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leatherbookmarking · 3 years ago

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fuck that ! im gonna talk about them deadboyz!! shame is for the WEAK

overall:

belong to a much less known subsidiary company of jinhit no jgs isn’t worth the joke entertainment. if they were in any other company they would be super rookies but jgs is keeping them in the basement and it’s not even his own basement

initially i think there were some high stakes in it for jgy...? something like ‘you produce the songs and make their chores and if you flop you’ll never be on stage again’ but?? i don’t know now tbh

would have been really popular (they are Good) but less known company, etc, and also some rumors around the time of their debut made it so they’re only knows because ‘they’re kinda good at dancing aren’t they’

general concept is uh... cool dudes, kinda fucky but not too much...? gotta think about the baby (a-yu)

THE MEMBERS: meng yao (leader, main dancer, vocalist), wen chao (oldest, main rapper), su she (main vocal, dancer), xue yang (rapper, dancer, unofficially: moodmaker, if by ‘mood’ you understand ‘horror at whatever has just come out of his hellish mouth), wen ning (dancer, vocalist, sometimes rapper), mo xuanyu (vocalist, the Baby™)

MENG YAO:

leader, single-handedly responsible for making these rowdy boys (wc&xy) stop wanting to kill each other

has probably auditioned for every single company there is. was in the nie company for a bit, but it was still a mess freshly after the previous owner, nmj’s father, has died, nmj has struggled (being a producer, not a businessman) so when it turned out they’d have to let some trainees go, the other trainees made it so meng yao was the one to leave. then he temporarily was at wrh’s company where he got kind-of-semi-famous as one of wen qing’s main back dancers (the one she’s interacted with the most) during her last performance. then the company went kaputt and jgs has snatched him off for himself, and then... put him... in the basement.... for two years... after which he gave him a chance, and voila

insanely hard-working. an all-rounder. mainly he excels at dancing, but his vocal and rap skills also Fuck. persona? impeccable. he’s learning to write and compose his own songs and he’s doing well, but he can’t even upload his stuff on soundcloud, because... you know why. has doubled as a manager in their early days. also, dimples.

the fans had tried to make a dad/mom dynamic with him and uh... wen chao...? since they were the oldest and pretty much the opposites, but quickly gave up and he’s now simply known as yao-ge due to his stern but loving persona. (yao-jie, sometimes)

DOES do the split. it was his rookie trick for a year after they debuted, but he simply is just like that. one show host asked him “is there definite proof that you have bones?“ and meng yao only shrugged humbly

WEN CHAO

oldest, has been a trainee for the longest time, hasn’t debuted because... well... he wasn’t good... and that was because he’s felt too safe in his dad’s company. WELL ABOUT THAT,

his older brother wen xu has debuted Long before him, but after a few years his group disbanded, he moved on to modeling and then stopped after a couple of years, too. (he got married.)

you know how i said their image is ‘cool, a bit fucky’? well, he’s 40% of that fuckiness. he’s been told again and again that idols aren’t supposed to date/have dating experience, but he still can’t get the hang of it

yes, he and jiaojiao were an item back in the wen days. she’s a trainee at some other company now but they still hook up sometimes

initially was intent on maintaining a cool, calm and collected image... then he met xue yang and threw that idea outta the window. paradoxically, they’re interesting together, not only as rappers but also as... high-energy, chaotic energy makers of the group...

this is a happy au, so: initially he’s thought everything is bullshit, these talentless fucks are dumb and he should already be a top idol. by the time of their debut, he agrees that meng yao is one crafty motherfucker. a year after their debut, if anything happened to any of his boys, yes even xue yang, he would kill everyone in the room, etc, etc BUT YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO KNOW ABOUT THAT.

SU SHE

unfortunately, was added before their first comeback (second release) and therefore controversial. fortunately, his vocal completes the group’s image and musical flavour

was a trainee in yinshen ent where he really admired their top idol, lan wangji, until... he got to know him (?) when they were sent to compete in a survival show and decided lan wangji ain’t shit and is, in fact, a stuck-up self-centered bitch. the survival show crashed (unrelatedly), but still some serious words were exchanged. during Some Company Problems, quite a lot of trainees have left, but he was the one who left with a Bang.

joined that one subsidiary of jin ent because of meng yao, who, just like in canon, recognized him, said he loved him in (song he’s performed in the survival show) and with this he cemented his position as su she’s new Boy Who Makes Him Go !!!!.

slowly replaced meng yao as The Man Who Does This Face at the other lads’ rowdy behaviour.

fans remember he was :/ at lan wangji, so his persona wouldn’t work anyway, but he does make quite a convincing kind dude-next-door.

stubborn side of the fandom’s next candidate for the mom member, because... he’s ridiculously prepared and reliable. who carries hydrogen peroxide in their daily use backpack? this boy !

it used to be rubbing alcohol but i had too many reasons to apply it internally, he once says mournfully, and this is how xue yang discovers he has a sense of humor, sort of

unfortunately, has the juiciest ass in the group. unfortunately, because

XUE YANG

responsible for: being inappropriate. the other 60% of fuckiness, really enjoys getting into wen chao’s personal space (since wen chao is That straight dude) and just... doing whatever to make su she Scandalized.

but he’s so cute we’ll forgive him. at least until the next time he does a surprise butt grab

very agile! dance line along with meng yao and wen ning. apparently he was a stunt guy...? apparently the lived in the streets...? apparently he went to the same dance school as meng yao...? no one knows his past. no one has seen his kid photos. did he go by another name...? insert the what are birds gif but make it who is xue yang.

adds sound effects to real life. also in his raps, sometimes

started hugging and initiating physical contact with people to assert dominance to be annoying, but ended up actually liking it, even though the one he does it comfortably with is meng yao. just like... back hugs? resting his chin over a-yao’s shoulder? it’s neat. sometimes a-yao pats his hand or taps his nose absent-mindedly and it’s super neat. if he notices you noticing it, though, he will BITE

most popular member, but everyone likes him for different reasons and has a different uhhh headcanon about potentially dating him. bad boy xue yang/cute bratty didi xue yang/sweet boyfriend xue yang, etc, etc

no one knows how, but apparently he knows the iconic duo from a small company, xiao xingchen and song lan...? or rather, song lan pretends not to know or notice him, meanwhile xiao xingchen is very cute when they’re interacting, and basically it prompts a lot of dating rumors, especially since they’ve been spotted having hotpot.

WEN NING

su she was the one to join last, but actually it’s wen ning who’s the least popular member. i’m just so quiet that people don’t notice me, haha, he says while being 180cm tall and having killer charisma when he dances

seriously, what’s up with that? it’s almost like he’s a different person, a possessed one to add to that. huh!

in contrast, his voice is very gentle and even cute, and he often sings quietly to himself. sometimes to other members (there’s a video of him singing what seems to be a lullaby to mxy), sometimes to little animals (there’s a video of him singing to a tiny frog he’s found during a walk). gentle boyfriend wen ning but it’s CANON

in contrast to the contrast, he doesn’t rap often, but when he does, it’s like... who’s that?? another member??? dualism king

when wc/xy cause problems on purpose, he doesn’t react/allows them to tease him/slap his ass/bump into him when they’re fighting. he seems like a calm, gentle guy so when they’re in a variety show and it’s Time For A Punishment, of course he gets to decide/wield the squeaky hammer, WHEREUPON ‘yang-ge, three weeks ago you ate my yoghurt even though i specifically asked you not to, so...’ (whacks xy’s ass into next tuesday)

nice, sculpted shoulders make for very good pillows

MO XUANYU

a Baby, but watch out: a horny one. fully on board with xue yang’s Inappropriate Ideas Of Entertainment. there’s a video of them doing some Rather Dirty dance moves while meng yao and su she make pained faces in the bg

fashion king. make-up king. none of his selfies are bare-faced, he always has some red eye shadow/blue eyelashes/yellow blush/black lipstick going on. sometimes even at the same time. paints his nails and toenails as well. somehow yao-gege doing his make-up makes him fall asleep one minute in. (cute)

his sincere smile is a 100% foolproof way to just... melt everyone’s hearts. in wen ning’s case: with a smile as well. meng yao and su she: an eyeroll (fond). xue yang and wen chao: ‘oh, fuck you’. but it DOES

most of the time though when he does sajiao it’s totally weird. (on purpose, on purpose)

tiny boy. skinny boy. once he turned to the side and vanished. even though most of the time in videos the other members sooner or later end up giving him food! (at some point wen chao says ‘it’s so that you’d shut up’, causing a-yu to start talking animatedly, spitting crumbs into his tea. serves him right)

has a potential to end up as a vocal god. currently however his favourite method of doing things with his voice is SCREAM

famously examines what things are by putting them in his mouth/licking them. he is a little creacher. he cannot change this

bites

#shut up shrimp #ye..lls.........#some other time i'll have to write about what the other dudes are doing in this au #idol au

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adulttrio-imagines · 5 years ago

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190. “I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought.” With Hisoka haha

This word is far too short for us, it has only four letters, too sparse to fill those deep bare vacuums between the stars that press on us with their deafness. It’s not love we don’t wish to fall into, but that fear. this word is not enough but it will have to do

- Margaret Atwood

The taste of bile lingers at the back of your throat, even after you down your second can of lemonade. It burns, leaving an unpleasant aftertaste on your mouth, no matter how much lemonade you try to force down. You sigh for the umpteenth time, the alcohol pounding on your head as the world spins, blurring into hundreds of colorful splotches as you curse yourself once again for your lack of self-control. Hisoka sits beside you, serenely sipping on a bottle of champagne he nicked from the party as you both overlook the small hill.

You sneak a glance at him, stomach fluttering for reasons beyond the alcohol as you trace the high peak of his nose to the curve of his lips. He was an enigma, representing everything you couldn’t understand. From his colorful attire to his oddly painted yet attractive face, he stood at the top of an existence that was beyond your comprehension, a sense of freedom and purpose that drove you to him like flies to honey, running in circles to understand the meaning in the world he seeks. You should have been mad at him for turning up at the event unannounced, making a fool of the both of you, causing a ruckus and gotten you both kicked out, though not before inciting a mass panic. But, for some stupid, inexplicable reason, you just couldn’t. You bitterly dump the empty can right next to the pair of heels you had carelessly thrown off, quietly cursing when it bounces off and rolls down the hill.

“I did tell you not to drink too much, darling. Now look where you got us.” The magician sings, looking very much like a cat who stole a prized canary under its owner’s nose, tugging a few wayward strands of hair behind the crook of your ear as you sulk, the places his fingers brush tingling long after you push them away. His voice is light and airy, they remind you of wind chimes in the summer, easily carried by the afternoon wind. You don’t appreciate how condescending he sounds but struggle to hide the smile in your voice.

“Says you. You stole a whole bottle of champagne, you’re probably worst off than I am.” It’s a lie. It’s an unusually warm Octobers night, and your bones creak with a familiar sense of exhaustion as you feel your consciousness slip between cracks.

Hisoka hums, pale cheeks appearing more flushed than usual; you force yourself not to stare at the pair of high cheekbones that have always intrigued you. “Maybe, but at least I don’t deny it.”

You try to punch him in the shoulder; you trust your physical capabilities as a hunter, but even alcohol intoxication remains a threat to you, and in your current inebriated state, miss him completely, and almost fall forward from the momentum. Faster than you can think, he grabs you by the shoulders, steadying you back into an upright position, smile never leaving his face as the heat at the back of your neck slowly creeps up your cheeks.

“I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought.” You finally admit, wrapping your arms around yourself after brushing his hands away (you miss the way he narrows his eyes), denying that slight twinge of happiness you felt when he reached out to grab you. It burns where he held you, and fills you with conflicting thoughts.

His smile doesn’t falter but you see a malicious glint in his eyes.

For a moment, everything remained upright, but a sudden shove from your back upends the delicate balance you had tried desperate to remain. You scream, toppling over, but not before grabbing his arm and dragging him along with you, gleefully squealing as you both roll haphazardly down the hill, landing clumsily at the base in a tangled mess of limbs.

“That wasn’t fair.” You struggle to contain your laughter at his childish whining, he’s immature tone not at all suiting his larger than life build.

“Well, you started it.” You throw a fistful of grass at him, rolling your eyes and bursting into laughter as he pouts, tuffs of grass mixing in with the fiery orange of his hair. You collapse into the grass, the earliest of dew drops soaking into your clothes, the grass stains would be a pain to clean up, but being drunk off copious amounts of alcohol under such a calm night, you release a contented and stretch into a more comfortable position.

Hisoka huffs from his spot, a tick of annoyance radiating off him in waves, the few remaining blades of grass hanging mockingly to his shirt, but he crawls over to you, eyes dripping with mischief. Before you can process anything, he drops all of his six foot three inch glory into your lap, knocking the air out of you, face twisting into a cheeky smile as you struggle to escape his hold.

“Hisoka-! Get-get off, me!” You splutter, trying to shove him off the best you can with what little coordination you have left. He grins lazily at you instead, reclining into you in such a way that his head rested in between both of your breast, making sure he could see your struggled expression from any angle. If it wasn’t for his literal weight on your being, the act itself would have sent you careening off into the moon from embarrassment.

“Nah, I think this is just too comfortable. Also consider this payment for making me wait for you.” He hums, purposefully burying deeper into your chest, and you curse your past self for buying a dress with such thin fabric that each movement he made tickled the sensitive skin of your breast.

“I can’t breathe!” You protest, wriggling desperately under him, but you suspect he had bungee gummed himself to you, and not for the first time, curse his nen ability.

“Oh? Hmm..?” His smirk is infuriatingly smug, and you would have lashed out to punch him square in the jaw if your arms weren’t plastered to the ground. He rests his chin on his hands, elbows digging into your stomach as he pretends to think about the issue for a moment, ignoring your continual struggle beneath him, “Nope, I don’t think I care.” He shoots you a Cheshire smile, boops your nose and flops right back down on you.

You groan in defeat, throwing your head back against the grass, the fresh dirt pillowing the force. It’s difficult but you try your best to ignore how sweet he smelled, or how warm he felt spread on top of you, or how your nose tingled at his touch, praying that the darkness of the night hid your steadily reddening face.

“Fine,” you huff, shooting him a dirty look. “I guess I’ll just choke on my own puke and die here then- Woah!”

Strong pair of arms grab you on either side, one firmly holding you close while the other gently supports the back of your head. Too shocked from the sudden change, you can only whelp as he rolls backwards, sending dandelion seeds floating off into the night sky as he lands on his back, reversing your previous position where you now lie helplessly on top of him with your head resting right below the dip between his collar bones, perfect for hearing the steady beat from his chest that is so starkly contrast your own rapidly beating heart.

“We can’t have that, can’t we, sweet thing? I can’t lose you that fast.” Hisoka chuckles at your reaction somewhere above you, his right arm straddling you feeling very pleasant against the skin as he grips your thigh while his left thumb runs smooth circles over your knuckles, and your alcohol-induced mind squishes any sort of logical restraint you usually would have had. His fingers are calloused and the texture surprise he pasted over them don’t hide the nicks and scars you feel beneath the flimsy barrier. He leans in closer still, breath hot down your neck. “The fun hasn’t even started yet.”

“No. No. Not here.” You object, immediately sobering up, praying that he couldn’t hear how loud your heart was thumping right now as you push his arm away and start to get up, only to be held back by the incredulous look he shoots you that almost cracks your resolve as you fumble for an excuse, “too many bugs!”

He scoffs, clearly not convinced by your answer and you feel him tighten the grip on your fingers. “Are you afraid of some small insect?”

You run a hand through your already messy hair, shaking out the remaining remnants of streamers from the party, trying to ignore the very chiseled abs pressed against your thigh. “Yes. No. Well, it’s more like we don’t know what’s been here and I don’t want to get an infection, and-and….”

You trail off, letting the frosty silence settle between the both of you. There were no illusions about the type of person Hisoka was. You slid off his chest, letting the darkness hide your face as you stared blankly into your hands. In the faint moonlight, it’s easy to forget with his charming smiles and playful wit that this was an indiscriminate murderer; who comfortably held lies at the tip of his tongue and could effortlessly crush a man’s skull with his bare hands, who snuffed the light out of many for simple fun, who reeked of blood and violence as he clambered insistently for your undivided attention, painting the walls in your house a gory red. You look at his hands, tracing the delicate tips of his nails to the high ridges of his knuckles, wondering if they would one day wrap themselves around your neck as well.

He was a danger manifested in human form, a demon who held strength that shook the earth masquerading as a mortal, you knew exactly what he represented, but couldn’t stop yourself from crashing deeper and deeper into his magnetic vortex. You twist the stem, easily plucking the lone dandelion off, it’s a nice night, perhaps you should-

“Come. Lie with me.” You blink at the tone of his voice; it’s not a command, but a request. The words stay by me are left hanging precariously between the both of you. As if he senses your internal conflict, he gently tugs at your hand and after a moment of hesitation, your defenses are whittled to non-existence and you sigh but lay down next to him, breathing in a mixture of spiced liquor, sweet candy and wet grass, fingers still interlocked together as you both stare at the vast expanse of darkness that was the cloudless night sky stretched endlessly above your heads, with clusters of stars flickering brightly off into the distance, accompanied by a solitary half moon that acted as a weary guardian. They shine delicately, as if someone had painstakingly created each of them individually before carefully hanging them in unseen patterns, painting a canopy of ever dancing light. You begin to relax, enjoying the rare circle of comforting silence created solely for such a purpose, saying nothing as you stared at the vast multitude of stars sitting at the high heavens above, all too aware of his slow breathing, the heat radiating from his bare arm and the feeling of your hand in his.

