#plus this is the first thing my country ass thought about when I read rain

[danganmaticx]

Day 4: Rain/Fireworks

Anyone ask for a northern Shuichi x southern Kaede comic? No? Neither did I but here it is

@saimatsu-week

[amphtaminedreams]

Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15

Hey to anyone reading!

And welcome to my fave lookbook I’ve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, that’s partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for “research purposes”, but I promise, that statement wasn’t made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. It’s been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because let’s be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.

The “what I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]” TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when you’re making a reel or a TikTok I thought it’d be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you aren’t familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand I’m attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we can’t ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesn’t makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought I’d take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didn’t cost a shit tonne of money :-)

-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I don’t think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-

1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)

-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-

I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesn’t really make much sense anymore given the brand’s name change in 2012, but I’ll always think of it as that in the same way I’ll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock n’ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasn’t done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, it’s rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldn’t wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge we’ve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart. 

2. Alexander McQueen

-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burton’s more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didn’t attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarah’s blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like it’s definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook it’s cute.

3. Brock Collection

-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-

Brock isn’t as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this woman’s work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.

4. Marc Jacobs

-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-

If there’s one thing Marc Jacobs always does, it’s COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out. 

5. Miu Miu

-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamanté belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-

We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway. 

6. Vera Wang

-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-

Vera Wang’s RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs she’s known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Vera’s collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.

7. Burberry

-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years I’ve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought it’d be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didn’t predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.

8. Etro

-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-

Like with Brock Collection, Etro isn’t a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etro’s designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brand’s winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.

9. Dolce & Gabbana

-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I don’t include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I don’t want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we haven’t seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given there’s a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if we’re honest, but I don’t think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we aren’t engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling that’s made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as they’ve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, let’s be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.

10. Gucci

-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-

Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldn’t read me either) you’ll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!

The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesn’t matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesn’t design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what they’re putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobody’s going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless they’re talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but I’m sure said brand will survive-to be fair, they’ve been included in every other What I’d Wear to Sit Front Row At video I’ve seen so although I’m always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think it’s totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Michele’s work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.

Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know I’m super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, I’m gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me I’ll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!

Lauren x

[ceo-of-daichi]

Characters - Sawamura Daichi x Fem!Reader

Summary - Lockdown had really affected your social life and daily routine, luckily a certain someone was willing to help you get your life back to somewhat normal. What will happen when you start catching feelings?

Genre - Fluff

Warnings - Slight mentions of anxiety 

Word Count - 2.3k

A/N - Back again with another Daichi fic! Are you surprised, probably not i got a one man mind lmao. This one isn’t as long as the last but still as fluffy, hopefully you enjoy reading it :) p.s. this was almost called Toothpaste I blame Jas👀

Covid-19 had really flipped your year in a completely different direction to what you were expecting. You started the year hoping to finish your last year of high-school on a high, helping the volleyball team get to nationals and getting into university. However, the world clearly had a different plan for you, when the virus first started you didn’t think much of it. Why would you? It was only when the announcement came that the country was going into lockdown that your brain finally registered what was actually happening. Being the slightly more extroverted individual you thrived off seeing your friends, plus both your parents worked as nurses. You were going to be alone.

The first few weeks went by pretty fast, managing to keep up a routine by going out for runs and making yourself eat at certain times. Even keeping in touch with your friends from the boys volleyball team as well as Kiyoko, one of your closest friends. However, after this fairly stable period you had a really bad day. Nothing went your way, blender… broken, guess you weren't having a smoothie this morning. After that frustrating incident Tanaka and Noya decided to start poking fun at you in the group chat, which you were NOT in the mood for. Group chat… Muted. It was also raining extremely heavy so you decided maybe a well deserved rest day was in order, throwing on the TV you flopped down on the couch to start your film marathon.

5am. That was the time it was when you finally passed out on the couch. How did you end up staying up that late, Harry Potter. Why you thought it was a good idea to start watching the films you don’t know, but you managed to watch them all, all 19 hours of them. That was all it took to mess your routine up for the next month, not waking up till 2-3pm everyday just to lounge around. Barely keeping in touch with anyone, you hadn’t talked in the groupchat for close to 3 weeks, hardly even thinking about eating anything but snacks. 

Luckily you had a saving grace, Daichi. After going MIA , the third year’s started to get worried about you, especially Kiyoko. She had dmed you multiple times and got nothing in return, mainly because you saw the messages but forgot to reply. You were a whole ass mess to put it plainly. 

~ 3rd Years Group Chat ~

Kiyoko - I’m worried about [y/n]...

Suga - Tell me about it, she hasn’t been in the chat for weeks

Daichi - Have you tried dming her?

Kiyoko - She is ignoring me, she hasn’t replied to one of my messages

Asahi - Maybe she’s just busy?

Daichi - In the middle of lockdown…

Suga - Yeah thats unlikely

Kiyoko - Can one of you dm her as well? I just want to make sure she’s ok?

Daichi - I can... i’ll let you know if she replies and if she doesn’t Asahi or Suga can try

Having received a concerned message from Daichi, you realised how much you had lost track of everything and anything. Replying to both him and Kiyoko apologising and explaining you had just forgotten to press send. Although Daichi wanted to believe that was the case he couldn’t, instead of being upfront about it though he started messaging you throughout the day. Just small things asking if you had eaten and if you were staying hydrated, little did he know that this helped you get back into a better rhythm of lockdown life.

You slowly fixed your sleep schedule and got back to eating 3 meals a day. Although you hadn’t managed to get back into running, your talks with Daichi slowly got more frequent and for longer periods of time. The more you talked to him the more motivated you started to feel, eventually you got back into your running routine. It no longer became the odd message to make sure you were eating, but full day conversations about anything you could think of. Eventually you started relying on talking to him to cure your lockdown loneliness, a day without talking to him was not a good day for you. Daichi being the fairly observant person that he is, started to realise and eventually bought it up.

Daichi :) - Hey [y/n], I've been meaning to bring something up with you, you mind if we call?

[y/n] - Yeah sure Dai, just call me whenever i don’t exactly have anything going on

Receiving this was like a bullet to the chest, worrying what it could be about you pulled your knees up to your chest steadying your breathing. As you were lost in your head, your phone started ringing. Answering it you heard his voice for the first time in close to 3 months, it was music to your ears. Slowly over these 2 months you had grown fond of the boy, but you had quickly dismissed the idea of anything forming between each other. Both having different priorities in life, being scared of rejection also didn’t help.

After an hour and a half of deep conversation, a couple tears shed but more laughter at the end. You collapsed backwards onto your bed, he had found out everything. How your parents were barely home, always doing long shifts at the hospital, how you felt like you had no one during those 3 weeks you were MIA. Most importantly though you had confessed that talking to him was like receiving a warm hug. It's exactly what you needed at this time, obviously you would love an actual hug as well but that's pretty hard from a 2m distance.

~ 1 week later ~

Your eyes went wide as they announced on the news that lockdown was starting to be lifted, you were now allowed to meet up with people outside at a safe distance. Smiling you quickly messaged Daichi telling him how excited you were that restrictions were finally being lifted.  

Daichi :) - That's Great [y/n]!! So.. you fancy going on a socially distanced pic-nic tomorrow? Don’t worry about bringing anything but yourself. I got the rest covered, obviously if you're ok with that?😃

Reading the text over multiple times, pinching yourself to make sure it was real. You hadn’t seen Daichi in close to 3 months, and within that time you had developed feelings. What would it be like seeing him in person now, generally being awkward with past crushes, you started to worry about scaring him away. You couldn’t do that, you needed him. Taking a couple paces around the room thinking about what to reply, before realising you were most definitely overthinking it. He didn’t see you that way…

[y/n] - Yeah sure! Just let me know a time and place, i will be there

Daichi - 1pm at the park round the corner from your house?

[y/n] - See you there!! 

The next morning you woke up with a huge smile plastered on your face, excited for the day ahead. Jumping out of bed and rummaging through your wardrobe you pulled out a cute summer dress, not too dressy but showed you put effort in none the less. The summer dress was red and was covered in little white flowers, you had only worn it a couple times and decided it needed another outing.

Walking down your road and around the corner to the park, the wind hitting your face made you feel like maybe the world was getting back to normal. As you walked through the gates, you noticed Daichi stood over by a slightly more wooded area, smiling as you made your way over to him. Greeting each other you forgot how much his laugh and smile made it seem like nothing else mattered, making your heart beat faster in your chest. He ended up leading you through the woods and into a small opening which had 2 picnic blankets laid down at the appropriate distance. As you got closer you noticed that there were sandwiches, fruit and small cakes on both.

‘You didn’t have to do this Daichi you know? A simple sandwich would have been fine?’ You started smiling at him, no one had ever gone to this much effort for you and honestly you felt bad. ‘It must have taken you a bit to set this up…’

‘Oh no, honestly don’t worry about it… i wanted to, neither have been out in a while so i figured why not?’ The laugh that came out sounded almost nervous, which confused you slightly… Was he really as nervous as you?

The afternoon went by quicker than both of you wanted. Chatting, cracking jokes and eating, which the food Daichi had made was really good. You had asked why he had never told you about his clear culinary skills, apparently this was the first time he had attempted something like this. Trying not to get too far ahead of yourself when he had mentioned this, even though you were freaking out. Mainly chatting about quarantine life and how you missed being out of lockdown, being able to socialise freely and do whatever you wanted. 

You only realised how long you had been with Daichi when it started to get dark, letting him know you should probably be getting back. Even though in reality you could have stayed there for the rest of the night and into the early morning. Helping him pack everything up  occasionally sneaking glances at him, wishing you could pull him into a hug or give him a peck on the cheek. Just to let him know how much he had helped you over the past month. Sadly you couldn’t, once everything had been packed away Daichi (being the gentleman that he is) offered to walk you back.

‘I had a really good afternoon, thank you for this Daichi…’ Smiling at him as you walk up to your front door.

‘Would you want to do something like this again maybe?’ The way he looked at you, his eyes almost pleading, with a slight smile gracing his lips. This made your heart instantly melt.

‘If you want to? I would love that!’

‘[y/n]... why would i ask if i didn’t want to?’ Raising a brow at you playfully.

‘Shut up you dork, i’ll see you soon then!’ Laughing as you walk through your door giving him a wave before closing it and sliding down it on the other side, trying to calm your heart that was about to burst through your chest.

Another couple weeks past, you had only met up with Daichi once more, but both were still texting all day with the occasional call. You also had met up with Kiyoko within these weeks, explaining your situation. She thought it was really funny how much you were worrying about it because to her it seemed obvious that he returned your feelings. You were still completely denying this fact though, it was something your brain really couldn’t fathom. However, the next day lockdown was reduced once again, you were now allowed to have people in your house from other families. 

Being as excitable as you were and the fact your parents were out almost all of the time, you rattled off a text to Daichi asking him if he fancied a chill movie marathon night? Both of you deciding to watch The Hobbit trilogy later on in the evening. Hopping up from the couch you started cleaning the house, preparing snacks and setting up pillows as well as blankets on the couch. Seen as though it was a chill night you had decided on a pair of grey sweats and a plain v-neck t-shirt, that was tied so it wasn’t too long.

You had just finished setting everything up when there was a knock at the door, practically running to get it. Opening the door to his smiling face made something snap and you don’t know what came over yourself as you jumped into his arms, wrapping your own around him. Luckily he was quick to catch you. 

‘What did i do to deserve this hug?’ He chuckles to himself as you nuzzle into his neck.

‘Everything. Daichi I owe you so much, you don’t even understand’ Letting out a sigh, he closes the door and carries you over to the couch. Placing you down next to him as you pout at him, sad that the hug was over so soon. You had waited for so long to be wrapped up in his arms and when you finally get the chance it barely lasts 2 minutes. 

‘Listen Daichi… you have helped me so much over the past few months, and honestly…’ Taking a breath to figure out how to phrase your next words, however before you could say anything else he had pulled you back into his chest.

‘I like you too dork…’ Frozen in his arms, how long had he known… How long had he liked you back? All you could do in that moment was snake your arms round him and enjoy each other's company as he started the first film.

~ BONUS ~

‘How long have you liked me Daichi?’ You question him half way through the first film.

‘About 6 months give or take why?’ He turns his attention towards you and gives you a quick head kiss, before looking back to the film.

‘6 months… that's before we went into lockdown..?’

He hums, smirking at your clearly oblivious nature, as your brain was spiralling thinking about how many signals you missed.

Tags: @super-noya @stcrryskies @iwaxme @bb-noya @vventure @ardorwrites-hq-mha @scorpiosanssexy

[shadyb00ts]

How 2020 Turned Me Into A Swiftie Again

If you’d told me a few years ago that I’d have not one but two Taylor Swift albums in my year-end favorites list, I would’ve thought you were out of your mind. Then again, stranger things have happened in this hellscape of a year.

I’m really not sure where the first time I heard the phrase “Life is too short to pretend to hate Taylor Swift” was. I have no idea who originated it, but it stuck with me when I started to unpack that about a year ago, during her Lover era. By then, my perception and feelings about Taylor had been very... inconsistent, to say the least. I started out as a full-on stan, then it dwindled from there overtime until I basically became a hater, which then turned into indifference but silent respect. Now, I’m pretty much on the road to becoming a stan again. Revisiting her catalog, analyzing her lyrics, watching interviews, the works. 

I wanted to examine what it was that made my opinions about her go through so many steep rises and falls within this entire decade. Part of it was her shift in musical style that I didn’t quite mesh with, but another part was owning up to the internal biases I had when I was younger and how gullible I was in going along with whatever the media or the popular conscious was saying about her and the kind of person she is. 

I’m somebody who’s incapable of separating art from the artist. I simply don’t listen to artists when I don’t like them as people or don’t agree with their actions. Examples include but are not limited to Kim Petras, Melanie Martinez, Azealia Banks, Grimes, just to name a few. I have my own personal reasons for just not wanting to engage with any of their music, and if you still want to, that’s none of my business.

At some point in my life, I think Taylor got on that list. Looking back on it now, I find that completely ridiculous, because she never really did anything or acted in a way that warranted that reaction out of me. So I wanted to delve into how that even came about in the first place.

With that said, I want to take a trip down memory lane and go back through her eras, and go through the timeline of my strange relationship with Taylor Swift’s body of work as well as her public persona. Fair warning, it’s gonna be really cheesy and emotional at parts, but it is fully my truth. Thank you in advance if you manage to read the whole thing.

Part 1: The Country Era

It’s 2010 and I’m in eighth grade. I’m in an extremely Muslim country, the only son of an extremely Muslim family that enrolled me in an extremely Muslim school. I’m getting bullied by the boys in my class for being too feminine and being ignored by the girls for being a boy. The last close friend I had from elementary school had just moved away the year prior, and I’d never felt more alone in my life.

I was a closeted gay kid still trying to figure himself out and hating who he was. I escaped to cringey online chat sites like IMVU and catfished as a girl, because at the time I thought the only way to get boys to like me and want to be with me was to pretend to be someone else, someone I actually liked.

When I think back on this era, I mostly remember the girls in my class obsessing over these three albums and singing her songs with each other all the time. I desperately wanted to join them and fangirl with them over her music, though of course they never gave me the time of day. I remember I would memorize so many of her songs and write them all down on a special notebook I kept. When I wasn’t paying attention in classes, that’s what I would do; scribble out a collection of all the songs of hers that I knew by heart.

To me, these three albums represented a certain kind of vivid fantasy. Taylor’s songwriting has obviously grown exponentially over the past decade, but even back then she was always so damn good at storytelling and detail, painting you a very clear picture of a scene and placing you right there. For a miserable, self-hating fourteen-year-old gay boy that was always seeking escapism from a homophobic environment, this was the perfect outlet for me to live out a different kind of life, to play pretend.

I honestly can’t explain what it is about her style of songwriting but she always made me feel like I was genuinely experiencing everything she was talking about. Things like kissing in the rain, riding around in the truck of the boy of my dreams in a tiny one horse town, shedding teardrops on a guitar that I definitely didn’t own, experiencing crushing heartbreak. This was stuff that my sheltered ass couldn’t comprehend.

Taylor perfectly captured that ideal, that small town girl with big dreams and storybook romances. I was in love with her discography at the time, having memorized pretty much the entirety of Fearless because that was my favorite of three. Middle school was hell for me, but her music was definitely something that helped me pull through, because she sent my imagination into overdrive.

This was a time in my life where I didn’t really care yet about an artist’s public image or the media’s portrayal of them, It was purely about the music for me. Of course, when looking at these albums now, there were a few questionable choices she made lyrically, I have to admit. Particularly with songs like “Better Than Revenge” and “Innocent”, both having aged terribly with the former being bafflingly misogynistic and the latter being about Kanye. As of my writing this, Taylor is currently in the process of re-recording her old catalog, and I assume that she would skip these two songs in particular, as well as several others that haven’t exactly aged well.

This era really got me through some tough times and she provided much-needed relief for me within each of these three albums. I’ll always have an attachment to them because of the bittersweet memories they represent.

Part 2: Red

Red I decided to put in its own category, because this was kind of a weird era for Taylor. Even back when I was an ignorant teenager that barely had any critical thinking skills, I felt the dissonance of this album and its Max Martin produced singles. This album represented Taylor dipping her toe into pop music, which she made abundantly clear when she decided to release We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together as the lead single.

I actually remember this moment quite clearly. She premiered the single at some kind of fan event that I believe was streamed live on YouTube, and either I watched it live or I watched the full recording of it later on. At the time I remember feeling it was kind of bizarre to hear Taylor adopt this style of music, because it was so drastically different from her previous work and it took me a while to adjust. Obviously I enjoyed pop music at the time as much as I do now, but I just hadn’t been expecting it to come from Taylor. 

Fortunately it was just the three singles that were full pop, and the rest of the album still had her signature DNA and also includes some of her best work. All Too Well, for example, is I think one of the best songs she’s ever made, if not the best. I think if I were introducing Taylor to someone that’s totally unfamiliar with her, that would be my first choice, because it’s a masterwork in songwriting and emotionality.

I do think the thing that irked me the most about this album and era, even to this day, was the lack of cohesion. Of course I figured that she would eventually venture into pop music, but the way in which she did it just felt a bit too jarring to me. Perhaps if the album had a more even distribution of pop songs and country songs, it would’ve been slightly more palatable for me. It’s not even that the three pop songs were bad; they were quite good for their time. Though to be completely honest they’re the songs I barely ever return to any time I listen to Red now. They’re the kind of catchy pop songs where it’s difficult not to get sick of them at a certain point in your life. I’ve grown to really dislike the lead single, and even 22.

Her image was also starting to get much more scrutinized by the media around this time. I think this era probably marked the sharp rise of the “Taylor Swift has too many boyfriends!” argument people loved to throw around. I wish I could say I was smart enough to not buy into that shit at the time, but I wasn’t. While it didn’t bother me, it was something that I wondered about, why she dated and broke up with so many guys at such a young age. It was something that I judged her for. Obviously I didn’t yet understand that it was normal for people her age to date around. Plus it gave her some great material.

By this time, Taylor was making the gradual transition of country sweetheart to pop star, and while Red was kind of a rocky start to that, naturally she managed to pull it off. But not quite flawlessly.

Part 3: The Pop Era

Okay, I have a lot to say about these girls.

I think this era started off strong with 1989. It was a more fully realized version of Taylor’s little pop experiment, and it actually had the cohesion that I needed to be able to fully adapt to this new style she’d cultivated. She wrote yet another one of her best songs with Blank Space, which I like to think was a precursor to Reputation (and dare I say that one song did Reputation’s concept better than that album as a whole?).

However... Shake It Off. I’m sorry, I just hate that song.

WANEGBT, the first single off of Red, isn’t exactly the best song either but it made sense as to why she chose that as the first single. It was to signify her dabbling into pop. Reputation’s first single I also am not the biggest fan of, but again, made perfect sense as an introduction, but I’ll get to that later. Shake It Off, though? For the life of me, I have no idea why this song was the first single. Or to be frank, why it was even on the album at all. 

I’m sorry y’all, I just hate it. Everything about it. The verses, the chorus, the appalling rap bridge. She should’ve kept that song in the drafts and released Blank Space as a first single, and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on. Sorry Shake It Off stans, but I’m sure all three of you will get over it. ❤

That said, 1989 had some excellent songs, and I was finally starting to get used to Taylor doing pop. However, my excitement and enthusiasm for her music started to falter due to my weak mind at the time once again getting swayed by the media. 

