#stop repossession of my house

[finance-south-africa]

How to Keep Your Home: Real Steps to Stop Repossession

Steps to Stop Repossession

Nobody ever wants to imagine losing their home, but for some, it can become a scary possibility. The idea of repossession can feel like the ground shifting under your feet. But don’t lose hope—there are ways to fight back and protect your house. This guide lays out practical steps you can take to potentially stop the repossession process and find some much-needed breathing room.

What Does Repossession Mean?

In simple terms, repossession happens when a homeowner falls behind on their mortgage, and the lender takes back the property. It’s a step-by-step process that starts with missed payments, followed by warning letters, and eventually ends in a legal move to sell your house to recover the debt. If you’re facing this situation, knowing these steps can help you act before things spiral out of control.

For a deeper dive into what repossession looks like in South Africa, take a look at our article on how foreclosure works.

What You Can Do Right Now

Reach Out to Your Lender This isn’t the time to hide from your lender—reach out as soon as you sense trouble. Let them know what’s going on, be honest about your circumstances, and ask if there’s any way to reduce your payments or stretch out the loan period. Most lenders would rather negotiate than deal with the costly and lengthy process of repossession.

Look at Repayment Options Once you’ve opened up communication, discuss repayment options. Some lenders might agree to reduce your payments for a few months or modify your loan to make it more manageable. Want more insights? Read our piece on managing debt effectively for some solid advice.

Bottom Line

Dealing with repossession is no fun, but there’s a way through it. The key is to act quickly, communicate clearly, and be open to different solutions. And remember, Real Estate Assist is here to guide you through the maze and help you hold onto what’s yours.

Real Estate Assist specializes in stopping repossession in South Africa

[yaminerua]

It’s sinking in miserably that the home I want to return to I’ll probably never get to set foot in again.

[popfizzles]

Does anyone else have a bad ending or is it just the Sins?

Well if you're asking if others have "soulless forms", it's just the sins. <:) But the dynamics it creates between the sins and their old friends/family sends ripples through everyone else's stories, creating "bad endings" for them too.

Here's a few that I've been rotating in my head these past few days;

Mac and Greed. Mac listens to Greed talk, and it makes him realize he deserves a whole lot more in life, after everything he's been through. The trouble is, Mac doesn't really know when to stop taking, and it lands him in some hot water.

Mojito and Envy. Mojito choked down so many hurt feelings regarding Red Solo for so long. Jax didn't deserve him like he did. Envy convinces Mojito to just take what should have been his in the first place, no matter the consequences.

Smith and Sloth. Smith works his ass off all week and never let's himself put his guard down. Sloth gets him to slow down for once. It's nice at first. But Smith ultimately starts napping through his life falling apart without him there to hold everything up.

Elder Kettle, Greed, and Envy. The Devil wants his two best repossession men to go all the way to Isle One and "do a welfare check on an old friend of his". The old man in the empty house insists that he owes nothing, and that the two should leave before things get complicated. But Greed and Envy know better. Everyone on Inkwell owes some kind of debt.

Yarrow and Sloth. King Dice's personal tailor provides costuming and uniforms for all the casino workers, including the sins. But for some reason, he seems to take longer during Sloth's fittings, and dote on her with a sad look on his features. Sloth doesn't mind. The man seems kind of like a workaholic, anyway.

[captainpondlilly]

Okay! The Gilear plush has arrived. This is my best attempt at all of his lines. Two have been unintelligible to me, and several are pretty long and fast which made it hard to follow.

My search history is.. hospitals near me, foot stuck in object, head stuck in object

You're low, he's low, It's Gilear's day baby!*

A guy on the street kicked me in the nuts as hard he could

I don't like "lunchlad"

Help me to understand what I have done to deserve this

My horoscope says "today is a good day to die motherfucker"

I ate a quick cup of yogurt on the way over here to bolster my spirits after I changed, I'm ever so sorry

What do you mean "When" life gives you lemons

I went to apply for the guidance counselor position but I was usurped by a drug dealing werewolf named Jawbone

In my haste to put the armor on I buckled the leg plate and think I clipped the tip of my penis against one of the leg plates and Everytime I move it feels like it might fall off so I ASSURE you demon I have no pride to speak of!

In highschool I was voted "Most Likely To Get Pushed Out Of A Tree"

My car was repossessed by the ride share app that I was working for

It's actually a good thing that no one came to my birthday party because the bounce house flooded and was swept out to sea

I just discovered that *all* of my emails have been going to everyone's spam

Unfortunately I have been banned from that hot air balloon service not because of anything that happened to me in particular but the guys who run it just sort of know my whole deal

Mmm this yogurt tastes like *potatoes*

I asked the woman at Home Depot why my plants kept dying and she said it seemed like they were reaching away from the sun

I've found out recently that one of my shoes is so filled with mildew because a pipe in my bedroom is leaking and I've developed a fungal infection in my foot which I didn't know was possible for elves to get

I don't think that I've ever "Peaked" in that we started neutral and have been going downhill ever since

I am currently trapped in a storm drain. The bottom half of me is above the ground, the other is below

Another Own Goal for Gilear Faeth, yes

Everyone knows you eat 7 spiders in your sleep every year, but I have a bunch coming into me the backway

My sandcastle I'm afraid was destroyed, as I was about to finish it, the tide came in and with it a man holding a bazooka who shot me and killed me

I know you're not going to believe this but Ive just been kicked by a snake

I found out the hard way that people can legally reject status as an emergency contact

The title of my autobiography is going to be Gilear Faeth: Please Stop

On my way here I was carrying a large bowl of Italian wedding soup which shattered on the ground in front of me and several of the small pasta balls rolled through the cracks and alerted vermin to my presence. I've since learned after a trip to the hospital I am deathly allergic to the sting of millipedes which is a way of me saying I need someone to come down to the hospital and pay for this. There is a doctor holding a gun to my head and now that I think about it this clinic is in the back of a storage unit and I think have gone to the wrong place

he said and I quote "he'd stomp my goon ass" if I ever got on his bus again

Gorthalax it was very nice to meet you, you've made a cuckold of me

We're the throw up boys!*

I've been informed that the brownies I consumed were laced with cannabis and rat poison

I am completely unprepared for the perils ahead and am deeply frightened, I'll go get the coffee

A gorilla monster punched me so hard in the back of the head I died

Today I have been hit by 3 scooters

Everytime you squeeze my hand it breaks several small bones

My imaginary friend as a child ghosted me because he said I was too depressing

Do you want me to go back? I warn you, it will break me

Can I interest you in an herbal soda? You must understand I am an intern at a ponzi scheme*

When I go to sleep at night I dream of a world where I might be able to walk through a field without stepping on a rake or gopher hole

If anyone needs me... I will be surprised.

If it wasn't for bad luck, Id have no luck is both true and what was written upon the billboard I crashed through

I wonder if any of these will feature in Junior year 👀

*Thanks to @cappa-cappa for telling me the lines I wasn't able to make out!!

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 9: ~

When the Walls Crumbled:

This is it. The long awaited Murine/Muirinnes chapter.

Fun fact: This is my first ever romance piece I've done for any fan-fiction. So, I have no idea if this is good or not.

Another fact: I had already completed this chapter before chapters 7 and 8. This was going to be chapter 7, but I had to map out a timeline when I decided this was going to be a mini-arc, and not a time-jump to post-rescue. Plus, during that time, I decided not to have military involvement. What I have instead you'll soon see.

Tw: Parental abuse and gambling.

Part 10:

Innes couldn't sleep. He found himself staring at the container ceiling. Drool ran down the chin, which only momentarily snapped him out of his daydream. Then right back to it. He tried, but no amount of tossing or turning was helping. Even when he was leaned against Muir, he found no comfort. A quick check from his watch showed it was 2:15am.

'Maybe some fresh air will help?' He asked himself.

With a quick glance at Muir, seeing him sleeping peacefully, Innes carefully moved from his side and made it for the door. He'll go outside, sit at the railing, and have a smoke to himself. Or he would do that if a tendril didn't wrap around his waist. Of course, Muir was secretly awake the entire time. Sneaky little shit. Innes accepted defeat with a deflated sigh and turned to see Muir lift him up and place him in front of his face.

'I thought you were asleep.'

Muir ignored the empty statement.

