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loveactualharry · 5 years ago

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The Shamrock of the Sea [A Niall Horan short fiction.]

Good evening lovely people. I haven't been able to post anything decent on here for a while, and I know many of you are still waiting for part 3 of "December, 1997" - I'll be quick on that : it's coming next week.

Meanwhile, you might or might not be interested in a little Niall thing!

I originally wrote it for a friend, but I thought It'd be nice to share. So, here it's Part 1 of The Shamrock and The Sea.

Overview: Niall is the only son of a wealthy Irish family in 1897. He sails to New York to negotiate a business on behalf of his father. But The Shamrock has a different fate for him in mind.

Facts: Harry has a part in it as well!

--------——-------------------------------

24th July 1897

“Lily. For you, again.”

Her colleague had panted, throwing the umpteenth letter on her bed. She swiftly lifted up, sitting on the slender, uncomfortable mattress. Her fingers unfolded that paper, slightly wrinkly and rough. The words gathered in the middle of the page, written in a neat, clean handwriting. She noticed how the letters slightly leaned towards the right angle: the author of those verses had to have been lefthanded, she figured.

“One more? Jesus, it’s the sixth in five days.” Sarah remarked, absentmindedly tying the back of her apron.

“I know! Lily, are you sure you don’t know who sent them?” Selene asked with hands on her hips, squinting her eyes. Sarah darted at her, then turned around rolling her eyes. She did not like the questioning tone she always put out. And anyway, she was the last person in the position of questioning her colleagues, especially after Sarah had caught her sneaking out of his cabin. She twitched nervously at the mere thought.

Lily, however, failed to catch the jealousy displayed in the eyes of her best friend, still too caught up in her own thoughts to even care.

“I told you both, and a million times: I have no idea. I don’t know who sent them. Maybe…maybe it’s just a mistake.” She tried to convince herself, getting up and rubbing her palms on the wrinkly surface of her work uniform.

“Or maybe it’s a secret admirer.” Sarah winked at her with a silly face, “A secret admirer who is also a poet. Wait, maybe he is rich! Maybe it’s Lord Styles!” she battled her eyelashes, looking up with a dreamy face, before curling her lips and darting her eyes towards her friend, tapping her foot. “Are you fucking Lord Styles? You’d better not, or I’ll-”

Lily let out a puffed laugh, placing her hands on Sarah’s shoulders. She adjusted her long, silky hair, shaking her head. “I am not doing anything with Lord Styles. First off, he is way too out of our league, and second, I could never do this to you.”

They both tried to look serious but burst out in a loud laugh.

Selena looked at them from afar, hands still on her hips.

“Shut up, you are going to get us all in trouble. We’d better get to work.”

Sarah rolled her eyes again, sneaking out of her friend’s hug to follow the other girl outside.

“Yes, miss. But seriously, Lily, try to find out who this secret admirer is. Maybe one of the musicians?” she hinted.

“I think we are setting out hopes too high. For what we knew, it could be some kind of joke.”

She lowered her eyes, looking at the words inked on the paper one last time.

“You, that's what I've been missing,

Was tangled up and twisted

Now all the clouds been lifted

Lately, my heart's been so empty.”

Her heart still beat in the hope that it would be no joke.

--------------------------------------------------

Dublin, 14th July 1897

HORAN, NIALL JAMES.

The name was inked on that yellowish piece of paper. He read it one last time, then raised his blue, wide eyes. Niall was still amazed at that monumental, imponent structure in front of him. His gaze run on the long, majestic right broadside of the ship. Not far away from him, the long cue on the third-class passenger’s footbridge disgorged in a chaotic mass of unhealthy-looking and dirty men, women and children, gathering upon each other, pushing and shouting phrases in Gaelic.

“Come on, son, let’s move forward.”

His father grabbed his arm, dragging him around, in the that multitude of souls, looking for some sort of salvation on that ship. “The Shamrock of The Sea”, they had called it, in the hope that it would cast the light of good luck upon those travelling on it to the new world. Niall had heard many times his father ramble about how he knew the lord who had funded the construction of the Shamrock, but he had never paid much attention to that. He had never been fond of business and funding, and he had a relative interest in the world of major buyers and sellers. He knew, though, that the trip to America would be a lifechanging path for him, and he was grateful that his father had put enough expectations on him to give him the opportunity to go and negotiate a business on his behalf. New York was waiting for him, and he was excited. Yet, much as he loved his hometown and his country, he wished he didn’t have to come back to Ireland.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, my baby? You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

His mother stopped to wipe a few tears away from her cheeks. She hadn’t stopped crying ever since they had left Mullingar a few days before. Niall found it sweet and heart-breaking at the same time. Mr. Horan senior asked two of their servants to load his son’s trunk and all his belonging up on board. The boy cupped his mother’s cheeks, looking at Maura with a half-smile.

“I’m alright, ma. I’ll do what I have to do and…I’ll be right back to you sooner that you think. Stop crying for me, will ya, ma?”

The lady smiled through her whimpers and nodded. He held her close in one last, long hug.

----------------------------------------------

18th July 1897

Niall had spent the first few days wandering around, exploring all the salons, hallways and decks he had access to. Of course, travelling as a first-class passenger had its advantages. Nobody would pay much attention to him wandering around every part of the ship. He liked to look at the other people around him though. He fancied reading and collecting the multitude of emotions displayed on everyone’s face. Most of the passengers were rich, wealthy people, happy to be there, excited about their new adventure and all the comforts that would accompany them to the new world. He could recognize them. Not only by the clear expensiveness of their clothing and shiny jewels, but also because they wore proud smiles on their lips. The men often gathered around the counter of the bar for a sip of whiskey, or they would play cards, setting their bets higher and higher each time. Niall liked to play bets with himself, too. For example, he enjoyed betting on who would have lost at least half of their fortune before even getting to America. One of his favourites to bet on was Lord Styles. He was rich, extremely rich, apparently. And he would walk around the salons with a proud smile on his lips and, very often, more than one woman behind him. He had heard stories about him: he was, apparently, the most coveted bachelor of the whole Cheshire county. And nobody knew why. Niall liked to take the piss out of him, and he didn’t like him very much.

Sometimes, he liked to wander along the lower decks of the ship, and once he had even reached the stern, where the third-class passengers where hoarded. In was different, down there. Hidden in their cheap cabins, mother would try to soften the cry of their many children, shrieking out of fear and hunger. Some young men would whimper, facing the parapet running along the back deck, looking back and thinking about the mother and lovers they had left behind. Niall wondered which storied they carried along. He wanted to ask, sometimes. But he knew the wound of leaving their motherland behind was still too fresh, and scars were still wide open and too delicate.

His trip from Mullingar to Dublin had been long and exhausting, and over the past few nights he still hadn’t been able to adjust to his new bed, losing more sleep than he should have. His sunken eyes and his slightly unshaved face made him look older than he actually was, and he knew he needed some rest. After all, it would be a long trip to New York, and most of the times he preferred staying up at night to write or play his beloved fiddle. So, after lunch he found his way through the decks and staircases, to the cabin 402. He let his gaze travel up to the golden number on the black wooden door, then opened it, still holding the case of his fiddle in one hand. He rarely left it behind and found some kind of comfort in carrying it around with him.

The girl in the room flinched, then turned around as the key clicked in the lock. Niall stepped in, and there she was. She had dark, brown hair, which were thin and shiny. He couldn’t see her eyes, though. He put his fiddle on the freshly made bed, furrowing his thick, ash-blond eyebrows as he slowly walked towards her.

“Good afternoon, Sir. My apologies, I was just bringing fresh towels for you.”

She performed a quick, small bow in front of him. Then, she left with a fleeting glance. Niall noticed how her big brown eyes had rested upon his face for a little longer, before she stormed out of the cabin. He felt his throat go dry for a couple seconds, standing like frozen on the spot. He was normally not an impulsive man, usually very calm and thoughtful. But there was no hesitation in his steps, which led him out of that cabin, after grabbing the pile of white towels she had just left inside. His deep, blue irises squinted, looking around the corridor till he spotted her.

“Excuse me?” he called.

The brown-eyed girl turned around in his direction, still holding one hand on the handle of the wooden trolley she was pushing around on the mahogany wooden floor.

Niall straightened his back as he walked towards her in long strides. There they were face to face again. Now he could see. She looked younger than him, a couple years maybe, he guessed. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she carried no ring on her left hand.

“Yes, sir?” she patiently said, bringing Niall back to reality. She was staring at him, now. He had wide, deep, baby-blue eyes. His hair, she thought, resembled a dense honeypot, fluffy and perfectly combed. His cheeks were slightly puffy, making him look younger than he actually was, in contrast with the shallow shade of beard. He had thin lips, and a lovely dimple rested beneath his chin.

“Aye, I…I need to have my towels changed.” He demanded. Then mentally cursed himself.

She furrowed her brows in confusion, taking one step back.

“My apologies, Sir, but I brought laundry-fresh ones no more than one minute ago.”

Niall tapped his foot on the floor, following an irregular rhythm.

“I know, I saw you. I just don’t think they are clean and fresh enough.” He stated, handing her the pile of cloths.

She slightly parted her lips, but bit her tongue right after, taking a new pile from the trolley.

“As you command, sir.” She answered, handing the fresher towels to the man, never breaking eye contact, till she once again bowed before him and went back her own way.

“Many thanks, miss…”

His eyes were quick enough to shoot a glance at the silver name badge on her chest. He stood there, watching her walk away, holding the new towels in his right hand, before heading back to cabin number 402. He locked the door, frantically opening his large, black trunk, searching for ink and paper. Niall sat on the floor, writing her name on that page. Lily.

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invisibletinkerer · 5 years ago

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Fic: The Secret Journal of 'Stanford' Pines

Size: ~3000 words AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20864183

Stan Pines keeps a journal of brief daily notes during the summer of 2012.

Note: We all know that the Gravity Falls timeline makes no sense whatsoever. Therefore this is based on a headcanon timeline I made a year or so ago, trying to incorporate as many of the canon dates (in show and published J3) as possible, but ignoring the ones that were contradictory or made no sense. This still means some episodes did not happen in a strictly chronological order.

June 1

Kids are here. I have no idea what to do. Why did I agree to this.

Boy is a grump and girl made macaroni art in the kitchen. Did I even have macaroni?

June 2 Sunday

I think boy got spooked in the forest. He seems fine, though. Good taste in gold chains.

Girl is now dating some punk kid.

June 3

Kids looked like they’d been run over by the golf cart when they got back tonight. Not good.

Gave them some free gifts from the shop to cheer em up. Yes I know

Boy got a new hat. Should get him to wear a Mystery Shack shirt next. Girl found a grappling hook that was not in my inventory. Bold choice.

What would they say if they knew about me?

June 4

Fishing Season Opening Day – took the kids fishing.

Of course, they got excited about monster hunting instead. They’re listening to reason about as well as I and Fo did as a kid.

But. They came back to me in the end. We had fun.

I love those kids.

June 5

Soos found those cursed old wax statues I sealed up some ten years ago. Don’t seem all that cursed now. One had melted.

Mabel’s gonna make a new one for the wax museum. Meaning I’ll have to figure out how to make suckers pay to look at wax statues again.

June 6

Mabel’s wax creation nearly gave me a heart attack. It looks just like my twin me.

She’s crazy talented.

June 7

I’d say the wax museum reopening went well. Assuming “well” means “profit”.

Did anyone actually think I’d hand out free pizza?

June 8

Hanging out with my wax twin Stan, and the moment I turned my back he was murdered.

June 9 Sunday

Tried to hold a funeral for Wax Stan. Failed to keep it tounge-in-cheek.

Face it, Ford is long gone

June 10

Guess the wax people were still as cursed as I remembered. Kids killed them with fire – I should have done that long ago.

Dipper crawled in the vents all day looking for a wax head that got away.

If I keep telling him he’s delusional, he’s got to stop looking for trouble eventually, right?

June 11

Mabel decided I should date Lazy Susan. Couldn’t stop her. Now Susan and her cats keep calling me.

This was a bad idea. (I will never tell Mabel that.)

June 12

Went on a date with Lazy Susan to shut her up. That ended just as well as expected.

Need to figure out some more specific excuses.

June 13

The worst thing is, the Portal should work now. It’s functional. I just can’t get it to start.

Maybe I’ve been doing it wrong all along

I did fix that old copier. Don’t know if it still makes copies of people, but at least it makes copies of paper again.

Caught Dipper making oogly eyes at Wendy. I smell drama.

June 14

Did not expect “The Duchess Approves” to be that good.

June 15

The traditional Mystery Shack party that has nothing to do with any birthdays.

Mabel is a great singer, and that Northwest brat cheated.

Happy birthday, Sixer.

June 16 Sunday

Gideon Gleeful’s running TV ads again.

Of course my family goes to his show just to spite me.

June 17

Mabel played with Gideon today. Did not see that one coming.

As long as she’s happy, I guess.

June 18

I hate Pioneer Day.

Stupid people acting even stupider than normal, nothing works, then someone (me) ends up in the stocks.

June 19

Gideon and Mabel are dating!?

Seemed like a horrible idea, but Bud Gleeful has a point on the moneymaking opportunities if we play it right.

June 20

So if Mabel marries Gideon, his business will be incorporated into mine. I sure like the sound of that.

Bud is already making t-shirts.

June 21

June 22

OK, no. No deals with the Gleefuls. Not now or ever.

Mabel broke up with the little pest. Good riddance.

Got me a nice painting from Bud’s house, though.

June 23 Sunday

The Mystery Fair! It may look cheap, but it brings in the money.

Though someone broke all safety protocols and brought a futuristic laser gun to Dunkle the Grunkle. That’s unfair.

Mabel has a pig now.

June 24

Got roped into the gaming arcade with the kids.

Maybe get one of those games for the Shack?

June 25

Mabel decided to fix my fear of heights.

I can say this – being on top of a water tower about to fall over was unpleasant. Compared to that, a high but stable ground isn’t so bad.

Dipper got into a fistfight with Wendy’s boyfriend over teenage drama, but good on him for standing up for himself.

June 26

For some reason Gideon has gotten it into himself that he wants the Mystery Shack now.

Good luck, kid. I’m a better conman than you’ll ever be.

June 27

Mabel is slightly taller than Dipper. This is funny.

Gideon Gleeful trying to be threatening while throwing a hysterical fit after breaking my new mirror maze – mostly confusing. Wish I knew what went on in that kid’s head.

June 28

Kids made me wear the golden teeth. Guess they think I’m a dishonest man.

Fortunately, I’m good at bullshitting even when telling the truth. Think I scandalized the poor things. Hilarious.

Could have been disaster, though. Could have easily made them hate me.

June 29

Spent half the day falling down the Bottomless Pit.

June 30 Sunday

Summerween, now that’s a respectable local holiday.

Scaring children for fun and profit. Celebrating true evil together with family.

July 1

Hottest day of the year. Wax Stan was permanently murdered by the weather.

Closed the Shack and went to the municipal pool with the kids.

Gideon stole my perfect pool chair. It’s on.

July 2

Broke into the pool area at night to get the chair to myself. Which was a good plan, until I wanted to get up later in the day. The pest had coated it with glue.

The kids broke into the pool at night, too. Didn’t ask.

July 3

Opened the Shack again.

Can’t be too lazy. Tourists to fleece and all that.

July 4

July 5

Mabel bet she could run the Shack better than I can. Well. I’m nothing if not a gambler.

So, three days of vacation, in which I will make more money than she will make running the Shack. Winner takes the Shack, loser sings a silly song.

Best case scenario, she learns something about business and stops complaining. Worst case, she actually makes money and then runs the Shack for me the rest of the summer. Not bad.

July 6

Made it past the line to be a contestant on Cash Wheel, using my Old Man powers and lack of common decency.

Why is it so hard to sleep

July 7 Sunday

Well. I lost at Cash Wheel.

Guess that means I lost the bet with Mabel, too. Unless I go rob a bank or something in the time I have left. Hm.

July 8

Turns out Mabel barely broke even when running the Shack. She did win the bet, but she didn’t want my job, no surprise there.

I’m proud of her for learning something.

She still made me sing that song. On video tape. It’s kinda catchy.

July 9

Mabel’s friends came for a sleepover. They make a lot of noice.

July 10

Soos managed to uncover the door to Ford’s that old study I sealed thirty years ago the very moment the kids demanded separate bedrooms.

I never wanted to see that room again. His glasses were still there

Guess they didn’t want the room in the end, but now it’s open. Can’t re-seal it.

I think they messed around with the freaky carpet. Took it away at the end of the day just in case.

July 11

I fucked up, but I fixed it.

I got Mabel’s pig back, even when I had to punch a pterodactyl in the face for it.

She doesn’t hate me.

I love that kid so much.

July 12

That weird egg I pocketed from the dino-cave hatched. Dipper says it’s a compo-whatnot.

I call him Compy. He’s now my Mystery Pet.

July 13

Soos’ birthday. The kids tried to throw a party, which is. Bad idea.

Think he appreciated laser tag, though. And the magic pizza they got him. Never seen him so happy on a birthday.

July 14 Sunday

Turns out Compy is a very tiny dragon. Hoards stuff, mostly cash. In places I can’t reach.

It’s no good. Gonna hand the chicken-lizard over to farmer Sprott first thing in the morning before he bankrupts me.

July 15

Mabel and her friends went to some boy band concert. Got back late with a large pack of spoils. Probably robbed someone.

Wendy’s boyfriend is charming her with homemade music. Dipper suspects magic. Can’t rule that out.

July 16

There was a hypnotic message in the music, but telling Wendy about it only made the teenage drama worse.

Went bowling with Dipper afterwards to cheer him up. Should have a chat with Wendy, too.

July 17

Gideon I’m How could

Didn’t know Gideon was that serious.

As if half-lucid dreams about that yellow triangle wasn’t bad enough. (The kids know something. Not asking. I want them to stay away from that stuff.)

We’re staying with Soos as I panic figure out how to fix this.

July 18

I can’t fix this.

Gideon’s got the whole town eating out of his hand and I’m just a grouchy old man.

Doing the responsible thing. Got bus tickets to send the kids home tomorrow.

Whatever I do next, don’t want them to watch.

July 19

GIDEON IS A LITTLE SHIT AND I AM AWESOME.

Figured out his trick, proved it in public and now he’s in jail.

Got the Shack back. Got the kids back.

And. Get this. Gideon had one of Ford’s missing journals. I have it now.

July 20

I can’t believe it. Dipper. Had the third journal all summer.

All three of the dumb books are right here in front of me.

I activated the Portal. Simple as anything.

It’s scanning for Ford right now.

I’m actually bringing him back.

July 21 Sunday

Grand reopening of the Mystery Shack turned into a zombie-fest.

Kids could’ve died because I was too busy with the Portal to pay attention. That won’t happen again.

Should have talked to them about weirdness sooner. Hope they believed me when I said I have no more secrets.

A little worried that government might have picked up signals from the Portal.

July 22

Repairing the Shack. Too much undead slime to attract tourists like this.

July 23

Re-reopened the Shack.

Dipper got himself an old laptop computer from somewhere. Probably stolen. He tried to hide it.

July 24

Went minigolfing with the kids.

Mabel challenged Pacifica Northwest to a duel at midnight. I’m so proud of her.

Letting kids into minigolf courts at night to take a rich snob down a few pegs – finally putting my skills to good use.

July 25

I still can’t believe the Portal works.

It keeps scanning.

July 26

Tried to bring old Goldie back to the gift shop but apparently he’s unhip and scary. Had to throw him away before the parents sued me.

What I do need is a singing animatronic robot badger. That’s what kids like these days.

July 27

Soos missed work for the first time ever. Seems to be girl trouble, but the kids are handling it.

Would’ve stolen myself a robot badger if it hadn’t tried to kill me. Saved by old Goldie. No way I’m not keeping him now.

July 28 Sunday

Went for a Vegas vacation because I deserve it.

Not because I’m nervous.

Brought Goldie, might have gotten slightly drunk. And slightly married.

July 29

Mabel found herself a new obsession with hand puppets.

She’ll throw a big show on Friday. Made me rent Gravity Falls theatre for her. (Can’t believe I did that.)

July 30

The Shack is full of sock puppets and kids and Mabel keeps singing.

Guess this is my life now.

July 31

August 1

Soos went to his cousin’s wedding with his new girlfriend. Good on him.

Mabel’s still obsessing about puppets.

Dipper looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Can’t blame him with all this ruckus.

August 2

Play was good! Think it paid for the costs, too. Mabel’s got showmanship.

Don’t get the ending, though.

I mean. Children fighting always makes for good footage, but was it necessary to beat Dipper up that bad? I swear Mabel don’t know how strong she is.

A little worried about Dipper. He seemed high as a kite all day. Probably sleep deprivation. At least he’s sleeping now.

August 3

August 4 Sunday

Gravity’s going more crazy around the Portal the longer it’s on, but I don’t care.

It hasn’t found Ford yet.

It won’t find him if he’s dead

August 5

The Portal ate my notebook.

Got a nasty cut on the back of my hand from some debris, too. Could have been worse.

August 6

Tried to advertise the Mystery Shack for the kids at the Woodstick Festival. Hilarious disaster.

Being feared is worth more than being loved anyway.

August 7

August 8

IT FOUND HIM.

He’s alive. There’s a lock on his position.

Fuck I don’t I have to

I know how it works. It needs to calibrate for a while. It needs to be fueled for the big moment.

I’ll go rob a government facility right now.

(So glad the kids are off at the Northwest party tonight.)

27 hours and then I’ll see him again.

August 9

Ford is back.

I had to run from the feds and the kids found out everything the wrong way but it worked and he’s back.

But he doesn’t He still hates me.

Why would I expect anything else.

Don’t know what I’d do with myself if the kids weren’t here.

It’s fine. I fucked up everything, but. Mabel trusts me. Dipper forgives me. I’m fine.

not crying

August 10 Sunday

The Shack needs repairs again.

Spent most of the day making Duck-tective finale preparations with Mabel. We had fun.

Told the kids to stay away from Ford.

August 11

Dipper has predictably decided to be nerd friends with my brother.

Can’t stop him. He looks happy. Both of them do.

Still can’t figure out why Ford would have reality altering dice lying around in his sci-fi pouch.

Anyway. I knew Duck-tective had an evil twin.

August 12

I hate everything.

Ford will take my his place here soon enough, does he have to undercut me while I’m still here?

I’m running for mayor now.

August 13

Kids are helping me with a political campaign. Apparently I know nothing about politics and have unpalatable opinions. Bah.

August 14

The Stump Speech went great! I relax, words happen, people cheer.

Dipper got a lucky tie for me. Think it really works.

August 15

Should’ve tried being a politician before. Almost feels like people like me.

August 16

Nope. Politics is not for me. Too much mind control.

Should’ve known it wasn’t me making those speeches.

(The kids shouldn’t get into politics either. Can’t always be there to save them from murder.)

Turns out I’m not mayor material, but I’m a HERO.

Take that, Ford.

August 17

Rented an RV and took Soos and the kids and Mabel’s friends on a road trip.

Pranking the tourist traps. Good old Mystery Shack tradition for the last time.

Dipper’s practising flirting like a pro.

August 18 Sunday

Almost got eaten by a spider-woman. That could have gone better.

Have to admit, the kids are heroes too.

Don’t think Ford noticed we were gone.

August 19

Opened the Mystery Shack for the final stretch.

Two more weeks, then I’m gone for good.

August 20

Made a good deal on illegal pugs. Still got it.

Ford and Dipper put some magic mojo on the Shack. Not gonna ask.

Might have something to do with how badly Ford is sleeping.

August 21

Ten days left until the kids’s birthday and the end of summer.

Guess I’m doing a countdown now.

August 22

Nine days left.

August 23

Eight days left.

I’m gonna order a ponytail kit.

August 24

HELL NO I DON’T NEED THIS.

It’s the literal end of the world and the kids are missing.

Suddenly orange skies, goats turning into monsters, the whole shebang. I thought I had enough troubles.

That magic on the Shack seems to be protecting it, but. THE KIDS ARE MISSING. So is Ford.

??? 1

Day and night are replaced by eternal glowing orange and every single clock is busted, so no more dates.

Went out looking for the kids, but all I find is other people. Also demons. No sign of Soos or Wendy, either.

Been taking people to the Shack. Safest place on Earth for all I know. I have enough brown meat and elected myself Chief.

The kids are fine. Probably with Ford. That’s the ticket.

??? 2

Went out looking again. Found the Northwest girl dressed in nothing but a potato sack. She was crying and I don’t want to know, but she didn’t deserve it.

Been told the head honcho is the yellow triangle. He calls this Weirdmageddon.

Old McGucket showed up more coherent than usual, herding a whole flock of forest creatures into the Shack. Starting to get crowded here.

The kids are fine. Of course they are.

??? 3

There’s still people alive out there. I heard cars over at Gleeful’s place.

Didn’t see anyone else.

I’ve lost I couldn’t even

Mabel and Dipper are definitely still alive. So is Soos and Wendy. And Ford better be.

??? 4

They’re alive!

All four of my kids, bursting through the door like cops doing a raid but they’re alive!

Now all I want is for them to stay here and be safe. Why can’t they see that?

I’m done saving my brother’s skin and getting nothing but scorn for it.

Ford made his own bed with that demon. Forget it.

??? 5

Did I mention, the plan concocted by five kids, Soos, and a known madman is utterly insane?

They’re rebuilding the Shack. I just had it repaired, too.

It’s my house, but no one’s listening to me.

??? 6

I keep having this bad feeling about Ford.

It’s dumb. My brother has made it perfectly clear how he feels about being saved.

??? 7

Well then.

Not letting the kids lead an apocalypse rebellion against a demonic triangle without me.

August 25 Sunday

August 26

August 27

August 28

Huh. I can’t remember writing this, but it does ring a few bells.

It’s like I

I need to talk to Ford.

August 29

So. The apocalypse is over, and we’re all fine.

We killed the demon by burning my mind out when he was inside, pretty much.

My mind’s still there, but it’s kinda. Well. In need of repair.

Spent a few days reliving good memories.

Turns out there’s more than a few bad ones, too. But.

Everyone is so good to me

I don’t deserve this

August 30

I remember how Ford looked at me after I brought him back.

Now he acts like he likes to he thinks I’m

Now it’s like he’s my brother again.

He said. “Thank you.”

August 31

The kids have left. I’ll miss them, but I’ll see them again.

Until then, my brother and I are going sailing.

#gravity falls #fanfic #stanley pines #i still have feels about this old conman #it writes #unconventional writing

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sometimesiwrite · 5 years ago

Text

Dump It Out

A scene for two—originally written as Man (M) and Woman (W) but could be any gender with some textual adjustments. I wrote this years ago as an exercise to challenge myself to write conflict (I’m very bad with conflict. Writing it, or engaging in it) and I’m pretty proud of what came out. Enjoy!

Content notes: Coarse language, arguing with ex, ex lives close by, alcohol, smoking, discussion of cunnilingus/inability to climax, brief reference to infidelity, the general angst of trying to stay on good terms post-relationship.

Scene1:

M and W. Apartment living room. A ticking clock is heard.

W: So.

M: So...

(Pause)

W: That’s it? “So”? That’s all you’re going to say to me?

M: I guess so.

W: ...Can I have my book, please?

M: You’ll have to be more specific, there were so many books.

W: Come on, don’t—

M: On the stairs, on the bedroom floor, in the kitchen, on top of the TV under the TV…

W: I forgot how petty you are…

M: In the bed, let’s not forget. Christ, I think you spent more time with those books than you actually spent with me. In bed.

W: Well, maybe if you had bothered to brush your teeth before you came to bed it would have been a different story.

M: And here I thought true love was supposed to defeat evil and transcend bad breath.

W: Well, the storybooks were wrong.

M: I don’t know, it depends which stories you read.

(Pause)

W: Can I please have my book back?

