#the desire to not rock the boat in this game is understandable but not the right strategic decision

[scorpius-rising]

First playthrough of Suzerain, sent the country into depression, started a war and then got executed by the invading army 👍

[mylordshesacactus]

21 for the oc ask game,and congratulations!

Thank you! We've been pretty quiet about it on tumblr because it's been eating up 110% of our entire brains in every other part of our lives.

Very excited! But oh god the logistics leading in.

How does your OC handle relationships, platonic or otherwise? Do they forge bonds easily, or prefer to not get attached?

Benny is a deep classic romantic at heart. She's not terribly demonstrative with her feelings, but when she lets herself fall for someone, she falls fast and hard. She's prone to insecurities in her romantic life--she's ace and extremely sex-repulsed, sex is never going to be part of any of her romantic relationships, and that's a deal-breaker for a lot of people. She tends to hold back on letting herself fall for anyone if she's not...sure they mean it, when they say they understand what that means.

Rinda's courtship with her wife was deeply emotional and extremely quiet. They worked very, very well together in the field--with Rinda acting as her secret-keeper and sharing an intense mutual respect for one another's honor, courage, and kindness. Rinda saw how Talet acted around her apprentice-slash-ward, a traumatized young mage with debilitating anxiety and PTSD around using her own magic; Talet saw how Rinda handled herself, heard her talk about her kids and her late sister. They didn't make a move right away--but they kept in touch, arranged to work together again a few months later, and during a quiet moment in that adventure, they sat down and had the conversation they'd both known would need to happen.

It was a very honest, earnest, adult relationship from the start--tender beyond words, but not dramatic.

Rinda is much more demonstrative with her platonic relationships. She'll roughhouse with Talet's daughter, toss her own kids in the air, rib them and their respective partners; but with her wife, it's usually very quiet and soft and private.

Kite mostly-but-not-entirely left her family for ethical reasons, and is a walking disaster of a woman when it comes to romance. Mostly it's that she was.........it's kind of the gnollish equivalent of having been raised in a wealthy, very blandly American Protestant household. Nothing exciting, no crazy uncles dropping slurs at Thanksgiving dinner, but still very rigid in ways the family didn't even seem to notice. Gender roles enforced not by violence but by stifling homogeneity and constant very reasonable requests not to rock the boat or by persistent "confusion" and open discomfort and "concern" any time you deviate from an extremely narrow norm.

(The people who wholeheartedly believe that girls are just as good as boys! Girls can do anything boys can do! They would LOVE it if their little girl grew up to be a doctor or a scientist or a CEO or a cop! They say while equally cheerfully taking a toy horse out of their son's hands while explaining that no no sweetie, that's for girls, we'll get you a different one that's for boys instead? Flip the gendered expectations--gnolls are hyenas, so females are expected to be dominant and aggressive while males are meant to be submissive homemakers--and you've got Kite's family.)

So, she was raised in the privileged position in that kind of household. Her family wholeheartedly accepts and supports her being gay! But she herself was raised with....expectations for what romance looked like. She knows this about herself, that she's internalized a lot of normative bullshit, but that doesn't make it....easy, to stop being afraid.

Vulnerability is hard for her. She's the second-eldest daughter of a strong clan. She was meant to be strong, confident, desirable, her romance was meant to be her having her pick of any of the several pretty girls who'd be falling over themselves to catch her eye. She knows that's toxic and awful. She doesn't want it. But she doesn't....know how else to be. She's trying to learn.

[cassynite]

For the PWOTR asks: 4. What were the pivotal/defining moments in your KC's playthrough? 14. What is your KC's backstory? 15. What do they do after the game? Bonus question: how does their story/life end, if at all?

Aaaaah thanks so much for the ask! These questions were all really good (sorry it took so long to respond!)

4. What were the pivotal/defining moments in your KC's playthrough?

Becoming Knight Commander: Sparrow's motivations are forced to change at the beginning of Act 2. While dealing with Kenabres she's not considering herself a leader and side-eyes anyone who implies she is one. She has plans to get the fuck out as soon as the fires get put out once she learns that the artificer she came to Kenabres for is dead; she was going to be gone after the party at the end of act one, disappearing without a trace.

Galfrey inadvertently catches her before then, and while Sparrow thinks it's the silliest idea in the world to put a complete stranger in charge of an army, it's hard to say no to a queen who's been fighting demons longer than Sparrow's been alive. Sparrow doesn't want to rock the boat and furloughs her departure--she'll leave after she (somehow) takes Drezen, then after the issue with Wintersun is resolved, etc. But because she's actually good at the job (she has a strong mind for tactics and anticipating contingencies) she ends up doing very well; this, coupled with her growing powers, allows her to stop seeing the Crusade as a duty she needs to play along with until people's backs turn and she can slip out, and start feeling like a place she might be safe.

Daeran's birthday party conclusion: Sparrow is not a fan of Daeran early game--she's attracted to him, he pokes her buttons deliberately to try and gain a reaction (and often succeeds), and worst of all they'd crossed paths when she was pretending to be Evaethi in Mendev. He's a walking liability to her on so many fronts and if it weren't for his abilities making him such a powerhouse healer she would have avoided him like the plague. She would have fought on his behalf to let him go when Galfrey conscripted him if she'd had the spine to do so at the time. The fact that he turns out to be surprisingly hardworking and is capable of making her laugh is secondary to the fact that she's never sure just how serious he is about anything, if any of the kinder or more passionate aspects she's seen are just fronts, or if he's just making her into a joke.

His past makes Sparrow feel like she understands him a little better. She's able to identify how lonely and isolating the trauma of what he went through and the presence of the Other has made him, and she connects to that. It doesn't make her immediately turn around and like him, but it does make her more receptive to his gestures of friendship and, later, courtship. Daeran's romance can quite literally be described as life-changing for Sparrow but she never would have engaged with him if she hadn't learned about what had happened.

Being captured in Battlebliss: This was literally Sparrow's worst nightmare come to life. She had just clawed her way out of slavery, her powers and her new position finally affording her the ability to escape the chains she'd had on since she was eleven. To be collared again, with no obvious escape...she has a major, though brief, breakdown that not even the Hand can help her out of. It's not until Zeklex offers to help her escape that she's able to calm down a little and focus on breaking out. Still, even successfully breaking free leaves Sparrow cagey and uncertain; it is in its aftermath that the party learns about Sparrow's history as a slave and as a body double because she can no longer hide her reactions from them.

Choosing to remain an angel: Sparrow spends the majority of the game outright deferring to other people's opinions and desires, or pretending to follow along with what other people want to keep the peace. It's a struggle for her to openly say no to someone, and when she's standing between the patron goddess of the crusades and a demon lord, it really should be common sense which person in the argument she should be siding with. But she likes being an angel, she likes how her powers and her presence have a tangible positive impact, and she finally feels safe enough to begin to express herself. Choosing to follow with Nocticula's plans--with whatever Areelu wants--over Iomadae's warnings is kind of the final stand Sparrow needed to really start to learn how to exist as herself. If she can openly defy a goddess's wishes, she can say no to anyone.

Daeran's confession/proposal: Sparrow is all in on her feelings by the time the party gets yeeted into the Abyss, but she's never sure if Daeran feels as intensely as she does, or if he even would want to. The final show of trust that is Daeran's post-quest conversation solidifies things for Sparrow: this is it, he's not going to leave or run away or hide, what they have is permanent. He wants to marry her--she finally lets herself believe that she might get to keep this. It's basically the moment she allows herself to be happy without reservations.

14. What is your KC's backstory?

I tried not to write a novel...this was shortened three times I'm so sorry

Sparrow spent her early life in a cliffside house in Dehrukani where her older brother raised her. Her parents had disappeared so early in her life she no longer remembers them; she only knows that they were wildlife researchers who had gone on a trip that they never returned from. Her brother, Crow, was considered a child prodigy and was taught by an engineer from Alkenstar, and worked in Dehrukani designing various large-scale buildings and projects that implemented the crystals found commonly in the country. When Sparrow was about eleven, the two of them made a trip north to Alkenstar to visit Crow's old mentor, and are attacked on the way by slavers. Crow is left to bleed out on the side of the road and Sparrow is captured to be sold.

She was eventually purchased in Cheliax by Lord Gregoriath of House Arvanxi, a distant cousin of the main line in a house that has fallen out of favor with the queen. While House Arvanxi is currently seen as a laughingstock, Gregoriath anticipated the possibility of the crown coming down heavy on the family in time, especially if the current frivolous head of house was ever replaced with someone who had more political acumen. A man obsessed with his bloodline, he purchased Sparrow for the purposes of protecting his only heir, Evaethi--an aasimar girl with a passing resemblance to Sparrow. When he introduced her to the Chelish court later that year, he would instead present Sparrow, and would use her as a body double for Evaethi whenever it was convenient. The plan was to use Sparrow as a sponge for any possible assassination attempts until Gregoriath secured a politically stable or beneficial position for his daughter, and then swap them out so his daughter can continue his legacy.

Sparrow spends significant amounts of time learning the mannerisms and habits of Evaethi, expecting to dress like her, change her appearance to better match the young lady, and even answer to the name "Eva" at all times to avoid slip ups. She gains an education alongside Evaethi, learns history and art and politics and dance, and when Evaethi takes a passing interest in swordsmanship and then in magic, Sparrow becomes skilled in both. Deliberately isolated from other staff, Sparrow ends up spending most of her days at Evaethi's side and develops a feeling of kinship with her--two years younger, and sweet if very flighty, Evaethi treats Sparrow like an older sister she can bully with impunity but also with affection. Sparrow becomes protective of her.

Gregoriath is not a kind master or a kind father; he sees both girls as his property in one way or another. Evaethi also has the added misfortune of being wonderful on a horse but nowhere else, which draws her father's disappointment and ire. When, at fifteen, Gregoriath flies into a rage at Evaethi's antics that leave her in tears, Sparrow shares her private plans with Evaethi: the careful markings she'd made of the guard rotations in the household, the contacts she'd established in nearby Westcrown, and the money she'd ferreted away to disappear. They could run away together, and find somewhere where Gregoriath couldn't hurt them. They could be free.

Evaethi immediately tells her father of the escape plan, and Sparrow is punished, with a rune being embedded in her skin that allows Gregoriath to track her wherever she goes.

When Evaethi is nineteen and Sparrow twenty-one, she ends up volunscripted into going to Mendev as part of a political ploy in court, with Gregoriath remaining behind but making it clear he would be keeping tabs on his wayward daughter. He expects something useful to come from this, even if it has to be a marriage to some out of the way Mendevian noble. He'll come up with something; now that his original plans for Evaethi are dust, he'll find some use for her. On the way there, Evaethi leaves in the middle of the night with only a short note for Sparrow to find--she's done with Gregoriath's plans, so she's going to disappear and live a life of adventure.