This time, I began to see Taylor as someone that seemed to be very calculated and conniving in the way she curated her image. Something that didn’t sit well with me was the “girl squad” stuff, and how all of the women she surrounded herself with were essentially these supermodels with unattainable beauty standards, and also believing the rumors about how certain famous women were given private requests to join Taylor’s “squad”. And then of course, the Kim and Kanye thing happened. #TaylorSwiftIsOverParty trended worldwide, and that was probably my earliest exposure to an instance of a celebrity getting canceled, so I was just happy to join the bandwagon. My opinion of her shifted like that, and it’s crazy to think about it now, how I barely had the capacity to form my own opinions and was easily influenced by everything I heard.

Despite me kind of joining the Taylor hate train, I did like Reputation as a concept. I liked how she disappeared from the public eye and came back being like, “You want me to be the villain? The snake? Fine.” Look What You Made Me Do, as I mentioned before, was the perfect choice for the first single despite the song itself being sonically....not the best. The music video and the line about how the old Taylor couldn’t come to the phone was an iconic moment in pop culture, I have to admit that.

I didn’t listen to the album as a whole until later, though. I was having my own hang-ups about Taylor that I think are silly now, but at the time when I didn’t like an artist I would mostly avoid their work. When I did listen to the album, though, I thought it was... okay. There’s one standout track to me and that is Getaway Car, and it’s the only song from Reputation I can say I fully adore to pieces. The other songs on there I either just like, or I find to be meh at best. (Also I know Ready For It is objectively a bad song but I really enjoy the chorus, don’t @ me, @ god)

A few years later, Lover happened and.... Once again, horrible first single. ME! is a genuinely atrocious song, and I have no idea how esteemed, prolific songwriter Taylor Swift managed to reach a point where she had a song with the phrase “spelling is fun!” in it. I feel the exact same way about this song as I do about Shake It Off. It had no business being in the album whatsoever.

As far as Lover the album goes, this came out around the time where I was kind of feeling indifferent toward Taylor (which is hilarious if you know what the first track on it is). I was much more politically aware and had learned not to put too much faith in white women, and I was focusing on other artists so much that Lover barely even came onto my radar. I listened to it once, thought it was meh, and moved on. I revisited it earlier this year and realized I was a bit too harsh on it the first time around. Sure it was her weakest album overall, but it wasn’t bad by any means. It was perfectly alright, and there were songwriting moments within it that were still quite strong. The title track and also Miss Americana comes to mind as standouts.

She started to become more vocal politically around this time. A lot of people thought it was too little too late, which was a fair point. However to me it made sense that she stayed tight-lipped about politics when she was younger, considering she was operating within the realm of country music. Plus, upon watching her documentary, it was pretty clear she had old white men behind the scenes telling her what she should or shouldn’t say, to make sure she maintained that all-American country girl sweetheart image. Still, I do agree with the people who thought that she should’ve used her platform sooner.

Oh and for the record, I think You Need to Calm Down is a terrible song. The video was cute, and the message behind it is fine, but I just hate it sonically.

At this point my interest in Taylor was probably at an all time low. The era started off strong with 1989, but it progressively got weaker. She just wasn’t really giving me much in terms of lyricism, and her pop productions were starting to blend together to the point where a lot of them were sounding very same-y. Lover to me marked the point of stagnation in her music; it was solid enough, but it just wasn’t going anywhere. We’ve seen Pop Taylor, she was cute for a while, but what else? Where does she go from here?

Well... She went into the woods.

Part 4: The Cottagecore Sisters

When I heard about Taylor dropping a surprise album, I suppose I was intrigued. She is one of the few artists that are successful enough to be able to make a move like that and cause a lot of buzz and excitement. I didn’t think much about it though, because my 2020 at that time was still inundated with SAWAYAMA and Ungodly Hour on repeat. On a whim, though, I decided to listen to it one day, not expecting much out of it.

Earlier when I was talking about her country era, I mentioned that Taylor’s storytelling and her penchant for detailed descriptions were my favorite parts of her writing. Her innate ability to transport me into other worlds, to provide escapism when my life became too much to deal with. I feel like these aspects were missing in the several years that Taylor focused on pop music. There were flashes of it in some of her later work, sure, but very few. She was becoming a huge mega superstar and her songs started to lose that sense of relatability that had been easy for me to latch on too. These things definitely contributed to my loss of interest for her work in general.

And then Folklore managed to bring me back to that place of fantasy I described before, but heightened. Elevated. Evolved. This is why I think that Folklore is Taylor Swift’s magnum opus.

Storytelling is without a doubt her strongest skill as an artist. To be able to construct not just a narrative but an entire world through songs is not something anyone can pull off. Throughout her pop era, there was always that something missing because I knew that she was capable of more. I couldn’t explain it well back then, but despite her penmanship still being commendable during those years, it still felt oddly lackluster. I knew she could do better, but I didn’t have the proof yet.

This is it. Both Folklore and Evermore showcase exactly what I knew she was capable of. This is Taylor Swift at her most creative, at her full power.

I think in a recent interview I watched (though I can’t remember which one), even she herself acknowledged how it would’ve been a disservice to continue strictly writing autobiographical songs, and so she decided to write from the perspectives of multiple different characters while also occasionally inserting herself and her life experiences into these narratives. She essentially created her own folklore and managed to make me invested in characters that don’t even exist.

I have to talk about the love triangle trilogy: cardigan, august and betty. It’s a testament to her songwriting ability that these fictional characters feel like real people. The story of Betty, James and Augusta/Augustine is just so well done to the point where I forget that it’s Taylor Swift singing. When I listen to these songs, I am fully imagining the characters she conjured up. 

The song that I find the most profound out of the three, and also happens to be my favorite song on the album, is august. To me, it is the most heartbreaking song out of all of them. I relate so much to that girl who’s hopelessly in love with someone that just doesn’t give a shit about them and is merely using her for a summer fling. And it’s not even like I’ve experienced something similar to this in real life, Taylor just somehow made it relatable with the sheer power of her pen game. It’s even more heartbreaking considering we don’t know what happened to this girl, if she ever managed to find happiness, because in the Long Pond Sessions Taylor mentioned that Betty and James eventually got back together. They got their happy ending, but what happened to Augustine?

I can’t believe she’s got me this deep in my feelings over non-existent teenagers, I swear to god.

Just when I thought Folklore was going to be the end of this new side of her for a while, she releases Evermore in December, its sister album. While I don’t think it’s quite as strong as Folklore, it still delivered immensely in terms of lyricism, productions and vocals. Evermore’s release pretty much solidified the realization that I was basically becoming a Swiftie again, a whole decade later.

I was embarrassed by that thought at first, but honestly now I’m at a point where I don’t think there’s anything to be embarrassed about. Taylor is too skilled of a songwriter for me to consider her a guilty pleasure. I just needed something to help me come to that conclusion, and these two albums did just that. She finally gave to me what I was waiting for.

Final Thoughts

I don’t really stan artists the same way I used to now, which I mentioned previously in my review of Chromatica. I don’t deify them or hold them to an impossible moral standard they could never live up to anymore. I see them as flawed human beings that have the capacity to make great art. So when I say I’m becoming a Swiftie, I’m still fully aware that Taylor Swift is a thirty-one year old rich white woman who is bound to have shortcomings and missteps as a person. In my mind, she hasn’t done anything drastic enough or stupid enough for me to become uncomfortable in listening to her work. I had my own ideas about how she could’ve been fake, conniving, manipulative or whatever else the media was trying to convey about her, but there really is no way of knowing who she truly is as a person.

Celebrities and influencers have the power to curate their image however they want. The relationships they have with us, the audience, are entirely parasocial, so of course we base our judgments of them based on very limited knowledge, or just the surface-level view of what they’re like. I don’t know if Taylor is as down to earth and genuine as she appears to be now, and I honestly don’t need to know. If she does things I disagree with or acts a certain way that deserves criticism, of course I’d still call her out, and depending on the severity of what it was she said or did, it might end up with me not wanting to engage with her work anymore.

But the reality is, as a person, I’ve realized that she is just fine. I was holding on to a certain idea of her in my head where I think at one point I dubbed her “the Anne Hathaway of music”, meaning someone that comes across too perfect to the point where it seems calculated and disingenuous. But honestly, I just don’t feel that way about her anymore. I don’t feel particularly attached to her as a person, either. 

But I do feel an attachment to her music. At the end of the day, that’s where I’m standing now when it comes to her. I don’t have any expectations or delusions about her as a human being, and I’m not going to remain devoted to her if she does something dumb, but I believe that she is an insanely gifted artist who has written so many songs that genuinely speak to me and make me feel intensely. She lost me for a while, but now I’m right back in it.

So yeah, like I said in the beginning of the post, life’s too short to pretend to hate Taylor Swift. I’d rather just pretend to live in a mystical small town as a sad gay witch. And I’m at peace with that.

[fullmetalscullyy]

the way it was - chapter 14

summary:  what if riza never went to war?  riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

chapter 13 | read on ao3

1914 

anywhere the sun shines

anywhere your love goes

you will find me

“Moving to Central?” Riza asked in surprise. Roy had mentioned the move before but that seemed like a far-off thing – something not happening until the end of the year, or in the new one.

“They liked how I handled the Scar situation so much that they promoted me.”

“A promotion too?”

“Don’t act like it was so unlikely,” he grinned cheekily.

“No, I’m just… This is great for you.” Her expression softened, her lips curving upwards as he grinned at her. “Well done. I’m proud of you, and this is a step in the right direction.”

Roy’s arms looped around her body, locking together on the small of her back. “It’s all thanks to you.”

Riza snorted lightly in disbelief. “I doubt that.”

“No, it is,” Roy urged as she tried to pull away. His grip tightened and Roy held her in place. “You’ve pushed me to keep going. Plus, now we have baby number two on the way, we have to get a bigger place, so this is the perfect excuse,” he winked. Roy chuckled as Riza swatted his arm, making him loosen his hold on her waist.

“What happened with Scar, by the way?” she enquired.

“He’s still on the loose. He’s far too fast for us to catch but at the moment, the threat has passed.”

“Just be careful, okay?”

“Always am,” he reassured her with a grin. Riza promptly rolled her eyes at him. Says the man that fell off her roof while trying to impress her.

But still… Riza bit her lip. She knew Scar was an Ishvalan man. Roy had expressed his strong desire not to use alchemy against him, not after what he did. Riza reasoned that he had to protect himself. He had a whole country depending on him. Once Roy started making moves with the changes he wanted to see in the world, the Amestrian people would need him. He couldn’t get himself killed with the first step he took.

“Did you use your alchemy against him?”

There was a pause which caused Riza to glance at him. Roy’s gaze was off to the side as he answered.

“No.”

Riza felt relief wash over her. “How come?”

“It was raining all day.”

Riza blinked at him, then burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it. A memory from their past came to her mind unbidden, and it always amused her thoroughly. It involved smug Roy trying to show off and some petrol. He’d been trying to get the old barbeque they had going in the damp, wet air. It wasn’t working, so Genius Roy, with all of his fifteen years of wisdom, thought that pouring a few drops of petrol on the barbeque would get it going. It did. The inferno claimed his eyebrows. Riza had to draw them on for days after so her father wouldn’t find out.

She’d never laughed so much in her childhood before.

“It’s not funny,” he glared.

“I’m sorry, dear. I wasn’t laughing at that,” she giggled, trying to calm herself down. 

Roy moved to sulk on the couch instead. He placed his face on two closed fists, his elbows resting on his knees. Mia was lost in her own world as she played with her toys on the rug in front of them.

“Okay,” she admitted. “I was.”

“Before you say it,” Roy interrupted her. “I’m not useless,” he spat out, the word obviously leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

“I bet you didn’t even realise it was raining that day, did you?” Riza grinned from behind the couch. She perched on the back of it, running her hand through his hair. There was a soft sigh from Roy, and it made Riza’s smile grow.

“No,” he muttered sullenly. “Listen,” he jumped in, his spine straightening. “When you’re faced with a serial killer, you’d have bigger things to worry about than the weather, all right?”

“Not when it affects my ability to use alchemy, the only way to defend myself,” Riza retorted. His defensive argument was a strong one, however he could have been killed when fighting Scar that day. That was the reality of it. Riza tried to let it go. She exhaled slowly and quietly, letting that anxious energy drain out of her. He was fine. He was alive. He was still breathing, and his heart was still beating.

He was okay.

Roy huffed, returning to his sulk. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered.

“Daddy?” Mia asked, not looking up from playing with her toys. Her brow was furrowed as she still played, confused about something.

“Yes, Mia?” he asked. His mood perked up as soon as their daughter called him. It made the smile return to Riza’s face.

“What’s a serial killer?”

Riza snickered as Roy stiffened underneath her hand. She patted his head twice then bent at the waist to whisper in his ear. “I’ll let you deal with this one,” she stated, oh so kindly. Their daughter had quite the inquisitive streak and was a sponge – she picked up everything.

“Gee, thanks,” he deadpanned.

“Dinner will be ready shortly Mia, okay?” Riza called during her retreat to their kitchen.

“Okay Mummy,” she called as she clambered up onto her father’s lap.

“Make sure all your toys are tidied up, okay?”

“Yes Mummy,” she replied dutifully.

“Thank you, Mia.”

Riza smiled and left the two of them to their lesson, snickering at the thought of Roy explaining to their five-year-old what a serial killer was. In all honesty, she shouldn’t know, but Mia would never let things go. If they put it off, she’d just ask again and again until she got her answer. Or worse, she’d ask someone else, stating she heard her parents talking about it. That had happened before, and it was an awkward conversation with the adult afterwards.

Ten minutes after their impromptu lesson began, Roy entered the kitchen alone and kissed her cheek in greeting.

“As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted.”

“Are you talking about me, or our child?” Riza asked dryly. “Choose wisely.”

“Um… None?” he squeaked with a forced grin. Riza rolled her eyes, and the forced smile on Roy’s face fell, leaving a real one in its place. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that it was you who saved me with Scar.”

Riza scoffed. “Hardly.”

“No, you did. Honestly. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.” He stopped for a moment, tilted his head then smiled softly. “Watching out for me even when you’re not by my side,” Roy grinned. “I knew I married you for a reason.”

“To stop you from inadvertently getting yourself killed?” Riza asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Something like that,” Roy smiled, angling his head to kiss her temple.

“I believe Maes calls your ability to still find yourself alive “sheer dumb luck”. Emphasis on the dumb.”

“Well, Maes is always talking out of his ass.”

“Daddy?” Mia piped up suddenly, appearing in the doorway. “What’s an ass –”

“Oh! Mia!” Riza announced quickly and loudly, distracting their daughter with her food. “Dinner is ready! Daddy will help you into your chair.”

Mia grinned and ran over to him, holding her arms up in the air, signalling she wanted up. It was like she was two years old again.

Riza shot him a pointed look that said, “no more swearing in front of the kid.” The last thing Riza needed was for her to repeat that. Hopefully, she’d caught it early enough that Mia had already forgotten all about it.

“So… Central?” Riza stated as they retired to the living room for the night.

“Are you all right with that?” he asked, an undercurrent of uncertainty in her tone.

Riza nodded. “Of course.”

“I just knew it meant you’d be able to pursue your career and Central would give you so many more opportunities to do that than being here does.” From his tone it was clear he’d already built up a case to try and persuade her, but there was no need. She was already ready to go. It was the packing up of all Mia’s toys that would be the nightmare part of it.

“Roy, I’m ready. This is a step in the right direction for you.”

“But it’s your life too,” he stressed, turning to face her. “I can’t just assume you’ll uproot your life just for me.”

Riza smiled and cupped his cheek. “You’re sweet. But don’t worry. I already told you I had something lined up in Central for this year and you’re also my husband,” she stated, as if it were obvious. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

That seemed to settle some of his fears and his nervousness. His shoulders sagged in relief.

Riza wondered if he was like this every day at work. He seemed to be calm, cool, and collected in front of his colleagues at the ball, but when it came to her he was always uncertain and sure she was going to turn and run away from him at a moment’s notice. It may not be intentional, but that was the vibe he gave off to her. Riza wasn’t worried about it, per se, but she’d married him, and loved him with all her heart. He owned it completely. What else could she do to prove that she wasn’t going anywhere?

“There’s nothing to worry about on my part. And Central will be good for us. Plus, Maes and Gracia are there too, so we’ll be able to see them more often.”

“Oh no.”

“What?” His tone was filled with dread, and worry began to pool in Riza’s chest.

“I won’t just get phone calls about his kid and Gracia, I’ll have to deal with it in person.”

Riza rolled her eyes. “Drama queen.”

“It’s a real problem I suffer with here. I would think as my wife you’d be supportive,” he frowned.

“You’re on your own there, dear,” she smiled sweetly, patting his knee. Before she could remove it, Roy snagged it in his hand. “Okay, so now we need to think about moving,” Riza stated, already planning and making a list of things to do in her head. “We’ll need boxes. I threw out all the ones we brought here with us. I’ve no schoolwork tomorrow and was planning on going to the market with Mia anyway, so I’ll pick something up then.”

“Tell me about it,” Roy requested, immediately after she’d finished her train of thought.

“Excuse me?” she asked, confused by his request. “Tell you about cardboard boxes?”

“Tell me about your typical day. About what you have planned for tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Riza stated after a pause, wracking her brain for what she’d decided to do tomorrow. “Tomorrow the market is on in the square from nine o’clock until noon, so I’ll go there with Mia to collect some fresh vegetables for dinner. Then, we’ll probably go to the park and she’ll play on the swings.” Roy grinned. They made that trip a few times a month on the weekends and Mia would be on those swings for hours if they let her. “Then, I’ll nip into town and get a cup of coffee –”

“Where about?” he inquired.

“Robertson’s.”

“The old haunt.” Roy quipped.

“They do a soup that Mia really likes so we’ll have some of that for lunch then head back. At home she’ll play while I look over my schoolwork, then we play until you come home. Except…” She cocked her head in thought. “We’ll nip back to the market as it closes to see if we can get some cardboard boxes from some of the stalls.”

“That sounds genuinely wonderful. I wish I could join you,” he murmured.

“One day,” she smiled. “Or we’ll do it more often when you’ve got the day off.”

“In a perfect world I like to think we’d do that every day.”

“Oh yeah? What do you imagine our lives being like?”

Roy took a deep breath then let it out in a rush, tilting his head to look up at the ceiling. “If I never joined the military… I picture us in a house out in the country. Not your father’s one, but something new that we bought ourselves with our own money. We’d have chickens, we’d have a cow and a goat.”

“Just one of each?”

Roy nodded. “Yep. Just one is all we need. There would be a little vegetable plot in the back garden where we’d grow our own… It would be perfect.”

Riza hummed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “That does sound wonderful.”

“However.” He heaved a sigh. “This was the path I chose, so I must follow through with it.”

Riza patted the hand on his thigh. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“How about beside me?” he asked, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “I don’t like the idea of you being behind me.”

“I’m supposed to watch your back, Roy,” she smiled dryly. “I can’t do that from beside you.”

“Then how am I supposed to watch yours, with you behind me?” he queried. “No, beside sounds a lot better, because we’re equals. We look out for each other, and no one is getting put to the back or left behind,” he stated firmly. Riza smiled at his explanation and felt her chest blossom with warmth at his words, along with a little flutter in her stomach.

“That sounds lovely, Roy,” she hummed in agreement.

Silence settled over them, and Riza turned her vision to the future, thinking about how everything was all falling into place conveniently for them. She was loath to damper on the moment for herself, but this seemed too easy. Letting go of her insecurities was easier said than done, but she gave herself a shake anyway. No, she wouldn’t let those fears ruin this lovely moment for herself.

“So, Central, huh?”

“I know,” Roy stated.

“This is a big move.”

Roy nodded. “It will be good for us.”

Riza agreed with him. “Definitely. I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun in the big city,” she joked. “Plus, we’ll be closer to Chris, so she’ll get to see Mia more often.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” Roy stated dryly.

“She’s great with Mia,” Riza said, eyeing him like he was crazy. “What are you talking about?”

“I meant for Mia. Poor kid must put up with her. At the best of times, it wasn’t fun,” he joked, mock fear on his face.

“She must have done an all right job because you turned out okay,” Riza retorted.

“Just okay?” Roy asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Riza felt a mischievous streak overtake her. “Yes. Just “okay”. Below average, but a passing grade.”

Something flashed in his eyes and Riza began to laugh as Roy tickled her mercilessly as a punishment.

“Stop it,” Riza gasped. “You’ll wake Mia up!”

“No, you will wake her up,” he grinned, continuing his torture.

“Roy!”

She was silenced with lips pressed hard against her own. Her laughs and gasps turned into moans as Roy’s hands stayed on her body, but began to stroke it instead, lighting a spark within Riza that only he could put out. She moaned his name as he moved down to her neck. 

