#socal escape rooms

[exitgameoc]

[blood-injections]

I fucking love the desert I haven't been there in years but between constant danger days thoughts and falling in love with it back when I've visited family there i can just zone out and feel like im standing there im so fucking like spiritually connected to it.

[blue-disco-lights]

AU Tag Game

Loved this! Thank you for the tag @creepkinginc @energievie and @shinygalaxyperson — and hello! @thatoneao3author

rules:

use this au generator to assign you an au, this fan fiction trope generator to give you a trope/situation/sometimes another au, feel free to keep clicking until you get something that inspires you.

then try to come up with the title, plot, vibe, and details of a fic including whatever the generators gave you. you don’t actually have to write it, just put the concept into the world! this is basically just a thought experiment.

au generator gave me: 1980s AU (well isn’t this just right up my alley).

fic trope generator gave me: They’re both in a mosh pit, and one breaks the others nose. (woot! I only had to regenerate twice to make this perfect combo happen)

title: Slam Dance Romance

let's plot:

* In which our two guys are just two skater kids at a punk show at a small little club in SoCal

* Mickey practically lives at this place, goes there at least four times a week with his brothers to see all kinds of bands. It’s the way they escape their tyrant of a dad, their nightmare home life, with its endless parade of homophobic, racist pricks. It’s the only place Mickey feels at home, surrounded by the cacophony of noise, the slam dancing, or moshing, as it was becoming known as - that could take him out of his mind and into his body.

* Ian’s never been anywhere like this before. He’s focused on school and trying to get out of their town. Lip’s convinced him that this particular club, especially when this one band is playing, attracts the hottest girls. And he needs his brother there to wing man.

* When Ian enters the club, his mind is blown - he’s never seen or heard anything like this before. The energy in the room is explosive and intoxicating. At first annoyed as hell at his brother for forcing him out of his comfort zone, he’s finding himself getting lost in the music, and drawn to the crowd by the stage.

* To a black-haired whirlwind of kinetic energy in particular who seems to have completely given himself over to the music.

* Ian makes his way to the pit, and just jumps in headfirst - not knowing what the hell he’s doing. He’s totally caught off guard by the speed and velocity, and within 4 minutes, he feels his right elbow collide with flesh and that same whirlwind of a body.

* Who’s shoving him and yelling in his face - “What the FUCK man??”

* Ian steers him to the bathroom to help him clean the blood off his face, and then outside the club, where Ian offers Mickey a cigarette as a way to say sorry

* Mickey eventually forgives him when he sees how hot Ian is, and they spend the rest of the night talking and then eventually make out against a chain link fence.

* The end/the beginning

Tagging all of you creative brains! @sweetbee78 @ian-galagher @mmmichyyy @look-i-love-u @too-schoolforcool @gallawitchxx @harrowhark-a-vagrant @michellemisfit @honeyvanillin @suzy-queued @silvanshadow @lingy910y @auds-and-evens @grumble-fish @deedala @thepupperino @francesrose3 and anyone else who’d like to try!

[dreamsister81]

THE LEAP INTO LEGEND

By Holly George Warren via the Coda Collection, 2021

He was the man with a thousand voices — or so it appeared. I experienced Jeff Buckley live a few times — and that first night, in 1993, a Monday at tiny Café Sin-é across from my East Village apartment in New York, is forever seared in my brain. Not knowing anything about him beforehand, I sized him up as just another cute guy with a guitar. Nearly three decades later, it has become increasingly apparent that I have never seen — nor do I expect to see again — a vocalist so spookily gifted.

Jeff Buckley leaves behind a story that seems scripted from myth. He is the SoCal boy descended from an angel-throated folksinger (Tim Buckley) who had died of a drug overdose at 28, when Jeff was only 8. He comes of age poor, toils in obscurity as a metal-band guitarist, seemingly unaware of — or resistant to — that which percolates within him. Landing in New York in his early 20s, he uncorks a five-octave voice to rival his father’s, and writes bold, baroque rock songs — multi-tiered, Zeppelin-esque anthems and keening, sex-drenched romantic balladry. He delivers them, alongside a crazy quilt of diverse covers, with operatic skill placing him among (some would say above) Freddie Mercury and Robert Plant. The latter would become a fan, as would Bono, Bowie, Lou Reed, Chrissie Hynde and Elvis Costello. At the height of his quick fame, natural forces — i.e. the Mississippi River — take him from this world, in an incomprehensible, freak 1997 drowning in Memphis. He would leave behind one studio album, “Grace,” and join the galaxy of brilliant comets who died too young, like Nick Drake and Gram Parsons.

Back to that Monday night in ’93. My singer-songwriter husband shared the bill with a sweaty 26-year-old Jeff Buckley at our St. Mark’s “local” — an Irish tea-and-coffee place by day that served beer and wine at night to about 30 people who’d pass the hat for neighborhood troubadours. No stage, just a spot where a table was shoved aside from the brick wall. My spouse lent him his capo so Buckley could play John Cale’s version of Leonard Cohen’s not-yet-ubiquitous “Hallelujah.” In my memory, the songs preceding this ranged from Porter Wagoner’s “A Satisfied Mind” to a Duane Eddy riff to an Edith Piaf chanson (in French), delivered with both offhand skill and devil-may-care goofiness, as around a boozy campfire or in someone’s smoky living room. Then came “Hallelujah.”

The disarmingly supple voice kicked into gear, encompassing all the sexual yearning and spiritual quest of that tune. Owning it. Murmuring, crooning, unabashedly howling — sometimes all within one line. The room collectively swooned. Rather than milk the moment, as the last echoes of “Hallelujah” faded, Buckley jokily — albeit expertly — picked out the intro to “Stairway to Heaven,” stopping to chat with the audience mid-song.

This was his routine, apparently. Slay, then lower expectations. I wonder now if the intentionally amateurish aspects weren’t so much impish boy stuff, but rather Buckley discovering his superpowers in the moment, onstage. Freaked out, he’d step back from that ledge, not yet ready to fly. Maybe he knew his low-stakes obscurity — what he later called his “café days” — would be short-lived, something to be savored.

Sure enough, within months, limos lined St. Mark’s Place on Monday nights, crowds spilled out onto the sidewalk and we watched from our fire escape as Jeff Buckley was spirited away to the big leagues. It all seemed foretold.

The footage of Buckley performing two years later with bassist Mick Groøndahl, guitarist Michael Tighe and drummer Matt Johnson at Chicago’s Metro on May 13, 1995, is peak Buckley. “Grace” has been out nine months, with Buckley touring nonstop ever since. It shows in the band’s effortless mastery of its boss’ often challenging material — the whisper-to-a-scream “Mojo Pin,” the spellbinding drama of “So Real,” the delicate, pandemonium-inducing “Lilac Wine,” all tracks from his debut.

By now, Buckley is in full possession of his preternatural voice, or rather, it is in full possession of him. Falsetto here, purr there, and a wail sourced from the Sufi Qawwali devotional music he loves and champions. Buckley rarely moves far from his mic, concentrating his energy on singing and executing impressive guitar work. But by the last third of the set, fully on, he steps into abandon: an instrumental of his work-in-progress “Vancouver,” segueing into the Alex Chilton/Big Star cover, “Kanga Roo,” which finds him excitedly pogoing (like a kangaroo?); a full-throttle version of the MC5 gangbuster “Kick Out the Jams,” on which he’s joined at the mic by a stage-diving guitar tech. Unlike most rock artists, he ends the show not with the typical rave-up, but rather sends his band away and leaves the crowd agog with a solo “Hallelujah.”

Between songs throughout the set, he resembles that guy I first saw in ’93, joking, listening to requests, vulnerable, smiling at the ardor beyond the stage lights. He gracefully handles the enthusiastic yelling and passionate outcry from the packed house, only once telling an obnoxious guy to fuck off (which gets a big laugh). But whereas at Sin-é, Buckley made holding back a riveting thing to watch, at Metro, he fulfills the promise he’d shown. He steps to the edge, and he flies.

Jeff Buckley “Live in Chicago” Setlist

Dream Brother

Lover, You Should’ve Come Over

Mojo Pin

So Real

Last Goodbye

Eternal Life

Kick Out the Jams (MC5 cover)

Lilac Wine (James Shelton cover)

What Will You Say

Grace

Vancouver

Kanga Roo (Big Star cover)

Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen cover)

[thedaveandkimmershow]

April 7 We came home "yesterday"

Yesterday was Going Home Day. 