Sparrow does not have the luxury of running off the same way, not with the tracking rune. So she adapts; she convinces the servants in the retinue not to immediately report Evaethi's departure, to slowly pay them off once they reached Nerosyan so they would disapper entirely. As soon as she steps foot in the country, she plays the part of Evaethi at all times; the Chelish nobility who were there for diplomatic purposes only ever met Sparrow if they had come across "Evaethi" at all, and she writes regular letters in Evaethi's handwriting to Gregoriath to keep him believing that she is doing her best to try and establish connections in Mendev. Meanwhile, she is frantically trying to find someone who can break the magic in the tracking rune, all while scraping aside enough money to pay off whoever she does find. It takes her two years, but eventually she has everything in place. She leaves messages for the remaining servants telling them they should probably run, gets together her funds, and sets off to Kenabres. Rest is history.

15. What do they do after the game? Bonus question: how does their story/life end, if at all?

Aaaah I'm not totally sure about this one yet! I've done playthroughs where Sparrow ascends and ones where she doesn't. I think both work for her character. If she ascends, I imagine she spends a lot of time using her powers to help heal the damage the Worldwound and the century-long war has caused on the land. Areelu would ascend with her and Sparrow has some feelings about it, but she also spends time with the woman when she isn't with Daeran. Beyond that, I think she becomes the kind of goddess that anyone who feels trapped, oppressed, or hopeless can call out to for aid.

If she doesn't ascend, she marries Daeran and becomes Countess Arendae, and spends most of her time in Drezen. Her desire to run away and disappear is gone now; Drezen is Her Place, and she works to make it somewhere where people can be safe, happy, and free to pursue their dreams. Drezen didn't declare independence during the Crusades but it was a near thing, and its new importance as a military and cultural center in Mendev means she ends up coming up at odds with Galfrey in Nerosyan often. Beyond that, I don't have a lot of concrete ideas; I do know that Daeran takes her on trips often, and they rarely are out of each other's company for any extended length of time.

[tooros1]

Exploring Bhubaneswar at Your Own Pace: The Ultimate Guide to Self-Drive Car Rentals with Tooros

Introduction:

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Conclusion:

Exploring Bhubaneswar with a self-drive car rental in Bhubaneswar from Tooros offers a unique and personalized travel experience. From the city's cultural landmarks to exciting day trips, Tooros empowers you to discover the beauty of Bhubaneswar and its surroundings on your own terms. Enjoy the convenience, flexibility, and safety that Tooros brings to your journey, making your visit to Bhubaneswar truly unforgettable.

[teacherintransition]

Too Much Time on My …mind(?)

Time for yourself is the key

A lot of time to reconfigure your universal reality. Oh great …homework

There is a band that originated from the Windy City during the early 70’s and named themselves after the river that leads lost souls to the underworld. I’m not a big fan, but in junior high, they had a song I really liked: “Too Much Time on My Hands.” Odd choice of a song to identify with because as a young person, there is not nearly enough time to do all of the “teenage/young adult” stuff one wants to do. Ah the perils of youth.

Down the road, when one moves past youth and the pressures of career and family, there will come the point when one considers to retire or not to retire. I did. Too much time on my hands becomes a desired state of mind; not a criticism from the workaholic, Puritan work ethic that leads to anxious, stressful mindsets unique to our nation. You’ve earned the rest …enjoy. Caution: if you have an overly active brain, the free time can be a roller coaster ride led only by the psychological whims of the ole gray matter. Not the obvious, “I’m getting closer to the end,” scourge of thought …though it’s there, or “what is my purpose” either. Those two concepts have been overly analyzed ad infinitum in these columns. No, I’m talking about the universal contemplations that occur with the unfettered, over thinking mind. I got me one of those.

Through my study of history and my casual observations of human behavior, I reached the conclusion that most humans adopt specific philosophies and behaviors, as one approaches middle age. Most folks become less open minded, more conservative, more nostalgic and pretty much settle on a dogma of how the universe operates with absolutely no questioning of said dogma. Shaking your fist at cars driving fast in your neighborhood soon follows. I get it. One doesn’t want the foundation of your belief system to be doubted during the golden years. I also understand, having grown up In the evangelical south, that staying the course is necessary to getting some real estate in a form of heaven, paradise …the eternal reward. I do get it …I’m just the black sheep in the family and never do anything the right way.

Around the age of thirty, my life turned upside down and my world, universal, spiritual views of understanding the world around me changed …significantly(?) For twenty five years, I’ve entertained a variety of studies that could help facilitate how any of this made sense to my understanding of what truth was and the innate wisdom of humans …us folks. This happens more often than we realize to so many of us; life gut punches us with tragedies, heartbreaks and situations beyond reason. Though reluctant to admit it, most of us question and doubt throughout our years. Different conclusions are determined or an unwavering commitment to specific dogmas are are more defiantly held onto; and the youthful state of mind of an open mind gives way to not hedging your bets …too late in the game to take risks. Black sheep here …

In my life I’ve gone from overworked, conservative, follow the rules, never question, church deacon, devoted family man to retired, middle aged, open to all possibilities, free spirited hippie dude; as my sons like to call me. Throughout this journey you’ve shared with me since August of 2020, I realized early on that the paths we’ve taken usually are sprinkled with bits of forced conformity, material accumulation of stuff, keeping up with the Jones’s and not rocking the boat. As mentioned, from the age of thirty, that wouldn’t be me; there was no going back. In my writings, I also happily acknowledged that everyone’s path through life was unique and despite mental, physical and spiritual restraints society places on us, we interpret the world with our own eyes to an extent. Fear of zigging when you should’ve zagged with the result of ending up in the bad place, curtails our childlike observation of all this life offers us to ponder.

Let me be clear, I’m speaking only for myself. With billions of years of existence and multiple billions of people who have lived throughout history, a single human is entitled to adopt any philosophy that puts them at peace. I’m simply suggesting to keep one’s mind and understanding open to the myriad of realities that exist. Even at middle age, don’t be afraid to see our existence from numerous points of view. Fear is the enemy of progress and robs us seeing all of the wonder of the world. It’s never too late to see this universe anew. I don’t know more than most people. I’m just one guy that questions and reconfigures how he sees reality. Or is it just me? <wink>

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

DnD Ideas for Fucked Up Items

I dunno if these are Real Things in game, but I think they'd be neat:

Cursed Flowerbed It lives in magical locations, feeding on tainted wild magic and presents itself to prey by showing an alluring flower or a herb/mushroom other item that someone is searching for. Mild psychic abilities. Will use pollen to sedate and detain prey, consuming the decaying corpse... unless hungry enough to start afresh. There's thorns under hte petals after all. Semi-sentient. Able to understand it can draw in More Prey if it leaves the current prey on display...

Carnivorous Quilt Found as spoils from a destroyed caravan or abandoned home. Will not eat immediately, but siphon blood and magical energy over time. Unless it is starving, then anyone foolish enough to sleep under it gets chomped. For extra nasty, it could be a Gifted Item. The effects will continue on the current owner or wearer, and the item is indestructable, unless the following conditions are met: a) someone gifts it to another, b) it is willingly accepted by another person, c) recovered as loot, or d) stolen. Which could have either very dramatic 'share the burden' possibilities for a group, or really fucked up potential.

Tweezers of Particulae look like regular tweezers, but can be used to either pluck your eyebrows, pulls splinters from fingers... or slip between the cracks of the universe to obtain an item smaller than a finger/lighter than (choose weight). Limited uses.

Gaudy Garrott A fetching hair ribbon that can transform, if given the right command, into an untraceable garrott for the ravishing rogue on the go.

Congealed Blade Like a blade, but made of congealed blood. Repels vampires, but needs a cold sheath (sheath sold separately) to avoid liquifying. Wielder would need to replenish the sword after some use re: erosion/wear and tear. For extra spicy, make it semi-sentient and able to invade subconscious of host, making them kill friends/party members for blood if necessary.

Spice of Life For the party that is perpetually out of funds, one might obtain the Spice of Life. A fascinating little salt shaker like object that has an unknown mixture inside that can make even a pile of leaves taste delectable with but a gentle sprinkle. DM's choice to make it infinite or finite.

Rockadile Crocodile, made of rock. Massive bloke, answers to 'George' or other name. Requires blood pact to play nice. Enjoys wrestling with master, so perhaps choose a brawny orc, or similar for the pact? If he is killed in battle, even with automatic stoneskin, the Master hits 0 life automatically.

Paddleboat A boat that, if the runes on the side are read, will entice a swirling vortex of storm above. Lightning will strike the boat up to four times, depending on desire of caster... boats provides a 50/50 chance of reviving a 0 lifepoints party member or heals serious injury. (Get it, like life paddles). If you fail your roll in the paddleboat, that counts as a fail towards the death saving throw.

Last Straw Want to start a town wide fight or disrupt an enemy camp? Simply walk into a crowded tavern, whisper the spell and snap this object in half (single use item). The Last Straw will send a wave of distress and anger/disquiet through the crowded persons (caster excluded) and start brawls over the smallest things.

Scroll of Wet Dream(s) Need to get an object from the bottom of the sea? No water breathing potions available? Well read this scroll, to yourself quietly or aloud like a bedtime story, and settle down to nap. The spell will allow your mind to wander through the depths of nearby water sources and even cast additional spells (since you can't touch physically), as it is not concentration. Limitation: 5 persons maximum. Amount of time decreased per person included (eg - 1 person = 5hrs, 5 person = 1hr). If not returned to the surface by end of spell, affected can drown.

[autopotion]

Ok inarticulate Transistor post about Red incoming.

I've half-jokingly given Red a lot of flack for her decision at the end of the game (to integrate herself into the Transistor to be with Mr. Nobody instead of using her godlike powers to restore the city) but tbh I do really like that character choice. Red is an interesting protagonist to me because, while we empathize with and are rooting for her, she is very selfishly motivated and afraid of rocking the boat. Doesn't seem that way at first because she's fairly assertive and is, uh, on a revenge quest, but she's seeking vengeance specifically because the things she loved about her old life--her voice, her partner--were taken from her. Totally understandable reason for a revenge quest IMO but while she expresses a lot of genuine sorrow and anger over the state of Cloudbank, she's not doing this for Cloudbank. She's doing this for herself and Mr. Nobody.

If you pay attention to her backstory & her actions during the game, Red is actually incredibly leery of change; she feels passionately about a lot of things, but she doesn't often give her ideas air because of the reactions they incite in other folks. After a fight broke out at a concert of hers because of an inflammatory song, instead of leaning into the power of her voice, she shied away from it and became reclusive. If you watch her formulate her forum replies in the OVC terminals, her first draft is always accusatory and impassioned, but she ends up censoring her true thoughts and feelings in the final post.

Idk I think this character flaw makes her interesting, three-dimensional, and ultimately incredibly sympathetic. Too often I feel like female protagonists in video games have to be the epitome of benevolence and self-sacrifice; even the grimdark edgy sadgirls aren't free of expectations of martyrdom and sacrificing their own desires for the greater good. While Red technically does "sacrifice" herself at the end, she doesn't do that for anyone but herself. She turns her back on whatever obligations she might have to Cloudbank and humanity, and chooses the only thing she wanted from the beginning, which is to be with her partner. There's no point in remaking this world if she can't be with the person she loves, etc

Also I think this makes her the perfect person to be at odds with the Camerata, who are all about change. Red's single-minded approach to what she wants makes the entire premise of the Camerata more sympathetic to the player I feel. Like she expresses a lot of pain and sadness about the loss of Cloudbank, whereas some of the Camerata (I'm thinking Royce specifically) are much less remorseful, but at the end of the day they would actually go the necessary lengths to restore the city, whereas Red wouldn't. Idk I just think that's a fascinating relationship for the protagonist to have with the antagonists. (I have an entire "Royce is Red's foil and they're incredibly alike" post in my head but I will spare everyone this.)