M: If you can find it.

W: What?

M: If you can find it, you can have it.

W: I thought you had it.

M: I do.

W: But you don’t know where it is?

M (lights a cigarette): No clue.

W: Come on, I know you have it.

M: Clearly not since you keep asking me for it.

W: Well, I don’t know where it is, though, do I?

(M shrugs)

W: Oh my God, you don’t have it. I swear if you tossed it—

M: I haven’t done anything with it since you lent it to me. Can you please stop rifling through my things? My things that I have in specific places for a reason.

W: Calm down, it’s just your obsessive compulsive disorder talking.

M: I’m not OCD, I’m tidy. There’s a difference. I like to keep all my books in one place.

W: You can push my buttons all you want, I’m just here for one thing.

M: You sure about that?

W: Why, did you hoard other things of mine that I don’t know about?

M: I know, to prevent you from turning my place upside down, we could look for it together.

W: Please for the love of God let’s not do this together.

M: Come on, it’ll be fun!

W: Uh-huh, just like the grocery shopping, and breakfast, and lunch breaks, and going out with friends, and going to the gym, and going to the dentist, and getting our hair cut, and going to bed. You’re right, how could I forget that every single thing in my life was a million times more fun when we did it together!

M: Can’t blame a guy for trying to foster a stronger connection.

W: You came with me to the gynaecologist!

M: It’s an intrusive process, I wanted to be supportive.

W: It’s private! You didn’t even ask if you could come with me, you just showed up.

M: I wanted to surprise you!

W: It was humiliating!

M: I was being a good partner.

W: No, you were feeding an obsession and it’s weird.

M: I forgot how hard you can pull away when you want to.

W: Yeah, because I like to do things on my own.

M: If by “things” you mean literally everything.

W: Can I just have my book, please?

M: It’s in the house.

W: But you have no idea where it is.

M: Oh my God, you’re so intuitive. It’s like you can read my mind. Whoa, get outa my head—

W: Fuck off.

M: I thought I had.

W: Yup. Almost. Now where’s my book?

M: Which one? The book you were fucking? I told you, if you can find it, you can have it. I’m not putting in anymore effort so you can cheat on me with half a tree.

W: This isn’t some game, just give me the book and I’ll get out of your precious space.

M: Mmmm such spacious space.

W: Damnit. Tell me where my book is.

(Silence)

W: Do you have any idea where it might be?

M: I think it’s... Okay, yeah, sorry, I remember now… it’s definitely somewhere in the house

W: Well, are you going to help me look for it, or are you just going to sit there snarking into your cigarette while I go through your stuff longing for the day when your lungs finally collapse out of rebellion against your constant abuse and you slowly suffocate to death?

M: Wow.

W: Sorry.

M: That came out of left field.

W: Can I have my book back?

M: No.

W: Excuse me?

M: You don’t want it back.

W: Yes, I do.

M: Then buy a new copy. It’s not old, so it wasn’t a rare find. It’s barely flipped through, so you obviously didn’t use it that often (also, if you did, you wouldn’t have lent it to me in the first place).

W: That’s not the point.

M: Then what?

W: It’s my book and I want it back.

M: And you wanted to see me again.

W: Don’t be pathetic.

M: Oh, come on! If you really didn’t want to see me ever again for as long as I live — as you put it — you could have said, “forget it, I can live without that book” and never seen me again. This is classic you.

W: Excuse me? “Classic me?”

M: You want to talk about something but are afraid of being vulnerable and just saying, “Hey, honey, can we talk?” so you cook up some excuse to meaninglessly argue nothing until you can covertly segue into the thing you actually wanted to talk about in the first place.

W: For your information, even though it’s NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, I have an audition next week, and I need one of the monologues from it.

M: So Google it! Go to the library! I mean, Jesus, if you want to see me, see me, but don’t bullshit around with an excuse. It’s impolite.

W: I have a bunch of notes in there from the last time I worked on it and it’s the only copy I have.

M: Oh.

W: Yeah.

M: I didn’t know that.

W: Clearly.

(Silence).

W: Could I bum a drag off that?

M: No, you cannot! I swear I only ever smoked half my own cigarettes. “Can I have a drag?/Sure babe, no problem” Then, five seconds later: “Can I have another drag?”

W: …Can I have a whole one?

M: Only if you keep it to yourself.

W: I’m confused on whether that was a yes or a no…

M: Go on, then, help yourself.

W: Thanks.

M: Probably yours anyway.

W lights a cigarette.

M: You still not inhaling?

W: You still drinking your whisky with mix?

M: Touché.

W: Thank you!

M: You always did have the best comebacks, babe. I’ll give you that.

W: You set ‘em up, I’ll take the shot.

M: Cheap shots.

W: Best kind there is.

M: Boy, you’re something else, you know that?

W: So you used to tell me.

M: I still mean it.

(Pause)

W: You’re not so bad yourself.

(Silence)

M: I’ll be back in a second.

M exits. W sits for three seconds. Stubs out cigarette. Rises. Leaves. M re-enters.

M: Well, well, well, look what I… found…

Lights fade to black

Scene 2 M and W. An apartment livingroom—different from, the same as, or similar to, the one previous. A ticking clock is heard.

A vigorous knock on the door. W rises, goes to the door, opens it. M pushes in.

W (facetiously): Hi, honey, nice to see you too, please, come on in, make yourself at home—get out of my apartment!

M: What the hell was that?!

W: What?

M: What do you mean “what”?

W: I mean, “what?” as in “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

M: Gee honey, where should I start. Maybe let’s start with you leaving my apartment without saying a single word.

W: You left first.

M: That’s an old card and you’ve already played it once.

W: Oh, come on. What’s the big deal?

M: The big deal is you don’t get to do that anymore. It’s common human courtesy to let someone know when you’re leaving their living space.

W: Why? Never seemed to bother you.

M: Oh my God, I’m not getting into that right now. It’s just something people do.

W: Like who?

M: EVERYONE.

W: Like I said, you left first. What did you expect.

M: I was out of town for five days. I came back; you moved across the hall.

W: No, you were gone for months. Sure, you were there but you weren’t there.

M: You know, I’ve always had trouble understanding you when you’re too straightforward. Could you be a little more vague for me?

W: Go ahead, snark it off. Avoid the actual topic by manufacturing confrontation that doesn’t need to be there.

M: Arguments are more fun than conversation.

W: Okay, fine, whatever! You win! Just try to keep your voice down.

M: Never bothered you before.

W: That’s because I was the one yelling.

M: Oh, what, so I’m not allowed to yell?!

W: No, not in my apartment.

M: Why should I give a fuck what I do or do not do in your apartment? You clearly don’t care what you do in mine!—Or who—Here, want a cigarette? Mind if I smoke?

W: I cannot believe you are being so childish about this one, meaningless—

M: —Mmmm the sweet smell of tar and rat poison—

W: —Minuscule lapse in social etiquette.

M: So you admit that it wasn’t normal.

W: Yes. Fine. Could you put that out, please?

M: Then why did you do it? Why did you do it if it wasn’t normal?

W: Drop it.

M: No.

W: I wasn’t thinking clearly.

M: Not buying it. No one forgets to tell someone they’re leaving.

W: Wanna bet?

M: Stay on topic.

W: I thought I was.

M: Why?

W: I didn’t want to be there anymore.

M: And?

W: That’s it.

M: Nope.

W: Stop it.

M: You said you came to get your book.

W: Yeah.

M: You left without it.

W: So?!

M: So you couldn’t have wanted it that badly.

W: Maybe I changed my mind.

M: No. No, no, no, no, no, you wanted an excuse to see me.

W: God you’re pathetic.

M: Okay, yes. Yes I am, I’m pathetic. You didn’t want to see me AND you didn’t want your book. Se ya!

W: Let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.

M: It doesn’t close on its own.

W: Fuck you!

(Pause).

W opens the door without looking at M.

W: I wanted the book so I went over to get it; I started feeling weird and wanted to leave so I did. Now are you going to start acting like an adult and give me my book and maybe, just maybe, leave me alone?

M steps back into the entranceway.

M: See? What wasn’t so hard, was it? This is the one you wanted, right?

W: Yeah. Thanks.

M: Happy to help. Anyway, I’d better—

W: You want a beer?

M: It’s three o’clock in the afternoon.

W: Nevermind.

M: I didn’t say no.

W goes into kitchen, returns with beer for both.

M: Is there anything you want to say to me?

W: I don’t want to talk about things. Not right now, anyway, I’m too pissed off.

M: Why am I drinking a beer in your living room, then?

W: Because I don’t want it in my fridge.

M: And why’s that?

W: You bought it.

M: Then why didn’t you just throw it out? Pour it down the toilet?

W: Because I didn’t. Jesus, why does every little thing I do have to mean something?!

M: I’m just saying, why keep it if you don’t want it?

W: Listen. Stop it. Whatever it is that you’re doing, or hoping, or wanting, just stop it. Right now.

M: Tell me about work.

W: What?

M: You know, work? That thing you do to make money. I’m trying to make small talk, here, cut me some slack.

W: It’s shit.

M: Oh ya?

W: Yeah.

(Silence).

W: You know those little bottles of hot sauce they have on the tables there?

M: I always thought they were kinda cute. Made me feel like a giant.

W: Yeah, me too until I spent an entire shift refilling them and hand washing the caps.

M: Now, who wouldn’t love that.

W: Best part is, I went to take a shower that night when I got home and my bathroom still smells like cayenne pepper.

M: I thought you were going to find a new job somewhere better. What happened with that other place you applied to?

W: Apparently my tits aren’t big enough.

M: Your tits are perfect.

W: They told me I didn’t fit the “overall aesthetic standards”

M: Bullshit. And I should know, I’ve spent quality time with your overall aesthetic.

W: Knock it off.

M: I’m just saying, you’re a very attractive woman. I’m allowed to still think that.

W: Thank you… I hate this. It feels like I never get to be myself anymore, everything’s an audition for something.

M: Not everything is an audition, you know.

W: It’s easier said than done. Everything feels like a new role to play, like everybody needs something different from me.

M: You realize it’s not suppose to be that way with everyone, right?

W: What?

M: Well… Ah, I shouldn’t get into this now.

W: No, go on, say it.

M: When we were together I could never get you to follow… I could— never get you to, well, come with me.

W(offended): Well maybe if you bothered to focus on someone other than yourself—

M: No, no, no I tried everything. I don’t think you realize just how hard I tried to get you there.

W: Oh come on, it’s not like you never had any hangups yourself.

M: It’s biology, it happens sometimes—you know what, no, leave my dick out of this, he has nothing to do with it.

W: It’s not a person!

M: It may as well be, it feels just as confused and unsatisfied as I do with our current situation.

W: How?!

M: Do you have any idea how frustrating it is living across the hall from a woman you are still wildly attracted to despite the whirlwind of domestic dysfunction that follows in her wake? Every day, I go down to check the mail, and I can smell that you’ve just gone out. It’s like this cloud of you that hovers outside my door every time I go anywhere. Poof! There you are, and suddenly I’m having some Vietnam-style flashback and we’re in bed together and I’m stuck with my head between your legs and you’ve just got this vacant expression in your eyes and I’m trying to talk to you, trying to get some sort of response: more hands, less hands, faster, slower, a green light, a red light, anything. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? I’ve got months worth of Cosmo issues hidden under my bed. I’ve got seventeen tabs open on my computer about the complexities of the female orgasm and the importance of partner communication during oral sex (by the way, did you know that the Swiss have a completely different technique?). I now know more about the anatomy of female sex organs and hormone cycles than most med school graduates! If the police raided my apartment, I’d probably be put on some sort of registry!

W: I know how frustrated you were with the fact that I have trouble. And I knew you were trying hard because every single time, all I could feel was you wanting to get me off. It stopped being about us having fun and feeling good and just started being about how badly you needed me to have an orgasm so you could feel validated as a partner. And God help me, I tried to make it up to you, and I did a damn good job if I say do so myself.

M: Here’s a life tip for you: if you’re going to be with someone long enough for them to know your habits, don’t run lines when you’re trying to get him off.

W: That was one time—

M: And if you weren’t running lines, you were a completely different person. I would look into your eyes and see a stranger, you even felt like a stranger, it was weird.

W: It still worked, didn’t it? You got what you wanted, what’s the big deal?

M: Jesus, I wanted connection, I wanted for us to actually be together with each other. It was never about me just getting off to you—oh my God is that—What is wrong in your head that could ever make you think that that was what I wanted?

W: How much more connection do you need?! We spent every free second together. Every day. Every night. There I was, connecting with you.

M: You were always somewhere else, though. Somewhere in that book, in one of your monologues, in one of your audition rooms, with one of your directors… You were never just with me. There was always something or someone else in the room with us.

W: Well maybe I didn’t want to be the person who was with you.

(Pause)

M: You want to rethink the wording on that? Because that is one hell of a bomb to drop.

W: I don’t know.

M: You actually meant that.

W: I think so, yeah.

M stands

M: I’m going to leave now.

W: Okay.

M: Thanks for the beer.

W: You can take the rest, I don’t want it.

M: Dump it out.

W: Okay.

N: If you need to get anything else from my place, I’ll be at Tom’s for the next two days. I’ll leave the key in the mailbox.

W: I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.

M: Don’t wear any perfume if you go in.

W: Can you stay for a bit? We can talk this out.

M: No, we can’t. I need to be alone right now. I’ll see ya around.

(W remains seated. M exits) (A few moments of silence) (Fade to Black)

#scene #theatre #dialogue #creative writing #acting #argument #breakup #friendly exes #messy breakup #trying #this isn't working #you left first #couple fight #couple argument #one act play #one act #two actors #i didn't mean it #incompatability

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testifytime · 4 years ago

Note

do everything for me, you already know about me BUT: im described as "chaotic faggot" by my friends, i have no filter, I can switch from being outgoing to really nervous in a second, i like drawing, dice, and divinitation. i hoard candles and incense, and i like paintball.

- A Pokemon team/type theme (+ fun facts abt your team!)

Your team is full of Poison types! They’re used the most often for rascly lil fucker trainers, so, it fits :3c

Your signature Pokemon is Toxtricity, though your team also consists of Whirlipede, Haunter, Gloom, Toxicroak, and Crobat!

Fun facts!

Your Toxtricity was sent to you by your juggabro. In his words, it’s a “cool Pokemon to fit your aesthetic but keep you on track”. It can be pretty overprotective, but sometimes it turns a blind eye to the more chaotic things you do.

Your Whirlipede is just an entire baby. Even though it’s got toxic spikes on its shell that COULD kill you, it’s pretty much a lapbug. You just have to try and remind it to be careful before it goes in for snuggles.

Your Haunter and Gloom actually kind of hate each other! Having them out at the same time often ends up with you either getting paralysed or put to sleep. They’re super sweet when they’re apart, though, and both LOVE scritches.

Toxicroak used to be really loveydovey when it was a Croagunk, but now it acts like it’s too cool for school. It’s really not. If you pay more attention to another Pokemon it WILL jab you in the stomach. And then it’ll pretend like it totally wasn’t even because it was jealous.

Your Crobat is the sweetest of the bunch!! It likes to collect (read: steal) things for you that it thinks you’ll like, and is almost always attached to your back out of its Pokeball. Sometimes without you wanting it to be. It can be a bit of a pain, sometimes.

- Bloodcaste/lusus/chumhandle as if you were a Homestuck troll (+lore)

You’re a purpleblood with a seaserpent lusus! Your chumhandle is acquiredTalisman.

You live with your lusus in a hive that boarders where the jungle forest ends and the beach begins. It’s a pretty popular spot for violetbloods, admittedly, but it’s also the only place your giantass Seaserpentdad can actually fit; the mouth of the river is deep and leads directly out into the ocean, where he spends most of his time. The hive itself is pretty cluttered - because man, you suck at keeping shit tidy - and filled to the brim with your dice collections, your religious paraphenalia, and all the random junk you’ve stolen (of which there is a lot).

You have a few interests, of which the main is your religion. You’re a diviner of sorts, oddly sought out by your fellow purplebloods to tell them what their purpose is in life as stated by the Great Mirthful Messiahs. You’re not entirely sure that they really do speak through you, but your readings are scary-accurate, and not only does it mean that you’ve made more friends, but you’ve made a fuck tonne of money, too. You’re more fond of practicing with your friends, or on your own, sneaking what you can beneath your lusus’ snout; so far, he hasn’t seemed to question the candle collection you have, or the alter with the Faygo bottlecaps, or the cards, or pendulum made from a grubbone you got from one of your customers. Actually, he hasn’t noticed much of anything? You’re hesitant to go TOO far, but you do like pushing at what you can get away with every now and then.

On top of that, you love to draw - mostly as a form of worship, but also just for fun with your juggabros. You send drawings back and forth, even though you’ve never been able to meet them, and it’s pretty fun! You hope one day that you can get them to your favourite hangout spot to cause a little chaos - which usually means trashing the violetbloods’ rich boy shit and stealing things you know they’re too proud to tattle about. You don’t... always remember doing those things? But you definitely remember the amount of violetbloods that give you nasty glares whenever you walk past. It’s okay, though. You have a rifle and you’re not afraid to use it.

Beyond that, though, you’re... kind of lonely. There’s nobody that you really consider a friend around you, and when your friends do visit you, it’s only every few months. Having all those customers and the nasty violetbloods hanging around is great, sure, but... sometimes you wish you could move your hive closer inland to be near your juggabros. You could, you guess. But then where would your lusus go?

Your lusus is kind of ridiculously huge. You really couldn’t miss him even on the horizon, his giant form standing stark against the two moons. Not that he spends a whole lot of time above the water, though. He pretty much only comes back to get fed and throw a fit if he sees any of your purpleblood customers hanging around.

- Symbol/guardian/chumhandle as if you were a Homestuck kid (+lore)

Your symbol is a and your guardian is your big bro! Your chumhandle is augmentedTemptation.

You and your older bro kick it in a sweet lil bottom-floor apartment. It’s kinda dingy, kinda shitty, but it’s the best he can afford and you’re not really one to complain when you know how hard he works just to keep the leaky roof over your head. It’s got everything you want out of a home, anyway; separate bedrooms, tiny bathroom, sweet hangout pad that doubles as a kitchen (which you’ve got a curtain draped over so that it looks like they’re two rooms) - it’s pretty neat. It’s also got a fire escape out the back and easy access to the lobby doors that’re easy to pick, so you figure it’s kinda home.

You absolutely fucking love to play paintball. You’ve got a painball gun that you maybe stole from the store once, and a couple pellets you’ve been buying for cheap online whenever you have the money. You don’t... actually have anyone to play with, but hey, cop cars make a great target. It feeds into your general need for chaos, which isn’t limited to - but has involved - petty theft, breaking into cars, and spray painting defametory phrases against racists and homophobes on billboards. You’ve never actually been caught. Okay, you got caught once, but you’re really good at crying. You’re pretty sure your bro doesn’t know about that.

You like to practice witchy shit in your spare time. You’ve got altars set up for your patrons, and a candle collection that you really don’t know that you’re ever gonna burn through. Plus, incense! Your bro kind of hates the smell, but you just crack open a window and it’s like he doesn’t even know. You’ve also got a pretty fair collection of crystals, but that’s more because people just keep giving them to you? It’s wild what they’ve thought were just normal rocks, and you’re pretty sure some of your collection could sell for a pretty buck, but they make way better offerings.

Of course, you also love to talk to your friends online. You have a bunch! You’re pretty easy to get on with, you think, so you end up just kinda collecting people into one giant group of friends that never stops growing. You share art, play games, chat, make them worried sick when you do dumb shit - it’s great.

Sometimes at dusk you like to go up to the roof of the apartment block you and your bro live in and stand right on the edge. It’s so high up you can see around for miles, and everything below you looks like a speck of dust beneath your feet. The stars twinkle above you in the darkening sky, just barely visible, and you think, every now and then, that you are very, very small.

- A FNAF animatronic design and name

You’re a broken down animatronic, probably one of the earliest of your kind. Maybe even a prototype? Nobody really remembers anymore. You’ve just kind of always been there, at the back of the store, half a body and more coherent than people expect you to be, but never fully quite there. Your head lulls back and forth, your arms moving sluggishly, and in order to get around, you drag yourself across the floor.

You can speak, but not by much. It’s glitchy and switched out more often than not, absolutely terrifying to hear in the dark - but you’re a pretty sweet soul, all things considered. The few who’ve been brave enough to slip back behind the old, abandoned doors, past the cobwebs and through the narrow halls, who haven’t run at the first sight of you, tell tales of a sweet carcass who seemed more scared of being found than anything else.

There are a couple kids who routinely come back to visit you. They like to give you things they’ve found outside the pizzaria, mostly coins and old dice and things that smell sweet to try and cover up how musty you are.

You’ve never hurt a soul the entire time you’ve been there, but your reputation has been built on the whispers of kids who’ve seen the rotting maw of your muzzle, the glint of your endoskeleton and the shine of your eyes in the dark. They call you Thing - as if giving you a name will make you come to life.

The ones that know you better call you Peppi.

- A BNHA Quirk and hero title

Your Quirk is Corroding Touch. Despite its name, and how terrifying it sounds, your quirk is pretty simple! Anything you touch wastes away, and you can control how far along its own personal timeline it decays through. For instance, you could touch a flower and have it start wilting, and stop there on its timeline - or you could have it waste away to a point that it decays completely and turns to mush.

The drawback here is that what you’re doing is essentially speeding up a natural process. Things that don’t waste away without outside forces - such as rocks through erosion - won’t be affected by your quirk. Things that live very long lives before decaying - such as turtles - will take up a lot more of your time to speed them through their natural timeline. Finally, you can’t reverse what you’ve done. Once you’ve sped it through its natural timeline, there’s no going back; another quirk will have to undo the effects.

Of course, it also means that if you plant an oak seed, instead of waiting hundreds of years for it to grow into an oak tree, you can just use your quirk to speed up the process. So it’s a good-bad thing!

Your hero title is the Wasteful Hero: Corrosion. You’re a sort of last-resort hero, and you don’t like being in the limelight. Your quirk is dangerous if not handled correctly, so you work on a team with another hero who has a counter-effective quirk to yours (essentially Hyper Growth!). A lot of civillians are scared of you, but that’s okay. You know that what you do is important, and that your ranking doesn’t matter so long as you’re saving lives.

You are a little bitter, though, that your partner is several ranks ahead of you.

#turnfagshithead #long post//#heartless prince rambles

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thecandywrites · 5 years ago

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Orctober- Winter Formal and New Years

Ok, at the demand of absolutely no-one, I made a part 2 to my Fall Formal piece because dang it, I wanted more so I made more and this gets into my headcanons about modern orcs A LOT. LIke, A LOT. So I have the headcanon that orcs would treat the new year and then the reaping, which according to @momolady was in the spring, I thought (assumed) it was in the fall because, well, that’s when you usually reap your crops when you’re gardening, but whatever, I don’t care either way but those two events are some of the bigger “holidays” orcs would celebrate. And in my other headcanon that orcs LOVE SPICY FOOD. Like they would so eat jerk chicken, hot pot and well just any dish with lots of spice, lots of flavor and for me, hot pot is quitessentially like hot spicy person’s dream food. Because you eat it communally which orcs are all about their family and their clans and to me that just makes a lot of sense and please don’t think I’m trying to make any racial or ethnic slights in any way one way or another, this purely fantasy and conjecture at this point. So I started writing this at like 9pm last night and I of course- ran out of time and conciousness but it’s still the first for a few more hours and dang it, it’s gonna count. Thanks for reading. Also because I’m a lemon flavored factory there’s some smut at the end. Just...heads up.

Orctober- Winter Formal and New Years

Even though you had graduated early and had even started your higher education to be a medical massage therapist, you returned to your highschool for the honor of going with your boyfriend, Kihro to the winter formal which coincidentally was Kihro’s also last school function because he had taken your cue of graduating early and did so himself since his on the job training also counted for credits and cashed those in so he could get a head start on working full time at the sister branch of Wright Plumbing. And ever since your last hospital stay, you and him had been rather inseparable and had been going steady. It helped that you were friends and had that to build your romantic relationship on.

You had only started your massage school a week before and thankfully you still got to wear the dress you were going to wear to the fall formal, only this time- neither of you were really that stressed out this time around, instead both of you were so happy and excited and anyone who didn’t know you two were now an item definitely knew now and both of you felt like adults with both of you being out of highschool and in your chosen careers full time.

“Happy to be out?” Kihro asked as you both swayed to the music on the dance floor, the rest of world falling away except for just the two of you.

“Yes, you have no idea. I hope this is the last time we’re in this building, well besides maybe prom and maybe graduation- which I don’t know if I even want to come for those unless you wanted to go to those.” You admitted.

“Well, now that I’m out, I really don’t want to come back just for those either unless you really wanted to go to those but I could be making money on those days instead if you didn’t want to go.” Kihro confessed.

“Did you want to go?” Kihro asked you bluntly.

“To Prom? I wouldn’t mind, but to graduation? Eh.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I wouldn’t mind just waiting to see where we’re at then and cross that bridge when we get there.” You offered as Kihro nodded in agreement.

“By the way, I wanted to tell you that next month, after I turn 18 and can rent from whoever, I wanted you to come apartment shopping with me.” Kihro invited since legally orcs were considered adults at 16 and could drink and buy liquor that young and even could choose to graduate early at 16 if they had a job lined up that would give them the required credits and could even move out and rent from other orcs while others required their young ones to be 18 before they were considered adults and do all of that although more and more orcs were choosing not only to stay in school the extra two years, but get their own higher education too before they went out into the work force.

“Aww, that’s very sweet and I would love to but you know there’s no way in hell my dad would let me go to live with you before we got married, but it would make me really happy if you had a home to bring me to if that were to ever happen, even if it’s a little one room apartment, that will allow pets because I’m not leaving home without Kelly or Duchess.” You reminded him.

“I know, I’ve been keeping that in mind as I scope some places out, trying to keep your school and my work in mind. But the more I dance with you, the more I realize that I really, really don’t want to dance with anyone but you- for the rest of my life.” Kihro confessed before he pulled a gold bead out of his pocket and placed it in your hand and you knew enough about the orc bead culture now that you knew what this bead was and more importantly what it meant.

Orcs gave each other beads all the time between friends and family- some of them were cheap metal or wood, or stone or semiprecious stone and there were millions of glass beads that had an array of meaning and tradition because now that everyone lived in a more “civilized” world- beads didn’t always have to be so tough that they could last through wars and raids, now they could be more delicate, intricate and beautiful and the wearer could afford to be more careful with their display.

But gold- or any precious metal for that matter, that was reserved for very serious relationships, and usually engagements or weddings. And they kept the gold beads behind glass at the counter at the bead stores and they had levels to them, they had the cheap, flashy gold or silver plated ones with crystals and rhinestones and usually just about the time the plating would come off or tarnish- the relationship would probably fall apart and usually orc kids in elementary school or middle school bought them, but then after that, they got really simple in design, but solid gold and in your opinion- a bit more dignified and discreet and from there- then they could get crazy again, this time- real precious stones inlaid into them and could cost as much as engagement rings could and were just as varied and to orcs- just as serious as engagement rings. Your jaw dropped at how beautiful it was as you stopped dancing to look at it closer before Kihro pulled both of you off the dancefloor so you didn’t get run over as you got to look at it in better light before you realized there was beautiful pave diamonds in the delicate and intricate gold carving. He must have dropped a fortune on it as you turned it in your small delicate fingers and you could see that it was real 24 karat gold according to the stamp at the base and it was heavy, just like solid gold should be.