'Innes, what's wrong?' Because he could sense something. His heartbeat wasn't normal, and he felt it sink at the question. Then there were his eyes. For hours, Innes has had a hurt look in them. Even when he cheered for Brodie and Finlay, and when gorged on the leftovers, the look was still there. Plus, even if they've been practically inseparable, Innes couldn't bring himself to look Muir in his. Even now, Innes was clearly looking through him. 'It's okay. You know it'll be okay.'

Words filled and drowned Innes' mind.

'Stupid boy. You deserve this. How can you look at yourself? Stop being a fucking idiot!'

The words Innes would hear from his father and he'd repeat them as self-punishment.

'Don't cry. You're not a man if you cry!'

He wanted to, but a part of him was always afraid to. He feared his father would find out, even over a hundred miles away and being 6 feet under. That man left a mark that was hard to scrub off. No luck. Even Innes had a breaking point. Tears began to fall, and Muir began to wipe them away.

'Why aren't you mad at me?' A lump formed in his throat, and his heart began to race. 'I left you alone. I just ran whilst you turned into,' he gestured to Muir's exposed ribs. 'This. I'm your supervisor. I'm supposed to look out for you. You said that yourself!' He paused to catch his breath, but to no avail. 'I'm so sorry, Muir.'

The guilt had been eating away at him. Since he heard Muir calling out for him in distress. Even if no one could blame him, Innes' heart felt heavy, and he wanted to be sick. In his mind, because of him, Muir will never be human again. His body blew open and turned inside out with ribs exposed and flesh crawling along the hard-hat, which was possibly the reason it didn't spread further. He lost his hair, his mouth was stretched on one side, and most of his lips had melted away, half-blind despite having multiple eyes, and his innards hung inches from the floor. It was all his fault. Muir's cry for help will be something he can never forgive or forget.

'Innes, where ya going?!'

'INNNNNEEEEEEEES!'

'Innes? Help me, Innes!'

'Innes? Where's Innes? I just need help, eh?'

How was Muir able to break down the walls he tried so hard to build? What was this man to him? Innes never cried, and yet in one day, he cried over him twice. Not even his ex-wife got him to cry when she left him for someone else. He didn't cry when his house got repossessed through his gambling. And he certainly didn't cry when he heard his dad had passed. A tendril kept wiping his tears away. Muir pulled him closer, and Innes hugged what he could of his face. He didn't want to let go.

The last 3 years raced through his mind. Innes remembered the day he was called up to Rennick's office. At first, he thought it was because he had rolled up his sleeves and pants because of the unbearable summer heat. He wasn't too happy to hear he'd be looking after a newcomer with no prior training, but he did get a bollocking for the uniform.

Muir stepped off the chopper without a single hair out of place or crease in his uniform. Like all new hires, he had brought too much baggage. A backpack and small suitcase. Innes knew more than half of that wasn't going to see the light of day for months. Always amusing to see. He lingered at the steps with crossed arms and a smirk. Rennick introduced himself with that fake yet convincing smile to the untrained eye. In all honesty, Innes thought Muir had brided his way to become a deckhand. How can someone just leave their family farm and instantly work on an oil rig? Still, he grinned and taught Muir everything he could, even if he kept his walls up.

He couldn't tell when they began to crumble, but whenever there was a crack, he would try to mend it. It was exhausting. A fight he had to surrender because as much as he denied it, feelings started to bloom. He hoped they would go overtime, but the opposite happened. Muir's looks, his smell, his laugh, and even his clumsy nature that has gotten the pair in more than enough trouble, just made Innes -

Oh. That's why. Because for the first time in years, Innes was genuinely happy.

'I love you.' He let out a shakey breath and sniffled as he pulled away. The muscles in his neck twitched as he smiled. The hurt look in his eyes was gone, and he could finally look at Muir. His heart continued to race and skip a beat. 'I wished I told you sooner.' He noticed Muir began to cry, but with a smile on the one side of his face. One of pure joy, as if all the problems in the world had washed away. Now, it was Innes' turn to wipe his tears. He'd noticed his right eye was completely open again, and his nose at some point had been put back into shape.

'I've been waiting three years for you to say that.' He stifled a laugh and lightly squeezed Innes' waist. 'I love you too, my big man.'

'I think that's you now.'

'Don't get smart with me.'

The pair shared a mix of laughter and cries. They pulled each other together for another long hug. Innes kissed Muir above his good eye, then at the bridge of his nose, where they placed their foreheads together. They dried each other's tears. Muir moved his head towards Innes to replicate a nuzzle on a part of his shoulder.

It might be the middle of winter, but they felt warm. It was inviting. It was new. It was something they didn't want to let go of, so they stayed like this. Frozen in time.

Roy opened the door. Neither had come for breakfast, so he thought it was best to check up on them. He found the pair huddled together. Tendrils wrapped around Innes like a blanket, except for his arms hugging them in return. Muir lightly snored, stretched, and gently pulled Innes closer.

He was no expert, but Roy could tell. He slowly closed the door and left the pair. What harm would another hour do?

[mostlysignssomeportents]

When you hear "fintech," think "unlicensed bank"

Tomorrow (May 2) I’ll be in Portland at the Cedar Hills Powell’s with Andy Baio for my new novel, Red Team Blues.

In theory, patents are for novel, useful inventions that aren’t obvious “to a skilled practitioner of the art.” But as computers ate our society, grifters began to receive patents for “doing something we’ve done for centuries…with a computer.” “With a computer”: those three words had the power to cloud patent examiners’ minds.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/01/usury/#tech-exceptionalism

Patent trolls — who secure “with a computer” patents and then extract ransoms from people doing normal things on threat of a lawsuit — are an underappreciated form of “tech exceptionalism.” Normally, “tech exceptionalism” refers to bros who wave away things like privacy invasions by arguing that “with a computer” makes it all different.

These tech exceptionalists are the legit face of tech exceptionalism, the Forbes 30 Under 30 set. They’re grifters, but they’re celebrated grifters. There’s a whole bottom-feeding sludge of tech exceptionalists that don’t get the same kind of attention, like patent trolls.

Oh, and the fintech industry.

As Riley Quinn says, “when you hear ‘fintech,’ think: ‘unlicensed bank.’” The majority of fintech “innovation” consists of adding “with a computer” to highly regulated activities and declaring them to be unregulated (and, in the case of crypto, unregulatable).

There are a lot of heavily regulated financial activities, like dealing in securities (something the crypto industry is definitely doing and claims it isn’t). Most people don’t buy or sell securities regularly — indeed, most Americans own little or no stocks.

But you know what regulated financial activity a lot of Americans participate in?

Going into debt.

As wages stagnate and the price of housing, medical care, childcare, transportation and education soar, Americans fund their consumption with debt. Trillions of dollars’ worth of debt. Many of us are privileged to borrow money by walking into a bank and asking for a loan, but millions of Americans are denied that genteel experience.

Instead, working Americans increasingly rely on payday lenders and other usurers who charge sky-high interest rates, on top of penalties and fees, trapping borrowers in an endless cycle of indebtedness. This is an historical sign of a civilization in decline: productive workers require loans to engage in useful activities. Normally, the activity pans out — the crop comes in, say — and the debt is repaid.

But eventually, you’ll get a bad beat. The crop fails, the workshop burns down, a pandemic shuts down production. Instead of paying off your debt, you have to roll it over. Now, you’re in an even worse situation, and the next time you catch a bad break, you go further into debt. Over time, all production comes under the control of creditors.