“That’s a better volume,” he quipped.

Riza pulled at his hair gently, guiding him back up to her lips. “Much better,” she agreed.

*          *          *

The move to Central happened in a blur. Two days after Roy announced it, and was officially told himself, they were expected to move out of their apartment within the week and head to Central. The military had already allocated Roy a new home in the city, so they were expected to be ready to go.

Talk about military efficiency, Riza had thought sourly, exhausted after cramming her packing time into two days, rather than the weeks she thought she would have. Luckily, they let Roy off work so he could prepare too, so she didn’t have to do it all by herself. It made the hectic and stressful time in her life easier to deal with while he was helping.

Now in Central, Riza barely remembered what happened. The move was over that quick. One morning she woke up in their apartment in East City to a fall asleep in a different one.

Except this wasn’t an apartment. It was a house. Roy had specifically put in a request for them to have a house.

“I wanted to save the trouble of moving again, since the family is growing.” He’d shrugged, like it was no big deal. Riza had been touched that he’d been so thoughtful. “I don’t want to drag Mia through all that chaos again.”

Their five-year-old was surprisingly calm throughout it all. Maybe she could sense how stressed her mother was and kept quiet. Of course, the military expected Roy to check in at Central Headquarters the day they arrived, leaving Riza to unpack. He’d been assured it would only be an hour or so, however four hours later, Riza was worrying about where he’d gotten to. When Roy did eventually return, he was extremely apologetic and had even stopped off at a bakery to pick up a coffee and a pastry for her.

“I promise, I’ll make this up to you,” he’d assured her. He didn’t have to, but Roy was adamant. The look in his eye told her that the “making up” wouldn’t be coming until after they’d retired to bed.

She wasn’t annoyed at him. Her sourness was directed more at the military, which was happening more frequently these days. It didn’t mean that the making up for his prolonged absence wasn’t welcome. Far from it. He’d become more affectionate recently, and Riza accepted it wholeheartedly. She enjoyed every second of it. It made her feel so loved, which she was eternally grateful for every time. Roy had that effect on her.

She couldn’t wait to see what their future held in Central. Despite being exhausted from their move she was thoroughly excited. Their home was perfect. It was large, spacious, and had room for them to grow within its walls. It was military owned, but far from what Riza had expected it would be. In her mind it would be beige walls everywhere, with no character or warmth. Instead, it was an old townhouse that had been taken over for military accommodation, which still harboured the old wood panelling in the hallway and plush carpet throughout the ground floor. It was warm and welcoming, just what she’d always wanted in a home.

 Mia adored the large back garden and the first day, she’d stood with her face pressed against the glass of the patio doors, mind boggling at the sight of the expanse of grass before her.

Roy had regaled her with his plans for the space. “We can get a swing,” he had explained, casting his hand over the old oak tree at the corner. “We can tie it around the tree branches and Mia can swing from there. When the little one is old enough, they can join her,” he grinned. “In that corner,” he gestured over to the opposite side of the garden. “I can build a small vegetable patch and we can grow our own.”

Riza glanced up at him and noticed the sparkle in his eyes as he spoke about all of this. She remembered the conversation they’d had about their ideal lives, and how Roy said he wanted a vegetable garden. She smiled up at him, catching the bug for his excitement and turned her attention back to the garden as he showed off the space.

Yeah. Riza couldn’t wait.

[writing-apprentice]

A Gothic AU

Author’s Note: This is a not so great fic idea that I had to get out of my head. I just thought a Gothic AU would suit the Seeds from Far Cry really well so I just went with it. If anyone is interested, I might post more, but for the most part, it’s just something to work on so I have somewhere to put some restless energy.

Also, I said if I ever wrote something I’d tag @seedlingsinner. Hi, I’m the annoying au anon. Thanks for putting up with my long-ass asks, and for the inadvertent encouragement the other day (I sent the ask about it feeling too long too =/ )

Anyway, here’s a thing.

Warnings: None, really, everything is implied so far. It’s mostly set dressing and setting things up.

Miss Rook Faulkner had been called many things by a variety of people. Her teachers had called her troublesome, rebellious, overzealous, too high spirited and, in the case of the nicest teacher at the boarding school, a delightful and opinionated young woman. Her mother had called her many more things, including ridiculous, petty, fanciful, too serious and a variety of other contradictory insults depending on how little attention she was paying to the constant pursuit of a suitor that her mother expected of her. The most important thing she had been called though, and perhaps the thing she treasured most, was to be called a friend by the dear Miss Faith Seed.

As much trouble as Rook had made at her boarding school as she grew, she had ever been accompanied, and indeed encouraged in her endeavours, by the equally as mischievous Faith, someone who Rook admired and cared for more than she could put into words. When the two had graduated from school as fully accomplished young women, they had made their promises to stay in touch, and Rook had been more grateful than anything when the first letter from Faith arrived. Compared to her mother’s constant search for a husband for Rook, Faith’s idyllic life in the country with her brothers sounded almost magical. When, after a season of Mrs Faulkner doing her absolute best to thrust Rook into any social situation that she possibly could, Faith finally sent an invitation for Rook to visit, she was so overjoyed that she barely remembered she had to run the idea past her mother first. When she remembered, immediate despair took hold.

Her mother had dismissed her out of hand at first. She found it improper and too risky and she remembered the gossip about that Seed family and no daughter of hers would ever be caught dead at their household. It took the entire spring of begging and subtle mentions of the many estates in the country and bachelors that may inhabit such estates that finally convinced her mother to allow her to go, just for a month.

That was how Rook found herself in a carriage, bag stowed away and staring contemplatively out the window. She imagined she looked rather like some protagonist in one of her novels, staring wistfully into the countryside as it passed her by. The thought amused her, as she spent the time switching between watching the world pass by and reading a novel to pass time. It was a couple days journey from her home to her friend, and while she found herself impatient to see Faith again, Rook managed to find the time to rest as the journey continued and to contemplate the dreams that such rest brought her.

The most vivid was on the night before her arrival. Before that, there had been only glimpses really, she felt rather than saw the darkness, the storm that seemed to be around her. She smelt hay, and rain. It wasn’t until that night she saw anything for the first time. She seemed to be out in the cold, the wind howling at her, and the only shelter in sight seemed to be some sort of stable. She headed towards it, shutting the doors behind her as she entered the small area. The light from the lantern she carried didn’t carry far into the room, as the shadows around her seemed almost oppressive. She stepped in further, calling out, and hearing nothing but the sounds of horses shuffling somewhere in response. While Rook had experience with horses, indeed riding had been a skill she was taught, there was something disconcerting about the shuffling noises that came from within. As she carefully took a step closer, she saw a shape in between the stalls and woke with a fear that she could not explain.

The dream was bizarre, but it was quickly put out of her mind the next day as she prepared for the final stretch of her journey to the Seed Estate. She practically bounced in her seat as she waited for her carriage to arrive, ready to see her dearest friend after far too long apart. Her excitement was almost so much that she nearly managed to shake the feeling that, as she watched the woods pass by, something watched her back.

Overall though, her journey was pleasant, and she was overjoyed as her carriage entered her friend’s estate. It pulled down a long driveway, past green lawns that stretched to the forests that bordered the estate. The beautiful stone manor came into view, with a small courtyard waiting in front for the carriage to pull in. Rook could barely make out the edges of some sort of pond or lake behind the manor, and she couldn’t help but sigh at how beautiful the area was. This month would be magnificent, away from the city air and the heirs who frustrated her, catching up with her dearest and most trusted companion.

The carriage came to a stop, and the coachman had barely helped her down before a familiar young woman rushed up to embrace her. Rook couldn’t help the short breath of surprise, equal parts shocked at such a strong display of emotion and glad to see her friend, before she squeezed back, hugging Faith just as tight. After a moment the two broke apart, grinning madly at each other. No matter what was occurring around her, Rook had always found Faith’s smile infectious.

“It’s good to see you!” Faith said, continuing to grin at Rook.

“It’s good to see you too Faith, and I’m ever so grateful that you’re willing to have me.”

Faith waved a hand dismissively. “Of course we’ll have you, any time you desire it. My home is your home, you’re always welcome here.” Faith’s smile softened a little as she looked at her friend earnestly. The soft smile was gone but a moment later as she added conspiratorially, “especially when your mother is determined to drive you away by hounding you with suitors.”

Rook let out a groan, shaking her head. “Don’t remind me Faith, I have to go back at the end of the month, and I shall gladly put such thoughts from my mind ‘til then.”

A flicker of some emotion Rook couldn’t quite place passed over Faith’s face, but it was gone too quickly for her to dwell on it, banished by another brilliant grin. “Then I shall make the most of having you while you’re here”, Faith assured her, taking her arm. “Come though Rook, come in and relax. You won’t have to meet my brothers until dinner, and you will have plenty of time to rest from your journey ‘til then. I’ve told them all about you, you know, and they’re eager to meet the woman who has gotten me into so much trouble!”

Rook couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped her as she gently swatted Faith’s arm. “You started just as many of our little endeavours as I did, perhaps even more. I daresay you are rather the instigator, and I just your hopeless, lost follower.”

Faith chuckled as one of the household staff opened the door for the two to step through. With a gesture from her, the household staff went about retrieving Rook’s bags and bringing them inside as Faith led her through the home to her room, filling her in on the minutiae expected of a host. She paused as she opened the door to Rook’s room, a beautiful space that had a lovely bed, a desk, and a large window with a view across the lake. Rook couldn’t help but smile at the view as she stepped in.

“Faith, this is a beautiful room, and I must admit I am in love with this view.” Faith chuckled in response, seeming to relax slightly.

“I’m very glad you like it. The library is just down the hall too, should you find yourself in need of a good book while you’re here, and my room is nearby in case you need me. We have a bell system in the rooms too, so should you need a servant you have but to ring and one will come to your aid.”

Rook smiled at that, shaking her head a little. “I doubt I will need to use your staff too much, I’m still rather self-sufficient. Plus, I’d rather not draw them from their duties. Thank you though Faith, truly.”

Faith smiled, taking a small step back. “I shall leave you to freshen up then. If you need anything, just let us know.” Rook nodded, and with that Faith stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her. Rook couldn’t help but give one last look around the room in amazement before she went about the process of settling in. This month was going to be heaven.

After a brief break to refresh herself, Rook peeked out into the hallway, looking around for her friend. She supposed she could call out for her, but Faith probably had other things to do, and she had pointed out where the library was. After deliberating a moment longer, Rook headed down in the direction of the library.

It wasn’t too hard to find. The large oak doors that led to it were open, and Rook headed inside without a second thought. The library was enormous, and she couldn’t help but look around in wonder. There was shelf upon shelf of books, and as she walked along an aisle, running her finger along the titles, she noted someone had gone to great care to organise and alphabetise them. She smiled to herself as she reached the end of the row, looking around and noticing the large window, with its own window seat built-in. She headed towards it, noting the beautiful view of the woods that stretched beyond, and the small building in a paddock close to the house. A stable, she had to presume, that looked eerily familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. She turned back to examining the books, noting what books of each author that they had.

She was startled by a voice as she reached the end of the next aisle. “And who might you be?” The voice purred, making her jump at the sudden noise. She looked in the direction it came from, noting the profile of a tall man in one of the plush reading chairs.

He was tall. Even though he was sitting, she could tell he’d tower over her if he stood. He had reddish hair that glowed in the light from the window, and he was watching her out of the corner of his eye, the book she had presumably interrupted him from still open on his lap.

“I’m Rook Faulkner, I’m Faith’s friend. I-“

“Ah, I know who you are now.” He closed his book, setting it on the table beside him before standing. “I’m Jacob, Jacob Seed.” He bowed, and she was halfway through her curtsy in response when she noticed it.

A large scar bisected his face, the skin seemingly marred by fire at some point in the past. She hesitated only slightly in her curtsy, mulling it over. She remembered when Faith had come to her at school, crying over a letter about how her eldest brother had been hurt in the line of duty. She had assumed he’d be missing a limb or another injury that seemed to be more typical of the conflict.

She must have paused too long, as he seemed to realise what had happened. His smile became tighter, seeming stressed and, perhaps, disappointed. “Ah, apologies Miss Faulkner, I suppose Faith didn’t warn you about my… disfigurement. I’ll try to stay out of your sight to avoid offending your sensibilities.”

A frown creased Rook’s forehead as he started to turn away. “I- It doesn’t bother me, sir, I apologise if I reacted poorly. I was just remembering when Faith got the letter about it, that is all. Please, don’t let me chase you from your reading spot.”

He seemed to stop at that, and he turned back to her, a slightly more genuine smile returning to him. “You sure this grizzled old soldier isn’t going to scare you away from the library. Miss Faulkner?”

Rook snorted in a rather unladylike manner, before realising and coughing lightly to try to cover it up. Judging by the amused twinkle in Jacob’s eye, he’d noticed all the same. “Please, Mister Seed, I’ve never been one to let appearances affect my judgement. You’d have to try far harder to scare me.”

He chuckled at that, seemingly at some private joke, before leaning against one of the shelves. “Brave one, aren’t you, Miss Faulkner?”

Rook smiled in return, looking up at him. She had been correct in her assumption about his height. Even leaning, he was at least a head taller than her. “Please, just call me Rook. Miss Faulkner sounds far too similar to my mother.”

He laughed at her grimace, a deep rumble that made her smile again too. “Alright then, as long as you call me Jacob. There are too many ‘Mister Seeds’ in this house otherwise.”

She nodded in agreement. “It’s a deal.” She extended her hand, a small smile on her face at the notion of shaking over such a silly little matter. He took her hand in his, shaking it, and she couldn’t help but note how much larger his hand was than hers, and how warm too. He squeezed her hand before letting go. “Very well then, Miss Rook.”

She felt a blush rise in her cheeks, although she wasn’t sure why, and he smiled at that, something darker lurking behind his eyes. He seemed about to say something more, but as he opened his mouth Faith appeared in the doorway behind him, grinning. “That’s where you’d gotten to”, she said with a grin, drifting in. Rook felt herself take a step back from Jacob, wondering when he’d gotten so close, before smiling over at Faith. “Making trouble and harassing my brother, it seems”, Faith teased, a cheeky grin pulling at her lips.

“She’s doesn’t seem as troublesome as you made her out to be, little sister”, Jacob chimed in, grinning down at Faith. “Unless this has all been some sort of distraction so that you can fill my bed with frogs or some other dastardly prank.” He raised his eyebrow, looking between the two with a teasing smile. Faith giggled, and Rook couldn’t help but laugh too.

“You have nothing to fear, Mister Jacob, that punishment is reserved for wicked old nuns who insist on confiscating our hard-earned books.”

“If, by well-earned you mean stolen from the library”, Faith chimed in, stepping forward to wrap her arm through Rook’s. “But you must excuse us brother, we have mischief to make elsewhere. It’s been far too long, after all.” Faith grinned between the two, already starting to move with Rook towards the door.

“I shall see you later, Mister Jacob”, Rook called over her shoulder as they headed through the door.

“Later then, Miss Rook”, Jacob replied, his voice following behind them as they left the room.

Faith took Rook out to have a brief stroll by the lake, filling her in on her time after school and what she’d been up to. She’d been reading and focussing on her art; she’d even been able to convince her brothers into allowing her to study some of the sciences. Rook would hate to admit it, but she was terribly jealous. As shameful as it was to think, sometimes Rook envied the freedom that not having parents gave Faith. She instead relied on her brothers, who some would say indulged her far too much.

It was nice to hear Faith talk though, Rook found herself thinking too on how much she’d missed the company of her friend, her voice and the small laugh she had that always managed to make her smile.

They finished their walk, and Rook went to her room to refresh herself and write a letter to her mother to say she’d arrived safely. Hopefully, she could post it sometime tomorrow.

She changed into a different dress for dinner, a lovely blue muslin dress that, with white gloves to match. She pinned her hair carefully up, and with a final nod deemed herself ready for dinner. Faith met her at the stairs and walked with her down to the small living room, where three men were already gathered. One was the tall redhead from before, Jacob Seed, and while Rook did not recognise the other two, she could only assume they were Faith’s other brothers.

One was taller than the other, although still not as tall as the eldest. He had dark hair, longer than she expected, and pulled back in a bun. Beside him, talking rather animatedly, was a shorter man with equally dark hair, a well-kept beard, and beautiful blue eyes that flicked up to focus on Rook and Faith as they entered.

“A discussion for another time, brother, for it appears our guest has joined us”, the younger man said with a smile in Rook’s direction. They all turned to face Rook and Faith, bowing. Rook curtseyed in response.

“This is Miss Rook Faulkner, my dear friend. Rook, you’ve already met Jacob, but these two are Joseph and John, my other two brothers.” Faith smiled at Rook, before turning to her brothers slightly mischievously. “Play nice, she’s dear to me and I shan’t have you scaring her off.”

The younger one, John, laughed as he straightened from his bow. “From what I’ve heard, we’re supposed to be frightened of the two of you reunited.” Rook chuckled softly.

“Only if you do something to bring it on yourself. We are merciful, after all.” Faith giggled at Rook’s statement, as did the man with the bun, Joseph.

“We’re overjoyed to have you in our home, Miss Faulkner, and we hope you enjoy your stay with us”, Joseph said with a kind smile.

“Please, just call me Rook.”

“Miss Faulkner sounds too much like her mother”, Faith added with a slightly wrinkled nose, before giggling.

“Miss Rook it is. Shall we head into dinner then?” Joseph asked, gesturing to the doors to the dining room. Faith nodded, leading the way as they all entered to sit for dinner.

[snowtimeisbesttime]

Thoughts and questions on Pesterquest Volumes 1 & 2! Two days late, but better late than never I guess!

Overall:

-[insert all the heart emoji pics ever]

-The title screen's kinda ominous, what with the music and the glitchy logo... Also kinda fitting for what goes down in certain routes of the launch volumes, though. (It should be noted that Friendsim's first volumes were relatively calm compared with later ones as well.)

~VOLUME 1~

-No fucking shit MC would be pissed off, and at Scratch specifically. Thankfully, the Best Guest (Spades Slick)'s here and has them covered while they go off on a new adventure... though if a certain other DS decides to poke around here and fuck shit up, methinks he's going to catch some fucking hands. And i'll be here cheering the MC on.

-MC now has the powers of the house juju (canonically the most powerful thingy in all the narrative, as it can retcon pretty much anything) and therefore the ability to zap anywhere... though it came at the cost of their memories of Friendsim. Obviously this had to happen because they had to forget they read Homestuck in order to properly befriend the cast, but in-universe... did they get “scratched” somehow? (Is that what happened to Fozzer back then?)

-Also, they were trying to go back to their friends in Alternia... we're going to have fun when we get to the Hivebent trolls. (inb4 the “probably vriska” thing comes back here; there's no way the MC isn't recovering their memories at some point)

-Scorist, sign of the Mutineer Mail

-And with the MC's yeeting of John's mail into a sewer, Pesterquest officially becomes a whole ass No SBURB AU. It's a shame the bunny had to be lost too, but there's a possible reason for that: breaking (more) timeloops, both here and in post-scratch Earth (Jake helping Jade build Liv Tyler the bunny)

-I hope they do get to play another, non- world-destroying game all together, though... wait, now that they're not playing Sburb they could play Minecraft, when it releases in about a month from now!!

-Unstoppable force (John wanting to know wtf happened to his mail) meets unmovable object (MC's willingness to keep digging themselves deeper in order to make friends)

-The beta kids are confirmed to be pretty much each other's only friends... :(

-MC looked like a weird alien on Alternia, but here on Earth they're just shaped like a friend, and nothing else.

-Dave's here too!! and he's also understandably concerned about this random Not Mailman that popped out of nowhere, at least at first. Considering we know Volume 4's title (The Loneliest Girl in the World) Volume 3 will probably feature him.

-mc Hass the ghost blanket

-MC says the house juju may belong to Lucifer... which obviously means Lord English, but might also refer to Vriska... (lucifer means “light- bringer”, and iirc vriska did have some overlap with the whole “demon without an eye and an arm” foreshadowing??)

-Considering Rose's volume, John probably finds out about the MC's powers in his good route, while in his bad one they both go on a stroll through time... then again, we don't know if this is like Friendsim, where only the good ends were “canon”...

-Whenever people need to Discuss Important Tactics, John's backyard's the first place anyone thinks about. Good to know there can be multiple people running around with retcon powers though.

-We get to see something of what led up to the Masterpiece, after who knows how long! And John gets to imagining what events will lead to him and his friends getting colorful pajamas, powers and four (4) new friends... not that he knows that *he specifically* won't have that future. John's bad route is... actually very depressing when you think about it...