Look. The game opens with Red losing her voice. Her voice is her most inflammatory, change-inspiring trait, and she spends the entire game without it. She was never going to enact serious, lasting change to the city of Cloudbank. Her fate was sealed the moment she first appeared on screen.

Anyway I know I talk about the boys a lot but I really like Red. I love female characters in general who have this incredible power (whether physically/magically or because of their social station or both) but are hesitant to use it, to the point of making ambiguously immoral decisions just to avoid the consequences of their own power. It's more interesting to me than the #girlboss thing. Love the devastating sin of sloth, especially in characters who are otherwise assertive.

[starshipsofstarlord]

I feel, and it sucks

Pairings | Damon Salvatore x reader. Eric Northman x reader

Summary | after moving away from Mystic Falls, you finally return, and Damon is prepared to see you again. The only problem is, that you aren’t alone...

Warnings | includes angst, mentions of a breakup, sorta lead up to smut and mentions of it, blood play/kink, tiny bit of violence

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

He cared not for the lack of logic that ran through his mind. Not as he went towards your home, you had returned from your year long departure. Mystic Falls had been left in your rear view as you went to a place called Bon Temps.

As much as Damon wished to chase after you, he’d have crawled if he could, he respected your desire to leave everything behind, and move on. And that included him, the man that you had loved, and the one that was profusely enamoured in you.

But now, he had the opportunity to whisk you back into his immortal embrace, and forever be by your side, to protect you, and spend every waking moment with you. Stefan would call him sappy for his advances, but his brother’s opinion simply did not matter. He was so close to being happy again, and he couldn’t deny he was reeled in by the prospect.

Damon was eager to make you pancakes every morning, waking you up with the aroma of breakfast on a tray that he greeted you with in bed. Or even the simple excitement of watching your various expressions whilst reading twilight; ugh, he hated that book, but he would willingly endure its presence if that meant he could become wrapped up in you once more.

But he had to see you first, and get past that progression again. Whilst you had been gone, and in that other town, he had become lost. No amount of bourbon drinking, or hanging out with Ric, could fix his settled mood. He felt like a sinking stone, drowning in the deep end, and remaining on the bottom of the bed, until he was washed away, back to shore.

And your return had done just that; grounded him. He wouldn’t feign to admit his immediate reaction when he first found out you were to come back to your original home. First, he had been in utter disbelief, hardly taking Bonnie’s statement seriously when she informed him of the ordeal.

But then, she showed him the messages that had transacted between the pair of you, and how you were eager to see her again. Nothing of him was mentioned in the conversation, although he was sure that the witch and you had spoken over call sometime after your surprise reveal.

The lack of voicing of your prior breakup gave him some hope; you were willing to take him back. And that was a possibility that he safely held onto, finding it to be a net for him to fall down onto. However, the prospect of a net was like that of a rocking boat, it had an inability stay still when it held a weight, and that mass of pounds was him.

And he knew, as you left, the thought of you had attempted to pull you back, and force you to stay with the selfish power. But as the past had played out, you had not let it, and so you left him all alone, in the claws of the Grill, which was somewhere he found himself to be often in general, but more so after your transcending departure.

The curtains to your room swayed with the evening wind, and he found himself to be enticed by the sight of the open window. It hadn’t been an unusual occurrence for him to climb through the ajar square, and talk about your day, and thus, make it better by his simple appearance.

But, he was deceived. What a fool he had been to think that you had not moved on from little old him, for there was a tall legged man over the top of you, both of your chests bare, and your mouth viscously devouring the inclination of the others. You were oblivious to his accidentally snooping presence, too distracted by the estranged blonde that was now teasing his lips down your throat.

The sight had him freeze, but he was incapable of interrupting whence he watched the man’s teeth sink into the parting of the bottom of your neck and your warm shoulder. It was no man, instead, he was much like him; a vampire. There was a ample difference though, he would never hurt you.

To Damon, you were a treasure, not an edible treat. And it sparked a pulse of fear through his entirety as he watched you be drained by this vile creature. Perhaps he were a hypocrite, he had done the same to many people countless times, and still continued to do so. But the food was not being extracted by anyone, it was being pulled from your veins, and making its way into this stranger’s awaiting mouth.

You shut up as something, a familiar blur, came crashing against Eric, sending his form flying off from your own, the intruder and him ending up on the floor. To cover up and show some surprised decency, you pulled the sheet upon yourself, stretching your red printed neck to view the scene below.

Eric was recomposing himself, shooting immortal daggers towards the reckless, who was... “Damon?” Seeing him once more was inevitable, but the scene of it was a dread of yours. And here he was, in your bedroom, the circumstances with much difference than from what they used to be.

At the sound of his name, both the strapping vampires turned towards you with fixed frowns, both worn for their own reasonable purposes. Damon was studying you, and understanding the scene, now seeing that you had been open to the removal of your blood, and this stranger was with you in some kind of way that he was not a fan of.

And Eric’s, well, it was a combined factor of fury, that was directed at the raven haired and uninvited visitor, and confusion, as he attempted to put together pieces of the puzzle that he was missing. He presumed correctly that the two of you had previously known each other, and thus, his intrusion could be explained, or so he hoped.

There was a longing wrenching in his dead gut, that there was something more than a friendship between you and this Damon. He was far too well adversed with the tell of history, that the looks the pair of you were silently exchanging were anything but friendly.

From the get go, there was a smouldering charm that reflected out of Damon’s blue eyes, and your own showed a conflict of interests. But nevertheless, you straightened your back up against the headboard of the bed, and questioned him. “What are you doing here?”

The interrogative underlining to your voice stung like a bee, but the younger of the two vampires refrained from wincing. That would only show a weakness towards the new vamp in town, and that was not the aim of his game.

“Bonnie told me that you were back.” He thought it would be a simple and trouble free resolution, however, the other immortal presence in the room now told him otherwise. “And I thought this guy here was going to drain you dry? What’d you expect me to do, let some stranger kill you before I even have a chance to see you?!”

A prominent eye roll swayed from your foresight, and you cast a look to the other guy, as though you were talking silently with the newcomer. “He’s not a stranger, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Eric Northman.” He extended his hand frankly to your previous partner, attempting to draw a hateful truce between them. But instead, Damon whence he took the offer, attempted to squeeze the bejesus out of ‘Eric’s’ hand, which only ended in the result of his own bones being crushed.

That much informed him that this Northman was older, and that information alone served as a factual repercussion of him in turn being more powerful. This vampire wasn’t one to mess with, but who knew what he would do, after all, he was Damon Salvatore.

“Damon Salvatore.” He begrudgingly spoke through his clenched teeth, taking his broken and healing back into the safety of his side. “So, the boyfriend. Y/n, I thought you were done with relationships, more specifically, with vampires.”

“You sound like Caroline, bitching about my relationship choices. And the only sense that she spoke to me was to get out of this town and-“

“Shag another one of me.” He quirked his brow, and Eric breathed heavily. One thing he had picked up on, was that he didn’t like the way that this vampire was speaking to you. He was making digs, and making contradictions to all of your past statements. “I believe you even said that I would be the last one, and that isn’t in the same context. You wanted to spend forever with me y/n, not someone like this.”

“Listen here.” Eric hissed, prowling half naked towards Damon, his fangs slipping out from beneath his top lip. “I can see what’s happening here, you want her back. But it appears that she has moved on, so that is something that you’re going to have to suck up.”

“Suck up.” Damon childishly snorted, finding the pun hilarious in his state of mixed delirium. He felt everything, a sense of urgency to win you back, and great pain that was sinking into his age old skeleton. “I feel, and it sucks. But it’s fine, completely fine.” He waved his hand off, staring past the slim brute and finding a painful solace in staring at you. “No, he’s allowed to suck your blood, and what, you suck his dick in return?”

A shove sent him flying into the furthest wall, Eric holding him against it. “She’s mine.” It was a common description of a companionship between human and vampire. He had thought Sookie and Bill’s bond had been a foolish one, however, he met you, and his whole perception changed.

There was something about the collaboration of weakness and strength that worked so perfectly together. It was a true love, in rare occurrences . But the sheriff could feel that the myth was blooming in his own consideration. And he would not allow a young (in comparison to him), selfish specimen of his kind, ruin his chance at keeping that peace.

“She’ll never let you turn her.” Damon gulped, trying to look over the giant’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of you, whom was avidly watching the scene. “If you want forever with her, it will only last a minute, and it’ll kill you when she goes, because if you really love her, then I know it would to me too. She deserves to see the world in all her short life, to be treated like a queen, because she is one.”

Damon gulped, feeling guilty, knowing that as much as he wanted to give you that all, he couldn’t. He would not leave Mystic Falls, and that was what had ended your run in the end. His first priority, as admirable as that was, was to always shadow Stefan, and look out for his little brother.

But that gave him no life, which was exactly what you wanted with him. It didn’t matter if you were to one day become pruned and shrunken, the moment that you lived in was all you wanted. There were memorable tears held in your eyes, but you refused to allow a single one slip.

“Y/n has already agreed that one day, she will go through the change, for me.” Biting your lip, you could only imagine the dispersed appearance that struck Damon’s face. He had wanted forever with you, and instead, you had given it to someone else.

Slinking out from the shirtless man’s grip, Damon cautiously pushed Eric’s hands off him, walking to the window, and casting you a cold look. “I hope you enjoy forever y/n.”

And with that, he was gone in the night, presumably fleeing to annoy Matt until he drank half the bar. And thus, he was the one this time that departed instead, abandoning you, and leaving you in Eric’s claim.

[lhoughton]

JUNGLE CRUISE (2021) SENTENCE STARTERS.

* THESE SENTENCES CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR JUNGLE CRUISE,  CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK.  PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CHANGE ANY PRONOUNS, ETC.