The historical answer to this is jubilee: a regular wiping-away of all debt. While this was often dressed up in moral language, there was an absolutely practical rationale for it. Without jubilee, eventually, all the farmers stop growing food so that they can grow ornamental flowers for their creditors’ tables. Then, as starvation sets in, civilization collapses:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/08/jubilant/#construire-des-passerelles

As the debt historian Michael Hudson says, “Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid.” Without jubilee, indebtedness becomes a chronic and inescapable condition. As more and more creditors attach their claims to debtors’ assets, they have to compete with one another to terrorize the debtor into paying them off, first. One creditor might threaten to garnish your paycheck. Another, to repossess your car. Another, to evict you from your home. Another, to break your arm. Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid — but when you have a choice between a broken arm and stealing from your kid’s college fund or the cash-register, maybe the debt can be paid…a little. Of course, digital tools offer all kinds of exciting new tools for arm-breakers — immobilizing your car, say, or deleting the apps on your phone, starting with the ones you use most often:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Under Trump, payday lenders romped through America. A lobbyist for the payday lenders became a top Trump lawyer:

https://theintercept.com/2017/11/27/white-house-memo-justifying-cfpb-takeover-was-written-by-payday-lender-attorney/

This lobbyist then oversaw Trump’s appointment of a Consumer Finance Protection Bureau boss who deregulated payday lenders, opening the door to triple digit interest rates:

https://www.latimes.com/business/lazarus/la-fi-lazarus-cfpb-payday-lenders-20180119-story.html

To justify this, the payday loan industry found corruptible academics and paid them to write papers defending payday loans as “inclusive.” These papers were secretly co-authored by payday loan industry lobbyists:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2019/02/25/how-payday-lending-industry-insider-tilted-academic-research-its-favor/

Of course, Trump doesn’t read academic papers, so the payday lenders also moved their annual conference to a Trump resort, writing the President a check for $1m:

https://www.propublica.org/article/trump-inc-podcast-payday-lenders-spent-1-million-at-a-trump-resort-and-cashed-in

Biden plugged many of the cracks that Trump created in the firewalls that guard against predatory lenders. Most significantly, he moved Rohit Chopra from the FTC to the CFPB, where, as director, he has overseen a determined effort to rein in the sector. As the CFPB re-establishes regulation, the fintech industry has moved in to add “with a computer” to many regulated activities and so declare them beyond regulation.

One fintech “innovation” is the creation of a “direct to consumer Earned Wage Access” product. Earned Wage Access is just a fancy term for a program some employers offer whereby workers can get paid ahead of payday for the hours they’ve already worked. The direct-to-consumer EWA offers loans without verifying that the borrower has money coming in. Companies like Earnin claim that their faux EWA services are free, but in practice, everyone who uses the service pays for the “Lightning Speed” upsell.

Of course they do. Earnin charges sky-high interest rates and twists borrowers’ arms into leaving a “tip” for the service (yes, they expect you to tip your loan-shark!). Anyone desperate enough to pay triple-digit interest rates and tip the service for originating their loan is desperate and needs to the money now:

https://prospect.org/power/05-01-2023-fintech-ewa-payday-loan-scam/

EWA annual interest rates sit around 300%. The average EWA borrower uses the service two or three times every month. EWA CEOs and lobbyists claim that they’re banking the unbanked — but the reality is that they’re acting as sticky-fingered brokers between banks and young, poor workers, marking up traditional bank services.

This fact is rarely mentioned when EWA companies lobby state legislatures seeking to be exempted from usury rules that are supposed to curb predatory lenders. In Vermont, Earnin wants an exemption from the state’s 18% interest rate cap — remember, the true APR for EWA loans is about 300%.

In Texas, payday lenders are classed as loan brokers, not loan originators and are thus able to avoid the state’s usury caps. EWAs are lobbying the Texas legislature for further exemptions from state money-transmitter and usury limit laws, principally on the strength of the “it’s different: we do it with a computer” logic.

But as Jarod Facundo writes for The American Prospect, quoting Monica Burks from the Center for Responsible Lending, a loan is a loan even if it’s with a computer: “The industry is trying to create a new definition for what a loan is in order to exempt themselves from existing consumer protection laws… When you offer someone a portion of money on the promise that they will repay it, and often that repayment will be accompanied with fees or charges or interest, that’s what a loan is.”

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Mountain View, Berkeley, Portland, Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: A stately, columnated bank building, bedecked in garish payday lender signs.]

Image: Andre Carrotflower (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:30_North_%28former_Pontiac_Commercial_%26_Savings_Bank_Building%29,_Pontiac,_Michigan_-_entrance_and_Chief_Pontiac_relief_sculpture_-_20201213.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[kenshiluvr]

AAA SO I ACCIDENTALLY LOST THE ASK BUT I REMEMBER THE PROMPT!!

double agents

kenshi takahashi/reader

summary: kenshi needs to find sento, so he uses cage’s agent to get to it.

tags: kidnapping!!, slow burn(ish), not established relationship, reader crushing on kenshi, johnny being stubborn, kenshi being a bit flirty at the end

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───

A bright, blinding light shines onto your face, making you squint and your nose scrunch up. “Ugh-“ you groan, your head hurting a little as you come to. “Wake up.” The stranger’s voice grunts, footsteps stopping before you. Looking up, you blink a few times, adjusting to the harsh light in your face. Before you is… a very attractive man. “Uh… hello?” You fluster a little, unsure as to why he’s kidnapped you. You’re a boring person, in your honest opinion… the only thing you’ve got going for you is that you’re Johnny Cage’s agent.

“The sword.” The stranger scowls, crossing his arms. “Im sorry?” You respond, brows furrowing with confusion. “Your boss has something of mine. I need it back. Where. Is. The. Sword.” He leans down, hands gripping the arms of the chair you’re tied to. “Sword? Look, dude… Johnny buys a lot of useless crap. You should ask him!” You sigh, leaning back in the chair a little. He smells of an expensive cologne, it makes you a little lightheaded… not because it’s strong but because he’s so hot…

The man huffs, backing off. “Useless.” He grunts, shaking his head. “Sento isn’t useless.” He turns back to you, narrowing his eyes. “Sento?” You question, examining him. “Wait-!” your eyes light up with realisation. “Sento? Like the sword Johnny blew three million on?” You ask, watching the stranger’s eyes soften a little bit. “Yes. I need it. It… belongs to my family’s ancestors.” He explains, stroking his wrist idly. “I thought Johnny said that… the sword’s previous owners were all dead..?” your brows furrow a little. “Not exactly… we’ve been in hiding.” The stranger sighs. “It’s a whole other story… I don’t wanna get into it.” He mutters, glancing away. “Where can I find the sword?” His gaze returns to you.

“In his home. He has it framed… but I doubt Johnny would… y’know… hand it over.” You shrug a little. The stranger hums. “Then I’ll take it from him. And you’re gonna help me.” He states, moving behind you to untie the ropes binding you. “Uhm… I don’t know-“

“Help me or I’ll leave you here.” He threatens, helping you to your feet. “And… sorry for hitting you over the head.” He adds on, his hand letting go of yours. You almost grab on instinctively when it slips away, but you remember yourself and lower your hand. “Um… i’m sorry- but… who are you?” You ask. He must already know who you are, he must of done research about yourself and Johnny. “I am Kenshi Takahashi.” He nods. “And don’t worry, I already know your name.” Kenshi winks; you feel your heart explode. “Uh- right! The sword. Yup… let’s go… steal from my boss.” You fluster a little bit. Kenshi chuckles. “Not stealing… just… repossessing.” He shrugs, leading you out of the room.

You find yourself in Kenshi’s car, staring at the mansion of Johnny Cage… your boss. “I can’t believe I agreed to this.” You murmur, listening to Kenshi hum. “Don’t worry. We’ll be in and out.” He assures you, glancing to you, then back to the mansion. You sigh, unsure as to whether or not you condone this. “Can’t you just ask for the sword back? Why do we have to steal it?” You ask, glancing to Kenshi. “Don’t be silly. He wont just give it back and you know it.” Kenshi sighs softly.

“He might…” you mutter in response. Kenshi huffs through his nose, chuckling briefly. A woman you recognise storms out of the house, slamming the door behind her. Whilst you see a fuming woman, Kenshi sees an opportunity to get in. “C’mon-“ he gets out of the car abruptly, prompting you to scramble out after him. Cris, Johnny’s spouse, spots you, and her brows furrow. “Who’s this?” She greets you, giving Kenshi a look over. “A- um… he’s a friend…” you smile sheepishly, hoping she’d believe you. “Hm… I’ve never seen him..” she crosses her arms suspiciously. “Ah- uh… yeah, he’s real busy- but I’m busy right now, see you later!” You grab Kenshi’s arm, dragging him inside. Cris sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Smooth,” Kenshi nudges you, and you sigh. “Shut up! You’re here to steal from my boss!” You whisper yell back, leading Kenshi through the expensive mansion. “Where’s the sword again?” He asks lowly, sneaking through the home with you. “It’s on the mantelpiece. He has it framed above it.” You whisper back. With no hesitation, Kenshi rounds a corner, spotting Cage, and his sword. “Hey.” He calls out, and Johnny turns. “Uh- hey?” The actor’s brows furrow. “Ah- hi, Johnny…. I can- explain..?” you shrug meekly. I better not get into trouble for this… I don’t even know this guy..! you think to yourself. “Okay…? who’s this?”