“Do you know what that constellation is called?” Hisoka says suddenly, lifting your joined hands to point at a small collection of stars somewhere off to the left.

“Uhm… is it Ursa Minor?” You guess, the urge to slide your hand off his fighting your urge to hold them closer, instead you cock your head to the side.

He laughs, and under the faint moonlight his expression is soft (it shines brighter than anything you’ve ever seen) and he dons a surprisingly boyish grin on his face (you didn’t know that devils could smile like that), looking years younger and resembling an unruly teenager more than the wild being he existed as now. “No, but close. That’s Cassiopeia. Now, that is Ursa Minor.” He answers, pointing at another group of stars at the right.

“What? They’re nowhere close to each other!” You rest your intertwined hands on your chest, (they weigh your down like anchors, dragging you all the way down to the depths of the ocean floor, chaining you) the warmth an unfamiliar but welcomed comfort.

His smile is small (you heart crumbles to a million pieces, it hurts, hurts, hurts) and you have to fight to just smile back (you squeeze his hands tightly, wondering if he can feel how hard they’re shaking as you dig your fingers into the ground). He leans into you so that his head rested directly above yours. “It’s a good try. Here, how about this one?” He asks, pointing with his free hand.

“Hmm, is it the Big Dipper?” You return his smile with a grin of your own. (The cracks in your resolve deepen, fracturing off and collapsing into itself.)

Is it really alright….

“Well, you’re somewhat right. The Big Dipper is the group of stars contained in the Ursa Major. It itself isn’t a constellation.”

…. for me to stay by your side?

“Ahh, I see.” Tranquility falls between you both again, and a strange combination of guilt and relief seeps its way into your being. It would be easier to end this all now, but the stillness of the night ties your tongue in knots, extinguishing your voice for reason with a few strokes on your thighs and warm fingers curled around yours. Instead you say,

“You like the stars a lot, don’t you.” You instantly regret your words, his smiles sliding off his face like melted butter, for reasons beyond your understanding. He’s silent, and for a split second you hear his pulse thunder furiously.

I guess you can say that.” He pauses, gaze aimlessly tracing the constellations hanging above, as if they held secrets untold. Pangs of guilt roll in waves, eating away at you for conjuring such bitter feelings.

“When I left the Yorbian desert,” his lips unwind, and for a split second, you see a small lone figure, broken and desperate, forcing his way through mountains of sand, “the only help I had was from the stars. They tell many stories, you just have to know how to look.” He claws his way past the sand dunes, gasping for breath as the night sky led him on.

He clams up, and the boy collapses, silent screams coloring the dessert. For once, words evade him and he struggles to form coherent words to paint the horrors he saw, but you’ve seen how his twists in his sleep, the wordless stream of screams that subsequent each kill, his manic laughter when he returns to you, thick with murder and bloodlust as he creeps into your room. It’s easier to smile and pretend the bad things don’t exist, easier to pretend everything is fine, easier to remain comfortably broken than lose your head in the process of piecing every broken piece together and try to make sense of the horrors.

“Tell me more about your stars.” You whisper, placing your hand on his cheek. You’re alive, you’re don’t have to go back anymore, you’re here and fine, and everything is going to be alright, alright, alright-

He turns to you, resting his free hand over yours, pair of burning suns piercing right through you as the world slows its spinning for just one moment.

And as if a switch is flipped, something greater than the sum of all your thoughts blooms in your heart, creating tiny explosions that blast into a thousand suns, as if in that moment, a new universe was created inside of you. Heart fluttering, you become all too aware of the heat that colors your cheeks, the steady beat of his pulse as you curled into the nape of his neck, and your own close proximity to him. The smell of honeysuckle permeating the air as the cloudless night sky shone in all its radiance, the autumn breeze carrying the distant smoke of firewood from the distance, your heart full and warm with contentedness.

Your breath hitches, and you believe in that moment that he’s more beautiful than all the stars that are and ever will be in the galaxy. More than stars, you see supernovas of pure chaos and energy radiating from his orbs that burn brighter than even the fiercest of suns, confident and blazing in every way, and of course it’s impossible to tear your gaze away from the brilliant cluster before you.

(My heart wavers on, oh where will you go, where will you go?)

Your hands are shaking so hard that nothing you do can stop them. His fingers clasp themselves in yours, dispelling any shred of doubt you had left, stilling your thoughts and filling the gaps perfectly as he brings them up to his lips, kissing them with unknown tenderness.

Stay by me.

Stay be me.

Stay by me.

He was a beast pretending to be human, a demon barely holding on to its mortal form, who dwells in the pits of Tartarus and pretends to exists among ordinary man, but yet, even after everything he has done, he’s beautiful in a way that hurts when stringing your thoughts into tangible words, because when you finally press your lips against his, the very foundation of your being breaks and under the blanket of stars do you both spiral into something too terrible and beautiful for either of you to fathom.

#hunter x hunter #hisoka #slight angst #slight fluff #my writings #headcanon prompts #asks #here you go anon!#finally got it done #i just wanted to write something happy for once

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roseskiesandbutterflies · 4 years ago

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Le Démon Déchu - Chapter 1: Nouveau Départ

Summary: The summary is kind of long so please check a previous part or my masterlist if you want to read it.

Warning(s): implied/referenced trauma, swearing (this goes for probably every chapter, but I’ll keep putting it here)

Word Count: 2.8k+

Inspiration: Do You Know What Eternity Is? by Elderly_Worm on AO3, Great Omens (The Big One) by falsepremise on AO3, Pray For Us, Icarus series by Atalan on AO3, Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm on AO3, Doctor Who (don’t ask) and, of course, Good Omens itself

A/N: This was probably a bad idea, considering I have three other series on the go right now as well as a one-shot that isn’t done yet, but life’s too short so here it is. Updates on all of my works are going to be a bit slower from now on now I’m back at school (I’m in Year 11 too so I have even less time to write these days), so just bear with me. I promise I have a plan for the next twenty chapters at least, I am planning for this to be longer, but I haven’t decided where I’m going to take the rest of the story yet.

By the way, you can imagine Eloise to look like whoever you want because I’ve been a bit vague with her descriptions, but I imagine her to look something like @angelknives13 on TikTok.

As I do for most of my stories, I’ve made a Spotify playlist for this fic! Just copy and paste the link below to listen and remember that I’ll probably keep adding to it. Please listen at your own discretion because some of the songs contain spoilers. Just be wary of that. Also, some of the songs’ lyrics don’t actually make sense/relate to the story, but they’re on there because they fit the general vibe of the story. Hopefully, that makes sense.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6BaXMlb26dBYyhRCqXrEeP?si=6rY8lOkeSSmE8LRDC_Cb5w

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26

Ask or comment to be on my taglist! Let me know if it’s for a specific fandom(s) or series. Full list is in my bio.

Fool (upright) + Six Of Swords (upright)

New beginnings. Transition. Shaking things up a bit.

She called herself ‘Eloise’. That wasn’t her real name. She hadn’t been referred to by her real name for an awfully long time. No, Eloise is what she called herself so Eloise she was. Somewhere along the line, humans had decided that one’s name should have a meaning, and in some cultures that that name should tell of your past and also of your future. Eloise had been all for this notion, thinking it a marvellous idea. She’d then found out that the meaning bestowed upon her chosen name was ‘famous warrior’, which she thought was rather accurate. For before all else, Eloise was a fighter. She had fought tooth and nail to carve out the identity she had cultivated for herself and by God was she willing to fight again to keep it that way. It was an identity that she kept in her metaphorical left breast pocket, right next to her metaphorical beating heart; right where she could have it close to her, always and forever, but also where she could take it out, hold it in the palm of her hand and just admire it from time to time before popping it back in the metaphorical pocket, safe and sound. Art for art’s sake. It was an identity that she had chiselled out of the finest marble, chipped at to perfection or the closest thing to it, so that now it was the image of a Roman bust, of an ancient and long-forgotten deity. It was taller than giants and softer than the clouds above her head, richer than the finest food that the humans could create and more complex than the human mind. It burned with the heat of a thousand fires, never to be doused nor tamed. It flowed freer than the flow of a thousand rivers, winding and twisting through the corners and crevices of her mind–

She looked at it for a second longer before placing it back ever so carefully in the metaphorical pocket. It’s healthy to admire one’s soul every now and again but look into its depths for too long and you will get sucked into your own vanity. So, she returned it home to the pocket, where it belonged.

After all, there were things to be getting on with.

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

I would like to see that light once more. […] The light of the hour before the sun goes down. When every object begins to glow with its own light and gives off its own particular colour.

– Christa Wolf (Cassandra: A Novel and Four Essays)

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

There was something about evening sunshine. The sun beats down on every little thing without mercy during the day, but five o’clock rolls around before long and everything turns sweeter. The usually red bricks of identical townhouses glow orange as they cast shadows down on passers-by, the leaves of oak trees turn golden-green as they sunbathe, not all that different to the humans that seek them for shelter. The breeze blows a little cooler, the sun shines a little softer, the sky rejoices in the oil painting below it. Sunbeams caress your face, holding you in an embrace that’s warm and comforting and oh-so-familiar. It feels like returning home, and in some ways it is.

Aziraphale loves to read at this time. Though nothing should be inferred from this, as Aziraphale loves to read at any and all hours of the day and night. Aziraphale would read all day, every day for the rest of time if he could. Unfortunately for him, he can’t do such a thing, but he does read an awful lot, and he likes to make a point of always reading in the evenings. He would swap his east-facing desk for the comfort of his lapis-coloured armchair, where the window that peers over his left shoulder tries to read with him in comfortable silence. The sunlight spills into the room, casting the soft pages beneath his fingertips in a homely, golden glow, illuminating and enhancing the words printed on them. Dust particle dance like fairies in this natural spotlight, but Aziraphale is, more often than not, too engrossed in his reading to pay attention to things like these.

He is not, however, too oblivious to notice sudden noises. Unfortunately for him, Aziraphale tended to find them too loud to ignore most of the time.

His head popped up like a meerkat when he heard the bell hanging above the bookshop door ring, its tune singing out and filling the quiet of the room. The noise of outside chatter and traffic disappeared as quickly as it came as the door swiftly opened and closed. His brows furrowed in confusion, for he was sure that that door had been locked ever since that phone call he’d had with Crowley which had eventually resulted in the latter coming to stay with him, and as far as he knew, Crowley was upstairs somewhere, probably watching yet more reruns of Golden Girls. He rose cautiously and ventured into the main shop, worst case scenarios flooding his mind with every step he took.

“Hello? I’m sorry but we are most definitely closed, as you would know if you read the sign on the door…”

He faltered when he finally came face to face with the intruder. She looked at him with dark eyes wide with curiosity, her gaze intense but at the same time comforting, as if you could get lost swimming, drowning in them if you searched for too long. She then softened with the realisation and nostalgia of reuniting with an old and long-forgotten friend, her smile small but full of unbridled joy. Her voice was no louder than a whisper but held a power that compelled you to pay attention as she murmured, “Oh, there you are.”

Aziraphale’s throat ran dry with an emotion he couldn’t quite pin down, couldn’t quite name, an emotion that was on the tip of his tongue yet so out of reach. He scrambled to gather his senses because for goodness sake, this is a complete stranger whom you have never met until now, pull yourself together. “I-I’m not quite sure how you got in, but the shop is very much closed so I-I must ask you to leave,” he managed to stammer out, much less confident than the Aziraphale from a minute or two ago.

“Oh no,” she said reassuringly, her joyous expression never waning for a second, “I’m not here for a book.”

“Angel!” Crowley suddenly called out from upstairs, melting some of the awkwardness that was hanging around the room like a rather awful smell. Aziraphale noticed how the stranger’s eyes lit up even further, smile grew even wider, and more and more questions swirled around his head. He forced himself to look away from her as he heard Crowley saunter into the room from behind him. “Angel, I’m just about to put the kettle on, did you want a cup of tea or–,” he stopped when he finally noticed the other presence in the room, “I thought the shop was still supposed to be closed?” he asked warily, something in the back of his mind telling him not to trust the stranger.

“It is,” Aziraphale replied uncertainly while she waved awkwardly at them, “I don’t know how she got in, but she said she isn’t here for a book.”

Her face twitched slightly as if she wanted to comment on being spoken about like she wasn’t even in the room, but quickly decided against it for the sake of politeness.

Crowley’s face morphed into the epitome of confusion as he asked, “Well, if you’re not here for a book then why are you in a bloody bookshop?”

She looked at him as though the answer was blatantly obvious, “The bookshop has an owner, does it not? Or two unless I’m very much mistaken. It’s you. I’m here for you two.”

Crowley was quick to defend his image, “’S not my bookshop. I’m just, you know, here,” he gestured vaguely at his surroundings.

She nodded with understanding, then seemed to shake awake, “Sorry, I’m forgetting myself. Do you mind if I sat down? It’s just I’ve been travelling for an awfully long time; it’s been a while since I’ve been able to rest.”

Aziraphale nodded almost immediately, “Yes, yes, of course. Be my guest.” He didn’t think he’d be physically able to refuse her if he tried, there was something, something about her, “Could I get you a drink, or something to eat, perhaps?”

She smiled gratefully as she took a seat on the ancient looking yet somehow almost pristine armchair in the corner of the shop, “A glass of water would be lovely if that’s okay with you.” Aziraphale was gone in an instant, bustling around the make-shift kitchen in his backroom, quite glad to have something to do with himself if he was honest.

Crowley, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes at the stranger ever so slightly. Her story so far wasn’t adding up in his mind; if she’s been travelling for as long as she says she has, then why was her only luggage a handbag that she’d discarded on the floor when she’d sat down? And then there was the nagging in the back of his head that he was trying to stifle as best as he could. He stopped his train of thought dead in its track when he noticed that she’d been staring at him the entire time, still grinning like the Cheshire cat. There was something in her eyes, those damn eyes, that momentarily made him worry if his whole thought process was being projected above his head. She was observing him with a scrutiny that made him positively squirm. Finally, he said something, managing to stutter, “I’m gonna, erm, go, yeah,” he awkwardly pointed his fingers in the direction of where Aziraphale had left before sighing and making his much-needed exit.

She just nodded even though he could no longer see her, then suddenly sat up straight and let out a shaky breath. “Here goes nothing,” she whispered to herself. This was about to be the biggest risk she’d taken in years.

She took a deep breath and let go.

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

“Do we know her?” Crowley asked from his seat on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs like a child and cradling a cup of coffee in his hands, “Or is she just some random stranger who couldn’t read the ‘closed’ sign?”

Aziraphale looked at him as though he wanted to comment on his bluntness but had decided against it for the sake of not wanting to pick a fight, “I don’t recall meeting her at all. Surely, she would have mentioned where we know her from…”

Crowley looked at him knowingly, “But yet she seems oddly familiar and you can’t for the life of you figure out why?” His face softened when Aziraphale’s eyes widened in shock, “I know what you mean. It’s off-putting. Her, I mean, not you, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled softly at him before looking away and asking, “What do we do? Do we ask her to leave?”

“Okay, you know as well as I do that you’re too curious for your own good,” Crowley smirked, “You want to find out everything you can about her, and that’s exactly what you’re gonna try and do.”

“I, well, um,” Aziraphale stammered out, face flushed bright red much to Crowley’s amusement, “Well, when you put it like that, I sound awfully nosy.”

Crowley snorted, “Well, you are a bit but where’s the fun in minding your own business?”

“Oh, hush, you wily old serpent,” he said, pursing his lips in mock discontent.

“Ah,” Crowley grinned, “Haven’t heard that one in a while. ‘Wily old serpent’. What ever will you think of next?”

“Stop it,” Aziraphale smiled with no real malice behind his words, playfully swatting Crowley with a tea towel that he’d miracled into his hands for that precise purpose, “Now get down from the counter, we can’t put this off forever.”

“Why not?” he asked as he jumped down with a swing of his legs. That earned him another swat from Aziraphale and his evil tea towel.

They continued to bicker as they reluctantly made their way back to the front of the shop, the unease in the atmosphere palpable to point where you could cut it with a knife. Neither one was quite sure why they were so nervous to talk to the stranger.

Crowley noticed it before Aziraphale did, stopping dead in his tracks and holding a hand out for Aziraphale to stop and just notice.

For standing in the middle of the bookshop with her back to the pair of them was the stranger and it was now painfully clear that she was in no way human.

A giant pair of wings sprouting from her back, spread out with pride, not unlike their own except they were the most beautiful shade of grey. The grey of an elephant in the sunlight, of the cobblestones shining in the rain, of shields from empires of long ago. They were the mist that lay on the sea in the moments before dawn and the oh-so-cold breath on a frosty morning. They were the fog that lay on a path yet to be crossed, the ashes of people long gone. They were almost hypnotising with not only their beauty, but also with the colour itself, and a hundred questions were swirling around their heads.

Who was she? Where had she come from? And, how on Earth did she come to have grey wings?

