynn’s actually very much not game for this actually. and i think she if not explicitly tells bianca what’s up at the very least plants seeds implying that she should not go through with this plan.

so when chris proposes instead her teaming up with him to take down the cult, in exchange offering the protection of the charmed ones (which is really the best thing he’s got to offer besides like. a punch card for a free sandwich at ike’s that only needs two more punches.) and bianca takes the bet. and they already have one fist fight under their belt between the two of them that ended in a terse treaty and not they gotta go complete a mission together. and i think that’s kind of like the jumping off point for their relationship is assorted missions together but before things can get Too Chummy chris has an innocent or something to protect and who is trying to kill them well um bianca. zoinks.

basically i think every time bianca aligns herself with chris, in doing so, she aligns herself against the orders of the phoenix. and every time she has to ask herself: is it worth it? and usually like in the case of Murder, the answer is yes. honestly, she’d rather not take an innocent’s life for some rich asshole. but in the case of the initial cult, that was a selfish move. she doesn’t want to die. is that so wrong? and there’s kind of this repeated team chris or team phoenix motif going on where the actual answer does not lie with either of them again the phoenix are on contract that’s not their motive you know they don’t personally care about what happens and then. she’s never picking chris per se it’s not like she’s choosing him she’s choosing and innocent or she’s choosing herself but that just always happens to be the side where chris is.

and also like. they work well together. they just do. so once bianca kinda like. needs to do something dangerous and her first thought is call chris then she kinda has to take a step back and go hmmm. because chris knows who she is right he knows she’s a murder cold blooded killer phoenix (chris, actually, has not seen her murder any innocents in cold blood in fact he has only seen her opt Not to do that but like. bianca has her own vision of herself) and she’s just not. friends with anyone who knows. again not that she would consider her n chris friends but he is like literally the only one who Knows her outside of the phoenix. and that’s weird. Even Further Step Back when she has to do something dangerous and at this point that’s all she does with chris but she Doesn’t want to call him because hey that’s dangerous and i don’t want him to die. which she justifies under the same Death of a Halliwell rule in that the charmed ones might go after her but even she kinda knows that’s bullshit but like. does she really wanna face the music on this one?

so basically while chris’s relationship is very in the moment he’s goin with the flow here he doesn’t know what’s going on where this is going he only has what he feels Right Now. bianca on the other hand is like how does this tie into the past what does this spell out for the future and it keeps circling back to the question is he worth it and bianca kinda hates but the answer every time is yes. she would rather spend time with him be with him fight alongside him than any other option. but to her, that’s still a long way out from love because like. it’s alliance it’s strategic they work well together they care for each other which is more than she can say about like most other people she’d bring to a fight and at a certain point yeah they hang out because they enjoy each other’s company but like. they like spending time together. is that a crime? you can enjoy spending time with a person. but then it’s like more n more time and now yeah look at it you’re in a relationship this is a relationship but like. love?? idk. i mean it’s not like...... you know like in... hmm.... so like... okay so if i Were in love....... okay. okay hm. okay. alright. okay might actually be in love.

i also think bianca would be the one to have the notion of like the finite resource of “i love yous” and even after she’s accepted that okay she can say that she doesn’t wanna waste it she does want to save it for a moment when it means something a dramatic reveal i mean they are in a lot of life or death situations surely she can just like. drop it then. but then like idk she accidently just ends up saying it at like the grocery store. chris on the other hand says i love you all the time like once the floodgates open They Are Open and it’s like. you leave the house okay bye i love you i’m going to bed goodnight i love you i made you dinner i love you like. constant.

[walkinsauce]

Becoming Poly- Chapter 14: My Turn

Sorry I didn’t blog last week. Do you know how hard it is to write about polyamory under the same roof as your parents? I was scared one of them was going to pop in and ask,

“Christina, why do you need that bottle of wine in your room?”

“Paper weight.”

So, ya, I’m sure hundreds of self help books would call that an “excuse” for not writing, but trust me: it felt TOO CREEPY. You try to write about sex while your parents are in the next room watching My Three Sons. See how you feel.  I would, however, like to thank all my Tumblr readers for hitting the heart button on all my blogs. Quick shout outs to:

ilove-seductive-mature attractive-milf-girls hot-elder-chamber fat-milf-foxy-imgs bimbo-slutty-girlz fuck-sexy-fat-pussies fucking-amazing-fat-cunts jugs-nice-pictures

It’s good to know I’ve found my audience. Though I do wish you guys would put some capital letters in your names. You’re better than that.