“Kenshi Takahashi.” Kenshi introduces himself curtly. “Your assistant, she’s real helpful. But that’s not why I’m here.” He shrugs, approaching Sento. “The sword. I need it,” he turns back to Johnny, who furrows his brows. “Uh- no, you don’t. I paid fair and square for that sword!” He argues. Kenshi sighs, looking to the sword once more. “That sword is important! It’s connected to my family… with it, I can free my family from the Yakuza…” he breathes out the last part, sighing. “Give it to me.” Kenshi demands, his gaze falling back onto the actor. “What?! No!” Johnny scoffs. “That sword is one of a kind! Besides, the family that owned it, they’re all gone man.” He shrugs. Kenshi hums. “Not quite… we’ve been in hiding.” He explains with a sigh. Johnny tuts, “I’m having trouble believing that…”

You clear your throat briefly, bringing attention back to you. “Hey, uh…” the tension is certainly rising between them, you can feel it. “Why don’t we just talk about this? I- I’m sure we can figure something out so everyone’s happy… right?” You gesture a little with your hands. Johnny shakes his head. “No can do, sugar. Unless this guy’s got three mil’ in his back pocket, I’m not giving that sword up.” He crosses his arms… ever so stubborn. “I have no problem taking it.” Kenshi straightens his back. He’s getting Sento, one way or another. “You’re not taking Sento. I paid for it.” Johnny scoffs. “But it belongs, rightfully, to me!” Kenshi argues. “Bullshit! Where’d you find this guy?” The actor turns to you, narrowing his eyes. “Leave her out of this, this is between us now.” Kenshi steps closer, narrowing his own eyes at Johnny. “Give me Sento. Or I’ll be forced to take it in a less than savoury way.” He scowls. “Guys- can we just calm down? Maybe we can-“

“Not now,” Johnny waves you off. “Im gonna deal with this guy.” The actor scowls, squaring up with Kenshi; who is more than ready to fight. Kenshi spares you a glance, and a tiny wink. “Don’t worry. I’ll win this.” He teases… and you hate how easily this guy makes you blush.

[shannendoherty-fans]

1993 - Shannen Doherty portrayed by Davis Factor for the April 23, 1993 issue of Entertainment Weekly, featuring her on the cover.

Celebrity Hell

SHANNEN DOHERTY FEELS THE BURN

90210's fallen angel wants to heal her singed reputation. We show her (and other bedeviled stars) how to climb the stairway to heaven

By Lisa Schwartzaum.

THE CAREER CHALLENGES facing Shannen Doherty are these: How can she convince a skeptical public that she is not the tantrum-throwing prima donna, impoverished spendthrift, and out- of-control Hollywood headache that a barrage of reports in the higher and lower echelons of journalistic enterprise have made her out to be? How can the young star of Beverly Hills, 90210 redeem Brenda Walsh, her TV character, from the purgatory into which she has descended, wan and bereft of her broody boyfriend, Dylan McKay, and mocked by former fans who once loved wholesome Brenda but who now, at the end of the show's third season, hate her for her moody, goody-goody, expensively dressed ways? How can the small, pale, 22-year-old Southern Baptist from Memphis, Tenn., get everybody off her case?

For starters, she can settle in with a plate of french fries and a pack of Marlboro Lights and a cup of cappuccino and start confessing. About her money troubles. About how she knows she truly ought to stop smoking, since cancer runs in her family and the habit is turning her teeth yellow and will eventually make her fine skin look old. She can roast the old anti-Shannen chestnuts: that she slugged a woman in a bar; that she pitches fits to such an extent that she appeared as a joke in last week's Doonesbury. She can accept some blame.

Which is what she did – just as 90210 began its three-month spring hiatus this month and shortly before she left for a week's Hawaiian vacation with her live-in boyfriend, photo-studio owner Dean Factor, 28 (of the Max Factor cosmetics family), and with friend and 90210 classmate Tori Spelling, 19, and her beau, would-be actor Nick Savalas, 19. (Also planned for the break: starting work on Blindfold, a feature starring Judd Nelson; and attending a Grateful Dead concert.)

In fact, Shannen Doherty – who first found fame a decade ago on TV's Little House on the Prairie and went on to torment Winona Ryder as a bitchy high school snob in the 1989 film Heathers – talked and talked and talked, as if her career depended on it. And now we talk back, with a tailor-made image-rehab plan for the woman who inspired The I Hate Brenda Newsletter: (Will Brenda go to the University of Minesota and be written out of the series next season? Get real.)

If you can't pay cash, you can't afford it. On the one hand, Doherty admits to running up major bills (some reports put her debt at over $36,000). On the other hand, Doherty says she's paying it off – and insists she's no pauper. "I'm really fed up with people printing how much I make, especially when they get it wrong," she says. "I do not make $12,000 a week. I make a lot more money than $12,000 a week. But I'm in the highest tax bracket, and I have, you know, attorneys to pay for. And, granted, I have gone on shopping binges. When you're young and all you know is how much money you make a week, you don't necessarily start thinking about, you know, everything that comes out of it." Splitting the rent on the Beverly Hills Cape Cod-style house she now shares with Factor will cut expenses, but there's still $13,000 in dispute on her former house, which the landlord claims is owed as back rent and which Doherty claims represents the security deposit and lease option owed to her. "I didn't get thrown out of my house," she says defiantly. "Otherwise I wouldn't still have the keys." The case is currently being litigated. Limiting herself to one Mercedes instead of two will also save a bit, although reports that several cars have been repossessed is just exhaust, she says. She authorized the repo of a 500 SL she had leased for an ex-boyfriend ("a car that I wasn't even driving, and for somebody that I wasn't even going out with"). "If I had all these problems with my leasing company, why am I able to drive around in a Mercedes that I leased through them right now?" Doherty challenges. "If I had all these financial problems, there's absolutely no way in hell a bank would finance an $80,000 car."

2. The Donna Reed routine is refreshing. Keep it up. "My boyfriend and I are both sort of through with doing the night-club scene and partying and drinking," says Doherty, who has often been photographed carousing (usually with Spelling and accompanying escorts) at L.A.'s trendy club, Roxbury. "Clubbing was a big part of me, but I think it's because I was a little lost. I was young and under a lot of pressure and unhappy in my personal relationship. I don't have that problem anymore." She now describes an idyllic life of cooking chicken dinners with Factor and playing with her three dogs. Staying home should help her bottom line, too: After she made headlines like BRAWLING STARLET BUSTED last December for tangling at Roxbury with lesser-known actress Bonita Money (charges were eventually dropped), she says she lost at least three product-endorsement deals.

3. Shock your public: Say you're sorry! "I will grant that in the first season, I was not the most diplomatic person. But I did not throw temper tantrums. I went days and days and days without having a fit! Weeks!" says Doherty, with a laugh. "You know, right now I feel very much in control. Besides," she adds, more wishful, perhaps, than sure, "there are a lot of people out there who are getting very, very sick of Brenda bashing. People come up to me and go, like, 'We thought you'd be a bitch, we just wanted to come up and see if you were or weren't. And you're not." (The 90210 cast, having offered supportive comments in the past, is now tired of being asked about her; Doherty's recently fired publicist gives a terse "no comment" on her former client.)

4. Lighten up. That goes for Shannen and Brenda. Doherty is deeply steamed about the jokey one-shot I Hate Brenda Newsletter, which rode a wave of anti-Brenda/Shannen sentiment and showered considerable media attention on its two young creators. "It's ridiculous," she says, non-temper flaring, "that two girls, wherever they are, are so incredibly jealous of one person who happens to be on TV and are so desperate for publicity that they would create lies." But she can see how one might think Brenda is a pill. "The [90210] writers and I have had this conversation," she says. "Let's make her not quite so pathetic, let's have her mellow out.' And that is happening. You'll see Brenda spiritually become a little bit of a stronger person." (Of late, Brenda is looking spiritually subdued: humble in washed-out lipstick tones and more modestly dressed.)

5. Do not do that Playboy pictorial. She's thinking about it, negotiating with the magazine over how much of her body she'd expose. "They offered me a very large sum of money – over $300,000 – which I think anybody would have a very hard time turning down," she explains. "Besides, it might make people say, hey, she's not Brenda Walsh, she is Shannen Doherty, and she can play a lot older than 17 and high school." We repeat: Don't do it. If you pose, you will share that undistinguished honor with Mimi Rogers. La Toya Jackson. Joan Collins. Vanna White. And you'll never, ever win back Dylan McKay.