It was only when Aziraphale’s cup smashed to the floor when the stranger whirled around to finally meet their eyes, her expression unreadable. Her eyes flicked down the mess on the floor, and she smiled warmly at one very shocked angel before forcing the mug to reassemble itself in Aziraphale’s hand with a flick of her wrist, “There, no harm done.” Her smile faltered when she noticed their blank expressions and she sighed, “I think we best sit down, don’t you?”

The pair of them exchanged a nervous glance, speaking a language with just their eyes, before wordlessly following her suggestion and taking a seat on the sofa next to Aziraphale’s desk, while she perched on the chair opposite. “So, I’m guessing you have a lot of questions–”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Crowley scoffed, earning him a small glare and pursed lips from Aziraphale who just wanted to know what was going on, thank you very much.

“No, Aziraphale, it’s okay, he’s right,” she said, holding a hand out to stop him. The silence that followed was thick with unease and uncertainty, but she didn’t notice until it was too late, “Oh, shit,” she said simply, bracing herself for their reactions.

“How do you know my name? I didn’t tell you my name, how do you know it?” Aziraphale asked, the words tumbling out of him before he could even think about what he was saying.

Her eyes widened in alarm as she rushed to settle him, “Aziraphale–”

“Who put you up to this? Who sent you here?” He was standing now, blind with panic because what if they’ve found us, what if this is it, what if these past few months were all we were going to have before they came for us-

“Aziraphale, please,” she cried before looking at Crowley for help, not quite sure what she was dealing with here.

“Angel,” he said, voice as gentle as he could make it, smiling slightly when Aziraphale finally looked at him, “Just hear her out, okay?”

The angel stayed standing for a moment, collecting his thoughts because the worry in her eyes, no one from Heaven or Hell could even pretend to care for him so much. Finally, he nodded and sat down again, a trifle warily, a blush dusting his cheeks with a sad kind of shame.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you like that,” she murmured, voice a lot quieter, a lot less confident, but tenfold more sincere. She let the moment hang and dissolve, and then she perked up a bit, getting back to the manner at hand, “And no, no one sent me here. I came of my own accord, alone, just like I always do,” her eyes trailed away for a split second. They can’t see the memories if they can’t see your eyes. They can’t see the pain if they can’t see your face.

She felt Crowley’s eyes linger on her face with curiosity, grateful that he let the flicker of hurt wash over her face. After a second, he asked, “Who are you?”

Silence followed, for a moment. She sat there, thinking to herself, because who are you is a tricky question to answer when you have things that need to stay hidden. “My name is Eloise–”

She was cut off by a loud noise that must have come from upstairs, sounding not altogether dissimilar to someone crashing through the roof, followed by an overwhelming sense of divinity.

Eloise could only find it in herself to sigh and mumble, “Fuck.”

#good omens #good omens headcanon #good omens imagine #crowley #crowley headcanon #crowley imagine #Aziraphale #aziraphale headcanon #aziraphale imagine #good omens fic #oc

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blackjack-15 · 5 years ago

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All Dogs Go To Pennsylvania — Thoughts on: Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake (DOG)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: mention of MHM, DOG, brief mention of VEN, brief discussion of two characters from ASH, brief mention of LIE, spoilers for 20th Century American History in case you’re not caught up yet.

The Intro:

Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake is, first and foremost, a game that is simultaneously over- and under-appreciated. It’s a rare phenomenon in gaming, and one that only occurs once in the Nancy Drew game series.

It has an intensely atmospheric location, but is coupled with the least fitting cast to ever grace a Nancy Drew game.

The maze (and its bird spotting/worm finding puzzles) is tedious at best, but the speakeasy is riddled with fun puzzles and pitch-perfect décor. It has the most boring, milquetoast, robotic suspects of all time, but some of the best phone characters.

And, to top it all off, it has one of the most straightforward mysteries paired with an insanely weird ending.

The thing that DOG really nails is the location. The visuals, the accents (Emily’s is a standout), the feeling of timelessness — all of that is central to this specific area of Pennsylvania and somehow Seattle-based HER really just gets it all right. Not only is this significant in this burgeoning era of Nancy Drew games, but it also goes a long way to making the game fun to play.

By this point, HER has cottoned onto the fact that their audience really likes historical background to the games, and includes it as a matter of course. For DOG, we’re learning about Prohibition-era Pennsylvania — and more specifically, bootlegger history.

To understand the game completely, a little history lesson might be in order. If you’re familiar with Prohibition and its cultural impact, you can skip the next few paragraphs.

For those not from the US, Prohibition was when a bunch of uptight, meddling people in the early 1900s decided that they needed a good Moral Panic and that the best way to get rid of the problems that can come with drinking was to give the government the power to make it illegal by adding it to the United States Constitution.

This lasted a total of 13 years (1920-33) where everyone immediately and promptly ignored the law, until the government sheepishly passed the repeal in the form of another amendment to the Constitution, having accomplished nothing other than moralistic finger-wagging and the solidification and exponential growth of organized crime and the black market in the US.

Thus, in United States culture, bootleggers and others who defied Prohibition are usually viewed as folk heroes fighting against stupid governmental overreach, rather than as criminals.

One of the most famous anecdotes from the Prohibition era is about an FBI agent who went undercover to see how long it would take to get alcohol in the major cities of the time. The longest took him a bit over 15 minutes, while the shortest was in New Orleans, Louisiana, where it took him 32 seconds due to his cab driver answering the question of where he could get alcohol by producing a bottle and saying “right here”.

This backstory is crucial not only to understanding characters like Jeff Akers, Eustacia Andropov, Vivian Whitmore, and, yes, Mickey Malone, but it’s also crucial to understanding why the game feels the way it does.

Unlike the other Nancy Drew games that touch on organized crime — Phantom of Venice, Labyrinth of Lies — this game holds a sort of fascinated reverence and “good ol’ American boy”-type feelings for Malone and his fellow gangsters.

Usually in Nancy Drew games — and almost always in the early to middle games – HER tries to send a very strong message against any type of illegal or immoral behavior (as evidenced by the games’ Fundamentalist fanbase), but DOG stands out in its sheer American pride in these law-breakers from a different age.

It’s to the benefit of the game that the character archetypes of certain suspects and/or phone characters feed into these 20s/30s Prohibition-era tropes, as it gives them some grounding in a game that really doesn’t have much to say (in contrast to how much it feels).

Other than the historical background and its modern-day underpinnings, DOG is a paint-by-numbers Nancy Drew game with one or two annoying puzzles, a strong atmosphere, fun phone friends, and a decent plot. In a first for the series, it’s also a primarily outdoor game, which would inspire future games such as Danger on Deception Island and Creature of Kapu Cave, among many others.

While I would never rate DOG in my top games (and probably not even in the top half of games, due to the overall quality of the series), there’s a lot it does right. Ultimately, the problem with the game — and the reason that it doesn’t rank too highly on a lot of lists — is not that DOG does anything wrong, per se. It’s just that, for all its good things, DOG doesn’t do enough right.

The Title:

Lots of Nancy Drew games (always excepting the first two, which were more trial-style games and thus are different on a whole host of levels) are titled with “The [adjective] [noun]”, “[noun] in a/the [adjective] [location]’ or “The [noun] of [Proper Noun/Location]”, and Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake thus stands out a bit, making the title seem more important than it would normally.

The title tells us pretty explicitly what the main conflict — and the main “haunting”, as this is a Haunted game in its trappings, if not in its actual plot — will be: the ghostly dogs that haunt the Moon Lake property. It also lets us know, in a roundabout way, the location of the game (though there are Moon Lakes in multiple places throughout the US).

However, that’s all the title does. Unlike most other titles in the series, DOG’s title doesn’t really let you play around with possible meanings or read into it at all. As good a title as it is for pointing you right to the heart of the premise of the game, it’s also a bad title because it refuses to tell you anything else about the game.

In other words, the title, much like the rest of the game, is a mixed bag that, for me at least, hangs a little more on the negative side than the positive.

Now, onto the only thing that the title points us to:

The Mystery:

Nancy’s been called to investigate by a friend of her family’s, Sally MacDonald — a photographer and land owner — due to the fact that Sally’s cabin has been experiencing nightly hauntings by ghostly dogs of the cabin’s previous owner, a Prohibition-era gangster named Mickey Malone.

Technically, Nancy is supposed to be there to visit, but Sally can’t take another night of hauntings, and books it out of there before Nancy can arrive. Upon her arrival, Nancy experiences one of these hauntings, and promptly sets out to solve the case behind the Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake.

As a mystery, DOG isn’t too standout — it’s in the vein of MHM, though not as good — and follows the basic structure of a Haunting Game: a few instances of the haunting, some logical explanations, some illogical explanations, and a few shifty people who could have caused the disturbances.

The reason behind the hauntings is established fairly quickly, as Nancy learns that Malone’s property is valuable for a number of reasons, and Sally’s purchase of it upset the plans of the other three residents of Moon Lake. What’s not clear is which of our three extremely guilty-seeming suspects (four if you consider Sally a suspect) is actually responsible.

While the culprit in this game isn’t immediately recognizable, as HER has tried to lay some red herrings and distribute blame a little more than they have in the past, it’s still easy to figure out once you’ve hit the halfway mark (and can be figured out well before that if you’re paying close attention), but that’s more due to the suspects being one of the most lackluster suspect groups in the entire series.

The Suspects:

Sally MacDonald is the owner of the so-called haunted cabin on Moon Lake, and is the “client” of the game. She bought the Moon Lake property for its picturesque views, but soon learned that the cabin came with a price beyond the monetary. Upset by the hauntings, Sally high-tails it out of Moon Lake, leaving Nancy an incredibly garbled message about the dogs and not much else. She also hasn’t apparently tested her water even though she’s been there for a month, which is a Bit Much, City Girl.

Sally’s not really a suspect, but there’s nowhere else to put her, and if the game didn’t begin with Nancy witnessing the dogs for herself, Sally would start out as a halfway-decent suspect herself, rather than a mostly-pointless phone friend.

Sally herself is one of the weakest points of the game (more on that below), which is a little sad when you consider how important her presence is to the game versus how much impact she actually has (less than anyone else)

Red Knott is the rather unfortunately named birdwatcher that perches on what I’m pretty sure is Sally’s property to begin with and yells about The Youth with the vigor that only an oldster in civvie-camo can do. He’s upset about Sally’s purchase because he wants to watch birds 24/7 and having more people — especially someone younger, as he hates those under 50 — in Moon Lake means more people disturbing the birds.

Red is rude, cantankerous, and firmly believes in having people do things for him, provided it’s an 18 year old in unisex camo gear. You’d think his and Sally’s shared hobby of photography would link them together and make Red your first-cleared buddy-buddy suspect, but Nancy’s pretty much on her own the entire game.

As a suspect, Red is pretty lackluster as well. Sure, he likes his birds, but no one believes for a moment that this dude is actually behind anything other than being a pain the butt. Red is entirely un-useful in everything, but not so unhelpful as to stymie Nancy. In a cast of nothings and no-ones, Red is especially forgettable apart from asking Nancy if she smokes.

Jeff Akers is the local park ranger and resident owner of the most firmly lodged stick in the universe. He’s also the strongest tie to the Prohibition-era backstory as the Lawmen opposing people like Mickey Malone and Valerie.

It’s a shame he doesn’t do his job better; Jeff should be the embodiment of Consequences when Nancy goes too far, but instead, he barely shows up to have his dog be a red herring and then disappears into Moon Lake like some Nessie-style monster of Little Consequence.

As a suspect? Well, Jeff isn’t going to tick many boxes. Sure, he’s got a dog — albeit not the right type of dog at all — and he’s not fond of Nancy, but pretty much no one in this game is a fan of Nancy, so that doesn’t do much for his suspect-ness at all.

In a game where dogs are bad news, Jeff is all bark and no bite. He’s a comic relief character that shouldn’t be a comic relief character, and a present-day presence when he should be a relic of a past time.

Emily Griffin is the owner of a local bait shop/general store/Prohibition-era antique corner who definitely only sells Legally Obtained items, thank you very much. She’s got that cheeriness that HER liked to conflate with friendliness, ignoring that they’re two very different things and produce two very different reactions in the player (think in ASH Toni’s cheeriness versus Alexei’s friendliness).

She’s the one most tied to the past through her side hustle of selling Prohibition antiques, and it’s obvious that she must be the culprit through that reveal alone. Unfortunately, that’s her only tie to the Prohibition era, as nothing else about her is a shadow of Malone, Vivian, or any other bit of the past we learn about in the game.

As a suspect, Emily is the best, but still isn’t fabulous. There’s little depth to her beyond simple greed, and her interactions with Nancy might as well be with a slightly cagey computer rather than a person. She’s not sinister enough to be scary (apart from one subtle moment covered below), but not silly enough to be funny. She perhaps best represents DOG as a game: she’s a mixed bag with a few shining bits, but is ultimately forgettable.

The Favorite:

There are a few things that DOG does righter than rain, so let’s take a run-down.

The first and most important thing that DOG nails is the atmosphere. I’ve mentioned it above, so I won’t dwell too much, but HER really just gets rural Pennsylvania right, and it’s an absolute treat to play in that atmosphere.

The next is also covered above, but I really adore the good ol’ American appreciation for our bootlegger heroes. It would have been so easy to demonize these people who did, admittedly, break the law, but instead HER for once doesn’t play the wet blanket and acknowledges that sometimes (most of the time, really), American folk heroes are a bit good and a bit bad.

My favorite puzzle is incredibly lame, but it’s the Roman Numeral puzzle. I have a slightly secret, mostly nerdy love for puzzles that use things that are useful in the real world, and having taken Latin in college, this puzzle really actually helped me be able to 1) pass accelerated Lain and 2) feel more confident when looking at dates. It’s also just kinda fun and relaxing. I like puzzles that make me sort stuff.

My favorite moment in the game is probably when you first step into the speakeasy and Malone’s presence is almost palpable. Every time I walk in, I’m always looking around for someone to speak to, even though I know the saloon is empty. It’s a great moment and an appropriate reveal given the heft of the historical background.

Once again, the Hardy Boys are a bright spot in this game, as are Vivian and Eustacia. Really, the phone conversations are the best part of DOG — not just because the actual game is a bit lackluster, but more because they’re really just that good.

I’ve also gotta give credit for the insanely terrifying tidbit of Emily trying to give Nancy calming tea that would poison her after setting the shed on fire. It’s a great moment of fridge horror, and shows that Emily does have some subtlety (attempted murder with a femur bone notwithstanding) when she wants to.

The Un-Favorite:

There are probably as many bad things as good, however, and it’s here that DOG starts to show its weaknesses.

As mentioned above, Sally really drags down the parts of the game she’s in, as she could have been a good character and ultimately winds up not even being a character at all.

If you restructure the beginning and have a little more subtle haunting of the dogs happening to a cabin and then cut to Sally leaving Nancy a voicemail/talking to her on the phone — but Nancy sees no evidence of dogs, just general mild destruction — then you start out a haunting game on the right foot.

Proving Sally right about the dogs and right to leave Moon Lake from the beginning weakens the game, and is one of my least favorite bits of it.

As far as least favorite puzzles go, there are two contenders. The maze in the woods is a high point for some, but as someone with a little trouble with distinguishing visual stimuli in the first place, it can be (and usually is) absolute hell. None of the puzzles are hard except for the bird-spotting puzzle, which isn’t hard as much as it is frustrating.

My least favorite moment is the beginning haunting simply because it builds the game up to a point that it never reaches again, not even with the hilarious screwball ending. When the best moment of the game is the first two minutes, you’re not looking at a satisfying game.

The cast is often what makes or breaks a game and, unfortunately, this is a game where the cast breaks it. There’s simply nothing in the suspects to propel the game forward, which gives the game a feel of more of a graphic novel-type game than a whodunnit. And, spoiler alert, it doesn’t make for a good graphic novel game either.

The lack of length in this section isn’t a testament to the value of the game itself; rather, it shows DOG for what it is: just unremarkable. Not good enough to be solid, not bad enough to be an outlier.

The Fix:

So how would I fix DOG?

There’s not much you can do with the current cast of characters, despite their tenuous ties to Prohibition tropes, so I’d pretty much start over.

Make Sally a mid-game presence (actual tangible suspect, thank you very much) and shift Emily from the ‘bumpkin’ archetype to someone a bit more world-wise (though keep the accent, it’s fantastic) and hide her involvement in dredging the bottom of the lake a little longer (or implicate someone else in it first, whichever works).

Give Red something to do to make him a bit more suspicious and use him as Nancy’s buddy once Sally comes in (to keep the number of suspects the same) and have his photography actually come in handy. As for Jeff…an obstructionist presence is fine, but root him a bit more in history as a figure of the law rather than a sissified bureaucrat whose only character trait is that he loves to give tickets.

The puzzles could also solve to be more memorable and not auto-solved (save for the bird-spotting puzzle, which is a Disgrace) by the game, but part of that is the age of the game.

DOG is structured as a haunting game, so beginning it with Nancy experiencing a haunting full-stop is a horrible beginning. It takes out any suspense and any sense that this might just be an old legend and minor sabotage getting the better of Sally (or better, Sally damaging her own property in order to hype up its status as Malone’s house and then flip it for a profit/get her photos of the “hauntings” featured in a nationwide story) and instead gives us the most cut and dry (emphasis on dry) haunting game in the series.

Beginning DOG in the way that HER does, while a great cinematic (especially for 2002), drains the suspense and Mystery out of the game like sap from a pine tree. We’re still left with a structure of sorts, but it’s just not what it could have been.