“all legends are born in truth,” “the answer remains emphatically: no,” “you are not where you ought to be,” “it would make life so much simpler if more people paid in gold,”  “you think you’re the first to reject me? i have been been turned out of some of the best clubs in europe!” “should i be concerned about you?” “haven’t you been dreaming about another adventure?” “if i wanted to go to a primitive backwater where i can’t understand a word anyone’s saying, i’d visit our relatives in scotland,” “who’d look after you?” “first of all, let me congratulate you on your excellent choice of skipper,” “if you look to the left of the boat, you’ll see some very playful toucans. they’re playing their favorite game of beak wrestling. the only drawback is... only two can play.” “the rocks you see here on the river are sandstone... but some people just take them for granite,” “you know, before this, i used to work in an orange juice factory, but i got canned. couldn’t concentrate. yeah... they put the squeeze on me, too,” “some say that boa constrictor right there is capable of eating 500 pounds per sitting, but personally i find that very hard to swallow,” “can you please make him stop?” “know this about the jungle: everything you see wants to kill you. and can.” “this is the highlight of the tour, my favorite part of the jungle.” “it’s the eight wonder of the world, it’s the backside of water!” “any faster would damage my engine, and i can’t afford a new one,” “make sure you take care of __, he a good kid. looks ten but he secretly 47,” “let’s not start a fight with a monkey vendor,” “i think we’ve earned ourselves some nice lunch at the hotel, then a bath and a cocktail,” “what fresh hell is this?” “be quick or i’ll leave without you,” “oh, that option is becoming increasingly desirable,”  “i have an idea: please go away,” “i have a lot of money.” “you’re wearing pants.” “do women in england do that now?” “you can’t get there, nobody could get there — and if they could, they wouldn’t. it’s not a fun vacation.” “i’m not here for a vacation.” “i’ll show you some waterfalls. you look like you like waterfalls.” “i spent my childhood playtime with the toddler pickpockets of delhi,” “i look forward to disappointing you,” “i suppose it’s only a scam if you fall for it,” “thank you ___, i hope we never meet again,” “i’m the only one who could get you there,” “you are a lot of things that i don’t really care for,” “i assure you, every one of these items is entirely necessary for my survival,” “gosh, there’s a lot of you, isn’t there?” “how you doing, pants?” “you booked a river cruise and you can’t swim?” “i may or may not have something in my possession that may or may not be of interest to other interested parties,” “no, no, no. i am an excellent driver!” “my eyeballs are sweating,” “don’t look them directly in the eye unless you want nightmares for life,” “if you believe in legends, you should believe in curses, too,” “i had a girlfriend one, she was cross-eyed. didn’t work out. we could never see eye to eye. i’m also quite sure she was seeing someone on the side,” “oh my god, is that your idea of a joke? that is not funny,” “i’m not the one who can’t swim, pants,” “don’t you worry about that, skippy,” “i know you don’t know how to swim, so if you happen to drown out there, go ahead and use the soap to wash yourself ashore,” “if you think that you’re going to cut our trip short by starving us, let me tell you that that is extremely likely to work,” “you’re staring, how do i make it stop?” “you’re right, annoyingly,” “i drew everything i wanted to draw. then i figured i’d learn something new,” “i believe that the legend is real,” “just imagine the lives that could be saved. legend says one petal from the tree will heal anything. it will change medicine forever,” “it’s the beginning of a scientific revolution, it’s very exciting,” “you are deeply unpleasant,” “i don’t have to know someone to care,” “i don’t have to care about anybody, period,” “i just think if you’re lucky enough to have one person in this life to care about, then that’s world enough for me,” “is there a single thing about you that i can trust?” “since i consider myself of value, i will see you on the other side,” “you should give up,” “you should give up the guitar,” “that may be the first intelligent thing you’ve said since we met,” “i don’t know how you live with that woman,” “headfirst, figure it out on the way down. it should be on her crest in latin,” “___ says whatever she wants say, whenever she wants say it. no regard for anybody’s feelings.” “my interests happily lie... elsewhere,” “i would follow her into a volcano,” “you are like an onion of deceit,” “i don’t usually offend so immediately,” “we’re headed into headhunter territory, which is a terrible place to be headed,” “can i please talk for five minutes without you interrupting me?” “come on, you heard the nice cannibal,” “come on, fight me. come on, you, fight me.” “next time i’m gonna charge you more for this ‘ooga-booga’ nonsense,” “i have the tingling impression you want to negotiate a price,” “cross __ like that and you are dead to her. dead and buried.” “i’m gonna gonna be falling for any more of his ludicrous tricks. they’re getting really tedious,” “‘we’ is an interesting word. because it sort of implies a bond of trust and honesty... neither of which you know anything about, because you are a liar,” “i wouldn’t trust you as far as i could throw you, which clearly isn’t very far,”  “do you think i’m a fool? i think you must think i’m a fool,” “this is ridiculous. just leave me alone! that was a disaster!” “do you really believe we still have souls?” “you’re alive! how are you alive?” “i don’t care what you’ve done for me, if we make it out of here alive, i am never leaving ___ again.” “i told you last time, i am done pulling weapons out of you!” “would you like to bite down on my stick?” “i feel like you’re very uptight right now, and it’s not helping me because i’m very nervous,” “it’s okay to be nervous, it’s your first time. it is your first time, right?” “i can’t leave you alone out here,” “i will be fine, i promise,” “i was very concerned... for my expedition. and for you,” “i don’t know what i am anymore.” “i think you [are/were] a minor master of your time,” “there [is/was] no world for him without his daughter in it,” “i couldn’t be part of the madness,” “a brother’s blade cuts deepest,” “i made some friends... lost some friends.” “i built a boat,” “over the years i would find strays who needed someone,” “i don’t take lifts from strangers!” “do you know how many years people have been looking for that?” “stole it... liberated it, how about that?” “i’ve searched for this thing for so long, but i’m pretty sure it belongs to you,” “i get to make a choice... and i choose to rest,” “none of it has been meaningful,” “i cannot swim___! that is not something i can do!” “i have this very deep fear,” “i can’t do this without you. i need you. you have to trust me,” “are you wearing pants under your pants?” “i’m so sorry. i’m very scared,” “what is wrong with you?! how could you leave me?” “you could come to ___. i’m from ___, i could you show you,” “it shouldn’t be your choice, because you have very poor judgement!” “it could be that one person’s world enough,” “small chance i told a madman with a canon where to find you,” “at last, we finally meet,” “to put that tremendous power into the hands of the people would be madness,” “what do you think, muscles?” “here we go again,” “this is an amusingly familiar situation, no?” “royalty’s not to be trusted,” “tell ___ she would’ve been world enough for me,” “not exactly what i intended,” “he told me to tell you, you would have been world enough for him,” “oh, you are the most infuriating man i’ve ever met,” “i can’t believe you shot me,” “you’re both my world!” “i witnessed things not to be believed,” “this journey was unlike anything this society has ever seen,” “___ has asked me to respectfully decline your invitation on her behalf,” “you can take your invitation, and you can shove it up your association,” “ready for your first driving lesson?” “i hope you know what you’re getting yourself into here,” “oh, your jokes. they will be the death of me. they are absolutely exhausting.” “did you like it? are you proud?”

[zodiactherapist]

Advice for Unhealthy Libras

Advice for Unhealthy Libras

Advice for Unhealthy Libras

Now, I’m not saying she was unhealthy BECAUSE she was a Libra. She just grew up in an unhealthy environment, and just happened to BE a Libra.

1. Could not stand up for herself

She couldn’t return her wrong meal

She would cry if confronted about something serious

She would make me talk to her boyfriends seriously at the start of a serious relationship

2. Relationship obsessed

She would talk to numerous guys at once

She couldn’t go more than 2-3 weeks without dating someone

She would stay in unhealthy relationships

She would date someone new just cause “why not”

3. Attention wh’ore (Not really a whore people, I kid!)

She didn’t care who gave her attention

Would talk to some nasty guys who just would compliment her

Would dress provocative just for the attention

4. Self. In.Dul.Gent.

CONSTANTLY snacking on sweets

Again, would talk to any guy just for the attention

Would use social media allllll day

Male libra I knew (not saying you have to be a male to game, just what saying what I saw) would game all day, everyday

You guys are sweet, witty, silly, fun, peaceful, graceful, caring, understanding people I’ve ever met.

1. You guys are beyond sweet, and you really don’t like to rock the boat. You guys needs to understand that your feelings are valid too! You guys don’t share your deep and sensitive feelings, because you like to keep the peace (and do a damn good job at it)! What about keeping the peace in your own head, though? You guys are some of the absolute most caring people. You guys care about how the employee who messed up would feel if you confronted them, but it’s their job! Sometimes, you need to understand that if you try to keep the peace, eventually it’ll just lead to chaos within. Return that burger for the chicken sandwich you so deeply desire!

2. Ah, the sign of partnership. Sometimes, being alone isn’t all that bad. You guys make absolutely wonderful partners, since you are the sign of balance. You’re always wanting to dote on someone (sometimes as much as the sign Cancer)! You guys make wonderful partners, just remember that friendships are just as wonderful as a relationship, but in your case, sometimes it’s a relationshit. Remember, you guys are the partner of the zodiac, so save your loving for someone who loves you just as much as what you have to offer. Kick his ass to the curb if needed!

3. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a little attention. You guys are fun and whimsical people who naturally draw attention to yourself. Constantly wanting attention though, you might not be taken seriously when you actually need it! You guys are absolutely beautiful people, but you don’t need somebody to tell you that you are. Try telling yourself you’re beautiful in the mirror every morning. Leave yourself little sticky notes about how much you love yourself. With your natural grace, people will give you attention, no need to seek it out. 

4. Yes, sweets are delicious. Yes, gaming is fun. Yes, sex is always nice. A little too much of a good thing can lead to a tummy ache, head ache or unmeaningful sex. You guys push your deep sensitivies to the side and completely focus on something else. You guys have the deepest sensitivty, and people would benefit from you sharing it. Try not to ignore your feelings by distracting yourself with instant gratification. We would all benefit from your point of views on both sides and knowledgeable ways of thinking. Face those beautiful feelings!

You guys are sweet whimsical and I hope you know I understand.

Take care all Libras!

Stay whimsical!

[confetti-cupcake]

As promised, here’s an unedited sneak peek into Chapter 1 of my in-progress 9-1-1/Lone Star Survivor AU, Thirty-Nine Days, the video trailer of which can be found here. For anyone who doesn’t know, Survivor is a reality TV show where everyday people are stranded on a remote island. They’re divided into teams called “tribes” and have to work together to survive in the wilderness, compete in challenges and vote each other out. It requires a lot of strategy and duplicity, but it also bonds people in a pretty amazing way, and the winner gets awarded a million dollars. The fic bounces around to all the characters’ POVs at one point or another throughout the game, and this specific snippet is from Buck’s POV. Buddie is the fic’s main pairing, but Madney, Bathena, Tarlos and Judd/Grace are also featured. 

For context, this scene takes place at the start of Day 1 during the marooning. This is the opening challenge where the contestants run around on a boat, gathering supplies to help them survive, then get on their tribe’s raft and race the other tribe to shore or to another boat for a reward (in this case, a bag of rice). Here’s an example from the actual show, to get a sense of what it looks like. Hope you all enjoy, and feedback is always welcome!

“Get on the raft! Get on the raft! Come on!”

The first words Buck heard as he surfaced were ones of urgency. The last minute had been one of the most chaotic in his life — and that was saying a lot, considering the career he’d made out of running into burning buildings. 

He had stayed on the boat much longer than he had initially planned, having picked up a saw, a hammer, and a packet of nails, before turning back to retrieve an armful of watermelons. He had promptly tossed them each overboard as he found them, moving too fast to care if anyone down below was in the line of fire. It was a race after all, and one for food, at that. But as he glanced around the deck after launching the final melon into the water, it was clear most of his tribe had already abandoned ship. Not wanting to be left behind, he had thrown himself — some might say recklessly — over the starboard side of the ship. But he didn’t have time to think about his own safety, not with sustenance for his team on the line. And so he soon found himself splashing forcefully into the Fijian sea, completely submerged before coming up for air. 