“Are you- are you proposing to me?” You had to ask as you were so touched your eyes started to water but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Well, yes and no, yes in that this is exactly what it looks like and no in that it’s not an “engagement ring” engagement ring which when the time is right, I’ll get one for you because I don’t think that’ll fly yet at least with your parents, but think of it like a promise ring, but in a bead and it’ll hopefully remind anyone and everyone that sees it on you- that you’re at least spoken for- if you want to be.” Kihro explained, his own heart hammering in his chest and in his ears louder than the beat to the music because the more he was around you the more hopelessly in love he fell in with you and he needed to make good on his promises to himself that he would always take care of you and protect you and do whatever it took to make you happy.

“I definitely want to be spoken for, especially by you.” You beamed happily before you happily jumped up on your tiptoes and kissed him as he welcomed it with open arms.

“I love you Brie,” Kihro professed as he pressed his forehead to yours as you did the same.

“I love you too Kihro.” You mirrored, meaning every word before you had him put it with the others. One of which was actually his to signify that you two were officially dating because again in orc culture- the intended mate got a stack of their pursuers beads presented to them and the intended got to pick out their favorite and wear it in their hair and it was not unusual for them to trade beads so that most orc men wore one feminine bead or even a gender fluid or gender neutral bead with their masculine ones to show that they were in a relationship with whoever while others did the reverse with their chosen gender.

A couple of weeks later you were at a proper New Year’s Eve party- orc style where Kihro’s family had made a feast for themselves that they brought to the clan’s Hall where everything that happened within the clan took place as you watched as all the tables had special metal pits in them to hold charcoal fire pits with a huge fire in the middle of the hall to get the briquets burning and the pots of broth and everyone brought their own feast but also gave to the clan’s “hoard” of food at the front where huge refrigerators were to keep things cold- in case anyone ran out of food or needed food or simply wanted to try something they didn’t bring and you gladly donated a few 5lb bags of shrimp to which made Kihro and his family happy and proud of you for your generosity.

The feast signified that the next year would be even more prosperous than the last as you pigged out on dumplings and king crab since your dad had “blessed” your relationship by not arguing or making a big fuss over your gold bead and now- he made sure to send you with a huge box of king crab- which was your favorite kind of crab along with a few bags of shrimp that were the size of langoustine lobsters and smoked salmon and some crawfish along with a cooler full of beer and specialty flavored moonshine that you and your dad flavored yourselves since the Soche’s were providing everything else including chipping in to get the clan a keg for the festivities, many families doing the same so that there were just as many kegs of beer as there were families, many of them seemingly to drink their weight in beer alone.

The Soche’s also provided all the noodles, hand made and homemade dumplings which you had come over to Kihro’s house every day for the last few days to help get everything prepped as Rhiox and Kihro were beyond pleased that you helped and because of your small nimble fingers, all the dumplings were folded beautifully, the different folds differentiating the fillings. The family also provided vegetables and beef and other meats for their family’s feast, most of them sliced thin so that it cooked in the spicy broth quickly or thick steaks cooked over charcoal fires in the tables themselves next to the hot pots since his clan’s tradition was have a huge communal hot pot gathering and cook out, but because of your delicate system, his mother made a special broth just for you that was flavorful but not nearly as spicy which you were eternally grateful for and even Kihro and his younger siblings enjoyed it and one of the traditions was that you sent the first bowl to the clan’s elders to pay homage and respect to them as they all sat at one table next to the “hoard”, none of them having to cook, but got served by the clan as a whole as you placed the bowl full of your own broth and other meats and vegitables in front of Kihro’s grandparents who were part of the clan’s elders.

His whole clan seemed to be beyond pleased that it was Kihro who had claimed you even though Kihro was embarrassed by that and had made sure that you understood that who you were as a person was all he cared about and what family you were from didn’t have a bearing on how he felt about you which made you happy and your face hurt from smiling so much and you eventually got used to everyone coming up to congratulate you when they saw the gold bead in your hair that Kihro and Rhiox had braided your hair spectacularly just for this occasion and you were happy that you at least got a huge orc sized bib to cover your clothes because of the hands on nature of this feast and of course you were happy to drink a really good chocolate mocha caramel cream stout with your meal because orcs loved to drink- beers especially and even though you weren’t fond of beer- this one- you made an exception for and greasy spicy kisses with Kihro were especially delicious from your spot practically in his lap because the special picnic tables were huge to accommodate orcs so because of that, there was enough room on the bench itself to sit between Kihro’s legs and leaned back into him and he was able to rest his head on top of yours, careful not to get any food in your hair as he ate one handed, the other arm wrapped around your waist possessively as his dad Kidron tended to the grill part of the feast while Rhriox made sure to feed Kihro’s yonger siblings who adored you.

Also because of your close proximity, you could feel how hard Kihro was, his cock tucked into his right pant leg as you “practiced” your effleurage and other techniques on his legs in between eating as his hand splayed over your belly under your apron sized bib that covered most of you like a blanket from your neck down as his fingertips ever so amazingly teased your slit through the fabric of your leggings and it was hard yet easy for both of you to act nonchalant and innocent and it was easy to brush off your flushed cheeks on the beer and the spice and it wasn’t until his parents and his younger siblings broke off to catch up with the other members of the clan that you and Kihro snuck away to the roof to “cool off” after he had gone to the bathroom to wash his hands extra good before he brought you up to the roof you happily got inside Kihro’s huge coat with him to stay warm in the freezing temperatures, the snow continuing to fall in big fluffly flakes, your head popping out of his collar as you literally sat on his lap this time as he sat down on one of the benches before he shoved his hand down your pants to find your still drenched pussy aching for him before he fingered you because you weren’t on any birth control but he wanted to prove that at least he could please you without his cock, even if it was just through his fingers which thankfully didn’t compromise your maidenhood as his other hand greedily grasped your breasts as he managed to kiss, lick and nip at your neck and shoulder as you plowed your head back and let it rest on his shoulder as you in turn pulled his length out and it squeezed in between your upper thighs and outer lips before it would poke out your front where your hand eagerly awaited the head to stroke it in time with your pelvis grinding the top of it and it was the closest you could get to the real thing.

“Kihro,” you panted desperately in a hushed whisper as his touches were sending you over the moon and all you got back was a growling snarl by your ear as he playfully yet softly bit down on your shoulder as he twisted your nipple between his fingers while his other fingers pinched your nub before his middle finger dove into your center to tap and rub at your G-spot and you grinded on his hand while your own hands squeezed around his length and pinched the head, his precum completely coating your hands and dripping down to your own lap as Kihro moved his own hips in sync with yours and because you were both pressed for time because you didn’t want to get caught, it only heightened your arousal and in no time at all, you came, another keening muffuled cry of Kihro’s name inside his coat as your core constricted and fluttered around Kihro’s finger which spurned him to shoot out a load so huge you couldn’t hold it in both of your hands and you had to quickly try to throw it out of the warm cocoon of his coat onto the snow around you so it wouldn’t get on either of you before you wiped your hands off on the snow on the bench on either side of you as Kihro recovered as you felt his sweat make his chest and your back that was pressed up against him wet.

“Damn.” He grunted before he pressed soft and sweet kisses into your neck and shoulder before he helped put you back together and get your bra back in place and your underwear and leggings back into place before he got himself put away and once you were straightened up he wrapped his arms tight around you to hug you and kiss your cheek before you turned your head to really kiss him over your shoulder.

“I love you so much, thank you,” he thanked you earnestly.

“I love you too, and thank you, ending this year with a bang and starting the next one off right.” You giggled before you checked the time on your phone.

“We should get back,” you urged before he reluctantly let you go and you both had to hide the “evidence” in the rest of the snow as you made a butt print on the bench next to Kirho so that it looked like you were sitting side by side before you went down stairs, passing another couple coming into the building as they were coming out and judging by their own giddyness, were probably about to do the same or probably even more than what you and Kihro just did which made Kihro and yourself burst into laughter once you got inside to warm back up for a few minutes, all of you watching the ball drop on the huge tv’s on the inside counting down before kissing Kihro once more when it was the new year and oh so happy that it all started with a boy, asking a girl to a dance.

#modern orc love story #modern orcs #orc #orcs #Winter Formal #New Years

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thotteus-beaumont · 5 years ago

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I’m in love with a boy

Summary: “Finest boy in the world...”“

“Don’t forget we have to stop at the video store.” Pete laid his head on Henry’s shoulder and sighed. For a moment or two, the three friends watched people pass them by with hoards of bags. They had laughs on their lips or kids at their hips but most of all, they just looked rushed.

Ship: Henry/Pete & background Jonesy/Beaver

Words: 4,450

{September, 1981}

The pink & blue tiles framed the spot of the floor in which Beaver had spilled his soda in a nice diamond shape.

Moon-Park Mall was about the closest shopping center to Derry (that didn’t just house dead Sears) and even it was a few miles outta the way. But the rush of after-school energy always made the trip worth it for most Derry-students.

The ceilings were lined in neon-light stripes which matched the tiles--minus the new huge fizzy-brown stain--and shined down a dewy haze of color on every customer. And the plastic trees littering each corner really enhanced the consumer paradise with a soft atmosphere comparable to a pretty sunset...that just happened to be over a ‘Frost-Bite’s: Ice Cream’.

Henry liked it well enough and the gang was far too rowdy to walk up-and-down the aisles of Derry’s finest pharmacy, Mr. Keene could only take so much.

Beaver had been trying to find a speaker to stand under when he bumped right into Pete’s side and unleashed his refreshment all over those dusty tiles.

“Fuck me Freddy.” He shook out his tiny palm and sprinkled a few extra droplets around. “I spent my last bit of cash on that shit.” His frown was genuine but the pout which followed was far exaggerated. Old ladies with baskets curled in their elbows, spared them a few glares as they strolled by.

“The forbidden drink...” Pete licked his lips and stole Beavers useless straw and made a forward gesture, as if about to suck the brown puddle up through his teeth. Jonesy kicked him.

Pete just chuckled and sat back down on the tiny bench by one of those plastic trees. He was still in his cross-country clothes; Derry Tigers stamped shorts and a matching red-and-white jacket. “No use in crying over spilled cheap-generic soda, Beav.” Henry rubbed behind his ear & bumped his glasses.

“Easy for you to say. You still got twenty-bucks left.” He scoffed.

“Oh, a, oh.” Pete echoed the song playing over the loud-speaker without even thinking about it.

“Yeah, and I’m spending it on one of those crappy hot-dogs from the food-court.” Henry stuck out his tongue.

“Oh, a, oh” This time, Jonesy joined in.

Beaver rolled his eyes but nonetheless, the four of them burst into a united annoying chorus with more of a casual expression rather than excited.

“I met your children Oh a oh What did you tell them? Video killed the radio star Video killed the radio star...”

With no obvious tell of their musical moment, “Get some paper-towels from Mr. Harper at the Pretzel place, Beav.” Jonesy lightly tapped the tiny mans back and ushered him to start in that direction.

As he took off, the others lazily plopped down on the bench and stared forward at the puddle, past their dirty sneakers. “Don’t forget we have to stop at the video store.” Pete laid his head on Henry’s shoulder and sighed.

For a moment or two, the three friends watched people pass them by with hoards of bags. They had laughs on their lips or kids at their hips but most of all, they just looked rushed. “We have to watch the movies at your place tonight cause Beav broke his VCR, remember?” Jonesy laid his head on Henry’s other shoulder for easier communication.

Pete’s nose wrinkled.

“We could always do something else.” Beaver butted in as he flew past them with crumpled up towels. He crouched down on the floor and began wiping the liquid away while Henry hummed. “We are Seniors after all--Pardon my big-boy talk, Pete. Some of us are Seniors.” He stuck his thumb over to him and Pete rolled his eyes.

“Interesting to hear big-boy speech coming from you, Beaver. What are you 5′3 now?” Pete chuckled and was rewarded with a face-full of soda drenched towel. “Ow, fuck.” He whipped it back to Beaver.

“Hey Pete, C’mere.” Henry flicked his tongue and gestured for Pete to come in close. He mumbled a few words into his friends ear in a whispered tone and both giggled.

“What are you telling him?” Beaver laid the towel over his arm and came at them like a tiny ball of fury.

Pete blinked a few times and leaned into the whisper before smirking. “Your credit-card number.”

“So?” Beaver shrugged, not seeing how that could possibly be a big deal.

“I’m gonna register you for that Modeling contest downstairs.” Pete could barely get the words out before laughing madly and hopping out of his seat. Running down the length of the 2nd floor before Beaver even started after him. He was that fast.

Jonesy craned his neck to watch them go and laughed quietly, hearing their annoying teases from way down the halls. “Where do you think they’ll end up?” he asked as the two of them slowly got up from their seat.

Henry hummed again, rolling his shoulders back. “Either the Food Court or Spinners.” Spinners had become one of Beaver’s favorite places ever since he first stepped into the aisles of records. “We better run after them, huh?”

Jonesy chuckled. “Oh, let’s get a move on.” He nodded and the two of them started to slowly stroll down the Mall, whistling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{Stupid Cupid by Connie Francis playing over muffled speakers}

Pete set his chin in the middle of his palm and watched Beaver aimlessly flicker through records. Sometimes he’d pull them out and stare for twenty or thirty seconds and then slide them back inside their bins.

Spinners sat in a nice little corner of Moon-Park which had a very convenient fry-stand nearby.

“What’s Randy doin’ today?” Pete asked, with a mouthful of salt-and-peppered garlic fries. He followed Beav with loose interest.

“Most likely making out with his girlfriend to something shitty like Jessie’s Girl.” Beaver shrugged, not much into whatever the hell it was that his older brother was doing on this fine day. “Why?”

Pete shrugged and swallowed some food. He breifly made eye contact with a passing dude in a white t-shirt that read; ‘I Love a Rainy Night’. “Remember when he used to chaperone us whenever we came here?”

Beaver took a few fries and smiled. “Yeah. Jesus-Christ-Bananas, time is kicking our asses.” He frowned and Pete pursed his lips, shrugging himself. “We’re gonna be graduating and then what?”

Pete felt a tug in his chest at the thought. He’d been doing his best all summer to pretend like they were all going to stay-together after the school year even though he knew better. “You’ll leave me behind.”

Beaver smacked the back of Pete’s head. “We say some stupid shit, don’t we Pete?” He gestured between them and Pete smiled with genuine warmth and fondness.

“We know what we are.” Pete frowned again but it was more mocking than anything and stuck out his hand. He’d been genuinely sensitive over the fact that he appeared to be a total moron compared to Henry and Jonesy ever since the start of their friendship. He was aware that outsiders recognized that fact as well. But the Beav always made him feel better because ,Hell, anyone would look dumb next to Gariella & Henry.

Beaver smacked it with joy.

“Smart enough to figure out who the villain is in Scooby-Doo-”

Pete rolled his eyes. “Be serious, idiot. It’s supposed to be something you’re actually proud of. This routine was your dumb idea anyway.”

Beaver chuckled. “Smart enough to pass Mr. Landon’s Algebra test.” He compromised and tipped his chin.

“Smart enough to get an A on that science test.” Pete smiled smugly and accepted Beavers distant yet proud whooping as he paraded once again around the aisles of Spinners.

‘I Love a Rainy Night’ guy went past Pete again with something like an interested look before pulling out a few records.

Pete turned around and nailed his back against the row of bins that Beaver was currently browsing. “Who sings that song again, Beav?” He tried to subtly point to the dude with his head.

Beaver glanced up over his glasses. “Oh, um...shit it’s-...Rabbitt.” He snapped his fingers a few times. “It’s like Joey Rabbitt or something, crap.” He mumbled a few names to himself.

Pete was pretty sure the last name was right anyway, so he slowly walked on over to stand next to the guy. “Rabbitt fan, huh?” Pete smirked.

The man nodded, looking eerily ready to play this little game. “Yeah. I am. Why?”

Pete hummed and ate another fry. “Well, you know the phrase ‘screwing like rabbits'? I think you and I can do better, want to try?”

Beaver nearly choked on his own spit as he watched the encounter. It wasn’t technically uncommon for him to see Pete do something so bold. The two boys had confided in each other (and each other only) shortly after puberty had told them that bisexual thing might apply to their horny-teenage selves.

It wasn’t exactly an accepted thing so they’d managed to keep it to themselves for a long time before they’d accidentally got drunk and maybe kissed each other to experiment. Their hypotheses were right in that they liked boys but the experiment failed in a sense because the kiss was gross. But it’d only been because the two of them were never meant to swap spit like that. Only when sharing sodas.

But this was an extremely bold move that Beaver wasn’t a fan of. If the dude happened to take offense to the ‘accusations’ that pick-up line held-

The Rabbitt fan just smiled and looked Pete up and down. “I’ll see you around.” He shook his head and strolled off.

Pete looked after him and chuckled to himself as he walked back over to the Beav who was uncharacteristically pissed.

“That could’ve been a real fuckarow, asshole.” He shook his head and took in the fact that he may have well been the ‘responsible’ one in this situation.

Pete leaned against the display again and frowned. “Sorry. But he was checking me out. I wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t been 100% positive, Beav.” He poked Beaver’s arm and looked mighty sorry. “I think he thought I was cute, at least?”

Pete’s voice was bright and giddy. Beaver had to giggle at the idea of an actual person having feelings for one of them. Between the four of them, none of them had ever had a real girlfriend or any meaningful sexual encounters.

{Peace Of Mind by Boston slowly transitions onto the muffled speakers}

Jonesy and Henry quickly cut off their stream of the giggles when they entered the store and happily came over.

“They didn’t take him. Too short.” Pete pursed his lips and mocked sadness, taking Beavers little arm-punch like a champ.

Henry rolled his eyes. “Beav you’re going with Jonesy to buy those dress-shoes he needs.” He gestured to the far end of the mall. “Pete, you’re coming with me to get those dang hot-dogs I want so fuckin’ bad.” He chuckled and playfully reached to grab Pete’s arm. Pete had no complaints.

The neon pink hues from the lights were bleeding into Pete Moore’s hair and blushing against his cheeks. Henry bit down on his sleeve and watched his friend messily dig into his own paper plate of food.

His mind briefly filled with memories of their childhood, he could almost taste the sweet candy that Beaver used to steal from his brother. As they grew, candy became weed. Henry chuckled to himself and swallowed a bit of hot-dog.

“Don’t laugh, I know I probably got food everywhere.” Pete rolled his eyes and took another large bite.

“No-I wasn’t laughing at you.” Henry giggled.

“Convincing, That’s what we tell Beaver when he does impressions in public-”

Henry shook his head and curled his fingers together under his chin. “Nah, I’m serious. I was just...thinking.” He rolled his lips together and felt oddly alive at the sight of Pete’s warm smile in this damn commercial building.

“What about?” Pete hummed, interested.

Henry wasn’t sure what exactly he had been thinking about. Just that it was...nice to look at Pete. To be with him. “Remember when Randy took us to the mall and you blew chunks?”

“Yeah, I was eating my weight in junk back in those days. Now, I’m all healthy and shit.” Pete wiggled his leg and gestured to his sports jacket. Henry lingered his eyes on his friends greasy tray and hummed.

“Time flies.” Henry shook his head and stole some fries off of Pete’s plate. “Soon we’ll be adults...” he widened his eyes for a few seconds while Pete seemingly paused mid-action. “I can’t imagine us like that.”

Pete swallowed and pulled his hands into his lap, leaning back casually. “I can’t imagine living past twenty-one...twenty-five, tops.” He chuckled, like it was funny but Henry felt hot anger.

Moderate traffic could be heard through the large windows and past the echoes of the thick sounding music playing over the loudspeaker. Henry picked a small collection of crumbs from between his teeth and let the neon wash over him for a second. “It’s forty for me.” He frowned, scooting closer and laying his elbows on the crusted table. “I just don’t know--...sometimes I think I was meant to be thirty...a comfortable adult, y’know? But forty?”

Pete hummed. “That’s a long time to try and stay happy.”

Henry blinked. “Yeah-...that’s...” He nodded his head and leaned back again. “That’s exactly what I think when I-...y’know?” He shook his head and sighed. They both turned towards the windows and silently observed the new falling rain, which tapped lightly.

“You’re gonna be with me though so...forty won’t be so bad.” Henry made sure to add that with the sincerest of looks. Pete made slow eye contact and dragged it out farther as he gently rested his chin on his elbows which were curled on the table. Smiling all the way like...well-...like he was looking at his best friend.

“Randy bought me a ginger-ale and walked me to the bathroom.” His chuckle was muffled as he hid his smile in the crook of his arm. “I thought that was the shit, H.” He giggled again which ignited a bit of confusion in Henry. “My best friend’s older brother was paying attention to me, y’know?”

Henry slowly copied his friends position, lowering his chin and resting it like he was falling asleep in class. “He had a Grateful Dead t-shirt on...and I thought he was the coolest guy.” Pete lazily smiled, looking a little whacked-out with charm as he always did when he was joyful. It was contagious. Especially to Henry.

He’d always been softly fond of Pete Moore.

“I gotta pee.” Pete made the move to get up.

“Hold it.” Henry smirked, teasing him slightly but also not wanting to break whatever this fun little moment was.

Pete cocked his head as if too amused with that comment to actually speak it into words.

“-I’ve seen enough brown puddles today, go to the bathroom.” Beaver cut in from behind them and happily bounced over to the table. Jonesy just bounding over from the escalator.

“He has to pee, Beav. You sick freak.” Henry stole Jonesy’s coke and took a long sip as Pete pushed little man’s shoulder on his way to the bathroom. Beaver broke out into hysteric laughter and ate the leftovers on Pete’s tray.

{A muffled version of Help Is on It’s Way by The Little River Band playing over those loudspeakers}

They’d managed to split up in all possible pairs before Henry and Pete landed together again.

Pete was strolling along the shiny pink railings and dodging large plastic leaves from the potted plants as he walked the length of the floor. Henry just followed behind him and occasionally next to him if he was able to catch up, that is.

Pete was a little in his head and had been that way since their snack break. But it didn’t stop him from roaming around the Mall as if he hadn’t been coming there since they were kids. He’d unzipped his sports jacket and revealed his old NASA t-shirt that was littered with faded stars behind a long rocket.

Henry was quietly enjoying the next time he ended up able to match Pete’s speed when he noticed some guy in a ‘I Love a Rainy Night’ shirt just down by the anchor store of their wing.

The guy seemed to be observing someone behind them with an expression of interest. It was only when they were in talking distance that Henry noticed the man was looking at Pete, who was far too deep in that mind of his to notice.

Henry wondered if they’d have to jump-start Beaver’s car to get outta the parking-lot this time.

The dude glanced down at Pete’s T-shirt just as his friend came-round from his little daze and halted.

“I think you might be a star, because I can't stop orbiting around you.” Eddie Rabbitt’s fan flicked his tongue and Pete’s cheeks no longer needed the mall light’s to glow pink. He seemed uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

Henry had to blink himself out of his own daze. He’d never seen a man so bluntly try to ‘pick-up’ another man...let alone Henry’s friend.

“Ha...” Pete looked at the patch of odd carpet they were standing on and scratched at his neck.

The man seemed to notice something that Henry didn’t and nodded his head. “Sorry, look...I thought you were someone else..” He mumbled awkwardly and went to walk off. He was a little ways a way when he turned back and gestured out behind him. “Can you tell me where the Sears is?”

Henry opened his mouth but Pete shuffled over and pointed off.

As Pete approached, the guy’s face quickly became apologetic. “Hey, look...I’m such an idiot. I didn’t even think about the fact that you might not even be um- out to your friend over there.” He frowned, in a whispered tone.

An odd flash of strong emotion punched Pete in the stomach. He blinked towards the floor and grouped his hands together, pressing them against his lips...a nervous little tick. “It’s...-” He flicked his hands out. “It’s fine.” He broke them apart and shrugged.

“Hey, man...” The man sighed. “I know this can be a lonely...and scary thing but it ain’t because of the thing itself.” He ran his hand down his face. “It’s the situation. “I know that it feels heavy to you right now and you’re scared to lose your friends or be ridiculed for just being...who you are.” Eddie Rabbitt’s fan gestured and Pete widened his eyes a little.

Henry was beginning to get antsy, wanting to know why it took so long to tell him where the Sears is.

“But you don’t need to settle for people who are going to treat you differently for that. There will always be people who love you for who you are and anyone else isn’t worth your time. You don’t need to hold this shit in just because you’re afraid to lose people who ain’t worth shit anyway.” He rolled his lips together.

“It’s the fuckin’ eighties man...I’m hoping a more accepting time is coming.” He looked around the people passing them. “I didn’t mean to come on so strong with that support, buddy. But y’know, there isn’t much of that going around for us.” He playfully slapped Pete’s frozen arm.

“Fuck man, I never really thought much of it.” Pete finally spoke.

“I admire that.” He nodded.

“Beaver giggled with me today...over a boy-...you that is.” Pete chuckled nervously.

“Beaver-?”

Pete waved his hand. “Oh it’s a nickname...for my other bisexual friend.” He laughed again. “He taught me the words.” He nodded to himself. “He taught them to me but I never really...appreciated them beyond...” He waved forward again. “Nodding along and rolling with it. Happy enough with the go-ahead that I could have more fun fooling around.”

The guy smiled and opened his mouth.

“Though to be honest, I haven’t been ‘getting any’, y’know?” Pete chuckled. “I’m only a Junior in High-school...I mean, I kissed the Beav but that was just a tester. And Julie Winters and I made-out during spin-the-bottle once.” He spoke in a rushed tone. “I think...I may have feelings for this guy but....Jesus-Christ-bananas, Henry is gonna figure out I’m not just telling you where Sears is, huh?” He frowned.

“Pete, by the way.”

“Senior. Trevor.” He stuck out his hand which Pete shook.

“My...” Pete looked back to Henry, who wiggled his nose to push up his glasses and shot him a nervous grin. “Best friends love me.” He bit into his lip but still managed a genuine closed-mouth grin, which was honestly more sincere than his toothy-smile sometimes. “And Sears is over there at the left end.” Pete happily snapped and flicked his fingers out.

“Thank you, Pete.” Trevor mocked a salute and was off in just a few seconds.

As he walked off, Henry strolled over and gave Pete an odd little curious face. He puckered his lips in a cute way and crossed his arms. Semi-distracting, in Pete’s opinion.

He opened his mouth but Pete quickly jumped in with something smart-

“I’m holding in my pee.” He blurted out and instantly regretted it.

Henry raised his brows and smirked.

“I just mean-...” Pete sighed. “I wanna talk. An hour ago, I feel like we were having this great conversation and I tried to get out of it by peeing.” He gestured back to the food-court. Henry only smiled, rubbing his curled finger against the tip of his nose. “But I won’t this time.”

“I don’t want you to burst, Pete.” Henry chuckled.

The bathrooms were no escape from the neon lights and colors, though they were an exclusive club for painted fish wall-decorations.

Henry was observing the way the colored bulbs bounced light over the fake scales of a miserable angelfish, one eye opened & his head cocked, while Pete’s stream of pee flowed behind his view.

“So, we left off on Randy?” Henry leaned his head back on the tiny wall which separated the mirrors from the row of urinals.

The stream turned into a trickle and then faded off with a zipper finale. Pete stood in-front of the urinal for a few seconds and listened to the muffled version of Fleetwood Mac playing throughout the Mall, just outside the doors.

He hummed and leaned back on the same wall, just behind Henry’s side. “Yeah. We did. Remember the ginger-ale?” Pete playfully reached over his shoulder to tap wherever he assumed Henry’s arm was resting. Henry hummed back.

Fleetwood Mac transitioned into a quiet Zombies song...’She’s Not There’...

The vocals seemed to bounce off those ugly yellow-plastic chairs which filled the sitting area outside. Henry turned so that his temple was what was resting on the wall and crossed his arms again. “I liked everything about Randy. He was older and cooler than us...” Pete spoke much softer. “The first time we went cruisin’ in his old car, his cup-holders were all sticky from coke residue and we were all singing along to ‘Stand by Me’...and that was my favorite fucking day ever.”