[somewhat-adorkable]

Trigger warning for some graphic depictions of death:

The first dead body I saw belonged to my Grandpa Marcus.

He worked his whole life to provide for his family, only to be crushed by a cotton truck when he was in his sixties.

I was only four, standing next to his casket, I reached my hand out and froze. I understood this was not my grandpa, simply his body. Nothing more. But it felt wrong to touch, to search for life in something that was no longer living.

"It's okay," my mom whispered, squeezing my hand, "you can touch."

I did. Small fingers drifting over a cheek that felt like wax, not like warm human skin. When I touched his chest it crinkled from the filler they had to use to hide his gruesome ending. I shook my head at my mom and whispered, "that's not grandpa."

It was the first time I saw my dad cry.

Life went on.

The sixth time I looked at a dead body, I was thirteen, it was the body of my dad.

He looked swollen and purple, and the people around us kept saying how good he looked.

I knew they were lying.

He had violently choked to death on his own blood, while my mother screamed for the paramedics to hurry up and find our house.

They got lost on the way.

A five minute drive took them almost an hour.

He was long gone by the time they arrived.

I looked at his body, wondering how many people knew that when you're too tall for a casket, they cut your legs off so you'll fit.

I went back to school three days later.

Two girls in class had a discussion about how they would lose it if their father died, they didn't know if they could live without him.

Life went on.

Seven months later, during spring break, my grandmother died on the floor in front of me.

The neighbor, a paramedic, heard the call go out over the radio and kicked the door in to get to us.

To help me keep her alive.

I got asked hundreds of questions about medications, if she was slurring, if she could stand before she fell.

Her last coherent words were 'dont worry'.

I didn't ride in the ambulance with her.

She looked beautiful in her casket

Life went on.

When my mom's boyfriend lived with us, he owned a rollback service. He worked for the county, picking up wrecked and repossessed cars.

The night before Thanksgiving, we were called to a fatal crash. I rode with him.

The driver, a teenage boy, had been taken away by ambulance.

The girl's mangled body was pinned under the truck.

An officer handed me her phone and asked me to turn it off, the screen lighting up with calls and texts from her mom, wondering where she was.

The picture on the lock screen was my cousin Courtney.

The mangled mound of flesh they removed from under the truck was her.

The funeral was closed casket, I heard my aunt scream for God to take her too

Life went on

A couple years ago, the day before my birthday, we found my uncle dead.

He was supposed to come over but never showed, so we went a few doors down to his house.

The door was unlocked, and he was on the floor

Eyes open and unblinking

He had been hiding that his house was rotting, the dresser in his room having fallen through the floor and to the ground below

He never asked for help

Gave all his money to his daughter

We wouldn't let her into his house, didn't want her to see the conditions he has been living in.

I went to work after

Later that day a bullet came through the window of the house I had been cleaning.

I wondered if I would have gotten to see him again.

Life went on.

I called my god father to tell him I was making chicken wraps for dinner. He didn't answer.

Not uncommon, on Sundays he and a lot of his friends went out to eat for lunch, riding back roads on side by sides and gocarts to get to a little backwoods restaurant.

I figured he would call back when he could hear me.

Not long after I heard sirens.

Turns out, as they were leaving to come home, a woman had stopped her SUV on the other side of a blind curve.

When he and Antony, one of my brother's good friends, rounded that curve on their gocart going 55mph....

Well, gocarts are much smaller than SUVs.

One was decapitated, the other had his face and head crushed completely flat.

No one on scene could do anything to save them.

The woman sued their families for 'emotional damage'

I didn't make the church wraps.

Life went on

The day after my girlfriend moved in,

I was on the floor folding clothes, she was sitting on my bed, we were talking idly,

My mom walked in, and with certainty said: "your cousin was murdered."

"which one?" I asked

"Destiny."

My cousin was seventeen years old.

She and her boyfriend had been beaten and shot to death in a random act of violence.

She got her name because her mom never knew she was pregnant, not until she gave birth to a baby while in the shower, the day after selling all her old baby furniture

So she named the surprise baby Destiny

Then someone saw fit to make sure she never saw 18

Life went on

I took care of my neighbor for years.

Her daughter and law left the family because of the stress of the medical care.

I was just the neighbor kid that had been coming around my whole life, there was no reason for me to be the one doing hours of wound care,

Fingers up to my knuckles in the split skin in her legs, scraping off dead tissue.

The doctors at the hospital told me I was doing amazing.

One day when I was at work, she fell.

She died a week later in the hospital

Swollen, hardly recognizable, I thought maybe death was a mercy to her.

Her hand felt like ice in mine the last time I held it. I knew she would be sad her nails weren't painted pink.

I cried so hard at her funeral I threw up

My boss called to ask why I wasn't at work that day

Life went on

One afternoon, when I got home from work, my roommate in tow, my mom looked at us and said "I told my self I wasn't going to cry....."

She hugged me through tears and said, "we need hotdog buns."

I laughed a moment, asked what she was on about, she softly told me her bestfriend had died a little while earlier.

My god-mom had died the same way my dad died

Except this time the ambulance arrived in time

But it didn't make a difference

I didn't go to her funeral

Life went on

When my neighbors house burner, I had the flu.

But I ran outside anyway

In my pajamas, no shoes on

I ran through the burning grass to get to my uncle because he was screaming for help

He didn't have a phone, I called 911

Together, we got her out of the house

I couldn't see anything inside, the air thick with black, acidic smoke that burned my lungs and eyes

Her skin, fragile with age and heat, split under our hands

In the yard, I felt her rips snap under my hands as I attempted CPR, her lips a sickening mixture of cold and warm as I struggled to force air into her lungs.....

there was no soot in her mouth or throat

She died before the fire started

I repeatedly pressed my ear to her chest to try and hear something over my own roaring heartbeat and my uncle's devastated screams for me to please save her

I held her bloody arm to my chest and told her 'its going to be okay, I can hear the sirens, Ms.Myrtle. they're coming.'

I knew she couldn't hear me.

I sat on the ground with my uncle for over an hour, we clung to each other like a lifeline as firemen and cops whorled around us

His granddaughter panicked when she got home and ran to us, seeing the blood on our arms and clothes, I whispered "it's not ours, we're okay."

When the firemen found her cat, I took her straight to the vet.

In the silence of the exam room, I looked down at my arms and clothes, smeared with blood, soot, and now cat hair

I started shaking violently

One of the vet techs hugged me until I could breathe again

And somehow

Life went on

[impostorsshow]

Hello Tumblr city I have nightly doodles

This time it was just finishing up old doodles since I only gave myself 2 hours, and uh. I also had a Garfield x Tom sketch but I decided not to finish that one also if you want to hear about my DSAF au that goes with the image click the read more below

Close up of the image along with the ref I used i wouldnt recommend clicking on any of my images for higher quality since my coloring is very unpolished

Anyway this au is pretty simple but I highly enjoy it so I'm going to rant about it past my bedtime - essentially, I looked at how the good ending is a pretty sad ending, and while it's great when the canon/best endings in games aren't the best outcome, I wanted to fix it /j. Specifically I wanted a good ending for Davenport, fuck the children fuck everything else let's take the morals of the Dave endings in the games and fucking run with them.

So i uh haven't replayed the game in a long while forgive me for mistaking a few details but it follows the ending where you salvage davetrap, and Jack doesn't go past the second layer of the flip side and never meets Dee, but instead of Henry possessing Jack or whatever the fuck happened there, Jack starts to work on a solution. I should mention this is a world where Jack never gets a new phone guy but listens to all of Henry's tapes - but Jack gathers the fact that daveyrap is unhappy because hes not a complete soul, and devises a plan. That plan is just to work with both Dave's, making sure davetrap doesn't cause his business to go under due to child murder but he can't completely stop him and working with flipside Dave to both figure out how to make a robot vessel that looks like Dave and could reasonably pass as looking like a human since it wouldn't need anything for programming or ai or movement that possession would be capable of, and to convince flipside Dave to try and be a complete soul again.