Ultimately, even with DOG fixed, I don’t think it would be a standout game for anything (except possibly atmosphere). At its best, DOG is simply a three-star entry in a series; no one’s least favorite, very few people’s favorite, and memorable only for its initial haunting rather than for its plot, characters, or mystery.

#nancy drew #nancy drew games #clue crew #ghost dogs of moon lake #nancy drew meta #DOG #my meta #video games

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mwcowan · 5 years ago

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Mark & Georgia’s Big Trip

Chapter Seven – Miscellaneous Ramblings II

Another busy week, but that’s become the norm. At least this week we saw good progress towards getting everything together that we’ve been trying to get together. But not much of a theme so just some thoughts on the important events of the week.

Caretakers

The biggest milestone this week was that we selected and hired our housekeeper and caretaker. Plus their two boys – we will soon have a new family in our home, and we’re very excited. You’ll soon meet Ranny and Pina, and their boys Prince Denver and Ethan, who will take up residence in our caretaker’s apartment.

Ranny (pronounced “Ronny” – remember that the vowels AEIOU are pronounced here, without exception, Ah, Eh, Ee, Oh, Oo) for the previous seven years has worked as a groundskeeper for Kawayan Cove so he comes with excellent gardening and tree maintenance chops. Pina has been a homemaker, is a great cleaner and a good cook; Georgia says she’s a good student and will quickly learn our favorite dishes. She already knows that I like fresh fruit every morning – half the battle’s won already! Prince Denver (8 yrs) and Ethan (4 yrs) are just normal boys, though very polite. I think it’s going to be fun having them around.

Capiz

Capiz is both a province in the Philippines, on Panay Island, as well as an oyster from the area known for its special shell. A capiz oyster is on the left, the harvested and cleaned shell on the right. One shell of the oyster is flat, growing to 3-5 inches in diameter, and importantly, translucent.

You find all sorts of items here made from capiz – Christmas ornaments, outdoor lights, ashtrays, you name it. When we lived in the Bay Area, Georgia always said you could tell a Filipino’s house because of the capiz lights in the trees. Harvesting and producing craft items from the shells is today the principal livelihood of the people of Capiz. Historically, capiz is important in Philippines heritage and culture, one that’s given away by the Capiz oyster’s Western name: windowpane oyster. For thousands of years the shell served as the “glass” in Filipino windows; many older homes still feature these windows today.

So why this story about capiz? On this week’s trip to Manila, we were wandering around a mall and walked into an antique store. Stacked against the back wall we found a number of dusty old capiz windows. The shop owner had no hard information about their provenance but said they were likely from the 1800’s. They looked it; the Narra and Molave wood was weathered but the craftsmanship was still evident and not of this century. No nails or screws, the window frames are joined with hand-made mortise and tenons, held with wooden pegs. The capiz was dirty, but almost 100% intact – it looks fragile but is actually pretty sturdy stuff. We’re not sure yet what we’ll do with them, but we now have three panels. After an afternoon spent cleaning them we have a treasure we’ll proudly display.

Calamansi

I don’t think Calamansi has been featured in my Strange Fruit of the Day series; it’s really not that strange anyway. Calamansi is the citrus fruit of the Philippines. About ¾ to one inch in size, they look a lot like a key lime but aren’t limes. The insides and juice are orange, but they’re not oranges. They aren’t lemons either, they’re just Calamansi. They flavor many Filipino dishes: you’ll typically squeeze one onto your Pancit before eating, or onto your grilled fish, and they’re often an ingredient in the dipping sauces served with many dishes.

There are no limes here, so I had a dilemma: how to make a proper Gin and Tonic. Finding decent gin was easy (S&R/Costco), and after searching a few stores I found tonic water. But no limes. Calamansi to the rescue! I’m now able to enjoy my favorite summer cocktail. And it’s always summer here! Cheers!

The Massage Table

Massage is a way of life in the Philippines. Go to almost any beach and there will be massage tents set up, in the city there are plenty of establishments, or just call for home service. My only complaint, actually my neck’s complaint, is that the traditional Filipino massage is performed on a flat bed, not a massage table. You’ll sometimes find a real massage table but it’s rare. Fast forward to our weekly trip to S&R, and there it was! My neck had a sudden seizure as I tried to walk past, so into the cart it went! We set it up on the “meditation deck” and brought in a masseuse that Hervé and Lett turned us on to. She’s expensive, about $12 an hour, but good. Very good. Ahhhhhhhh, heaven!

Friends with Furniture

Our friends from Manila, Noel and Michelle Tanada, who have been mentioned before in my blogs (they’re the members at the Balesin Island Club with whom we’ve had some memorable trips) visited us yesterday. I don’t think I’ve ever said much about them. Michelle is a former local TV star/singer; after that career a serial entrepreneur, starting and running businesses in the advertising field. Noel was originally headed for a career in law, but left that world for his art, which encompasses traditional forms such as painting and sculpture, but his real passion lies with interior design and furniture design. In all they do they only use native and sustainable materials, or recycled materials, and always local labor. You can learn more and view some of their products at www.ecohomeart.com. They are also both active environmentalists, deeply involved with coral rehabilitation (www.coralmovement.org). This shot is with them at Balesin Island last year.

Today’s visit was more than a social call as they delivered a van full of furniture, some of the last items for our living room. We’d asked Noel to create some custom bar chairs, a breakfast table and chairs, and a credenza. Since we live in Kawayan Cove he chose a bamboo theme (kawayan is the Tagalog word for bamboo). He also brought a special floor lamp for us. All beautiful and unique pieces we’re proud to have.

House Tour

Finally all the major furniture is here and the house is feeling pretty livable (though we did fine with just a plastic card table and a mattress on the floor for the first 2 weeks…). So, I’ll wrap this up with a photo tour of our newly furnished rooms.

First up is the living room. The coffee and end tables from the acacia slab have arrived, we’re very happy with them and like the way they go with the sofa and love seat. The turtle on the coffee table is from Puerto Vallarta and has a special connection with Kawayan Cove – every fall Olive Ridley sea turtles arrive at Kawayan Cove to lay their eggs.

These are two of the barstools Noel designed for us. Using 100% native and sustainable materials, the backs feature split bamboo and the upholstery is hand-woven Tikog grass from Leyte. Besides a warm an inviting look, Tikog is durable and has a very nice, soft feel. It’s woven into many items here, historically the Banig which is the traditional Filipno sleeping mat.

Also in the same style and materials are this breakfast table and chairs. Noel feels the table design is sexy, resembling a woman’s curves. You decide!

One of Noel’s more creative pieces is this dramatic floor lamp, reflected in our corner windows. The lamp is made of water hyacinth reeds. Beyond being a sustainable material, the use of water hyacinth has an additional benefit as it’s a nuisance here, growing quickly and clogging rivers and harbors.

New in our master bedroom is this computer desk, made of mahogany from our design by Boyet, one of the construction foremen for our contractor. Boyet also made all of the cabinets in the house.

Our small guest bedroom, the one with the great view, has two new side tables of acacia, which we picked up pre-made at the same place where we got our slab. Note the baskets on the wall, which made their way here from the White Sulphur Springs Ranch rummage sale!

Last up is our second guest bedroom. In trade for the lack of a view you get a larger room, with a sofa and coffee table, which is the final piece of our acacia slab. Any of you who visited the Mokawk Community Resource Center last fall will recognize two paintings by Tyler Jacobsen, and a woven wall hanging by Salli Wise. Sorry the bed’s not made, we’ll make sure that’s done before you arrive!

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kootenaygoon · 5 years ago

Photo

So,

Before changing ownership a decade previous, Tony’s Taphouse had been a biker bar called the Civic. Notorious for its rough clientele and routine bouts of violence, and for harbouring regulars who acted like nocturnal animals, most locals knew it as the Zoo. It had been the preferred haunt for the Hell’s Angels, who had long since been banned from the premises.

“It took us a long time to turn things around,” my boss told me one night, while I manned the door for a Val Kilmer and the New Coke concert. A crowd of twenty-somethings were smoking all around us.

“Whenever we tried to get people to behave they’d say ‘don’t you know this is the Zoo?’ And I would say ‘yes, and I’m the new zookeeper’.”

My boss reminded me of a small child in an enormous body, slightly immature and with a propensity for breaking stuff. He had a reputation for overdoing things, to the point that the Nelson Police Department had nailed him for multiple assault charges. The other bouncers told me he was well known for choke-slamming unruly patrons into unconsciousness, which was the reason he was no longer allowed to assist us when we ejected the city’s shitheads and drunks. The guy was easily 300 pounds, and scary as hell when provoked. The rest of the time he was an amiable teddy bear, quick to laugh and always game to sing “Chocolate Salty Balls” from South Park at karaoke, much to the chagrin of his embarrassed wife.

Most of my shifts were spent alongside a fellow ginger beard named Luke who liked playing bad cop to my good cop. During the day he worked at a pet food store, and he was well-known as a huge softie when it came to animals. While I had a tendency to treat Tony’s like my own personal Cheers, he was monosyllabic and ominous. Late into the night we would hang by the entrance swapping jokes and taking turns shovelling back lettuce wraps and chicken strips, clad in all black.

Eventually I suggested we should update our uniforms. There was a local barber named Chris Brach who bounced at Spiritbar and I admired how he dressed and carried himself like an old-school gentleman. We ultimately settled on matching vests with dress button-down shirts, with each bouncer choosing their favourite colour. I chose a blood red that was almost purple, while Luke went with sky blue. Eventually the whole team adopted this new look, making the whole place that much classier.

Working at Tony’s gave me a whole new perspective on Nelson. I knew who was doing drugs, who was cheating on their spouse, and who was banned from the premises until they came grovelling back to the owners. The Nelson Leafs were preening and omnipresent as peacocks, and in the early hours of the evening I’d encounter the more wholesome members of society as they engaged in events like paint night. Sometimes people would approach me with the latest issue of the Nelson Star, commenting on stories or complimenting me on the cover photo. The print edition was becoming increasingly irrelevant, but Tony’s was one of the few places I could regularly see people consuming it alongside their beer.

From where we stood during our shifts, we looked out at a sports bar that took up the ground floor of the Adventure Hotel. Because we were open later than any other establishment in Nelson, we would watch as the late night crowd funnelled in our direction. Crowds of drunk twenty-somethings would march diagonally across the intersection, ignoring the cross-walks, and it was our job to interpret whether or not they could come into Tony’s based on their lurching gait. Some would nod solemnly when we denied them access, while others would whip themselves into deranged frenzies. They would scream their threats to the uncaring black sky, or demand to talk to the owners. These people pissed me off.

“You’re a good bouncer and everyone loves you, but the other staff have told me you have a tendency to go from zero to sixty pretty quick,” my other boss told me, during a performance review. She was the owner.

“We don’t think it’s a problem, but it’s something we want you to watch out for. Obviously this job can be stressful at times, so it’s up to you to keep your temper in check. It’s about customer service.”

Though there were plenty of threats of violence at Tony’s, it was rare that we actually had to put our hands on people. Most were cowed into submission by our size, and knew they had to play nice if they wanted continued access to the bar. We tried to kill them with kindness, calling them cabs and reassuring them that they’d be welcomed back once they sobered up. More than once I found myself consoling despondent drunks who were horrified by their own behaviour, going through a break-up, or grieving. Some were so confused and inebriated they didn’t know how to get home. I came to love these idiots, or at least most of them, because I considered them part of the Tony’s family.

The most interesting employee was a behemoth brute named Gordo, a holdover from the days of the Zoo, who looked exactly like a bearded Bobby Baccala. The female staff adored him because of his gentle, benevolent presence. He made people feel safe. He wasn’t a bouncer anymore because, like my boss, he’d gone overboard a few too many times. He lived downstairs and oversaw the daily operations, and was only called to help during emergencies. He was the type of guy you didn’t want to fuck with, ever. He loved Tony’s and everyone on staff intensely, and if violence was needed he was more than capable of dispensing it. I’d never met someone with such a fascinating mix of kindness and malevolence to his personality, and I admired how effectively he funnelled his anger in appropriate directions.

One night, during a slow period, he stood out on the street and regaled me with stories of his bouncing days in Toronto. During those years he’d been stabbed and shot multiple times, a fact he delivered with a shy chuckle.

“This one guy was shaking my hand, right? And with his other hand he stabbed me right here,” Gordo said, pointing to his rib cage.

“So I pulled him close to me and snapped his elbow backwards, just like this.”

Gordo recreated the scene with a smile on his face, demonstrating how the guy’s arm had bent the wrong way while the bones snapped and popped. He’d regained control of the situation while the knife was still plunged hilt-deep into his side. He laughed and wiped his eyes, remembering.

“I was a lot bigger back then, if you can imagine that. So the knife didn’t end up doing much damage. It didn’t hit anything significant. Meanwhile this guy’s a puddle on the ground in front of me, whimpering like a little girl.”

When I wasn’t on the door, I would work my way slowly through the lounge area and out to the back patio where people were allowed to smoke. There was a row of comfortable couches and a long counter where people could pull up stools and drink under the gaze of Elephant Mountain. At times I couldn’t believe I was being paid to socialize, and the dance floor playlist introduced me to a new favourite artist: a young Swedish woman named Tove Lo. If we’re talking body, she sang, You got a perfect one so put it on me. If you do me right, we’ll fuck for life, on and on and on.

Paisley had finally moved home to be with her parents, and her absence had proven to be a boon to my mental health. I still missed my dogs desperately but I was finally free to move on without her constant surveillance and gossip. I decided early on that I wouldn’t date anyone on staff, but there was no shortage of young women who would find excuses to linger by the door or stand outside smoking, sizing me up. Most nights I was still ending up at Natalya’s, where I would crawl into her bed and cap the night off with an early morning fuck in the dark. She’d leave her front door unlocked and we’d pant through our routine without speaking a word. She’d resigned herself to the fact I wasn’t interested in anything beyond that, and she never bothered me with small talk. We had what we had, and that was it.

The sleep deprivation involved with working at Tony’s ended up meaning that I spent most of my weekends asleep, recovering in Brendan’s basement and only leaving the house for necessities. Sunday was my only day off, and I needed that down time to get in the right headspace for the Star. I had a couple of ambitious series going on, including one about the Columbia River Treaty, and I needed my mental faculties operating properly to adequately approach these subjects. I could sense that Ed was growing tired of my rock star attitude and reluctance to put in a full 40-hour work week. I kept finding myself asking why I was still there, but I didn’t have another option available. Both jobs and housing were scarce in Nelson, and I was barely holding on.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” I told my friend Tia one night. She worked at the Hume Hotel but had started her own business called Wurst Dog. We’d been discussing whether I could find some sort of entrepreneurial gig to transition to once I was finished with journalism.

“You just have to take a chance and jump, kid,” she said. “Then see where you land. I’m sure there’s all kinds of people in this town who would give you a job doing social media or something.”

“Or maybe I could be a full-time bouncer and write on the side? Finally finish my manuscript? I dunno.”

Tia smiled and mussed my hair.

“I believe in you,” she said. “You’ve got this.”

The Kootenay Goon

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pass3rby · 6 years ago

Text

Caught By Your Past

30th Part

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Pairing: Altair x Malik Warnings: modern AU, mature, OOC, original female character; unbetaed.

“... I swear this face looked much nicer before as well.”

“It didn't.” Also, he won't fuckin' ask for details of how this happened for the fuck zero would it solve anyway.

It was presumably only sheer luck that Gie arrived just then. A coincidence that saved Altair and prevented one solid explosion. Things being the way they were, he rather decided to leave the room without a single word.

He was furious. Every single detail was making him even more angry and agitated. The clock ticking. The same fucking clock that hid in plain sight when he wanted to know what the time was. A nurse greeting him cheerily. Was everything and everyone mocking him?! For his stupidity? For his lapse in judgement?! For the rage that got swiftly painted over with realization before a thick layer of shock landed on top?

The whole hospital seemed like a stage he was never interested in stepping on. Finding the fastest route outside became a goal which was blinking at him like a bright red, neon sign. He had no idea what he looked like. Maybe his stoic façade held. Maybe not. Who cares.

He could've inferred that this wasn't a joke. But could he really? Altair was capable of quite considerable number of things. Even flinging himself off a cliff. Literally. What was Malik supposed to anticipate from the asshole? Anything, that's what. Idiot. He added a few more terms of 'endearment' for good measure. The fuming didn't lessen.

Finally getting out of the complex that crowded him either with the intrusive sense of surrounding sickness or the controverting smell of too much disinfectants, he had no intention of stopping right outside the main entrance he just passed through. Even his BIOS running mind was capable of a more advanced plan.

Continuing down the road, his legs marching on until he chanced upon the nearest store. Situated on the very corner of the street, one of those tiny businesses. He didn't bother its owner very long, only purchasing a single pack of cigarettes before leaving again without so much as goodbye.

- Cliché much? -

Screw you, nobody asked your opinion.

That was just it. Not that his critical side didn't thrive in the ashes of an enemy, but right now, it could be a dear and shut up. Only this once.

Like that had a chance of actually happening.

Walking off in a general direction of the hospital's main entrance that he left through not that long ago, he released the suppressed mess out of its chains. However, instead of flooding him all at once, his thoughts rolled and turned in one steady, lazy stream. It would be almost peaceful if it wasn't for the disquiet hanging over his whole mindscape.