Henry watched Pete come ‘round from behind him and plop down onto the counter, covering the ‘No Smoking’ sign. “Douglas was there and he was singing with us. He kept repeating the same lines and it was way damn better than the actual song.” Pete chuckled at the memory.

Henry nodded, smiling too.

“I somehow thought Randy was responsible for creating that day and making it so special. It had been his car, after all? And he’d looked so fucking cool driving with the sun-set and shit. But it was the five of us, really. That was my real favorite part.” Pete gestured between them. “But...I was kinda gone on Randy back then, just didn’t really know it. Probably why I experimented with Beaver when I first recognized my feelings for dudes, huh?”

Henry pursed his lips. “Maybe. Subconsciously.” He nodded and Pete was expecting more from him. “I didn’t know you had feelings for dudes...” He coughed awkwardly.

Pete nodded, that shy smile came out again. “Yeah. Me and The Beav both.” He shrugged, looking up at the fish painted above Henry’s head.

Henry pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled, softly. “So, are you-?”

“Bisexual is the term that Beaver taught me. Means I’m into boys & girls. Same with him.” Pete narrowed his eyes in thought and hopped off the counter. He started to stroll out of the bathroom and back out to the brighter world of the Moon-Park Mall.

{A muffled version of Thirteen by Big Star playing over the loudspeakers}

Pete and Henry silently glide down towards the first floor by way of escalator, music playing but no words exchanged.

“By the way, my-’not talking in thirty minutes’-is a show of support.” Henry playfully yet awkwardly bumped their arms together just before they hopped off and dodged the play-train as it rolled past. Pete chuckled and shoved his fists deep into the pockets of his Derry Tigers jacket.

“I figured.” Pete shook his head with a smile. “Process it, H.” He shrugged.

Henry nodded. They walked towards the video-store and exchanged a few nervous glances.

“You experimented with Beav?” Henry blurted as they past a few quarter-swallow’s, as Beaver called the little machines which popped out gumballs and shit. Pete nodded and Henry hummed for the millionth time. “But it wasn’t good?”

“Nah. We’re not like that.” Pete stuck out his tongue in disgust. “That Randy thing is long-gone too. Just so you know.”

Henry pursed his lips. “Cool.”

Pete stopped walking and gave him a little-look. “Cool?” He raised his brows and Henry smiled.

“Cool.”

Pete did a little mini-shrug of surprise and giddiness. “Cool.” He repeated, more to himself.

Beaver was making Jonesy tie his shoe for him and glancing around at the videos on the shelves, a smile on his face.

“Do you ever get the feeling that horror films are becoming far too cliche?” Jonesy mumbled as he finished tying. They were standing in-between the horror aisle and the classics. “I think they need to make something crazy. Fucking aliens or some shit coming to earth and killing you from the inside-out.” He chuckled.

Beaver shook his head. “Oh, you are so the boy for me.” He chuckled, knowing all-too well that Jonesy didn’t hear a thing.

#sorry if this sucks #dreamcatcher #dreamcatcher (2003)#pete moore #beaver clarendon #henry devlin #Gary Jones #stephen king #stephen king books #my fanfiction

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rwbyremnants · 5 years ago

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WARNINGS: gender play, anal play, analingus, prostate orgasm, pegging, masturbation.

NOTE: Oh SHIT! It's all going down! Haha I'll see you guys in 2020 with the final chapter in this tale (but not in the White Noise universe, of course)!

=Chapter 10

The usual bag of tricks rested comfortably in the passenger seat of Winter Schnee's car as she neared Qrow's apartment. They had not been set to have a meet-up for a few more days, but she thought she might surprise him with an impromptu visit. A cancelled business meeting left her afternoon wide open, and she would rather check in on him - and hopefully net herself some "afternoon delight" - than find some paperwork that hadn't been done yet, or else go bother Weiss and Yang yet again.

Of course, one of the unspoken reasons she was being so nice and considerate of him lately was because she felt a bit guilty for keeping secrets. It was implicit that when Ruby had contacted her with a few simple-yet-direct questions, she would not tell her uncle. That was a line neither relation wanted to cross, and she full well understood the reasons.

Especially when she had asked Winter if she'd be willing to engage her in what she termed a "practice session"; not a real one, and not one that would end in either of them being stimulated to orgasm, but just one that would sort of walk her through the types of things that could happen in person, rather than reading or talking about it in theory. Winter had of course started out asking why she didn't approach Blake, but when directed to ask her herself, Blake's response-text was pretty curt.

"You really think I want to Dom my ex's little sister?! No WAY, not even for practice; it's just too close to home for me personally. You can if you want to though, I trust you to treat her right"

With that thought in mind, Winter chuckled to herself as she pulled into a parking spot near Qrow's apartment. It was going to be weird, taking on someone as inexperienced as Ruby who was even slightly related by blood to her usual Dom, but she also thought it showed remarkable maturity for her to ask for this type of session rather than jumping straight into the deep end. And, as directed by Blake, she would treat the girl with the utmost of care. That was a lot more important than her other reservations.

Then she was knocking at Qrow's door, so she decided to put all thoughts of Ruby out of her mind until afterward. It was only prudent. The first few seconds of Winter knocking, there was no response. It wasn't until she knocked for a second time that some footsteps could be heard approaching the door, and the latch was heard turning.

"What part of 'give me a week' do you not understa- oh…" The instant the door was thrown open, the angered rant was immediately cut off. An unshaven, unkempt Qrow had opened it, looking rather worse for wear – and smelling of beer a lot worse than usual, as well.

"Oh," was all she had to say at first. Seemed Winter caught him on a bad day. Her excitement over surprising him began to dwindle at an accelerated rate as she took in the look of him… and the smell. It was a combination of liquor and unwashed male that did not become him. "I… sorry, I should have called first. Don't know what I was thinking." Of course, she did, but now it seemed stupid and she didn't want to admit she was hoping to "surprise" him.

"No no I- uh… Sorry, been a hectic day." Although that's all he admitted, it certainly seemed like the wrong word. Taxing, perhaps, but this didn't seem like something caused by a rush of being busy for a single day. Realising he'd left her still standing in the doorway, he stood to one side, gesturing to the living room. "C’mon in."

With a duck of her head, she did so, looking around the room. Everything was a shambles. A few things were in cardboard boxes, and everything else was stacked up randomly, or else stuck in trash bags.

"What… happened to your apartment? Were your robbed?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, right." Shutting and locking the door behind the door behind them both, he ran a hand through his greasier than usual hair in thought. This was particularly strange for Qrow. His place was rarely tidy, but this much was a different story. It clearly wasn't just things the usual day-to-day mess, and unless he suddenly developed a hoarding habit, there seemed no explanation he could give.

"I'm just…” Qrow laughed and shrugged. “Havin' a good oll clear out. Y'know, throwin’ out some trash, organising, all that Queer Eye shit."

"Some trash? This is… just about everything you own!" Then she cleared her throat and attempted to smile, despite being so wrong-footed by the circumstances. "Well, if you'd like a lift to the store, or… to Goodwill… I have my car."

"Not today, thanks. I still need to decide what I can put on eBay, what I can give to the nieces… I guess I got pretty caught up in it all." Again, it seemed like a made up excuse. At this rate, him being robbed would have made the most sense for his behaviour and the strange circumstances she found him in. Still, Qrow was stubborn, and too proud for his own good.

Although there was one thing that was shooting his pride down a little, that was becoming obvious when he held an arm up to quickly sniff, only to curl his nose up. "Right… I should probably have showered today. Just got distracted."

Her own nose curled just as much. "Indeed. In fact, in you get, and then we'll… find you some supplies, or I can help sort. Ah, ah, ah!" she cut him off when he tried to speak, pushing him toward the bathroom. "Shower now, worry about these other things later."

"Alright alright, fine. Just, let me look at stuff before you throw 'em out, alright?"

The instant the water could be heard running, Winter set to work. The coffee table had already been cleared, and was now home to a stack of boxes, each labelled accordingly. With the weight of some of them, it really did seem like it was everything rather than just a charity haul. The rest of the room was more or less cleared, which left the only two alternatives to be the kitchen or the bedroom.

Considering Qrow would still need to use the kitchen, Winter headed to the bedroom instead. A sight that appeared much more like Qrow; an unmade bed, clothes over the top of the sheets, and a messy computer desk. At the very least this didn't look like a looter's treasure trove like the living room did.

"Even in here," she sighed, beginning to straighten up the papers on his desk a bit. There wasn't really anything there that looked like it might need to be sold off, so she focused instead on making it look orderly. However, as she was stacking a few of them up…

She saw the word "overdue" in red. Much more importantly, she saw the "eviction notice" at the top in large, bold letters.

Freezing on the spot, she looked away from the paper as she thought furiously. This wasn't her business. Qrow was not her "boyfriend", or someone that was more permanently part of her life; they didn't have a domestic arrangement of any kind. At the same time, he was a friend, and one she cared very deeply about. She knew she should forget she saw it and pretend that she never had, but concern for his welfare won out over the need to respect his privacy.

As she had feared, he was being evicted. Too many late rent payments seemed to be the main cited reason, although the letter also made sure to mention a few noise violations. Her head dipped guiltily; that was as much her own fault as Qrow's. How could he never have mentioned this? Her curiosity demanded she dig further into the other papers, but she resisted. The one on top had been bad enough, and it was in plain sight.

As she set the papers down, she bumped the laptop and the screen came on. The browser was open to craigslist, showing a few pictures of an apartment above someone's garage. It was a small space that didn't even have its own bathroom; something for a boy fresh out of college to think of for saving money, but nothing for a fully-grown man to call home. Other open tabs were also listings of various different apartments; similar, tiny one room places that didn't even come furnished. One of which even showed a photo of a mattress on the floor being the bed of someone previously. Why was Qrow looking for something this cheap?

Perhaps he could answer those questions in person. The sound of running water had began to fade away, and within a few more minutes, the bathroom door opened. Having forgotten to take a spare set of clothes, he entered the bedroom with only a towel around his waist to cover up.

"Sorry, Snowbird, I just gotta grab-" But he stopped in an instant when noticing the expression on her face, and that the laptop screen was now lit.

"I… apologize," she told him immediately, face carefully neutral now. "It wasn't my intention to snoop, and I hope you can believe me, but you should have told me about this."

There was a deep sigh from him as he ran a hand over his now shaven chin. So she had obviously seen everything, considering how all the bills were sorted into a pile as well as the lit screen. No faking out of this one. "How exactly do I tell ya? With flowers and a smile? Winter, it's fuckin' humiliating admitting I've been late with one payment, let alone four months straight."

"Four months? And you didn't…" Then again, he had just said it was humiliating; obviously he wouldn't want to tell her a single thing for fear of losing face. "Well, I'm… sorry to hear you're having money problems, Qrow, but I assure you that-"

"But nothing," he interrupted, glaring in her direction instead and frowning. "Everyone's got enough to worry about, with Weiss being ready to pop and the media trying to get into all that. The record biz for you and your pops. My income issue’s the last thing you guys should be worried about."

With a heavy sigh, Winter leaned against the desk, staring down at a patch of floor between them. "So, when were you going to let the family know? When they came to call and the landlords told them your forwarding address is under a bridge?"

"C’mon, don't exaggerate." Rolling his eyes for a moment, he went back to what he intended in the first place; find a set of clothes to wear. As he got a set of underwear from the nearby drawer, he was able to see one of the flats on the screen again. One of the worse of the few he had looked at. "So I'm not gonna be setting up in the Hilton… so what? Who needs a personal bathroom anyway? Just more for me to clean."

"Don't be stupid. You're not taking that place, even if you do have to take one of these." Her hand drifted toward the laptop again, but she opted not to touch; she had seen too much already, and he was cross. "Do you… want me to come with you to look?"

"No!" Leaning against the desk, he couldn't even power himself to look at Winter anymore. This was probably the worst she had seen him in a long time, and she'd caught him in some of the roughest patches. As he looked down to the numerous notices again, he found his hand curling into a fist. "Don’t need your damn pity, okay? I don't want people worrying about me! I'm a grown man, I can look after myself. I-I… I should be able to, anyway. Not some big baby."

She started to take a step toward him, then thought better of it and remained where she was. "Yes, but… if that isn't working, you should also feel like you can reach out for help. It's a brave man who does all he can on his own, but the foolish one who keeps trying alone when…" Her sigh was regretful, but she finished her statement anyway. "When clearly, it's not working."

"I don't need the speech, or a pity party." There wasn't much more he could say other then that. Finally turning back around, he sat himself on the end of the desk instead, running a hand through his damp hair. "What's done is done. Unless I somehow win a wad of cash, I can't exactly afford somewhere decent."

"You could stay with Taiyang, couldn't you? Just until you get back on your feet. And I have spare room, and I'm fairly certain Yang and Weiss do, too." A hint of a smile ghosted across her face. "You could be their live-in nanny. Sounds like a sitcom, doesn't it?"

Yet again he found himself rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I'd be a great influence on a kid, ‘specially on the days when I'm so wasted I can't get up. They've already got one mental case in that house, they don't need two."

But the instant that phrase left his lips, he froze up again, eyes beginning to widen when he realised what he'd just implied, and what he was referring to. That was a line that should never have been crossed again, especially not aimed at his own family.

"That was too far. Way too far. Shit."

Winter did laugh, but it was a strained, uncomfortable laughter. "As if I'd blame you. Don't forget, I'm the one that essentially caused her to have a mental illness in the first place."

Yet again, he deeply sighed, looking off outwardly into the distance. He knew he'd said enough, even if the person in question wasn't around to hear it. It still didn't make it fair. "Some surprise this is, huh? You come for some afternoon fun for yourself after a long day and have to be dealing with me being a dick to our family. Feel free to bail now if you want."

"A 'dick', hm? Not to my way of thinking. This… has been worrying you for a long time, hasn't it?" He didn't answer, so she finally walked around the desk and sat next to him, close enough that they could easily touch. "I wish you didn't think you have to walk through this alone."

"But I do have to, Winter. I'm the one that didn't pay my own damn rent, I'm the one that needs to find a new place. As much as I appreciate the company and the thought, I'm not gonna drag anyone down into my own personal swamp of bullshit!"

This wasn't like anything Winter had ever seen before in him. Qrow was usually so full of himself, annoyingly so. It was like he was an entirely different person. After a long minute of silence, she said in a soft voice, "Then… should I leave you be? You didn't invite me over, and clearly I'm just in the way here. When you have this much to think about, I'm…" Her hands made a helpless gesture.

There was still no further response. But it only took looking at him to see that one wasn't needed. The words might have strongly suggested he wanted to be alone, but from the shrugged shoulders and tense expression, it was very obvious he wanted the opposite. He was just far too stubborn to ask.

"Stop being so anal," she teased, bumping his arm with her elbow. "Relax. I know the temptation to be all wound up about this is heavy, but I know from experience, stressing yourself out will not improve a single thing."

"How the hell do you put up with me?" He finally found himself looking up from the floor and toward her. The confidence was still absent, but at the very least, he was able to force a nervous laugh of his own, even if it only lasted a second. "I can't be what you picture of an ideal guy. Alcoholic, unemployed, arrogant; yet you still give me the time of day. Makes me wonder if you're kinda nutty yourself."

"Obviously. Then again… I sometimes think we all are, in our ways. At least, when I said that to my therapist, she agreed that it's probably true - and she's a professional."

"Huh. Didn't think you were the therapy-going type." But after that, there was yet more silence in the room. As much as jokes and comments were Qrow's strong point, this didn't seem the time. But in the end, he rubbed the back of his neck again. "I guess… Well, it's embarrassing enough for me to admit this shit to Tai. And with the baby n' all, I’d be dumping stress on top of stress. I barely know Glynda, didn't feel right even thinking about talking to her. Then you…" Shrugging his shoulders again, he followed that with, "I'd rather not risk the best thing that's happened to me in a looong while."

Winter had no easy response for that. Instead, she merely leaned back against the desk for a few seconds, pondering his comments. Eventually, she whispered, "I'm not going anywhere. Especially not when… it looks like you need me right now."

"Then you really are crazy." He chuckled to himself again, getting up from the desk at last to continue fetching a set of clothes like he'd first intended. But pausing just after he'd pulled out one of the drawers, he looked to her with a smile. "But… I guess I should admit, as miserable as I am right now, I am happy to see you."

"That's good. If you saw me and thought 'Oh shit, it's Winter,' I'd be more concerned." Smirking as he fetched his clothes, she gestured around the room. "And anyway, you've made a good start with packing, wherever you end up. So I don't think you're totally hopeless."

More and more, he was beginning to think about what was said. She had a spare room. He'd noticed it a few times in his moments of staying overnight, but never really got to have a look. If it was anything like her master bedroom, it would be a fair size. Definitely no worse than the very flat he was about to be kicked out of – and a considerable upgrade from any of the ones on craigslist. It also offered good company, in and out the bedroom.

But there was a problem.

"You offering me your spare room though. No offense, but it’s kinda outta my range; I couldn't afford to pay toward rent of that place if I sold everything I had."

Her lips quirked into a slight pout. "Do you really think I'd accept your money if you tried? Not when you're in the position you are, Qrow. I do expect you to help keep the place tidy, buy some of the groceries, things like that, of course. But that's only if you would consent to living there."

"…You're serious?" He had been just about to slide on a pair of boxers before he froze, looking over to her again and raising an eyebrow. "What about your pop? Or Weiss even? Thought you had rules with mixing work and play."

"I do," she sighed heavily. "But this is more important; it's about your survival, your quality of life. I'd still prefer to keep my family from finding out, but they so rarely visit my apartment that it won't likely be an issue."

"Huh." It still seemed such an alien concept to him, that someone was so willing to help him and ask for nothing in return. Apart from paying for groceries of course. "You're actually willing to put up with me in your apartment? Cause I warn you now, I like watching cheesy sitcoms and war movies."

"I tend to watch more documentary programming than anything. However, I'm sure we can find a happy compromise." Then she fixed him with a hard stare. "I would insist that you try finding employment again; I know luck has been against you, but there has to be something out there for you. Just so you don’t think this will be a handout."

"Well, I'm doing that anyways. I do the odd job for cash-in-hand when people call, but other than that most of my day is job hunting." Though when Winter raised an eyebrow in doubt, he spared her a small smile. "And drinking, I guess."

"Well, there will have to be less drinking. I'm not saying give it up, but you have to cut back if you're to be presentable to interviewers; keep it to the evenings."

"Never drink before an interview." The very conversation with Winter was seeming like an interview of its own, but it was far more bearable when the end game was considered. It really would be a solution to his problems, and be far more convenient for them both. In fact… "Does this mean extra play?"

That brought about the most catlike smile he'd ever seen on the businesswoman, but instead of responding verbally, she merely shrugged.

"Oh come on, your big strapping Rooster just down the hall; how can you resist?" There was the Qrow she knew and liked. Over confident and flirty, and still with nothing on. Giving a small smirk, he abandoned that task, and instead sat on the edge of the bed. "And I can tell that's why you came today, right?"

"Well, yes. Not that I knew there would be a problem, of course, but… I had intended to grant you a surprise session with Princess." Her head nodded toward the living room as she added, "And I have the accessories to prove it."

"Then I guess these will be useless for the evening…" He threw the pair of boxers straight back into the drawer, standing up again as his smirk got even more mischievous. "One more noise complaint won't hurt; might as well leave with a bang."

"Pun intended?" she chuckled, walking past him into the living room, where she had left the supplies. In no time at all, she was walking back into the bedroom, eyes flicking to his nude form.

"So, I brought along a pretty fair selection. Nothing big or bulky, but most of the various items we might use are here. Anything you're in the mood for?"

That was a good question. In their months together, there wasn't much left to explore. Most anything dominating with Winter had been tried, and most things with Qrow had also been attempted, apart from those that didn't abide by his rule.

Although, that rule was starting to become less of an issue. The more Qrow thought back to the conversation with Blake that first time, that gesture with her finger, the more he was beginning to seriously consider letting the rule slip. Winter would know what she was doing, and they had safety words. There was very little reason to stop them from experimenting except for his own anxieties.

"Maybe… you could Dom tonight?"

That caused Winter to blink, and quite a few times. "Me? Oh… I had assumed you'd want to be on top." Mostly because his life was so out of control at the moment; she presumed he would want to regain that through play. Quickly she followed up with, "But of course, that's fine by me! What sort of experience are you interested in? Petplay? Spanking the naughty schoolboy?"

"Well, I kinda want your input on this one. Cause… something I wanna try. You remember the rule I set?"

"Which rule was that? Oh - the anal limit? Don't worry, I won't even go back there tonight. We can focus completely on Rooster's rooster." The last was said with a slight lilt of teasing, but mostly, her tone was very gentle with him. She wanted him to know that anything he wanted was his; she was fine with him playing the "power bottom" role for one night.

"Actually… damn, how do I put this?" Yet again he scratched his head. This wasn't going to be a regular session of play. It seemed that Ruby wasn't the only one of this side the family she'd be guiding through certain experiments. "I was wondering if we could, uh… try out some stuff."

"You… wait, wait." She walked over to sit down next to him on the bed. "This is a pretty sudden change, isn't it? Are you… sure? I mean, I have no problem - especially with you freshly showered - but if you're on the fence about this, then perhaps we should talk through it first."

Cheeks the tiniest bit rosy, he answered, "I've been meaning to bring it up a while actually. That first night we went to the club, Blake was tellin’ me about it. I was curious. But… y'know, macho pride, or whatever." He shrugged his shoulders yet again. "But I figure, you've just seen me at my worst, so there ain't exactly any shame anymore."

For a moment, she watched him as he carried the burden inside of himself. Then she leaned in and pressed her lips up against his neck before whispering, "I'll fuck your ass until you're begging for mercy, Qrow. But that won't heal what's inside of you. If you do want to talk later, I'll be around."

It brought a smile to his lips. Turning toward her instead, he looked once again between two things. Her eyes and her lips. Both were fast becoming his favourite thing, even if the relationship wasn't a romantic one. It was a friendship that brought comfort to them both, something that meant it didn't matter what people thought. With that in mind, he asked, "Don't suppose you wanna stay the night?"

"Oh, I could be convinced," she sighed, as if it were some great burden. Then she reached back and gently patted his hindquarters. "Now, as for this… you'd better start thinking about just how much you want to try tonight. I'll give you a good fingering if you want, or we could go even further than that. Up to you."

"Fingers sound like the best start," he agreed, finally undoing the towel and tossing it to one side instead. It seemed pointless to keep it on now. Yet again, he found himself looking to the bag that Winter had prepared. No doubt she would have only brought items to suit her needs in anticipation he'd take charge as normal. The strap on wouldn't be in there. However…

"Hey, what about that vibrator? That in your bag of tricks?"

Her smile was growing wider. "Somebody really is feeling adventurous!" Her hand trailed up his toned chest, through the iron-grey hairs that curled gently there. "How about… you let me take care of you, and worry about what I have with me later? I'll start off wearing a glove and then try some fun things." The hand stilled. "But don't forget our safety signal, and use it if I try something that doesn't sit right."

"Yeah, the chicken noises, got it." Nodding in agreement, he finally shuffled himself further back on the bed, laying back on it. A glove didn't sound so scary, not when Winter would know how to take absolute care. Looking to her from his angle, he smirked. "Have at it, I guess."

"You guess?" she burst out, unable to keep from laughing. Meanwhile, she did stand up from the bed to fetch her bag, out of which she nipped only two things: a small bottle of lube, and a pair of disposable latex gloves. "Now, this doesn't have to have all the 'domming' language if you don't want, but if it is what you want… you know what two words you have to say to start things off."

"Long as you're gentle." He had already began to part his legs, enough to give Winter plenty of room to work with. If it was any other situation, he would have leapt straight in, allowed Winter to call him everything under the sun. But in this instance, he wished for a more gentle start, just till he was used to things. Still, he trusted her enough to do that, and uttered those words: "Begin Play."

Winter paused to smile down at him as she pulled on the second glove before she nodded to convey her understanding. A thoughtful expression passed over her face; there was a route she could take their evening, but wanted to test it out first. See if he was interested.

"Someone's been a bad little girl." Then she raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for a response.

Little girl? That made Qrow raise an eyebrow. Seemed they were going to be experimenting with more than just his back end. Not knowing how else to respond, he lowered his head. "Yes, Princess."

A hand pressed to her lips as she suppressed a laugh. She had been expecting him to gruffly brush off calling him a "girl" in this situation - or any other! But now that he had acquiesced… this might be fun, indeed.

"Poor girl," she sighed, trailing a hand from hip to down along the thigh. "Keeping secrets like this… it won't do. Princess will have to punish you."

"This is gonna be so weird…" he muttered under his breath, yet did nothing to stop her as she toyed and stared at him more and more, finding himself beginning to blush. Her other hand fell to her hip as she gazed down at him, wondering where she might go from there. His anatomy was not erect, but it was fully exposed for her to toy with. But should she?

Not yet. "Turn over, because this little girl has earned herself a spanking."

"Yes, Your Highness." Back to spanking again. Seemed Qrow had discovered what Winter particularly enjoyed when it was her turn to be dominant. As much as he didn't mind, he was rather glad that she didn't have the paddle this time; the last session had him unable to sit properly for a few days. Rolling over as asked, he couldn't resist giving his hips a small shake to entice her.

"Ooh, she wants it," Princess chuckled as she watched her target sway. "We'll see how long that lasts." And without another warning, she reared back and gave it a little SMACK!

"RGH!" Even if it was barely anything compared to what Winter was capable of, it was enough to make him flinch, and clench his backside in response to the pain. But it wasn’t really bad. He could never explain why if someone were to ask, but it was almost an enjoyable sensation.

"Naughty little thing," she breathed, rubbing her hand in a circle over his cheeks. "You know you should have told me about the money. That you wanted to be fingered. This is what happens when you don't tell Princess everything."

Then, another spanking, this one with a smidgen more force. Flinching yet again, he growled under his breath. As much as the money situation was still a worry, Winter had offered enough of a solution for it to be talked about without too much stress. Frowning, he tried to look back toward her.

"S-Sorry, Princess. It won't happen again."

"Of course it won't. My naughty girl is learning her lesson, isn't she?" Another swat, followed by more caresses. "Learning it good."

Another flinch, another grunt, Qrow could only push his head into the pillows. The treatment and name calling still was an alien concept. Not that he got as much out of it as Winter did, but he could handle it. Yet again, he swayed his hips side to side, trying to entice more. Rearing back, she obliged what his hips were telling her, rearing back to thud her hand into him yet again. And again. With one more, she stopped and stroked over his soft hemispheres of flesh, taking a moment to trail down to the dangling sex and rub over everything there, as well.

"Does she like this?"

"Yes…" Perhaps it was the idea of being owned that made the pain so titillating. He could certainly see why Winter enjoyed being dommed so much. But yet again, it couldn't last. One strike hit the same spot too hard, and the pain was too much to ignore. Wincing, he grasped the sheets, breaking his character a moment. "O-Okay, no more. It's good but… argh."

"Agreed, I think you've had enough punishment. Now, it's time for your reward." Instantly, a finger was pushing up against Qrow's tightly-puckered hole. "And I think you've been waiting for this for a long, long time, haven't you?"

"Argh!" Instinctively he was pushing himself further against the bed, eyes snapping open wide as he gripped the sheets yet again. "Easy! Your… girl needs… a little warning. Help me get ready."

"I'll make her ready." But a moment later, there was a cold, wet sensation dribbling down from higher up, and the fingertip began to move from side to side as it coated the opening in wetness.

"Nnnn! Nnnoooo waiting with you, is there?" With this being more of an experimental session, Qrow wasn't too concerned with keeping his character. If anything, it made it more enjoyable, putting him at ease on what was going to happen. Within no time, he was relaxing into the sensation, letting go of the sheets and letting himself fully sprawl out for her. Already he could feel his rear relaxing as well, muscles loosening to let her in.