Because from what I've gathered, the whole soul thing means thag when the "child" or in Dave's case the part that doesn't want to deal with murder part of the soul goes away to the flip side, the soul is torn apart since there's still something with a mind in the animatronics, it's just left without the reason part of itself. If we incorporate remnant lore which I'm not going to go very far in it further exemplifies the point that Dave repossessing himself over and over tore his soul apart while normal dead kids just leave the remnant behind but whatever whatever Jack decides that if the two halves of the soul exist in one body again they can merge back together and become one soul capable of the full range of emotions, including happiness.

Also my jacks a bit fucked up in the head because this jack went to Vegas twice and killed the real Fredbear so he's on a slippery slope of almost becoming a Henry Miller pulling this shit and asking Dave to continue repossessing himself, but instead risking losing his soul entirely by asking him to possess something that doesn't have any connection to his dead body. And it works when the "it looks exactly like Dave but he can't go in the rain and doesn't smell like a rotting corpse anymore and also doesnt have nearly as many scars" robot vessel is built and the two try possessing the body. And then Dave helps Jack make a robot body for himself and is built in like 1/3rd of the time since Dave knows how animatronics work and not smelling is a pretty nice feature, except Jack doesn't actually *have* a soul so for all intents and purposes I have no clue how to fix that so the jack body is just sitting in the closet of jacks house useless but it's there.

And like then there's actual lore but I need to go to sleep since I have school tomorrow but Dave and Jack decide to keep running Freddy fazbenders considering Jack doesn't have a problem with murder, and the two soul halves in davetrap argue enough that the murder keeps to enough where Freddy fazbenders just seems like a hotspot rather than it actually needing to be a place in need of getting shut down for an investigation. That and Jack blackmailed the phone guy I forgot his name into helping them cover shit up in exchange for getting a hell of alot of freedom [for a phone guy it's a lot of freedom at least, Fredbears isn't a stranger to murder coverups even if it goes against his morals.] Also the nice part of Dave is only really staying with davetrap because he cares so much about jack because I do support Davesport but I try to keep it at a level of implication so it can be passed off as platonic if someone wants it to be

[jacobsneed]

Thank you to everyone still tagging me in stuff during my hiatus! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

I've still been doing not so top-notch; body being wack and feeling absolutely braindead most days lmao, though I've taken a hard break from art, and got a few WIPs from before i stopped :3c But despite how I should be resting as much as I can, I've seemed to come down with the writing bug after years, lmao :P So what's a guy to do?

More doodles of Tatjana, Lupe, Ljubica, and the barbie meme with Seoyeon and Jared because they are my favourite goofballs

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand a bigger snippet of a short gtaiv piece I wrote

"It's been difficult, you know?" Niko murmured, approaching Ilyena, each breath exhaling a ghostly mist into the biting October air. "Yes. Very difficult," Ilyena replied through a heavy sigh. Feeling the weight of unspoken guilt bearing down on him, Niko averted his gaze, desperately searching for solace before offering his condolences. "I was sorry to hear about your husband," he said. A futile attempt at offering comfort through an embrace dissipated before it began; his head hung low, weighed down by unspoken thoughts. A strangled laugh escaped Ilyena's lips, slicing through the chilled air like a dagger, "Were you?" Her voice quivering with bitter disdain, looking down and exhaling deeply before continuing, "Maybe… Unlike that treacherous rat, Dimitri." Anguish spilled through her, each syllable poisoned with sorrow, turning away from Niko, her hand shielding her face from view. "He and I are not friends." Niko retorted with icy detachment. Ilyena pivoted back towards Niko, her glassy eyes reflecting the streetlamp's mournful glow before her gaze found his again��� eyes glistening with unshed tears. "My husband was not perfect." she confessed through an exhausted shrug. "Far from it, he was awful. A murdering, drug addicted bully." Her voice wavered, cracking under the weight of her emotions. "In many ways, the world is better off without him––but now I am alone." She shuddered before him, defeated and vulnerable, posture hanging down in defeat. Awkwardness wrapped itself tightly around Niko's throat like a noose, standing detached––an observer in this storm of misery––struggling to discern any healing words amidst his murky sea of guilt. Wetting his cracking lips, he mustered only the simplest consolation: "I'm sorry about that." Rubbing his clutched hands for warmth against lips chapped by apathy, the chilly air gnawing at his guilt. Niko's attention returned to Ilyena, as she continued to bear her grievances - an unfathomable abyss of loss. "And my daughter grows up without a father…" she laments, "she's learning a bitter lesson very early." Niko's brow furrowed in helpless anguish; like banshees, the echoes of Ilyena's grievances stirred Niko's tormented conscience; like a merciless tidal wave, salt-stung lacerating thoughts of his own daughter–– Ljubica––surfaced. The realization materializes: how little he had been present in her life—how even now he was squandering opportunities. He was consumed by the stark realization that he'd dedicated more time to spilling blood in America than nurturing the love within his family. "Yes, it's bad," Niko conceded quickly, swallowing the lump in his throat that threatened to suffocate him, eyes locked forward, unwavering upon the cold horizon; anchored to some distant spectre. Mind swimming with his past and present failures. "And now the money is gone, the house got repossessed, and we are living in a one-room apartment." Ilyena vented with nervous haste, her voice tinged with rising frustration. Clutching her chest as if to anchor herself, "The land of opportunity!?" She scoffs, a burst of exasperation, her arms splayed wide like the wings of a disillusioned bird taking flight. "I'd rather be back in Russia! At least there, people don't pretend life has any pleasure." She snarls, defeated. A suffocating, oppressive silence ensnared them, akin to a funereal shroud of fog, marooned on the desolate boardwalk's stillness. Time seemed to crawl at a glacial pace until Niko finally shattered the torturous void in which they were entombed.

[mint-moon25]