-the first thing i thought of when john said that he thought Future Him & Co kept saying “english” was that they were telling jake to get off the pogo ride before he like fell off and fucking died or something... and then a while later i was like Wait Fuck They Meant Lord English He Sure As Hell Exists

-even back at the very beginning of homestuck, dad's dadly energies are too powerful

~VOLUME 2~

-This singlehandedly catapulted Rose to my Most Favorite Characters list; not that I didn't love her before, but now im love her even more.

-We know now that all the kids wanted to play SBURB, be it because of Weird Destiny Stuff or to have a good time with their friends, but Rose was the one who wanted to play the most... to talk with Jaspers again. This hasn't been addressed in this volume, but it might be in later ones.

-Good kitty, best cryptid. Also, Mom Lalonde's guide to lab intruders: sic a pumpkin tiger on 'em. Then again if she really thought we were a danger to her or to Rose we'd been sniped before we knew she was there...

-Rose doesn't have a short end; the first choice of her route only decides whether we befriend Cryptid Mc Whiskers (plus get some additional dialogue) or not...* or at least that's what i thought before seeing the image rips orz

-She's the kind of person who has a lot of interests but also has trouble settling down and focusing on one at a time... yall mind if i relate? (also, adhd rose??)

-And now we begin again the timeless MC tradition of “accumulating clothing from friends”. *At least in one route, apparently.

-MC gets into one of those “Screw This I'm Doing (What I Think Is) The Right Thing” moods, though they do mellow out later and Rose didn't take it badly. To be honest after the oatmeal thing I thought they'd head for the kitchen, rather than get rid of the alcohol; now we'll have to see if it has any effect...

-!!!!! Jade & Rose interacting ON SCREEN!!!! (also, Jade seems to still have access to Prospit despite the fact that they're not playing Sburb anymore... is this where “The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse” (the paradox space comic) hapens??)

-Bec's acting weird... wonder what's up with him.

-Then again, even in her good route Rose seems vaguely aware that something's different; in her bad route she straight up does Weird Light Shit, while apparently being able to hear MC's narration and probably referencing her Land (her comment about the rain lighting up a little). Looks like you can take the game away from the players, but you can't take the game out of the players... Rose's a Seer of Light whether she plays or not, and same with the others.

-Rose's routes are kind of weird in that the good one looks like it's going to be the bad one (re: MC getting in one of their stubborn moods, see two points above), while the bad one looks like it's the good one until it doesn't. Before getting there I genuinely thought Rose was going to have 2 good ends.

-We get some talk on wizards and witches, and we also get to read some fragments of Complacency of the Learned!!! Which is very much a subversion of typical wizard stuff, as Rose told us; even if she has a genuine interest in wizards she's still putting her own spin on things... kinda like fans interacting with content, maybe.

-Wizards hoard knowledge for themselves, while Rose, as a Seer of Light, explicitly guides others with her knowledge; from the SBURB walkthrough in GameFAQs (which she ripped from Earth's internet to upload it onto a server on the Furthest Ring, so it would help more people) to the book she wrote on the meteor. No wonder she despises them.

[trunaturalista]

Costa Rica: The Solo Traveler.

I have received so many DM’s and texts regarding my trip and I wanted to share a few answers. Please reach out if there is something I did not address. 

Did you use a travel agency for your Costa Rica trip?

Absolutely not. The only time I’ve used an agency was when I went to Dubai and that was only because I was traveling to the Middle East. I planned this entire trip myself. I found a great treehouse to stay in with wonderful owners that made the entire process seamless and meaningful. Google.com. Booking.com. Search for exactly what you want.

Did you stay on a resort?

Nope! I stayed in a treehouse/villa apartment vibe. It was gated, but anyone could honestly access if it really was that deep. This was one of the most amazing places I’ve stayed. I met all of the owners and they ensured I was happy, safe, each and every day. If you are afraid of bugs, lizards, monkeys, snakes, well the wilderness, do not do it to yourself. You will not make it, lol.

What made you select Costa Rica for your first solo travel trip?

It’s literally one of the top places for female solo travelers. Literally….do your research on every country, city, village you want to travel to and read articles. Check stats. Research crime. Costa Rica has always been on my very long bucket list and it seemed kind of perfect.

It is rainy reason, but I believe this season really gave me an opportunity to relax, release and think. It rained a lot at night and that is when I wrote, read, and meditated the most.

I really wanted to stay in a village to get the true experience although…many thought this was beyond dangerous. Most did not speak English at all and you have to be prepared for this. I loved hearing about the history of the village from the locals.

Costa Rica is the safest country in Central America…:)

This trip allowed me to travel on a small plane. I had to fly into San Jose and then take a domestic flight from San Jose to Tambor. From Tambor, my taxi ride was 45 mins to the village and to my treehouse. It was a lot of travel, but it was exactly the experience I wanted.

Were you scared? Did you feel unsafe?

I absolutely was scared…who would not be? I am always a little anxious before traveling to a new place, but it’s not a bad feeling – it’s like a rush, really. Like wow, I’m really doing this! When I arrived at the village and even when I landed in San Jose…there is not one moment when I felt unsafe. Everyone was warm, welcoming, and willing to give me information if I had a question about something. When I was out on my Quad and it had issues reversing and switching gears, someone was always willing to help. Even if they did not speak English, they still wanted to make sure I was good. Never felt like I was going to be snatched or sold into sex trafficking as so many people chimed in my inbox.

Why solo travel?

I’ve learned that people are extremely disappointing and will bail on you at any minute when it comes to travel. I told myself that when I turned thirty, I would embark on this solo travel journey for a number of reasons:

The trip was about me! I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, how I wanted, hell I sat around naked for hours doing absolutely nothing but thinking about how blessed I was. My daughter. Future plans. My friendships. Relationship. Everything.

I was 100000% selfish. I spent money money! Bought what I wanted. I ate what the fuck I wanted. When I wanted, woke up when I wanted, drank when I damn well pleased andddddd was just naked as hell in the rainforest. I called the damn shots.

Man, I was able to recharge. Lowkey, but highkey, if you know me, I’ve been through a lot of shit the last year. Relocating twice. Job switches. Adjusting for both myself and my beautiful child. I’ve lost and gained friends. This trip gave me the space to recharge my mental, physical and emotional being. It was so necessary.

I love vulnerability. Like, solo travel is the ultimate way to put yourself in a vulnerable situation. Listen, I’ve moved to two places with/out any family or friends in sight – that is vulnerability. But, traveling to a foreign country solo is another level. It’s scary, but it’s a cool ass vibe man. With this….you can accomplish anything.

I needed and wanted to create a space to heal. That is all I can really say on that.  

I needed to find myself again. I get lost, found, lost, found. It’s nice. Meaningful. You literally have nothing but time to think about any and everything. It’s quiet.

Solo travel is super empowering. It’s only lonely when you decide not to go out and meet, talk to and explore, honestly.

What did your family and friends say?

Loaded question! 

Listen, my mom was excited but worried as any mom should be. My dad was on some ABSOLUTELY THE FUCK NOT ‘ASHA and probably didn’t sleep the entire time I was gone. My sisters were all for it and encouraging. My closest friends were super happy for me. My man-panion was worried, but also excited because he’s traveled solo abroad as well. So many folks in my messages with envious messages and words of encouragement. Felt great. But, there were a lot of ppl in my inbox spewing negativity. “You are crazy” “You can be sex trafficked” “It’s stupid to travel alone” “what about Zarah” “you wilding” blah blah blah etc etc etc. Thank God I am in a much better space now, otherwise I might have reacted negatively. I chalk it up as projection (clearly they do not have the vagina to live life out loud) and keep it pushing. And thank Allah that I have a hefty life insurance policy.

How much was your trip?

Stay out of my pockets, playa, lol.

What tips do you have for female solo travelers in Costa Rica?

Research the city/village you plan to stay in. How do they dress? What is around? Are there things to do? Is crime heavy? Try to dress the part. The less you look like a tourist, the better. Bring boots or some sort of heavy duty shoe. Cover up!

Walk fast. Yo, keep it pushing. Get to where you are going to get, period. Google maps!

Keep cash in multiple places just in case you are robbed. Let’s be honest…crime happens everywhere and if you look like a tourist, you are in a vulnerable position. Keep cash in your bra, you backpack, your shoe, your pockets. If you are unfortunately robbed, they won’t get to all of those places. I cannot express this enough!

Do not be afraid to speak to strangers. You honestly do not have a choice. I mean, you could sit around and simply not socialize with anyone, but that really is no fun. This trip gave me an opportunity to put myself out there and talk to people in my broken Spanish ways, lol. I was forced to make friends. When I went to yoga, I met three people from Washington D.C all of which were female and in Costa Rica alone – it felt great. Had I not opened my mouth, I would have never met those travelers.

Solo travel means you are not splitting the cost of anything with anyone – it can be costly. Save up for solo trips and accept that you are going to have to drop some bread to enjoy yourself, depending on what you want to do. Luckily, $1 USD = $568.26 colones so I pretty much balled out in that village, lol. Food was cheap. A whole meal could be about 3000 colones, which is only $5.00 in USD. And by whole meal, I mean a whole Red Lobster meal for $20.00. Like, I’m not kidding.

Alcohol – Well, due to recent “deaths” due to Costa Rican alcohol, I was definitely on super high alert. I brought my own American shots to Costa Rica and visited the village market for wine. I only purchased wines that I knew were sold in America and that were not made in Costa Rica as a precaution. I did not drink at any of the bars in Costa Rica when I was out to eat because I had everything I needed at my treehouse. It made sense. Always be safe. I was not too alarmed by the number of deaths considering the millions of people that travel in and out of Costa Rica daily, but still.

Please pack bug spray and sunblock. Listen, the bugs are looking for blood and Costa Rica is way down by the equator. The HEAT HITS DIFFERENT OK. Protect your skin at all times! Plus, there are a lot of questionable bugs that I know bit me, lol.

What were your struggles?

I worry a lot. I’ve always been a worrier as my mom says. When I could learn what it meant to worry, I started lol. I worried about so many things, but I didn’t let it overcome me.

The village was intimidating – at first. But, once I got out there and drove around, I was cool.

My ATV/Quad had major struggles, lol. The first night I went out for dinner at this place called Koji’s and I couldn’t get the damn thing to start or reverse. A man saw me struggling and started walking my way. I’m thinking….OH GOD, it’s over for me, lol. But, he came over and got me on my way. I was grateful and he….was harmless.

I am not super friendly, but I’m not mean. I struggled with walking up to strangers and asking questions. But, I did it. It was awesome and I met some amazing people! 

Interesting thing happened:

On my flight from the United States to San Jose….there was a mother and her small child, maybe 6 or 7 months old, traveling to Costa Rica alone. She happened to be walking by my seat on the plane and started to have a seizure out of nowhere. The flight attendants were asking who could hold the baby and no one wanted to hold the baby. 

This was happening right next to me. 

There was a doctor and two nurses on the flight and they confirmed that she was having a seizure and that we had to let it pass. Mind you, this baby was screaming bloody murder and needed a damn diaper change. Finally, she wakes up and explains that she has never has seizures before and she seemed fine as she grabbed her baby. No less than twenty minutes later, she starts having another seizure and we embark on an emergency landing into San Jose. As for anyone….this gave me major anxiety. I started to think…what will happen to me if I have a seizure? I have no one around. Nobody knows my health history. Anxiety began to really whoop my ass due to this horrible event. I was able to breathe, push through, etc. Prayer, meditation, faith in God, really.  

Summary?

This trip taught me that there is nothing to fear but God. And (as my friend says) that the world is big and you are safe in it. I feel like a new person. I feel refreshed. Renewed. Free. I feel like a got damn beast. I feel strong. Empowered. Powerful. I feel invigorated. I feel sanctified, damn I feel liberated. Ugh. Go for it. Travel solo. I cannot wait to book my next destination and share it with you all.

[tessatechaitea]

Teen Titans Spotlight #1: Starfire

Comics in 1986: "Let's begin our new series with Starfire battling Apartheid!" Asshole Fans in 2019: "Comics should go back to the good old days when they weren't political!"

Really, M&M's? Everyone? Haven't you heard about Apartheid?!

So far the craziest thing about this comic book to modern audiences is how boring M&M colors were in 1986. I suspect I don't have the maturity to comment on a story about Apartheid. Oh well! Let's do this! The story is called "Black and White" because, you see, Apartheid was about how whites and blacks experienced two disparate South Africas. It's also a play on how "black and white" is a way to describe issues that have easily recognizable positive and negative sides. It's probably racist that we automatically assume the black side is the negative side. Maybe that also plays into the title! Chess pieces are black and white too so maybe the title alludes to chess. Maybe something about pawns versus the gentry. Marv might even work in some bits about The Beatles seeing as how they're using that zebra crossing on the cover of Abbey Road. Starfire has just returned from Tamaran where she married that dweeby Prince Karras guy. He was Tamaran's version of Terry Long. I'm surprised more panels didn't show Starfire and Donna in the background giggling and holding their index fingers and thumb a teeny, tiny distance apart. Starfire didn't spend eighth grade on Earth so she never learned Earth geography. So instead of flying in from space and looking at Earth and going, "Okay, that's New York right there!", she winds up in South Africa. I bet she came at Earth upside down and got confused. It's easy to get confused in space where up and down don't exist in any objective way. Starfire descends upon a group of black people chanting "Informer" at a woman they eventually soak in gasoline and light on fire. Holy fuck! This comic book just got more real than all 114 issues of New Titans I just recently reread! Except maybe that part where Raven raped Starfire during Starfire's wedding. That was pretty heavy. The white police arrive to commit some justice. Unless I meant "racism" instead of "justice." Sometimes, living in America, it's hard to see the difference.

I bet this guy has a MAGA Twitter account.

How many of your racist family members often bring up black on black crime when discussing gun control or cops shooting unarmed black men? How many of those idiots don't think they're being racist when they bring up that argument and just think they're being logical? It's fucking racism, dudes. Cops killing unarmed black men has nothing to do with black men being killed by criminals who happen to share their same skin color. Nobody ever talks about "white on white" crime. That's just crime perpetuated by criminals against innocent people! But somehow a black person shooting another black person belongs in some kind of special category? Of course a black person is probably going to be the victim of a black criminal because America had this thing called white flight. It caused places to become poor black neighborhoods because white people couldn't handle having even one black neighbor. So people and businesses moved out, local governments ignored infrastructure of those areas (or purposefully simply just built freeways straight through them), and constantly sent the police in to hassle innocent people just trying to live their fucking lives. Systemic racism (and racists!) segregated the races in a fairly efficient manner. So when a black criminal looks for a victim in their neighborhood, of course they're going to almost certainly find a black victim! That's simply crime, not black on black crime. Maybe I would think differently if anybody ever at any time in any of these debates brought up white on white crime. Y'all realize that's the most prevalent crime there is, right? Which means whites are the biggest criminals of all. If you're, you know, going to argue that way, you stupid racist asshole. Plus saying black on black crime is just a way for people to intimate that most crime is caused by black people. "Even though they keep criming us whites, they still have time to crime up their own people!" This comic book taught me that South African police would use purple dye in water cannons to stain people during protests so that they can be identified later as people who participated in the riot that totally didn't erupt later due to the police being overly aggressive and also racist. Wolfman says people "affectionately" called it Purple Rain which led me down a rabbit hole to figure out which came first, the racist ploy to arrest as many people as possible or the Prince album. Apparently the dyed water was named after the Prince album. That's probably why it was an "affectionate" sobriquet.

I'm a little bit worried that Wolfman is about to "both sides" Apartheid.

Starfire winds up with the South African police who tell her all about how terrible South African blacks are and how she's going to get a medal for helping quell the protest. They also call the woman who burned to death a bitch so I'm getting the feeling that they're not really interested in any kind of justice or peace. It's quite possible that — hear me out on this — they just want to oppress the black citizens and make sure they know their place. But I don't want to jump to conclusions! I should wait until I hear their arguments in a frank and logical debate. "Please, white South Africans, explain to me how South Africa needs your violent tactics and racist attitudes to maintain peace and order. Also explain how peace and order aren't different from justice for everybody. I might be convinced to stop calling you racist if you debate well!"

This guy doesn't realize how true it is that he's teaching these black South Africans how to behave.

It would have been easy to read this, at one time, from a privileged position as a citizen of America and think that the white South Africans in this story were caricatures of racist monsters, playing up their terrible qualities to get the reader to sympathize with the plight of the black South Africans. But these caricatures of despicable and horrible systemic racism using tactics to dehumanize a segment of the population are absolute mirrors of Trump and his deplorables. "They're animals." "They're not like us." "They do not think." "They are like children." "They fight amongst themselves." "We are just securing the peace." "This is God's country." "They need to be taught how to behave." "Their flagrant disregard for the law must be stopped." And all of these statements are simply excuses to treat certain people as less than human. "They get what they deserve." I'm so fucking disappointed in so many Americans right now. Starfire is completely confused by everything she's seeing. In her confusion, some journalists get her to sort of say she's for Apartheid. Uh oh! The Teen Titans are going to get worse press than when they destroyed New York City while arguing with their parents about their curfew.

Starfire's response is me on Twitter every fucking day.

The South African leader, Racist McRacisthole, tells Starfire not to worry about the journalists because they're always asking terrible questions and lying about how awful everything is. But Starfire is all, "Just because I have big hair and big tits and my ass is hanging out, don't think I'm a fucking idiot! Not that I'm trying to say people who look like that are idiots! But I know terrible people like you, Mr. Racisthole, think like that! So I just want you to know that I see you! I see what you're doing and how you're trying to snow me with all this fucking dehumanizing garbage! You remind me of the Gordanians!" Then Starfire gets so angry and delivers such a passionate speech that her nose falls off.

"I'b not gobing do libben do yub liebs aby lobber!"

Starfire declares she never cared for politics and tells Governor Racisthole that she's leaving. But instead of going, "Good! Stop interfering with our terrible government!", he says, "I won't let you leave which will probably cause you to stay and help the oppressed!" Starfire hears a prisoner screaming in pain before she leaves and decides to stick around to help him. While doing so, she realizes that maybe she show these government officials real power! No, I don't mean she's going to flash her tits. Jesus. Some of you comic book nerds just don't stop, do you?! Sure, DC panders to your boners by putting Starfire in her underwear. But you do have the choice to stop being such creepy little fucks, you know?

Imagine reading this and instead of thinking, "You tell 'em, Starfire! Way to go!", you think, "Virtue signaler."

Starfire has some more thoughts from 1986 for us here in 2019. She just won't stop!

Virtue signaler!

I swear the rest of this commentary can just be scans of Starfire saying important shit.

I mean, if this 1986 comic book is an example of older comics that Comicsgaters want to go back to, I'm fucking up for that shit.

In the next panel that I'm not going to scan because I'll never finish reading this comic book if I scan every fucking panel, Starfire says, "Unwittingly, my father helped ruin our world by caving in to our enemies rather than fighting for what was right. I won't do that here on Earth. I've got to care." I should probably send that panel to Nancy Pelosi. Starfire frees all of the political prisoners and escorts them back to where they're forced to live outside the city. She tries to figure out what Apartheid means and Father Nelson Mandutu, the rebel leader the police have been searching for, tells her, "Ah, I see — you are trying to make sense of madness." It's as good a reason to dismiss people always pressing you to debate their terrible ideas and worthless topics. How can you win a debate against twisted logic and racist madness? Just ignore them when they call you a coward or an elitist when you refuse to debate. I was always taught that the best way to get shit off of your shoe is to scrape it off, not to get in an argument with it. Starfire follows Mandutu around for the day except for the one moment when he's kidnapped. When she goes to rescue him, she destroys an armory and discovers that Father Mandutu has been killed. BY HER! And there are cameras rolling! Totally not suspicious or anything! I bet we discover she was framed next issue! That's the kind of intelligent speculation you get from a Grandmaster Comic Book Reader like me. I can't be fooled even by the most subtle of plot twists! Teen Titans Spotlight #1: Starfire Rating: A. I should probably apologize to Marv Wolfman for all the insults I've made about his Teen Titans books. This was a well-written infotainment issue putting precisely the right character at the heart of an international travesty. And I thought a story about Apartheid was going to be boring! It's almost as if I forgot that every panel would have tons of side boob! Oh no! I just realized I'm one of those creepy little fucks!

[weareallfallengods]

Survival

Writing prompt:

If you’re over 25 and haven’t done something remarkable, you are hunted down and killed. Some people invent things. Some make cures for diseases. Others become established members of their community. You’re pushing 30, and somehow not dead yet, even though you cant think of a single thing you’ve done thats remarkable in any way. Why aren’t you dead?