I’ve calmed down from my boyfriend’s first “other sex” in our relationship. I’m pretty lucky that I have so many people reaching out to me, who are better versed in open relationships than I am. A particular comic friend in Florida always sums it up so well:

“Your primary is your home. These other people are the Disneylands and carnivals of the world. Fun day excursions, but you don’t want it every day.”

I think that’s my problem: Part of me would prefer to be the Disneyland. And good news for you, I’m way cheaper.

I still have a crush on the one guy I texted at O’Brien’s the day of my breakdown. I know he’s wary of the poly thing, and knowing my boyfriend, but I can’t help it. I’ve known him for years. I’ve had a crush on him for a year. I can’t help it if I’m a coward, and don’t know how to approach him. (Especially considering the circumstances.) Me sending him Snapchats that he’ll never open is enough of a rush for me.

It’s Friday night. I’m sitting at Ollo, as I often do during happy hour, wondering what I’m going to do when all the regulars go home at 8pm. It’s not a party city. We could use a Malibu’s Most Wanted reboot out here. But with the tiny bit of confidence I get from deep fried zucchini sticks and house wine, I decide to text my crush:

“Do you ever open Snapchat anymore, or am I sending things to an archive…?”

(With a smirky face emoji, obvi.)

He writes back minutes later.

“Hahahaha! I just watched the snaps! They made me laugh!”

It was at least a month’s worth of events, even capturing his own roommates. It must have been quite the montage.

“Thanks for sending them! I’m sorry I’m the worst. They were really funny. How long have you been sending them?”

Oh months. They’re my favorite seed I’ve ever planted.

“You might have just gotten something from me.”

I open Snapchat and see his name light up in full arrowed purple. I’m ridiculously excited for a girl my age. I’m starting to tune out the old man beside me bragging about how he gave Rosie O’Donnell her big break. That’s how you can tell I keep it real in this town- I’d much rather chase romance than my own career. (GOOD MOVE, EH?)

He writes again:

“I just finished a show in Hermosa Beach and I got to watch a lady heckle another comedian by saying, “we’re never going to be friends.”

Wow. The edginess of Hermosa Beach hecklers. What’s next? No tip? Shocking. I’m walking home, past people sleeping in their cars. At least my career is going better than theirs. But it’s a good reminder there’s no parking restrictions on PCH. Man, if any road needs some street cleaning…

It takes us another 18 texts to finally figure out we should meet up, but when he writes,

“I’d be down to meet up somewhere!”

I’m immediately wet. (It happens fast at my age.) He suggests the exact two bars in Santa Monica I was going to suggest. Power of the Leo and Sagittarius. (I probs just lost nine readers by referencing astrology.)

I get to Rick’s on Main Street slightly before him. I don’t have my real glasses on me, cuz I’ve been wearing my prescription sunglasses all day. Didn’t expect to be out past sunset, cuz that’s Malibu “night life.” So I’m going to be mildly blind all night. People always tell me,

“You should get laser eye surgery.”

Why the fuck would I do that? My glasses cover at least a dozen lines on my face. I’m thinking about getting a new pair, with thicker rims. I’m growing out bangs next. The date will be fine as long as I don’t send him into the kitchen when he asks where the bathroom is.

Now here’s the grey area…

Do I tell my bf right now that I’m going to meet this crush? I don’t know anything is going to happen. There’s a good chance we will just be two (ASTROLOGICAL PERFECT MATCHES) drinking buddies in a bar. Two comics, talking shop. Do we really need to set off the alarm before there’s a fire? As per my communication skills, I think def not. Like this blog, I will leave it till the last minute. (Typed at 3:13am, 4:45am after proofreading.)

I’m pretty sure I look like shit, but the good thing about somebody knowing me through comedy, is they always see me looking like shit. I’ve never been super comfortable looking “good” on stage. Maybe this comes from starting stand up 19 years ago, and always fearing women wouldn’t like me if I looked pretty. Most of the women in a comedy club are on dates, and I would literally get glares as they gripped their men. So early in my career, I started to wear hoodies on stage, and cover as much skin as possible. It was my passive aggressive way of saying,

“Don’t look at me. Listen to me.”

(Also, “I’m not here to steal your boyfriend. I’m here to make forty bucks.”)

This is another reason I love the rise of feminism: I pray it means the death of catty-ism. (An energy I sadly grew up with.)