"Nope," she told him easily as her digit moved back and forth. He seemed to be much more open to this action than last time, and she could already feel the resistance giving way. The other hand drifted back and forth over his package, but not truly stroking; just teasing lightly.

There was a pleased smile on his face all through her actions. The more she prodded, the more he was opening up to her actions. Eventually he even found himself pushing back against them, biting his lips in anticipation for what was to come. He could tell this was going to feel good.

And it did - when she replaced the finger with her tongue, pushing it in to the level the fingertip had penetrated without any hesitation.

"AAaaaahhhh!" For the second time, a tongue was pressed into his tight opening, wedging him open around the wet muscle. Why was someone of her stature so keen on putting her tongue here? It was mad! But it was doing the trick, helping him open up more and more.

"Mmhhh," she breathed into him as she continued the treatment, both hands gripping his backside - and a lot harder than was strictly necessary. Her tongue was deeper than she had pushed last time, waggling from side to side slightly.

"Nnnn! Wint- u-Uh, Princess!" he called out, finally now starting to clench at the sheets as her tongue worked its way deeper, opening him further and preparing him for what was to come. That was if she planned that anymore.

"Is this what y-you like? T-to put your tongue there?!"

Back her face pulled, only for her finger to slide right back where it had been a moment ago. "Do you hear yourself?" she asked him in a confident tone as she easily flew past his lowered defenses. "Why do you think I like doing it? It makes little girls moan."

"Aaah… Hah… Aaaah…" But the moaning didn't begin until he felt the gloved finger return to the area again, until it pushed even firmer past the outer ring. The lubricated latex had finally worked her magic inside his body. Knowing it was his first time going that far, in that area, Winter began to push in and out at a very gradual pace. She knew how wild she could drive him, but there was no sense in scaring him off by jumping the gun.

The noises coming from Qrow were unreal. She was barely even in there and already he was continuously moaning and growling under his breath. How could he have not known how sensitive that area was? How could people in general not know this?! It was no wonder men like Sun would submit themselves if this is what they were feeling.

"Look at this little slut," Winter purred as she increased her pace, watching as the skin dragged against her knuckle on its way back out of him. "She really enjoys what I'm doing. Probably wanted this for a long, long time now… just didn't know how to ask."

"Hhhh!" He continued to growl out against the pillow, finding himself even pushing back against the fingers! For shame, he really did enjoy this more than he wanted to admit.

Especially so when he felt her finger brush against something very particular inside, and ended up suddenly gasping. The little sound caused Winter to hesitate, glancing down at him.

"Ooh, did I find something fun inside of her? What could it be?" Her finger hooked downward again, attempting to tease the same spot. Of course, she knew where it was, but she hadn't been aiming for it so early on.

"Fff-fuck! W-What is…" He could barely string a sentence together anymore. The finger stroked over that something a little more fully now, rubbing up against the oddly ridged little mass inside of him. This wasn't her first time toying with one, but it was the first time she'd touched Qrow in such a deeply sensitive region. His reactions were enough to encourage her to do more.

It was such an intense sensation. He couldn't get enough of it! The tightness of his own muscles around her finger added in with the massaging of the gland was becoming one of the greatest things he'd ever felt, even if it had barely began. In fact, it brought another bout of delicious shame when he could already feel his legs beginning to quiver, as if he was about to finish.

With a giddy little laugh, she stretched down and behind her as she continued to tease his little entrance, having to stretch her arms out but being able to reach. Then she began to shift slightly from side to side as she maintained the pace, not even bothering to explain her actions.

The strangest thing Qrow had ever felt happened. He finished, as he suspected he would, ending up shivering and shuddering at the mercy of Winter's fingers while he growled out loudly. And yet, he could feel nothing had happened with his member. It was barely even hard, but there was nothing aside from the slight glistening of pre. But it had felt like an orgasm.

"Whu…" he panted. "What was that?"

"Ooh, interesting…" Leaning back in, Winter's free hand drifted up and down his thigh as she held her finger still for a moment. "Seems like you have just enjoyed your first internal orgasm. You really are a good girl now."

"Internal… what?" Eyes widening, he took another few breaths to compose himself. "You mean you can have a butt orgasm?!"

Giggling bemusedly, Winter's finger began to move again now that he had a moment to recover. "I can't, not really. But you can in very rare instances. Anatomical differences, you know."

"Jesus…" Qrow laughed to himself, still gripping at the sheet as Winter's finger kept itself buried in his rear end. Amusingly, he could continue. In fact, he welcomed the sensation. This really was something new.

"Is my little butt-slut ready for more?" she asked. There was no further elaboration on what she meant, only the question itself.

More. It was something totally new to Qrow that he could do this multiple times in one sitting, or that he even felt up to that. But the finger buried deep within him was still sending tingles, still made him feel incredible. He certainly did want more. Slowly nodding against the pillow, he muttered, "Yeah."

At this muttered wish, she began to more vigorously move her finger back and forth. In the meantime, there was a snapping sound; the lube bottle being opened again, followed by the wheezing of it being poured… but he could not feel any more lube dripping onto his body. What did she mean to do next, exactly? For now, he didn't care. He was just continuing to enjoy the sensations of the finger pumping in and out of him, pace speeding up faster and faster. He might very well have felt like another one, but it felt like something was missing. He'd need stimulation in another area.

"Highness?" He only just managed to ask. "C-can I… Stroke myself?"

"Not yet. Princess still has a surprise for her girl."

A surprise indeed. Next second, the finger withdrew from inside of Qrow and was replaced with something… rounder, larger. Slightly more blunt. Already, it was edging into his body at an extremely slow pace.

"Wha- ah AH AAAAH!" Something was spreading the backside muscles far more than before. Qrow didn't even know that he was able to open up that wide! When it slid inside an inch, he had to look around to find out what it was…

And there was Winter, towering above him, with a length of her own attached to her hips. A rubber one that was doing it's job penetrating his body.

Noticing his gaze, Winter smiled sweetly down at him. "She's noticed her new friend." Her voice was honeyed and soft, and she paused that slightest amount inside of him, letting him adjust. "Do you like it?"

"You're… You're actually… F-fucking me?" It was stating the obvious, but he still couldn't believe it. Even when it was right there before his eyes, he could barely believe he was letting Winter do this to him. Nor could he believe how good it felt there, how good his backside felt being filled by the new object. He needed more of that. As best he could, he tried to shamelessly push himself back onto it, biting his lip to resist moaning again.

"O-oh!" Winter gasped quietly when she saw him being so eager. "The little slut really seems to be enjoying herself! Well, then… shall we begin in earnest?" Pushing her hips forward slightly, she gave him another full inch of the implement before halting again. "Still good?"

"Ooohhh…" He nodded against the pillow, still growling outward in pleasure. It was still an incredible sensation, just as her fingers were earlier. He wanted to keep going, to let her thrust freely.

But he still needed more if he was going to finish. Unable to help himself, one of his hands released the sheets, and immediately went straight to his soft length. Grasping it, he already began to work at it, trying to get it firm and hard again. Never before had he felt this needy, and it was all caused by a fake dick in his backside!

For another moment, she held still and watched him perform, enjoying the show. Then, deciding he was ready for it now, she leaned forward and pushed herself all the way in to the hilt. He was so tight! Still, tight though he was, his body fully accepted her toy with relish. And it would again, and again, and again.

"AAAHH!"

When Qrow first talked about ending his time in the apartment with another noise complaint, this definitely wasn't what he had in mind! In fact, if anyone would have told him a few months ago that this was going to happen to him, he'd have laughed in their face. Yet as he pumped his hardened member, he continued to moan out loudly, unable to help but clench his muscles around the thick dong in his backside to feel it there.

"Honest question," she sighed as she began to thrust in earnest, in and out of his tight hole. "Would you rather do this on your back? I know we started like this, but… up to you."

It would make it easier to pump his length. And it would let him see just who was doing this to him. That was a factor he didn't mind at all, knowing a woman was bringing him so much pleasure in the only entrance he had. Deep down, he preferred that. There was less shame that way.

"O-on my back," he agreed. "I-if you don't… mind."

"Not at all, cutie." But she had a fun surprise in store for him. Lowering her hips as much as she could, displaying an incredible flexibility as she nearly did the splits behind his end, she began to roll him while the cock was still deep within his backside. It was not an easy task, but she seemed determined to make it work.

There was another strained moan as she moved him around as she pleased, feeling the lubed member swirling inside of his sensitive innards. He ended up on his back, resting his legs onto her shoulders to give her plenty of room to work with. Once more, his hand returned to his member, grasping it to keep it hardened.

When he looked up toward her again, his face was completely red. It was something she'd never seen before in him, an animalistic urge to submit. And it was only her who would ever see him like this. Wrapping her hands around his ankles, she favoured him with a dark little grin as she pressed her hips in a little more and rumbled, "So… are you ready for me to ride you all the way to the finish line, my little mare?"

"I thought… hah… Glynda was the mare?" he managed to pant out. Still stubborn, even when he wasn’t the Dom. But regardless, he was already starting to pump his member again. Slowly, just enough to keep the pressure on before she could continue. Clenching around the shaft inside him, he nodded. "R-ready."

"Tonight," she sighed as her hips drew backward an inch at a time, "you are my fine steed, young lady." Then, with no other forewarning, she thrust forward with twice the speed from before, slamming their bodies together with a soft little thud!

"Aaahh!" Another moan for Winter's mare as he was thrust into again with far more intensity than last time. And it didn't stop there; soon Winter was building up her pace. Quite literally fucking him. He increased his pumping to try and keep up, desperately trying to get himself to get another finish. It was more to prove that he could than anything else. Prove that he could finish with Winter being the one inside him.

Only Winter. Ever.

"That's right!" she crowed out, bending his legs back as she picked up to full speed. "Fuck yourself, little princess! Come all over yourself! Show me how much you like me drilling you!"

"AAAH! HAH! HAAAH! H-holy SHIIT!" It was the last he could take. Everything was all too much, and he found himself giving into her completely. Another shudder of his legs while she grasped his ankles, another few pumps later of himself, and he was done for. The length throbbed in his hand while he felt the muscles in his rear end clamp on the member, pushing him to orgasm for the second time this evening. It was unusual for Qrow to see this much seed he was releasing, and all over his stomach and chest, no less! It truly was a shameful sight. But by this point, he'd completely transcended the boundaries of shame.

Of course, Winter fell silent when she saw the white fluid splattering all over his body, looking down upon him with mingling awe and satisfaction. That was something she never thought she would see the normally-proud man do, but it was most definitely satisfying. Her pace began to slow gradually, but she didn't come to a stop entirely; it was too fun to resist.

Gradually, the moaning was beginning to get slower, quieter, and more strained. His pumping slowed to a stop, and he had to grasp the bedsheets instead. Two was more than enough for one evening, especially in this quick succession. With that in mind, he tried to push himself backward off the member himself, managing to pant a response.

"T-that'll do… M-mare's had enough."

Chuckling quietly to herself, Winter gave one good, hard, final thrust just to get a rise out of him.

"NNNN!" Amusingly, that firm push had pumped a little more seed out of him, only just dotting his abdomen. But he wouldn't let that continue for any longer. "Hey, knock it off, I'm gettin' sore here."

"Party pooper." But the next thing she said was, "I'm going to try to pull out slow and smooth. Are you ready?"

After grasping the sheets to brace himself, he nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be." Nodding her understanding, she drew back and out of him in one fluid motion, an inch at a time. One last shaky moan, and she was free. Already he could feel his muscles beginning to tighten up again, and already there was an odd feeling of emptiness now that she'd gone. Not that he would be asking her to put things back in any time soon.

"So…" He just began to catch his breath again. "This doesn't mean I'm gay now, does it?"

"Perhaps a little, but no more than I am." Her shoulder shrugged as she rubbed up and down his hip once his legs were lying flat again. "And as I keep insisting, I'm straight with some small amount of leeway. It's not an either-or."

"Yeah, guess so." Finally, he gazed down at his chest. Splattered with his own juices, more than he had ever thought he alone was capable of. "Jesus! And I just showered, too!"

"No reason we shouldn't both shower now," she sighed, looking down at the implement she had taken him with. "After taking care of this, I might want to. No offense."

"Hey, you're the one that decided fucking me with a strap on was a good idea! I just wanted fingers!"

Half way through his sentence however, there was a repeated buzzing sound coming from Winter's jacket pocket. It was too late in the day to possibly be a client, and her father said he wouldn't bother her. Who could it be? Stripping off her gloves as fast as she could, so they would be inside-out and not get on anything, she tossed them onto the bed and snatched up her phone to see who it was. When she saw Yang's number, her eyebrows rose as she answered it.

"This is Winter."

"Hey! It's me! Um… Y-y'know how you said to call if anything changed?" Yang was sounding a lot more flustered than normal, talking quickly and stammering the odd word. From the background noise, it sounded as though she was driving.

"Yes?" she put in. "So I take it something has-"

"DON'T TALK ON THE PHONE AND DRIVE AT THE SAME TIME, YOU IMBECILE!" a screeching voice ordered a little further away from the microphone. "WERE YOU RAISED IN THE WOODS?!"

"WELL I COULD HARDLY SET UP THE HANDS-FUCKING-FREE RIGHT NOW, COULD I?! DO YOU WANT FAMILY THERE OR NOT?!"

The yelling was even heard by Qrow, who had just been about to clean himself up with some tissues when he recognised Yang's voice. Stopping for a moment, he listened in.

"Sorry, didn't mean to yell, but yeah! You could say that; I think from the yelling she's in labour!"

"Oh? OH!" Completely stunned by this development, Winter's hand pressed against her face, leaving a very light powdering from the latex glove. "God, this is- SHIT! Shit, does it have to happen NOW?!"

"What? What is it?" Qrow had whispered to ask, still not even close to being clean just yet. He'd been too busy trying to listen to one half of the conversation.

"I know, why couldn't Weiss have held it in for another week like she was suppos-" That thought was beginning to trail off for a short moment. "I'm joking, Winter said something about the timi-"

"IF YOU WANNA PUSH THIS BABY OUT YOUR FUCKING DICKHOLE, BE MY GUEST!"

"Eh heh," Winter said in response to her sister's moaning. "Just… hold on as best you can. Which hospital are you going toward?"

"Vanderbilt. That seemed the best one and it's closest. And will you please STOP FUCKING YELLING AT ME, I'M TRYING MY BEST!"

"Hospital? Wait… are you kidding me?!" Qrow had finally caught on, sitting himself upright at last and actually making more of an effort to clean himself up this time. No doubt Winter would want to leave straight away, and he hadn't even got a fresh pair of clothes ready!

"And I'm wearing THIS!" Winter shouted, gesturing down at her pelvis. Next second, her good sense had come back to her and she told Yang, "I m-mean, I'll be there as soon as I can! Just take care of my baby sister! I trust you!"

"GO FASTER! Run that red light!"

"I ALREADY RAN THREE! O-okay, later!"

It wasn't exactly the most reassuring way to leave a conversation, but there were obviously other things on Yang's mind right now. Just as there were Qrow and Winter's. They would need to skip their shower, and definitely rush the clean-up. Grabbing yet more tissues, Qrow continued to clear away the vast amounts on his chest. "She's a couple weeks early, ain't she?!"

"Tell that to the baby!" Winter grunted, dashing into the bathroom. The only sensible thing in her mind at that moment was to take the strap-on off in there and leave it in the sink, where she could also wash her hands afterward.

Collecting a random shirt from the dirty laundry pile, Qrow took a quick moment to sniff at the pit area. No real stench, it would do. He was hardly going to put on a spotless shirt when he was still barely cleaned. Forcing it over his shoulders and quickly grabbing some underwear and pants, he was trying to rush as quick as possible to get ready.

"Can't she hold it off or something? Clamp her legs together?"

From the bathroom, he could hear a near-outraged, "Don't you know anything about biology?! She can, but not for very long before her body decides she's being stupid and pushes it out anyway!"

"Well how am I supposed to know that?! It thought it was like takin’ a… y'know what? I'm not even gonna finish that." Quickly forcing on a pair of socks, he was more or less finished. "Mind giving me a lift, too? I'm still over the legal limit. Didn’t think I’d need to drive tonight."

"Of course. We'll just… say I picked you up on the way there." Just then, she returned, sans one strap-on and looking much the same as she had when arriving, though a little worse for wear. "Oh, and… try not to be too startled when the inevitable happens."

"And what inevitable is that?" he asked, hurriedly walking to the front door to thrust his shoes on and collect his house keys.

As she passed him to open the door for him, given that he was still struggling into his shoes, she muttered two words under her breath: "Lube fart."

"Lu- oh come on, you gotta be kidding me! Way to make me feel super gay." Finally finished, he quickly dashed out the door, waiting for her to follow first before he locked it and they could get on their way.

"Aww, listen to her; she's so angry about the lube fart!" Winter cackled as they locked up and raced down the hallway. Undignified though it was, she would continue to laugh about lube farts all the way there.

#black tie #white noise #Qrowin #qrow x winter #rwby fanfiction #rwby smut #rwbyremnants #nsfw-Text

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bloojayoolie · 5 years ago

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Bloods, Church, and Clock: LIG 70% 12:10 ADD MEMORY OPH ADD PHOTO SHARE THIS TRIBUTE JOSEPH A HELLER, JR 1937 - 2019 Obituary Obituary of Joseph A. Heller, Jr. Joe Heller made his last undignified and largely irreverent gesture on September 8, 2019, signing off on a life, in his words, "generally well lived and with few regrets." When the doctors confronted his daughters with the news last week that "your father is a very sick man," in unison they replied, "you have no idea." God thankfully broke the mold after Joe was born to the late Joseph Heller, Sr. and Ruth Marion (Clock) on January 24, 1937 in New Haven, CT. Being born during the depression shaped Joe's formative years and resulted in a lifetime of frugality, hoarding and cheap mischief, often at the expense of others. Being the eldest was a dubious task but he was up for the challenge and led and tortured his siblings througha childhood of obnoxious pranks, with his brother, Bob, generally serving as his wingman. Pat, Dick and Kathy were often on the receiving end of such lessons as "Ding Dong, Dogsh*t" and thwarting lunch thieves with laxative-laced chocolate cake and excrement meatloaf sandwiches. His mother was not immune to his pranks as he named his first dog, "Fart," so she would have to scream his name to come home if he wandered off. Joe started his long and illustrious career as a Library Assistant at Yale Law School Library alongside his father before hatching a plan with his lifelong buddies, Ronny Kaiser and Johnny Olson, to join the Navy and see the world together. Their plot was thwarted and the three were split up when Joe pulled the "long straw" and was assigned to a coveted base in Bermuda where he joined the "Seabees," Construction Battalion, and was appointed to the position of Construction Electrician's Mate 3rd class. His service to the country and community didn't end after his honorable discharge. Joe was a Town Constable, Volunteer Fireman and Ambulance Association member, Cross walk guard, Public Works Snow Plower and a proud member of the Antique Veterans organization. Joe was a self- taught chemist and worked at Cheeseborough- Ponds where he developed one of their first cosmetics' lines. There he met the love of his life, Irene, who was hoodwinked into thinking he was charming individual with decorum. Boy, was a she ever wrong. Joe embarrassed her daily with his mouth and choice of clothing. To this day we do not understand how he convinced our mother, an exceedingly proper woman and a pillar in her church, to sew and create the colorful costumes and props which he used for his antics. Growing up in Joe's household was never dull. If the old adage of "You only pull the hair of those you love" holds true, his three daughters were well loved. Joe was a frequent customer of the girls' beauty shops, allowing them to "do" his hair and apply make-up liberally. He lovingly assembled doll furniture and built thema play kitchen and forts in the back yard. During their formative years, Joe made sure that their moral fibers were enriched by both Archie Bunker and Benny Hill When they began dating, Joe would greet their dates by first running their license plates and checking for bald tires. If their vehicle passed inspection, they were invited into the house where shotguns, harpoons and sheep "nutters" were left clearly on display. After retiring from running Bombaci Fuel, he was perhaps, most well-known for his role as the Essex Town "Dawg Kecher." He refused to put any of his "prisoners" down and would look for the perfect homes for them. One of them was a repeat offender who he named "A**hole" because no owner would ever keep him for very long because he was, in fact, an daily a**hole. My Dad would take his buddy on rides in his van and they'd roam around town with the breeze blowing through both of their fur He never met a dog he didn't like, the same could not be said for the wanna-be blue bloods, snoots and summer barnacles that roamed about town. His words, not ours. Well maybe not exactly his words as those would been much more colorful. Joe was a frequent shopper at the Essex Dump and he left his family with a house full of crap, 300 pounds of birdseed and dead houseplants that they have no idea what to do with. If there was ever a treasure that he snatched out from under you among the mounds of junk, please wait the appropriate amount of time to contact the family to claim your loot. We're available tomorrow. Joe was also a consummate napper. There wasn't a road, restaurant or friend's house in Essex that he didn't fall asleep on or in. There wasn't an occasion too formal or an event too dour that Joe didn't interrupt with his apnea and voluminous snoring. Besides his beloved wife, Irene, and brother, Bobby, Joe was pre-deceased by his pet fish, Jack, who we found in the freezer last week. Left to squabble over his vast fortune, real estate holdings and "treasures" are his three daughters Michelle Heller (Andrew Bennett) of Newton, MA, Lisette Heller (Lenny Estelle) of Ivoryton, CT and Monique Heller (John Parnoff) of Old Lyme, CT. He relished his role as Papa and Grampa Joe to Zachary, Maxwell and Emily Bennett, Megan, Mackenzie and Ryan Korcak, and Giovanna and Mattea Parnoff and hopes that he taught at least one of them to cuss properly. Left with decades of fond and colorful memories are his siblings Pat Bedard of Madison, Richard (Pat) Heller of Oxford, and Kathy Heller of Killingworth, sisters-in-law, Kathy McGowan of Niantic and Diane Breslin of Killingworth, and 14 nieces and nephews. No flowers, please. The family is seeking donations to offset the expense of publishing an exceedingly long obituary which would have really pissed Joe off. Seriously, what would have made him the happiest is for you to go have a cup of coffee with a friend and bullsh*t about his antics or play a harmless prank on some unsuspecting sap. If we still haven't dissuaded you and you feel compelled to waste your hard-earned money to honor his memory, donations may be sent to: Seabee Memorial Scholarship Association, PO Box 667, Gulfport, MS 39502. A celebration of his life, with Joe laid out in all his glory, will be held on Thursday, September 12, at the Essex Fire Department, 11 Saybrook Road, from 4-7. A light dinner will be served as Joe felt no get-together was complete without food. None of his leftovers or kitchen concoctions will be pawned off on any unsuspecting guests. Feel free to be as late as you'd like as Joe was never on time for anything because of the aforementioned napping habits. Joe despised formality and stuffiness and would really be ticked off if you showed up in a suit. Dress comfortably. The family encourages you to don the most inappropriate T-Shirt that you are comfortable being seen in public with as Joe often did. Everybody has a Joe story and we'd love to hear them all. Joe faced his death and his mortality, as he did with his life, face on, often telling us that when he dropped dead to dig a hole in the back yard and just roll him in. Much to his disappointment, he will be properly interred with full military honors (and maybe Jack) next to his wife on Friday, September 13, at 10:00 am in Centerbrook Cemetery. The family is forever in debt to his neighbor, Barry Peterson, for all of his help in recent years. We couldn't have done it without you. Sorry, Mom, Lisette and I did the best we could to take care of him and keep him out of your hair as long as we could. Back in your court now. Add Condolence THURSDAY 12 SEPTEMBER GET DIRECTIONS VISITATION 4:00 pm - 7:00 pm Thursday, September 12, 2019 Essex Fire Company

#funny #lol #humor #memes #meme #memehumor #dank memes #funny pics #rolf #lmao #Bloods #Church #and C

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wowheadquarters · 6 years ago

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Their guilty pleasures

For @shatterstar1998. I bet that you know what I am talking about - something you like but are embarrased about it for whatever reason. Maybe it’s not legal, maybe it just doesn’t fit with your aesthetic, maybe... It doesn’t matter why. What matters is what guilty pleasures the leaders have!

Anduin: He is very pleased that he’s rarely bested in chess and jihui and hawks-and-hares. Very proud of it, too. He feels bad about feeling the pride because he is trying to be this humble priest of the Light.

Ghost Varin: Back rubs. Good gods, back rubs... Don’t you dare to touch this man, especially from behind, but he is such a sucker for back rubs. (And massages, sweet Light, his back is stiff.)

The Council of Three Hammers:

Muradin: Caring about his appearance. To get ready and look like a Dwarf takes him very long in the morning. His bathroom is stuffed with lotions and day creams and night crams and highlighters and nail polishes and beard conditioners... Muradin likes to look pretty, but feels guilty he puts so much effort into it. Moira: That she is far more immune to cold than the Dark Iron Dwarves. She is a Bronzebeard by birth, she has been born in ice and snow, she can handle it in a top tank and a skirt, while you all have to wear three pair of scarves and you are still cold! Falstad: He likes to wear flower crowns. He looks a bit stupid, though. And cute. Someone has once told him it doesn’t look manly enough for him, so he’s very reluctant to wear them anymore.

Tyrande: The sun. Yes, she gets she is a Night Elf, that she praises the Moon Goddess. But the sun is pretty neat. And blinding. That’s even neater. She likes to stare right into it!

Mekkatorque: Pick-up hugs. He’s a Gnome, he is a tiny little delicate flower. But he likes it when you hug him and pick him up, you very tall monster of a person.

Velen: Peeking into the future to see the outcomes of things he is especially curious about despite them being trivial. Such as “When will the new episode of this show come out? Who is going to win this intense Hearthstone duel? What children will Varok Saurfang adopt today?”

Genn: Dog treats. Yes, it was a thing before the Worgen curse.

Aysa: Ji Firepaw. What?

Alleria: She despises the looks people start giving her when she explains what the Void Elves actually are. She loves the looks too.

Turalyon: Being a bit too zealous when it comes to spreading the Naaru’s word.

Jaina: Sea shanties. She cut ties long time ago and archmages don’t sing sea shanties... But she loves to do it anyway. At least she’ll hum.

Thrall: Aggra standing up for him and/or calling him on his depression or self-loathing or martyrdom-tendencies bullshit. It’s super embarrassing... and also super hot.

Spirit of Vol’jin: The “I could kill you if I wanted to” power moves. It’s very hard to chew down that there is someone deadlier than him (or someone deadly to him), but there is also this very nice chill running down his spine when it happens...

Ghost Garrosh: Getting punched. Look, I am not saying that Garrosh “Son of Hellscream” Hellscream is heavily depressed and hates himself, but- No, no. I am actually saying that. Garrosh Hellscream is heavily depressed and he hates himself and he likes it when you beat him unconscious, although he’d rather bite his own tongue out than to admit that.

Baine: Opiates. It’s not a secret, but he feels quite guilty about it. (Children, don’t take an example from Baine. Drugs aren’t cool.)

Sylvanas: Being shown care and affection. Like hell you are going to be nice and caring to the Banshee Queen, the Warchief of the Horde, the woman who plans to conquer the Azeroth for her Forsaken. Hey, hey, who told you to stop?!?! Be nice to her!

Lor'themar: Subtly pitting Rommath, Aethas, and Halduron against each other. Not only it is funny, it’s also sort of procrastination and it slows the income of paperwork. And occasionally one gets to see a display of fireballs.

Gallywix: Any good feelings he gets from non-material sources. The other day Saurfang told him that he is a backstabbing money-hoarding bastard, but he is honest about it and doesn’t claim it to be something redeeming or good, and that he respects him for it a lot. Jastor felt lightheaded for the rest of the day, extremely happy about it witha huge internal crisis as “where did this feeling come from?” crisis.

Ji: When he looks around the other leaders and he can think smugly: “Look at me. I am not an absolute fuck up.” And then immediately “I shouldn’t be thinking this, I should help them to fix their fuckery!”