I write for adults about adult themes with adult language. I try to tag possible triggers (but I know I'm not going to get all of them), so if violence or implied death or cussing bothers you, you'll probably want to find a different author.

********************************************

Somehow, that date came up again. Not quite sure how, but somehow, the number circled on my shitty wall calendar with the coffee splatter on it managed to be today. Again. It's been doing that for 5 years now.

At first I wanted to be a surgeon- save people's lives, make a difference, all that shit. Yeah, I was caught up in the hype for a while too. Just like everyone. Thought I'd make some ground-breaking discovery and change the world. Just like everyone. And then, at 22, I flunked out of med school. That was it. Dream over, kaput, fin.

When I opened my termination letter, it was like reading a death sentence. 10 years of prep and study down the drain. 3 years left. 3 years, and no idea what to do. No clue what I could do to save my own life after all those years learning how to save others.I drank for a solid month. I dont even remember that month now. My only memento from it is an entire skip of liquor bottles. It's a miracle I didn't die from alcohol poisoning. Not that I didn't try.

See, I was afraid. Scared, actually. Terrified would be more accurate, if I'm honest. I knew I only had 3 years left until they came for me. Unless I managed to do something extraordinary within the next 3 years, they'd come for me, and the only thing that would remain is a 2 paragraph obituary in the local paper, followed by a vacancy announcement. When you're suddenly forced to confront your own imminent demise, and see every dream, hope and aspiration you'd had evaporate, right in front of your eyes, its perfectly natural to drown that in a swimming pool of vodka.

But then, after a month of drowning, and a week of curing a hangover that would make Satan shudder, I got angry. Like Bruce Banner angry. As I was leaving an all night diner, the notice board caught my eye. Having nothing better to do with my life, I stood there for a while just reading every single card in detail, every single lost cat, every used car, every 5k charity run. And then I saw it. And I thought, "You know what? Fuck it, why not. I've spent all this time trying to do one thing that I've never actually done just whatever I feel like, had hobbies, anything really. Why the fuck not."

And that's how I ended up 2 days later in some shity warehouse district, rolling around on a mat with some dude I didnt even know, sweating and swearing profusely and having the time of my life. "Sasha's Self Defense" it said on the small, weathered and rusted sign on the brick wall out front, next to a door that looked like it had been transported straight from the proverbial gulag.

I'd naively thought this was going to be one of those Karate Kid knock offs for some reason when I first arrived. Sasha soon disabused me of that notion. In fact, when he saw I'd brought a new gi in a duffle bag, he laughed so hard he had to slap his ass down on a rickety folding chair just to keep breathing. Once he calmed his mirth at my expense, he let me know in a no-nonsense, 'I'm an old-timer and seen some shit in my day' heavily accented tone that this would be a class that focused on survival at all costs. "No bullshit wax on-wax off," were his exact words I believe.

And boy was he right. When I told him I'd set aside my year's tuition for lesson payments, well, wouldn't you know it, I became his most prized pupil; I quickly learned this was not a good thing. It meant 14 hours a day of the most humiliatingly punishing activity ever dreamed up by Moscow's Finest. I couldnt even move the morning after my first day. But somehow I limped my battered frame down to the bus stop and was only an hour late. Ha, only. Sasha seemed to take it as a personal insult. The only thing he hated less than sloppiness was tardiness it seemed. Apparently the 10th Circle of Hell was reserved for those who dared be late. And he made you earn your way out of that circle.

His only saving grace was fairness. If I had to suffer, at least I wasnt alone. Well, at first anyway. The few other students that suffered his wrath along side me doing slavic folk dances with wrist and ankle weights very quickly learned that this wasn't the type of class they had thought it was and soon I was alone with Sasha.

On the days I did well, I got treated to pierogies. Oh man, I lived for those pierogies. They were made by angels and served by someone I can only describe as if Jesus came back as a woman. Who was Russian. And spoke even less english than Sasha, if that was possible. His sister was as completely opposite to that sadistic maniac as it was possible to be and still be a human being. Where he was loud, she was soft. Where he was tough, she was gentle. Where he was strict, she was generous, even indulgent. Blonde to his brunette. Slim to his barrel chest. Cousin by marriage, I think they said. Well, relatives of some kind anyway. And she was the only one who could make him laugh. And when he laughed, the whole block knew! He was just that loud, that boisterous, with everything he did.

But I loved his little Anya. Just like everyone. But like in a wholesome, mom-ish kind of way. I loved her because I got to sit for an hour when she was around. Because she"d always tuck a to-go container of pierogies into my bag. Because she'd chide Sasha for pushing me too hard. In short, she was an angel.

But I have to hand it Sasha- in 4 months, he took a scrawny bookworm into someone who could pose for Men's Health. In 6 months, I could beat Ivan, his partner, in 5/10 sparring matches. In 7 months, I ran a marathon. In 9, he had me enter a triathalon. And I made it into the top 50 out of 500 entrants. Not too bad if I say so myself. In 12 months, I was beating Ivan almost every time.

And that's when the other Ivan showed up. After a year, Sasha decided it was time I learned weaponry. After all, no real fight was fair, he said. And Ivan (another cousin? Sasha had one heck of an extended family) instructed me on everything from broken beer bottles, to knives and pool cues. And my medical training paid off, because more often than not, I was the one stitching myself up if training got a little rough that day.

Eventually, I moved into the gym. Not sure how it happened, but I think I just got too tired to leave one day and never really left. Sasha didnt seem to mind since it meant I wasnt ever late again. Plus the coffee he imported was the best thing ever. Like it was so good that's probably the Extraordinary Thing he did to live as long as he had.

The days just melted together, into one long symphony of beautiful exhaustion and physical torment, as I poured myself into the first activity I could remember doing purely because I wanted to, something that numbed the dread of the finality of my life expectancy.

But then one day, one specific day, the one I'd been dreading in the back of my mind for a year came around.

They found me.

I guess they were a little slow in finding me, not surprising since I'd basically just disappeared from my old life, no forwarding address type thing. It wasnt intentional, it just sort of happened, what with me diving head first into something purely for me, without the thought of doing it for someone else. But they found me. Just like they find everybody.

See, it doesnt matter if you try to run, if you move, or change your name. They always find you eventually. I just hadn't thought about it in a long while. That year was the first time since I was probably 14 that I'm hadn't thought about the Gardeners. I guess that's why it surprised me so much.

Yeah, Gardeners. I dont know who came up with the name, in guess some misguided attempt at a positive PR spin bullshit to pass off squads of government assassins who's only job was to track down the NCs of the world and eliminate them. Sorry, NCs- Non-Contributors; the people who hit their expiration date without doing something noteworthy, something that was deemed to "advance or bolster the Human Condition" to borrow a phrase from the civics classes we had to take every fucking year of school. A cutesy sounding name that was supposed to make the government sound like a benevolent old couple pulling weeds from their garden of humanity. The worst lies always sound the sweetest, dont they?

And I was now 25.

It happened a few weeks after my birthday. Just another routine day for me, going for a light 5k run after my soak in a mineral bath. Light rain, most of the streetlights out, the few lights on in the warehouse district reflected beautifully off the streets. That's why I ran at night, all the colors changed that normally bleak neighborhood into something beautiful. It was just one little thing to balance out the harshness of reality, and I reveled in it.

I don't actually remember what happened exactly. I do recall seeing a suspiciously conspicuous homeless guy huddled under a loading dock awning, and then just a flash of movement from the corner of my eye. I think it happened really quickly; at least that's what Sasha said the next morning as he was making arrangements for me to visit another cousin of his "back in the old country". It could have been. God, after seeing the bodies around me in the aftermath, I hope, for their sake, that it was fast. 5 bodies. All still. I still remember my breath turning to blue fog, blurring the details of them. Helping me to be able to pretend I didn't see the blood mixing with the rain and oil, spreading out over the concrete like a macabre inversion of the cloudy sky above.

I'm glad they wore masks. It's bad enough having that scene burned into my brain forever, without specific people's faces being etched there as well. I'm glad I dont see their faces in my mind every time I close my eyes. I just wish I could still enjoy the rain. They managed to take that from me, even if I'm still breathing, so I guess they didnt completely fail. They just killed a part of my soul instead. But hey, there's plenty of people that don't like the rain, right? But I bet they don't smell blood when it does though.

And that was pretty much it. No sirens, no manhunt, nothing. Before I could process what was happening, I was on a bus, headed for "the old country", which, as near as I could tell, looked an awful lot like Pittsburg. Sasha's 'cousin' met me at the bus depot there, a man of very few words. Not as loud as his cousin, Zhena tended to communicate with looks, grunts and shrugs mostly. Same work ethic though.

And then the cycle repeated- 14 months this time before they caught up with me. Too bad that Zhena got caught up in it, he was a great guy. He and I didn't really become close or buddies or anything, but it still hurt to see what happened to him. To what was left of him anyway. The Gardeners definitely were trying to send a message with that. To quote an old wise man, "I didnt want to know, but now I do, and I'm telling you, you dont want to know." And that's coming from someone who was training to become a surgeon, so just trust me on this one.

This time, they were waiting for me. I think they'd planned on Zhena being enough of a distraction that they'd be able to take me out easily, but since since I woke up the next day on the floor of the sparring ring in a too large pool of blood that wasnt my own, I'd say they failed. The difference this time was I was on my own. No 'cousins' to call in favors from. No family I could call because I didnt want them getting a visit from the Gardeners either. I was alone this time.

Weirdly, I was actually OK with that. I'd been surrounded by family, teachers, advisors, tutors for so long that solitude was actually kind of nice. I could hear myself think my own thoughts for the first time in what seemed like forever.

I'm not ashamed to say that I took what little of value there was from Zhena's gym (I knew him well enough to know that Sasha was his only family) so that I could get a seedy hotel for a while. I did at least have the decency to let Sasha know, and that that would be the last he ever heard from me, to keep him out of trouble. Bad enough that 10 people were already dead, I didn't want Sasha or Anya's name added to that list because of me.

And so I vanished. Completely. Sure I travelled, kept studying and training like I had been, but never staying longer than a few months, never using the same name, copying other random people's habits and patterns so I didnt have one of my own for them to track down. Yeah it was cliche, but hey, I figured my dad watching all those spy flicks when I was young had to be good for something, right?

Sometimes I was a baker, sometimes a delivery driver, even a dock hand. Whatever it took to make a buck so I could eat.

I got really good at other things too. Like disposing of bodies. Not really a skill I ever thought I'd want or need, but Necessity is a harsh and demanding teacher. Sadly, my skill as a surgeon came in handy- bodies are easier to get rid of when they're in smaller pieces. And people are easier to turn into bodies when you know how they're put together intimately. Not what I had in mind for my life, but since it was the choice between this or dying, well, I guess I can put up with it.

I suppose that catches us all up to the present, more or less. OK yeah theres a lot that's gone down between Pittsburg and now, but it was all pretty much the same: lather, rinse, repeat. Literally sometimes. Those were the days it felt like there wasnt enough soap in the world to get all the blood off.

So here I am, I'm my single room in Kandahar, staring at the date that had somehow come up again. Every year, they send someone. Usually a team. And I survive. No matter how they come at me, or when or how many. I survive.

And I'm sitting here, staring at the calendar, steaming cup of espresso, just staring, as a light breeze fluttered the corner of the calendar page, sending the orchids dancing in the vase next to it. All I could think is, "How? How does this keep happening? I'm not even supposed to be here, not supposed to be alive."

As I raised my cup of espresso, something slid under my door. "OK that's weird," I said aloud as I stood.

The chair made an ungodly screech as I pushed it back and made my way over to where a small, cream colored envelope sat on the floor, a couple inches from the bottom of the door. It was heavy for it's size, but not because anything was in it, just the paper was that thick. Probably hand-made. It's odd the little things you notice in times of stress. Heavy, rough paper, no postmark, nothing written on the outside, just the flap tucked in, not even sealed. Reminded me of how my mother used to give out birthday cards. I always thought that was a little weird, but it was just one of her quirks that made her even more endearing to everyone.

I sat down a little heavier than I had planned and felt the chair crack a little. There was a single sheet of paper inside, folded in half; I was right- handmade paper. But that wasnt important, what was important was the heavy, blocky hand-written message it contained.

"We've been looking for you for a long time. It has come to my attention that you may have something unique to contribute after all. We may have been too hasty in judging your Ability to be a Contributor. I believe you do actually have a remarkable Ability to Survive. I'd like to speak to you this afternoon in the plaza outside the Blue Mosque. I will be alone, and you can approach me, so as to allay your justifiable suspicions. I will have a silver coffee set on the table in front of me.

I believe we can help each other, if you're willing to listen to my proposition.

-Soon,

Baddar"

Well, this is interesting.

[whispersandwhiskerburn]

An All Hallows’ Haunting

Summary: Dean, Sam, and Reader take on a case featuring one of America’s oldest ghost legends: the Headless Horseman...who rides on Halloween. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 6,745....holy shit, how did that happen? Warnings: A few pieces of language, a bit of suspense...nothing really. Author’s Note: I tried to make this extremely canon-style in characterization, plot, everything. This is a late contribution to my dear friend @plaidstiel-wormstache‘s Halloween celebration (thanks for the prompt, patience, and proof-reading!). I actually met her last Halloween when she asked me to beta a The Nightmare Before Christmas x SPN fic , so when she hosted, I had to get a TNBC prompt for this fic: “She’s the only one who makes any sense in this insane asylum”. Look for it along with some familiar characters from Burton’s animated holiday classic. Feedback is always appreciated!

“Seriously, you guys don’t do anything for Halloween?”

You had found the Winchesters on a hunt back in January, and you and Dean had officially gotten together in April… this was your first fall with them and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. The younger one smiled wryly, “let’s just say it carries its own brand of nightmares.”

“Yeah, once you’ve dodged Samhain himself, the whole idea of celebrating the season kind of loses its shine…plus, you know, we’ve been kind of busy.”

You nodded, understanding. In the past few months you had been there as Dean darkened under the curse of the Mark and had helped the brothers patch it up after Sam had gone behind both of your backs to get it removed by Rowena. You understood why he had done it… and you couldn’t feel bad about it, no matter what happened with Amara.

You were thankful to have Dean back. You weren’t ashamed of that.

You tried to get them back to the lighter topics—a role you were used to filling with the Winchesters. “Come on! Costumes, candy, trick or treating, pumpkins… pie?” Dean chuckled, and you smiled, “fall has its plusses. Halloween’s only a few days away, and we haven’t made any plans!”

“Don’t get me wrong, Y/N, if you’re planning to dress up, I’m all in for that.” Dean quit wagging his eyebrows long enough to dodge the French fry his brother tossed at his head.

“Sorry you two—your dress up activities are going to have to be postponed. It looks like we might have a case.”

Dean sat up, and so did you, ready to be a bit more serious. Sam was scanning the computer screen in front of him.

“Charlie” Sam struggled with her name and all three of you flinched, “flagged this when she uploaded the men of letters files and a bunch of the hunter’s journals that we pulled out of Bobby’s storage—a reoccurring haunting. Dean, you remember the Morton house with the janitor guy who showed up every leap year?” Dean nodded, and you shrugged.

“Kinda like that. Except the pattern on this one is much more spaced out, which is probably why no other hunter has ever caught it. Apparently, every 24 years there’s a rash of beheadings on Halloween near a place called Tarrytown, New York, about a half hour north of Manhattan. The residents link it to a local legend and get this—the spirit of a headless horseman.” Sam scoffed the last words and Dean shot a quizzical look at you.

“You mean the dude with the pumpkin chasing the goofy looking guy in the cartoon?”

“You’re talking about the short story by… Irving, I think?” You thought back to your community college English class— “’The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’. You’re telling me it’s real?”

Sam nodded, closing his computer. “According to Bobby, which is good enough for me. Looks like the horseman’s due to ride this year, so I’ll see you in the garage in ten?”

You slid back your chair, standing up at the same time Dean did. As Sam stalked off down the hallway, you pulled Dean close for a quick kiss.

“I’m taking a rain check on that dress up challenge, Winchester.”  

He settled his hands at the nape of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair.  “Oh, really? Have you got a French maid costume lying around somewhere?”

You kissed him again, then leaned back as your hands slid down his back to land on his narrow hips.

“Maybe. But now that you’ve put the idea in my head, I’m not gonna rest until I see this ass,” you squeezed his cheeks, and he settled his hips closer into yours, “in cowboy chaps.”

He was already leaning in for another kiss when he processed what you said, and leaned back to laugh—one of those good belly deep laughs that crinkled the corners of his eyes and brought an involuntary smile to your face. With everything going on, it was good that you were still able to make him let loose like that.

“Now come on, Cowboy. Let’s go take care of this horseman.”

He gave you a good ol’ boy wink and drawled, “yes ma’am.”

Trailing the Impala through the northern part of the country on your motorcycle had been a visual treat. You’d always enjoyed a long ride, the music in your one earbud the modern kind that Dean hated, and you could never get enough of, and the fall colors in the trees were just incredibly gorgeous.

They’d stopped a little way past Chicago for the night, and despite the good food, Sam and Dean had been in an irritable mood. Dean hated traffic and Sam had been trying to do research on the case, and had found that separating the fact from the fiction when it came to this famous ghost was a bit of a headache.

“It’s like researching Bloody Mary all over again,” he grumbled as they set off in the car again the next morning. You were relieved to get back to the drive—the brothers were less likely to be whiny when they actually got to the job.

You were surprised when you saw Dean flash his blinker, signaling a turn when the sign you just passed said Tarrytown was straight ahead. When he slowed at the next stop sign you pulled up beside driver’s door as he lowered the window, putting one foot on the ground as your bike idled.

“Sam’s found a current address to a contact from Bobby’s journal—a guy named Jack Bones. He lives kinda off the beaten track, but since we’ve only got two days till Halloween, we figured we’d stop there, see if he could fill in any blanks.”

You nodded your agreement, and Dean pulled out on the road again with you following.

It wasn’t a full ten minutes later when you reached the end of a rough driveway and found a huge garden, overflowing with pumpkins, complete with a sign detailing prices. You smiled, looking around to find the rustic house and it’s wrap-a-round porch. You decided immediately that you liked it, and whomever had decorated the porch with fall mums.

You had parked closer than the boys and you were already leaning down to smell the bright flowers when you heard the door slam on the Impala.

“Hello, there. Are you here to buy a pumpkin from the Pumpkin King?”

You looked up to see the skinniest man you’d ever laid eyes on—his eyes were sunken in, and for a moment, he seemed more like a walking skeleton than a human being. Then he stepped out into the sunlight, and you could see his bald head and wide welcoming smile.

You returned his smile, “no, sorry.  I’m looking for a Jack Bones, not a Jack-o-lantern.”

You saw Dean and Sam out of the corner of your eye as they walked up behind you and you stood up.

“That’d be me—call me Jack. Doll?” He called back through the screen door into the house, “were we expecting company?”

“Not to my knowledge.” The feminine voice was followed by striking older lady with shoulder length auburn hair wearing a colorful sundress despite the chilly October air.

Sam took a step forward, smiling disarmingly. “Hi, my name is Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean, and this is Y/N. We heard your name through Bobby—”

“Singer. Yeah he mentioned you two boys as well.” The smile was gone from the old man’s face and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Where is he? I’ve been expecting him for days.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks and you saw a hint of pain flash across their faces. You took Dean’s hand on instinct, squeezing it in support. You saw Mrs. Bones walk closer behind her husband, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Jack, but Bobby died almost three years ago.” You kept your voice gentle, sad to give the news. You’d never met the man who had helped raise the Winchesters, but you knew he had been a great man.

Jack nodded, his smile tightening to a thin line. “I thought that might be the case. It sure is going to make this thing harder though.”

The silence then was thick and awkward until Mrs. Bones stepped in front of her husband, “I’m sorry for your loss. My name is Sally. Would you like to come in? I’ve got an apple pie cooling off—and I’ve always found that hard news and hard times are made lighter with good food.”

Jack seemed to shake off his melancholy and turned to look down at the woman beside him, smiling. “Thanks, Sally.”

He turned to face us, “I always listen to her--she’s the only one who makes any sense in this insane asylum of a town. You folks come on in and we’ll talk about what Bobby left you to do.”

Sam stepped up on the porch and Dean followed, your hand still folded inside his.

“Local tales differ on who the Hessian is—it gets tangled up with the Sleepy Hollow legend that made the town famous, but Irving didn’t write that story until 1819, after the Horseman had already ridden once twenty years before that.

“The real story gets mixed up with that quite a lot.”

Jack was leaned back, having swallowed his slice of pie in about four bites, and seemed ready to tell a story. Dean had scored two slices with a compliment to Sally’s cooking, and she looked on him fondly as he obviously relished every bite. You and Sam were more interested in what Jack had to say than the pie, but you were both taking small bites to be polite.