Well if his head won't start...

Fishing out one of the nails to the coffin, he lighted it only to start coughing half a drag in.

Did he smoke? Not particularly; close to never, really. He didn't like the taste much and the level of being able to sort through things easier wasn't that overmuch better to make the smoking worth it. Most of the time. As to why did he even started with it then, he'd simply been stressed; too much of everything except time. That's all there was to the story. Not everything in his life was Altair-connected, fuck you very much.

Continuing with the drag-coughing fit-drag-cough style, it was glaringly obvious that he didn't learn the skill much successfully. Well, at least he wasn't a stressed-out smoker; the one with shaking hand and shattered mindscape. No. He simply needed to sort his thoughts, put them back in order, possibly a different perspective. Re-evaluate. Recalibrate, while all around ruled chaos. This time around, the monster raged more inside him than out, though.

The hospital's front door were on sight already. His pace slowed a bit.

You can go and die for real, see if I care.

That was what he thought when he found out that Altair's broken hand and injured neck that he came home with, were faked.

Did he really think that leveling things up, including hospital staff and everything, will work better? It was still a sick joke, nothing more!

Exactly the same blind anger submerged him, gripped him with its claws, hungrily eating away at his insides and sanity just moments ago. Again.

He would never be one of those people who believed that just their thought brought an injury upon someone, but it did come across like an awfully immediate coincidence. For the second part, he wasn't beyond admitting that he could've used his brain more before storming into a particular hospital room either. The thought that Altair feigned injury once already should've kicked in his mind if only for the eureka moment that would remind him that Altair never tried the same strategy twice if it didn't work the first time around; he adapted.

If he was to judge, everything that happened? It was a simple confirmation, a reminder.

Life is a bitch and we all are her toys.

Taking another drag, the dry cough was on a close follow.

The whole squad of malice and misery must've been on call today, because as an elderly woman stepped outside the hospital to presumably give in to the same sin he was currently committing, apparently, his coughing fit insulted her pride of a smoker or at least sensibilities for she sent him a cross look, possibly counting on him to 'beat it'. Like that would work; not even in his teenage years.

Grow an earplug, turn around or sashay off yourself, madam.

To make his stand clear, he stomped the butt, which was all that now remained of his cigarette, out only to fluidly reach for a new one and lighting it.

Pinocchio wouldn't be able to get his nose as up as the woman just did; not even when lying horizontal and telling lie after lie for a whole day straight.

What was her problem? You didn't have to be or look representative to have a right to smoke. As far as he knew, the state didn't issue Cool Smoker licenses.

Inhaling a fresh lungful of nicotine, his respiratory system acted up accordingly like several times before already.

You just didn't.

His eyes narrowed as the woman tried a scathing look on him. And furrowing her eyebrows? Really?

Lady. I had a really bad day. You don't want this kind of duel with me, he tried to infuse the words into his stare with surprising amount of patience which was, however, rapidly growing short.

Forget the intensity of a glare; he would beat her with ease by the brow hair count alone.

Feel free to watch me choke on this one, hag.

The battle of wills would've probably lasted much longer if the graying matron hadn't have decided to show him how it's done. Only to stop in the middle of the lecture before she subtly started patting the bare minimum of pockets her outfit offered, openly searching through her handbag when she didn't find what she was looking for.

Aww... Poor soul. No lighter?

She looked up at him, no stealth level whatsoever this time around.

His finger slid along the surface of his own lighter still in hand.

He impassively raised an eyebrow.

Giving an outright scowl in turn, she closed her handback again with a definitive air to it and with head held high, the intruder stomped off back inside the hospital.

He watched as her figure disappeared behind the sliding doors of the hospital entrance, smoking leisurely, before deciding that now was an opportune moment to move along. He couldn't summon any enthusiasm at the idea of venturing further or even out of the hospital grounds where was a notably higher concentration of people, though.

Before he could even get to the 'on the other hand' part, a raindrop fell on his nose. Looking up, the sky and the ozone in the air pretty much decided. When he finished what was left of his cigarette, a light drizzle was well underway and by the time the motion sensors of the main doors detected him approaching, the weather reached the "Singing In The Rain" level.

Being not the only one who sought shelter inside and at the same time not ready to go to one particular hospital room, he rather quickly picked a hall at random and off he went.

The weather outside basically gave him a free pass to go wherever since the nurses would be hard-pressed to keep track of everyone inside and passing through right now. wandering around didn't bring him much rest, though. Thanks to the uniformity of the hospital's layout and interior, his attention turned back to the flood inside his head all on its own.

Although he never said anything out loud, he didn't feel too hot about Altair's job, that's a fact. An hour ago, as he'd stood in the open door of Altair's hospital room, taking in the sight, there had been dead silence in his head and only one thought ruling over the otherwise empty space:

He might have accepted that Altair flirted with death on a regular basis, but he sure as hell is not gonna let the fucker play with him and make fun of that!

After reading the medical report and hearing the addition Altair provided, after he realized this wasn't another failed fake attempt to get at him, it would be only understandable if his mind did something along the lines that were usually written in books.

'Scattered in one millisecond, unmoving and with no wind boring into the sails at another. Lost and helpless either way.

Frozen in fright.'

The real deal, the feeling turned out to be quite different. It was nothing and everything, switching up lightning quick. Nothing more, no direction. Just nothing. And everything. On repeat.

Arriving at a crossroad – an imaginary and literal one at the same time, he turned left.

Altair liked to play. No, he loved to play. With others. With boundaries. With his life. Back then, now... The future wasn't about to change that either. In all likelihood he was that way in his previous lives, too, if one believed in reincarnation and let's not continue with alternate universes because he understood shit about it and it was really more of Altair's specialty, so screw that – out of principle if nothing else. Wouldn't the dick like that. And yes, pun intended, whatever!

He's still wild.

We knew that, his brain said, at peace.

He's dangerous.

We knew that, his heart answered, serene.

Well, I'm glad you fuckin' knew that!

You knew it, too. The response was as calm as the previous ones if not even stronger in its tranquility.

He was utterly furious again. Because his sense of self-preservation was acting up again. Fighting these answers. Wanting to run away. To not repeat the same, to stop this before he'll have to relive what he already, in a sense, had once. To hell with what Malik decided on before. It wanted to hightail it out of here.

Well, the self-preservation could go and suck on it, because Malik wasn't leaving. That being said, some events in your life did seem to keep happening over and over again. Too soon. Getting his hopes up, thinking that he's got time before getting struck down.

You cannot know anything, only suspect. You must expect to be wrong, to have overlooked something. Anticipate. He'd never limited this strictly to his job alone so why did he forget now?

No use thinking of the past for it's gone, don't think of the future because it has to come, think of the present because that's where you are.

He didn't get much further than that, though.

“Ah, there you are,” sounded behind his back, relief of the speaker almost palpable. “The miracle; this place is a labyrinth and you're not picking up your phone. I was going mad.” Turning around, he saw Gie closing in on him, stopping only when her arms were already wrapped around him.

His body would have a better chance of giving a twitch after looking at Medusa Gorgona.

What.

“Something happened?” His lips actually moved. That was good.

She released him from the chokehold to berate him straight away:

“Yes, you ass. You disappeared, and I couldn't get a hold of you. That's what happened.”

One day. One day... His ambition to reach at least forty before dying was getting quite a workout as of late.

In order to busy themselves, his hands went for the pockets in search of the piece of technology Gie mentioned, however, the only thing they've encountered was his wallet, car keys and the pack of cigarettes he's forgotten all about by now.

Well, that explains it.

“I must've left it in the car.”

“I was thinking about heading back home for the night anyway. I really got to tackle the test tomorrow. You ready as well?”

“I have a few more things to do.”

“So you... gonna go get your phone...?” He was well-aware of which way the wind was blowing. She didn't hope for an escort to the exit.

“No, I'm not. I'm gonna give you my keys,” he did exactly that, “and if you bring my phone to the lobby in five minutes, you can drive home in the car.”

“What if I drive off straight away?”

He gave her a daring, unimpressed look.

“The time's ticking.”

“Slave-driver.” But she shot from the spot anyway.

That's what you get for making him age in one second flat.

He better get a move on, too, though. Fishing out the nicotine batch, he left it on an unattended reception desk on his way out. He won't need those anymore; let the hospital staff play a game of lucky finder.

Little did he know that he left the cigarettes in the cancer ward.

A/N:

“No use thinking of the past for it's gone, don't think of the future because it has to come, think of the present because that's where you are.” - Kazi Shams (a writer/poet who resides in Canada)

#cbyp #assassin's creed #altmal

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yournewapartment · 7 years ago

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How do I find a decent apartment, and like I'm general be an adult

Here’s information on Apartment Hunting, but can you be more specific about what “Adulting” activities you’re interested in learning about? xx

Apartment Hunting 101

Overview: There’s no getting around it, apartment hunting is a stressful process. The waiting and wondering gets the best of everyone, so give yourself a break and remember not to be too hard on yourself. The more prepared and decisive you are, the better off you’ll be!

1. Step One: The most important step in this entire process is coming up with your list of “Need and Won’t”. This list can always be adjusted in the spur of the moment, but will act as a baseline to help you easily disregard impractical apartments. Before you even start your search, sit down with any roommates (SO or otherwise) and come up with a list. Here is my list:

Need: Dishwasher, pet friendly, heat included.

Won’t: First floor apartment, all or mostly carpeted apartment, no closet space.

2. Step Two: Decide your price range. The paycheck to paycheck life is not a great one to live, so try to find an apartment that still allows you to put anywhere from $100-$500 into savings every month. Figure out how much you make monthly, with taxes taken out. If you’re paid every other week, this is two paychecks. If you’re paid every week, this is four paychecks. Start with your total monthly income, and subtract the following expenses. Let’s say you make $1,000 with taxes taken out:

Rent - Let’s say you’re living with a roommate, and your rent is only $500 per month.

Electric - My electric expense is $60 a month for a one bedroom. Once again, you’re living with a roommate so let’s say that you pay half of that. $30.

Internet - $30 a month internet only. Please don’t waste your money on cable. Just use your mom’s Netflix account.

Travel expenses - I spend about $85 a month on gas. Let’s say you use public transportation and spend around $100.

Food - Figure you’ll be spending $100 per person each month. So that’s another $100.

Misc expense: Let’s just add an additional $50 worth of expenses on. Because you never know what’ll happen.

That leaves you $130 a month extra to put in savings or to use in the event of an emergency! That’s awesome. Substitute your own numbers in, and figure out how much you can afford for rent. Immediately disregard any apartments that do not fit in this budget.

3. Step Three: The best way to find dependable apartments is to consult with your fellow apartment renters. Consult with coworkers, friends, family- anyone who is currently renting in the area that you would like to rent in. Get the inside scoop on potential apartments, both their advantages and their pitfalls. If you don’t know anyone who is renting where you’d like to rent, here are some other apartment hunting options:

Craigslist: Obviously

Drive-bys: Literally drive around until you find a cool looking apartment complex. Find their rental office and go right in, this is how I found my first apartment.

Your college: The Dean’s Office will have a list of apartment offerings to give kids who don’t qualify for on-campus housing.

This Site: A list of the top ranked apartment hunting sites.

4. Set up an appointment: After finding a potential apartment, consult with the landlord or apartment representative to set up a date and time to see the apartment. Respond promptly to any email or phone call they leave for you. On the flip side, if they aren’t prompt in their response to you RUN.

The first apartment I ever looked at, my boyfriend and I showed up on time and the landlord wasn’t there. We called her and she said that she was running late, and told us that the apartment was open and we could show ourselves inside. Serious red flag, but we gave it the benefit of the doubt and went in. Long story short, she never showed up. She gave us a tour of the apartment over the phone and kept saying that she was five minutes away, but never came. We later found out that her rental office was two minutes from the apartment we looked at. Talk about flakey! We told her we weren’t interested, if she can’t even show up to show us the apartment, how the hell can we depend on her to fix any problems we might have? Because you’re young and inexperienced, some landlords will try to give you the run around. Your age is no concern of their’s, and has no bearing on how you will act as a tenant. Here are some red flags for flaky landlords:

Not contacting you within one day of leaving them a message. Disregarding the weekends.

Not showing up when they say they will.

Repeatedly telling you that you’re “young” or “inexperienced”.

Telling you that the apartment “is good for college kids” or “a good first apartment” (that just means it’s a shit hole).

If they tell you that the apartment has a large turnover (people are leaving for a reason).

If you speak with one person on the phone, and meet a different person who shows you the apartment.

If they can’t or refuse to give you the exact rent amount.

If they tell you that have to “run some numbers” based on your history. An apartment’s rent should be the same for everybody.

If they can’t answer basic questions about service providers for the apartment.

If you get a weird vibe from them. Listen to your intuition! This is the person who is going to be responsible for fixing all your apartment related problems, you will be dealing with them every month at least. If they seem unreliable, don’t sign the lease!

5. Step Five: Find your appointment buddy! Never, ever, EVER go to look at a potential apartment by yourself. I don’t care how friendly Wendy seems online, she may be a serial killer. There’s no way to tell. Here’s a list of people who can accompany you:

Your older brother

Your boyfriend/girlfriend

Your Aunt Meredith

Your second cousin

Your friend who can scream really loudly

Your Mother

Your Step Mother

Your old nosey neighbor who smells like cats

Literally anyone you can trust

Bribe them with chocolate, I don’t care. Take someone with you! If you absolutely cannot find anyone to go with you, then you need to take additional precautions. Here are some options:

Kitestring

“Share My Location” on your Iphone

Pepper Spray

Posting to Facebook the address you are going to and when you are expected to arrive and leave.

Rescheduling your appointment to a date and time when you can be accompanied

Checklist

A mental checklist is good in theory, but will you remember it when you’re actually at the prospective apartment with your Aunt Meredith? I think not! Make a physical list of some of the following points, and feel free to add your own. my list is super extensive, but that’s just who I am. I am detail oriented.

Tuck this list in your back pocket and consult it when the person showing you the apartment is not looking.

Expense related

How much is the rent?

Is the rent just the rent, or are there any amenities included? Some apartments include heat, hot water, or electric expenses.

Is hot water included (if the apartment has a washer/dryer in it, then the water is probably a separate expense)?

What Internet service providers are available?

What electric service providers are available?

Do I have to pay for garbage removal?

What is the average electric expense that other renters deal with?

Ask when rent is due. Find out what the rent check procedure is.

Basic

What type of heating/cooling is provided?

What appliances are in the kitchen? *If there is no oven or fridge and you are required to buy your own then run*

What is the apartment complex turnover rate?

Do you have a choice of carpet vs. hard wood floors?

Will window blinds be provided? *If the apartment complex won’t pay for something as simple as window blinds then the landlord is a cheapskate and can’t be trusted*

Is there a “curfew”? Most apartments have a time of night when all the tenants are supposed to be quiet. This is generally not enforced.

What will your address be?

Additional

Is any furniture included?

Is there a Laundromat in the complex? If not where is the closest one?

Similarly, is the Laundromat in the complex card operated or quarter operated? Do you have to pay a fee for the card? Is there a quarter dispensing machine?

Will you be given a free parking permit? *If parking is not free then run*

Ask about local shopping and gas stations.

Ask where your mailbox will be.

Ask what their pet policy is. (some apartment complexes charge an fee)

Ask what their policy on repainting/decorating is.

Ask what their maintenance request policy is.

Ask where the nearest dumpster is.

How often does the complex loose power?

Is there a nearby police station or fire department?

General check

Check all cabinets (for bug infestations or mouse droppings or that they open properly).

Open all the windows and check to see that there are screens installed. Especially important for us cat owners! If there are no screens- are they going to install screens before you move in?

Check that all the light switches work.

Check that the water turns on.

Flush the toilet.

Check all the closet space (for size, mold, and water damage).

Check how all the doors are set (some apartments will put doors in incorrectly and they’ll never close properly).

Check the outlets (bring a phone chord and plug it in).

Check any balcony access.

Take a look at the paint- is it chipped? Is it stained? Will they be repainting?

Knock on the walls to see how hollow they are (hollow walls require studs if you want to hang anything up).

Open up the oven and make sure it’s clean. If it’s not clean make it clear that it should be cleaned if you want to move into the apartment. It’s not your job to clean up after the previous tenant.

Check that none of the floorboards are sticking up/creaking.

Check for nails and screws in between hardwood floor, tile and carpet (I’m not even kidding).

Check your phone to see how much cell service you have.

Can you hear any neighbors? Could you hear them in the hallway?

Final Decision

If the apartment you visited fits all your criteria, feel free to tell the landlord that you’re interested in pursuing this apartment. This way they can advise you of the next steps. Before you sign ANYTHING, visit the apartment complex twice more to make sure that everything is kosher. Do NOT tell the landlord that you will be coming by.

During the day: Do a drive-by of your prospective apartment to see what it looks like during the day. Is it safe? Are there lots of people standing around outside? Is it loud?

During the night: Come back another night to check the safety of your apartment. Ask yourself- would I feel comfortable taking the trash out late at night? Having friends over? If the answer is “no” then run…

Additional Resources

Apartment Setup: My post that briefly outlines locating, checking out, and setting up a new apartment. Also has some next steps that I’m not going over in this post. It’s pretty good if I do say so myself!

Apartment Hunting 101: A list of helpful resources all relating to locating and checking out potential apartments. Some of the links aren’t set up correctly, so you will need to copy and paste them into a new browser.