Flight out of LAX at 520pm, our day's back-timed to my alarm going off at quarter to seven.

A.M.

Which makes the day the most like being at home.

We're on a schedule now. ☹️

Coffee for Kimmer, of course, is first on the To-Do list. As is breakfast for Cookie, Kimmer's cousin's Chihuahua.

As the morning unfolds, coffee is had, fancy tea is had, Father Mike's podcast (from Ascension press) is listened to, reading writing researching studying and writing is indulged and/or engaged, and laundry is finished.

We're keeping an eye on the day's travel schedule. The plan is to drive to LAX first to drop off our gear and luggage that, combined, accounts for the most awkward weight we're pushing and carrying. After checking those bags and scoring boarding passes, we'll jump back in the van and drive to the gas station nearest the Escape Campervan location in Inglewood, about a couple miles in a straight line from the airport. Once the van's checked back in, we'll Lyft it or Uber it back to the airport, heading right for a TSA checkpoint.

Given that the estimated time to get from Irvine to LAX is an hour to an hour-twenty, we shoot for 1pm as our departure time from our temporary SoCal home.

So that's our plan.

Around 11:30 we switch into lunch, shower, and packing mode. We've actually been munching all morning in order to make food and drink disappear that we'd otherwise have to pack.

Our official lunch is the french onion soup 'n salad kit we scored at Trader Joe's the other night on our way out of Crystal Cove.

After that, I'm thinking about packing while Kimmer's thinking about not making her cousin regret that he ever let us into his home.

So.

We unload then reload then run the dishwasher. We take out all the trash. We picked up a replacement package of tp the day before. Kimmer ran her cousin's camp laundry through the washer/dryer then I folded the towels, we folded the fitted bed sheet, and she folded the rest. Finally, she returned her nephew's room (the one we commandeer each time we visit) to better than we found it condition.

And... we left some food and drink in the fridge.

While Kimmer's working her magic upstairs, I pull the van in front of the garage and pull everything in it... out of it, placing it all on the floor at the front of the open garage.

Whoops.

BIG mistake.

You see, having packed our gear bags and setting the contents of those bags in specific storage spaces inside the van from front to back, Kimmer's process (which I swear I did not know) is simply to reverse her process when we first arrived. Even when the unloading of gear happened six days ago, she knows where each item goes back into which gear bags based on where each one is in the van. 

Like I said...

Whoops.

So.

Since I placed everything on the garage floor in a very, very loose collection, she couldn't reverse what she'd done. She had to basically start from scratch.

Which she did like a BOSS.

Took her a half hour, the weight of our two gear bags coming in at 38 and 44 pounds.

By the time we pull out of the driveway, it's 130. A half-hour passed what we planned, our schedule is now out of our hands. We will do each thing we already laid out step by step...

And see what happens.

Now, we had figured between an hour to an hour-twenty of travel time between Irvine and LAX. We wound up taking an hour-ten, listening to the Joely Fisher audiobook the whole way.

So. We beat the longest travel estimate for getting from Irvine to LAX by ten minutes.

Sweet. 😊

Here's where we lose the ten minutes we just picked up:

We're within a mile of the airport when I kill Google Maps, opting instead to follow the signage as we approached the airport.

So far so good.

I actually see the sign three times declaring the way to the Southwest terminal parking garage. So I pull into the garage, P1, and find a spot almost immediately. I actually pull up next to/behind the spot, blocking it with my flashers on so we can pull the big bags out the side of the van with plenty of elbow room then I settle the van into its new found parking spot.

Like that we're wheeling our gear bags and clothes bags to the elevator. Only, it seems like ticketing's straight across from us. So we try the next elevator over thinking it might actually be a crosswalk taking us across.

No luck.

I do see an enclosed sky bridge one floor up so we take the elevator only to discover the sky bridge is for employees only. It's at this point we realize that we've seen no mention of "Departures" on any sign on any wall anywhere. "Arrivals" yes. "Departures" no. Which is when we start entertaining the idea that there may be no way to get from here to there and really start thinking we need to move to another parking garage.

Walking back to the elevator we first encountered one floor down, we realize we can take the elevator to street level, "Arrivals" street level, "Baggage Claim" street level where we can walk the cross-walk to the terminal entrance and, once inside, we can catch an escalator, stairs, or an elevator to ticketing. Which is what we do.

The elevator, by the way, is how we rolled. And three o'clock is when we reached check-in.

Three-fifteen we're in the van again on our way out the garage to our next stop: the gas station nearest the Escape Campervan location in Inglewood. We fill up the tank with a little over a hundred bucks of regular gasoline for just under three hundred miles of travel that used up a half tank of gas across a week of use.

By the way, gas prices down here are a buck more per gallon than they are at home.

Just sayin'. 🤨

Three-thirty's when we're pulling into the Escape Campervan lot that closes at four. Minutes later I'm unloading our carry-ons from the van when the attendant asks me

Is this yours?

It's a parking pass. The one Kimmer's cousin loaned us for on-property parking while he was away and we were basically living in his home.

It also happens to be the parking pass we were supposed to leave on the kitchen counter before we left for the airport.

🤬🤬🤬

Yeah.

That was not good.

We'll have to next-day it as soon as we're home.

Hopefully the fact that we left his place in good shape will cause him to curse our names just a leetle bit less than he would otherwise indulge.

Hopefully.

Fingers crossed the pass makes it back to his home before he does. 

Quarter to four is when our Uber driver picks us up. Wonderful human being, by the way. A native of Costa Rica, his mother moved the family to L.A. where she studied when she was younger. We thought it was cool, the part about Costa Rica. 

It is, he says, as long as you like rain and humidity.

Oh.

Still sounds cool, though. 

He has a couple kids, a boy and a girl, twelve and fifteen, so we talk kids the rest of the way. Four on the nose is when he drops us at the Southwest terminal. 

Not bad but still a little behind our plan, the idea being to hit the front door an hour before boarding.

That would be 450, fifty minutes from now. Like I said, not bad... but also not great.

What is great, though, is that since our bags are already checked we're heading straight for the TSA checkpoint that, as it turns out, has no line.

Okay there's one person in front of us. My point is... we sail straight through except for they need to run my rucksack twice because, basically, it's pretty cluttered in there. 🤔🤨

We reach our gate twenty minutes after we hit the front door, twenty minutes prior to boarding.

We actually have time to sit. ☺️

Our plane lifts off at quarter past five, landing in San Jose forty-five minutes later.

Checking our flight information, I see our connection's two gates down and doesn't board until 755.

Once inside the terminal, we discover our flight's delayed a half hour so we figure that's a sign we should sit down for dinner at a place we just passed by.

At the entrance is a sign that reads Please wait to be seated so we wait right next to that sign where we can see the place is getting slammed and there are only two people waiting on everyone whether they're at the bar or at a table.

Finally, we catch a table, figure out what we want to eat (glazed brussel sprouts) then turn our attention to what we want to drink.

Only.

There are no drinks listed on the menu so we ask for a drink menu only there isn't one. We ask if there's a drink menu online.

Nope.

The waiter says Just tell me what you want. I'll tell you how much it is.

Ooooo.

That doesn't sound right.

So Kimmer goes back to the entrance where a menu's posted and takes a photo of the drink section. When she gets back to the table, we decide on a pair of Angry Orchards and let the waiter know.

That's nine dollars each.

Whoops.

The sign outside says $8.49. Not a big deal but it does contribute to a vibe like maybe we wanna go someplace else. Especially when we point out the discrepancy and then we're asked if we'd like to speak to the manager.

Oh for God's sake.

So we just deal with it having ordered the two ciders and the glazed brussel sprouts.

Sitting at the table, it's obvious the two wait staff personnel are absolutely maxed out by the number of people who've converged for dinner. Later it's obvious: two people are quite sufficient most of the time. But sometimes they just.

Get.

Slammed.

And I'm sure the price discrepancy between what's posted outside and what's stored in the register is well above the pay grade of wait staff to remedy.

Later, our waiter stops by and asks if we'd like some fries. 

I tell him no.

Then he tells me they're on the house.

So I tell him yes. We'd looooove some. 😁

Kimmer makes it a point to acknowledge how wait staff was being slammed, moving fast as possible in order to serve everyone. Doing a great job given the circumstances.

Thank you. Thank you.