DEAR - PHILIPPINE - FAMILIES - CALIFORNIA

FLEA - MARKETS - FOOD - MARKETS - KAHIT

ORANGE - COUNTY - FOLLOW - KOREAN - KR

AMERICAN - BOY - LOVES - PORK AT STEAKS

ROCKSTAR - EATER

HE - WILL - SHOW - U - LARGE - FOOD PLACES

MARKETS - LOTS - OF - PINOY - FOOD SHOWN

OUR - PRIVATE - PLANES - COMING - MANY OF

LANDING - LEGALLY - THERE - 2 - GET - ALL OF

U - NO - PASSPORTS - NEEDED - BRING YOUR

FRIENDS - THEIR - FAMILIES - BRINGING - U 2

OUR - ESTATES - AT - ASHEVILLE - BLUE RIDGE

MOUNTAINS - ORIGINAL - US STATE - SIEMPRE

LIKE - MIAMI - LOWS - OF - 27 DEGREES

FREE - VACCINES - 2 - ADJUST - 2 SNOW

AND - COLD - WEATHER

ASHEVILLE - ESTATES - STABLES HORSES

NEXT - STOP - MY - CASTLES - FULLY PAID

FRANCE - WILL - CHECK - SUPER - COLD

CASTLES - OF - CANADA - THERE - U WILL

HAVE - LARGER PLANES - 2 EXPERIENCE

FIJI ISLANDS - BORA BORA - TAHITI - AND

THE - MALDIVES - AQUA - WATERS - AS U 

KNOW - THOUGH - RICHEST - MEN - IN THE

WORLD - WALA - MASYADONG - MAYAMAN

AND - UNITED STATES - LAHAT - WORKERS

SO - ‘THE - LOVE - OF - MONEY - IS - THE - 

ROOT - OF - ALL - EVIL’ - WHY - WORKERS - 

AMERICANS - AGE 245 - VERY - EVIL - FOR - 

THEY - DON’T - WORK - BILLS - NOT - PAID - 

EVICTION - REPOSSESSION - YESTERDAY - 

EMERGENCY - FUNDS - 4 - CORONAVIRUS - 

ENDED - 11 MAY 2023 - SO - TODAY - THEY - 

ATTACKED - ME - BECAUSE - THEY’RE YES - 

ILLEGALLY - ARMED - AND - WORK - MONEY - 

2 - PAY - THEIR - APTS - HOUSES - SO - WE - 

FREEZE - THEIR - MONEY - 4 - 500 YEARS - 

ALL - FAMILY - MEMBERS - RELATIVES ALL - 

ESCAPED - OR - NOT - WORLDWIDE - AND - 

USA - 500 YEARS - THEIR - CHECKS - AND - 

MONEY - ALL - INVALID - INHERITANCE ALL - 

MONEY - VOID - 4 - 500 YEARS - LIKE - THE - 

PSYCHIATRISTS - WHO - ATTACKED - ME - 

PLENARY - GUARDIANS - ALL - WILL HAVE - 

500 YEARS - MONEY - FREEZE - SO - THEY - 

HAVE - 2 - BEG - 4 - EVERYTHING - LIKE - 

GYPSIES - USA - AND - WORLD - THUS IT - 

IS - IMPORTANT - WHERE - WE - LIVE - IN - 

FUTURE - BECAUSE LIKE - KOREANS WILL - 

USE - HOUSEHOLD - OR - PARING - KNIVES - 

THAT - CAN’T - EVEN - CUT - BREAD - FAST - 

GOD - SAID - HE - WON’T - ALLOW - US - 2 B - 

CAPTURED - PSALM 18:36 - GNB - GOOD - 

NEWS - BIBLE - HOLY GHOST PREPARED - 

ME - 4 - TODAY - MY - FELONIES - WILL - 

SAY - 1 YEAR - LOITERING - BRICKELL - MALL - 

CAMPED - 1 YEAR - IN - CHI’s - GARDEN LAWN - 

HAS - GOLF - UMBRELLA - FR - AMAZON PRIME - 

THEY’RE - GETTING - INTERNET - RESTRAINING - 

ORDERS - SAMSUNG - RESTRAINING - ORDERS - 

K POP - BTS - STARS - RESTRAINING - ORDERS - 

HOW - 2 - INCREASE THEIR - SALES AS STORES - 

THUS - PHILIPPINE - FAMILIES - NOW - IS - THE - 

TIME - 2 - RELOCATE - FROM - CALIFORNIA - 31 - 

ONLY - AS - STATE - TIME - 2 - GET - 2 - KNOW - 

ORIGINAL - 13 STATES - LIKE - THEY THOUGHT - 

2 - GET - MY - CENTRAL - PARK - TOWER

PENTHOUSE - ADDRESS - PH IN STREET

LIKE - I - WAS - GIVING - MY - STATE - ID

LESBIANS - LESBIANS - LESBIANS - YOU

KNOW - AS - WE GET - OUR - AUTOMATIC

SAMURAI’s - AS - SPECIAL - MARINES

SPECIAL - AIR FORCE - SPECIAL NAVY

AS - MILITARY SURGEONS OUTDOORS

WE - DELIVER - BABIES - CAMPING - GROUNDS

NEAR - RIVERS - AND - MOUNTAINS - ON THESE

MOUNTAINS - NORTH - CAROLINA - FITS - US - 

VERY - WELL - AS - WE - ARE - 

BULLET - AND - KNIFE SURGEONS

KIDS - EYE - DENTAL - SURGEONS

WILD - AND - DOMESTIC - ANIMALS

SURGEONS

NEW MILITARY - ACUPUNCTURISTS

SHE - SHOWED - HER - VAGINAL - AREA

IN - TERMS - OF - ‘YOU’RE - BULL - SH ..’

ADULT - COMMUNICATION

FOUL - LANGUAGE

FLORIDA - NO - STATE - TAXES

27TH - STATE

TEXAS - NO - STATE - TAXES

28TH - STATE

NORTH - CAROLINA

MOUNTAINS - STATE - PARKS

13 - ORIGINAL STATE - SNOW

TAXES - 7%

2016 - SELF - MAGAZINE

‘SAFEST - CITY - FOR - WOMEN’

‘HAPPIEST - CITY - IN - THE - EAST - COAST’

ONE - OF - THE - 10 BEST - CITIES - 2 LIVE IN

PHILIPPINE - FAMILIES - TIME - 4 - PROGRAM

‘MIGRATE - TAYO’ 

24/7 - HOLIDAYS - MINDORO - LIVING - SEAFOOD

CAFE - ‘TULOY - PO - KAYO’

KIDS - SENIORS - 24/7 - HOLIDAYS - FREE - FOOD

FREE - DRINKS

SOMETHING - THAT - WILL - NEVER - HAPPEN ON

EARTH - INTRODUCING - IN - ASHEVILLE - NC - SO

HOP - ON - BOARD - EASTER - BUNNY

‘MIGRATE - TAYO’

WELCOME - PACKAGE

TONGUES - $500 BILLION - TAX - PAID

SING - TONGUES - $500 BILLION ALSO

SELL - HOUSES - 2 - SINGERS - OR - DANCERS

OR - MUSICAL - INSTRUMENT - FOR - $1.00 EA

PER - HOUSE - WE - GIVE - U - $500 BILLION WE

WILL - BUY - HDG - REAL - ESTATE - FREE - APP

BUY - OTHERS - FURNISH - BEAUTIFULLY - SELL

4 - $1.00 - MUST - AUDITION - 4 - THEM - PLEASE

$500 BILLION - EACH - OUR - 2ND - WELCOME 2U

HDG - BANKS - COMING - ONLINE -

NON-FLAMMABLE - CASH - AND - 

NON-FLAMMABLE - DEBIT CARDS - 

NO - FEE - CREDIT - CARDS ALSO - 

FREE - CHECKING - FREE - DOUBLE - INSURANCE 

BLOCK - ILLEGAL - BUSINESS - LIKE - ROBINHOOD

BLOCK - RELATIVES - FR - STEALING - BY - MONEY

BY - ZELLE - JUST - CLICK - BLOCK - NO - NEED FOR

NEW - DISPUTES - CLAIMS - DEPARTMENT - GET - 

DOUBLE - ANY - AMOUNT - STOLEN - TAX - PAID - 

BLOCK - THE - MERCHANT - 0% - LIABILITY - SO - 

HDG - BANKS - COMING - ONLINE - NO - LIMITS

AS - DEPOSITS - NO - LIMITS - FOR - SPENDING

$0.00 - DOESN’T - CLOSE - ACCOUNT - FREE US

CHECKING - JESUS - IS - LORD AS HDG - BANKS

[aardvark-123]

I've decided to make a spirited attempt at video game blogging. (It was getting tricky to find time to record Orolinwethil's lines, now that she's living in New Zealand.) Without further ado, I present to you the Silver-Heart Chronicles.

~The Silver-Heart Chronicles Part 1: A Barrow for Golldir~

Yngvar Silver-Heart had joined the Stormcloak rebellion as a young man, and during his time at war he'd seen Windhelm and the eastern holds grow colder towards anyone who wasn't a Nord while Tamriel's political situation stayed exactly the same.

Yngvar gradually grew disillusioned with Ulfric and the whole "Skyrim belongs to the Nords" ethos, and so, after two long weeks, he quit the rebellion and moved back to his home village of Kynesgrove. Some might argue that Yngvar had "deserted", in response to which he argued that they could "get stuffed".

Yngvar's family had left Kynesgrove and their house had been repossessed by spriggans, so he became a semi-permanent resident in the Braidwood Inn. He made his living as an odd-job man, picking crops, mending houses and fetching frost salts for Dravynea, until one day Dotira the miner asked him for help.

Dotira's friend was missing, feared kidnapped by draugr near the ancient Hillgrund's Tomb. "This is it," Yngvar cried, leaping into action. "The perfect pretext to buy that crossbow I've had my eye on!"

The crossbow was an expensive piece of kit, but one that would surely be worth it. Yngvar left Kynesgrove with his pockets empty and his heart full of determination to find Doriselyn, then claim the favour Dotira would owe him.

Yngvar headed southwest across Eastmarch's famous volcanic tundra, the cold breeze ruffling his hair and carrying a faint smell of sulphur. The wind died down as he approached the river and wandered along the rocky bank, looking for a place to cross. All too soon a friend came out to meet him.

"Hmm... Tastes like salmon. I could probably make a potion of stamina from those," muttered Yngvar, nibbling on the bear's claws.

He carried on west past Mixwater Mill, finding only a few wild skeevers and a feral necromancer on the road. The necromancer was politely turned down when she offered to teach Yngvar how to make skeever slippers. Hillgrund's Tomb soon loomed in front of him, and inside the lobby waited an unexpected man.

"Offered to teach you the art of slipper-crafting as well, did she? I've never heard of anything so disgusting," Yngvar bantered. "Skeevers are obviously better as leg-warmers, opera gloves at a pinch, but never slippers! They don't have the durability for it."

