#where am i going to put melvin...

[ectoplasmer]

guess who is thinking about homestuck again

[candyfsh]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . dating hcs <3

by candyfsh

including; dallas winston, melvin moody, richie white (those are my favs)

——————————————————————————

dallas winston ౨ৎ

𖦹 ik everybody says that dally would be suuuper toxic and a rlly bad boyfriend,, but hear me out. he would literally hate everyone but you.

𖦹 he buys you things and steals you things, about 50/50

𖦹 he isn't one for cuddling or anything but he'll definitely play with your hair and hold your head gently if you're snuggled beside him or on his chest💔

𖦹 he isn't huge on pda,, but he always keeps an arm around you or kisses your face and head and lips constantly

𖦹 he also uses extra pda at parties. just letting everyone know you're dating him 😊😊

𖦹 he will NOT ever let you put makeup on him, but he does let you put chapstick on for him. he likes how gentle you are even if it's just chapstick 😓

𖦹 always brags about you

𖦹 "yeah man that's cool but my gf is soooo hot 😝"

𖦹 he likes to go over to your house whenever he can because you make him feel safe

𖦹 he won't admit that though. never.

𖦹 but it's also lowk obvious?? bc he's always hanging around you and making sure you're close to him

𖦹 im being so fr he thought he wouldn't trust or love anyone again after sylvia then BOOM he met you and he's like OMG.

melvin moody ౨ৎ

𖦹 he loves you and makes it known omg

𖦹 like ofc he cares about his reputation?? he js loves you sooooo much and whenever he sees you he's like woah that's my gf!!!

𖦹 when you're sitting next to each other literally anywhere, he has to be touching you just to like confirm you're there or something???

𖦹 he's holding your hand, his arm is around your shoulder, his hand is in your lap, your head is on his shoulder, he's playing with your hair, his arm is around your waist, whateves!!! he just loves touching you

𖦹 he's still a tough guy ofc,,, but in school, it's kinda like lowkey slowed down

𖦹 but he'll still punch someone if they made you uncomfortable whatsoever

𖦹 i personally think moody would be big on cuddling 😙

𖦹 he loves to spoon you omg!!!

𖦹 moody feels like he can truly be himself around you (including letting his hair not be greased up. you love to see his hair ungreased)

𖦹 he gets you gifts sometimes with the money he's gotten from kids but he refuses to EVER tell you where he got the money

𖦹 PET NAMES PET NAMES PET NAMES!!! 💗💗💗

𖦹 "baby" "sweetie" "hottie" "cutie" everything.

𖦹 you and moody are literally so in love and so adorable and all his friends tease him about being so whipped but he's all like "damn right i am"

richie white ౨ৎ

𖦹 this little baby is so cute and loves you sm

𖦹 my personal hc is that richie has never had a gf,, he just flirts with every girl he sees

𖦹 so you're basically each other's first everything in a relationship. it's really sweet💔.

𖦹 he alwaayyyss brags to you about a new crime he committed. especially the time he broke into a bike shop.

𖦹 whenever some girl flirts with him in the rec center he's all like "yeah yeahh i got a beautiful girl i ain't interested"

𖦹 AND YES HE REFERS TO YOU AS HIS BEAUTIFUL GIRL ALWAYS 😖😖

𖦹 "ysee my beautiful girl over there??" "she's my beautiful girl" "i got the most beautiful girl ever"

𖦹 bc this is his first relationship that's more than just kissing and flirting, he wants to prove himself to you that he's more than a juvenile delinquent

𖦹 (but he'll never stop being one)

𖦹 he doesn't know what to do for dates so he takes you to the rec or a walk around town or his lil spot with carl

𖦹 speaking of carl, he's sooooo sick of hearing about you

𖦹 y/n this y/n that,,, my man richie just loves you!!!

𖦹 btw he calls you the dumbest pet names in public to tease you, like sugarplum and honeybee

𖦹 he will never get over the fact that YOU chose HIM of all people. like he's confident in himself,, he's just like "omg she's so perfect why is she with me"

𖦹 that's why he makes sure to never take you for granted

𖦹 if richie has his hands anywhere on you, his hand is probably in your back pocket. not like in a perverted way or anything,, he just likes it there 😙😙

𖦹 his arms are almost always around your shoulders too

𖦹 he's very touchy

𖦹 you + richie = forever

[astroyongie]

Why Am I This Way - Psychology Answers

Note: This is the last part from "How Am I" Section!! hope you guys like it

“How Am I” Section

“Would I Be Happier If I Was Egoist?”