Disoriented from the impact, Buck swam toward the first raft he saw, only to stop when he noticed the outfits of the castaways climbing aboard. Yellow tank tops, yellow flannels, a yellow hoodie. Yellow buffs around their necks and wrists and foreheads. He whirled around, desperate to find the right color over his competition cannonballing themselves overboard. Purple, purple… where are you, purple?

"Hey!"

“Over here!”

Buck lifted his head and peered to the right, struggling to tread water as the waves of the sea rolled toward him. A timber raft about eighty feet away on the other side of the ship floated in the water, and he could make out several figures standing up, waving their arms, flashes of purple fabric standing out against the horizon. Buck swam over, managing to dodge the battered fruit bobbing in the water. As he approached the raft, the figures came into focus.

A woman in a purple track suit with wide-rimmed glasses and big hoop earrings stood on the edge of the raft, and Buck reached out for her, hoping to get a lift aboard. She leaned down extending her hand, but toward another woman on their tribe, an entire water jug on the shoulder of her small frame as she struggled to stay afloat. He swam around her, reaching for the next person, a tall redhead, but she seemed more concerned with keeping the supplies balanced than lifting anybody up. 

Frustration setting in, he made a beeline to the tribe member next to her, desperate for any kind of help. The tribe member turned around, and Buck was suddenly face to face with a young guy, probably no more than a couple years older than Buck. 

The man locked eyes with him, and suddenly everything became hazy. The exhaustion was, of course, the most likely culprit. Time seemed to slow down, the havoc faded into the background and his teeming desperation melted away. His eyes were immediately drawn to the cursive tattoo inked around the man’s left forearm as he knelt down, reaching for Buck, and something about the action unleashed a ripple of familiarity and relief. His tribemate’s fingertips padded against the double ring tattoo similarly wrapped just above Buck’s elbow, and when he felt himself slipping, Buck felt no shame in holding on tighter. “I got you. I got you,” the man affirmed as he pulled Buck’s entire 6’2” frame up onto the raft.

“Thanks,” Buck said breathlessly when he was finally out of the water, crawling around the stack of supplies growing taller by the second. 

“Don’t sweat it.” The man ran a hand through his dark brown hair as he looked around the raft, eyes widening when they landed on the object he was searching for amongst the mess. “Here,” he said, pushing a paddle into his hands. “Get ready, I think we’re about to take off.” 

Buck nodded, but, either out of a weird sense of gratitude or the desire to experience this peace for just a bit longer, felt a sudden urge to prolong the interaction. “What’s your name?”

The man paused, eyebrows knit together, as if the question took him off guard. After a brief hesitation: “Eddie.”

“Buck.”

The look of intensity flickering in his soft brown eyes morphed briefly into an inquisitive expression before settling into a faint smile. His lips parted, as if to say something else, when another purple buff-wearer emerged from under the water. Eddie punched him on the shoulder lightly before turning around to pull the person out. Buck’s momentary bubble of repose had popped, leaving him at the mercy of his frenzied surroundings once again. 

Most notable was a physical-looking, middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, who brushed by him on the way to the back of the raft. Buck immediately noticed the machete in hand, and the all-too-familiar LAFD shirt on his back. 

The man grabbed the rope holding the raft to the boat, turning back around to scan the structure. “How many do we have?” he called out.

Buck surveyed his tribemates, finding it difficult to track the absolute mayhem happening around him. He spotted a stocky blonde woman in front, sliding back in to grab a cooking pot that had begun to float away. One. Eddie —  two — who had probably served in the military if the shirt he was wearing was any indication, pulled another young woman dressed for a day at the office out of the water, making it a tighter squeeze aboard. Three. A bundle of firewood rolled off their pile of supplies back into the water, and a woman treading water nearby snatched it up. Four. Buck reached down to grab the bundle from her — wait, nope, that person was on the other tribe, judging by the yellow buff wrapped around her tight, curly hair. And… he had already lost count. It was too early for his brain to do math, he concluded.   

“We have nine by my count,” the woman with the hoop earrings piped up. The man grimaced and began scanning the water for their missing tribemate, prompting Buck and the others to do the same, until a shrill voice traveled over the chaos.   

“Wait for me, guys!” 

Buck whipped his head toward the barge, just in time to see a shorter, Korean man jump from the ship, bushel of coconuts in hand, resulting in a violent splash that rocked the raft.

“Get up here, man! Nice of you to finally join us!” firefighter number two yelled jokingly, still holding onto the rope. The way he naturally seemed to take charge combined with his jovial attitude reminded him of his fire captain back home, so he decided he’d call this guy “Cap” in his head until he learnt his name. 

Buck grabbed the floating coconuts before they could be pilfered and set them down on top of their stack of loot, while Eddie once again lifted up their man overboard. Before he knew it, Cap had already chopped through the rope and set sail toward the barge.

As Cap started a rhythmic “Row!” chant, which made him feel like he was less on Survivor and more on the college crew team, Buck glanced toward the yellow tribe’s raft in curiosity. They had just found their machete and were also on the verge of breaking away. He squinted at the women, who were slowly fading out of view, and thought back to the brief chat they had with Jeff before the marooning. He wracked his memory, suddenly unable to tell if his eyes were deceiving him. Was it her? Nah, couldn’t be…

A large hand suddenly clasped his shoulder. He turned around to see Cap wearing a stern expression, no doubt reserved for him. A look that was also not unlike his fire captain’s back home.

“Kid, I need you to row. You can look at the other tribe later. We can’t have them catching up.”

Buck narrowed his eyes, but submerged the oar into the water and rowed with all his might, keeping time with his tribemates. But as coordinated as they seemed, the yellow tribe was gaining… and gaining… and gaining, until they were suddenly within ten yards.

One glance at his own raft was enough to understand why. The precariously-stacked mountain of supplies in the center of the raft was slowly losing its integrity, with coconuts and fish traps and Buck’s watermelons — which were looking rough at this point — rolling off the top toward the ocean, forcing his tribemates on the other side to forgo their paddles to keep everything aboard. A collapse was imminent, and to make matters worse, the raft was beginning to stray off-course. 

The poor woman with shoulder-length blonde hair sitting in front of Eddie was taking the brunt of it, struggling to fend off the falling objects and row at the same time. Buck pitied her for more reasons than one. She had probably done something to piss off production, given she was thrown into the game wearing a power suit, instead of the more camping-appropriate attire the rest of them had been assigned to wear. She stuck out, but she was sure as hell making it work for her, and Buck had to scold himself to focus on the task at hand.

“We’re tilting guys, we’re tilting!” Cap called out to the tribe. “Let’s straighten out.” 

Everybody stopped paddling all at once. Buck wasn’t sure if it was due to the abrupt absence of movement or a current that had come out of nowhere, but their tower of supplies suddenly gave way with an ugly snap, sending the rest of the heavy crates tumbling down and knocking Power Suit Girl straight into the water.

It had never been clearer that the cast was rife with seasoned first responders, as not a moment was lost to panic. Like a well-oiled machine, half of the tribe leant over the water’s edge in an attempt to pull her back up, while the other half scrambled to salvage as many of the lost objects as they could. But as quickly as the rescue mission was set into motion, the raft’s pursuit of the barge came to a screeching halt. 

Another violent splash cut through the commotion, and Buck whipped his head in the direction of the Matagi raft. The woman wearing a hijab on the other tribe had jumped in, tearing through the water toward the barge, egged on by the cheers of her tribemates.

Buck didn’t take a second to think. He threw the paddle aside, staggered to his feet, and dove in. Head first.

Tagging my fellow Survivor fans: @ashavahishta @wolvesofinnistrad @loveyourownsmiilee @halsteadsass @browney3dgirl6 @phonotactless @no-moremusic @pennykent

[spectrumed]

10. contact

The key to success is networking. Oh, God, how am I ever going to succeed? Networking? Talking to other people? Making friends? That’s not me, that’s not me at all. I don’t want to make superficial connections with other people just so that I can one day use my connections to get ahead in life. I don’t want to force myself on others, trying to convince them that I am some decent guy that’s totally worth getting to know and be friends with. I don’t know if you’re going to like me or not. I imagine some people would like to be my friend, and I imagine some people would hate to be my friend. I’d rather just forget about the latter group, and not torture myself trying to make friends with people who are fundamentally at odds who I am as a person. I’d rather have a small circle of close friends than a thousand acquaintances. But the key to success is networking.

I’ll never be an insider. This is not me just doubting myself, not some decision to undermine myself. I know that making statements about things that are impossible for you to achieve comes across as very self-defeating, but I know that I will never be an insider. I will never fit into a social clique. I am not going to be part of the boys’ club, yucking it up with my mates. I’m not going to be in any gangs, no bands, most certainly no crews. I am a solo-player. I prefer to work on my own. All my life, I’ve kept to myself, one way or another. I don’t ask for help. Growing up, my sister used to get a lot of help from my mother with school assignments, because she wanted it and she asked for it. My sister and my mother would spend a lot of time together making sure that my sister’s schoolwork turned out well. Looking over spelling, fixing grammatical errors, making sure that the text was easy to read and had a flow to it. Normal parental stuff, really. Kids are supposed to get help from their parents, it’s part of the learning process, no-one gets by all on their own. Well, except for me. I never asked for help.

I actually found it really unbearable to have my mother look over my schoolwork to see if I made any errors. Not because I am such a horrid narcissist that I refuse to admit that there were any errors, but rather because… well, it felt invasive. Like as if you spot someone spying on you through your window. It made me feel very self-conscious, in a way that I realise now is similar to how I feel when I make eye contact. Yes, I am bad at making eye contact, especially when I am speaking at the same time. I don’t mind making eye contact when you are speaking, but I don’t want to make eye contact with you when I am speaking. Is that funny? Is that odd? Well, the way I feel about it is that eye contact is intimate, it’s almost like touching. It’s mental touching. If you share eye contact with somebody you are sharing a connection. You are mind-touching each other. Oh, well… I guess that maybe it’s not quite like that, but I still don’t find it easy.

At times, I find much of the discussions about neurodiversity online somewhat off-putting. Especially when it comes to those people who are really keen on being all out positive, all the time. Those people who see any shade of negativity as outright hazardous. Don’t bring up the fact that being neurodivergent can be difficult, don’t mention the difficulties that come with being on the autism spectrum. Engage with self-empowerment! Celebrate what makes you different! Go out there and be proud of yourself, be happy about your autism, it is cool to be autistic! And, sure, I understand the importance of injecting optimism into the neurodivergent community. We need optimism, we need to profess our desire to be happy, to show the world that you don’t need to be neurotypical to be content with your life. No-one wants to be around a sourpuss just wallowing in their discontentment. But, sometimes things just suck, okay? Having a positive attitude may project confidence, may make others think you’ve got it together, but be wary when that positive attitude just becomes a mask you hide behind.

Look, we live in a society. Whether you like it or not, you live in a society. We need to rage against this society, because this society is no good. Things may look good to some people, but those people are wrong, and I am right. I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore! Let’s have ourselves a little revolution and see if we can piece a new society together, one that doesn’t commit to the same mistakes as the last one. Oh, wait, how do we do that? And how do we make sure that we win the revolution, we could easily lose, and that might actually just make things worse for us. What if this society we live in got even worse? Yikes, that’s a thought too scary to even really consider. Can things get worse? I don’t want things to get worse. Maybe I just shouldn’t rock the boat. Let’s calm down, and let’s not make any rash decisions here. We can overthrow society at some other point. For now, let’s just have some tea.