Golldir explained politely that it was a different necromancer he meant. This was his (Golldir's) family tomb, but one Vals Veran had decided to help himself to the free dead people inside, and he (Golldir) had stayed behind while his aunt Agna (Agna) went to stop him (Vals).

Terrific, Yngvar thought. Still, I'll have a better chance of getting Doriselyn out of here with a partner... "Why, Golldir, I'd be delighted to help you! Lead the way."

Golldir led the way. His honoured ancestors were out in droves, driven into a frenzy by Vals's machinations, not that it takes much to drive a draugr into a frenzy on the best of days. Yngvar and Golldir cut their way through dozens of extended family members before they found a prisoner dressed in rags.

"Don't look now, Doriselyn, but I think there's someone behind you. Stay very, very still..."

"Problem solved!"

Doriselyn was more than a little annoyed at his treatment, and the thought of taking revenge on Vals was very tempting, so he joined Yngvar's fast-growing boy band as they descended further into the tomb. Yngvar scrounged up a set of draugr armour for Doriselyn, but he refused to wear it, saying it would clash with his beard.

Yngvar at least had the presence of mind to put some armour on. He wasn't sure his furry merchant's hat actually offered any protection, but it might keep any water from dripping on his head.

Further on, it seemed that Agna had sadly perished.

"Because you were scared? I know how that feels," Yngvar confided in Golldir. "The first time I ever faced a sabre cat, I nearly ruined a fine pair of breeches. Next time, though, I saw her coming for my axe-brother Ralof, so I ran her through without a moment's thought. Perhaps you'll save your other aunt from the next necromancer defiling one of your clan's old holdings."

"Is that how you try and help people feel better?!" sobbed Golldir, weeping over his aunt's motionless body.

"Er..." Yngvar looked at his feet. "It might be."

The ancient halls went deeper and further, past more enemies than just draugr. Watched by an aghast Golldir and a dispassionate Doriselyn, Yngvar took a moment to harvest the spider's venom before they carried on.

Vals was waiting in the deepest chamber of Hillgrund's Tomb, where the legendary Thane Hillgrund had been interred a thousand years ago with his pet spider in a cute little terrarium. Scoffing at the notion that dead people should be allowed some time to relax, he (Vals) called forth all the draugr in the chamber.

The fight was on. Fearsome mummified warriors attacked our heroes from all sides while Vals pelted them with sorcerous blasts, but Yngvar, his blade dripping with hastily-applied spider venom, beat a path through the enemy hordes to face him.

Sword met staff in a desperate duel, but when Yngvar drank his potion of vigorous healing Vals knew he had met his match. His head thumped down onto the floor, and as one the draugr sheathed their weapons and settled back down in their tombs.

The day was won, but at a terrible cost. Doriselyn had leapt in front of an arrow to protect Golldir, and without any armour to stop it, the arrow had pierced his courageous heart. Yngvar and Golldir wept for Doriselyn as they stuffed him into an unoccupied tomb.

It was dark when they got back to the lobby. Golldir was happy for Yngvar to stay for the night, especially since he'd brought a bottle of Honningbrew mead, and Yngvar was happy to oblige. They drank beside the fire and slept six feet apart because, while they were both gay, they weren't each other's types.

There were some glimmers of light. Golldir had the family tomb back, even if it had cost him an aunt, and Yngvar had helped himself to a new sword. Although it was dented and probably thousands of years old, it held an edge as sharp as his steel blade which burned with deadly cold.

After sharing breakfast and saying goodbye, Yngvar set off back to Kynesgrove. He didn't know what he was going to tell Dotira; nor, he realised, was there much chance of her giving him a reward. You won some and you lost some as an adventurer.

Kynesgrove was much as Yngvar remembered it, probably because he'd only been gone for a day. However, while he was selling a bunch of ancient weaponry to Throk the smith, a courier ran up to Yngvar and handed him a letter.

"In the name of Jarl Ulfric?" Yngvar bit his lip. "They know I'm here. Well, time to dye my hair and put on a strong Colovian accent. Dotira! Dotira, I need to borrow some of your war paint...!"

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[itsrattysworld]

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[quiestestwords]

excerpts from a composition book hidden away in a drawer

12/16/23:

"i feel like i'm running out of time and i'm NOT at all but god it feels like that i feel like i'm wasting my life doing fucking nothing and it sucks to be here doing nothing and having nothing to show for it and having no one in my corner"

"i love to act all cool and tough and like nothing bothers me and put my feelings in this tiny little box and put them away but it still fucking sucks that you're out having a good time on your anniversary date that i shouldn't have had shit to do with planning like be fucking for real it wasn't cool to having me har anything to do with setting that up and planning it with everything we're been talking about like as if you don't know i have feelings but i can't even blame you because i'm the one that acts like shit doesn't bother me but come on you have to know that sucks so bad but i still end up feeling guilty for not wanting to help you set it up and plan everything and i can't even say shit like this though because that's your whole life and your family and everything you've worked for and sacrificed for and earned and you really need to go out and have fun and enjoy yourself"

"i don't see a way out of it and i don't even want a way out of it because i decided this is good enough but how long can this be good enough for me???? and how long can the shit you're settling for be good enough for you?"

"i'm drunk and i'm so angry at myself for wanting you here and i'm angry at you for having a good time without me and for being so sweet to me anyways and if you asked to see me right now i would say no i want to be alone, and i don't know if that's even what i want or if im just trying to avoid you to like fucking punish you for shit you didn't even do and idk what else to even do it say but i'm being the bigger person and not saying a word"

12/18/23:

"i had a nightmare and i can't even tell you that because youre so fucked because your car got repossessed and idk what you're even going to do now and i can't even imagine the situation you're in it feels so far away from me like i can't help and i can't ask if you're ok and it's not my life and i need to take myself out of it"

"i was at your house last night and i didn't kiss you so there's that, i could've and i wanted to but it's the wrong thing. your life is not my life. i need to let it go. you're not ready to let go but i can feel you choosing him and your family and that's the right thing and i don't fit into it. i realized when i told you i had a bad dream and you didn't respond because your problems are so much realer and bigger than mine that your life is not my life. i also realized that i have no one else but you. you have people around you and you need them. i wish i had that. which is fucked. "

"you're not feeling super chatty that's fine. i'm not either. i don't have anything to say that you even slightly want to hear. it's not my place. i had a shit week and didn't want to talk and you didn't try to make me talk and that pissed me off. now you don't want to talk and that also pisses me off. how fucked up of me to be so selfish when you're going through so much shit."

"i miss sammy. i want to do better for my cats. i want to do better for you. i want to not care enough to even want to do better for you. i want to run away. i want to have someone other than you to talk to so that when i feel like this i don't have to poke at you and test you and try to figure out if you'll have the capacity to listen to my fake stupid problems on top of your own shit. i'll just stop trying. i'll talk to you here. i'll talk to deisy or something. i don't even want to talk to her. i don't want to isolate myself either. i want to be in your bed. i want to be held and i want to hold you"

"i'm feeling guilty. i don't belong in your bed. i'm guilty because i wish you weren't in this situation - for you and for me. why am i angry. i wish we were young again and that this played out differently. we would be best friends and lovers. that's not your life. it could be my life, but not with you. i wish it was easier. i wish i was better. i wish you were better. i wish i wanted someone other than you. i don't want to look for her. i dont think i know her. what am i supposed to do?"

12/28/23:

"i want you to hold me. i miss you. i wish i could be with you for real. you would treat me so good. i would be better for you. i miss you. please kiss me like you mean it. im tired of being alone"

"i dont want to play animal crossing anymore. i want you to text me back. i want you to say you want me. i want you to say youre on your way. please i need your help. i cant believe i cut myself today honestly. imma feel stupid tmrw. if i didnt wake up that would be ok. i wanna hold my cats. i wanna be held for once. please take care of me. i miss you. i love you. TALK TO ME"

1/16/24:

"i dont even want to talk anymore. it makes me uncomfortable idk. im afraid to say anything real. im gonna see you this weekend and im gonna want to kiss you and hold you. and i shouldnt and i wont because you're trying to fix your marriage. im gonna be alone with you and im gonna be reckless about it."

"im so drunk. i was drinking already when you texted me this isnt why im drinking but come on!!!! i want to know what youre doing right now. do you let him fuck you? im pissed off. dont do this to yourself. dont do this to me"