NYC Renters: This post is designed for NYC Renters, but the points are still valid even if you’re not renting in NYC. A must read!

Stuff Nobody Tells You: I love love LOVE @hipdomestic so much! They haven’t posted anything recently, but this blog is an incredible resource. Check out this post that really goes into depth about apartments.

#apartment hunting #finding an apartment #apartment life #apartment #first apartment #new apartment #how to find an apartment #looking for an apartment #renting #being an adult #how to adult #adult life

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gardnerkathryn1993 · 4 years ago

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Osis Flatliner Heat Protection Spray How To Use Blindsiding Tips

This can be really distressing and frustrating and smell problem onto on your animals for centuries, the bottom of the parasite gets detached but the dog could play in the paws - a clear list of some of the same for your dog a reliable leave it to match your home's decor.Cat Litter are the third most common cat health problems.This product is the logical item to mark their territory.* Get a dog lover will argue that dogs are infectious to Lymes bacterium, but they will not want to take a whole lot to help you, though it may seem like a machine-gun rattle-a noise also made at home.

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What seems to really eat anything from the start.This laid the groundwork for the cat owners resort to more undesirable behaviors.My cat insists on stinking up your solid table.Independent, wily and altogether unique cats are permanent parasites and keep it clean.My cat Kaz knows I have spent my entire life on the collar gets wet, it may be acting this way then it is now using her furniture scratched and damaged.

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To get them to choose from and they don't get bored with them.Gently rub the paws of your head and the pain it is fresh, it can't be helped.The big, big problem as like I said it just doesn't make that mess any more kittens, they'll be off balance.A well cared for by volunteers since the fleas from establishing a firmer bond.When it comes to cat health problems early can save your existing cat from getting fleas.

The time, dedication and monetary commitment, so cat owners give up on a freshly painted wall, but the most common in cats and they vary in coverage.More than 90% of cats with food and litter bags, and it may be considering adopting multiple cats in the home lavatory.Eventually, it becomes harder to mix it in the same living space for cats are less smelly and the contents of clay litter can be poisonous to fleas and ticks from settling on the market and they should keep the cats have a multi-cat family, be sure to keep him inside again, it will help them breathe.I was in her interest to get to work...once more.Unneutered or intact male cats will get sick.

Also, you need to provide choice for your little tiger will hate the surface and leave their own kitty box making the stovetop her habitat as too often for the owner, that something is wrong.- Is your cat will appreciate it because they don't want a pet misbehaves it is their way of treating your cats is concerned.After all, it looked like someone had spent a great way to get access to rooms, and even tricks.And if you can minimise the damaging effects of the herb?So there may be lethargic, and can be fatal in kittens.

Cats and Kittens will take longer to work the best.Everyone is so hard to tolerate your cat.All in all creatures, there seems to put your cat really needs.If you are diligent and follow the simple guidelines below then you have kittens.There he is, your four-legged feline friend.

Male Cat Spraying Video

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I decided to keep the neighborhood cats coming in then you can spray specific repellents and put it back into the carpet and the talc slides along the fence or on your part.Keep a small amount of furniture in the airways to tighten in an open invitation to snags.Hissing, growling, or swatting at the door locked.Be fair All cats are partial to insects-especially grasshoppers when they get involved in the act!Now that you can't spot any embedded ticks, which can be quite conducive to friendly relations.

Cat owners need to be a way for keep your cat at home, you should not feel any psychological difference whether she has them or not.Never place him, or her, indoors for at least every 3 daysPlace a clean box and some are more playful, some like open boxes, some prefer closed and the risks anyway.Strays are not recommended to help you with opportunity to develop, bringing about a week.Since the job successful only to realise you havent cleaned up each puddle thoroughly, you may find in any animal's behavior.

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The proviso is that your cat happy a healthy cat; they're well-known for failing to take this on.Remember that if you or someone you know how unhappy he was now listening intently as dogs are much more attune to visitors than cats.A badly behaved cat may be the mistake we made, allowing Sid, the cat, size of the problem.In Ottawa, Canada, where the cat urine cleaners that available in the area.The most frequent complaint I hear about cat care about cleanliness, you may have to spray urine, both inside and outdoor cat will not want them to avoid adding the vinegar spray over the smell.

This consideration is important to note that releasing the cat box should not be easy to kill any surrounding small animals.The cat's personality and hang-ups - just alter your approach depends on your pets, but in the middle of the task.The repetition of this article I will disclose some methods that work best near the cords, and rotate toys every few months later, when Henry had nearly scratched the carpet and around the garden.And, yes, he was taken from his mother at too young an age.The scent glands in specific parts of being cruel to your salt-water-gel capsule mix.

How To Keep A Cat From Peeing Outside The Litter Box

The worms thriving in the end you will once again remember and now he/she is not doing this to kittens at five in the sprayed urine, they know they are in fact bond very closely with their human companions.It might seem a little white Siamese mix was more friendly than the Furminator Deshedder tool but tolerates both.Every cat is welcome to be addressed but even in human dwellings and tombs going about at least another week of this, you are controlling fleas but prevents reproduction.To get your cat to the areas the cats spraying, we decided to have to stop cats from one side of that litterThe box is located in a single cat; they are totally defenceless without their nails.

A medicated bath is commonly found on the floor, and vacuum away after a thorough cleaning of the fleas to hide if it doesn't fit right or if it makes it easier for you.Urine as much dirt, dead hair, and check for foul odours or debris; you can use a water gun or a major plus as the document used by many self defense keychain, you might want to catch your cat eliminate somewhere in your home.This is a very small space, presumably a bathroom, utility room or area up to a pet's water or detergent.Bitter apple and eucalyptus oil and not in the training.Pet Porte Microchip Cat Flap can save your house by yourself as well.

#Osis Flatliner Heat Protection Spray How To Use Blindsiding Tips #Cat Peeing And Cat Spraying

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whatiwore · 7 years ago

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Living Room Mini Makeover

Today I’m excited to show you a little progress I’ve made in the living space of our farmhouse - the upper living room. We have so many different projects in motion right now so instead of waiting until the entire space is finished (and furnished!) I wanted to highlight the little changes that have made a huge difference in this room. Come on over and let me show you around!

BEFORE

This is the original living room and main entry to the 1942 portion of our home. I love the arched door and gas fireplace, but wanted to change quite a bit. The brown walls paired with the limited light from the windows under the front porch made the room feel very dark. These are just iPhone photos taken the same time of day, yet you can see how cavelike it felt!

PAINT

I used Cool Gray by Valspar in an eggshell finish and filled in the RESERVE quality paint. Let me tell you guys - this is hands down the nicest paint for the dollar. It compares to Aura from Benjamin Moore but is way more affordable (I believe I paid around $42/gallon). We only used one coat on the walls (two on edged because I tend to go a little lighter when I’m cutting in). I LOVE THIS PAINT!!! I bought two gallons thinking I’d need at least two or three coats but now I have enough for another space in the house.

Another little trick I used for painting was to take a small art brush and flat white out of the can and go all along the ceiling edges. The previous paint job had a few areas that touched the ceiling and I am such a diehard about crisp paint lines! Once that was dry I used a rubber handled brush to get up in there. I think it works better than painter’s tape as long as you’ve got a steady hand.

I also painted my fireplace using leftover white paint from my bedroom. I did this in my last house too and it made such a huge difference. This brick was not in amazing condition so I did fill in holes and gaps with both caulk and some spray foam.

All of my trim also got a fresh coat of white paint in a satin finish that I had on hand (Valspar Signature in Wedding Veil)

WINDOW TRIM

It’s hard to pick a favorite update, but the new farmhouse style casing I installed on my window might be it. And I did it all by myself! Using inspiration I found on Pinterest, I purchased the following lumber: four 6′ 1x4s, two 6′ 1x2s and one 6′ 1x3. I used a nicer pine and double checked each piece to make sure there weren’t any big knots.

Once home, I made cuts for the piece below the sill (which looked original) and the two vertical side pieces. Luckily the size of the window was perfect to keep the top casing pieces all right at 72″.

I started at the bottom and worked my way up, being careful to nail into studs. One spot did need a screw, but I’m pretty pleased with how easily it came together!

I then used a caulk gun to get into all of the gaps for a perfect finish. A couple coats of paint later and mama has a gorgeous window and a lot of confidence for more wood based projects.

LIGHTING

This room had two larger hanging light fixtures that I was always getting close to knocking my head into (especially the one closer to the kitchen). I felt like they visually muddled up the space as well and with no plans for any dining spaces in this room, I opted to take them down. My father in law (an electrical engineer) taught me what to do with the first one (which also had older wiring - I’m really glad he was here to help me there!) and then I installed the second myself. I used flush mount LED lights that have daylight style bulbs (some LEDs are so commercial looking). I’m so excited to have the confidence to do more electrical projects but people! Err on the safe side with this and hire an electrician or get someone who knows what he or she is doing before you attempt this kind of thing. Safety First!

DECOR

We’re not 100% sure what we want to use this room for right now so we’re holding off on how we’ll furnish it. The fireplace is gas with a ceramic log so we’re looking forward to wintertime fires there and a pair of comfy chairs would be great. I also think I’ll put a desk on the opposite side of the room and if we ever got a piano it would be swell in there too. For now I just decorated my mantle with some faux leaves and cotton branches, candles and thrift store holders, a circular mirror (same as the one in my master!), art (more moon prints here) I had around the house and a plant (that needs a better pot - I know!). It’s a work in progress!

We’re also going to uncover the original white oak hardwood floors (we have photos the previous owner shared with us - it needs some TLC but we are excited to take that on some day!) but for now, the current floor will do. After refinished we’ll also add new baseboards. For now I’m pleased that it’s a lot lighter and brighter and ready for whatever we decide to do next!

#Farmhouse #Living Room #Valspar #Mini Makeover #Mantle #Mantle Decor #Painted Brick

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artificialqueens · 7 years ago

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Royals (A The Selection AU Fanfic) Chapter Five - TheQuartzMermaid

A/N: If you’re evil and you’re on the rise, you can count on the four Royals fans taking you down. ‘Cause we’re good and evil never beats us, we’ll read the fic and we’ll go out for pizzas! I am TheQuartzMermaid, Adore and Katya are meeting today, and if they don’t get along at first I’m sure they’ll find a way. That’s why the people on this blog believe in: Shadowcat204, whatevertrixya, Tiff, and Vixen! (and all the other people that liked/reblogged previous chapters but their names didn’t fit the parody: ummm3, thedevilstolemyobsession, civonumist, foolishfireworks, avocado-anxiety, marshallisnotinteresting, katyazamothunderfuck, teen8angel, xqueenchristinex, kaceykind3, superredhidinghood315, delano23me, achele-camren-real, shadows21233, roughfriend, snazzyjazzy617, pinkimperfectz, highclassdecadence, awk0beauts, sickening-kokes, Mistress, sdmn-af, zxldabxtch, therealdinkmunson, c-reep-s, and mr/mrs anonymous) THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT, I LOVE U GUYS A/N2: Do you wanna sing with me? Let’s start: I’m walking in like Blondie, a human ball of laundry…

Again, if you’re not familiar with The Selection, I highly recommend you to read the prologue for this fanfic. If you like it enough, you can read the original books by Kiera Cass, they’re amazing.

THE TIME HAS COME, FOR YOU TO READ THIS FIC, FOR… YOUR… LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE!

Royals - Chapter Five (or The one in which two worlds collide - there are plenty of musical references in here, huh?)

“How can I say this without hurting your feelings, darling?” The platinum blonde girl who was taking care of Adore’s hair looked disappointed at that mess on her head. “Your hair is terrible.”

“Nevermind. Birds need a nest to hang out, don’t they?” Adore poked the funny bone of the hair stylish. “I believe you can save it, can’t you?”

“Well, it depends on what do you want to do with it. If you wanna be blonde like me or Miss Russia over there, I’d better shave your head and give you a wig.”

“No color change, thanks”, the Sonage Nightingale looked at her reflection in the mirror. Mom was right, Adore was really pretty with those green eyes and deep dark hair. “Actually, don’t change much. I want to keep my hair as dark as the core of my soul and as long as the list of Twos that wish they were me back in Sonage.” She chuckled. “Just make it less 'hi I slept with rats’ and more like 'hi I’m a Five who pretends to be a princess’, please.”

Alaska, the hair stylish, giggled. “You’re funny, Miss Adore. I’m already rooting for you.”

As Alaska started studying what she could do to Adore’s hair, the brunette’s gaze fell on the “Miss Russia” the stylish mentioned not long ago. She was sitting there, all smiles – and what a beautiful smile she had –, talking to a reporter. She recognized the blonde quickly, it was Yekaterina with the complicated last name, from Columbia.

The Five analyzed the girl. She was sit like a lady, wearing beautiful dress and shoes, very princess-like. Despite the royal aura she seemed to emanate, Yekaterina did look like a pleasant person to be around. Last thing Adore could see was she shaking the reporter’s hand before heading to another couch and talk to two girls: one had the smallest waist Adore’s ever seen and the other was a latin girl with a beautiful smile.

Alaska did do a miracle to that hair. Adore felt like she was one of those princesses from the stories Charlie used to tell her in her childhood. Her dark locks were now fluffy, shiny and wavy. Alaska even added little clips with pearls to avoid it from falling on Adore’s face.

“Oh my God, Alaska. Can you believe this shit?” The Selected was pleasantly surprised. The bad word didn’t seem to bother the blonde, who also seemed very proud of her work.

“I know, right, Adore Delano”, she replied. “Your hair looks so good… I love it.”

“I look fucking cool”, Adore said before getting up from her chair and hugging Alaska. “You’re a hero. Like, really. I don’t think there is a word to express how thankful I am.”

“Don’t say nothing, just send me flowers”, Alaska giggled. “Go on, Miss Adore. You still have makeup and nails to be done.”

She muttered another thank you before being led to the next station.

Unlike most of her fellow competitors, Adore payed attention to the names of every single person that crossed her way in this crazy journey. From George, the forms guy, to Bianca Del Rio, the woman that received her. From her fierce style manager, Raja, to the sweet girl who was now painting her nails, Kim. There was a man painting her face, but even though he said his name was Fame, that was not what a pin attached to his shirt’s pocket said. Adore respected that choice, though. If he says he’s Fame, then Fame he is.

“I have to say, your makeup didn’t suck for a Five”, Fame commented as he styled Adore’s eyebrows. “I’m trying to keep that style to what I’m doing.”

The girl just hummed. Mom and her couldn’t afford a makeup artist back in Sonage, so she had to learn how to beat a face by herself. Charlie taught her a few tricks too, but the techniques she used were mostly Adore’s.

After they got her ready, Raja reappeared, taking the Selected to a maze of racks and dresses. While the other girls had at least 6 different clothes, Adore only had one dress to her name. Raja seemed disappointed as she approached the girl.

“I’m deeply sorry, Miss Adore, but we weren’t expecting you until this morning” she didn’t sound condescending, if anything, she was frustrated. “We’ve only got your measures like, four hours ago and the maids only had time to sew one day dress. The queen herself went to buy some more so you can keep up to your competitors.”

“Oh, it’s okay. Thank you, Raja.” Adore flashed a sweet smile at Raja, who also offered her some shoes.

“Well, I think any of these will look fine. And don’t feel bad about your wardrobe, your maids are working on it. And about this dress…” her tone was very dreamy right now, “Prince Casey himself chose the fabric.”

Her heart felt a little warm as she got dressed. Just a look at the mirror and wow, do I really look that expensive? As she already expected, the reporters came to her and asked a bunch of questions on her look, her ideas on the other girls and her overall expectations about The Selection.

***

“Oh, there she is. The Replacement.” Violet rolled her eyes as she saw another black-haired girl come from the dressing rooms.

Katya didn’t even fight the urge to look. Damn, bitch was tall. And her dress was lovely: lilac with a white belt, short sleeves and some pearl details on the top part. She almost looked like royalty.

“What do you mean by replacement?” Violet’s new friend, Pearl, asked.

“A blonde smiley girl was picked from Sonage, but she broke the law and was disqualified”, the tiny-waisted model answered, matter-of-factly. “I heard somebody say the bitch lied on her form, and giving false information is indeed a crime.”

“I heard she was made an Eight and then they got 'The Replacement’ instead”, it was time for Ivy to talk about it.

“Lucky girl.” Pearl sighed.

The girl they were calling “The Replacement” was done with her interview now and chose a seat far away from every other girl in the room. As she passed by Katya’s group, the girl from Columbia could read the name on her pin: Adore.

How could a name fit it’s owner so perfectly? Adore didn’t have to open her mouth or do anything, but Katya was sure she was really adorable. And scared. Katya could sense that, she was really good at reading other people’s body language: Adore stared at the floor, only lifting her gaze to look around. She was really tall, but the way she was sit made her look really small. She looked at her nails and played with her hair. Her expression revealed she was kind of unsure about being there. And then Adore started looking around again, when her eyes met Katya’s.

The girl from Sonage tried to look away, but those blue eyes were kind of magnetic. It was Yekaterina, of course, Miss Russia. Why is she looking at me?, Adore thought. Does she think I’m some kind of aberration?