Eventually it's time to go so it's time to pay. With that in mind, we leave a 33% cash tip for our waiter before wishing each other heartfelt fare-thee-wells.

In retrospect, it striking how much of a bad mood we were indulging from the jump. I'm just glad we were all able to recover and pivot.

We all ended well with each other. ☺️

In other news, by the time we got up from our dinner, our flight delay was extended to 45 minutes. So we made a beeline for the open room where they have all the comfy chairs and couches and desk space and electrical outlets. Just what the doctor ordered for a pair of readers and writers, one of whom immediately pulls out a Trader Joe's bar of dark chocolate that she actually shares with the class. 😁

By the time our plane leaves the ground, it's somewhere between quarter of and ten.

One thing I wanna mention about the flight is that we'd claimed the two-seat emergency row and, when it came time for the stewardess to explain our responsibilities, she did so standing in the aisle next to the seat in front of me, her right hand resting on the headrest of that seat.

Kimmer notices how the stewardess is wearing a beautiful silver ring. It's wide with fine engravings. Kimmer mentions to the stewardess how beautiful she finds the ring.

Later, the stewardess returns to tell Kimmer she bought the ring during a trip she took with her mom to Dublin, Ireland.

Every shopkeeper there was trying to sell her the ubiquitous Claddah ring...

...but she held firm to wanting something different. After a week of searching, she finally struck gold or, in this case, silver.

It's called a Warrior Ring and it.

Is.

Beautiful.

Definitely not one of those souvenirs positively everyone returns home with. 

Which definitely has a certain appeal. I won't lie.

😊

By the time we pulled into gate at SeaTac, there's about fifteen minutes left in the day. We're running an hour-fifteen late at this point but hey.

We're back in our hometown.

Unfortunately, we'regonna be stuck at the airport another half hour or so because four planes landed around the same time and the bags from each is being fed into the baggage conveyor system one flight at a time. So that's us basically waiting for each flight's luggage to move through the system. 🤨🤔🤬

Soon as we've got our bags, though, we are outta there, up an escalator (no easy feat with all our gear in tow), across a sky bridge, down another escalator (a variation on no easy feat), across the street to Island 1 where I call for a Doug Fox pickup.

Five minutes later, ten minutes later, one shows up down the way and, as we get closer, it fills up. Completely full. Behind it, though, is a second shuttle. A family that was turned away from the first shuttle gets there first. I see the writing on the wall so I ask the driver to hail us a third shuttle.

"How many of you are there?" the driver asks.

"Just two. But we've got a lot of gear" I say, pointing behind me.

"Are you okay with standing for a couple minutes?"

I turn back to Kimmer, repeating the question.

She nods. Grudgingly.

"Yes" I tell the driver.

Kimmer grabs her bags and heads for the shuttle door. Behind me I hear some talking and then I hear Kimmer thank someone profusely.

When eventually I return with gear bags in tow, I discover a dad and son have given up their seats for us.

Holy smokes.

That was super sweet and definitely took the grudge out of her. 😊

Between that and the genuine friendliness of the shuttle driver, we recovered well from any sourness we felt over the delays and inconveniences. It was the second time this night we recovered from a negative spin.

Thankfully.

As the driver said, it was a quick trip to the lot. A couple carloads of travelers, anxious to get home, were off the shuttle with their belongings lightning fast so we were back at our van that fast as well.

By the time we rolled out of the lot, it's quarter to one.

Fifteen minutes until 1AM.

The ride home goes smoothly. No trouble staying awake, that is, and by 'n by (ten minutes until 2AM) we roll into our driveway.

Home.

At last.

Yet still a small surprise awaits.

Okay so when we lived on Capitol Hill, we had a young gentleman take care of our apartment and our cats. During one of his cat-sitting turns for us, he discovered we owned a Light Bright set. So he placed the light pegs to spell out

WELCOME HOME.

It was really very sweet when we walked through the door. More sweet than I would've guessed.

So now we're walking up the drive to see he's found the Christmas lights we strung around our living room's picture window. The Christmas lights I've basically yet to take down. He's found them and turned them on, a lovely, cheerful Welcome Home, frankly, in the middle of the night.

Again. The experience was more sweet than I would've guessed.

It really is lovely to have the tiniest bit of fanfare when we come home from our travels.

And we really really appreciate this one.

☺️

It may have been last year or the year before at the end of one of our travels that I first broached the idea that the end of a vacation, any vacation, can happen before you get home. I think at the time I wrote that we were at a restaurant at John Wayne Airport. A wine bar. Sipping samples as the sun set beyond the far edge of the airfield.

That was the universe stamping The End on that particular trip.

And this one?

When did this one end?

I've gotta say that leaving Kimmer's cousin's place in the campervan merely signaled a continuation of our adventure as we crossed paths this evening and night with the people at Escape Campervan in Inglewood, with the woman who helped us with our bags at Southwest ticketing desk at LAX (not that easy, my friends), with the waiter at that restaurant in San Jose Airport, with that stewardess on our last leg home who told a story about a warrior ring, with the people at baggage claim with whom we valiantly waited in the wee-est hour of the morning, with fellow travelers and a kind driver on a fully packed shuttle bus, with a young man whose job was done at our home who lit up a string of lights at the front of our house to finally welcome us home.

Yeah.

That's where our travels ended this time.

Right there when we got home.

🤔🤨🙂

PS - Interestingly, we got to bed around 3AM, an oddball coincidence with the early morning hour we'd woken up seven mornings before as we prepared to leave for the airport from our overnight hotel near the airport.

3AM.

I hope it's a while before we see that hour again.

🤨

[solemntitty]

the saga of me leaving alarms tiredly/tipsily for sober me:

- release the listening device (put the Google home back in the living room of the rental I was in)

- go to brunch cuntily (11:30am brunch with family that I sad yes to while inebriated)

- have fun (6am alarm) (still not sure what I meant by this)

- ESCAPE (3am alarm) (had to flee socal for reasons)

[beyondtheplenty]

Ezekiel 28:12-13 - The quest for fulfilment. In the middle of the sea, the world and the universe lies a place that only those who believe can access. In a noetic network, the information that is in the network and the information that is shared by the minds perceiving the network are seen as a collective and continuous conscious- ness.1 Beyond doubt you cannot assume that it is the highest possible intelligence; for to do so you would have to see that a greater intelligence than that of which you perceive any evidence in the world is inconceivable, which means attributing omniscience to yourself. In the same way you infer from the greatness of the world a very great might on the part of its author.2 The simpleton man, who was only one Scheherazade among so many others, was driven by his quest of desire of being more, following a Faustian matter. The harpies rage against these sea migrants and their infortune, but this quest seems to be the only one that escapes the human condition. They are desperately seeking for the lands of Ceres. The real difference between men and God, if He exists, must be that He created the world of things and the diversity of humankind by omnipotence and omniscience, whereas we, for the moment, create children whose bodies and spirits are unpredictable, in an unpredictable world.3

Revelation 21:3 - The Pact with God. As the migrants of hope landed on the shores of the socalled land of fulfilment, Gods showed them how to transform these arching harpies into birds and the tumult of the waves that preceded them into the melodies of Te Deum. That which cannot contain the happy life cannot contain that which produces the happy life; and the happy life is produced by Goods alone.4 The mist spread all around them like the omnipotent tumult of thousands of voices; they learned to accept their myopia as well as to cure it. Life, that is, expressivity, is carried into the absolute.5 Thus the oracles join the community of Gods that populates the Mediterranean Olympus.

Genesis 11:6 – The Collective.

At the symposium banquet it is allegories that drink: comedy, tragedy, medicine. They speak allegorically. This never becomes clear until one has attended an invited banquet where each chair represents an institution, where each guest is there to represent politics, science, banking, the media or public administration the powers of the moment.The dinner mimics that of the gods the individuals present believing that the mere loss of their individuation makes them gods. The hostess could have invited robots who would have said what they were programmed to say, at the push of a button: what an administrator or journalist says can never surprise us, they are celebrating their power. For a long time I believed that the loss of individuation was due to the wine circulating around the room and becoming a collective subject by taking on the individuality of each person as it did the rounds; and that the wine became us, objectively conveying the sum of the I’s entrusted to it by each subject, lost, in an ecstatic trance; but the loss occurs differently, for each person enters like a statue. Allegory, a block of marble carved into a representation, speaks.6

Revelation 21:2 – City of God.