Thalyssra: Pretty ladies. Pretty ladies with buff arms, undercuts, in flannel shirts... Ah, all those wistful looks she gives them.

Mayla: When small critters (such as squirrels or snakes) climb thorough her horns like tree branches.

Geya’rah: Thinking about Thrall as of her brother. She isn’t sure exactly why she feels guilty about it, but she does.

Talanji: She likes being covered in blood head to toe. The mess on her dress, however, is usually not worth it.

Taedal: Bold of you to assume Taedal feels guilty about his pleasures. This demon knows no shame. You are talking about a man whose throne has a back side full of cheap illustrated erotica novels in plain sight of everybody caring to go around the throne. His My Little Elekk collection figurines are put on a display. Guilty displeasures, now that would be a chapter...

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the-evanescent-inkwell · 5 years ago

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An Abundance of Dragons

Sabra Mendez has always seemed to be a magnet for the strange and unusual in her otherwise ordinary world. Her most frequent guests were dragons. Big dragons, little dragon, red dragons, blue dragons, loud dragons, quiet dragons, rash dragons, and passive dragons. She knew each of the regulars by name, even a set of twin dragons that came in separately once a month. Sabra knew dragons better than she knew herself.

However, the winged European monsters weren't the only thing she managed to attract to her lofty rustic bar.

Ghost and ghouls were also common, stopping by to pick up snippets of conversation at 3:03 a.m. until 4:30 a.m. There were also strange birds, sea monsters, psychics, witches, sorcerers, and talking animals. La Madremonte was a regular, stopping in every few weeks with her sister the Banshee. Traveling demons stopped by and played soft, longing ballads. La Perca del Estornino was always alive and busy with visitors from all over the world. Word had spread since Sabra was a little girl, stuck in her run-down school, helping her father clean the bar before his shift, that she was a friend to them all. Now, it was common knowledge in the hidden community that La Perca del Estornino was a safe place for travelers to stay in the early hours of morning.

Sabra had always been a bit different, growing up in Buenos Aires. It wasn't because she was a little mixed brown girl attending a mostly white school, or because she had splotches of white discoloring on her face, or her poor Italian, or her Mexican accent. It wasn't because of her short, unruly hair, her working-class and unmarried parents, or her worn shoes and hand-me-down backpack. None of that ever bothered Sabra, and no one seemed to care too much where she went to school—up until secondary school, at least. It was more that she could see things no one else noticed. She waved to foggy figures invisible to all but her, left scraps behind her house for the creatures she could hear congregating there, handed people little knick-knacks she had on hand because she could tell they needed them more than she did. Her mother, Jacaranda Rivera, was continually mortified by her behavior, always telling her to shut her mouth and stop wandering off. Her father, Miguel Mendez, saw her differently. He told her she was gifted and should never hide her gifts, using them to help others. He told her that she was what every good barkeeper needed to be; someone who knew people. Since his job when she was little had been working at a bar called La Casa de Mañana, it was no surprise that that was the metaphor he picked. What was a surprised to Sabra was when he died of colorectal cancer that he left his life's work, La Perca del Estornino, to her. Jacaranda told her that she didn't need to take on the responsibility of the bar; she could go to college in America like she wanted, get a degree in art, and paint for the world. But this was more important to Sabra. So she canceled her plans and reopened the bar. It's what her father wanted.

When she was nineteen, after closing time at three, the dragons and ghost started showing up. So she let them in, heard their stories, then let them go. They spread the word, and the next night, more came back. Over the past decade or so, Sabra had changed the closing time three times, finally settling on 7 p.m. to 3 a.m., reopening at 3:03 a.m. for the mythological and supernatural creatures until 4:30 a.m., when she finally went home. It was a good system, and she had very little complaints.

Sabra was very talented and had a lot of strengths, but if she could choose a favorite, it would be her ability to connect with people. She listened to normal and crazy, letting them spill their stories onto her. She knew the regulars, those that came in every now and then when they needed space, and then those that popped in once and never showed up again. She was a friend to everyone, even those who didn't know what friendship was. Over the course of her twenty-eight years of life, Sabra had figuratively adopted thousands of children and given them advice and comfort before sending them on their way. Some she never saw again. Some she saw every night.

The 22nd of March wasn't an unusual day in any way. She still cleaned up and began opening at seven. She still watched the front and made phone calls every now and then. She still created small talk and intervened when she saw it fit, listening to the mix of Italian and Spanish and English, as well as a few other languages thrown in from tourists that decided to stop by.

La Perca del Estornino was located between two small park squares. All the small windows were filled with green leaves. It was approaching autumn, but the trees in this part of town never really grew too brown. The room was dimly lit with gold lights reflecting off brown walls. The bar was exposed wooden oak planks, finished smoothly without taking away the worn aesthetic. The stools were black upholstery, the cushions pinned to the wood with large golden studs. The back brick wall was covered with chalkboards, Sabra's calligraphy listing popular drinks and specials. Shelves framed the boards, filled to the brim with bottles. Small tables were placed around in corners, the floors were smooth and dark, but appeared rugged, and large lamps hung from wires on the ceiling. Sabra always liked the aesthetic of the bar. She approved of her father's interior design choices.

Her last customer of the night was always the same; a regular named Felipe Alonzo. He was an older man with salt and pepper hair who worked at a bank across the street. He was a fairly pleasant man who liked alcohol, but from what Sabra understood, he and his wife fought frequently but wanted to stay together until their kids were out of secondary school. He stayed until closing to avoid another argument.

At 2:56 a.m., Sabra ushered Mr. Alonzo out and began washing dishes. Her two employees, Dante and Cara, hadn't left yet. Dante was about twenty-two and wasn't great with people, so Sabra put him in charge of washing glasses and doing inventory. On the contrary, Cara was a smiley girl of about nineteen with a huge personality. She was a bit clumsy though, so Sabra never let her pour. She was lovely and the customers liked her, so Sabra kept her. But Sabra always kicked them out at three.

"Are you sure you don't need help closing up?" Cara asked politely while Dante immediately left. Cara was pure Italian on all sides of her family and hadn't quite figured out the phonetics of Spanish, but Sabra could pick through her accent when it became to thick.

"I'm perfectly alright. Go home. Make sure you're caught up in school. I don't want to lay you off because you're failing."

"Alright, thank you, Sra. Mendez."

"Drive safe!" she called as Cara disappeared around the bend. The Sabra shut the door and turned the closed sign over. 3:01 a.m.

She quickly swept and picked up the room before hitting the blinds and hiding the interior from bystanders on the street. All ready for 3:03 a.m.

The first visitor was a small purple dragon with a sweater and satchel. "Hello?" he said in English. Sabra smiled warmly at him. "Hello. Welcome. Can I get you anything? Sorry. My English is bad."

"Oh, sorry, um. . ." He ordered a simple drink and Sabra fetched a glass. More visitors flocked in, a majority of them dragons. Her favorite regular showed up around a quarter until four. Roman Xirarch was a young Italian dragon, about the equivalent of a human teenager, who had moved to Rosario from Bologna to study Mesoamerican culture, specifically the arts, abroad. He was a drama major and acted like a stereotypical homosexual. He flew in to chat with Sabra and have a drink at least five times a week. He was small and turquoise, with dark purple spikes, long fangs, and curled horns like a ram. He had a defect in his mouth and constantly had his tongue sticking out a little bit. The other draconic regulars called him the "Mlem Lizard". Roman didn't seem to mind.

He flew through the air vent and landed on the bar, prancing around like a smug house cat. Sabra raised an eyebrow. "Too dramatic to use the door?"

"You know me so well!" he growled happily in his strong accent. "Want to see what I found for my hoard?!"

"I'd love to!"

Dragons were the biggest hoarders of shiny things. Some showed off their collection of metal, gold, and jewels, some hid it, and some just plain collected garbage and didn't care if it was stolen or not. In Roman's case, he had a very small hoard and just liked sharing what he had found with people. He wasn't greedy, and he never stole things, he just liked furnishing his cavern apartment in Rosario with small bits of shiny metal and pesos that fell out of people's pockets.

Roman produced a small shiny crystal from his little red knapsack sitting between his large wings on his back. He dropped it on the table and Sabra carefully picked it up, studying it in the light. "What do you think it is?" he asked excitedly. "Someone dropped it outside the library and didn't go to pick it up, so I assumed it wasn't important. Isn't it pretty?!"

"Lovely," Sabra responded, pulling out her smartphone. "I'll look it up."

After a bit of research, Sabra found out it was some sort of cheap diamond, sort of like fools gold, but she didn't burst Roman's bubble. She put her phone away. "It's a special type of diamond."

"Is it?!" he squealed. "I found a diamond! Mamma is gonna be so proud of me!"

"I'm happy for you," Sabra smiled. "How's school?"

"Good. I had a speaking assessment today, and my instructor said my Spanish is getting better."

"Good!"

A few ghosts came in and congregating in a corner, whispering and laughing together. At 4:15 a.m., the crowds were mostly clearing up. Roman had fallen asleep on a stool and was whisking his spiked tail back and forth. At exactly 4:21 a.m., a man wearing a wide-brimmed hat, leather jacket, and a thick belt walked in. He looked like an American cowboy. There weren't a lot of those in these parts. Sabra pursed her lips together. He sat down at the bar and asked, "Sabra Mendez?"

"Yes, sir. How can I help you?" She spoke in English, assuming from his accent that he was American. He smiled at her in amusement and asked in perfect Spanish for a round of shots. Sabra politely fulfilled his order, then made small talk. "Are you from these parts?"

"Just passing through. I'm an archeologist."

That would explain the hat and jacket. What she had likened to a cowboy easily passed for Indiana Jones. "Interesting. I wish you luck. I'll be right over there if you need anything."

She headed over to finish cleaning a stack of shallow dishes the birds had been using to peck nacho crumbs out of. Roman had woken up and was studying the archeologist. "Who is he?"

"I don't know," Sabra admitted. "I haven't seen him before. He said he's an archeologist."

"He doesn't seem alarmed by the ghosts or dragons."

True to Roman's word, a pink dwarf dragon crawled out of the archeologist's pocket and started purring when he scratched her chin. Sabra shrugged. Roman shrugged back.

At 4:29 a.m., Sabra approached the man and said, "I'm sorry, but we're closing."

He nodded and finished his drink, the pink dragon disappearing into his pocket again. He leafed through his wallet and left a ball of notes on the bar before leaving. Roman crawled along the counter and squawked at the top of his little lungs, "Alright, it's closing time! Get out and go pester someone else! Sabra needs her beauty sleep."

"What makes you think I don't already have it?" she teased him, but she didn't interfere as he scared the others out. She was picking up the tips while Roman cleared out her bar and noticed there was something wrapped in the notes left by the archeologist. She unrolled it and found a small golden nugget. She frowned and studied it. Roman saw and cooed over it. "Oooh! Can I have?"

"No," she said. "Odd tip to leave. . . Get home. You have class tomorrow."

He groaned. "But Sabra!"

"Off you go!"

He finally took off, leaving through the air vent again. Sabra closed up and wrapped the golden nugget in a napkin, sticking it in her pocket and calling an Uber. She was deposited on her property and headed in, flipping her keys over her fingers. The faintest scent of salt and humidity hung in the air. She walked up the steps while people started waking up and getting ready for a long day ahead of them. Lucky for Sabra, her little studio apartment was still quiet. She walked into a dark room and was careful not to slam the door. Streetlights darted past the window, the dark blue curtains pulled down and billowing softly in the circulation. She almost tripped over a pair of sneakers and kicked them aside, taking off her own shoes and dropping her bag by the door. The white curtain separating the majority of the room from the "bedroom" swayed softly as she entered. The radiator was clicking loudly. Right, I need to fix that. The bedroom door was closed. Sabra popped in and found Ben fast asleep. She kissed his forehead and he stirred, mumbling hello. "Go back to sleep," she said before leaving the room and heading behind the curtain. As she opened the dresser and began throwing her clothes into the laundry hamper, the lump of blankets on the right side of the bed rustled loudly. Sabra unclipped her bra and pulled on a baggy hoody and a pair of cotton shorts before climbing into the bed. A small head emerged from the blankets and stared at Sabra sleepily. She kissed the dark head gently before cuddling the figure. "Night, cariña."

Mack sighed contently and curled up, mumbling, "I love you," in about three languages before settling on Italian. Sabra tucked her chin over the raven hair and closed her eyes, listening to her spouse's ragged breath. The radiator slowly died away, leaving peaceful quiet, the waves crashing against the shore a few blocks away and the wind whistling past the ajar window. Comforted by the warmth of the cozy apartment, Sabra slowly sunk into sleep.

Read more of An Abundance of Dragons on Wattpad! Click the link!

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newsnigeria · 5 years ago

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Why France is hiding a cheap and tested virus cure

By Pepe Escobar – Posted with permission The French government is arguably helping Big Pharma profit from the Covid-19 pandemic What’s going on in the fifth largest economy in the world arguably points to a major collusion scandal in which the French government is helping Big Pharma to profit from the expansion of Covid-19. Informed French citizens are absolutely furious about it. My initial question to a serious, unimpeachable Paris source, jurist Valerie Bugault, was about the liaisons dangereuses between Macronism and Big Pharma and especially about the mysterious “disappearance” – more likely outright theft – of all the stocks of chloroquine in possession of the French government. Respected Professor Christian Perronne talked about the theft live in one of France’s 24/7 info channels: “The central pharmacy for the hospitals announced today that they were facing a total rupture of stocks, that they were pillaged.” With input from another, anonymous source, it’s now possible to establish a timeline that puts in much-needed perspective the recent actions of the French government.Let’s start with Yves Levy, who was the head of INSERM – the French National Institute of Health and Medical Research – from 2014 to 2018, when he was appointed as extraordinary state councilor for the Macron administration. Only 12 people in France have reached this status. Levy is married to Agnes Buzy, who until recently was minister of health under Macron. Buzy was essentially presented with an “offer you can’t refuse” by Macron’s party to leave the ministry – in the middle of the coronavirus crisis – and run for Mayor of Paris, where she was mercilessly trounced in the first round on March 16. Levy has a vicious running feud with Professor Didier Raoult – prolific and often-cited Marseille-based specialist in communicable diseases. Levy withheld the INSERM label from the world-renowned IHU (Hospital-University Institute) research center directed by Raoult. In practice, in October 2019, Levy revoked the status of “foundation” of the different IHUs so he could take over their research.

A picture taken on February 26, 2020 shows French professor Didier Raoult, biologist and professor of microbiology, specialized in infectious diseases and director of IHU Mediterranee Infection Institute posing in his office in Marseille, southeastern France. - Raoult reported this week that after treating 24 patients for six days with Plaquenil, the virus had disappeared in all but a quarter of them. The research has not yet been peer reviewed or published, and Raoult had come under fire by some scientists and officials in his native France for potentially raising false hopes. (Photo by GERARD JULIEN / AFP) French professor Didier Raoult, biologist and professor of microbiology, specializes in infectious diseases and director of IHU Mediterranee Infection Institute, poses in his office in Marseille, France. Photo: AFP/Gerard Julien Raoult was part of a clinical trial that in which hydroxychloroquine and azithromycin healed 90% of Covid-19 cases if they were tested very early. (Early, massive testing is at the heart of the successful South Korean strategy.) Raoult is opposed to the total lockdown of sane individuals and possible carriers – which he considers “medieval,” in an anachronistic sense. He’s in favor of massive testing (which, besides South Korea, was successful in Singapore, Taiwan and Vietnam) and a fast treatment with hydroxychloroquine. Only contaminated individuals should be confined. Chloroquine costs one euro for ten pills. And there’s the rub: Big Pharma – which, crucially, finances INSERM, and includes “national champion” Sanofi – would rather go for a way more profitable solution. Sanofi for the moment says it is “actively preparing” to produce chloroquine, but that may take “weeks,” and there’s no mention about pricing. A minister fleeing a tsunami Here’s the timeline: On January 13, Agnes Buzyn, still France’s Health Minister, classifies chloroquine as a “poisonous substance,” from now on only available by prescription. An astonishing move, considering that it has been sold off the shelf in France for half a century. On March 16, the Macron government orders a partial lockdown. There’s not a peep about chloroquine. Police initially are not required to wear masks; most have been stolen anyway, and there are not enough masks even for health workers. In 2011 France had nearly 1.5 billion masks: 800 million surgical masks and 600 million masks for health professionals generally. But then, over the years, the strategic stocks were not renewed, to please the EU and to apply the Maastricht criteria, which limited membership in the Growth and Stability Pact to countries whose budget deficits did not exceed 3% of GDP. One of those in charge at the time was Jerome Salomon, now a scientific counselor to the Macron government. On March 17, Agnes Buzyn says she has learned the spread of Covid-19 will be a major tsunami, for which the French health system has no solution. She also says it had been her understanding that the Paris mayoral election “would not take place” and that it was, ultimately, “a masquerade.” What she does not say is that she didn’t go public at the time she was running because the whole political focus by the Macron political machine was on winning the “masquerade.” The first round of the election meant nothing, as Covid-19 was advancing. The second round was postponed indefinitely. She had to know about the impending healthcare disaster. But as a candidate of the Macron machine she did not go public in timely fashion. In quick succession: The Macron government refuses to apply mass testing, as practiced with success in South Korea and Germany. Le Monde and the French state health agency characterize Raoult’s research as fake news, before issuing a retraction. Professor Perrone reveals on the 24/7 LCI news channel that the stock of chloroquine at the French central pharmacy has been stolen. Thanks to a tweet by Elon Musk, President Trump says chloroquine should be available to all Americans. Sufferers of lupus and rheumatoid arthritis, who already have supply problems with the only drug that offers them relief, set social media afire with their panic. US doctors and other medical professionals take to hoarding the medicine for the use of themselves and those close to them, faking prescriptions to indicate they are for patients with lupus or rheumatoid arthritis. Morocco buys the stock of chloroquine from Sanofi in Casablanca. Pakistan decides to increase its production of chloroquine to be sent to China. Switzerland discards the total lockdown of its population; goes for mass testing and fast treatment; and accuses France of practicing “spectacle politics.” Christian Estrosi, the mayor of Nice, having had himself treated with chloroquine, without any government input, directly calls Sanofi so they may deliver chloroquine to Nice hospitals. Because of Raoult’s research, a large-scale chloroquine test finally starts in France, under the – predictable – direction of INSERM, which wants to “remake the experiments in other independent medical centers.” This will take at least an extra six weeks – as the Elysee Palace’s scientific council now mulls the extension of France’s total lockdown to … six weeks. If joint use of hydroxychloroquine and azithromycin proves definitely effective among the most gravely ill, quarantines may be reduced in select clusters. The only French company that still manufactures chloroquine is under judicial intervention. That puts the chloroquine hoarding and theft into full perspective. It will take time for these stocks to be replenished, thus allowing Big Pharma the leeway to have what it wants: a costly solution. It appears the perpetrators of the chloroquine theft were very well informed. Bagged nurses This chain of events, astonishing for a highly developed G-7 nation proud of its health service, is part of a long, painful process embedded in neoliberal dogma. EU-driven austerity mixed with the profit motive resulted in a very lax attitude towards the health system. As Bugault told me, “test kits – very few in number – were always available but mostly for a small group connected to the French government . Same for chloroquine, which this government did everything to make inaccessible for the population. They did not make life easy for Professor Raoult – he received death threats and was intimidated by ‘journalists.’ And they did not protect vital stocks. Still under the Hollande government, there was a conscious liquidation of the stock of masks – which had existed in large quantities in all hospitals. Not to mention that the suppression of hospital beds and hospital means accelerated under Sarkozy.” This ties in with anguished reports by French citizens of nurses now having to use trash bags due to the lack of proper medical gear. At the same time, in another astonishing development, the French state refuses to requisition private hospitals and clinics – which are practically empty at this stage – even as the president of their own association, Lamine Garbi, has pleaded for such a public service initiative: “I solemnly demand that we are requisitioned to help public hospitals. Our facilities are prepared. The wave that surprised the east of France must teach us a lesson.” Bugault reconfirms the health situation in France “is very serious and will become even worse due to these political decisions – absence of masks, political refusal to massively test people, refusal of free access to chloroquine – in a context of supreme distress at the hospitals. This will last and destitution will be the norm.” Professor vs president In an explosive development on Tuesday, Raoult said he’s not participating in Macron’s scientific council anymore, even though he’s not quitting it altogether. Raoult once again insists on massive testing on a national scale to detect suspected cases, and then isolate and treat patients who tested positive. In a nutshell: the South Korean model. That’s exactly what is expected from the IHU in Marseille, where hundreds of residents continue to queue up for testing. And that ties in with the conclusions by a top Chinese expert on Covid-19, Zhang Nanshan, who says that treatment with chloroquine phospate had a “positive impact,” with patients testing negative after around four days. The key point has been stressed by Raoult: Use chloroquine in very special circumstances, for people tested very early, when the disease is not advanced yet, and only in these cases. He’s not advocating chloroquine for everyone. It’s exactly what the Chinese did, along with their use of Interferon. For years, Raoult has been pleading for a drastic revision of health economic models, so the treatments, cure and therapies created mostly during the 20th century, are considered a patrimony in the service of all humanity.“That’s not the case”, he says, “because we abandon medicine that is not profitable, even if it’s effective. That’s why almost no antibiotics are manufactured in the West.” On Tuesday, the French Health Ministry officially prohibited the utilization of treatment based on chloroquine recommended by Raoult. In fact the treatment is only allowed for terminal Covid-19 patients, with no other possibility of healing. This cannot but expose the Macron government to more accusations of at least inefficiency – added to the absence of masks, tests, contact tracing and ventilators. On Wednesday, commenting on the new government guidelines, Raoult said, “When damage to the lungs is too important, and patients arrive for reanimation, they practically do not harbor viruses in their bodies any more. It’s too late to treat them with chloroquine. Are these the only cases – the very serious cases – that will be treated with chloroquine under the new directive by Veran?” If so, he added ironically, “then they will be able to say with scientific certainty that chloroquine does not work.” Raoult was unavailable for comment on Western news media articles citing Chinese test results that would suggest he is wrong about the efficacy of chloroquine in dealing with mild cases of Covid-19. Staffers pointed instead to his comments in the IHU bulletin. There Raoult says it’s “insulting” to ask if we can trust the Chinese on the use of chloroquine. “If this was an American disease, and the president of the United States said, ‘We need to treat patients with that,’ nobody would discuss it.” In China, he adds, there were “enough elements so the Chinese government and all Chinese experts who know coronaviruses took an official position that ‘we must treat with chloroquine.’ Between the moment when we have the first results and an accepted international publication, there is no credible alternative among people who are the most knowledgeable in the world. They took this measure in the interest of public health.” Crucially: if he had coronavirus, Raoult says he would take chloroquine. Since Raoult is rated by his peers as the number one world expert in communicable diseases, way above Dr. Anthony Fauci in the US, I would say the new reports represent Big Pharma talking. Raoult has been mercilessly savaged and demonized by French corporate media that are controlled by a few oligarchs closely linked to Macronism. Not by accident the demonization has reached gilets jaunes (yellow vest) levels, especially because of the extremely popular hashtag #IlsSavaient (“They knew”), with which the yellow vests stress that French elites have “managed” the Covid-19 crisis by protecting themselves while leaving the population defenseless against the virus. That ties in with the controversial analysis by crack philosopher Giorgio Agamben in a column published a month ago, where he was already arguing that Covid-19 clearly shows that the state of exception – similar to a state of emergency but with differences important to philosophers – has become fully normalized in the West. Agamben was speaking not as a doctor or a virologist but as a master thinker, following in the steps of Foucault, Walter Benjamin and Hannah Arendt. Noting how a latent state of fear has metastasized into a state of collective panic, for which Covid-19 “offers once again the ideal pretext,” he described how, “in a perverse vicious circle, the limitation of freedom imposed by governments is accepted in the name of a desire for security that was induced by the same governments that now intervene to satisfy it.” There was no state of collective panic in South Korea, Singapore, Taiwan and Vietnam – to mention four Asian examples outside of China. A dogged combination of mass testing and contact tracing was applied with immense professionalism. It worked. In the Chinese case, with the help of chloroquine. And in all Asian cases, without a murky profit motive to the benefit of Big Pharma. There hasn’t yet appeared the smoking gun that proves the Macron system not only is incompetent to deal with Covid-19 but also is dragging the process so Big Pharma can come up with a miracle vaccine, fast. But the pattern to discourage chloroquine is more than laid out above – in parallel to the demonization of Raoult. Read the full article

#Coronavirus #France

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heyligaya · 5 years ago

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MY KOREA 2019 ITINERARY

Okay. I decided to make (write) this guide that might help someone out there planning to go to Korea. I'm going to make this guide the one I wished I read when I was fixing our itinerary so let’s go to what needs to be done after booking your ticket.

Honestly, it’s just simple guideline any traveler I think already knows but just in case.

Check the weather. I am a freak when it comes to packing. There is no such thing as PACK LIGHT. Homegurl needs options okay?? So I always check if what I'm going to bring will fit the current weather. Ask yourself, “do I need extra baggage allowance?” If personal baggage isn’t enough am I right? Haha.. hahaaa...haaa. But do consider this once you booked your flight. In my case, I added baggage allowance AFTER we booked the ticket since I figured “teka, pasalubongs will be extraaaa on this trip so better come prepared”

RESEARCH. Yeah yeah I know it can be a burden making those itineraries but honey, if you can stalk your ex-boyfriend for a week, you can search some good activities to do on your trip too! So get your stalking skills in work! In my case, my priority was PROXIMITY and BUDGET but will discuss that later. Make sure to change your peso bills to dolla dolla bills yo! It’s better to change the currency in Incheon Airport from dollar to Won than in any place outside the airport so better get those dollars before your flight.

Keep at least ₱2000 with you on your departure day. Why you ask? Two words. TRAVEL TAX. I learned this the hard way. I thought all was paid upon booking the ticket but Cebu Pac be like “Sis no! Better get that money for this countryyy” so yeah. You can actually pay Travel Tax upon booking but I didn’t know that. ₱1640 per person for travel tax. SHAKS ANG MAHAL DIBA? But it’s mandatory so...

Bring your own light snacks. My family ain’t playin. Once the plane took off, they started grabbing their hopia, crackers, and chips and people hear them crunch through and I'm so proud! Not paying 150 for a cheese cupcake okay? No. So bring your own.

If you’re planning to go to Korea, here are a few of my recommendations to purchase:

KLOOK Nami Island + Le Petit France. = It costs (₱1689 per pax) and it’s actually quite sulit for the whole experience.

KLOOK Discovery Pass = This is probably one of the most worth it purchase we had. 35 sightseeing privileges for free for only ₱2222 per person! COME ON! I actually calculated the number of entrance fees of the places we want to go to versus the amount of DP and yup! I definitely saved A LOT from that.

KLOOK UNLIMITED WIFI = Okay! I mean there were a lot of 4G internet that you can purchase here in PH already but with my pro-research skills, I found out that you can actually rent wifi that you can redeem in Incheon Airport upon arrival.(₱575 for 5 days) I purchased the 5-day free wifi. Para connected tayo diba?

If you are going to purchase, make sure to take note what terminal in Incheon you will depart since there are several choices where you can pick them up. Also, align your time of departure. Not all kiosks are 24hrs so if you’ll arrive beyond 9pm, choose the kiosk that has 24hrs running time for you to claim your rentals and passes.

If you booked your ticket with a late arrival LIKE ME (10:25pm but settled all the claims and reloads of T-Money at around 1:00am), your only choice is the NIGHT BUS. (see pic below for the airport bus schedules)

If however, you have a normal time of booking which reaches within the time where AREX is still going then I HIGHLY recommend using the AREX for ₩9000.

We took the N6001 bus which will drop us at Seoul Station.

Let us start.