So ya, back to the poly stuff: I’m on an impromptu date with my crush, my bf doesn’t really know, I look like shit, but can’t see that cuz I left my glasses at home. He walks in the bar and I’m almost in shock that we’re together. I think it’s been months since we’ve been in the same room together. And since when did I start going after things I want…?

I’m shockingly comfortable around him. That’s a plus about bonding with someone while you’re in a relationship. You don’t try as hard to sell yourself as when you’re single. You’re just you, and if they don’t like it, who cares? (I admire people who are like this all the time.)

He suggests we go to Chez Jay next. Ooooooooh, I love a new bar. Never been. So excited. Even more excited that he’s ditched his car, and will get it in the morning. I love a man who drinks responsibly. (Is this how I book a MADD commercial, or do I still need to have babies?)

Chez Jay is great. I like having bars like this on my radar. The conversation is going steady, tho I’m praying my primary and polyamory doesn’t come up. I just want to enjoy this night, as it is. The same way I did as a single person. I really don’t want to dive into the politics of it all. I think I’m more terrified that talking about it will scare him away…

When Chez Jay closes, he asks me if I wanna come over for some porch beers.

Yup. You know I do.

Again… is this the moment I text my bf and let him know I’m going over to a guy’s house? I mean technically, there’s a good chance nothing will happen. Seems too soon to ring the alarm. And if there’s one expression comedians know, it’s “too soon.”

He gets us an Uber/Lyft, whichever- most cars in town have both stickers. When we get to his house, I hit the bathroom. Every girl’s most investigative move in a dude’s house. Is his hand towel also his bath towel? Is this a one towel wonder situation? Does he own toilet paper? I don’t make it that far, because I’ve sprayed surprise period all over my undies. (If those Tumblr names didn’t scare you away, this surely will, eh?)

I search the cupboards for anything remotely handy in this moment. There’s nothing. Maybe I should hit the kitchen, and look for coffee filters. Those should work, right?

Nah, I’ll just do the ol’ “tie toilet paper around my underwear” move. It’s the move you do when you first get your period, in case you don’t know. (I FEEL SO YOUNG AGAIN! MAYBE I DON’T NEED BANGS!)

Porch beers are the best. I’m a fan of his roommates. We’re all having a great time, but then… 

Something more unexpected than my bloody kitty happens. This beautiful, young blonde chick walks up to the porch.

“Hey, I live across the street. All my friends went to sleep, so I thought I’d come introduce myself.”

Holy. Mother. Trucker. It’s 3:00am. This isn’t the moment I was expecting competition…

But here we are.

The guys grab her a beer. Now again, I am not into “catty-ism.” BUT- I am a share holder of “insecurity-ism.” And if I were any one of these guys on this porch, I would def hit on this chick instead of me. She’s legit extremely cool. There’s a part of me that wonders if this is fate’s little way of saying,

You’re not ready to pop your poly cherry yet.

I never rang the alarm. I can still get out of this… innocently?

Either way, I think she might be might be my personal savior (another word I spell wrong cuz I’m Canadian and think there’s a “u” in it.)

“Do you have a tampon?”

“Of course! Come on over!”

She takes me over to her apartment, and literally gives me all her pads cuz she doesn’t use them. Bonus. My favourite sleep aid. I fucking love this girl.

We head back over to the boys, and I know I’m drunk, bleeding and tired. I ask my crush if there’s a place I can crash. He escorts me to his roommate’s room, and tucks me in. (Don’t worry- the roommate wasn’t there. That would have been the real poly, eh?)

As I fall asleep, like a loser at a slumber party who goes to bed first, I can’t help but think,

“He’s a great guy. She’s a great girl. If they hook up, I’m fine with it.”

PRACTICE COMPERSION! Why is compersion so much easier when you’re not dating someone? I fall asleep/pass out- which ever you like to believe at this hour. In the morning, I wake up in a super funny comedian’s bed. Alone. I make the bed, as a sure fire way to say “a chick was here” and text my crush.

“Oh I wanna say bye, but I don’t know what room is yours.”

I can’t just knock on random doors… Plus he might not be alone. I def don’t want to interrupt kinky times with the pad donor. All of a sudden, one of the roommates pops out of his room. I ask him which room is _______’s and he shows me. In this moment, I know I’m risking becoming a piece of gossip my boyfriend might hear… 

And not through me…

I lightly knock on the door. When I hear a groggy “come in” I open the door.

There’s NO hot, cool, tampon savior chick in his bed. He’s just sleeping, post drinking style, alone.

“Oh, I just wanted to say goodbye…”

And then, without saying another word, I crawl into bed with him. 