Thus, even though the use of space for this specific action by unauthorized individuals might have been illegal, it became acceptable and unnoticeable because it was disguised as a dominant type of action that was legitimate in the collective consciousness.7 This island, an image of the Olympus of yesteryear, promised the cerbertus, who softened their faces by becoming Ushnishavijaya, the plenitude. A garden of oppressive freedom where the oracle can absolve himself of his condition as an earthly thinker.

Leviticus 19:18 - Beyond the Plentiness.

Here is the shadow and the light, suffering and omniscience. The third person of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit, takes the form of a bird, a dove, sometimes the appearance of a tongue of fire.8 Divine omniscience does not extend to itself.9 A journey to discover other faces through the iris of Eden, those of others and our own. To discover the truth.10 And there is plenty of it left even for posterity to discover.11 Love, humanity and the dissolution of ignorance opened the way to divine consciousness. At the center of the star is hidden the third place, formerly called a soul, experienced by passing through a channel that is difficult to cross.12 The heart; the blood; the vital spirit.13 Above the tumultuous clouds, they marvelled at the warmth and benevolence of the fullness that enabled them to don the capes of the princes of Serendip and reach the gates of the nebulous Sunyata.

Even then, the brief memory that comes afterwards and is the opposite of forgetting, but the ‘absolute memory’ which doubles the present and the outside and is one with forget- ting, since it is itself endlessly forgotten and reconstituted: its fold, in fact, merges with the unfolding, because the lat- ter remains present within the former as the thing that is folded.14 Beyond Brahman, they embarked together on the quest for the Atman.

[shutupmisha]

An Escape Room Blog

Hey everyone! So me and a few friends have recently grown addicted to escape rooms, so we have created a blog @losangelesescapees to rate and review the rooms we visit in the Los Angeles area. If you love escape rooms, hate them, or are just curious about the experience, please give us a follow! There are no current posts at but that will change very soon as we have done over 20 rooms now and have some catching up to do!

Give us a follow @losangelesescapees !!!! 💕💀💕

[myherowritings]

so in love

— “I’m so in love with them, I don’t know what to do.” Requested by @apollochjld​. 

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x reader word count: 1.8k genre: fluff, timeskip iwa in socal

a/n: wow writing this made me wanna be in love; someone make me fall in love with them pls,, jkjk...unless FHDJKFD kidding,, i hope u enjoy reading!! [p.s. i was listening to “i love you 3000 ii” while writing if you wanna match the vibes hehe] xx sof

「 hq masterlist 」

Iwaizumi had been in love approximately once before.

It was in high school when he dated a girl who made his heart race and face flush. She was quiet and dependable, cheerful and kind. Although it didn’t last after he left for university in the States, he enjoyed the relationship while it lasted. It was sweet, it was comfortable. It was what he needed at the time.

But what he felt then paled in comparison when he thought of you. If she made his heart race, you made it soar. 

Iwaizumi found himself thinking about you at the most random times of day—wondering what you were doing, wishing he could be doing those things with you… Whenever his phone buzzed, he would hope it was a message from you. And he’d be embarrassingly disappointed if it wasn’t. 

Since the two of you started dating, you had taken over most of his mind. Things he once thought of as ridiculously mundane now reminded him of you. (How could fuzzy blankets and Christmas lights even conjure up the image of one specific person? He wasn’t sure. But when he saw them, he smiled while thinking of you cuddling him during the colder seasons.)

He had never felt this strongly about someone and it almost scared him how deep his feelings ran.

A mixture of anxiousness and excitement filled his stomach at the realization and he decided to call his best friend for advice. Though Oikawa could be an ass, he was one of the two only people Iwaizumi felt comfortable enough to confide in about everything (the other person being you, but he couldn’t exactly go to you to ask for advice about you). 

“Oi, Shittykawa, you asleep already?”

There was a mocking sigh on the other side of the line. “Iwa-chan,” he chided, “haven’t you learned by now that’s not the proper way to greet someone?” 

He grunted.

“Fine then,” Oikawa pouted. “To answer your question, no, I’m not asleep yet. Did you need something?” 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi was silent for a while, thinking of how to phrase his feelings. “I… Y/N…” 

“What about Y/N?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Let me guess— You finally acknowledged you’re madly in love with them and you need help coping with the fact you’ve realized your emotional range is now bigger than a baby carrot?” 

Iwaizumi blinked. How—? 

Apparently his pause was enough for Oikawa to figure out he was right. “Holy shit. I actually got it?” He cheered and Iwaizumi could picture him dancing around the room smugly. “That’s great, Iwa-chan!”

He chuckled at his friend’s enthusiasm, Oikawa’s reaction surprisingly helping soothe his nerves. Maybe it wasn’t abnormal to have these feelings? But then again, Oikawa didn’t know just how intense these feelings were. 

“Is it weird?” Iwaizumi found himself asking. “It feels weird. It’s like… I’m so in love with them, I don’t know what to do.” 

That was the first time he had ever told himself he was in love with you out loud. Hearing it with his own two ears made his stomach clench and his palms get clammy. When he pictured his future in five years, he couldn’t imagine one where you weren’t there. He wanted to see your smile, hear your laugh, be there for you when you cried. He just wanted you. And he hoped you wanted him too.

“Did you just realize that?”

“Yeah. Just earlier.”

“Hmm. And have you told them yet?” 

He shook his head. “No.” 

“Then why are you still on call with me?!” Oikawa chided. “You should be driving to Y/N and getting ready to tell them how much you love them like a gushy fool in love.” 

Iwaizumi winced at Oikawa’s blunt wording. The thought was weird. The thought was uncomfortable. He’d never been a guy who was particularly in touch with his emotions. He could rarely admit his feelings to himself— And it was even more uncommon to share those feelings with someone else. That required vulnerability and trust. 

It was terrifying. 

But for you, it was worth it. 

“Go get your beauty sleep now, Assykawa,” he said, grabbing his keys and getting ready to hang up. He shrugged on a sweater and headed out the door, heart almost bursting from nerves.

“Not that I need it,” Oikawa huffed haughtily, and Iwaizumi could just picture him flipping his hair to the side. “But I will. You go tell Y/N how you feel now.”

“I will.” He started his car. “And Oikawa…?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.” 

Oikawa laughed dismissively. “Don’t mention it, Iwa-chan. It’s my duty to help ugly, hopeless losers who somehow managed to make someone beautiful and kind-hearted love them back.”

“Fuck you too, Trashykawa.” 

And with that, Iwaizumi ended the call with an amused eye roll. He gripped his steering wheel in determination as he let out a deep sigh, driving over to your apartment. In hindsight, maybe he should’ve given you a text before showing up unannounced, but in this moment, his thoughts were so occupied, being rational didn’t end up crossing his mind. It wasn’t uncommon for you to surprise him with an impromptu visit and he would always welcome it, but randomly dropping by with no plan had never been his style. 

He hoped it wouldn’t bother you.

Iwaizumi was so lost in his worries, he almost didn’t notice he was already parked in front of your complex and walking towards your door in minutes’ time. Slowly, he found his knuckles rapping on your door before his brain could rethink his decision and drive back home.

The front door cracked open and he heard a cute little surprised noise escape your lips.

“Hajime?” you said curiously, though your eyes lit up as you invited him in. “Did I miss a text from you? I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.” 

He scratched the back of his neck, face suddenly heating up in embarrassment. A heads up would have been the courteous thing to do. What if you were busy? Or what if you didn’t want to see him at the moment? The second thought made his stomach drop.

“Not that I mind though!” you quickly amended, smoothing out the furrow between his brows with your thumb and placing a soft kiss on the lips. Iwaizumi smiled into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into a hug as his worries melted away. “My day always gets better when I see you.”

His fingers ran down your spine and planted his lips on the top of your head before pulling away. Smiling, you led him to the couch where you leaned into his touch. 

“Did you have something you needed? Or did you just want to hang?” 

“I just wanted to see you.”

You smiled, a shy look suddenly befalling your face as you drew circles atop Iwaizumi’s thigh. “Yeah? I was actually just thinking of you when you showed up. I thought I might’ve been daydreaming, but I guess it was just a wish come true.”

He let out a short chuckle at your sentimental words, the blush on his cheeks betraying his true pleasure at hearing them. “I can never think of anything to wish for when you’re around. It feels like I already have everything I could want when I’m with you.” 

The repetitive, gentle movements of your finger on his thigh halted as your eyes widened. “Really?” 