So my itinerary wasn’t your typical one. I had the places as my priority so when I made this one, I made sure that I can utilize the location as much as possible. I researched all the places I can visit near

Myeongdong

Insadong

Ewha Woman’s University

Okay. So It might sound boring when I only mentioned three BUT do imply that these 3 have an abundance of tourists spots where either I can just walk or a 9min subway ride.

OUR LOCATION: We rented an Airbnb in Jungnim-ro.

(https://www.airbnb.com/users/show/214545347)

That is literally 7 mins away from Seoul Station subway which was HIGHLY convenient for us since we used the subway. ONLY subway (psh if I’ll rant about how many time I’ve been conned in my first time in KR, it’s gonna be to long) so I’ll attach my host’s details and if you want to rent her place WHICH IS SUPER DUPER NEAT BTW and we’re located near police station so the place is 100% safe so if you want to rent, you may do so. And one more thing, they have a youtube directional instruction on how you’ll be able to go to the main building of the house. LUV THAT! <3

PS: My Itinerary is made for my mum and aunt where they can explore but also minimize the stress of walking coz they’re old but STILL I made sure to expand the place I can explore as much as I can.

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Day 1.

Namsan Tower/Myeongdong

Disclaimer: Don’t judge! I know we only went to two destinations for Day 1 but I consider the fact that I'm with my mum who’s a senior citizen and we haven’t slept yet 😳 so I decided to shorten our destinations to visit for Day 1 so she can rest in the afternoon

Discover Pass can be used as T-Money (like beep card here in PH) so I suggest to load at least ₩30,000 for subway purposes.

Subway ride costs ₩1,2000 FIXED.

N SEOUOL TOWER

NAMSAN PARK

LOVE LOCK LANE

MYEONGDONG

Namsan Cable Car opens at 10:30. I specifically picked the daytime tour since Im with my mum and aunt and the would pretty much appreciate pictures in light BUT I highly suggest visiting Namsan Tower at night. The City lights is AMAZING.

Namsan Entrance fee is around ₩3000. You can choose if you want the one-way ride or the round trip. CAREFUL! The payment for the Cable car is different from the Namsan Tower Entrance. We have to pay for the cable car but have the Entrance fee for free in Namsan tower because of the Discover Pass (YASSSSSS)

You’ll find Love Lock Lane amazing scenery! If you get hungry, you can take the roundtrip cable car and just go back to Myeongdong and explore all the food!

PS : Okay, Korea has a few restaurants that offer “solo” on their menu. It’s always, MINIMUM of two orders. Doesn’t matter how many you guys are, the menu will always be a minimum of two. Example: Samgyupsal is around ₩23,000 so multiply by two, that’s ₩46,000 but I guarantee that it will feed 4 people. If you’re with more than four people who will accompany you, make sure to bring enough money for food. BECAUSE IT’S SOOOOOOOOO FLIPPIN’ GOOD!!

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Day 2

LE PETIT FRANCE + NAMI ISLAND

DONGDAEMUN

Le Petit France + Nami Island will take your WHOLE day. We departed at around 9am at the meeting place (Myeondong Station Exit 3) which is just where we dropped off for Namsan Tower and got back at around 5pm in the afternoon.

Nami is known for their DAKGALBI which is grilled chicken or Spicy chicken. Again, a minimum of two orders. There’s this place where we ate Dakgalbi two years ago and luckily, it’s still there when we visited and decided to eat there. I don’t remember the place BUT It’s in front of the Bus Parking space. It’s the only one there so I definitely suggest that place. Try their Buckwheat cold noodles too. IT’S THE BEST!

Dongdaemun for me was THE. BEST. ONE. YET!

So upon departure, the tour bus will give you instructions on where you can drop off. We had our meet up at Myeongdong and just our luck, the tour guide informed us that Dongdaemun station will be one of the drop off stations for those who want to explore the place WHICH WE DID. The drop off area was just at the gate of Dongdaemun so there’s not much walking needed. One thing you need to know is that it’s a very tricky place. It’s like a maze. A lot going up (not stairs) but the place was worth it. We went just before sunset but didn’t manage to experience the place at night. So I suggest you visit Dongdaemun at night too because the whole place is lit with lights and you’ll probably appreciate the structure more.

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DAY 3

GYEOUNGBUKGONG PALACE

NATIONAL FOLK MUSEUM OF KOREA

INSADONG

MYEONGDONG

I originally planned the Palace tour for 2 Palace visit BUT I underestimated Gyeoungbukgong palace. THAT PLACE IS TOO BIG for a day visit. I was telling myself there is NO way a Prince or Emperor could finish morning walk AROUND that palace coz it’s so big! So we only managed to visit Gyeoungbukgong Palace.

TRIVIA : It’s the biggest palace in the country AND many K-drama set place in G.Palace. An example would be Goblin.

National Folk Museum was actually INSIDE/BESIDE G.Palace and it’s free! We went there knowing they have CHAIRS coz our feet went bonkers after all that walking around the palace but we never knew how beautiful the museum was inside! All the history and ornaments and even old traditions were there.

INSADONG was probably one of my most awaited place to visit. Two years ago, Insadong was our last destination so we kinda rushed our visit here so this year I decided to take my time and really enjoy the place (so I didn’t really have that many pictures). Insadong is just a WALK away from G.Palace so it was pretty convenient. Insadong was a place for souvenir shopping. Literally, ALL kinds of stuff and magnets are there at such cheap prices. My mum hoarded A LOT of ‘em. Also, Insadong is where some of their traditional dishes are sold. I tried a honey thread-like candy (am so sorry I can’t remember the name of the stall) which for me was the highlight of my visit there. They have a public show of how they make these candies and also they know how to speak Filipino which is super cool. So if you’re going to buy souvenirs, I recommend Insadong. There’s a subway station direct to Insadong BUT it’s Jongno Station.

MYEONGDONG

This is probably the most mainstream place for tourists but I DO LOVE ME SOME GOOD FOOD. Cheap skin care products and awesome food!

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LAST DAY

We kinda rushed this day since our flight is scheduled that night but managed to still go ONE. MY. MOST. FAVORITE. PLACE.

EHWA WOMEN’S UNIVERSITY

I'm a sucker for good architecture and this place is mindblowing. Instagramable! Snapchat worthy! Photo walk legend!

The good thing about EHWA is they have a subway station for it. Literally EHWA University Station and just outside the station exit are stores filled with coffee shops and boutiques and my favorite, ARTBOX which is a store of tumblers and iphone cases and cute college bags and pens and notebooks and my heart JUSSSSST mmf! Paris Baguette is a very well known bakery in Korea and we just happened to pass by one at EHWA since we haven’t had any breakfast or lunch yet and let me tell you, BAKERIES IN KOREA ARE LEGIT. BEST ONES! Coffee in EHWA is different in Myeongdong. It’s like specially catered for students. It’s so goooood! Goblin also had kdrama shoots in EHWA so I was a little excited to see some of their buildings.

PS: EHWA doesn’t have entrance fee BUT you can only take pictures at the famous stairs but you can’t go further inside unless you’re a student.

AND THAT WAS THAT.

For our departure, we used the free ride of AREX that comes with Discover Pass. Price of AREX was mention earlier. It’s a 30 min. ride so you have to make sure you have enough time before your flight. ALWAYS BE IN ADVANCE.

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HERE ARE SOME OF MY TIPS:

Upload these apps! It’s definitely A MUST! This 3 apps made my life easier as a first-time subway user.

SUBWAY app helps you with the subway stations. It look intimidating at first because of the loops and colors but I tell you, it’s really easy! Im bad with directions and I understood the subway stations so much faster because of this.

KOREA TRANSIT GUIDE will help you with transfers and time. Your destinations may have a direct subway station but doesn’t mean you are connected to just one line. It’s like here in PH, there are instances where you need to transfer from LRT to MRT to get to your destination. It’s the same with Korea Subway BUT what’s good in Korea Subway is that transfers are all in one place. If you are going to transfer stations, there’s directions and instructional signs right when you drop off to point you to where you’re going. It’s so easy! Then you can use SUBWAY app to check the color of the subway transfer. As you can see, there are several color codes on each Subway lines. This app will also give you what BUS number you can take or if it’s possible to walk instead.

I posted a picture where you can see color codes in subway suggestions. Seoul Station (blue) to City Hall (green) then you can check in SUBWAY app the color code if it’s correct and to familiarize you with the station names you’ll encounter.

DISCOVERY PASS app IS A MUST if you’re going to avail one. You need to register your app so you can check the remaining balance of your Discovery Pass. You can also use it as T-Money for subways. I loaded ₩30,000 and I used it fully.

Bring good walking slippers (depending on what season you’ll go). Comfortable shoes goes a looong way but it’s good to have spare walking slippers just in case

Buy 110 plugs here in PH. Sockets in Korea is different so be prepared to have at least 2 or 3 for your chargers.

Bring clear packaging tapes. If you’re going to buy liquid skin care, make sure to put a seal because you don’t want your expensive skin care bottles to explode inside your luggage so better be ready that regret after.

POWERBANK POWERBANK POWERBANK. Never forget!

Korea is filled with PUBLIC wifi. So if you’re lost and didn’t avail the pocket WIFI they have at Klook, you can just go to a near coffee shop and have their free wifi just outside.

FOOD IS A MUST. I know you have your skin care list ready but don’t be thrifty when it comes to their good food. COZ IT’S GOOD! TOO GOOD!

Bring your own towel. We are used to big towels. Towels that can cover and dry your body. However, in Korea, they prefer a smaller towel. Like…..bimpo type of towel. It takes us 5 towels just to dry us up. They do give an abundance of small towels but come on! I need to be dried up in one swoop okay? So just bring your own.

AND THAT’S THAT! Hope this LOOOONG itinerary helps people one way or another.

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youmightaswell · 6 years ago

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Jerks and Caicos: Putting the ‘Eye’ in Island

If you may recall, I recently reunited with a quirky ex-boyfriend who I dated back in ‘95 when I was 25 and he was 40. We dated on and off for nearly 10 years and then later, when I got married, he abruptly stopped speaking with me even though we had been strictly platonic friends for years.

Recently, after not speaking for 15 years we reconnected because his mom died and he reached out to alert me. He was apparently feeling nostalgic.

We decided we’d go on vacation together as friends to Club Med in Turks and Caicos because we had gone back in ‘98 when we were hot and heavy and had such a great time. Let’s just say the trip was eventful and full of hiccups, or eye rolls, if you will.

Aside from the Seinfeldian hilarity that ensued when I battled against my version of the “white whale” that I recently recounted in this essay “The Old Man and the Sea Cabana...” something far earthshattering -- or shall I say eyeshattering?-- happened.

***

On my only recent visit to this ex’s house I was panicked because of the immense clutter and collection of meaningless things he has begun keeping -- like his huge jar of dirty rubber bands (because his dad owned them), huge other jar of keys that open nothing, and shelves of bandages. Foam and wood chips were in every crevice, because he fashions himself an artist and might want to make a collage. Not an inch of wall space exists and lest you think it is covered with pricey or aesthetically pleasing art, instead random tickets are affixed with scotch tape and other meaningless papers best left in a trash pile are prominently displayed. Stacks upon stacks of things are everywhere. There is a child’s small desk blocking a window, his couch is on risers to fit more stuff beneath, as is his bed, and he has stuff in his linen closet – empty bottles – I left back in 2003 when I was there last.

But, hey, he seems to have some fear of loss and unresolved grief, so live and let live.

Quirky, for sure, but he has great qualities as well: he is very creative, successful and has an extremely dry wit.

Right before I left his apartment, though, I noticed he had a display of near-empty cologne and perfume bottles at his entrance and I asked about them. None were visually pretty or anything one should want to display. I wondered about their significance. As I was questioning him he grabbed a spray bottle and said it was face mist and went to spray me in the face. I balked, realizing it wasn’t the face spray he thought it was, but rather a hair product. Thankfully I avoided the mist, he looked closer and realized his mistake, apologized and I left to catch a cab without further incident.

But remember this because it’s what we in the writing biz call “foreshadowing.”

***

On the morning of our trip I met my ex at the airport with near-perfect timing. We walked through security together even though he whined about having TSA Global Entry and being annoyed at using the “regular” line. We whizzed through and sat at the gate. I noticed he had a lot of bags. Like bags in bags. Seriously I counted seven bags inside his bag. Now I knew his check-in suitcase had a miniature guitar (more on that in a later essay), fins (again, more on that in a later essay) even though the hotel provides full snorkel equipment and other unnecessary items. Because I know my ex also has seven rugs piled on top of each other in his home and keeps ordering more on Amazon, I assumed this was just another hoarding tendency.

I asked him what he had in one of his multiple fanny packs and he quickly pulled out a bottle and said, “Face spray” and before I could stop him – I screamed a slow mo “Stoppppppp!!!!!” – I felt burning pain in both of my eyes. I grabbed the offensive bottle and even with tears pouring out of my eyes I noticed it did NOT say, “Soothing face mist” like he thought and instead emblazoned on the label was, “Drybar Mai Tai Spritzer Sea Salt Spray”. Yup, the idiot had just sprayed me straight in the eyes with ‘beach hair, don’t care’ salt spray. It was then my sight went on vacation without me. Because we were about ready to board I could only pull out the contacts quickly and give them a good rinse before getting on the plane. I did not have my glasses so I was forced to sit for the three and a half hour flight with sticky contacts and only a less-than-three oz bottle of saline.

After we landed, got our luggage and boarded the shuttle to our hotel, we had to further wait for our luggage to be deposited outside our room, which wasn’t ready. We were encouraged to grab a bite to eat before the dining area closed for the afternoon.

Finally, after hours of irritated eyes, I was able to take out my contacts and put on my glasses.

Not the greatest start to a tropical trip. I hated going to dinner in my thick glasses and knew that trying to sit in the sun sans sunglasses and going into the water without contacts was a no-go.

The next morning I awoke around 5am with my eyes sealed shut, crusty, and in pain. Without waking my oblivious ex, I threw on some clothes, crusty eyes, messy hair and still sleepy, and went to the reception desk in the hopes there was a resort doctor on call. Unlucky for me it was a Saturday and the nurse would not be in until 9am. A quick Google search showed me there was an Urgent Care with an eye clinic open on Saturdays from 9am-1pm so I arranged to get transportation there. The hotel nurse came an hour early and checked me at 8am. She did an extended eye rinse and then the hotel transported me along with one of their sick young staff members to their urgent care facility.

It was a bit scary driving into the innards of Turks and Caicos barely being able to see, with an uncommunicative cab driver and a gorgeous young 22-year old year resort worker who didn’t speak much English. Would we be trafficked? Surely I’m too old to be trafficked, right?

We were cruising further and further from the busy tourist areas and all I could wonder was if I was about begin what would be an international version of Dateline, wearing nothing but a bikini, flip flops and a t-shirt that now ironically said “PARADISE” on the front.

It was a fairly long ride and I had no idea how to call a cab to return. More so, I was nervous I’d spend hours of my trip waiting in a crowded emergency room and have the first full day of my trip ruined.

Much to my chagrin I saw as I neared the facility, it was packed with sick people. I entered, the only tourist among them, and my ears were assaulted with the screams of many sick babies.

Thankfully the hotel had apparently notified them about me, and I was seen instantly, while the native onlookers stared at me with disdain. I felt awful that I was being greeted like a celeb, waved right through, while others, far sicker than I were kept waiting. But not so bad that I turned down my place at the front of the line.

The ophthalmologist was amazingly nice and efficient and the place was equipped with all the latest in optical technology. He did a comprehensive eye exam and saw both eyes were infected and the left had a corneal abrasion. He confiscated the hair spritz and told me, “Your partner is an idiot.”

Within 20 minutes I was leaving with antibiotics, steroids and sterile eye drops. Efficient, effective and cheap! The whole thing in an ER setting only came to $150 - even without any insurance.

Even the pharmacy bags were adorbs:

We told the front desk of the medical facility to call us a cab to return to our hotel but island time is indeed a thing. The receptionist relayed that t would “be there in 10 minutes” three times before I flagged down a random cab and asked if he could take me. Sketchy as fuck he cited a price nearly double what we paid so I declined. What to do? How safe would trying to hitchhike in Turks be?

Finally the medical facility called again and said they had forgotten to send our ride but the owner was coming himself from the airport to drive us. Another 30 minutes went by and we were finally headed back. On the way, the driver took a turn down a scary dirt road and stopped in front of a shack. Always ready to stay sexy and not get murdered I wished the doctor had not confiscated the offending eye spray because at least I could use it as a weapon if need be. Thankfully the cabbie was only picking up his daughter and we were on our way again shortly.

***

I was at the beach by 10:30am, bikini clad and annoyed I was in glasses. I had not told my ex my plans and just thought it better to handle it myself. I didn’t want any drama, am an adult who had traveled alone extensively and didn’t want to get into any argument or discussion with him. I knew he hadn’t done it on purpose but that it was representative of his behavior years ago when we were dating – which ultimately lead to our romantic demise. Even though so much older, I found him then (and now) lacking in any sort of impulse control and he clearly lacked respect for others around him, particularly younger women.

I know “Elliott Spritzer” felt bad and so I chose to not ruin my trip any further so simply went to the beach to resume my vacation. I told him briefly what happened, that I handled it and he would be expected to pay for any medical bills and related transport. Beyond that I accepted his apology and wanted to move on. He offered to pay for my full $3K portion of the trip, but while I would have liked that, I didn’t allow him to because I knew it would allow him to think what he did was ok. He did pay for my massage and the additional lobster fees nightly so we could have reserved seating for the rest of our stay.

I felt good about my reaction to this blip. In the distant past I would have been super dramatic, the whole trip would have been horrible and I would have cried and felt miserable. I was very proud of myself staying calm, being mature and handling a messy situation quickly and efficiently without any undue drama. I realize I can’t control my ex’s idiotic actions, but I could control my responses to them and anyone else’s.

***

Sun and corneal abrasions don’t mix, just like oil, water and human eyes, so I had to sit most of the trip in the shade and not swim which was a bummer. Still, I ended up having a pretty great trip, thankful for the sun, sea and sand -- and having it for the most part stay out of my inner eye.

***

Years ago I often wondered how my life would have been different if I had ended up marrying my ex. I often mentally lamented the end of our long relationship. However, while this trip almost blinded me, it also provide clarity. It made me see very clearly that even though I was doubtful, I actually made the right life choices.

***

Ever the jokester -- and by jokester I mean asshole -- my ex send me this upon our return: https://www.amazon.com/DRYBAR-Mai-Spritzer-Salt-Spray/dp/B00LX54J1M

***

Hopefully next vacation I can keep the “sight” in sightseeing. :-/

0 notes

maddiebiscuits · 8 years ago

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Maddie’s Big Gigantic Breath of the Wild Write-Up Where I Talk About Things I Like and Things I Didn’t Like

And regrettably, there are many things I did not like. But that doesn’t make this any less of a fantastic game that I enjoyed - I just wanted to put all my thoughts down in one spot. And yes, there’s spoilers.

--------------------------------------| Things I Like | ----------------------------------------

You can read any review for the game and that’s pretty much this section. There’s not much to say about the core game that hasn’t already been said, dozens and dozens of times, by professional or at least more knowledgeable game reviewers and critics out there.

Breath of the Wild (BOTW) is a big return to the uttermost classic Zelda feeling, of being a plucky hero in a big world that’s yours to traverse and discover, and get through on your wits and skills alone. But I’d actually argue that BOTW does the sense of open world and exploration far better than any other Zelda game comparison, not for the size of the maps (and man oh man they are big) but in that it gives you all the tools you need to explore within the first area and then kicks you out the door into the world. Any and all Zelda games, including the first, regardless of how “open” and non-linear you think they are, have a formula in that to progress through certain points, you must find an item that allows you to do so. BOTW dismisses that notion entirely and teaches you the core game mechanics and gives you the tools to explore wherever you want after the first area, and that’s a good thing. I spent the first several hours (upwards of a collective 20 or so) getting lost and just exploring, cooking food, finding side quests, fighting monsters, scaling mountains, and in a big way that’s sort of how the game is intended to be played. It’s full of creatures to hunt or befriend, hills to snowboard down on your shield, an expansive and hilarious physics engine to exploit, NPCs to meet and quests to be found and completed.

I like the provinces on the map, they’re either classic Zelda locations or call-backs to places from past games that weren’t always in Hyrule (large Majora’s Mask vibes, which makes sense, as this game takes place within the Child Era timeline). Even places that seemed the same at first ended up having subtle or severe differences, and of course the crisply-rendered graphics make the world vibrant, bright and inviting. While I miss the big orchestral scores I’m used to from other big console Zelda games, the subtle atmospheric music ended up being very nice and tonally appropriate, with familiar tunes sneaking in here and there in fun and sometimes beautiful ways.

NPC designs are unique, expressive, and full of character. Towns and hubs have a real sense of being lived in, with their own culture and way of life. Locations have their own passive dangers and benefits that make the world feel exciting and treacherous, and you can take any kind of approach to all kinds of situations. You can make special buff food or elixirs (one of the most fun things to do because I love watching the little food bits jump around in the pot) to brave the elements or give yourself extra bulk, or you can wear specialty armor or clothing, or do both. You can dye most outfits too, and tame and register your own horses and customize them. While a part of me misses the iconic green garb, being able to traverse Hyrule on a jet-black steed decked out in skulls and tattered leather while my Link was adorned with sleek black armor and cloak is kind of the best (and you can get the garb later, and then just build a custom green outfit yourself, which is how I went into end-game) Any weapon is fair game to wield as well, which was another part I greatly enjoyed and gave an added sense to exploration and that “get by on what you can find” survival aesthetic the game provides.

There really is a kind of subtle, almost accidental thoughtfulness to this game’s incarnation of Link. The background plot of the game describes, shows, and in some areas at least implies that Link was not a plucky hero from humble beginnings that the series is used to - Link was a prodigy in BOTW, a son of a proud and excellent knight who was to follow in his father’s footsteps to defend the kingdom and the royal family. Since he was a child he was groomed for this roll, despite the stress it caused him, until he became a trained and powerful warrior, even going so far as becoming the knight appointed to Princess Zelda, and wielding the Master Sword. He was the Hero from the beginning and was raised and trained his whole life to fulfill that role.

And he failed.

For all intents and purposes, Link in BOTW more or less dies (well, it’s implied he’s just unconscious and on the brink of death, but for my joking need to continue this “Link is the Chosen Undead” Dark Souls joke, yeah, he died). All the pomp and circumstance and careful, strict training surrounding his life ended up meaning nothing in the final grand scheme against Calamity Ganon. And this narrative carries not just to Link, but to the other cast of characters and Hyrule as a whole - years and years of careful planning and preparation was not what was needed to defeat Ganon.

The game starts with Link being resurrected, with no memory of what happened 100 years ago and nothing to his name but a shirt and some shoes (and the Sheikah Slate I guess). But it’s this Link, stripped of everything, who has to cross the wilds and adventure, working his way up from scratch, completing test after test and trial after trial laid out by the ruined Hyrule and the ancient Sheikah sages in their shrines, who reclaims the Master Sword, earns the green garb (or doesn’t - you only get it if you complete all 120 shrines, which I think fits tonally because I wouldn’t exactly dub a guy who failed the first time a hero until he’s been thoroughly re-tempered for the task) and defeats Ganon. It’s not a bunch of strict, stately training given to a person who’s told their destiny from a young age and forced immediately to live up to it that makes a hero in Zelda games - it’s the plucky adventurer coming from little, courageously taking on feats bigger than them for the good of Hyrule and the people within it, working up to the final encounter.

Hyrule and the NPCs you meet echo that tone as well. It’s a world that’s had to pick up the pieces since Ganon re-emerged and laid waste to their world. Descendants and spiritual successors of champions from the past risking themselves for the good of their people, unprepared and outmatched compared to what they’re up against, but coming out on top with determination and follow-through in the end. The main story of BOTW has a bittersweet, but ultimately powerful and true-to-form Zelda tale that, on top of the immersion and pure fun the game provides is why it’s so easy to see why people have rated it so highly.

Unfortunately, extended playtime with this game revealed a ton of flaws and personal nitpicks, because despite what these scores claim, no game is perfect, and neither is BOTW.

----------------------------------| Things I Didn’t Like | -----------------------------------

BOTW gets...repetitive, and at times annoying and even vacuous. I’d find a lot of really cool places during my exploration of Hyrule, but found that a lot of them just ended up being set-pieces to the world, with maybe a Korok hiding there (or maybe not, which was just super frustrating, climbing to a high mountain peak to find nothing up there). The game became measurably more enjoyable when I upgraded to full three stamina wheels, which took a lot of my early shrine upgrades to do, and that ugly, ugly little green wheel just constantly reminded me of how much I loathed it in Skyward Sword. I’d climb and climb and climb, usually not finding much of anything at the top later into the game. I’d find a set of interesting ruins, clear out the same enemies I’d fought 200 other times during the game, and not really find anything of interest within them. And god the enemies are repetitious. the same three core enemies in different colours, the same four or so core world bosses in different colours, the same Lynel and Guardians in different colours with ridiculous health bars that hit for 12 hearts a strike to impose the illusion of difficulty, when you end up just hitting them with ancient arrows, or using upgraded Stasis on them, or some other cheap trick because the combat and the difficult-to-time parrying and dodge/flurry attack prompts are not fun to activate (and if you fight them “properly”, especially the Lynels, get ready to run through all your resources).

When I go to a new area I want to see new enemies. Where are things like...I don’t know, Gibdos? Redeads? Poes? Darknuts? Skulltulas, Deku Babas, Gohmas, Armos, Dodongos, Aeralfos, Peahats, Likelikes SOMETHING ELSE besides these damn Lizalfos that keep JUMPING AROUND. I had one amazing encounter with a serpent dragon on an icy mountain peak, and had thought that I would have similar awesome encounters with the other two dragons in the game. Turns out the other two just sort of float around in locations and you don’t do anything with them except try to shoot them to farm items, no special encounters. Why.

I’d find a weapon I’d love but it would break quickly, so I ended up forming this habit of hoarding good weapons, bows, and shields, thinking I’d have to save them for later for fear they’d break, then ran into a problem where I was constantly getting showered in weaponry and had to play min-max on their attack numbers to decide what I was taking with me and what I wasn’t. I’d run into Koroks constantly to upgrade my storage space, but over time the malaise of searching for them after about 270 (out of a grand total of 900 Koroks) became too tedious and I stopped doing hyper-thorough canvasing of areas, especially because the canvasing didn’t really yield anything that exciting. I began, less and less, taking my horse places with me, because I could fast-travel and paraglide to locations I wanted to explore, and very often they were places I couldn’t even take my horse to. Armor variety, which I liked, ended up making a big chunk of food and elixir buffs superfluous and I no longer really felt a sense of danger or need to prepare for big exciting ventures into the bitter cold or so on. And upgrading armor ends up being a nightmare, as high-end stuff requires farming very precious materials, and if there’s one thing I did not like about Skyward Sword, it’s farming for materials.

Environmental hazards that could not be overridden with food or armor, particularly rain, halted my gameplay. I’d be trying to scale a cliff and, whoops - it was raining, which means you slip all the way down or exhaust your stamina trying to force through it. I’d have to go somewhere else and halt my progress on that spot, or attempt to find a place to make a fire and wait out the rain, which seems realistic in theory, but disrupts gameplay in practice. There’s also this weird abundance of cold areas in the game, but only really one hot area and only one “you’ll literally catch on fire here” area. A lot of shrine tests revolve around the same combat trial against the same enemy with a fluctuating health pool and do not get me started on the frustrating motion control mechanics for a few. I played the game on the Wii U as I did not want to get a Switch just yet, and suffered draw distance, framerate and even freezing issues. I figured this was an issue with the Wii U hardware, but hilariously it turns out this is an issue on the Switch as well (as an aside...it’s not really a good idea to have your flagship launch title with your new console be a game that the console can’t even run...)