[franklyshipping]

Too Late - PART 2 ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

HANG ON TO UR HATS AND GET A BEVERAGE CUZ THIS BITCH IS LONNNNNNNNNG!!!

Patience is a virtue, make no mistake. It gives you time to plan, rationalise and come up with multiple ideas and contingecies; sometimes it can be essential. However, and I can say this with reasonable certainty, this was one of the many virtues that did not reside within Wilford Warfstache. He was seething on the couch, mind still processing the sensations he’d just endured. His shock was what kept him stationary, for just over an hour at least.

He started by sitting up, since he had to start somewhere. Then he stood. Most conveniantly, there was a full length mirror against one of the walls and Wilford decided to fix himself up. He uncrumpled his shirt and straightened his suspenders, emitted a dashing smirk as he wiggled his moustache in satisfaction. He set himself a steely expression and spoke aloud, he didn’t need to but it gave him more confidence.

‘Wilford Warfstache don’t take shit from nobody.’

He strode through the spacious apartment floor, turning at a pillar and reaching a kitchen area that was shared between all of Mark’s egos. Because of course they all lived in the same building. He felt his chest tighten at the sight of Dark relaxed in an armchair, perusing his goddamn literature. His eyes flicked to the counter where he saw Bim leaning lightly with his mandatory mug of tea.

Wilford grinned, things always were better with an audience.

‘Ahh Bimmy! Enjoying your plant water?’

Bim furrowed his eyebrows but chuckled lightly at Wilford’s phrasing, he set his mug down gently.

‘Uhm, yeah it’s good-’

‘Excellent excellent, now how would you feel about being an audience for me?’

Wilford’s ambiguous and slightly haphazard wording not only confused Bim hugely, but also peaked Dark’s attention. The latter was peering over his book with curiosity, oh but little did he know. Little did he know.

‘A-an audience for what…exactly?’

Wilford winked and grinned before taking Bim by the forearm and guiding him to the couch, as Bim sat Wilford darted to bring him his tea. Surprisingly without spilling a drop. Wilford looked at the set-up with satisfaction, since the couch was directly opposite Dark’s armchair.

‘Is the audience sitting comfortably?’

Wilford’s grin widened as Bim nodded gently, and without warning Wilford swivelled and latched a hand onto one of Dark’s arms. The owner of which looked up, a warning in his eyes. A warning that Wilford took no heed of.

‘Observe…’

Wilford yanked Dark off his chair with an intense strength that, unfortunately for him, took Dark off guard. He grunted as Wilford took his other arm and wrenched both limbs behind his back before forcing Dark face first on the carpet. Dark growled and struggled harshly.

‘WILFORD UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT!’

Wilford smiled happily, using his own strong aura to keep Dark’s at bay. This was too good an opportunity to miss, he turned to Bim and laughed aloud at the mortified and fearful expression he wore.

‘Is the audience enjoying the show ye-’

‘GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!!! I WILL RIP YOU APART!!!’

Wilford giggled as he transferred Dark’s hands under his knees so he had two hands free as he straddled Dark’s back.

‘So rude…’

Wilford reprimanded childishly.

‘W-wilford, is this really a good idea?’

Wilford turned to Bim and winked with a wide smirk, revelling in the whole situation.

'Of course it isn’t, but the thing is…’

He leant down to whisper into Dark’s ear with a sneer.

’…you don’t get to mock me, without repurcussions coming your way.’

Dark froze beneath him, and it was at that point Dark knew he’d fucked up. He should’ve known better but he let his pride get in the way, he grimaced and bit his lip when he felt two hands rest on his sides. Dark buried his face in the carpet, and couldn’t halt his growing smile as the fingers started to ever…so slowly…drag. Wilford was going to enjoy this.

'Wilf-ord ss-stohop…’

'Oh Dark. Dearest Darkipoo…I’m afraid you’re far too late.’

Dark’s chest shook with repressed laughter as his mouth forced a stupid grin to emerge as Wilford’s fingers tortured his sensitive sides with devious strokes. Wilford was taking his sweet time, wanting to draw out every single reaction that he could.

'I ask the audience to observe, I particularly draw their attention to my victim’s futile attempts to keep his composure.’

Wilford dug in with a spontaneous harshness making Dark yelp before a stream of deep cackling followed suit, Wilford glanced at Bim who was mostly shocked…but also gleeful. It’s how anyone would react to the opportunity of seeing Dark undone, Wilford grinned widely.

'Is the audience entertained so far?’