His first instinct was to take back what he said and distance himself. A nagging part of him told him that he said too much and shouldn’t have been so forward. But Iwaizumi swallowed his insecurities and the discomfort he felt from being vulnerable and nodded. 

“Yeah.” His voice was gruff. “Really.”

Taking note of the serious tone he spoke in, you straightened up on the sofa, angling your body so you could see his expression directly. 

“I know we’ve only been together for a few months, but I just...had to tell you that I’m in love with you. And it feels so strange to say,” he admitted, cheeks blazing red. He couldn’t even manage to bring his gaze directly to your eyes or he knew he’d grow too embarrassed to continue on without stumbling. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and, at this point, I don’t know if I’d ever feel this way about anyone else. And this in no way means you have to say you feel the same already. I just thought I should let you know how much you mean to me.”

When he finally met your eyes, he saw they were filled with unshed tears, making your irises look like they were shining. You looked up at him with such an endearing look on you, as if Iwaizumi promised he hung up all the stars in the galaxy by hand just for you. 

“I love you so much— No, I’m very much in love with you too, Hajime,” you responded, sounding overjoyed as you threw your arms around him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck while he planted a kiss on your temple. “I’m so relieved you said something now because if you hadn’t, I might’ve just blurted it out one random day.”

He snorted, teasing. “Like I did just now, you mean?”

“Well, yes, but probably not as eloquently,” you laughed. “You know, I never understood movies or shows that talked about true love or finding someone you’d actually want to spend your life with. That concept seemed so foreign to me, or like it was something so far out of reach… Until I met you.”

Spend your life with? His heart soared out of his chest at your words. He felt like he could touch the sky if he tried. 

“And it sounds so cheesy to say that!” you whined, burying your head in your hands. Iwaizumi chuckled at how cute you were as you peered through your fingers. “But though it’s cheesy, it really is the truth.” 

He hummed. “Sometimes cheesy is good.”

“Mhm.” You nodded in agreement. “I guess loving someone enough to want to be this cheesy with them is something special in itself. Because I could never imagine having moments like this with someone other than you.” 

“I couldn’t imagine this—being here, feeling this way—with anyone else either.” Iwaizumi laced his fingers through yours, stroking your thumb so softly, it was light enough to leave a ticklish tingle. “And I wouldn’t want to.” 

“Then I guess we have no choice but to make more of these cheesy memories together.” 

Iwaizumi leaned in to place his lips on yours, the both of you smiling into the chaste kiss. Even the smallest touches could light a spark within him that he never wanted to die out. 

Making memories didn’t seem so hard. Especially when they were with you. “I think we can manage that just fine.” 

[exitgameoc]

Escape Room experiences make unique fun gifts for all ages!!! This group celebrated her 50th birthday at Exit Game OC in Anaheim California.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Quarantine Moments (5)

This is my two favorite things in one: space stuff and making these pining idiots feel things, so it ended up being way longer than I intended. Oops. Enjoy some meteor shower shenanigans. :) 

*****

It’ll be fun, they promise. 

We don’t need a tent, they say.  We’ll sleep in the bed of the truck, they say. We’ll all fit, they say. 

It’ll be fun, they promise again. 

Riley knows better than to take “It’ll be fun” at face value. Especially when it comes out of Mac’s mouth. 

Five months into quarantine, when Riley’s favorite space nerds ask if she wants to drive out to the desert to watch a meteor shower, she agrees immediately. It’s a quick out and back trip. The plan is to have an early dinner, drive out to the desert for the night, and leave early in the morning before the August sun cooks them alive. Riley balks at their plan to sleep in the truck instead of a tent—sleeping in a truck bed always hurts, no matter how many blankets and pillows there are—but the boys’ excitement is infectious, and Riley can’t bring herself to say no. 

They argue about where in the desert to go. Mac wants to drive all the way to Death Valley, but Riley and Bozer shoot it down immediately. A four hour car ride is too far for an overnight trip. Then Bozer suggests Joshua Tree, but Mac claims it’s too popular. (Like there will be flocks of tourists there during a pandemic, but whatever.) So Riley forces them to compromise on Anza Borrego. It’s farther than J Tree, but not nearly as far as Death Valley, and they can pick up breakfast burritos in San Diego on their way home. 

Mac and Bozer never object to breakfast burritos. 

The boys do all the planning and preparation, so when Mac tosses Riley the keys to the truck, she’s almost surprised. “You’re driving,” he says. “Bozer’s in the back.” 

“Man, why am I always in the back?” Bozer complains. 

“Because Riley is a better driver than you.” Content to let them bicker, Riley smirks and starts the engine. 

“No,” Bozer corrects from the middle seat, “Riley is a faster driver. Not better.” 

At the same time, Riley and Mac both say, “Same thing.” 

“Unbelievable.” 

The drive goes much faster with Riley behind the wheel, although she refrains from rubbing it in. The sky shifts from lavender to deep blue to inky black as they drive away from the setting sun. 

It always amazes Riley that they can be so close to SoCal’s endless suburban sprawl, and yet be in the absolute middle of nowhere.

The moon is barely more than a sliver in the sky, and when they drop down into the desert, the vast darkness swallows the headlight beams. Riley rolls her window down, feeling the dry, balmy air caress her cheeks and neck. 

She figured someone else would have the same idea as them, but there isn’t another human soul as far as Riley can see. Even farther, most likely. 

When Riley gets out of the truck, the first thing she does is look up. The sky isn’t black at all, but rather a deep indigo alight with more stars than she could count in a thousand lifetimes. The Milky Way arcs overhead, and Riley’s eyes track it from one end of the horizon to another. It makes her feel small. 

It’s comforting, Riley thinks, to be reminded of her insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe, a welcome break from the constant world-ending consequences of her daily life. 

The trio get to work making their bed for the night. Mac’s two-person camping mattress goes down first, then the pillows and blankets. They didn’t even bother to bring sleeping bags since the nighttime temperature would only dip into the mid-seventies. 

Riley finds a tumbleweed near the front of the truck to pee behind before joining Mac and Bozer in the back. They’re lying on opposite sides of the truck bed, leaving as much space as possible for her in the middle. Realizing how close she’ll be to Mac, Riley takes a deep, steadying breath, grateful that it’s too dark for the boys to see her face. She should’ve begged Bozer to take the middle when she had the chance. 

Cursing herself for wearing booty shorts and a tank top, Riley tries not to notice how her bare skin brushes Mac’s as she squeezes into her spot. She blushes anyway. There is definitely not room for three people. They should’ve just brought the damn tent. 

She misses the days when she could be in Mac’s personal space without every nerve in her body being acutely aware of how close he is. Everything was so much easier then. 

Covering herself in one of the thinner blankets—more for comfort and security than anything else—Riley sinks into the pillows and looks up. She knows the Perseids originate from the constellation Perseus, but there are so many stars that she gets lost trying to orient herself in the sky. As she opens her mouth to ask for help, a bright silver light zips across the horizon, gone in less than a second. 

“Did you see that?” Bozer squeals. 

Riley laughs softly. “Yeah, but I have no idea where it came from, or where I should be looking.” 

It’s Bozer’s turn to laugh. “For starters, don’t look straight up. Look near the horizon.” He points toward a random spot in the distance, his hand a dark shadow covering the glittering sea beyond. “As Perseus gets higher in the sky during the night, the meteors will appear to come from higher up too.” 

Riley nods before realizing he’s not paying attention. “Thanks.” 

As she studies the heavens, the sense of ease settles over her once again. Riley feels her body start to let go of the stress she’s been holding onto for months—the awkwardness of living with Mac, the endless pile of work stuff she has no motivation to do, worrying about her mom and Bozer’s parents, waking up every morning to increasingly batshit news headlines. Out here, she can escape, if only for a few hours. 

Riley catches three meteors in quick succession, each darting across the sky in a completely different direction. Mac hasn’t said a word since they laid down, so when Bozer gets up to pee, Riley nudges him with her knee and says, “You’ve been quiet.” 

Mac doesn’t look at her as he speaks, his gaze locked on something straight overhead. “Ancient Chinese astronomers believed Vega and Altair were lovers, forever kept apart by the Milky Way.” He points. “Vega is one of the brightest stars in the sky. It’s in the constellation Lyra. And over there is Altair, which is part of Aquila, the eagle.” 