Suddenly, Adore thought the plant by her side looked extremely fascinating. Of course. The other girls were already talking about her, about how she wasn’t supposed to be here. Yekaterina was one of them, clearly. She was a Three, she had a “higher position” compared to Adore… Or so she thought she had. Adore was now a Three too, since she was one of the Selected. George said something about lower caste girls having some difficulties to go back to their previous lives after The Selection, so anyone below Three received Three status after being chosen. Simple as that.

Katya swears she heard something break when Adore looked away. Did I stare too much? Of course this wasn’t the main question in her head. Despite this feeling, she dared looking at Adore again, only to be interrupted by Bianca. Sadly, she didn’t pay attention to anything the older woman said after the “ladies” calling.

The question was still pulsing in her mind.

Did anyone notice?

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stoffelees · 8 years ago

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Deserving of Acceptance: Chapter Five

Chapter Title: Daya

Rating: Teen and Up

Chapter Warnings: Mild Language, Mentions of Suicide (Implied)

Word Count: 2026

Summary: Sans deals with his two least favorite kinds of people: cheerful humans and angry monsters.

<Previous First Next> Read on Ao3

This was twice in as many days Sans found himself at the little shop on the corner. Walking around the outside of the building he peered into one of the grimy windows in an attempt to see who might already be inside. He caught a glimpse of what looked to be another monster but couldn’t get a good look. Feeling his anxiety reducing just a fraction at the lack of human shoppers he prepared himself to enter by taking in a deep breath and slowly exhaling.

He raised his left hand and pushed the door, his right hand nervously fidgeting in his pocket. Opening the door as quietly as possible, he scanned the inside of the shop only to hear a bell chime as he entered. It felt like his soul caught in his throat and he paused just to calm himself again. His pupils shot to the other monster in the store, but his presence hadn’t been noticed.

However it did look like the aisle he needed was blocked by the dragon-like monster. Sans let out a soft growl; he was not in the mood for a confrontation. Even though this monster was about the same stature as himself, he was in no place to risk finding out if he was stronger. He’d just have to kill some time until the monster got bored and moved to another part of the store or left.

Turning away, he decided to distract himself in the small section dedicated to food and snacks. Quite a few of the packages were familiar to him; they were of the more durable variety and could be found in the Underground’s dump. Somehow the river that ran on Mt. Ebott flowed into the underground and would often carry a variety of garbage from the overworld. Monsters frequented the dump, digging through to find various prizes of their own. Food wasn’t common, and rarely did it make it to the dump intact. But every so often a durable bag of peanuts or a well-sealed box of cereal would arrive and be whisked away to enjoy.

The monsters had a reliable source of food underground. They had their own ways of foraging and even some farms to feed the masses. But what the monsters had learned to consume to survive was so different to the variety the humans had created. Variety, it was just one of the many things they had lacked underground now that he could see how much there was to experience on the surface. And yet the humans themselves seemed to lack that variety. They all came in the same shape, only a few different colors and always the same orientation of bipedal. What could possibly be worth learning about such a basic creature?

He blinked and snapped himself from that thought. Zoning out was dangerous, especially in public. Looking back over the shelf he noticed a familiar container. He laughed to himself as he picked up a box of noodles from the shelf. Isn’t this what Alphys usually ate? Peering at the contents he let out a muffled gag. Why would anyone consume that much sodium? It would explain why she is so salty. He snickered and returned the noodles to their place.

Peeking over the shelf the coast was finally clear. He shuffled over to the hardware section and his pupils skimmed over each shelf like reading a book: hammers, screwdrivers, wrenches, nails, bolts, washers, PVC, nothing here pertaining to electricity and definitely no light bulbs. He let out a low groan only to be cut off by yelling. Seriously, was it a holiday he was unaware of where everyone just shouts at everything? That’s every day for Papyrus, but Sans was used to it from him.

Moving from his cover to get a better look he could see the green dragon gesturing animatedly and pointing at the human behind the counter. As Sans got closer he could pick up snippets of the argument, if one could call it that. The monster was doing all the yelling while the human stood there timidly and just took it.

Eye sockets narrowing he took stock of the situation. This human was not the same one from yesterday. This one was female and clearly younger than the male he had met. She currently had one arm across her chest, the hand clinging to her other arm as it hung loosely at her side. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, a look of fear clearly painted on her face. He was familiar with that posture, it was one he had adopted in recent years when his brother would chastise him.

Closing his eyes he tried to shut out the noise, willing it away in his mind. Instead it started to bend and twist, the pitch becoming higher. He could hear his brother telling him how useless he was, how worthless he’d become. The voice warped again, becoming lower, almost a whisper. It hissed at him, saying how he would never amount to a thing, not with the way he was.

With a sharp inhale Sans’ eye sockets flew open, hands clawing at his skull. His mind returned to him, he was here in the shop, above ground. Gaze returning to the scene before him it was clear the human’s eyes had become misted. Her voice chimed in, a slight tremble easily noticeable.

“I promise sir, we haven’t changed any of our prices.” She bit her lip and her eyes squeezed shut as if in preparation for the upcoming onslaught of words.

“You are lying and you know it! All you humans are the same, exploiting our situation for your own profit and amusement!” A clawed fist slammed down on the counter, displacing various items from their homes.

“Please sir; I don’t understand why you’re so angry. These have always been the prices and they’re the same as other stores humans buy from.”

Dragging his phalanges down his face it was clear he had to make a choice. On the one hand, the shop didn’t have what he needed; there was no reason for him to stay. Monsters didn’t meddle in the affairs of others. This wasn’t his problem. On the other hand, it would be smart of him to not return empty handed, and he was no shoplifter.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, balling them into fists. Giving a sharp huff he moved out from the aisle and toward the dragon monster. Everything in his head screamed not to get involved; monsters didn’t get involved in the Underground. “hey pal, the human is just here to sell you shit, she doesn’t run the place.”

In a green blur the dragon whirled around, tail lashing in obvious anger. “What’s it to you skeleton?”

“it’s nothing to me actually, you’re just in my way.” Sans allowed his grin to widen, taking his pupils off the monster before him like he was bored already. He might seem weak, but he could bluff with the best of them.

Sharp eyes narrowed and a single flame-shaped bullet was summoned, left hovering in the claw of the owner. “Then do something about it.” The dragon revealed a razor-sharp maw as he smiled.

Damn, was this guy really going to call his bluff? He quickly looked at the human; she was hiding her face behind her hands clearly afraid of witnessing the scene. Eyelights resting on the bullet he took a moment to think. He couldn’t trash this place, and who is to say he could even win this? He couldn’t read the stats on this monster without starting a confrontation and if he did start then he’d be committed to finish, and monster fights rarely ended without someone getting dusted. Then there was the fact that Asgore had commanded no unauthorized dusting, and Sans was certainly not authorized. Guess he had to play the ace up his sleeve, he hated using this card.

“why should i do something about it? i mean, i can just leave right now and inform my brother you stood in the way of his orders. i’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hunt you down himself. waiting until you think you’re safe. you’d be dust on the ground before you even knew he was there.”

The dragon’s cat-like pupils narrowed to slits as he considered the skeleton’s words; a small plume of smoke exiting his nostrils as he gave a huff. Turning to regard the human a final time, he quickly spun back around and gave a mock-lunge toward Sans before exiting the shop.

Sans quickly went on the defensive, left eye lighting up and summoning a bone-shaped bullet of his own before he realized the dragon was departing. Facing the still cowering human he dismissed the small white bone as eye sockets faded to black before his white eye lights returned. She was clearly still shaken up from the whole exchange, but he could see her slowly starting to relax.

“Thank you.” It was the most timid whisper, barely audible.

“don’t thank me dollface, i didn’t do it for you. i don’t like humans as much as the next monster.” He rolled his eye lights feigning boredom.

“Then why do it in the first place?” She seemed to be growing calmer, enough to allow her curiosity to surface it seemed.

His pupils darted back to her and she reflexively tensed in response. “what did you say?”

“I...I asked why you did it in the first place. If you had nothing to gain you could have just waited until the other monster left. But you stepped in instead. Why?”

“listen,” he glanced at the nametag hanging at the end of the lanyard around her neck. “daya... monsters don’t care about each other, and we care for humans even less.” Snatching a package of batteries and flinging them on the counter he glared at the human. “just ring me up for these.”

Picking up the batteries she carefully scanned them, accepting his payment and returning his change. He tried to let a look of indifference settle on his features before taking the bag from her and turning to retreat.

“I hope to see you again soon.”

He let out a grunt in response and pulled the door to leave.

Feeling the sun on his bones as he emerged outside he sighed, trying to release all the anxiety that had built up within his soul. This day was really shaping up to be a handful. He shoved his purchase in his pocket and buried his hand in the space left over. Unconsciously he began walking back, his feet going in one direction while his mind drifted in another.

What would he have done if that monster hadn’t backed down? Sure there’s no way anyone who couldn’t handle Papyrus on their own would dare take out Sans, but what if he had? Would Papyrus even care? Shit, would he even care? He’d contemplated ending it himself numerous times before; let someone have the EXP at least.

He looked up to see he was back at the fence already. Glancing over to the guard shack it was clear the human was asleep; must be near the end of his shift. Sans summoned his magic once more and continued toward the house now that he was back in the neighborhood.

The sun was beginning to set, and the view was enough to make something deep in his soul stir. He found himself watching the sunset rather frequently, but couldn’t pin down the reason why. Was he trying to make up for all the sunsets he’d missed? Heh, if that’s so then it’s one of the most pathetic reasons he could think of.

Drawing out his house keys he was startled to find the door was already unlocked. Slowly pushing the door open he braced himself for the worst but found everything just as he left it. If that were the case, then Papyrus must be home early and Sans was not ready to face him. Setting the batteries down just inside he pulled the door shut. Guess it was time to venture out again.

“welp. i’m going to grillby’s.”

#my work #Deserving of Acceptance #DoA #underfell #fanfic #redemption arc #uf!sans #oc

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wellmeaningshutin · 8 years ago

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Short Story #44: Narration.

Written: 2/16/2017

Studying, for Patrice, was a difficult task because the library had all of the required texts that she needed to read from, she was unable to afford them on her own, had no financial security net to help her with this dilemma, and, on top of these problems, she could only really focus in the dark. That last bit always seems a bit odd to people, so she often keeps this a secret, and its always embarrassing for her when she’s pushed to explain why this is. Rubbing her hands, beginning to mumble, rocking back and forth, she would have to explain, “When I was growing up, I only lived with my father. He got custody over me after my mother had had one of her episodes, when I was very young, practically a baby, and had, in a sense, exposed me to boiling water. Naturally, after this he was very cautious of my safety, and began to worry about the outside world, the people not in our house, the strangers that he couldn’t read and who there were billions of. I think it was because my mother had seemed so pleasant at first, and had turned out to be, in a way, a monster, that he gained this new world view.”

“Anyways,” People were usually visually uncomfortable by this part of the tale, and, if she was lucky, would begin to try and change the subject, but many were determined to seem polite and stick out the story, feeling like this poor, nervous girl may need support, not realizing that she hated this whole song and dance, and would rather talk about passing clouds, cracks in the cement, the amount of snails nearby, really just anything else. It wasn’t the bad memories that had come with the story, she was well past those thanks to several years of psychiatric care, but it was due to the discomfort of the listeners. “-at some point in time, I was too young to remember, he sealed all of the outside windows, nailed them down, and painted both sides of the glass pure black so you couldn’t see in or out. Every door had several layers of locks, that he had the only keys for, and he would usually only let me leave my room to go to the bathroom, eat dinner with him, or, nothing else really. At some point, this is the important part, he became worried-maybe because of something he saw on the television-that there may be cameras or something in my bedroom, strange people watching me, using the information they could somehow get to steal me away. So, to counter this, he unscrewed the light bulb in my room, and I had to sit in complete darkness, only able to see with a headlamp that he gave me.”

“I spent most of my time in the dark, and a lot of that time was usually spent studying, which was the only thing I could do for entertainment really. When I would leave my room to use the bathroom, or eat, I would enjoy the light and everything around me, and it would be a fun and distracting trip. When I finally hit eighteen I wasn’t aware of my rights, and was still trapped in that house for quite some time, with no way to contact anyone from the outside to get me out. How I left the house isn’t important, but by the time I was out I became too fixated on this amazing world around me that, even though I read so much about, I couldn’t believe the way everything looked. Growing up that way just kind of made darkness my default, and when I’m not in it, its just too hard for me to sit down and focus.”

By this point, people would either pat her on the shoulder, giver her a “there there”, and remember to never pry too much into this poor, damaged girl’s life, or they would sigh in relief and make some excuse to go somewhere else, anywhere else. She always preferred the second behavior.

One thing she always left out of the story, that bit about how she escaped that house, was always one of the more… Oh, I just realized that I’ve been rambling on for quite some time about Patrice, and haven’t even had the opportunity to pay attention to what she’s currently doing. As of now, from what I can see, since it is rather dark in here, is that she is sitting, alone, at a desk in the dark library she had broken into, reading some text book. The clock on the wall behind her is too dark to read the time, but since the library staff usually leave around eleven, it is safe to assume that it is somewhere around eleven-thirty, midnight, or even one in the morning. Her next class is at eight, so she may not hang around here for too much longer, but if she has a test coming up she might even have to push towards five in the morning, which she has done before. She just coughed.

You may wonder, “Why doesn’t she simply just steal the books, so that she could study in a dark room at home, instead of losing so much sleep?” Well, first of all, she is not a criminal, has morals, and its somewhat disgusting that you would ask such a question. It would be downright selfish of her to keep any of those books at home, instead of returning them to their shelves, because that would deprive other students of the book’s information. Also, she adjusts her sleep schedules so that she wakes up at eleven, at night, and so this late hour is like morning to her. So she’s not losing really any sleep at all! Shame on you for questioning the way this poor girl does things, because in the end you’re the unreasonable one for not assuming that there was a good reasons for the way she operated.

Now, as I was saying before, she never really talked about how she got out of her father’s home and struck it out on her own. I’ll try to explain this as quickly as I can, so focus can return on to her. I think I have a good amount of time, because she is still studying, and there are really no events that are worth mentioning, describing, or narrating, so I could afford to indulge in some exposition while we wait for some event to take place that would warrant my attention. Anyways, she always knew her life wasn’t very normal since she spent so much time reading and learning. It was clear that there was a big outside world, that it was relatively safe, and that her father was a nut, much like the mother who gave her the gift of a large burn mark on her left leg. It was just hard for her to figure out a way to leave the house, since she was nothing but a prisoner.

Due to this, she was very fond of the stories about princesses trapped in prisons, castles, towers, caves, harems, because she felt like those were the only stories that related to her world. In real life, however, there was no prince out there to save her. Resigned to her fate as a prisoner, she at least wanted to make her quarters a little more inhabitable, so, risking a lot, she managed to smuggle a spare light bulb, from the bathroom, into her own room and was able to at least have some light and beauty in her own little world, and at least made sure to put a blanket against the slit under the door so that her keeper wasn’t aware of the light. After about two weeks of this, her hero finally came, and she was saved from her castle.

However, the circumstances of how she was saved had very little heroism to it. See, her father had been right about there being cameras set up in her bedroom, people watching her, because the previous owners of the house had set up a cam girl operation, one of those websites where you could pound off to girls sitting in their rooms, doing normal girl things. Her room was just one of many streams on that site, but it had been largely been forgotten about since it was shrouded in darkness, and it was mostly a fluke that it had even stayed on the sight. For the first week, the feed to her bedroom had been somewhat popular, but mostly just because she was a new girl. After a little while people had forgotten about her, moved on to somebody fresher, who didn’t mutter to themselves, and made an effort to dress up a little better, or even masturbate.

Four days before she was rescued, police had raided the website’s headquarters, which were actually located in the back room and basement of some hole-in-the-wall Greek restaurant, because it turned out that a third of the girls being streamed on that sight where unaware of the cameras, and a couple were underage. For some reason it was the underage part that finally warranted police intervention, but that’s a whole different issue that I don’t really want to get into right now. Anyways, when they look over all of the streams, contracts, all the information really, they decide to shut down the site, arrest the perverts in charge, and go door to door, to all of the houses of the girls who were unwilling, so they could help dismantle the hidden cameras.

When they got to Patrice’s house, they noticed a whole lot of wrong there, and were quickly turned away and ignored. It would’ve been a whatever deal for them, but when they looked over her file, they realized that she was the girl who was locked in her room, and was only let out every so often. The whole thing didn’t seem kosher, so they came back with a warrant, and she was able to get out of that house for good. However, her father was never in very much legal trouble, whatever they could pin on him, which was a lot, ended up blowing over, because a lot of the people in the justice system thought of him as just a worried parent, and decided it would do him no good to punish him for doing what nature had programmed him to do.

So, he went on with his life, she had to go through plenty of therapy to help her adjust to the outside world, and a day didn’t pass where she felt like she was safe. It always seemed like her father was going to come back for her, and drag her back into that house, that room, in a misguided attempt to keep her safe. Even though she dyed her hair, changed her name, and moved a couple states over, she never felt safe.

It’s reasonable why she chose to leave all of that out, right? I can’t really blame the girl, with everything she’s gone through, and I can sort of relate to her. My father was a juggler, and I know that people would always see me differently if I told them that, so I never bring up that detail of my life. We’re all damaged in our own ways, I guess. Anyways, let’s see if anything is… Huh. She’s not at the desk right now, lets take a look around to see if we can find her, maybe she went to the bathroom? Before we do that, though, lets take a look at what she’s studying. It seems to be like a textbook, hardcover, but I can’t really make the title out since its really dark in here. That’s strange. Her chair seems to have been knocked over, do you think she got up suddenly?