Yes, society stinks, but what can you do about it? It is absolutely the case that neurotypical people have it easier navigating modern society than neurodivergent people. Others expect you to function just like they function. If you wish to fit in, you are required to act more neurotypical. People expect that from you. Learn to adapt, to hide amongst them. Trick them. Make them think you are one of them. Be the wolf in sheep’s clothing. They’ll never know the truth of who you are. An outsider that managed to get on the inside. You stand by the watercooler, and by gosh, you make yourself laugh at their jokes even though you’d rather not be there at all. You partake in the small talk, talking about the weather, feigning interest in the footballs, and pretending to be an all-around wholesome compatriot. You’re not at all secretly some kind of anti-social misfit, who’d rather stay at home sitting behind a monitor and playing strategy games on your own. Do you want to come and join your workmates for a drink or two later? Oh, yes, of course you’d like that, but you might need to limit your alcohol intake so that you don’t get too drunk and begin to let the mask slip. It’s too easy getting into hyper-specific rants about obscure topics no normal person would care about when you’re inebriated, so let’s not risk that.

“Be yourself.” Pfth, bah, humbug. Neurotypicals love to state empty platitudes. You don’t want me to be myself. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t want me to be myself. Call me a cynic all you want, but you can’t get nowhere in life simply by being yourself. For better or worse, authenticity is nowhere near as desired as some people make it out to be. Name a single really successful person who is truly themselves. Fake-authenticity does better than the real deal. True sincerity, of the kind that’s naked, shameless, ugly, and challenging, it is difficult to love. And that’s not all bad, it’s just a fact of life. We all need to cover some things about ourselves up, and need to keep some secrets, because that is what is expected from us. Just as we wear clothes to cover up our naked bodies. No shame on the nudists, they’re free to embrace whatever alternative lifestyle they want, but I don’t want to see your naked body. Don’t get nude in front of me. I already struggle with eye contact, I sure wouldn’t struggle less if you stood in front of me nude as well.

Actually, to a certain extent, these social rules we all conform to can actually be quite appreciated by those of us who are on the spectrum. It is easier to know what you must do in a formal social situation than in a casual social situation. Casual people, they’re just so… unpredictable. Sticking their casual bits everywhere, acting like guests at your house who don’t seem to understand that your home is not their home. Even as a kid I hated having friends of mine over at my place. They’d play with my toys, place my toys where they don’t belong, or even worse, they may break some of my toys. Don’t touch that, it’s mine. Don’t put your icky hands on my bed, I sleep there. Don’t rip pages out of that book, it’s my favourite book. Don’t breathe in my room, I breathe in my room. I just can’t handle you coming here and disturbing the peace. I had it all ordered, I knew where everything was, and I liked it. Now you brought with you the forces of chaos, and dealing with that is just now what I had in mind for today.

I could never be a freemason. Sure, I have some good ideas for how to secretly rule the world, but if you’re a freemason, you’re expected to be part of the team. There’s no “I” in freemasonry. The secret cabal that controls all of the world’s governments, they don’t want independent folks like me to show up thinking that I can do my work assignments on my own. The Illuminati is run by a committee. You don’t get far in that world by being some freewheeling bohemian incapable of getting along with others. You don’t establish a New World Order by promoting self-reliance. Institutions are great for those who like to get chummy with their pals, the gregarious sorts who know exactly who to talk to in order to advance in the ranks. You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. Favours for favours. One of the reasons why I inherently distrust many institutions is because they are rife with nepotism. You know that whoever gets to sit on the high council of the Illuminati didn’t get there via competency alone. No, they knew a guy, who was cousins with this other guy, who used to work for this guy, and y’know, you pull one string and suddenly there you are on top of the social hierarchy. Most often people get promoted, not because they do good work, but because they happen to know the right people. But again, maybe I’m just being cynical.

I’ve had a recurring fantasy, in the past, of being a lighthouse keeper. Living out somewhere all on my own, not having to deal with any human relationships. Maybe I could befriend a seagull, but even that seems a little too much. Seagulls can be very needy. No, I’d just get on with whatever I’d most like to be doing, writing or making art, just enjoying my solitude. I imagine that the toughest thing about being a lighthouse keeper is the loneliness, but the loneliness is only a plus for me. I’ve long ago decided to like being lonely. I don’t want to face the fact that I too yearn for company, I like to pretend as if I am fine with being alone. So the fantasy of being a lighthouse keeper is perfect for me, I could get far away from society and I could earn a living not having to give a fuck about what others think about me. I could allow myself to get as weird as I would want to get, not having to wash my image, acting like I’m all rational and well-adjusted. It would just be me and my seagull. How simple life would be. Too bad I think most lighthouses are automated, these days.

Maybe being the perpetual malcontent cynic incapable of fitting with mainstream society isn’t all so bad. In some regards, I have made that my brand. Generally, I like to think that I don’t take myself too seriously, but like a lot of people, I’ve turned those edgier parts of my personality into armour that I wear to protect myself from the scorn of others. You can’t accuse me of being a miserable piece of shit when I’ve decided to make being a miserable piece of shit my thing. It’s what I am, and I am not going to change. I’m not really all that mean, or nasty. I am fairly cynical, but I don’t act like some asshole. I don’t think anyone is upset with me for how I act. I’ve only occasionally gotten told off for being too gloomy. But the problem here does not lie with how I end up treating others, but rather how I end up treating myself. I don’t want to make cynicism part of my sense of self. I don’t want to be this person, this misanthrope who only sees problems, and never celebrates the good things in life. I should engage with self-empowerment. I should be happy.

It’s okay being neurodivergent! Sure, you may find other people strange or foreign, with their yapping mouths and their over-eager desire to look you directly in the eyes, but just ignore them! Neurotypicals are just so last century, the future is all neurodivergent! You’re on the right side of history, bud! You’re cool, and radical, and you’re absolutely a sexy little cupcake. You either learn to love yourself, or you lose yourself. Make funny memes, find some online community to be a part of. You can absolutely be a freemason if you want to be a freemason. Don’t let your diagnosis get in your way, so long as you’ve got that inner fire driving you, you can be anything you want to be. Go ahead and rule the world, babe. Remember, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, and right now, it’s good vibes only.

[astrology-india]

How to Cope When a Libra Man Ignores You

New Post has been published on https://www.astrology-india.com/when-a-libra-man-ignores-you/

How to Cope When a Libra Man Ignores You

You are probably wondering why the Libra man who swooped in to charm your socks off is now nowhere to be found?

It may surprise you that it is not an uncommon theme for the Libra, nor is it necessarily the death of your relationship with him either, especially if you know what to do when a Libra man ignores you.

When a Libra Man Ignores You?

What happened to your Libra man? The one who seemed easygoing and so much fun? Why is he suddenly serious and distant now?

It does not make a whole lot of sense, but when you understand the Libra man, it is a little less confusing.

He is Flimsy

The Libra man comes across as dominant, yet at the same time soft and sweet. He is masculine while being strangely in touch with his feminine side.

By all accounts, you would expect him to be someone who you can rely on, a strong-willed guy who will stand his ground and stick to his guns.

And he can be that man, however, one negative aspect of Libra is that he can also be unreliable and indecisive.

The guy might have no idea what it is that he wants in the first place, making it impossible for him to stick to anything. If he is that type of Libra, then you can bet that he flip-flops in most of his relationships.

This is not all bad news. Most Libra men who pull the disappearing act really just need some time to work things out.

What it Means When a Libra Man Stops Trying

It means something is missing from the relationship, and that something could be the main thing he needs in order to have a purpose in life as a man.

It is a deep emotional obsession that most men have but rarely talks openly about. Unless they have a Ph.D. in male psychology and masculinity needs.

This emotion in a Libra man is overlooked by most women because they don’t understand it until it is sometimes too late. Once you know about it, it’s really simple to use it to your advantage.

If you want your guy to show you love and the attention you deserve, you need to hook into the underlying reason which is explained in a video by relationship expert James Bauer entitled His Secret Obsession.

You Hurt His Feelings

Libra is not a sensitive, over-emotional sign by any means. The man is rational and shoots straight from the hip. This is strange because when he gets hurt it could seem just the opposite.

The Libra man does not forget, nor does he forgive that easily. In this sense, he is the Scorpio of air signs, only less vengeful. Mostly, you will never even know that he is upset or what it was exactly that you have done.

The Libra man is usually highly diplomatic and prefers not to rock the boat. So, if you did something to upset him, he will deal with it passively, like ignoring you for example.

Your Libra Man is Busy

Libra deals with balance in all aspects, and his life’s theme is to learn the art of it. It only makes sense then that Libra is a sign of self-improvement.

Believe it or not, this can take up a lot of his time and also lead him to distance himself from others on occasion to focus.

Sometimes his need to recalibrate and improve is his own fault. His indecisiveness, procrastination, and tendency to indulge often knock things out of whack for him, then it becomes his mission to fix it.

His other extreme is to socialize and have fun 100 percent of the time. Either way, the Libra man knows how to keep himself busy.

It Is a Surface Level Attraction

Libras are connoisseurs of everything beautiful. They are highly aesthetic beings who love the world of art and comfort and pleasant surroundings.

But this overindulgence in what is visually pleasing gets him into trouble as far as his relationships are concerned.

He is attracted to people with physical beauty and sometimes he fails to see beneath the skin.

If this is the reason for your Libra man’s sudden disappearance, it does not mean necessarily that he does not like you or your personality. Perhaps he never gave himself the chance to know you in the first place.

He is not Interested

One of the great tragedies of our existence is that love is not always reciprocated. Just when we swear we have met the one, reality slaps us in the face as we watch him heading for the front door.

Libra men have their types, sometimes that type is himself. But like any sign, there are people with astrological differences who we cannot seem to relate to no matter how hard we try.

Sometimes our zodiac opposites can seem like they are from Mars and speak a different language.

If you want to give it all you’ve got to make it work with a Libra man, you have to understand this “greater” emotion that he needs satisfying.

It’s an obsession he can’t explain but provides the key to his heart when a woman understands how to unlock His Secret Obsession here.

How to Get a Libra Man to Stop Ignoring You

Sometimes your Libra guy just needs a wake-up call to get him to stop ignoring you. Ring his alarm by trying some of the tips out below.

Talk to Your Libra

Talk to your Libra man because the Libra male appreciates honesty.

Even though you are upset with him for bailing on you, and probably will not believe this, but he is fair, just, and strives to do what is right.

He can however be a little self-absorbed without even realizing it and maybe is unaware of his actions or their consequences.

It is important not to accuse him or engage him in a war of words. This will upset the diplomatic Libra who will only take so much of conflict before he shies away.

Send Him Flirty Text Messages

The Libra man approaches flirting like a sport, one in which he is a skilled master. It is truly an art form for him and he sees it as a dance- a push and pull, or a back and forth.

This dance heats things up by building attraction and passion, even more so if you can give him a run for his money.