Riley hesitates, trying to separate fact from innuendo. A pit forms in her stomach as she understands why he’s drawn to these stars in particular. 

Mac must mistake her silence for being unable to find the stars, because suddenly his arms are around her and he’s pulling her toward him so her head rests on his shoulder. 

His touch feels like stars dancing on her skin. 

Mac’s bicep grazes her cheek as he points again, and Riley has no trouble following the line of his arm to a particularly bright star nearly straight up. That must be Vega, the bright one. The other blends into the Milky Way too well for Riley to pick it out. Her voice catches as she half-lies, “I see it.” His arm drops, but instead of letting her go, Mac’s hand rests on her ribcage. 

Riley nearly stops breathing as her heart pounds loud enough that she’s sure Mac can hear it. She doesn’t know what to do. This is uncharted territory, him holding her like this. They’re in each other’s personal space all the time, but they’re never handsy. Riley has never been a very touchy person, and she knows Mac isn’t either. 

So this...Riley doesn’t know what to make of this. 

“Show me something else,” she manages. Mac takes a shaky breath beneath her. 

He points in a different direction. “Over there are Sagittarius, which looks like a teapot, and Scorpius, which looks like a hook or the letter ‘J.’” Riley finds the constellations easily. “Between them is the supermassive black hole that exists in the middle of the galaxy. All of the matter in the Milky Way orbits around it.” 

Riley smiles. Mac and his black holes. 

Bozer is taking an awfully long time to pee, and Riley starts to think there might be an ulterior motive to his disappearance. She hollers, “You good, man?” 

“Yeah! Got a little performance anxiety from this creepy bug staring at me.” 

Riley and Mac burst out laughing. Tears sneak out of Riley’s eyes as she holds her stomach, giggling until her lungs ache. Just when she starts to get it together, Riley makes the mistake of looking up at Mac, and they both crack up all over again. 

If Riley could stay in this moment forever, she would. Laughing with Mac feels like stepping into a patch of sunlight on a chilly day. 

Mac is still looking at her when they finally recover. Not in Bozer’s direction, not up at the stars, but at her. Riley bites her lip. She could do it right now. Tell him how she feels. 

But a bigger part of her knows that it’s not the right time, no matter how much she wants it to be, no matter how many small moments give her hope that she’s not alone in her feelings. Relationships with a messy beginning never last. Right now, they’re not meant to be, but Riley lets herself hope that maybe, just maybe, in the future, they will be. 

Until then, she’ll do whatever it takes to protect her heart. Starting with loving him quietly, and never expecting anything other than platonic love in return. Just having him in her life is enough. 

Bozer climbs back into the truck, and Riley moves to extricate herself from Mac. His arm tightens around her at first, but when Riley pulls away again, Mac lets her go. She doesn’t think about what it might mean if she stayed. 

The three of them lay together for hours, just looking up at the stars, until Bozer yawns. Riley can’t help but follow suit. 

“Mac,” Bozer says. “Did you set the alarm?” 

“Yeah. My phone is right here.” Mac pats a pillow above Riley’s head. 

She can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Alarm?” 

Mac explains, “The meteor shower’s peak is between three and four am. So unless you’d rather stay up all night...” He trails off. 

Riley groans. Of course. 

She pulls up a second blanket and rolls onto her side, facing Bozer. Safely tucked between her boys, Riley drifts off almost immediately. 

~

Riley wakes before the alarm goes off, struggling to breathe. It feels like someone’s sitting on her chest. 

When she opens her eyes, Riley realizes it’s two someones. 

She’s lying on her back. Between Mac’s arm thrown over her shoulders and Bozer using her chest as a pillow, their combined weight is uncomfortably heavy. They probably got cold and rolled toward her in their sleep. The thought makes her smile. Riley rolls onto her side to dislodge Bozer and ends up flush against Mac’s chest. His warm breath tickles the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. 

Shit. She should’ve included not torturing herself in her resolution to love him quietly. 

Riley tries to move again, but it’s futile. She’s stuck. As if to further prove her point, Mac’s arm slides down her body and wraps around her waist, pulling Riley closer like she’s his favorite teddy bear. The gesture makes her melt. Bozer reaches out then, sleepily trying to find his missing pillow, and his hand settles on Riley’s forearm. If Jack could see them now, he’d kill Mac and Bozer without a second thought, but Riley likes being wrapped up in her boys, likes feeling warm and wanted and protected. 

She’s still smiling when she falls back asleep. 

~

The alarm blares in her ear, and Riley can’t do anything about it. Her arms are trapped. She groans. “Turn it off.” 

A weight lifts from her side, and then an arm bumps her face as someone mercifully turns the alarm off, followed by a mumbled “Sorry.” Riley isn’t awake enough to recognize the rough, sleepy voice. It sounds nice though, she thinks. She wouldn’t mind hearing it again. 

The weight returns, and the same voice says, “I hit snooze. You have five minutes.” 

It’s Mac, she realizes with a jolt. Bozer would never be so merciful. 

Now she really wants to hear that voice again. 

Mac strokes her shoulder, coaxing Riley into consciousness, and damn him, it works. Her eyes flutter open. It’s still dark out, and Bozer faces them, his head resting beside Riley’s chest, the comma to her and Mac’s quotation marks. 

“Riles, move. I have to pee.” Swallowing her disappointment, Riley uses her feet to push Bozer back to his side, taking back her space. 

“I’m awake,” he slurs. 

Riley feels Mac’s chest rumble as he chuckles. “Sure you are.” He gets up, and Riley immediately mourns the loss of contact. 

He’s back by the time the alarm goes off again, and this time Riley turns it off herself before sitting up to stretch, her joints popping softly. The stars look completely different now. Riley still doesn’t know how to find Perseus, or even what the constellation looks like, but it doesn’t matter. The meteors are more frequent now, nearly two a minute. Most are quick, bright flashes, but a few are slower, gracefully crossing the sky before burning up. 

Someone—Bozer—kicks her in the back. “Riley stop blocking the view.” Rolling her eyes, she lays back down. 

She’s exhausted, and her body hurts, but it’s all worth it when a massive, glowing meteor arcs across the sky in slow motion, lingering for a few seconds before winking out of existence. “Wow,” Riley whispers. 

Mac and Bozer promised her fun, and sure enough, they deliver.

Riley hovers in that sweet spot between sleep and being awake until the sky lightens and the first rays of sunlight stretch across the desert. The air seems to hum, the way it always does in announcement of the scorching summer sun. Riley and the boys pack up in record time, and Mac blasts the air conditioner even though it’s barely six am. 

Leaning into the pile of pillows occupying most of the backseat, Riley orders, “Wake me up when you have my burrito. Goodnight.” 

She dreams of shooting stars and the warm embrace of a certain blonde nerd. 

[crossroadsescapegames]

The six little words every woman wants to hear...Make sure to book your escape room with us soon, we sell out almost every weekend! www.CrossRoadsEscapeGames.com

[aj521z]

EVERY SINGLE QUESTION! ANSWER THEM NOW K PLZ TKS

(I HATE YOU MA’AM)

1. What is you middle name? - Crackhead

2. How old are you? - apprx 8

3. When is your birthday? - April 7 

4. What is your zodiac sign? - Dumb bitchasaurus 

5. What is your favorite color? - Blue. Like turquoise/aqua 

6. What’s your lucky number? - I have no luck Im gay

7. Do you have any pets? - 2 beautiful fucking dogs that the loml and I die for them immediately and kill everyone to defend them. Also a cat who is a wack boy 

8. Where are you from? - SoCal 

9. How tall are you? - 5′7 

10. What shoe size are you? - 10-11 (lol big feets)

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? - probably like 10 and they’re all converse 

12. What was your last dream about? - sleep paralysis shadow demon(:

13. What talents do you have? - falling for girls who leave me 

14. Are you psychic in any way? - No im an oblivious fucking fool

15. Favorite song? - I have 69420 (two that have a VERY special place in my heart though in memory of my little brother are “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd (his fave song) and “Since I’ve Been Loving You” Led Zeppelin <3 

16. Favorite movie? - oooooofff The Lion King is fave disney. Star wars and LOTR are some of my faves

17. Who would be your ideal partner? - Christen Press (only requirement must love dogs)

18. Do you want children? - Pending, but yes dog children

19. Do you want a church wedding? - LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

20. Are you religious? - yes @tobinheats-me-up​ and I have our own religion, bless JVN

21. Have you ever been to the hospital? - YES YIKE im an injury mess

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? - I got chased by the popo but escaped HAHAHAHHA