“I noticed—trying to separate fact from fiction online was difficult. If it hadn’t been for Bobby’s notes, I wouldn’t have believed there was really anything supernatural here.”

Sally laughed at that, “oh, there’s definitely something supernatural here. The Hessian’s ghost gets hyped up for the tourists, but we grew up here—we know the truth. The Hessian is the boogeyman that parents frighten their kids with…until the 24-year mark get close, then the newest generation gets told the truth.”

You put your fork down, sliding what was left of your pie towards Dean. “That was delicious, Sally, thank you. Can you two tell us what you actually know for sure about this ghost?” Sally nodded, then gestured to Jack to do the talking.

“Well, what is generally known by everyone who grows up here and who is willing to believe is fairly straightforward. The horseman, we call him the Hessian, was 24 years old when he was executed by beheading. The man was a murdering coward in life: he killed his superior officer to advance in the ranks of the British army, but when the battles started to get heavy with the Continental Army, he deserted his men. Most of his battalion died. He was captured, tried, and found guilty before being executed on Halloween in 1775.

“Except he comes back every 24 years—this will be his tenth visit. It always starts on the full moon in October when the Hessian rides away from where the battle was fought and into the woods. He rides again every night after that, retracing his desertion. And on October 31st, at least one person in the surrounding area loses his head, quite literally. Then the Hessian vanishes for another 24 years.”

Jack gathered up the empty pie plates after Dean scraped the last of yours clean. He moved to the sink to wash them off and Sally picked up the narrative with the smoothness of a couple who has been together for a long time.

“It’s not the full story, but it’s enough detail to convince most kids to stay out of the way of the Hessian. Not that it does much good. The victims of the horseman are found along his ride, but most of them go missing from their homes, and sometimes they are tourists.”

Dean spoke up for the first time since the pie appeared: “there’s got to be something connecting them.”

Jack turned around, wiping his hands on a towel as he smiled, “yeah, Bobby said the same thing. I didn’t believe in the Hessian at all when I was a kid, but that ended when I saw him myself.”

“Well, aren’t you Mr. Unlucky.”

Sally muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Mr. Stubborn maybe.”

Jack came back to his chair, either not hearing or not acknowledging his wife’s comment. “I’ve been around for three visits from the Hessian so far. The first time, I was barely a toddler, so that one probably shouldn’t count…but growing up hearing the stories, I always assumed they were complete crap. So, when the next visit was due when I was 26, I decided to find out the truth for myself.”

“And I told you not to. ‘It’s a mistake, Jack!’ I believe were my exact words.” Sally’s voice was scolding, and you couldn’t help smiling at Dean. They were honestly shaping up to be relationship goals.

Jack still pretended not to hear her and soldiered on.

“That year, ’67—the same year as that car of yours, I think—the full moon was early in the month, more than ten days before Halloween. After hearing so much about it my whole life, and then watching the whole town close up early superstitiously for six days in a row and the bars filled with gossip and whispers, I went out to see for myself what was going on.”

He went silent again and his eyes took on that look that older people always have when they look back on the past.

“We’ll leave it at the fact that I saw him that night. If you three are going after the Hessian, you’ll see him for yourself, and you’ll understand why I don’t try to describe him now.

“In 1991, the town prepared to weather the Hessian’s rides and kills again the best way they knew how—spread the truth to the next generation, close up the town early, laugh it off to the tourists… the usual.” Jack shook his head, his face grim.

“Three people died that year. I knew the Hessian was real, that he was coming, and I did nothing, we all did nothing. And three people died. When Bobby Singer showed up a few days into November and started asking around, it didn’t take him long to find me.

“He sat where you are right now,” he gestured to Dean’s chair, “and the two of us talked about the Hessian and ghosts and the supernatural until he convinced me that the victims had to have something in common.

“So, we started digging. And we didn’t stop until we figured it out. Bobby promised he’d be back this year, or he’d send you boys to finish the job. The horseman’s been riding the past two nights, and the night after next, anyone who has ever ducked a responsibility that resulted in the death of someone else is going to end up as headless as the Hessian.”

You and Sam looked at each other wide-eyed. You hoped you heard wrong, “you mean the horseman goes after cowards?”

Jack made a face like he didn’t know how to word something. Sally stepped into the silence, “not really. The horseman’s victims all have something in common—they had willingly chosen to do something, then failed, and their failure resulted in at least one death. One woman who was beheaded last time was a foster mom and the child accidently drowned when she wasn’t paying attention, another was a safety inspector who signed off on a building that was structurally unsound and collapsed on three people a year later.

“We think he’s not just reliving his failure when he rides away from the battle every night after the full moon. We think he’s also administering the same judgment he received against anyone who committed his crime, since so many died because he abandoned his post.”

The tenseness of Dean’s shoulders wasn’t something you’d seen since the Darkness had been released…which was probably part of the problem. His mind was at the same place yours and Sam’s had gone—Dean, having lost the Mark and released the Darkness on the world, was exactly the type of victim the horseman would go after.

“Are you three okay?” Jack was quick.

Dean stood up from his chair, nodding to Jack and Sally, “thanks for the pie and the help.”

Then he turned and walked out. You shot another look at Sam, gesturing to the older couple, hoping he would come up with some kind of explanation, then you followed Dean outside.

He was leaning against Baby, his eyes on the trees across the road, but much further away.

“Dean, you okay?”

Dean’s eyes didn’t even attempt to meet yours. “Oh, I’m awesome. It’s just been a long two days on the road, and apparently, we’ve got to find a way to kill a ghost when we don’t have a body to salt and burn. And, oh yeah, my neck’s on the chopping block, or Sam’s might be, depending on who this horseman decides to blame for Amara.”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, waiting for him to look at you. “Even if that’s all true, we’ve faced lots worse and come out on top. We’ll get through this too.”

You heard the door shut and Sam was walking out to you. Dean shifted slightly, and you backed up, giving him his space.

“I made our goodbyes and got directions to the place where the horseman rides. I also got Jack’s number in case we run into any trouble, or so we can tell him when the job’s done.”

Dean nodded, opening the car door and sliding in. “Let’s go find a hotel and make some kind of plan then.”

He slammed the door shut in a way that telegraphed that his head was still up his ass, so you walked towards your bike. You shrugged at Sam’s raised eyebrow, knowing he’d probably get an earful on the way into town.

As much as you loved the man, sometimes Dean spent too much time and effort dwelling on guilt and things he couldn’t control.

It had been a tense night. It had started as a somewhat reasonable discussion of possible solutions and past cases—everything from a woman in white, to a racist truck, to apparently even a ghost ship that hunted down people who killed family members… the Winchesters really did have quite a resume on spooks.

Soon it had devolved into sullen silences as Dean’s mood continued to worsen as he dwelled on the Amara situation and the guilt he and Sam shared for releasing her. You felt a part of the guilt, but not as much as the boys—it always seemed to you like, ever since they saved the world the first time, they could never get that weight of responsibility off their shoulders.

You had a different outlook. You did what you could, while you could, and let the rest take care of itself.

In the end, it was a grim group that headed out after sunset. According to Jack’s information, we could count on the Hessian to ride tonight, and he only ever appeared along the same path, but not always at the same spots along that path—apparently, he would vanish and reappear as he went.

Sam had gotten a map, and the plan was for the three of you to spread out along the line Sally had drawn, since the ghost wasn’t attacking anyone tonight or tomorrow, and try to spot him. You’d meet up after midnight when the ride was over and compare notes, and, hopefully, figure out a way to gank the bastard tomorrow night.

On the television, Janice Huff had predicted 56° F temperatures tonight, so you had dressed accordingly as the boys suited up in their flannels. Dean was staying with Baby, you took your bike, and Sam was dropped off in between the two of you. He was the fastest runner of the three of you, so it was the most logical way to go, but you could tell it only worsened Dean’s mood.

Something else for the man to worry over.

You were brooding over Dean—his weird connection with Amara, the guilt and pain inside him, his stubbornness—when you realized that a mist had crept over the ground.

That had not been a part of Huff’s weather forecast.

You gripped your salt-shotgun tightly in one hand and opened the video group call you’d set up between you and Winchesters with the other.

“Guys, you seeing this?”

Static.

“Dean? Sam?”

Nothing.

Awesome.

You tucked the phone away and straddled your bike. The mist was getting thicker and the temperature seemed to have dropped at least five degrees in the last few minutes.

You started the motorcycle, and instead of reflecting the light from your headlamp, the mist seemed unaffected by the bright light, but the darkness above the mist was pierced, letting you see nearly 20 yards away—just in time.

He was taller than you expected.

The horse was more shadow and mist than real, but the horseman on his back was much more substantial… or as substantial as a spirit ever seemed to be.

The shoulders seemed far too broad without a neck or head on top. His uniform was mostly navy blue, but covered in mud and scratches. The sound of hooves was thundering, drowning out the growl of the bike between your legs and the pounding of your pulse in your ears.

You raised your shotgun to your shoulder, the hair standing up on your neck as he drew closer seeming to aim straight at you, even though you knew you were several yards to the side of his path. You calmed yourself with the knowledge that the Hessian was only going to ride straight by. He was going to keep going. He was not going to attack you. He was—

He was right on top of you.

And he knew you were there.

It was an unnerving sensation—he had no eyes, no reaction, he didn’t once break stride, but he was aware of you. And his awareness was cold, cunning, and powerful.

You pulled the trigger without any conscious decision to do so.

The shot seemed deafeningly loud to you, as if everything else in the world had been muted. Your aim was dead on, and the ghost vanished immediately following your shot, leaving you alone on your bike.

Alone except for the lingering malevolent feeling of being watched and the slowly dissipating mist.

It took a lot to shake you up, but you were officially dreading this hunt. Despite your attempts to make light of your encounter with the Hessian, the boys, who hadn’t seen him last night, had picked up on the fact that something was off.

It might have had something to do with the new screaming nightmare you had added to your collection. It was part of the job, but, somehow, this hunt was different.

Sam was trying to be logical and supportive—asking details, treating you like a witness or a victim on a case in an attempt to gather information and help you get past it.

Dean was playing the part of angry-protective lover.

“If he’s intelligent, and capable of deviating from his pattern, that might be a good thing. It means we can distract him from his pattern, agitate him. We’ll get him to chase us across running water or onto hallowed ground—either one should be the same as salting and burning the bones.”

“Good. This son-of-a-bitch has got to go. But no more splitting up.” Dean had nearly had a heart-attack after hearing your shot last night and not being able to get a call through to you.

You were glad he had gotten over his brooding spell, but this suffocating over-protectiveness wasn’t really an improvement.

“We’ll get the job done, Dean, whatever it takes. I definitely got the feeling he’ll remember me after last night, and we all know that you two will make tempting targets for him considering his preferred victims. I agree that drawing him in shouldn’t be too difficult.” You fought back an internal shudder at the thought of being in that presence again, then scolded yourself internally.

You’d faced so much worse than this ghost.

You realized that you had been pacing the small area between the beds and the door in this crappy motel when you saw the worried glance the brothers traded.

“Guys, I promise, I’m fine. He didn’t touch me. I’m just…antsy.”

“Maybe you should stay behind, Y/N—”

“Dean—” Sam tried to warn his brother off… rather pointlessly. Dean was nothing if not stubbornly protective.

“If this thing has singled you out, maybe it’s not such a good idea.”

You stopped your pacing with your back towards Dean, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as you focused on the thought, he means well, he means well, he means well.

“And when you thought you or Sam might be the natural target? Did you think about tucking tail and running? Were you willing to take the coward’s way out and risk other people’s lives because of a possibility that you might be in danger? Be like the Hessian, you mean?”

You turned around to see him shifting uncomfortably on the bed and avoiding eye contact with you, because he knew that he would never have backed down from a hunt for that reason. Sam was pointedly looking at his computer and pretending he couldn’t feel the tension in the room.

Tonight was the last night the Hessian would ride without killing someone, at least traditionally. You had a feeling that your attack on him last night might have changed the status quo, but you didn’t have time to cajole Dean with reason.

Sometimes, the man needed to just be told what was what.

“I was on the job before we ever met, Dean. We all know the risks.” You gentled your voice, feeling guilty; you knew his reaction was instinctual and not intentionally insulting, “besides, we know the Hessian isn’t actually limited to his path—his victims get taken from their homes and hotels and left along the way. Staying away wouldn’t keep me any safer, and it certainly wouldn’t help gank this bastard.”

You went and sat next to him, and he finally made eye contact with you.

“So, let’s work together and figure out why he felt so much stronger than any other ghost I’ve ever tangled with. Sam? Any ideas on that?” You turned to face the younger Winchester as you threaded your fingers with Dean’s squeezing in confirmation that the two of you were okay.

He squeezed back.

“Well, there’s his age. Very few ghosts we’ve ever met have been haunting for 240 years. Then there’s the fact that he only seems to manifest for a week or two every ten years, which means he’s not really struggling with the pull of the veil and the mortal world the way most vengeful spirits do, so that might explain why he still seems methodical and not…” Sam trailed off, trying to think of a way to describe the average vengeful spirt you hunted.

“A rabid dog? On ghostly steroids?” Dean offered, and the three of you chucked, the tension finally easing a bit in the room.

Sam nodded, “exactly.”

You thought it out a bit, “and then there’s the fact that he seems to be linked with Halloween. If the legends are right, he was killed on the day, which is all kinds of supernaturally significant: crossing into the spirit world on the night when spirits have the easiest time crossing into the mortal world? And the full moon seems to have a role in this haunting and lore from all over the world links the lunar cycle with supernatural events. It’s no wonder he seems so much more than most ghosts.”

Dean squeezed your hand again, and you realized some of your inner dread had seeped into your voice while you spoke.

You forced yourself to sound more gung ho as you pulled your hand loose and clapped them together, “alright then! Let’s find us some old school holy ground or special running water to get rid of this thing once and for all.”

Dean studied you for a moment, and you knew he could see right through your false bravado. He let it go though, pulling out your computer bags from beside the bed so that you could join Sam in researching.

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.”

It had taken a few hours, but you had found a suitable plot of holy land: the site of a colonial church. Dean had taken a certain amount of sadistic pleasure in the idea of forcing a redcoat onto that land to kill him, which you had laughed at, telling him that the ghost’s uniform had actually been blue.

It had been the last moment of frivolity of the evening as you headed out to set up the trap.

Dean had wanted to have Sam on your bike and the two of you in Baby for the taunt and chase scene. You had told him that was stupid, and you weren’t letting Moose ride your girl. You had both backed off when Sam pointed out that the best method would be to keep everyone in one place, since the Hessian might have the ability to separate individuals anyway.

No need to make it easier on him.

You took the backseat since Sam had such a hard time fitting back there without laying out like he was going to take a nap. You had decided to start off where you had seen the horseman last night, and you waited with the car off, all of your eyes peeled for any sight of the ghost or of the strange mist that had preceded him before.

It didn’t take long for the anticipation to burn away to the boredom of any other stakeout.

“Here’s what I don’t get. Why did he go to you in the first place?”

Sam seemed almost disappointed, though whether that was a weird type of jealousy for a missed opportunity or just that he was stumped over a thought he’d apparently been chewing on for a while, it wasn’t clear.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dean turned to look at you, confused at your tone.

You kept your eyes out the window, even though the dark country view and the deserted lane wasn’t what you were really seeing.

“It’s another part of the job. We all accept responsibility when we take on a case. We promise ourselves that we’ll save everyone. We promise we’ll keep our loved ones safe.

“But we’re human. We hesitate. We make mistakes. And in this life, that means people die. It’s always been that way.”

You turned to look at Dean, hoping he would really listen to you. He needed to hear this even more than you needed to say it.

“So, when we lose people—family, like your parents, like Bobby; friends, like Kevin and Charlie, strangers like the ones that draw us to the cases we take on… we feel guilty about it. Even though we do all we can, we still feel like it’s all our fault, like we’ve failed in our responsibilities and someone else paid the price.

“And as long as we’re hunters, it will be that way, until we pay the price ourselves.”

There was a moment of silence in the car, then you continued in a low voice full of certainty. You understood your role in the world, and you understood this ghost.

“That’s why he’ll come after us. Not Amara or the Mark…it’s because we spend our lives taking on impossible fights, and we don’t back down even when we lose.” You looked back out the window, noting what might be the first wisps of mist. 

“This guy ran before the fight and died because of it. Even if we weren’t actively hunting him, he’d probably be coming after us because we’re everything he should have been and didn’t have the strength to be.”

A silence descended in the car again that lasted much longer than seemed necessary.

“Damn, Y/N. Deep much?”

You shot a smile at Dean, then pointed towards the thickening mist creeping over the ground. “Looks like we’re about to get this party started, so the philosophical discussions are going to have to be put on hold, boys.”

A moment later the sound of hooves began to vibrate the frame of the vehicle and the mist parted enough to see the insubstantial shadow horse and the much more intimidating headless rider cantering towards them.

“Go, Dean, now!”

Dean cranked up the Impala and hit the gas, shooting down the road. Despite the growl of the 550 horses under Baby’s hood, the supernatural soldier still seemed to be gaining.

“Dean, he’s gaining, go!”

“We’re almost at the church site, how far off is he?”

“50 yards…45 yards… C’mon Dean… 30 yards… 20…���

Dean’s wheels squealed as he turned almost 180° to stare back at the Hessian. The three of you piled out of the car quickly, Sam passing out the salt guns just in case.

Your heart was hammering, watching the horseman come barreling towards you and feeling that awful intent bearing down on you, calling you.

“C’mon, you son of a bitch, c’mon…”

Dean’s mutter grounded you, kept you from panicking as your pulse matched the pounding of the ghostly hooves—and when the sound cut off, so did your heart.

He was gone.

Barely five yards from the boundary line, the Hessian vanished from the lane.

But you could still feel the eyes, the malevolent power in the air, mixing with the mist and raising every hair on your skin.

“Where is he? Can you guys see him?” Sam and Dean didn’t respond, and you looked around frantically.

You were alone.

You pulled your salt-shotgun up to your shoulder and fought back the fear.

“Dean! Where are you?!”

The mostly full moon cut through the ghostly mist as if it wasn’t there and you turned and twisted, wishing you had your back to something, wishing the Winchesters were here.

Then you saw him, looming out of the mist in front of you.

The Hessian, unhorsed, beheaded, and wielding a one-handed sword and standing stock still. It was impossible to say that he was looking at you since he had no eyes, but every muscle and instinct in your body tensed for the fight you could practically taste in the air around you.

You braced and fired, pumped the gun to reload and fired again, all in seconds, sinking two rounds of rock salt center mass in the spirit in front of you.

“Y/N!” Dean was coming.

The Hessian vanished, but the presence was still there. But now, so was Dean, with Sam right behind.

“Are you okay? He snatched you somehow. The church grounds are about 10 yards that way.”

“He’s here somewhere. I got him with rock salt, but he’s not gone. I can tell.”

“There!” Sam pointed at the stalking figure of the headless man and all three of you aimed, but only Sam and Dean got a shot off this time. The ghost vanished, but the anger in the air seemed to increase, the mist having risen from ankle to waist high.

“Guys, we have to get him closer to the border line, force him over somehow.” You started backing towards the direction they came from and you fell into a familiar formation, you leading the way, Sam watching the retreat and Dean between the two of you, alternating from side to side to cover as many angles as possible.

“He was supposed to chase us over the line. How the hell do we get him across now?”

You could see the car ahead and knew you were close to the boundary line, but Dean had pointed out the main problem now.

“I’ve got an idea. Can you two buy me a few minutes? Keep him distracted.” Sam passed you, heading for the Impala while you and Dean went back to back to narrow the angles.

“C’mon you British asshat! Aren’t you sick of running away like a little bitch?”

You loved the man, but Dean was never good with subtlety.

The Hessian formed right in front of him, sword swinging at neck height for the decapitating blow. “Y/N, duck!” You dropped and rolled, coming up on one knee with your gun up. Dean was blocking the sword strokes with his shotgun, but each hit drove him back a step, the power of each swing enough that Dean was quickly losing ground, the sound of metal on metal clanging through the air.

You couldn’t get a clear shot off, so you got up and ran closer, not knowing what you were going to do, but knowing you had to do something.

“Y/N, take this!”

Sam was there, knocking your gun away and shoving something cold, heavy, and metallic into your hands.

“Clothesline him!” He pointed to one side of Dean who, you now realized, was deliberately losing ground to draw the Hessian closer to the border line.

You ran, gripping the metal in your hands tightly as it dragged then went taunt.