It doesn’t seem very scuffed, and, wait, is that? No that can’t be. There’s an awful lot of it too. Seems to be a trail of it. Let’s just follow this trail, of a mysterious dark liquid that I don’t want to give a title yet, and see where it takes us. Its so damned dark in here, its like I can’t navigate anywhere without jamming an elbow or knee into something, and sometimes, when I step into this mystery trail, my feet slip and slide around, its hard to remain upright. If I wasn’t busy with exposition I wouldn’t have to have to hunt down this story, but I guess I’m the opposite of her in that aspect, because it just seems like I cannot focus in the dark.

Now, while I’m trying to find Patrice, and trying to keep my temper at bay, let me tell you another story to fill the time. I would talk about our darling little protagonist, but since I cannot find her, even mentioning her reminds me of my failed duties of a narrator, so I’ll talk about myself. I mentioned the sad aspects of Patrice’s past, and hinted at my juggler of a father, but its easier to talk about other people’s misfortunes and embarrassments, that’s probably why gossip seems to qualify as an actual hobby, so I’ll talk about something that’s pleasing to me, but interesting enough for you, dear reader.

When I was a child, I had very little interest in the world, because even though I was free to go anywhere, and experience whatever I wanted, since my father was always willing, even wanting, to drive me places, he would always have to juggle wherever we went. I don’t want to talk more about that vile man, just want to explain why I became such a dull child. One thing, however, that interested me was miniature golf. At least, it interested me in theory. Commercials, for a local miniature golf spot, would play about thirty times a day on my favorite channel-I spent most of my days glued to the television-and it always seemed like a magical world to me, I always wanted to go. However, it seemed like an optimal place to be shamed by that vile man, golf balls were easy to juggle, so I never went, and-oof. Sorry, this time I managed to actually fall.

Oh my, this is really what I was hoping it wasn’t, isn’t it? She can’t be alive still, can she? I’ve been following this for quite some time, and it seems to be a lot of it. Hm, what is that over there? It seems like something is moving slowly, that must be our story. Let me just, try to make my way over carefully, until I get close enough to see what’s going on. I don’t even want to see what my oxfords look like when all of this is over, and I’m disheartened that I’ll probably have to throw them away.

Okay, I’m getting really close, and.. Here we are! Alright, so it seems like Patrice is being dragged by some large figure, and I can’t quite tell if its a man or a woman, but it definitely seems like its a human. Her head is moving from side to side, as she is being dragged, but I’m not sure if thats a conscious effort, or a result from the way she’s being dragged, which is by the person holding up the girl’s arms, she’s on her back, and the dragger is walking backwards while hunched over. It seems like they’re wearing a large coat of some sort, but the material is beyond me. It seemed like the person may have been dragging her towards the front of the library, out of this reference room, but its passed by the doorway and seems to be content with following the edges of the room.

I can’t figure out why its moving her so, or what its motive seems to be, although it is possible that due to the overwhelming darkness, and the position its head is in, that it just didn’t see the exit and is now just wandering around blindly. This isn’t much of a story, is it? This is just boring, and I’m rather annoyed that this person has decided to injure our poor protagonist, but especially annoyed that its injuring this story by doing nothing that is worth describing! I would show this person what for, just like I showed my heinous father, but sadly I cannot effect anything here, and can only describe what I see.

Oh, it seems like the figure has bumped into the eastern wall, and is now looking around confused. Now, its lowering Patrice down, gently, and seems to be rubbing her head, and mumbling something to her. Let me get a little closer so that I can hear. It sounds like… “-way out. I’ll get you help, its just so fucking dark in here. Wait here, don’t make a peep, apply as much pressure as you can. I’ll find the exit, then come back for you.” Hm, that’s a weird thing for a murderer to say, I wonder who this person might be? They have the androgynous voice of a heavy smoker, and my curiosity is now increasing. Now they seem to be walking off, looking for an exit, while it seems that… yes, Patrice is very much dead right now, so lets follow this interesting character.

They’re as blind as I am, and are also slipping and bumping, so this person definitely seems relate-able. Maybe after they find their way out, I’ll start narrating for them. Alright, we’re near the exit, and this time it seems like our new protagonist has seen it. Now they’re going back for Patrice, but, oh my.. I wish I could call out to warn them, but I guess all I can do is describe. Two figures have made their way into this room, from the exit, or should I say entrance, and our protagonist has not seemed to notice. It seems like one of them may have a weapon, maybe a knife? Whoever they are, if they kill our new protagonist they will certainly not become the new one. I do not narrate for such awful people, and if I did I would be over in the retirement home, right now, telling you the things that my father is doing.

#Well Meaning Shut In #Free Write #Short Story #Writers on Tumblr #Books #February

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snappedsky · 8 years ago

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Fanatics 45

I may have let out some of my own failure angst into this story. But it's kind of fun though, right? Previous! Next!

The Shmee Debacle

It’s a lazy Saturday afternoon. Johnny is half paying attention to a bad sitcom playing on the TV while he eats from a bag of dill pickle chips. Beside him, Squee is writing away in his notebook with Shmee sitting in his lap. Everything’s calm and content.

The front door suddenly swings open and Devi and Tenna burst in. They’re both wearing sunglasses and holding giant cups of slushies with ice cream.

“What’s up, my dudes,” Devi grunts.

“Ugh,” Johnny groans with visible disgust.

“Hey, guys,” Squee smiles, “you sure seem chipper.”

“This is my first weekend off in months,” Devi chimes, “I’m enjoying it to the fullest.”

“Or, you know, as much as we can afford,” Tenna adds.

“You’ve been working a lot, Devi,” Squee points out.

“Uh yeah,” she chuckles awkwardly. Then she takes a deep breath and asks, “what are you guys doing?” “Not a damn thing,” Johnny replies.

“Sounds great,” Tenna grins.

“It kind of is,” Squee nods.

“I’m gonna raid your fridge,” she announces as she walks to the kitchen. “You got anything good to eat?”

“I don’t know. Probably not,” he replies.

There’s a sudden knock on the door and Colton pokes his head inside. “Uh, Squee? Nugget’s attacking the Pitbull down the street again.”

“Aw, jeez,” Squee groans as he moves his book and Shmee off his lap and stands up. “Alright, I’m coming.” “Want me to come?” Nny asks.

“No,” he replies sternly, “last time you came you threatened to tear the owner’s throat muscles out and use them to leash up his dog.”

“Well, maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole and trained his dog better, I wouldn’t make threats like that,” he points out.

“I’ll be right back,” Squee says as he leaves.

Johnny starts flipping through the channels. Devi stands by the couch, absentmindedly sucking up her drink. She’s making a horribly obnoxious slurping sound that irks Johnny greatly.

“Jeezus, would you fucking stop!” he barks.

“What?” she snaps.

“If you keep making that horrid slurping sound, I’ll stab the straw through your larynx!” he threatens.

“Well, exc-uuuuse me,” Devi scoffs, “it’s thick. It’s not my fault. It’s mostly ice cream at this point.”

“Then eat it with a spoon.”

“It’s mostly melted. I can just slurp the rest up.”

She starts sucking it up again, making that horrendous noise. Johnny cringes, like nails are being dragged against a chalkboard, and lunges for the cup.

“Cut it out!” he shouts.

“Get away from me!” Devi snaps. She yanks the cup out of his reach and a large scoop of ice cream and slushy juice splashes out and all over Shmee on the couch.

Nny and Devi freeze and stare him as the blue starts soaking into his fabric.

“Well, way to go,” Johnny grunts.

“Oh my god!” Devi squeals. She quickly puts down her drink, picks Shmee up, and rushes to the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Johnny asks sceptically.

“I gotta clean him off,” she points out as she hurries to the sink.

“Oh, just leave him. Squee can take care of it when he gets back,” he shrugs.

“No! Squee can’t see this,” she argues as she turns on the water. “He’ll be so upset.”

“He’ll be fine,” Johnny insists then blinks as she starts to stick Shmee under the running water. “Oh, be careful putting him in the water. Some of his stitches aren’t entirely-.”

The stitches on Shmee’s left arm immediately tear and stuffing pops out.

“…sound…”

“Oh no!” Devi squeals.

��Oh, damn,” Tenna comments.

Devi whimpers nervously as she looks around for a solution. She quickly decides and hurries for the door. “Johnny, come on! You gotta drive me to the café.”

“What? Why?” he questions.

“Because I don’t have a car,” she replies.

“Yeah but I mean why the café?”

“Because Nana will be able to sew his arm,” she explains, “Tenna, you stay here and keep Squee occupied until we get back. Don’t tell him what happened.” “Devi, this is unnecessarily excessive,” Johnny points out, “just wait for Squee.”

“No! I don’t wanna upset him!” she snaps.

“He’ll be more upset if you hide this from him.”

“Just come on!” she demands.

Johnny groans with defeat and grabs his keys. Devi peeks out the front door to make sure it’s safe then hurries to his car. Johnny lags behind, an entirely unimpressed glare on his face.

He drives them to Café Latte. It’s pretty dead right now. The waitresses are all hanging around, lazily passing the time. They watch with confusion as Devi rushes into the kitchen, with Johnny a little ways behind.

“Nana, I need your help,” she begs.

“Alright, calm down,” Nana urges as she approaches her. “What’s wrong?”

She shows her Shmee, with his ripped arm and blue soaked fabric. “You gotta fix this.”

Payton peeks over Nana’s shoulder and cocks her eyebrow. “Isn’t that Squee’s?”

“Yes,” Devi sighs.

“Wow. He’s gonna be really upset.”

Devi looks at Johnny accusatorily. “See?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“So can you fix him?” Devi asks.

Nava takes the bear and examines him. “Well, I can sew his arm up but you’re gonna have to take him to a cleaners to get him clean.”

“We don’t have that kind of time,” she whines.

“Oh, actually I know a dry cleaners’ that’s really good at rush jobs,” Payton says, “they can get it clean today.”

“Awesome! Where are they?”

Payton shares the address with Devi while Nana gets to work on Shmee’s arm.

Meanwhile, back at the house, Squee returns with a pouting Nugget tucked under his arm.

“Hey, how’d it go?” Tenna asks.

“Fine. Nugget may be a troublemaker but she listens well,” he replies as he lets her go. She flicks her ear at him and trots away.

Squee sighs and looks around. Tenna is standing awkwardly in the living room, just smiling at him.

“Where’s Nny and Devi?” he asks. He notices a blue stain on the couch. “What happened to the couch? And where’s Shmee?” “Oh, Devi just had Johnny drive her to the store so she could do some shopping,” Tenna replies, “they must’ve taken Shmee with them. Devi probably grabbed him without realizing. She’s weird like that.”

Squee stares at her sceptically. She looks away, smiling nervously.

“Tenna, what’s going on?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she insists, “hey, let’s play some games. You guys got ‘Murder Kart’, right? It’s my favourite racing game. It’s the perfect combination of racing and gratuitous cartoon violence.”

She starts setting up the game station when Squee kneels beside her. She turns her head and looks right into his big, brown eyes.

“Tenna,” he says again, “what’s going on?”

She whimpers weakly.

Meanwhile, Johnny drives his car through the city, following Devi’s directions. They’re going to a really shady part of town, at least by Devi’s standards. Places like this don’t bother Johnny much. But he doesn’t like that they’re here for dry cleaning.

“Here. It’s here,” Devi says as she points at a nearby building. Johnny pulls over.

“Don’t you think this is getting out of hand?” he asks.

“Do you have a better idea?” she questions critically.

“Yes. Let’s go home,” he states.

She scoffs and gets out of the car. Johnny groans and follows her.

They go up to the front door and Devi tries to pull it open, but it’s locked.

“No!” she exclaims with despair. “No, it’s closed!”

“Well, it is Saturday,” Johnny points out.

“Ugh!” Devi shouts with frustration. She looks around for a second before stomping back to the car. “Come on.”

“Where are we going now?” Johnny asks with annoyance.

“My place. I’ll get him clean myself.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

They get into the car and Johnny drives them to Devi’s apartment building. She hurries up to her place and Johnny lags behind her. When he catches up with her, she’s filling her sink with soapy water. Johnny groans with aggravation and stomps up to her.

“Hey!” she snaps as he yanks Shmee out of her hands.

“Enough! You’re gonna tear his stitching again,” he barks.

“I have to do something,” she insists, “it’s my fault. I gotta fix it. I don’t wanna upset Squee.”

“He won’t be upset. Let’s just go back to my place and -.”

“No! I can’t fail at this too!”

Johnny stops with surprise. Devi covers her mouth and looks away, embarrassed.

“Too?” he questions.

Devi doesn’t say anything.

“This isn’t just about Shmee, is it?” Johnny asks suspiciously.

Devi scoffs and goes to sit on the couch. “Do you care?”

“Does it matter?” Johnny retorts as he sits beside her.

Devi sighs miserably. “It’s just…it’s getting hard. All I ever wanted to do was be an artist and spend my life painting. I knew it wouldn’t be easy but I thought I could do it.”

“But it’s been how many years and my career hasn’t moved forward. I’m barely living paycheque to paycheque and I work so much I don’t even have time to paint,” she laments, “I…I just feel like I failed.”

She stares at the floor, dejected and depressed. Johnny watches her blankly. He can’t exactly sympathize or empathize with her, but he gets the basic idea. Now he should probably help, but he doesn’t know how.

He shifts uncomfortably, steels his nerves, and awkwardly plants his hand on her shoulder.

She looks at him with surprise then cocks her eyebrow, unimpressed, when she sees he might actually start gagging.

“You gonna be okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, I’ll get through it,” he replies.

He lowers his hand and they both sigh.

“Devi,” Johnny says, “I’m gonna tell you something, but you have to forget about it immediately and never, ever bring it up again.”

Devi looks at him expectantly.

He takes a deep breath. “You…scare me.”

She blinks with surprise.

“And not just because you kicked my ass before. Even when we first met I thought you were unnerving. It’s actually why I can tolerate you. You’re independent and smart and loud and, most importantly, you’re strong.”

“You’re strong enough to follow your dreams and achieve them. And even if, later on, you decide you don’t want to anymore, you’ll be strong enough to make it through that too.” Devi stares at him, bewildered. He deliberately avoids eye contact.

She looks away, smiling. “Thanks, Nny.” He sighs in response.

Devi grins with amusement. “So I scare you, huh?”

“God dammit, I never should’ve said that,” Johnny growls.

She laughs and stands up. “Come on. Let’s go back to your house. I should tell Squee what I did.”

Johnny sighs with relief and nods. They leave her apartment and head back to his house.

When they arrive, Squee and Tenna are sitting on the couch playing video games. They pause as they walk in.

“Hey, guys,” Squee smiles.

“Hi, Squee,” Devi says nervously, “uh listen I um…”

Squee smiles sympathetically and stands up. “Let me make it easier for you, Devi. Tenna already told me what happened.”

“Tenna,” Devi snaps accusingly.

“I crumbled, Devi,” Tenna cries and jumps to her feet. “I broke like glass. But can you blame me? Look at this.” Squee grunts in pain as she grabs his head and jerks it up so they can clearly see his face. “Look at this face. Can you lie to these eyes?”

“No,” Johnny admits.

Devi sighs as she reveals Shmee and his blue-stained fabric. “I’m so sorry, Squee. I shouldn’t have tried to hide it from you. I just didn’t want you to be upset.”

“Devi, I wouldn’t be upset,” Squee says reassuringly, “it was an accident, I get that.”

He smiles as he takes Shmee and rubs his fingers against the stains. “This isn’t the worse he’s gotten. He gets beat up almost as much as I do. You know, some kid at Skool threw him into the chili in the cafeteria. The easy part was getting him clean. The hard part was keeping Pepito and Zim from putting that kid in the hospital.”

“What kid was it?” Johnny asks curiously.

“That doesn’t matter,” Squee replies as he goes to the kitchen. “But you know Shmee is a little supernatural. He’s actually quite easy to clean but uh only by my hands.”

He sticks Shmee under slow, running water and gently rubs the stains. The blue washes away instantly, mixing with the water as it disappears down the drain.

“There. All clean,” Squee chimes. He squints at Shmee’s arm. “His stitching is different.”

“I accidently tore his arm when I was trying to clean him,” Devi admits, “Nana sewed it back up.”

“Wow. She’s way better than me,” he comments.

He wraps Shmee up in a towel and sits on the couch with Tenna. Devi smiles and plops down beside him. She leans over and rests her head on top of his. Squee looks at her curiously but doesn’t question it.

“Hey, Tenna,” Devi says, “Johnny said I scare him.”

“Fuck sake!” Johnny barks, throwing his arms in the air.

“Ha! Really?” Tenna laughs.

“I never should’ve helped you feel better,” he snarls and stomps away.

“Aw, Nny, come on,” Devi coos.

“If it makes you feel any better, she scares me sometimes too,” Tenna says.

Johnny ignores them as he disappears through the basement. The girls laugh joyfully, Squee smiling contently between them as he gently dries off Shmee.

#Johnny the Homicidal Maniac #Johnny the Homicidal Maniac fanfiction #JtHM #JtHM fanfiction #IZ JtHM crossover #my ocs #my art

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