23. Have you ever met any celebrities? - Lindsey Horan and CP hello ma’ams

24. Baths or showers? - Showers I dont have time move im gay

25. What color socks are you wearing? - none hahaha

26. Have you ever been famous? - Im famous for being a stupid ass clown

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? - fuck no ( @frankarnstein said “no not even a smol” and im dead)

28. What type of music do you like? - mmmm mostly everything but especially rock (indie, classic, industrial, punk, grunge, folk, all of it)

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? - yes 💀

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? - one to two

31. What position do you usually sleep in? - back or side I toss and turn bc I have anxiety lol

32. How big is your house? - I live here so infinite abyss

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? - usually fruit and eggs

34. Have you ever fired a gun? - yes once at a shooting range

35. Have you ever tried archery? - yes! my aunt actually competes and she taught me hahahha 

36. Favorite clean word? - gay and yikes

37. Favorite swear word? - fuck

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? - 78 hours i hallucinated 

39. Do you have any scars? - too many hahaha physically and emotionally 

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? - soranon (only OGs will remember hahahaha)

41. Are you a good liar? - Depends, but usually no hahahah

42. Are you a good judge of character? - I thought I was but I dont know anymore tbh. Ppl are unpredictable

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? - Yes ask @hvafaenerdette​ I love accents ahahahah

44. Do you have a strong accent? - I’ve been told by internationals that i have a strong american accent but idk ahahaha

45. What is your favorite accent? - Tobin Heath skater girl

46. What is your personality type? - Dumb bitch 

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? - idk like shoes?

48. Can you curl your tongue? - 😏 please

49. Are you an innie or an outie? - why is this a question wtf ahahhaha  

50. Left or right handed? - Right hand, Left foot

51. Are you scared of spiders? - No. Unless they fly down from my fan while I’m trying to play guitar and I’m very drunk and feel attacked

52. Favorite food? - All of it

53. Favorite foreign food? - Everything 

54. Are you a clean or messy person? - depends on my mental state((((((((:

55. Most used phrased? - for fucks sake and dumb bitch probably 

56. Most used word? - clown

57. How long does it take for you to get ready? - 5-10 minutes 

58. Do you have much of an ego? - No, I’m a clown I know my place 

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? - suck I aint tryin to break my teeth lol

60. Do you talk to yourself? - bitch pls ahahahah ofc 

61. Do you sing to yourself? - Yes hahahha

62. Are you a good singer? - Maybe? hahaha

63. Biggest Fear? - Jill Ellis 

64. Are you a gossip? - Nope. I am bearer of all secrets hahahah

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? - Tournament of Nations 2017 USA vs. Brazil

66. Do you like long or short hair? - long on me but I dont care on other people

67. Can you name all 50 states of America? - I cant geography, but think I could get most ahahaha

68. Favorite school subject? - bio

69. Extrovert or Introvert? - Depends who I’m with, but usually introvert unless I fuck w you ahhahaha

70. Have you ever been scuba diving? - Snorkling yes, but not scuba diving

71. What makes you nervous? - WHAT DOESNT LOL

72. Are you scared of the dark? - No 

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? - only if it’s serious 

74. Are you ticklish? - Not really hahaha

75. Have you ever started a rumor? - No 

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? - Yesssss

77. Have you ever drank underage? - Lol do you know me

78. Have you ever done drugs? - 🥦 💨 @tobinheats-me-up

79. Who was your first real crush? - Gwen Stefani I think? ahhahah I love No Doubt

80. How many piercings do you have? - 0

81. Can you roll your Rs? - yes ma’am

82. How fast can you type? - very fast 

83. How fast can you run? - I cant, but I can walk very fast, move bitch im gay

84. What color is your hair? - light brown

85. What color is your eyes? - depends on lighting either blue or green

86. What are you allergic to? - homophobia 

87. Do you keep a journal? - I write songs instead hahaha

88. What do your parents do? - judge my “lifestyle” 

89. Do you like your age? - yes hahahah

90. What makes you angry? - men

91. Do you like your own name? - yes it’s v gay

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? - Christen and Tobin 

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? - ive been laughing at this for a minute a “a boy a girl” 

94. What are you strengths? - being gay

95. What are your weaknesses? - girls

96. How did you get your name? - my parents gave it to me? hahahaha

97. Were your ancestors royalty? - cereally 

98. Do you have any scars? - This hasnt changed but again yes both physically and emotionally (:

99. Color of your bedspread? - blue with anchors bc it’s 

100. Color of your room? - tan and one dark blue wall

[captainchrisfics]

My Writing Masterlist

About: A collection of some Chris Evans and Steve Rogers fics I’ve been working on for a while now, descending from oldest to newest trying to show something resembling progress. 

Last Updated: October 5, 2019

Total Works: 32

Chris Evans

Faster Than You Can Fall Asleep - Chris and the reader Skype while he’s away filming since they miss each other so much, but little does she know she won’t be missing him for long.

Not in Front of the Children - Chris and the (first person pov) reader spend the morning with their lovely little family.

“Just wait.”- A short and sweet little first person pov something about Chris returning home from wrapping filming on Endgame.

Before the Oscars - There’s a fight in this fic- a pretty big, blowout argument right before what is only one of the largest, most important awards shows in cinematic history. Don’t worry (spoiler alert) my sappy heart wins over.

Hanging Around - Mornings spent watching John Mulaney on Netflix and afternoons making out on the couch are always fun, right?

Jealousy - Chris Evans and a first person pov reader go to an awards show. The couple runs into her celebrity crush on the red carpet, causing Chris to develop a bit of a green-eyed monster.

The Leader of the Pack - Inspired by Leader of the Pack by the Shangri-Las, in which 1950′s greaser!Chris gets the hots for the local good girl and it’s all downhill from there.

Too Tired - Chris and the reader have a door-slamming, voice-raising, tear-filled kind of fight which ends with sleeping in separate rooms. Well, trying to until he realizes he can’t sleep without her.

La Vie En Rose - Chris and a (first person pov) reader reminiscing about everything that led them to the middle of the dance floor surrounded by their loved ones at their wedding as they sway to their first dance.

A Weekend Away -  Chris comes home to the (first person pov) reader who had a really rough day and suggests a long weekend away might do them some good.

“I’m yours.” - Chris’s (first person pov) girlfriend insists on coming to set when he films a pretty fervid scene from Gifted’s sequel with his ex, which leads to more than a little bit of jealousy, a fight, and (unsurprisingly) a makeup makeout.

At the Altar - Chris’s friend asks him to be the best man at his wedding, which is great…until he realizes he’d rather be the one meeting Ella at the end of the aisle.

Endgame Interviews and Special News - Chris Evans and the (first person pov) reader are married and going through a round of press interviews, although the plot of Endgame isn’t the only thing they’re worried about spoiling.

“I told you so.” - Chris has a thing for saying he told you so, specifically to the first person pov narrator he has a thing for, too. Between their close friendship, working together, and other relationships all standing in the way, pining after each other without realizing becomes commonplace. Full of angst, fluff, and some sexier scenes, but I wouldn’t call it nsfw personally. 

Oh, Baby - After finding out she’s pregnant with Chris Evans’s baby less than a year into their relationship, the first person pov narrator looks for comfort and advice from their fellow MCU cast members. Unbeknownst to her, Chris notices she’s shut him out and decides to confront her at the same time that she plans on letting him in.

Gaps Between Us - Chris Evans and a first person pov narrator have an age gap, sparking a controversy in the public eye, some tension among the MCU cast, and quite a bit of trouble in paradise. Thankfully, RDJ is always there to save the day.

Slipped - On a press run for Defending Jacob, Chris’s mind drifts to every other thing he’d rather be doing than answering questions, causing him to subconsciously reveal his relationship status which sparks a slew of probing questions and potential problems for the newly public couple

Out of Fenway Park - A SoCal born-and-raised reader relocated to Boston, where the very last thing she expects is to run into Chris Evans at a Red Sox game with beer dripping down her head and his hotdog plastered to her shirt. Literally, running into him, and then somehow still getting a date out of it.

Positive - Quite unexpectedly, Chris Evans finds out he’s going to be a father after a first-person pov narrator confesses she’s pregnant. They haven’t been dating for long, but they’ve known each other forever. The only problem is, the baby might not be his. 