Bim giggled and nodded, but jumped at Dark’s harsh outburst.

'Ihihihi wihihihihill ahahahanihihihilahahate bohohohoth ohohohof yohohohou!!!’

Wilford started pinching the protruding ribcage before him, working atop and in between each bone as he tested their sensitivity. He was not disappointed.

'Wihihihihilfohohohohohord!! Stahahahahap thihihihihihis!!!’

'Awwww, has Darky got ticklish ribs?’

Dark snorted and felt his face reddening from the teasing as he tried to force his aura out, but Wilford was focused and determined. Said tormentor forced his hands under Dark’s arms and wiggled ruthlessly, and Dark’s laughter went to a higher pitch…he wasn’t in control now.

'FUHUHUHUHUHUHUCK YOHOHOHOHOU!!!’

'Wait till we’re alone! God…’

Wilford smirked at Bim who was observing and enjoying his tea, it was kind of like watching an actual show. His fingers alternated between gentleness and recklessness as he forced them under Dark’s shirt to get at the sensitive skin, Dark could only try and endure. He’d never been tortured like it, his lungs were burning and his body was alight with electricity.

'Ihihihi wihihihill ehehehehend yoho-AHAHA NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!’

'Oh my gohod!’

Bim exclaimed, face aghast at Dark’s reaction. Wilford smirked as his fingers found the back of Dark’s neck and his ears. Such vulnerable, and wonderfully sensitive areas.

'Tickle tickle Dark…’

Wilford teased as he flicked and fluttered with his very fingertips, grinning as Dark shook his head rapidly amidst new giggles. Yes you heard right, giggles.

'Wihihihihilfohohohohohord yohohohohohou mohohotheheher fuhuhuhuckeheheher!!!’

Wilford cackled as he kept this particular method up, he was rather enjoying the reactions of the man beneath him.

'Is someone a lil giggly? What does the audience think?’

Even Dark flicked his eyes to Bim, and his embarrassment peaked when he remembered the other person in the room. Bim bit his lip and grinned lightly.

'I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so giggly before…’

Dark stuttered at the light tease accomodating Bim’s voice, and blushed forcefully at Wilford’s loud cackle. Wilford was surprised at Bim’s tone, but it couldn’t have helped more. Wilford examined the red hues on the grey skin with rapt joy.

'Is Darky embarrassed about being so sensitive? Awwww what a cutie!’

'Shuhuhuhuhut uhuhuhuhuhuhup!!!’

Dark squirmed as his face continued to burn, residual giggles trickled from him as Wilford looked over Dark’s body. These reactions were certainly magnificent…but there had to be a spot that made Dark scream. Because that was what he really wanted, for Dark to scream and beg. Wilford cast his eyes to Bim, perhaps he’d have some insight?’

'Hmmm, I wonder if there’s a spot that’ll drive him crazy…any ideas Bimmy?’

Bim twisted his lips in thought as Wilford relished in Dark’s light shiver at the word 'crazy’, that gave him hope. Bim looked thoughtful for a moment before his eyes seemed to glint, and a small…mischievous smile grew on him. Wilford felt the hope within him growing.

'Ohhh I like that look, it seems our audience has an idea…’

Wilford turned Dark’s head carefully so he too could see Bim’s expression, and the pinned man felt a chill run through him. A chill that settled at the bottom of his stomach at the realisation that Wilford wouldn’t stop until he’d exploited his worst spot. Bim grinned wider and cast his eyes behind Wilford, Dark gulped.

'Why don’t you try his knees-’

'NO!!! WILFORD DON’T LISTEN TO HIM!!!’

Wilford grinned and raised a teasing eyebrow, he glanced behind him at Dark’s legs which had noticeably tensed. He reached behind him and lightly ran a single finger down the back of Dark’s left knee…and oh was he rewarded. A loud squeal ripped from Dark’s throat, bordering on a scream as his whole body jolted.

'Well well what do we have here? A hidden tickle spot…not so hidden anymore…’

Wilford spoke slow and tauntingly as he trailed two fingers down that same bundle of nerves, and Dark let his heart’s voice break forth.

'WIHIHIHILFOHOHOHORD NOHO PLEASE I’LL DO ANYTHING! ANYTHING, JUST DON’T DO THIS!!!’

Wilford chuckled as he withdrew his light touch, leaning down to whisper.

'Anything…?’

Dark nodded rapidly in response, and Wilford for a moment felt a spark of pity at the emotion in Dark’s eyes…but then he remembered. The smirk, and the relentlessness…and his euphoric reasoning returned. He tilted his head and smirked.