“Dean, hit the ground!” Sam’s voice was loud and just in time to avoid hitting Dean with the chain that you realized was stretched between you and Sam. Dean dropped, and though you expected the chain to go through and dissipate the ghost, instead it hit him square in the back, hard enough that you and Sam both swung closer towards him, your momentum dragging him forward.

The chain wrapped around the horseman, dragging him forward the last few feet and across the border onto what used to be church property in his time, and what was still considered hallowed ground.

The chain grew hot in your hands as the Hessian shook and burned, the air growing sharp as the cold intelligent hate you had felt since his appearance crystallized into a mind-piercing screech of pain.

He flickered, flickered, and vanished.

The chain fell to the ground, the mist vanished, and, most telling of all, the malevolent feeling that had been present for every moment of the Horseman’s presence was gone completely.

You flexed your hands, slightly burned and sore from gripping the chain, as you walked closer to Sam and Dean just a foot away from where the Hessian disappeared.

“You guys okay?”

Dean was standing up, brushing dirt off his knees and his now very scarred gun. He nodded briefly, but couldn’t seem to find words. Sam shook his hands, ran them through his hair then shrugged, “I’m fine. You?”

You nodded then kicked at the heavy chain laying on the ground, “what is so special about this thing?”

Dean leaned over and picked it up. “It was Bobby’s. We used it before on a ghost—a buruburu, actually.”

He seemed preoccupied with his thoughts as he hauled it back to the trunk, so you turned to Sam for further explanation.

“It’s an iron chain etched with spell work. When he didn’t follow the plan, I had to think fast.” Sam shrugged, like it had been no big deal to make that leap. As much as you could admire the looks of them, sometimes, you were amazed by the brains alone inside these Winchesters.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad you did. Anyway, you’d better call Jack, let him know that Tarrytown’s Hessian is gone for good.” Sam nodded, taking his phone out as you walked over to Dean.

He had just finished putting away his gun and the chain, but when he heard you, he turned and pulled you into his arms. You felt the shudder of relief go through him and relaxed a bit yourself now that it was over.

It had been a close one.

You stood up on your tiptoes and found his mouth with yours, pressing a sweet slow kiss to his full lips. Just as it was starting to heat up, you leaned back and gave him your coyest smile.

“And as for you, Monsieur Cowboy,” you said in your best approximation of a French accent, “I believe we have some Halloween plans back at the bunker.”

Dean’s smile was predatory as he pulled you into another kiss, “oui, m’dame.”

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[aion-rsa]

The Walking Dead: World Beyond Stars Talk Growing Up With Zombies

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To a certain generation of TV-watchers, zombies are an inevitability. AMC’s The Walking Dead, based on Robert Kirkman’s comics of the same name, first premiered a decade ago. It was quickly followed up by its spinoff cousin Fear the Walking Dead and other zombie shows like Z Nation, iZombie, and Daybreak. 

Now the latest zombie effort in The Walking Dead universe, The Walking Dead: World Beyond is set to pay homage to the zombie-watching youth, let’s call them Generation Z (that’s not taken already, right?). World Beyond is a coming-of-age tale about a group of four teenagers who must find themselves amid the zombie apocalypse. Alexa Mansour and Aliyah Royale lead the quartet as the fundamentally different but unshakably close sister duo: Hope and Iris Bennett. 

Just like their characters, Mansour and Royale have grown up with The Walking Dead universe as an unavoidable fact of life. 

“They would have ‘Freaky Friday’ nights on AMC, and I would watch all the scary movies with my dad. So when Walking Dead came out, I became obsessed and then the nightmares started and I had to stop,” Mansour says.

Hope and Iris, however, aren’t afforded the opportunity to stop watching The Walking Dead universe as they’re deep into it. Alongside Elton Ortiz (Nicolas Cantu) and Silas Plaskett (Hal Sumpston), the pair take off from their relatively safe Campus Colony home in Nebraska to travel the walker-filled country in search of their long-lost father. 

We caught up with Royale and Mansour to talk about that journey, what it means to be a part of the Walking Dead franchise, and why walkers are now called “empties.” 

A big theme of this show is experiencing the world through the eyes of young people who barely remember a world without zombies in it. With that in mind, do you guys remember a world before The Walking Dead? How old were you when the series premiered and what has your history with it been like?

Aliyah Royale: It was actually something that my two older brothers were obsessed with. That Christmas, the calendar that they got was The Walking Dead themed. They followed the show the whole way through, so to find out that their little sister is now on it has been insane. I grew up knowing that there is this incredible show with these creatures that just terrify everyone, but that actually has an incredible storyline as well. But I was always too afraid to watch it! Walkers freak me out.

Alexa Mansour: I was a little older, I think I might have been like 12 or 13 years old, and I watched it the second that it came out. They would have ‘Freaky Friday’ nights on AMC, and I would watch all the scary movies with my dad. So when Walking Dead came out, I became obsessed and then the nightmares started and I had to stop. I would look forward to seeing Walking Dead at Universal Studios Horror Nights every single year, I was obsessed with it.

Aliyah Royale: That was the one I avoided, the one maze!

What’s it feel like to be a part of this enormous franchise now?

Alexa Mansour: Crazy. It’s just like, it has such a loyal fan base. This show is so many people’s worlds. Even when we were at New York Comic Con and they’re asking us questions about stuff that we wouldn’t even know. They’d read the comics religiously and all this stuff, and they’re so loyal to this show that it’s like, man, I really don’t want to disappoint any of these people.

Aliyah Royale: Yeah, you’re definitely walking into a fan base that is already so invested, at least 10 years worth of invested, in these stories, plus what the comic books gave us. So, I remember just walking onto that stage at New York Comic Con and being overwhelmed by the love in the room and the excitement. I think there was just this hope that was like, we are starting a new story. We’re starting a new chapter with these new characters. It’s also the hope of finding what happens with Rick, what do these three rings on the helicopter mean? Our show just gives so many answers to these people and giving them that opportunity is really awesome.

You guys play sisters on the show. What was it like when you first met each other, and how do you go about building up chemistry?

Alexa Mansour: I didn’t know if she was going to be my sister. I met her at the very, very, very last audition where I had to read with all the possible Iris’s. The person I thought that booked the show was not her, and I was not excited about the person because she was being very mean at the casting. But then I get to Virginia and I see Aliyah. Aliyah calls me, she’s like, ‘hey, I’m your sister!’

Aliyah Royale: She was like, “thank God!” We both have this witty, sarcastic nature to us, this language that only we speak, especially when everybody else is involved or around us. You can just tell that the relationship is so genuine. That relationship is there onscreen and offscreen.

One thing that your showrunner, Matthew (Negrete), mentioned was that he sees that one of the big themes of the show being trauma and how people overcome it, how do you play with that a bit with your characters? How are they working to overcome their traumas?

Alexa Mansour: I think Hope definitely tries to overcome her trauma by not even thinking about it. She masks all of her inner guilt and inner shame with rebelling against everyone and everything, just constantly getting in trouble. It isn’t until later in the season and throughout the season that she actually starts to try and face it head on and forgive herself for everything that’s happened.

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The Walking Dead: World Beyond Review (Spoiler Free)

By Ron Hogan

Aliyah Royale: “The night the sky fell”, which is what we call the official moment of the apocalypse hitting, we did not know what we were doing. We were kids. We were what, like five, six? But a lot of things happened that night. Hope and Iris lost people that meant everything to them. I think from that moment, whereas Hope is like, “You know what? eff this, I’m living for me now,” Iris came out of that experience more like, “I was afraid and that night I just lived in fear. For the rest of my life, I am going to make up for that by being everything I can to whoever needs me to be.” That’s who Iris was in this college campus community that they started to live in. It isn’t until she decides to go on the road with her sister and figure out who we actually want to be, and not just who we were forced to be after that night, that we turned into some really bad-ass young adult women. Watching that journey is really incredible.

Speaking of that journey – you guys start off in Nebraska, in Omaha, and then head off on an actual physical journey across the United States. I imagine that means you worked outside a lot. What’s that like filming out in the elements? And are you ever surprised how much Virginia can resemble the rest of the country, depending on where they’re traveling?

Aliyah Royale: Virginia is a special beast. I remember it was like 107 degrees, and it’s raining, and there is lightning in the sky. I’m like, “wait a minute, since when does summer have lightning storms?” Only in the South could I have seen something like that. It was crazy, especially being in those leather jackets, they’re very heavy and keeping our weapons on us. It was insane. Virginia is different.

Alexa Mansour: We got to the point that we tried to put on cooling vests that you would have to charge and fill up. If you didn’t do it long enough, then all they did was make even hotter because they had nothing cold in them. Then having boots and stuff and you’re trying to run through dirt. You got things chasing you, and you have like 50 pounds worth of bags on you. It was crazy. Then by the time we wrapped, it was what, like 10 degrees?

Aliyah Royale: Yeah, the day would start in the hundreds and by nightfall we’d be in the twenties.

Another interesting aspect of this show is that AMC has already announced that it’s going for two seasons, 10 episodes each. What is it like working on a show that you know has an expiration date for them? How does it inform your performances?

Aliyah Royale: For me it doesn’t. I still take the character day by day, episode by episode. I’m not looking forward in terms of “I hope Iris becomes this or hope her story ends like this.” No, moment by moment I’m playing this person and I want to live as that person. All I’m here for is to enjoy the ride. Playing this character has been the opportunity of a lifetime, however long or short I get to do it. It’s a blessing regardless.

Alexa Mansour: Yeah, it’s been so incredible to be a part of a production like this. I think regardless of whether it’s two seasons, 10 seasons, one season, half the season, we’re going to give it our all and do the best that we can.

What are you most excited for people to see once this season premieres?

Aliyah Royale: I love the “empties” (zombies) on our show. They get very creative with the way that they’ve decayed. There are these empties in Boston covered in all this moss. They’ve got nature growing all over them and they’re still sitting in these seats that they were in the night the sky fell. It looks so cool, 10 years later, this is how they’ve developed. They’re still slightly slowly moving. You can see their eyes moving, but they can’t actually move because of all the nature that’s entangling them in these seats. Just the way that our special effects team went to work on these empties, it’s next level.

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Alexa Mansour: The empties were insane. I remember getting freaked out a couple of times by seeing how realistic they looked. But this show proves how tough kids can be. I’m so excited for people to see how badass this whole team of kids is because we’re so used to seeing the adults on the show.

The Walking Dead: World Beyond premieres at 10 p.m. ET, Oct. 4 on AMC.

The post The Walking Dead: World Beyond Stars Talk Growing Up With Zombies appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[strmgrl-blog]

my name’s saturn & this is my meme shop ! aaaaah no, really though bonjour angels ! for a lil introduction for myself let me just get this out of the way GIFJDKL uhhh i love aoa, day6 & sm artists ( like .. all of them Help ). a traumatized bitch who loves suffering so i project onto my muses to Cope ! GIAUDFJKL god gdfroijmkl sorry ummm i love star wars & video games ? catch me throwing an ow comp match & feeding in fortnite ! i love the moon, she’s the only thing that keeps me alive. i don’t have a mitochondria, i have lunar force. i have one (1) indoor cat who i birthed & LITERALLY 4 STRAY CATS who appeared from the mist. i run a ratchet vet service from my front porch & it’s free, i should be named human of the year honestly, truly. more on this mess of a muse, hyeon, who ( btw ) is literally my everything ? i’ve had her for quite a long time & lost motivation to write her so i’m changing some shit up to see how it goes & this is the product ! i hope you all enjoy reading this EXTREMELY long intro ( bc it will be very long im so sorry ) & befriend both myself as well as hyeon. & if you’re feelin’ a little extra, like this to plot ! i have a few ideas in mind but they’re all worth brainstorming over bc they’re SHIT. anyway, i love u all so much already ? genuinely a kind community i’m nut & WITHOUT FURTHER ADIEU, here’s hyeon ~  ♥（ﾉ´∀`）

warning ! trigger warnings ahead possibly including ꞉ child prostitution, drug abuse, child abuse, mental abuse, sexual assault, depression, suicidal thoughts + other mental illness, murder, & probably a fuckton more. read with caution, please.

⌠ BACKGROUND ⌡

so starting with her parents, where all stories begin, let’s just preface by saying these were awful people. they ran in similar circles during school, a very bad one at that, & fell in love after sharing a joint. in their high daze they saw what their mind was conjuring but not the truth about one another. but for them, it had been enough. thus, their story began. it was a very rocky road but they managed to stay together regardless. the bond they had created blossomed as they partook in illegal activities such as petty theft, vandalism, & it slowly evolved into larger problems. 

after hyeon’s mother, named jung eunbi, stole from her parents for the last time she was kicked out into the street with her boyfriend ( who had also been kicked out ) with no place to go. both dropped out of high school as it wasn’t their “””scene””” & took to the dirty streets of busan trying to turn tricks. they’d do anything they could to get some money to feed their addictions. in the midst of their scrambling for what they deemed as important, they never thought to buy protection. so one fateful night after a good steal, they made love on a dingy couch high as a kite & eunbi got pregnant.

she hid the pregnancy for as long as she could from her boyfriend, he only noticed when there was a rather apparent bump under her baggy clothing. with the weight of the realization they might have to force themselves to become a real family, the couple got hitched & attempted to find real jobs. in some miracle, they managed to find a house to live in & eventually “raise” their child in. 

hyeon was born on the 8th of june, on a dark morning with clouds hanging ove the sky & rain starting to pour. she was premature as her mother did drugs during the pregnancy ( which was really no shocker ) & almost was pronounced a still born before they heard the tiny being crying & gasping for air. her parents had assumed that once she was born, they’d feel that parental love that everyone claimed to have but it never came. they stayed in the hospital a total of two days & hardly let their newborn get the help she needed before they hauled ass out of there. 

the first 3 years of hyeon’s life were better than expected, her parents at least tried to take care of her but once she was able to do everything on her own they left her be to pursue their own happiness. honestly think of matilda but a lot more severe ok

she would often get locked in a closet while there were parties held & her parents were too strung out to remember their child. she could spend days in there before she was released. this was only the beginning.

at 8 years old, her father lost his job ( her mother stayed at home ) due to a random drug test & he of course failed. this triggered her parents to panic as they no longer could supply themselves with their so desired highs. so after a night of scheming, they came up with a plan so sinister not even the devil himself would agree.

random men & women began to arrive to their dingy home as hyeon would be ushered into quiet rooms with them where they would pay to do whatever they pleased with the young girl. this went on for 2 years before hyeon was pulled into the principals office at school with questions about where those bruises on her came from. her mom was picked up for possession & this prompted the police to raid their home to find many illegal substances throughout the place as well as evidence of abuse towards the child.

soon after her parents were placed in prison, hyeon was shipped off to seoul to the biggest orphanage in the country. there she stayed for 4 more years. the time there was quiet, nobody asked her about where she came from & she never spoke about it. in truth, she never knew how to as she was a blank mind essentially. 

luckily when she was 15, after a long & strenuous search, hyeon’s grandparents found her & adopted her into their home in daegu. they were absolutely appalled at this shell of a girl, but could only blame her trauma on their own children. it was here that hyeon was loved for the first time in her life ( & possibly the only time ) & taught how to feel something besids fear. she was still horribly inept at processing emotions or showing them.

two years spent with them & one night as hyeon & her grandfather were sat at the family piano, playing & singing a song as her grandmother recorded them in secret. that same video was sent to an entertainment company without hyeon’s knowledge but was thoroughly surprised & equally as excited when she was recruited. only a measly year in training with her 2 group members before they debuted & they were suddenly the biggest gg in sk.

the group debuted under the name of PTL, hyeon’s stagename was now Tink as she accompanied her members in the ride of a lifetime. they were extremely popular with their girl crush yet enticing vocals with miss tink as the main vocalist & maknae. even so successful as to have a world tour ! the group had their differences, hyeon being the medium for them as the other girls were rather opposing forces. often she was put in the middle of their arguing only to run away when conflict came up. during this time she would write & compose her own songs, bringing a heavy soul feeling to the group with her powerhouse vocals.

with all this being said ( which was a LOT ), there is still more. a year after debut while the group was climbing in popularity, hyeon began receiving texts from an unknown number. she soon found out that the people behind the mask were her parents, somehow having managed to be released from prison & found their new mission in life was to harass their daughter. on an october night, after an argument went down within the dorms between hyeon’s two members, the youngest set out by herself to meet those who hurt her for dinner. 

as expected, it went horribly. at this point in her life, she was extremely impressionable, & witnessed how her eonnie handled things which was with a liquor bottle in hand. so, like an idiot, she went to a club by herself to get fucked up. while sitting at the bar, a random man drugged her drink & took hyeon home with him. the night was a blur but when the young woman woke up she felt familiar bruises & a blanket of rage took over. the man was still passed out next to her.

so as she slipped out of his bed & found the nearest blunt object, hyeon managed to bash his skull in. she blacked out after that only to come to with clean hands & far away from the corpse. this was the reactant to lead her to go blind in rage & come to with blood on her hands. soon enough, she took a liking to the feeling & became two people within one while somehow managing to remain anonymous as a killer ran rampant.

earlier this year, after too much shit going on within the group, ptl disbanded & all went their own ways. which hyeon appreciated. the people she had once called her sisters had become like strangers & only cared about themselves, didn’t have the time to look after their maknae. 

to say that her already pre - existing depression & anxiety sky rocketed would be an understatement. she left music for a while, deciding to stream on twitch & youtube as a gamer. it made her happy for a short time but has been planning on returning to music with hints of a solo debut soon that has fans excited.

edit: i forgot to put this in here originally IGJFDKL but she moved to jeju after her group disbanded for a new start. plus, her address somehow got leaked so she uprooted all her shit & left for the secluded island.

⌠ OTHER TIDBITS ⌡

stands at 5′7″, 168 pounds ( considered plus size tbh. one day i’ll put picture references LMAO ), with curly, thick hair & freckles from hell. 

can speak english, japanese, chinese, & italian. has a slight british accent from who she learned english from was from the UK.

has a rottweiler puppy named chewie, a hedgehog named leia, & two cats named opal & hazel. 

voice claim is a mixture of lee haeri, kim taeyeon, park sunyoung, & ailee.

her favorite color is blue, loves the rain, & will 100% be caught standing in the middle of a storm.

is a practicing wiccan ! very much so considers herself a witch.

her favorite drink is strawberry milk, & will eat anything that has strawberries !

[anbu-legacy]

SCIENCE

@kaminoko-x: (not an ask so I can link stuff) I was rereading through character asks because I finished Hard Came the Rain (there was much fluff induced screaming) and was hungry for more ANBU Legacy things (as usual). Ended up giggling about this x. As someone who worked with kids for a part time job, I just really appreciated Ogata’s insane level of kid wrangling, she is a master and a queen and I would like to be her someday (don’t we all).

I also found this x and then went on a giant squeeing spree about world building and science in ANBU Legacy because biochem is my uni major and I’m a nerd. SCIIEEENNNCE

Like, to my knowledge and googling, sarin isn’t a naturally occurring chemical species so Konoha has to have chemical and biochemical analysis, synthesis, and purification techniques to produce it. And people to research what exactly sarin does biochemically (bc Genma’s commentary indicates they probably do know exactly how it works) and streamline production methods so it could be used enough that it’s well known among ninja/medical profession as a useful potent poison. HOW BIG IS KONOHA’S SCIENCE RESEARCH DIVISION AND WHO GETS TO BE IN IT. ARE THERE ANY CIVILIANS. ARE THERE ANY NINJA-SCIENTISTS (other than Orochimaru, but does his stuff even count as actual science if it’s not peer reviewed), IS THAT A THING

Genma’s comment about using a less potent organophosphate shows his chemical and biochemical theory is at least irl uni level- I’m like 99% sure it’s from med-nin training. But it does make me wonder if you’d have science classes available if you aren’t headed into medicine. Are there basic science classes at the Academy? How far in theory do they go? What about post-academy, are they available like officer classes? Would you have to pay for them, are there any pre-reqs? I have so many questions.

It’s not at all the first time there have been sciencey worldbuilding details in ANBU Legacy. There’s been a ton of medical details in particular, and anaesthetics and drugs and soldier pills are a thing. And that one village medic had salve from the war described as good for chemical burns in Suffering Fools and Kakashi mentions gas as part of the war in Worth the Pain, so chemical weapon development is a thing too (is that how sarin was developed?). Idk this one just particularly caught my eye and set me off ahahhaa

——

When we got this, Ki and DK both said, “This is yours to answer, Nezu.” Probably because I’m 90% the one who throws overly detailed science and medicine into our worldbuilding. And I have been sitting on answering this for approximately ever, not because I didn’t want to, but because I wanted to do it RIGHT and then pretty much paralyzed myself into inaction. But that’s no way to honor what might be my favorite ask EVER. So, @kaminoko-x and any other science nerds in our tiny fandom, here goes…

Disclaimer #1: Answers to character asks aren’t canon. It’s possible that I overstepped in choosing sarin as my example, and should have chosen a more easily synthesized neurotoxin like strychnine. 