Paps Meet Politics - While working on A Starting Point, Chris takes a liking to a particular Congresswoman. Amidst speculation that he’s dating his co-star, she tries not to think too much of it when he asks her to be his plus one to a gala, but a probing reporter clears the air in the end.

Good Stuff - Chris Evans comes home to find our narrator still buried in bed and dealing with a bout of anxiety. He offers love, support, and coping skills to boot in this short and sweet fic.

Why Not? - Loosely inspired by Taylor Swift’s “Wildest Dreams,” in which Chris Evans and the first-person pov narrator try to escape L.A. in search of some ocean air, planning to spend the night snuggling up on a secluded beach somewhere.

Seahawks vs. Patriots - A first-person pov, Seahawks-supporting reader couldn’t just not show up when Chris Evans throws a Super Bowl party, even if it meant flying across the country to see her second family.

‘Always’ - Chris Evans and his girlfriend break up so he comes crawling back to his friend’s door, only they’re a little more. 

Sweet as Strawberries - First-person pov narrator and her husband, Chris Evans, go berry picking with their daughter and chat about having another. Probably the sweetest, sappiest thing I’ve ever written.

Call It Even - First-person pov narrator is one of those doctors that consults on medical shows/movies for the sake of accuracy but it happens to be a project starring the one and only Chris Evans. After a little sexist slip up, he spends the fic trying to make it up to her.

Steve Rogers

Stuck in Siberia - As a new Avenger, there are a lot of things our protagonist has to learn. Mostly, how to avoid getting herself and Steve kidnapped and held hostage in Siberia. 

“Home.” - First-person pov narrator accompanies *cough* third wheels *cough* Wanda and Vision to Scotland- just as the fight for the mind stone begins in IW, allowing Cap to save the day.

The Book - A first person pov narrator released a book about S.H.I.E.L.D. that struck a chord with Steve so he tries to confront the author, but ultimately she ends up comforting him instead.

Welcome Home - Steve is sent away on a solo mission, leaving his girlfriend aka our first person pov narrator alone and longing for him. His deep laugh that rumbled like thunder. Those eyes that somehow house the ocean and the stars. His touch… Some help breaking in her new mattress couldn’t hurt.

Nightmares to New Normals - After half of the universe returns following Thanos’s defeat, Steve Rogers and a first person pov narrator struggle to find their sense of normalcy again. Five years apart, her nightmares, his hero complex, and their lack of communication create quite the angst. But that always makes the happy endings better, right?

We Have Today - After he’s gunned down on a mission, a first-person pov narrator tries to take care of her super soldier boyfriend. Of course, being Captain America helps with the whole not dying thing, but Steve could never get away that easily without a good reprimanding. And I could never end a fic without a good kiss.

[exydays]

2020/2021 Season Lineup

The Tasmanian Devils are...

Samael De Armas - Captain - Striker With nearly eleven years of experience to his name, it wasn't a lack of choice that drove Sam to Sandmore.   While his reasons for during down his top three - USC among them - are his own, his arrival has earned him one notable achievement: captaincy his Freshman year.  Sam has a fondness for classic horror and all things occult.  He's a Socal native; something that's almost immediately apparent in his mannerisms.  His flashy and slightly aggressive style on court makes him one to watch.

Koko Virtanen - Vice Captain - Backliner

Koko is a junior at Sandmore and playing as backliner for the Devils. Although he can be intimidating, under his prickly exterior, he is sweet, loyal and caring. He divides his time between his studies in forensic sciences, exy and his passion for food. He might be pretending to be responsible but he is easily roped into various bad ideas by his best friends Adri and Sam, and the latest addition to their group, Nick. Born and raised in Finland, his favorite season is winter, and he will not hesitate to curse somebody out in Finnish if he feels like it.

Adrian Tailor - Backliner

As the younger brother of a world class striker, Adrian knew Exy was never going to be his path to follow, but being a backliner on the team his brother once captained was the only chance he got to escape from past mistakes. Now free of everything he left behind, he’s slowly figuring out who he really is and finding out maybe a normal life isn’t that bad after all.

Nick Raegan - Backliner

Exy has been in Nicks sight lines from a young age. The only thing he really wants out of life and determined earn his place on a pro team. He has a penchance for being stubborn, charming and too hot for his own good. Patience and loyalty are his strongest skills but don't try him if your not putting in 100% on court. You'll find him watching tv shows, early morning runs, driving around and training.

Willow Summers -

Backliner

Willow started her career in Exy at the tender age of eight when her parents decided that a sport would relieve some excess energy. She instantly fell in love with the game and used it as a way to relieve stress. Eleven years later, Willow was given the opportunity to continue to play with the Sandmore Tasmanian Devil’s. Willow joined the team originally as a Striker. However, switched to Backliner upon recommendation from her Captain Sam De Armas. A position she rather prefers.

Gabriel Seol -  Defensive Dealer

An army brat and world traveler, Gabriel Seol never decided to choose Sandmore. While his endless energy makes him a fantastic dealer and striker, his inability to fully dedicate himself holds him back. On the heels of tragedy, he's uprooted his entire life to join Sandmore's team. The only thing he's better at than compartmentalizing is getting dates.

Sydney Oakley - Offensive Dealer

Sydney “Syd” Oakley is the type of girl that takes no nonsense. Determined and focused, her goal is to excel as a dealer and to push her team. She is very strong and is always willing to show it. She loves archery and also likes the color grey.

Victoria Beaumont -  Offensive Dealer

Born in Bordeaux, France, Victoria ‘Vic’ Beaumont is known for one thing; determination. Her mantra is be better. And that’s her goal, her reason for transferring to Sandmore. Often single minded in her determination to be a better person, she’s not one to make friends easily. On the court, the 20-year-old offensive dealer is more likely to slam her stick into your face than anything else. But, off the court, when she’s not in her room working on her cyber security degree, she’s off drinking with the few friends she’s made or practicing for the next game. Her need to be a better person, to push herself to be the best that she can be could be considered an obsession, but lately, she’s been looking for that balance of fun and self-improvement. If it even exists. Either way, she’ll still be better than she was the day before. No matter what.

Colby Briggs - Striker

Colby Briggs, a freshman at Sandmore,  plays as the Devils Striker. The Australian teen moved over to America to play, getting away from his mother and older brothers but sadly leaving his best friend and YouTube partner, Sam, behind. He has a YouTube channel with Sammy on exploring abandoned buildings and places. He also has his own YouTube channel where he does cover songs, and a few of his own, also doing art sometimes on it. Colby  still hasn’t told any of his YouTube fans why he is in America, he’s kinda hoping that someone figures it out one day.

Ludwig Webber - Goalkeeper  

Ludwig is a freshman who is repeating his first year through moving from a college from Germany to Sandmore. In his childhood Ludwig used to play soccer with his brothers before he discovered Exy. Ludwig always has been a goalkeeper. He loves to study, read novels and has a weakness for sweets.

Dawn Miller - Goalkeeper

Dawn became a goalie because she loved that feeling of blocking someones goal. The moment when the opponent thinks they’ll get that winning point. The excitement of it all, the proud look on her teammates faces when they win the game. That’s what makes the goalie the best position. Sandmore Colorado seemed like the perfect place for Dawn. She wanted to get as far away for Oregon as she could. The fear of leaving her brother’s comfort scared her. How could he go through with it. So she compromised, somewhere in the middle. 

There wasn’t anything really special about the school or the team. It was just a nice place for her to be a safe distance for home. The pink haired girl will miss the little things Oregon had to offer. The soft sting of the ocean spray. The faint taste of salt on her lips after a day on the beach. The welcoming warmth of the woods on a summer day. This allows her to find the new little treasure the work has to offer. 

Catalina Guerrera-  Goalkeeper

Catalina is goalkeeper who never thought she was gonna be a goalkeeper. Being forced to play as a child may have seemed like tourture before, but she hopes it'll be her ticket to helping her family. With nothing brothers who seem to not care about actually doing something productive, she often fears that she's the only one who might be able to make something more of her family. 

Previous lineup: 2018 - 2019 | 2019 - 2020

[morphogenetic]

HEY GENUINE QUESTION DO ANY SOCAL/SANFRAN PEOPLE WANNA DO AN ESCAPE ROOM THAT UCHIKOSHI WROTE THE SCENARIO FOR DURING THE LAST WEEKEND IN SEPTEMBER