'Laugh for me Darkiplier.’

With that resolution, ten ruthless fingers went to work. Dark screamed and writhed and laughed, high-pitched and helpless he smiled like a madman.

'NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!!’

'Tickle tickle…can someone not handle all the tickly tickles? And here I thought you were tough…’

Wilford sneered, diverting from his primary focus to squeeze and pinch the backs of Dark’s thighs, making the owner snort and squeak rather adorably. Wilford didn’t make his touch too rough though, he used his fingertips to skitter and tweak to keep it torturously unbearable for Dark. Said man was kicking his legs and rocking his hips in the form of futile attempts to ease Wilford’s tickling, but as described…it was futile.

'I don’t think humping the ground is gonna help ya buddy…’

Wilford snickered which sent Bim into a light giggle fit, Dark let out a wail and his laughter sounded so desperate. The torment at his most sensitive spot, combined with the teasing and the embarrassment of being humiliated publicly. It was so much…too much. He felt tears prick as he screamed out.

'PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!!’

Wilford ignored him with a devious sneer, but Bim could see the true need for relief in Dark’s visage.

'IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!’

'Okay Wilford, I think he’s had enough. Look at him…’

Wilford flicked his eyes down to Dark and grimaced a little, it looked like he was actually being consumed by his own mirth. Wilford hummed and withdrew his fingers, he stood and plopped into the armchair.

'Ugh fine, the audience is always right as they say!’

Bim opened his mouth to correct him but decided against it, he only smiled lightly and looked at Dark who had managed to sit himself up. Dark caught his breath and set his sights on Wilford, the atmosphere tense and uncertain as Dark’s aura stretched and unfurled with it’s regained freedom. But Dark only grinned, eyebrows raised at Wilford as he offered one of his hands.

'Well played Wilford…well played.’

Wilford grinned and accepted the hand, they shook and chuckled lightly as Dark fixed his jacket, Bim shook his head at the pair. Dark glanced at Wilford, his voice regained and demeanour replenished.

'It goes without saying that what happened here does not leave this room.’

'Well duh, I’m not that cruel!’

Dark sniggered before turning to Bim, an expectant expression on his face which Bim caught on to.

'Oh yeah, obviously of course.’

Bim smiled nervously as Dark narrowed his eyes, a sudden animalistic grin developed as he got to his feet slowly. Bim gulped.

'Hmmm, you just saying so isn’t enough…I need…security.’

Wilford laughed loud and raucously as Bim bolted from the room, Dark hot on his heels and Wilford closed his eyes to the sounds of yelps and distinct laughter. The mixed sounds of joy and desperation, his favourite lullaby.

okay this is fucking lonnnnnnnng, I’m sorry but also i’m not cuz i really enjoyed writing this piece of stunning shit 😂 plz tell me if you liked it and if you have requests just send em my way cuz i have nothing better to do, luv yous xx