Disclaimer #2: I’m an avid student of medicine and science, and a skilled researcher, but I’m not a medical professional and I don’t have a science degree. I made a left-hand turn partway through university and transferred from a science program to a theatre program. And then worked for many years in user experience design for computer software. But if I had both infinite lifetimes and health, I’d totally be a scientist in several different fields. And a doctor and a veterinarian. And of course, a writer.

BUT ANYWAY… Let’s get to it!

The world that Kishimoto handed us is full of contradictions that we writers do a lot of contortions to make work. They have computers, which implies plastics, semi-conductors, microchips, clean rooms, micro-machining, and a whole lot of basic chemistry and physics. They have video cameras and CCTV. And they have chakra that can cause explosions, create water dragons, and heal what ought to be life-ending traumatic chest injuries using the patient’s hair. They notably don’t have gunpowder or projectile weapons, which real Japan had in the 1500s. They go everywhere on foot because who ever heard of the wheel or horses, let alone an internal combustion engine? Except wait, don’t they have trains? And wasn’t that a motorboat they took to get to the Land of Waves in Naruto’s first big mission? Yeah, so there’s that.

So here’s OUR canon: they DO have technology and scientific research. And they do have a basic understanding of a lot of the science we have. Even if we gave them only pre-industrial-revolution tech, they’d be able to do sophisticated chemistry, and as we’ve already seen, they have much more modern tech than that.

Continuing education for ninja is for all ninja, not just ANBU and not just officers. It’s a requirement, whether it be classes in practical skills like map-reading, sword combat, cryptography, field use of poisons, first aid, etc, or academic studies like history, literature, medicine, poison synthesis, engineering, and other less obviously ninja-y skills. the more academically inclined can take classes above and beyond the requirements. And those looking to specialize, like Ryouma taking medical training, obviously have a whole series of classes tailored to those specialties.

So yes, Academy kids do get science classes, although they are probably couched in ninja terms. It’s not physics, it’s calculating the trajectory of your arrow. It’s not biochemistry, it’s synthesizing ricin from castor beans. Even if they only go as far as elementary education, they’d have to have some basic math literacy.

There also has to be an army of civilian workers who do things like keep the power plants running, dispose of the garbage, grow the crops and raise the livestock, slaughter and butcher the meat, weave and dye the fabric, etc. And an associated army of merchants and traders, bankers and investors, restaurant workers and chefs, and all the other people who make a society function. And some of those people have to have scientific and engineering knowledge, or there wouldn’t be television for Naruto to watch Captain Seaweed on.

I’ve always believed there are peer-reviewed journals and academic institutions in this world. Konoha isn’t a university town, but that doesn’t mean there are no universities in Fire Country or any of the other countries. And our ninja would have access to at least some of those journals, etc.

There are definitely chemical weapons, and probably biological ones as well, if even only the crudest, medieval forms, like throwing diseased corpses into a city’s water supply. (Human history is appalling.) And there is not gunpowder. Maybe development in that line is actively suppressed. Or maybe there’s some reason that it doesn’t work, because chakra. Either way, ninja wouldn’t want civilians getting their hands on weapons that could take down the ninja’s position of absolute military supremacy.

Ninja scientists absolutely do research and development. That’s how soldier pills came about and continue to be refined and improved. That’s how new poisons and chemical weapons come about. And you bet your sweet ass the ninja want to keep control of that research and development. Just like the military runs weapons research in our world.

Sarin, in particular, was probably too modern an example, though. I should have gone with strychnine or curare or some other neurotoxin that has been known and used for centuries. But sarin is the ultimate organophosphate poison, and I’m a giant nerd who researched organophosphate poisoning for my very first ever fic (which is embarrassingly bad to my much-improved writer eyes), and it’s a great class of poison for storytelling. Plus it’s believable in the semi-tech world of Naruto. Also I have an illness that is caused by a neuromuscular junction dysfunction, and the medication I take for it, pyridostigmine, acts a lot like a weak organophosphate poison, and would make a person without my disease quite unhappy.

Um… I feel I may have wandered into the weeds a little. The point being, yes, there is science and technology in our world. Yes, Academy students get a basic science education. Yes, there is continuing education, and there are both ninja and civilian researchers. And yes, I would love to sit down with you and talk about your many questions, Worldbuilding is my one of my favorite things, and so is science and medicine. 

But of course my REAL favorite thing is thoughtful, engaged readers who ask fantastic questions.

<3 and SCIENCE, Nezu

ps: I completely agree, Ogata is a paragon. Ki’s AMAZING at writing kids and their minders.

[x-oc-blog-x]

Inside Avas’ OCs

I got a questionnaire from mibba.com for OCs gonna do this for my favorite OCs

Jackson Canmore

Basic

1. What is your full birth name?

Jackson Michael Canmore

2. Any nicknames?

Jack

3. When were you born/how old are you?

November 2. I am 19.

4. If immortal or slow-ageing, what is your apparent age?

I’m not immortal. That’s be cool though

5. Where were you born?

London, England. I moved to the US when I was 2.

6. Who were your parents?

My mom is alive. Her name is Angel. I never knew my dad.

7. Do you have any siblings?

No

8. Where do you live now?

In the US

9. Who do you live with?

I used to live at home with mom but after oli and I finished school we moved in together.

10. Are you right or left-handed?

Right.

11. What words/phrases do you regularly use?

I like to cuss. My favorite word is ass. I don’t know why.

12. Name some habits or strange quirks you have?

Cussing is definitely a habit. I like to play with plus hair. I also like to make him blush

Appearance

13. Height: 5’ 10”

14. Weight: 130 pounds

15. Skin Tone: I’m very pale.

16. Body Shape: I’m kinda tall and skinny

17. Hair: I’m dirty blonde

18. Eyes: green.

19. Face Shape: I don’t know man. What does it look like? Tell me.

20. Everyday Dress Style:usually a white shirt with my black jean jacket. Ripped blue jeans. Converse.

21. Formal Dress Style: i don’t know. I don’t really go to formal events. But probably a casual suit? I don’t do fancy.

22. Any Jewelry? Maybe a neck here or there. I don’t really wear anything but the ring oli bought me

23. Any Scars? No

24. Tattoos? Not yet

Growing Up

25. How would you describe your childhood in general?

I was a pretty weird child actually. I ate play doh. But I was wild. I was always the tough kid. Not really. I talked tough though. And I never had attraction to girls growing up. I always knew I was gay. My mom was super supportive of that. She said she still loved me, which definitely helped make me to supportive and loving person I am. I don’t think I could have done anything without my mom.

26. What is your earliest memory?

My mom and I went out to ice cream and I saw a guy get chased by the cops. I might have been 4.

27. How much schooling have you had?

I just graduated high school.

28. Did you enjoy school?

It wasn’t bad. I wasn’t bullied. I had Oli, Misha, and Collin as friends. And they are all great.

29. Where did you learn most of your skills/abilities?

School, mom, and youtube.

30. Any role models while growing up?

The flash. My mom.

31. What did you want to be when you grew up?

I wanted to be an astronaut. I now want to just have a job from home. I do commissions for art and photography.

32. What was your favourite thing to do?

Other than being with oli? I like to draw, take pictures, and play video games. I like to watch Netflix too.

33. Were you popular?

No. But I wasn’t an outcast either

34. Who were your friends?

Misha, oli, Collin.

35. When and who was your first kiss?

My first kiss was with a boy named Liam. I was 14.

Past Influences

36. What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

Moving out with Oli

37. Who has had the most influence on you? My mom.

38. What do you consider is your greatest achievement?

Being confident. I was really insecure in middle school but I worked on my self image a lot. I’m proud of that.

39. What is your greatest regret?

Not asking oli to date me sooner

40. What is the most evil thing you have ever done?

I tripped a kid once with his lunch tray in his hand. He bullied Misha.

41. Do you have a criminal record of any kind?

No

42. When was the time you were the most frightened?

When I got on a plane when I was 14 to visit London with my mom. I hate heights.

43. The most embarrassing moment of your life so far?

I peed my pants in 1st grade. Also being afraid of the Ferris wheel.

44. If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be and why?

I want to meet my dad. Would I be different if I knew him? Why did he leave?

45. What is your best memory?

When oli and I had our first kiss. We were sitting in a tree.

46. What is your worst memory?

Definitely watching these homophobes best oli almost to death in a bookstore because we held hands.

Beliefs and Opinions

47. Are you more optimistic or pessimistic?

I’m in the middle I guess.

48. What is your greatest fear?

Heights.

49. What are your religious views?

I don’t believe in god. I’m an atheist.

50. Political views?

I know this is gonna seem like common sense but some people don’t believe the same???

Everyone is equal. Gays, straights. Girls, boys, trans, non binary, etc. I also think people with a uterus should be allowed to have abortions. Immigrants are okay to come in the country. Black lives do matter. Guns are gross. Etc.

51. Views on Sex?

I really like sex. I even one time went to a party with oli and it was a truth or dare party. Let’s just say it was not pg13. It was R.

52. In your own opinion, what is the most evil thing someone could do?

Not accept someone for something they can’t change about themself.

53. Do you believe in Soul Mates/True love?

Kind of. There are different kinds of soul mates that people don’t talk about. There are friend soul mates. Romantic soulmates. Yeah.

54. What do you base success on?

I know this is dumb but how mainstream someone is. Like. Everyone knows we sheeran. So he is successful. Sorry.

55. How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings with yourself?

I’ve always been honest with how I felt because I know that negative emotions are okay to feel.

56. How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings with others?

I tend to keep how I feel to myself because I don’t want to bother others. I can handle myself.

57. Do you have any biases or prejudices?

Yes. If you don’t respect the lgbt+ community we can’t be friends. If you honesty just can’t respect someone’s existence being different than yours such as ableism and racism and the lgbt+, we can’t get along.

58. Is there anything you would absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances?

Bungi jumping. Sky diving. Nope nope nope.

59. Why would you refuse?

WHAT IF I FALL??? ID DIE.

60. Who or what, if anything, would you die for?

I’d die for my friends. And my mom.

61. What do you feel the most passionate about?

Human rights for the oppressed.

62. What one act are you most proud of?

I went to my first pride parade with my mom at 13. I was so happy that I wasn’t alone and that I was part of something.

63. What one act are you most ashamed of?

Disrespecting my mom when I was a little shit. She is the world. I love you mom.

64. Are you a leader or follower?

Leader.

Relationships

65. In general, how do you treat people you don’t know well?

I treat everyone with respect unless they give me a reason not to.

66. How do you treat people you do know? With love :)

67. Who do you respect the most and why?

My mom. She went through so much shit growing up and she didn’t deserve that. Also Oli. I’m proud of him for surging through all the bullshit he faced getting bullied for being out at school. And he survived getting kicked out by his parents. I’m proud of them both.

68. Who are your friends?

Misha, Collin, oli, Rex, Loni, Alex

69. Who is your best friend?

Oli, Misha, Collin.

70. Ever been in love?

Yes

71. Who do you consider family?

Oli, Misha, collin, and my mom.

72. How close are you to your family?

Very

73. Who do you turn to in desperate times and why?

Oli and mom because they have been there for me through so much.

74. Who do you trust to protect you and why?

I trust that all of my friends would, but I don’t expect them to.

75. Who do you despise the most and why?

That guy who almost killed Oli at the bookstore.

76. Do you tend to argue or avoid conflict?

I argue. I don’t deal with bullshit.

77. Do you care what others think of you?

I don’t in most cases, but I’m afraid to be gay in public because of those guys hurting us again.

Sex and Intimacy

78. Do you consider yourself straight, gay, bi, trans or something else?

Gayyyyyyyy

79. Do you have a significant other?

Yes. Oli.

80. Describe them:

Sweet, loving, kind, supportive, smart, and hot as hell.

81. What is the perfect romantic date?

Dinner at home. Then maybe even sexy sexy time.

82. Best sexual partner?oli

83. Worst sexual partner? Oli has been my only consenual partner. So there isn’t really a worst unless you count my sexual assault.

84. Worst thing you’ve done to someone you love?

I broke Liams heart when we dated. I broke up with him because it didn’t feel right anymore. We both changed. It didn’t work.

Likes and Dislikes

85. What is/are your favourite hobbies/pastimes? Drawing, photography, video games, cuddling.

86. What is your most prized possession?

My ring from Oli.

87. Favourite colour?

Black

88. Favourite food?

Spaghetti

89. Favourite movie?

The fault in our stars

90. Favourite TV show?

The flash.

91. What, if anything, do you like to read?

Young adult dystopian novels

92. What style of music do you like?

Pop and emo

93. What is your idea of good entertainment?

Most media like tv. Music. Any form of expression.

94. Do you smoke?

Ew. No

95. Drink?

Absolutely not.

96. Drugs?

No.

97. Typical Friday night?

Spending the night with Oli

98. What would be the perfect gift for you?

A new camera? I don’t know.

99. Rain or Sun and why?

Rain. The sun burns my skin cause I’m so pale.

100. Day or Night and why?

Night. It’s so calm at night.

101. What makes you laugh?

Jokes. Oli. My friends.

102. What shocks/offends you?

Anyone who does not support equal rights.

103. How do you deal with stress?

I usually go to my room and listen to music.

104. Are you spontaneous, or do you feel you always need a plan?

Spontaneous.

105. Any pet peeves?

I can’t stand when people chew with their mouth open.

Occupation/Study

106. Do you have a job or are you studying? I do commissions on the internet.

107. If so, what is it/what course? Photography, drawing.

108. Do you like it? Yess.

109. If studying/not working, where does your money come from? That is my only income.

110. What is your boss/teacher(s)/agent/publisher ect like? I am my own boss and I’m pretty cool if I say so myself.

111. What are your co-workers/other students like? Nah

112. Do you get along with them? I don’t have any

113. What is something you had to learn that you hated?

DRAWING HAIR. OH MY GOD IT WAS SO HARD.

114. Do you tend to save or spend your money?

Spend

Misc.

115. Describe the routine of a normal day for you: wake up, cuddle, eat, draw, photography, hang with Oli, eat, sleep.

116. What is your greatest strength?

Being a leader and being able to handle hard situations

117. Greatest weakness?

I’m not very smart and I make dumb decisions sometimes

118. If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?

I would want to be a better support for my friends

119. Introvert or Extrovert? Extrovert

120. Organised or messy? I’m a bit of both

121. Three things you’re good at:

- drawing

- listening

- photography

122. Three things you’re bad at:

- anything heights

- writing

- math

123. Do you like yourself?

Mostly

124. What is your life goal? To be happy

125. Where do you see yourself in five years? Hopefully married to oli and a baby

126. If you could choose, how would you want to die? Quickly. I don’t want to suffer. But I want to go in a way that doesn’t hurt everyone as bad. Natural causes.

127. Three things you would do with 24 hours left to live? - marry Oli, spend time with friends and family, and write a will.

128. What is one thing you’d like to be remembered for after your death? Being badass. Just kidding. I want people to remember me for trying my best to be there for those who needed support

129. Three words to describe your personality?

Badass, confident, kind

130. Three words others use to describe your personality?

Extroverted, goofy, and strong

[noona-la-la-la]

It’s one of those get to you know you tag/tell me about yourself thingies that I never do...

I get tagged in something like this periodically and I always ignore them.  I value anonymity.  I want my blog to be about the things I write and not about me as a person.  But I also feel like I’m a giant boring stick-in-the-mud because I so rarely play along.  I don’t want to be boring.  I want to be cool and fun like @avveh​ and @ellieljade​ who both tagged me in this.  So for once, I’m going to participate.  

No complaining about how stupid my answers are!

How tall are you?

Tall.  Taller than Jimin.  Likely taller than Yoongi.   But apparently, shorter than @avveh.

What color are your eyes?

Fun fact:  I was born with brown eyes and they started changing color to hazel when I was in my teens.  Apparently this is a thing that happens to about 10-15% of caucasians.  The center 1/3 is brown but the outer 2/3 is green.

Do you wear contacts and/or glasses?

Yes.

Do you wear braces?

I had them as a kid.  

What is your fashion style?

I don’t know what you would call it.  Plain-ish? Comfortable? Flexible?

I tend to go for simple styles with interesting lines and decent fabrics.  A plain black tee-shirt but with an asymmetrical neckline.  A plain white jacket but with interesting details at the seams.  A simple sheath dress but with a zipper in a contrasting color or an unusual hemline.  Things like that.  More often than not, I’ll be wearing jeans, a plain tee or knit top, with a jacket or cardigan over it and flats in a contrasting color, plus jewelry.  I tend to invest a lot in bangles, cuffs, and necklaces.

When were you born?

In the spring!

How old are you?

Older than Jin.  Younger than Betty White.

Do you have any siblings?

Yes.

What school/college do you go to?

School is a distant memory.

What kind of student are you?

I was a pain in the ass student, probably.  Some teachers loved me and others outright hated me.  I questioned and debated everything.  I was lazy, but smart and creative enough to pull out decent grades without putting in as much effort as I should have.  In university, I tended to do better with the more difficult classes because I like being challenged intellectually, so I would work hard in those classes.  If it was an “easy” class, I often just wouldn’t bother showing up or wouldn’t bother to do my homework (not a good thing, FYI!  In real life,  you have to still do the work even when you think something is stupid.  I would have benefitted from learning that life lesson a little earlier.)

What are your favorite subjects?

I loved English and French class.  I like languages.  I like words.  I like reading and analyzing the message behind the written word.  I like figuring out exactly the best way to convey my thoughts and ideas.

What are your favorite movies?

I love old movies.  Grease, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Singing in the Rain, Pretty in Pink.  Anything from the 1930′s-1940′s, especially if it has Cary Grant or Myrna Loy -- or one of the movies they starred in together like Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer, or Mr. Blandings Builds his Dreamhouse. (I’m serious -- go watch these!)

What are your favorite pastimes?

Eating and watching YouTube videos.  Oh, and hanging out on Tumblr.

I also like traveling, but haven’t been able to do much of it lately.

Do you have any regrets?

SO MANY REGRETS!  Honestly, I have more regrets than is healthy.  And every single one of them is the result of me NOT doing something.  I regret not breaking up with the boyfriend that I knew was bad for me because I was too afraid to be alone.  I regret not confessing my feelings to a close friend before he ended up finding the woman he would eventually marry.  I regret not being more adventurous and going to more parties and pushing my boundaries further.  I regret spending too much time being afraid or trying to be “good” and not just living in the moment.

What is your dream job?

Retired billionaire.

Would you like to get married?

This question gives me anxiety.  

Do you want kids? How many?

I thought I might want them.  But it looks like this is not an option for me.  I don’t like talking about this.  Sometimes what you want and what you get are not the same thing and there’s no point in belaboring the issue.  So moving on...

How many countries have you visited?

8 that I have legitimately visited.  But if I’m allowed to count the time I took a train that passed through Belgium and the time I had a 6 hour layover in the Coppenhagen airport... then 10!

What was your scariest dream?

I dreamed I was a slave in an Egyptian or Incan (who knows - it was kind of a combo deal) palace complex.  I had to get up at dawn, when the rooster crowed, and rush out of my room to the King’s room and wake him up and escort him to a special room and then lock him inside the room for his safety.  And then I had to rush to the Queen’s quarters and wake her up and rush her to a different room and lock her inside for her safety.  And then I could run back to my own room to try to lock the door before it was too late, but as I was closing my door, someone was pushing from the other side.  I had been too slow to save myself.  Eventually, after struggling with the door, the person on the other side overpowered me and the door flew open and a man in a chicken costume came into my room while I cowered in terror.  The end.

I actually used to have a lot of recurring nightmares about trying to shut a door to protect myself or others from invaders and having someone on the other side pushing back so I couldn’t close it.

Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend/SO?

Nope. :-(

Put your phone on shuffle and, without skipping, list the first 15 songs.

1.  Dinosaur - AKMU

2.  Heartbreaker - G-Dragon

3.  Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac

4.  Nalina - Block B

5.  Try It Again - The Hives

6.  This Is How It Goes - Billy Talent

7.  Daisy - Wavves

8.  Gaeko - Rhythm is Life 될 대로 되라고 해 ( 느낌 so good)

9.  In Bloom - Nirvana

10.  You’ll Find a Way - Santigold

11.  Shadow Dancing - Andy Gibb

12.  Remember My Name - Yuna

13.  Somebody That I Used to Know - Gotye

14.  Up A Lazy River - The Mills Brothers

15.   Team - Lorde