Then there was the story. I know I just talked a lot of good about it, but the thing is, the tones and storytelling I was talking about come across as...accidental, a sort of side-effect of the game as a whole. I don’t really play Zelda games for top-tier story - let’s be real, Zelda games do not necessarily provide enriching, unique narrative experiences. They are fun, generic adventure games with action-RPG elements, and that alone is enough to make them classics beloved by so many. But it’s been 25 years and the world of Zelda has expanded into a deep-reaching and ridiculous lore, enough that it has enough content to provide for a hard-cover art book, a historia featuring a collective timeline with three branching routes, and an upcoming encyclopedia. As years go by, narrative elements in Zelda games, such as story and character development, become larger and more prominent as the series develops. This is not a bad thing, and as a huge Zelda lore nerd myself it gives games a bit of extra appeal for me personally.

The issue with BOTW, and maybe the Zelda series as a whole, is that it’s kind of “blooming late” on the story and character narrative department in a generation where huge arcing epics with deep and relatable characters run regular in a lot of mainstream triple-A titles. BOTW, for example, is the first Zelda game to feature voice acting, something I was very wary about when I first heard about it, and ended up being rightfully wary. No it’s not terrible - the cast is doing the best they can with the stilted dialogue and passive direction they clearly had to work with, but it creates a very underwhelming and at times embarrassing experience that shouldn’t be so in a time when English dubbing/voice acting and localization is at some of it’s best (though not always of course), especially for a big-name title like Zelda from a big-name company like Nintendo. If this was the first time they were going to try voice-acting, this doesn’t really inspire me to look forward to it being a repeated trend in other titles. And even then, there’s actually only a handful of scenes that are actually voice-acted, with the rest of it being the usual textbox scrawls with some vocal sounds over top like in previous games, which begs the question as to why they bothered to go with the voice work at all.

BOTW does something I refer to as A Plot and a B Plot, the A Plot being the main over-arching story of the game and the B Plot beside an over-arching side-story of the game. Typically, A Plots are the here-and-now of a form of media, it takes place in the present, with the B Plot being in the past, the future, or behind the scenes but being woven into the A Plot. When I set out to play BOTW, I thought that the failings of the past and it’s events would be the B Plot, with the A Plot as the here and now, focusing on new characters who would pick up the mantle of those who had fallen and see me into battle with Ganon. I thought I would follow the trials and tribulations of Princess Zelda in the A Plot, as well as the four champions, but it turns out, I was wrong.

When the game starts, the four champions are dead, and Princess Zelda is keeping Ganon trapped within Hyrule Castle, her power about to expend. At first I thought this was tonally appropriate - after all, they did fail, and it is supposed to paint a bleak picture of Hyrule. But this also meant that the only way for me to really learn or care about these characters was through optional flashbacks, and flashbacks are not really good tools to tell a story most of the time. I went and collected every memory, but didn’t really end up learning anything particularly new or exciting about any character other than Zelda herself - a wonderful character and incarnation of the classic princess, who is, honestly, a nerd. She’s an insecure scholar, burying herself in research to escape the stress of her failed ability to use her magic (Triforce, Light Force, I don’t know - the Triforce doesn’t feature at all in the game), the loss of her mother, and her honestly mean and scornful father and the doubtful whispers of her kingdom. She’s in over her head, and while her abilities and passion are best suited for studying the ancient technology and the Divine Beasts, at every turn it seems that she is forced away from this and told to focus on her destiny, that of using her sealing power to trap Ganon away. It plays again on that theme that pre-conceived notions and strict preparation in the name of prophecy and destiny and what have you still lead to failure, and that it’s through the heart of adventure and discovery that heroes that can defeat the darkness are forged. I expected that new champions would rise to replace the failed ones of the past, born from the adventure and sudden struggle of Ganon suddenly re-emerging, without any preparation beforehand. I expected Zelda to get her big moment where she proves that she doesn’t need old rituals and prayers to unlock her power, and that her inner strength comes from her true passions, and uses her research and scholar prowess to find ways to balk Ganon and use her power. I expected new heroes to rise and take control of the Divine Beasts in the steed of the failed champions of the past.

Well that doesn’t happen. The Divine Beasts get piloted by the ghosts of the fallen champions, who are ultimately dull and kind of not really likeable save maybe one or two. The new characters who help you get onto the Divine Beasts, which act as the “main” dungeons in the game, fall to the wayside and are forgotten after, apparently unable to become champions themselves (as only “champions” can board the beasts, apparently) despite the trials they face to assist Link and fight back against Ganon to save their people. The main dungeons lose their luster quickly too - they’re puzzle-based, requiring the same mechanic for each one (find five terminals, beat the boss at the end, each boss looks kind of the same). Something I thought was interesting was that each beast can be controlled from within, and you use that mechanic to solve puzzles. Two of the beasts end up using the same tilt mechanic though, and three beasts require shooting arrows at it to board (two of which are bomb arrows), and with the beasts’ interiors all looking the same it just sort of gets...a bit dull after a while. Been there, done that, done this, again. I really do miss more classic Zelda dungeons if just for the cheese factor, but this game does not have them.

Since the game has to use flashbacks instead of a continuous story to show the development and relationships of the characters (where dialogue is delivered unnaturally), the original four champions seem very one-note, defined by maybe one or two traits. The case of Revali is especially frustrating. Why is he so mean to Link? Is it his pride, did something occur between them, is it something else? We don’t know, we never learn, because primary characters introduced are not developed, he’s Just The Rival character, to fulfill the trope. His introduction in a mandatory flashback comes from Link literally looking at a bunch of planks of wood on a flight landing (I’m serious), and Revali is more or less an arrogant jerk to the end because That’s His Character I suppose. While we’re on the subject, the entirety of Rito Village is a wash - NPCs talk about how there’s nothing to do there, the Divine Beast is not causing any serious harm, it’s just not letting the Rito fly as high as they like and is being a general nuisance, the Rito that helps you board is just Some Guy and you don’t really see him again unless you want to do yet another optional and inconsequential mini-game. The dungeon is easy, borrows a boarding scenario from another beast, and borrows its in-dungeon mechanic from another beast. The whole area is such a let-down.

And then there’s Zelda, my poor, poor Zelda. She fails, just as everyone does, and I thought, and hoped, and prayed, just as I said before, that her inner strength would come through in the form of doing things HER way, using her research and her smarts, sticking it to the father and the people who didn’t believe in her by succeeding with the very methods they disapproved of. Well no - she activates her sealing power at the last second to protect Link because she loves him. It’s “tru wuv” that sparks her big character moment, where she does exactly what destiny pre-determined she do, not some awesome defiant moment where she pools her strength and self-confidence through her research and herself. She doesn’t even get to research and discover for herself that the power is apparently so closely linked to her “heart” or whatever generic nonsense works the magic this time - gotta love The Boy, that’s what makes you strong. And this is not extrapolating - when you complete all the shrine quests Kass the Rito bard gives, you can see him at Rito Village, where he tells the story of his teacher and the events just before the Calamity, and how his teacher fell in love with the princess, but the princess was in love with her appointed knight. The song his teacher taught to Kass after his teacher witnessed Zelda unlocking her powers was how her love for her knight was what brought it to the surface. Even the Zora champion Mipha, who I guess was supposed to be some callback to Rito from Ocarina of Time in a way, hints that her amazing healing ability is born by “thinking about who she cares about most”, and that’s not her family or friends or anything, that’s Link - who she loves and adores and wants to marry because that’s the Rito callback I guess.

I was so angry, it’s trite and tropey and ruins half the tone the game manages to do so well. Show me a BOTW Zelda who overcomes after failure not through “true love” and all the pre-destined nonsense that lead them all to failure to begin with, but the scholar she is using her research, her passion for knowledge, her wisdom, to unlock her power, to stop the Guardians, to seal Ganon.

Oh and then there’s Ganon. “Calamity Ganon”, now a non-character - just an amorphous, shadowy entity of no real interest. I suppose you could say that after the events of Twilight Princess or Four Swords, Ganon(dorf) is really no more, no longer a proper physical entity, no longer the Gerudo man who had ambitions or menace or a tangible presence when he entered a room - that person was long since defeated properly, and it’s only the lingering malice, that sort of twisted essence of the primordial Demise from Skyward Sword, that remains. From a lore perspective that works, but it doesn’t make for an interesting villain, just like flashbacks don’t make for interesting storytelling and character development. The final battle in and of itself is hugely underwhelming too. Calamity Ganon’s first form is an apparently “incomplete” gooey, robotic spider...thing...it’s very ugly as a design in a game that’s had largely strong character and enemy designs, except for the Divine Beast bosses which, I guess fits tonally. And unlike other enemies where you can kind of take multiple approaches to the battle, you MUST bounce the laser beams in the second half of the fight back at the boss with either a shield parry or the Master Sword, which I think is the game trying to do the old “tennis mechanic” callback but it’s really...kind of janky and often unresponsive? The second form LOOKED much cooler and more tonally appropriate, with a huge, flaming Dark Beast out in Hyrule Field that I’d ride around on my trusty steed fighting. But instead Dark Beast Ganon just faces one direction only, shooting lasers at nothing. Your horse sort of meanders around and you just ride updrafts or stand safely beside it waiting for Zelda to shout very loudly and clearly about the GIANT GLOWING TRIFORCE-SHAPED WEAK POINTS you can hit with your Light Arrows - it’s all an exact, even easier version of all the “boarding the Divine Beast” scenarios you did earlier in the game.

Zelda re-appears, seals Ganon, gives these really wishy-washy smiles and lines. The ghosts of the king and the Champions linger in the silhouette of Hyrule Castle and say nothing. We get no closure on the king and Zelda, who as far as the game wishes to imply in flashbacks and a hidden diary the king left in the castle, parted on extremely tense and unfavorable terms. the Champions get no final word in either. Zelda is shown after the credits kind of just...acting like everything’s a bit “back to normal”, saying her and Link need to go to Zora’s Domain to give the king closure on Mipha which...it’s been 100 years he’s...more or less made peace with the death of his daughter by now as was shown earlier in the game. Zelda says she can no longer hear the “voice” in the Master Sword and admits her powers must have weakened over the course of 100 years, but she’s actually okay with that for once, which I think would have been a bit more powerful of a statement to her character if she’d previously shown that her own determination and smarts were her true strengths all along, and not this HUGELY powerful magic. There’s a shot of the Silent Princess flower at the end, a flower that in the game Zelda comments on, saying that it cannot bloom in captivity and only in the wilds. Again, it would be a very thematically-appropriate metaphor for how Zelda’s true strength came from her journeys in the wild, focusing on her unique strengths and not those pre-determined by her destiny, but the game has her...literally in a state of “captivity” holding Ganon back. If anything the Silent Princess flower metaphor makes a stronger thematic statement for Link, not Zelda, and that’s really telling about how inconsistent and weak a lot of the story-telling is in this game. It was clearly supposed to really be about the relationship between Link and Zelda and their character development, but since they spend the entire game separated and only show shallow interactions of them together in short flashbacks that only really serve to develop Zelda (as well as her diary entries found in the castle), things end up feeling...vapid, forced and ultimately weak.

And I just...want to fight. A Darknut. One damn Darknut and have a cool sword fight. Or a Poe. Not another dAMN LIZALFOS. LET ME CLIMB TO THE TOP OF A MOUNTAIN AND FIND A WHOLE DUNGEON UP THERE.

I MISS.

HEART PIECES. AND UPGRADES.

AS REWARDS FOR EXCELLENT COMPLETION OF MINI-GAMES. IT INCITES. YOU TO REPLAY THEM.

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

In summary, Breath of the Wild is excellent. But I’m a huge nerd and it’s clear that a lot of people who reviewed this game only went in for about 20 or so hours and didn’t complete it before passing final verdict. I hope Nintendo builds from this game’s strengths and learns it’s weaknesses.

#zeldablogging #maddie's writing #botw spoilers

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shadeside · 7 years ago

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Petra stuff; A little ditty about the way she found one of her uncommon items.

She was Heloise when she met the Lady Rockfurther.

She'd heard the name in a tavern a town over, eavesdropping on the conversation of two shrewish men. That Heloise of the such-and-suches apparently had a real problem with staying in her knickers- Not in the sex way, because that would have been terrifically boring, but in the 'spontaneous stripping in public' way, and listening to the account of the last time the young woman had dropped trow and run screeching through the streets, Petra had snorted into her honeyed wine.

Heloise, even. Like someone had wanted a sweet baby Eloise and then the babe had come out caterwauling and flinging clothing to the wind and the poor parents had realized they had a little more than they bargained for- Something a little hellish.

Delightful.

She tucked that into her pocket, and when she came upon the border city of Pugenia, she pulled it out again and slipped it on like a shawl- A softer Heloise than her namesake, pauperish and timid, but it was a delightful private joke nonetheless, and one she enjoyed very much as she picked up threads of rumor about the Lady Rockfurther.

The Lady was..Spent. Infamous for her impotence, she'd been an imposing figure once. Her husband had been a Lord, a something-or-other to the inconsequential King of the mountainous region. Then he had died, and he had left his wife a great deal of money and very little else. If Heloise understood correctly, once upon a time she'd been a fierce badger of a woman. But the untimely demise of her husband had cast her adrift, and she'd fallen swiftly into obscurity. Her fortune remained, but her social status had crumbled even as the once keen edges of her aging mind were blunted, and by the time Heloise was birthed into existence she was a rich and lonely and vaguely pitiful widow.

She held parties, though; Fantastic events with food and music that bled money at the seams. And when she held her parties, people came to the towering and pristine Downwillow Hall (which was, mystifyingly, up; This Heloise would resent greatly on her first trek up the tall hill above the city proper) and ate and drank and smiled and soaked up the dribbles of fortune..And then, they left. And the Hall was empty again, at least until the Lady grew desperate enough to host another event, luring company in with the promise of luxury.

She couldn't have concocted a better mark if she'd written her herself; And so Heloise skulked about town until she learned all she needed to know about the Lady, and the next time the tall windows lit up with flickering candlelight and dazzling magelights, she made her way up, up. She batted her eyelashes at the late-coming guests, ignored the sneers, smiled at the interested glances- And whispered to the doorman, sweet words laced with magic velvety and deep as shadow when no one was looking. I play such fine music, she'd breathed, a hand on his arm, steering him as deftly as if she held the reins of a horse. The Lady would like to meet me, you must let me inside..

The Lady required no spells to be warmed, no arcane coercion; Just lowered eyes and hands just restless enough to suggest she was managing her nerves, a lip caught just so between the teeth, and, "If I might play, just for a little while.. I'll make it worth your time, I promise, and perhaps just a bit of coin.. I promise, none of your guests have ever heard my songs before."

And the Lady Rockfurther, a frail thing with creased-paper skin and a curved back, had cooed at her, and oh, certainly-ed her, and Heloise had found a likely corner to settle in, and drawn the Sunside kalimba out from her pack. It was gaudy and cheap, but she'd tuned it as well as she could, and it made a pleasing enough sound. Besides, half of the appeal was the novelty of her; This she knew. If she could play passably, sometimes earning her place was more about being gaunt and grey and strange. She was familiar, now, with the particular look a spectator got when they were paying more attention to the boniness, the angular quality of her fingers than the notes they plucked out. That was well enough. It wasn't about the evening, or the music, or the coin, after all- It was about the moment that came in the wee hours, when the well-to-do people had begun to trickle out the doors, and the Lady was starting to look just a little bit...Bereft, her practiced smile crackling at the edges.

Heloise approached her timidly, head bowed. Deferential, always deferential- Even with this one, who she could surely knock over with a stiff breath. "Is there an inn in town that's..Safe? For a young woman alone," she'd murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear with her fingertips, the gesture of a young, young girl. "I'm never sure- Things do happen.."

The pause was..Just a beat too long, and for an instant, Heloise thought she'd failed. Then, the Lady had reached out and put a papery hand, so light that it felt like it was spun from brittle glass, on her shoulder. It was a wonder the sharp edges of bone there didn't shatter it outright, but if the Lady noticed, she had the manners to keep her opinions to herself.

Instead, she called her "darling", and "poor thing", and invited her to stay. The leftovers from the grand banquet were exquisite- And so was the breakfast, sweet little cakes served not in the fine dining room but in a surprisingly snug kitchen, at a table beneath a window that caught the morning sun in a way that felt fit to melt the bones out of her in the most delicious way.

The transition from the evening, to the day, to the evening again was so seamless she barely had to try. There was some house staff, but besides that, when the Lady wasn't upending her pockets the house was still as a churchyard. And it was such a big house, with so many rooms, powerfully vertical and polished, far too much space for one woman. She only had to.. Forget to leave. And she was welcome without being welcomed, accepted as if she belonged there.

The Lady herself delighted in the company; She would sit and talk to her in a sort of.. Grandmotherly way, about this hobby and that person who was often long dead or rendered unimportant; She was sharp enough to realize sooner rather than later that stories about the elaborate court mishaps of her youth delighted Heloise.. And impaired enough that she never managed to talk for quite longer than Heloise could stand; Because she was impaired. Her mind, quick though it had obviously once been (and still occasionally was), tended to betray her. She would forget herself mid-conversation, lose her words or the thread of the story; Sometimes, Heloise suspected she lost track of where she was, or when. But she was proud, still, even in her diminished state. And so, rather admit her failings, when she was struck by her fits of confusion she would just.. Grow quiet, and withdraw. And Heloise was set free to do as she pleased until her benefactor recovered herself.

And there was a great deal to do in the big house. For the first couple of days, she lined her pockets with delight. But eventually, she was so overwhelmed by how much there was to see that she began to forget to take. The Lady, it seemed, came from a family of "collectors". That was what she called it- "Collecting" antiques, oddities, magical items. It looked quite a bit like hoarding in practice, but hoarding of the most delightful things. There was a clockwork beast in the entryway, some kind of little animal that was like a scaled shrew and that, when wound, clashed its metallic claws together. The table where she ate her breakfast was canopied by a net of fine prisms that cast rainbows down on her face; There was a case in the library filled with ancient, carved stones that sang (Although the Lady seemed deaf to the sound, and these were uncanny enough that she never quite cared to touch them, even on her boldest days). It was a feast for the senses, and without realizing it she found herself feeling..Almost at home.

Even the Lady herself remained bearable as time went on. She was old enough that she was easy. There were no wandering hands, no remarks more off-color than one wistful declaration of, "If I were younger.." that never went any further than that, and might not have meant anything besides. Her stories, when they were coherent and relevant enough, were interesting, and she left her guest to her own devices often, anyway. Eventually, Heloise grew comfortable enough with the old woman to touch, to reach out a light hand and pat the dandelion fluff of her white hair, finding it both airy and surprisingly coarse under her fingers. The old woman had felt it and laughed, and Heloise began to.. Relax with her, almost, by tiny, tiny degrees.

And somewhere along the way she discovered the closed-off wings: The storage wings. They were "dangerous", apparently; Too many things crammed in, all haphazard and any-which-way, for timid young girls named Heloise to explore. So Heloise went to bed, and then Petra got up again, and crept into the fascinating rooms at night.

They were dusty, and dark, and occasionally inhabited by spiders and stinging creatures that scurried out from dark corners, surprisingly aggressive. But the things she found! There was a great deal of junk here, and of crates nailed shut, too tightly sealed to quietly open; Of things bent and tarnished and useless to her. But there were things that were gleaming, too, gold and gemstone; Things that were so old and strange that they fascinated her even though they were made all of dirt and stone. There were things that thrummed with magical energy that she grabbed for, eager and curious, and a few that, like the singing stones in the library, she avoided on account of some instinct she didn't quite understand. There was a mirror that, bafflingly, omitted her reflection; A chalice filled to the brim with a glistening dark liquid, but only when viewed out of the corner of her eye. On one occasion she stumbled unexpectedly upon a great taxidermy bear, the heavy corpse frozen forever upright on stocky hind legs. She'd nearly run into it by the time she noticed it, and this one wasn't magical, at least as far as she could tell. Still, she'd nearly cried out as she staggered away again, and she had avoided that room forever after, haunted by visions of it lumbering slowly, painfully to life the instant she turned her back.

It took her weeks to find the little wooden case. Weeks of lounging the days away, eating her fill until she almost began to gain weight and sprawling on rugs and couches in buttery sunshine while the Lady talked, or knitted with hands too gnarled and knotted to knit even halfway effectively; Weeks of sleeping in a bed so soft she nearly drowned in it, and weeks of forgetting herself. Because that was what it was, really; She forgot herself. She got careless. She slid into the skin of Heloise and found a fit there so comfortable that she lost track of the way out.

And then she found the case.

She didn't find it in the storage wings; Rather, she found it when she finally, finally had the chance to rifle through the Lady's rooms unchecked. She'd been in the Lady's personal rooms before, but only for brief periods of time, or else with the Lady herself for company. The Lady was old and tired easily, and was prone to retiring at odd hours and for unpredictable amounts of time, lingering in her bed or on the soft couches. The door was also, without fail, the only room that was locked if the Lady herself wasn't present, and Petra was poor with locks. At least, if she wanted them to function afterwards, and that was fairly essential if she wanted to be welcome at Downwillow when she was done- And she did, not least of all because there had been a great deal of talk of fruit pies lately. Still, these were the only rooms left that she hadn't been able to prowl through to her heart's content, and it was absolutely maddening.

At last, the opportunity came when the Lady went out to see her doctor. It was the first time she'd gone further out than the front yard since Heloise had arrived, and it was a great to-do to get out of going along herself. There was quite a bit of hand-patting, of the word 'company' and 'darling'-ing and she very nearly had to dig her heels in like an obstinate dog being dragged on a leash to stay behind.

But she got her way eventually, insisting again and again that she was too tired for trips, that she only wanted to lay down. And the maid went with the Lady instead, as was her custom; And Petra went with a collection of hairpins and thin nails and bits and bobs to the locked door.

She understood how locks worked, in theory. And she understood how lock picking might work, too, in the most basic sense. She did not, however, have lock picks, and so began a long process of trial-and-error that would have been infinitely easier if she'd had more than half an idea what she was doing. She cut her finger on the first wire she tried; It bent under the pressure of her hand and slid effortlessly into her skin, raising a thin line of violet blood. That finger went into her mouth, and she swapped hands for her next attempt, only to find that the delicate nail she'd robbed from a forgotten picture frame wasn't delicate enough to fit into the hole. And so on, and so on, until she was left to realize that hairpins were her best bet, and when the lock finally clicked free she hissed with delight.

The rooms inside smelled of dry rose and something medicinal; Ointment and potpourri. The sitting room was plush but cluttered, chaotic with things; the bedroom behind sunny and comfortable. Off to her left was a sprawling closet, big as some houses she'd been in and full of gowns aging but lovely. (She'd tried some of these on, once; None had fit at all, but the Lady had made a remark about having them taken in, because "why not, it's not as if I'll ever wear these old ones again", and Heloise had stroked the emerald fabric draped over her gaunt frame with covetous fingers.)

She made to slip inside, already reaching out to shut the door behind her. One slippered foot hit the rug.. And for a moment, she stopped. A thrill of unease gripped her, so profound that she glanced once again around the room, almost expecting to find someone there, watching. But the room was empty and inviting and still, and she was struck by a new notion as the sensation faded, an image of the maid coming down the hall and finding her there, lurking in the doorway like a fool. So she stole inside, and shut the door behind her- Softly.

She pawed delicately through the desk, first, lifted the cover and shuffled through the papers there with careful fingers. All the letters must have old; She doubted the Lady could read the small print on some of them at all, and the handwriting was all too fine to have come from her shaky fingers. She did see some names she recognized as she skimmed them; Lords and ladies from the stories she'd been told. A chest against the wall was full of silk nothings, soft handkerchiefs and scarves, and she had to resist the urge to shove her arms into it for fear of disturbing them. A lacquered box held tiny pots of paint and dark-haired brushes. She wondered if the Lady had painted, once, or if this was another object she'd picked up as a matter of "collecting". The bristles of the brushes felt stiff under her fingers, as if ancient paint were trapped in them still. There was a brass figure tucked in next to them; A dog, with stern eyes. She resisted the fanciful urge to cover them as she closed the lid, as if it were watching her.

There were pieces that looked like they'd come from some clockwork assemblage like the one in the front room in the first drawer she opened; The next held cases of pinned insects, mundane moths and beetles in next to creatures that looked entirely unlikely, gleaming like gems or glistening like water or double-headed. In a cabinet, a pewter urn that reminded her very much of the maybe-filled vessel she'd found in the dusty dark, although this one never did seem to be full, no matter how she tilted her head or stuck her fingers into it. In another drawer yet, an artfully carved hair-comb that seemed to be made of bone, and a box, wrapped in a handkerchief.

This, she had to lift to unwrap, and she found a dark, glistening wood underneath, a crimson so deep it was nearly black. It felt almost oily under her fingers, and she spent a moment stroking it, trying to decide if the sensation was pleasing or foul. She hadn't yet made up her mind by the time she grew bored and started to fuss with the latch. For one maddening moment, sitting with the case on her knees, she thought she’d found another lock; Then she caught her fingernail under it just so, and flipped the top back.

After some of the things she'd found, she half-expected the unusual box to be crammed full of garbage, but the inside was pristine; A single object lay on a bed of cloth, pillowed delicately in the precise center. It was maybe the size of her palm and fingers, and flat, a rectangle of some kind of thin wood or dense paper. Delicate scrollwork ran along the edges, and a figure dangled down into the frame. Done up all in dark greys and blues and violets, it was upside-down, and she followed the lines of the body down to..

..a face, grey and gaunt, tipped back in what might have been ecstasy or suffering; All angles on a field of dark, wild hair, with a high-bridged nose and blue eyes--

And everything stopped, for an instant, as the shock took her, because she looked down at the box in her lap and she saw Heloise, she saw Petra, she saw an unmistakable image of herself here where none should be. It was old, she could tell it was older than she was by a long shot; The pigment, though vibrant, had cracked, and flaked; The corners were soft with wear; But it was her, it was her face, and there was no mistaking. The longer she looked, the more points of resemblance she found: Collar bones pressed tight to the skin, ears just a shade too large, a plum flush low on the cheeks.

And when she remembered to feel, she felt as if she'd been the brunt of some dangerous joke for ages, and was only now realizing. It was wrong, this was wrong- There was no reason for this to be here and she felt caught and the worst part was that it still didn't make sense. There was no sliding into place of clues she only recognized now, looking back on them; There was no 'aha!', no satisfaction, just the dread and puzzlement. She had no idea how sharp were the teeth in the beastly jaws she'd laid herself in, how great her peril, and she shut the box hard-

-and opened it again, and lifted the painted card out with trembling hands. Her face, on this ancient thing, and it was wrong, wrong, wrong.

She took it with her when she went, wrapped up in the cloth it had been nestled in. And she went immediately, long before the Lady returned- At least, she assumed. Without notice, without event.. And still, she felt like there were beasts at her back, all the way down the road and for days after. She spent that first evening staring at the card by firelight, watching the orange gleam play across the gilded border; In the morning, she bent low over it, trying to read her own expression. Pain? Triumph? The inverted figure, the head dangling and hair swinging wildly, made her dizzy, and she wrapped it again. The next time she got it out, she would consider shredding it, or burning it; But she never did, only tucked it away and checked to be sure it was safe at the bottom of her pack before she set off again, then and every so often afterwards- Never forgotten, and strangely coveted. Because as long as she had it, no one else did, and that was reassuring, somehow- As if she could see it forgotten. And so she held onto it as she went, through days and weeks and months after.

And if, sometimes, she thought she heard the Lady's voice in crowded town squares, if she glimpsed her in the aged white hair of strangers and felt her blood run cold, she swallowed the fear down. And she ignored the little voice in the back of her head, whispering still, caught, caught, caught.

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