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

NSFW #20: Choices and Possibilities

This probably wasn’t safe to do. The shell of the building in a long condemned area of Cleveland’s industrial district was missing a good seventy-five percent of its ceiling, the rubble of the caved in roof scattered all over bits of rusting machinery. Plants and wildflowers, brown and frozen by the icy hand of winter, pushed their way through cracks in the concrete floor- Mother Nature’s defiance of the progress of mankind. The sky was blue with the occasional wispy cloud, but the wind still howled from time to time through the open roof and broken windows. In all of this, three folding chairs were situated on more stable slabs of fallen roof and in them sat three people bundled against the Northeast Ohio cold. A small, slightly-built woman with fiery hair under a Mets cap, swathed in a leather biker jacket and a sunset orange scarf. A blonde man with an imposing build but gentle eyes, tucked in a lambskin bomber jacket with a warm shearling collar and an emerald green scarf. These two are sat side by side, facing the third- a somewhat heavyset fellow in a black puff jacket, his own scarf black and white striped and complemented with black earmuffs. He had a microphone clipped to his coat collar, as did the other two. They also each held large championship belts of gold plate and black leather. The odd man out spoke first. “This is a strange place for an interview, isn’t it?” The redhead laughed. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But nah, it ain’t strange at all when you think about it. I mean, look at this old place. What was it? An industrial bakery? A freakin’ button factory? A post office distribution outfit? There’s so many possibilities, Spade.” Mike McGuire looked up through the open ceiling, tapping a finger against her chin. “Possibility’s a funny thing. You have endless doors open before you, with any number of paths you can take all depending on shit like your ability, potential, privilege, that sort of thing. But the further you go, the more choices you make, the more that path narrows until you’ve made your ultimate choice on how your life or career is gonna go. Sometimes you can go back, but sometimes you’re too far down the path to turn around. Like…” The Bronx Brawler sat back up, leaning forward. “...say you show up at a place of business and grab a tiger by the tail. You’re full of piss and vinegar and you got blood shooting out your eyes and you say you’re gonna destroy everyone. You take out the biggest obstacle in your way and everyone’s wondering what kind of havoc you’re gonna wreak. But what they don’t know is that you’ve already made choices. Choices dictating where you’re going, and it sure’s fuck ain’t where people thinkyou’re going- it’s somewhere a fuckton less.” Spade raised an eyebrow at Mike inquisitively. “You’re not one for waxing hypothetical, McGuire. What are you getting at here?” John had listened to his partner weave this tale. It was a familiar one. Maybe because they had lived it. Sensing Mike’s slight annoyance at the question, he cut in. “This isn’t hypothetical at all.” “Nope. See, in case people out there have lost count, this’ll be our fourth go-round with The Limit. So we should know these guys like the back of our hands, but see, something’s not the same here. The Limit’s changed, Spade, and not for the better.” “Can I be frank with you guys?” “But your name is Bryan.” Bryan looks at John - and then to Mike as if expecting an explanation of sorts. He didn’t get one. “Yeah yeah, what is it?” “These two guys? They’ve put a hurting on you. I’m not talking minor stuff. Injury reports’ clear as day. Mike, right off the bat, a concussion. John, a laceration on your abdomen that required dozens of stitches. Both of you, multiple hospital visits. Mike, your hand. They broke your hand on last year’s season finale of Monday Night Brawl.” “Yes. Yes they did, and that’s just fuckin’ it, Spade. These guys came in like a couple’a brazen bulls, and though we got the W every time, they still came out lookin’ like beasts. Sent us to the hospital twice. Nearly gutted my partner. Busted this hand right here. Like you said.” Mike wiggled her fingers for emphasis. “But remember what I said about choices. The choice the Limit made was to be Dominic Saunders’ hired stooges. Nobody knew that. We sure’s fuck didn’t. Saunders caughteverybody flat footed. And at first it didn’t matter. Sometimes the consequences of your choices ain’t so evident right away. But I tell ya, one moment you’re sending the future champs out in an ambulance, and the next?” She snapped her fingers. “You’re cleaning some Cope-spittin’ motherfucker’s pool.” “Let’s rewind, Bryan.” “Okay.” “Monday Night.” “Right.” “Another display of cruelty from our champion. Rob Garcia wound up in the right state this time. Draco Lazarus makes his glorious return.” Displaying his growing penchant towards sarcasm, John gave the shocking surprise a light golf clap. “Saying the same things he’s always said. Part of another group of like minded individuals making sweeping proclamations for world domination.” And he leveled his gaze at Bryan. “Who cares?” He paused. “Noticed something strange. Mike, how about you? Something out of place.” “Aside from a hideous fucking construct of hair bleach, pus, unidentified fungus, and mutant STD cultures gaining sentience as well as delusions of grandeur?” “There was no Limit.” Mike’s face lit up in realization. “Well what the fuck do ya know. There wasn’t, was there? Seems to be kind of a big omission. Seeing as they’re equal parts of the group and all.” “There is most likely a explanation for that.” “Oh, I agree, and I’m pretty sure what it was, too. They had to go start the car, pack up the gear. They’re relegated to porter and chauffeur duty. This is what’s become of two guys that the EWC Faithful nominated as our most