Shoot your guy a flirty text, but make sure you bring your A-game. Be smart, witty, challenging, and most of all, fun.

If you would like a little help with the phrases you can text that trigger his mental G Spot and activate his subconscious desires for you, I can recommend Text Chemistry by relationship guru Amy North.

Help Him to See the Good You Bring to His Life

This can be done in a bunch of subtle ways, or you can go all out and be blatant and straightforward, whichever suits you best.

What is important is that you can get the point across without looking like it is what you are trying to do.

If he can see you are someone who adds value to his life – more specifically, that you help bring balance and harmony to it – he might just recognize you as a good choice for him, almost like you make him feel complete.

Brush Up on His Interests

The Libra man loves to talk and connect with others. What better way to do so with someone than to have common ground? For instance, something that he is passionate about?

Get your Libra man going again by showing him you can hold your own in a conversation about his interests, and a bonus if you are a good listener because we all know that he needs one.

Be Patient

Whether your Libra guy has left to go work on himself, hang out with other people, or he is trying to make up his mind about the relationship, the best thing you can do is to be patient with him.

I know, this one can seem difficult, and it might not be what you wanted to hear. But Libra is represented by the scales of justice and the scales must tip. When he regains his balance and direction, they might just tip in your favor.

Final Thoughts

How the Libra man can go from the life of the party, the charming guy who stole your heart, to be like a ghost is straight-up baffling to those unequipped with the knowledge of his inner workings.

By understanding, this “greater” thing he desires in a relationship you will secure his love and devotion. Become the only woman he ever wants. This video explains exactly how to do it.

Once you understand why your honey is M.I.A., it is a lot easier to know what to do when a Libra man ignores you so you can get him to stop once and for all.

[moveslikebucky]

IT’S FINALLY FINISHED Y’ALL

After leaving it sitting for almost six months, coming back and extensively rewriting the first two chapters, and making myself a posting schedule that threatened to bite me in the ass the whole time, the Raiders of the Lost Ark/Good Omens Fusion is FINALLY FINISHED!

In this chapter:  Hijinks at sea!  Subterfuge in a secret base!  Holy relics more powerful than human understanding!  Aziraphale finds a grenade!  And happy endings are the name of the game <3

I’m here with my usual nonsense but I'm thanking much more people this time, @narumikaiko for the wonderful beta work, @yamisnuffles for the art that led to this existing, @luritto for the britpicking, and @cassieoh for the absolutely stunning art in this last chapter (which I am still crying about).  There are so many of y’all I wanna ping in this for cheering me on, y’all know who you are, and you know that I love y’all so very very much.

And so, an excerpt, with a link to the fic at the bottom:

---

The Bantu Wind, the next morning

It’s not the sunlight through the porthole that wakes him up.  Not the gentle rocking of the boat on the waves.  Not Crowley coiled around him like the snake he is, nuzzling into his neck and mumbling in his sleep.18

It’s a lack of sound, actually.  The engines that had hummed on throughout the journey have stopped completely in the morning light, which is very unusual.  

With more than a little difficulty (partly from how clingy Crowley is, partly from just not wanting to leave) he extracts himself from the demon’s embrace.  Crowley sleepily reaches for him, not yet cognizant of the world around them.  His hand lands on Aziraphale’s pillow from the night before, and he pulls it to his chest and buries his face in it.  It’s endearing as anything and makes Aziraphale want to climb back into the bed and wrap Crowley up in his arms, maybe stay that way for a few weeks.

It can’t last though, this thing they’ve started.  No, once this is over and they’re back in London they’ll have to go their separate ways.  This would be considered treason by either side, and the punishment for that would be a world without the other.  Death for them both, most likely.  No, best to move on from it.  

Aziraphale pulls his clothes back on and watches Crowley sleep for just a moment.  Watches the sunlight streak across his pale skin, watches the rise and fall of his breathing as he nuzzles closer into the pillow.  He commits it to memory, all of it.  No matter how many centuries go by, Aziraphale will never forget how it felt to kiss Crowley and to hold him tight.  To wake up wrapped in his arms.

Angels are not supposed to want.  Angels are not supposed to have this single-minded love for one being above others, unless that being is God Herself.  It’s against everything in his nature to feel the way he does.  But his heart aches with it.  This want to love and to be loved, the way humans do.  The desire to have that with Crowley .

Crowley starts to stir and Aziraphale quickly looks away, busying himself gathering up his odds and ends into his satchel.

“What’s going on?” Crowley mumbles from the bunk.  Aziraphale looks back to him.  He’s blinking slowly, eyes fully yellow in the early morning haze, glowing in the shadow of the sun through the window.  He’s still holding on to the pillow, and he’s staring at Aziraphale so openly and so lovingly that the angel feels his corporation might just give out.

“Engines have stopped,” Aziraphale says, schooling his face and looking away, “I’m going to go speak with Katanga, see what’s going on.”

Crowley perches himself on the edge of the bed and reaches for Aziraphale’s hand.  Despite his better judgment, Aziraphale lets himself be pulled back over and into an embrace.

“What’s this for?” Aziraphale hears his voice waver as he asks.  He’s not ready for this conversation, not quite so soon.

“Just because I can,” Crowley says, breathing in deeply.  

“Crowley, we shouldn’t…” He can feel the sting at the corner of his eyes as he trails off, not wanting to finish the sentence.  Wanting Crowley to insist for once, just this once, on what he knows the demon wants.

“You’re right,” Crowley whispers into his shirt, breath warm against Aziraphale’s skin through the cotton.  That’s not what he’d wanted to hear.  He wanted pushback, wanted Crowley to shout at him, to push him into doing what he should be brave enough to do on his own.

Crowley looks up at him, hurt evident on his face, but he doesn’t push.  Aziraphale runs his hand gently through Crowley’s hair, pushing it back off his face, trailing his fingertips slowly.  Crowley leans into the touch, savoring it.  

“You understand,” Aziraphale pleads in a whisper, “please tell me you understand.”

Crowley locks his eyes with Aziraphale as he turns and kisses the angel’s palm, “yeah, angel.  I do.”  Aziraphale kisses his forehead and then turns to leave.

He makes his way through the ship, finding Katanga on the bridge with a pair of binoculars.

“What’s happened, why have we stopped?”

“Ah, Dr. Fell, see for yourself,” Katanga says, passing him the binoculars, “we have some very important friends.”

“Oh bugger.”

There’s a German U-boat approaching, and quite swiftly at that.  Soldiers and officers standing on deck along with Belloq.  

“I sent my man for you; you and your friend must disappear.” Katanga says, herding him towards the bridge door.  “We have a place in the hold, they won’t look there, go, go!”

Aziraphale rushes back towards he and Crowley’s quarters, ducking through shipping crates, making his way through those narrow corridors.  He slams the door open, but finds the cabin empty.

“Dammit, Crowley,” he mutters under his breath as he takes to the hallway again, weaving through the pirates running around preparing the ship to be boarded.

He rushes between the shipping crates, looking for a place to hide.  Suddenly, someone reaches out and grabs him by the arm, pulling him into a very cramped space between two crates.

“Shhhhh…” Crowley hisses at him, putting a finger to the angel’s lips and keeping a firm hold on his shoulder.  “Little demonic miracle, they shouldn’t see us but they can still hear.”  Aziraphale has a vague rush of memory from the night before, of the soft touches they exchanged.

On either side of the small opening soldiers pass by.  They both stay stock still, not daring to breath.  Crowley lets go as soon as they’re gone, and Aziraphale can still feel the ghost of his hand on his shoulder.

They peer out from around the corner.  Katanga stands in the center of the deck, facing them.  A soldier has a gun pointed to his head, and the rest of the pirates are held back by soldiers pointing guns in their directions.  An officer stands with his back to them, flanked by both Belloq and the man in black.

[Continue Reading on AO3]

[madibyrd]

TASK #001: THE LAST NORMAL DAY • broken promises

Flight 441 disappeared on October 16th, Friday, but Madi hasn’t heard about it until the following day, well into Saturday. She got home around 6:30am after finishing a 24 hours shift, remembered to send her sister a message that she wouldn’t be able to make it later to their house to lunch, apologizing for it profoundly, and then knocked out and slept a good twelve hours because she was exhausted. It was a long, hard shift, one of the roughest she’s had in months, constant calls through both the day and night with barely a moment to rest, and she needed to refuel herself.

She woke up to an empty house - Talia was off on some conference being awesome -, and a whole bunch of angry messages from her sister along with several missed calls. She wasn’t in the mood to argue with Liz, but she also knew the more she pushed off the call, the angrier her sister would get, so she let out a long breathe, headed to the kitchen to make herself a coffee and called her sister.

“You promised, Madison, you promised you’d come over for lunch and try out Jake’s soup, he was so excited for you to try it.” No hello, no greeting, and Liz even called her Madison. She really was pissed. She turned on the coffee maker to do its magic and then moved to the living room to turn on the news.

“I promised I would try, Liz, that is what I promised. If my shift went okay and I could get some sleep. I didn’t get any, I literally just woke up.”

“You could have set an alarm.”

“And be a useless sack of potatoes when I go over? You know how I am when I don’t get a proper amount of sleep. It was a really hard shift, Liz, I swear, there were several pretty brutal accidents that we were called to, one of them had a whole family... anyway, aside from those, there were two fires as well and two freaking prank calls that lead to nowhere just us in gear going to the furthest of our district when we could have used that time at least to rest. And this was just the night of the shift, don’t even get me started on the rest of the 24 hours. if I could have, I would have made it over there.”

There was a long pause from the other end of the phone.

“No sleep at all?”

“None until I got home,” Madi promised.

A sigh. “Okay, maybe I forgive you, but you’ll still have to make amends with Jake. Starting with trying out his soup. And groveling a little.”

“Give him the phone and I’ll start, but that kid loves me way too much to need that much groveling.” Which really only made it worse, but she even told Liz not to promise anything to her nephew, so if she said anything more than a really weak maybe, it was on her, as far as Madi was concerned. Not that it would stop her from apologizing to Jake, but still.

“He’s out in the garden playing with...” Liz jumped into a long explanation about what Madi’s nephew was doing, but Madi was not listening to any of it, because when she looked up at the tv, all she saw was the flashing headline - “Tragic plane crash - plane still nowhere found”. She quickly turned the volume on and tried to listen, but with Liz in her ears, it wasn’t the easiest of moments. “Liz, sorry to cut you off, but... what is this plane thing they are talking about on the news?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear before? A plane full of people was heading to LA from... not really sure where, some European city, and then it just vanished. Nobody knows what happened or what happened to them, but they didn’t arrive in LA. Everyone’s freaking out.”

“Yeah, I can imagine...”

Madi got her coffee and chatted a little bit longer with her sister, but she wasn’t really there in the head, she kept losing focus to watching the news and trying to figure out what more there is to know about this accident. She didn’t know anyone on the flight, she knew that - Talia would only be flying back home the next day and nobody else she knew or were close to were planning flying anywhere anytime soon - but still, it wouldn’t leave her mind. To the point where after a couple of hours (which included trying to distract herself and talking to her nephew, promising him that she would try his soup soon), she reached for her phone to text her coworker about the flight, that turned into a phone call that turned into the two of them googling if there were any need for volunteers to go and help with the search.

They found a phone number, they called it, and in less than an hour they were already set to fly to LA, from where the boat they would be on would leave. Their boss wasn’t happy about the development, but he also understood the sentiment, and it wasn’t the first time one of his firefighters went off to volunteer somewhere else. They would make it it work.

The harder conversation for Madi was her family - her parents already didn’t like that her profession included running into burning buildings and risking her own life. They’ve accepted it at this point with grumbles and occasional suggestions to other jobs (her mom’s pitches really were ridiculous, “I’ve heard tv reporters got hundreds of thousands of dollars yearly. Madi, my dear, you love talking, don’t you think that would be a fine job for you?”), but they didn’t like the idea of Madi putting herself in other type of danger, even though Madi insisted she wouldn’t actually be in danger. She would be on a boat, she wouldn’t do the actual dive work, she’d just help out whenever she could (technically she didn’t know what her job would be, but if she said that, her parents would imagine her dangling feets above the water on a hook without any safety, and nobody wanted that). They ended the call on “let’s talk about this more tomorrow” and Madi told them she’d call them from LA. They were not happy about it at all.

Her sister was... both more and less understanding. She was mostly annoyed she’d have to tell a 9 years old her auntie would have to disappear for a while and no, he wouldn’t be able to come over or play with her. And then turned on the worried sister mode and made Madi promise that she would be careful and not do anything stupid like jump into the water to save somebody. Madi did promise. Her best friend simply made her promise to bring her some souvenire and told her that she admired her for wanting to do this and then they spent the rest of the call talking about the guy she was seeing and how she got to a whole new level on one of the video games she was playing at the time that Madi didn’t understand but liked listening to her friend talk about it.

The last conversaion, and weirdly the one that she was both the most anxious and not at all about was Talia. She didn’t call her, she just sent a text - neither of them were really the calling type, and they very rarely actually talked, usually just texted.

[Madi]: So, I’m not going to be home for a while... [Talia]: What have you done? [Madi]: I might have volunteered on one of the rescue teams for that flight that disappeared, did you see that? Or were you too wrapped up in your historical facts? [Talia]: Madiiiiii [Madi]: Yes, that’s my name, though I usually use a lot less i’s :P [Talia]: Your desire to act like a hero can be quite annoying sometimes, you know [Talia]: I was looking forward to a chill night on the couch tomorrow, watching some dumb movie [Talia]: But I guess you’ve already decided, right? [Madi]: Yeah, I fly out to LA tomorrow. We’re just missing each other [Talia]: Somebody is gonna write a book about you and they are going to interview me and I will tell them about that time you got home at 3am and spent an entire hour singing itsy bitsy spider on the foot of my bed, crying about how much spiders are misunderstood and mistrusted even though they are the cutest things on the planet [Madi]: HEY! [Talia]: I know, I know, it’s bees [Talia]: And speaking of them, I won’t have to deal with them, right? [Madi]: Nope, I’m gonna check on them before I leave, they can take care of themselves while I’m gone, you don’t have to go anywhere near them [Talia]: You’re amazing [Madi]: Now tell me about your super historical, super nerdy presentation, did it go okay?

They chatted for a little while longer, Madi happily hearing about Talia’s presentation, being so proud of her. She might have not been there to see it, but she was sure Talia rocked it. And they could celebrate when they would be both back in Boston.

It was evening by the time she was done with everything, and she ate some leftovers from the fridge, watched a sitcom episode on Netflix, and then went to bed early. She wasn’t in the mood for anything else, she was excited to help in something so huge and curious what she would have to do, what kind of job she would be trusted upon. The next day she flew to LA with her partner and spent the remaining of her days on the boat, searching and searching for the disappeared plane without any kind of luck before the fateful accident happened and she’d end up on Meridium.

What she didn’t realize on this Saturday night is that these interactions would become the last she had with them. She talked to Talia and her sister during the trip, and she exchanged a couple of LA memes with her best friend, but there was no end, no goodbye, no finality to any of it. Promises, however, of her return that much more. And all of them would be broken the moment she washed ashore on the sandy beach of Meridium.

[roccinan]

“Running up that hill” please?

Hi anon! Thanks for stopping by for this tag game :D

“Running up that hill” is the working title for the berlermo Reincarnation AU, where basically Andres and Martin knew each other during their past lives (once in ancient Rome, once in the middle ages, and once in the 19th century). Their lives always followed the pattern of:

Andres being obsessed with some material goal and Martin being obsessively loyal to him no matter what. Andres always took Martin for granted in each life until the end of the third when he realizes that it was never about the stupid goals and that he was actually in love with “Martin” all along too, but too late LMAO

Then there’s some lore I mixed together where drinking from the river Styx wipes your memories of the past life so you can reincarnate in peace. For the past 3 lives, Andres skipped that part because he’s an asshole who was under the impression that he’ll never be fulfilled until he completes his material goals (whether that’s finding glory, treasure, or romance). Before he reincarnates into his 4th life AKA “canon,” he finally does the memory wipe as part of a deal to see Martin again. 

This is the summary I’m kinda leaning towards:

This is the story of two men, three lifetimes, and one second chance.

I wrote a snippet already, but I revamped it a bit for this post because I wrote that one at 12am last time and didn’t like it in the morning LOL

                                                            XXX

The mist fogged overhead, a familiar coat of dread enveloping the river’s mouth. Felipe blinked, for once understanding the sight of death. He should have been accustomed by now. But he had never been. And now, as he listened to the moans of passing souls, the distant song of grieving mortals, and the unending cry of a crow in the air, he thought-

I want to live. I need-

The boat creaked beneath his feet. Behind him, the oar dug into his back, sharp and cold. One push and he would fall into the Styx, an eternity of ice and water below. But the shadow of shore beckoned, and Charon’s voice crept into his ear:

“It’s time.”

Felipe shuddered. I want to live, he thought, the words spearing through every bone and vein, burning each notion of despair- fear- into dust. He wanted to live. He wanted to live.

He needed to live.

So he turned, and with a gulp of air, looked into Charon’s face. He met the hollow eyes of the ferryman’s skeletal face. Perhaps for the last time.

“No,” he said, “please, I-”

The boat rocked. And Charon spoke, lips unmoving, “You were granted enough chance. Now it’s time to move on-”

But when the boat swayed once more, Felipe refused to jump. He knocked past the oar, and on his knees, clutched the ferryman’s robe. He clung to Charon’s fabric, itself the texture of sand and dust. Time sifting through his finger cracks. Still, Felipe clung on.

“I was a fool!” he cried, Charon’s face blurred by the salt of tears, “I was a fool. Please- allow me this, one more life- one more-”

“I cannot.”

“You must!” He let the sob sound out, no qualms to be had. “I need to see him. I was a fool- if you let me, I’ll do anything you ask- please- please-”

Bones brushed away his tears, a skeleton’s hands come to cup his cheeks. Charon held his jaw, head tilting to look Felipe in the eye.

“You speak of Gaius?”

And Felipe laughed. Yes. Gaius, who had stood between him and the soldier’s blade. Gaius, who had died bleeding in his arms.

“Tristan,” Felipe whispered.

Tristan who had loved the sea, who had followed him through desert and forest and countless more. Tristan, who had paid the price for a rotten whim.

“Eduardo,” he said, “all of them. So long as it’s him.”

Eduardo, who had left him in the theatre. Eduardo, who had come to his wedding and wished him well. Eduardo, whose grave lay rotting in the snow.

“This is all I want,” he said, “to see him again. Please, please grant me this.”

Charon regarded him, silent. Then slowly, he nodded.

                                                          XXX

“This time, I don’t ask for wealth.”

Andres dragged himself upwards, a hiss upon his knee. Asphalt against broken flesh. He looked to the ground. And spat, saliva tinged with red. Flicking blood from his nose, he unfurled his hand and glanced at what he’d managed to keep. The street light flickered in and out, some poor company in the dark.

He thought of hiding behind the dumpster, but dismissed the thought. It was beneath him. Dignity would not allow.

He counted the coins, a far cry from what he’d initially procured. Nowhere near enough to pay for what mother needed. What he needed. But there was always tomorrow. He grinned. Yes, tomorrow and the day after. And he wouldn’t be caught. He would make sure of it. 

He was fourteen. And he swore then, that when he was forty, he would be rolling in coins.

“I don’t ask for love.”

He chased romance, perhaps more for the thrill than the pleasure. Perhaps a lesser man would have thought at that point, “I don’t deserve love.” But Andres had always been, if nothing else, a confident thing. Women, he came to know, were fickle creatures. But beautiful creatures.

So he carried on, dancing through weddings and spinning his heart like a game of roulette. A lesser man would have wondered if he was even capable of feeling love. But Andres, as always, shut that voice away and laughed on as he proposed to his third wife. And he kept laughing until she too left him in the end.

“I don’t ask for health.”

Six clinics, ten consultations. A unanimous positive that he was afflicted with his mother’s illness. Three years, Andres was told, five, eight perhaps, with the help of luck.

But he had never been a lucky man. And he knew living to see fifty was too much to ask. He felt the aches first, a steady pain that grew into an acute numbness which stole away everything- appetite, desire, strength. And faced with the end so close, Andres did the only he could: he laughed.

“I only ask for him,” Felipe said, smiling into Charon’s gaze, “a life by his side.”

Andres had been only been to Buenos Aires twice in the past. This time, however, he had no ‘business’ to care for. It was freeing then, to enjoy the city for what it was. Of course, it was easy to enjoy anything when one had the money.

He relaxed against the counter, scanning the hotel bar for the umpteenth time. Pity, he thought. There was no one to catch his eye, or better yet, fill the void that she’d left. It was just as well. Sergio had told him to clear his head, and he supposed he was doing just that.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Andres started. A brow raised. He looked to the man who’d slid up beside him. A local, no doubt, judging by the accent. He was not an unattractive man, far from it, in fact. And when he smiled, it was as if the devil had blessed his face with roguish charm. He would have been a pleasure to paint, with sea blue eyes and carefree teeth.

Andres returned that smile with a slipping grin. The stranger was confident, he could tell, and for that, he admired him. But those bright eyes were casting him a look he knew far too well, one that spoke of benevolence and something more-- desire. Naked and bold. 

“I like women, you see,” he told the man, a gentle taunt in his words.

If anything, the stranger’s grin brightened. “You like women so much that you’d refuse a free drink?”

And because that had been the very last thing Andres expected to hear, he crossed his legs and laughed, a hearty chuckle that rattled his chest.

“Let’s compromise,” he said then, “I’ll buy you a drink first- what shall I call you?”

Charon handed him the bowl of stone. Felipe held it on his hands, above his head, upwards as he felt the weight of water within. Then he put it to his lips.

The River Styx tasted like nectar first, then the most bitter root, and then nothing at all. Felipe thought of eyes the color of sea and a gap-toothed grin. Gaius, Tristan, Eduardo-- and as the last of the water entered his throat, those names faded to smoke on his tongue. And then, there was nothing he could recall.

“Martin Berrote,” the Argentine said.

His grin stretched. “Andres de Fonollosa.”