worthy rivals of last year. The vicious pit bulls that bust in outta nowhere and tore us apart are nothin’ more than subservient fuckin’ lap dogs now. The bottom of the barrel in a group that in and of itself is the bottom of the barrel.” “Collateral Damage Part Deux.” “The sequel nobody asked for. And sequels usually fuckin’ suck. I mean, I guess they’re not a sequel to the sequel, that’d be gettin’ in goddamn Criterion territory.” John chuckled wrly. “Original wasn’t much better.” “It’s like when they made all those fuckin’ Sharknado movies one after another.” “What’s a sharknado?” “...when a waterspout sucks up a buncha sharks and then makes landfall so you get a shark tornado.” Church looked to Bryan to see what his reaction was. “Alright, we’re diverging from the point.” “No, we aren’t. Bryan, there is no point to this. Alexander? Frank? There isn’t a point to them. These two haven’t competed since December 1st of last year. A few days prior, Mike and I defeat them for a third time. Are we supposed to be impressed that they torched the Eternal Circle, The Clifton Sisters of yesteryear?” For a brief second, easily missable if one blinked, a look passed over Mike’s face that seemed nothing short of besotted. But it was gone as soon as it came, replaced with a more subdued expression of appreciation. “Well spoken, bud. We’re not impressed. Nobody should be impressed, unless they find their grandma’s Bischon Frise particularly impressive. Cuz like I said- that’s what we’re dealing with now. The bulls have their horns ground down and their brass balls neutered, the beasts have their teeth and claws ripped out. There’s nothin’ to fear, or even to really look forward to. This is rote. This is less than fuckin’ rote. And it’s really fuckin’ sad, because anyone who knows us knows we thrive off good quality competition. If we���re gonna face The Limit, we wanna face The Limit, not Diet Limit.” Bryan adjusted the microphone clip on the collar of his coat. He looked down at a notecard in the palm of his hand before continuing. “Mike, John, you two always have something interesting to say. But, come on, you two are really that indifferent about your opponents?” “You want us to be angry at them? Why would we be?” “Kind of going in a circle here, John. Look at your history with them. It bears repeating.” “No he isn’t. Haven’t you been paying attention? Shit, I never thought I’d miss Heart so much. Here, let me fuckin’ explain.” Mike leaned forward again, eyes hard green stones. “The Limit we fought wouldn’t step aside for anybody. Much’s they said they don’t care about titles, I never really believed that. But it don’t look like they have much of a choice now, do they? Not since their Fearless Leader called in the Gilded Shit. Nuh-uh. Seems like those two want these.” The redhead gave a pat to her belt’s front plate. “And if they want these, where does that leave The Limit? I’ll tell you where. Grunt work and hired help shit.” “Must pay well. After all, Dominic is a generous man.” He shrugged. “But think about it. This could have been the opportunity for The Limit that they would never received through achievement alone. Dominic could have bowed out. Could have said, ‘Rob’s out, The Limit’s in.’ But he didn’t. Instead, your kind and compassionate leader disparaged them as losers. Opting for the untested Maurice Yensman instead. In between their clerical duties for Dominic Sanders, they must have seen a lost opportunity as we systematically picked apart the greatest faction this company has ever known.” “See, and here’s where all that bullshit about blah blah blah, we don’t care about wins or titles we just wanna hurt people, really rings fuckin’ hollow. Cuz them stiffs ain’t even getting the opportunity to do that. Listen, as once-worthy opponents, they should take our advice and get themselves outta that shit show before it’s too late and their horns, balls, fangs, and claws won’t ever grow back. Unless they really want to be lackeys for the rest of their lives.” “Mike. John. I’ll be honest, kind of expected something else.” “What do you mean?” “Last week, you were kidnapped by the Collector.” John shook his head. “That was a rough day.” “Those poor, poor Cliftons.” “And the week before?” “I wonder if Duggan ever got home.” “I hope Candice had GPS for the middle of the goddamn desert.” “Look, no offense to the fine citizens of Cleveland but this place isn’t exactly kosher. I was expecting something more.” NSFW look at each other - and then back at Spade. “More? Like more left of a building?” “Or more left of people who’re supposed to be our equals, but aren’t anymore because of their own boneheaded fucking choices?” “Let’s not be facetious. Even before that, there was the viking funeral. And the grand Melon conspiracy. But here we are - inside some dilapidated ruins.” John looked around and he nodded as if to agree with the interviewer. “Sucks, doesn’t it?” “But you want something with a little more production, don’cha? Well, worry not, Spade. See, we did get a short bit of film in before we came up here. Not only that, it has the Limit themselves in it.” “Not to be confused with last time with The Collector.” John looked puzzled, but Bryan was right, they were both being facetious in this endeavor. “Wait, was that The Collector? Or not?” “The Japanese guy? … Whose house in Boca Raton were we even at?” Her partner shrugged in response as if to say, ‘beats me’. “But my partner is right. The Limit unequivocally agreed to appear, even with being our opponents, in a short film meant to make fun of them.” The viewer at home would catch a glimpse of something flashing in the corner of the screen, almost as if to act as a disclaimer. “Can’t say they ain’t at least good sports.” Mike raised a hand to her mouth, snickering behind it, and whipped out her cell phone, showing it to Spade.The picture faded out, and the viewer was treated to the same video that Spade saw.