What happens in the unconscious brain: 

A lot of times, the question around being egoistic is seen as a bad character trait because “as in a society, we need to put the other first”

But the reality is, we all need to put our well being as a priority, in order to find a certain comfort and happiness in life. 

We tend to care more for others due to the societal regime we are born in but also because it's a parental responsibility to socialize us (as well as school)

Parents and the educational system will teach children about the duty as a person and “how the world works”, what we have to do to have a good life. Some parents will based themselves in education as being “well mannered” = which often concludes to “shutting up and accepting what is said and done” 

Most of us have learned since we are young that benign good and well mannered will reward us, while being bad and egoistic is going to be punished and casted out. 

Rowe shows in her theories that people who have a “bad” education as putting themselves first have a lower probability of suffering depression compared to people who have been educated through well mannered ways and have been educated as putting others first

Rowe insists that being good is a fundamental belief for depression,

Mostly because those who have been educated as being “good” can sometimes have situations where they have issues with authority or the rules. whenever they are unable to make it right or obtain a certain value, they will consider themselves as failures and thus enhance the feelings of guilt and depression.

the underlying belief of the world as a fair and predictable place corroborates the mistaken belief that good people are rewarded and increases the feeling of inadequacy 

We need to start accepting that the world isn't fair and predictable, and that rules are here to allow us to see past the chaos. However unwritten laws don’t tie you up to necessities and you are allowed to be egoistic when you need to be. 

if you are interested in more of this topics you can check the works of Dorothy Rowe and Melvin Lerner

So what can we do?

As Albert Camus once said, to be happy we should not worry much about others 

The world isn’t fair and no matter what you will do, there will never be a wrong and right answer

You need to liberate yourself from the necessity of pleasing everyone and everything. 

Instead of making events fit into our impoverished pile of possible narratives, throw out rules and allow yourself to be who you are without any attachment 

Find the middle spectrum between pleasing others and being good, and being egoistic and putting yourself first. Take in consideration the environment but never push your body and soul to do something that is breaking you down

You are only sabotaging yourself by doing so

Breaking rules can be easy and can lead you to happiness. Experiment. Eat that cookie. Tell your boss he has been an ass. Tell your friends no. Say yes to life. 

Now, you know where to work to become a better version of yourself 

[ethanthespookymonth]

The Lorax Creepypasta

Hey guys! What a lovely morning for a Creepypasta, isn't it? This is my Lorax Creepypasta, and I hope you guys enjoy!

“Alright! I’m off to sell my thneeds!” I say as I throw the thneed into the wagon. “Well just remember Oncie,” mom begins to say. “If your creation isn’t a success- Well I wouldn’t be surprised at all!” “Wow, thanks,” I mutter to myself. I leave and begin my adventure to find a place. I end up in a forest full of fluffy trees. They were called the truffula trees. “This is the place! This is it, Melvine!” I say excitedly. Not even halfway through the day, I cut down one of the trees. It starts to get windy and dark out, like a storm was forming. A small creature, the color orange appears before me. He sees the tree that I had just cut down and looks at me. “Did you chop down this tree?” “No!” I say. I drop the ax on a small bear looking creature. “I think he did it.” Then the small creature looks at me in disgust. “I am the Lorax and I speak for the trees. And if you don’t leave before the sun rises tomorrow morning, all forces of nature will haunt you. You have been warned.” But I didn’t know that the warning actually had some very horrible consequences.

I go to bed. “Boy, what a day. That Lorax guy is bad news.” I close my eyes and fall asleep. It’s been a couple hours, and I suddenly feel cold water on my face. I snap awake. “What’s going on?” I look around. I’m in my bed floating in the river heading towards a waterfall. “Oh shit…” The Lorax and some other creatures helped me before PipSqueak drowned. “I just gave you a warning. Please understand the next consequence won't be as easy as this one.” “I swear to never chop another tree down.” The next day I get ready to sell my thneeds. Of course no one appreciates it, and I give up. After a couple days, a large mob of people arrive in the forest asking for more of them. That’s how my factory started up. Let's get going through the story.

The factory had closed down due to there being no trees. It’s dark and super cloudy. Can’t even see the sky or the sun. I look around and see the Lorax. “I told you this would happen,” he says as he puts a rock down that says unless. “Now they all have to go find a new place to stay.” The Lorax then disappears. “What have I done?” I ask myself. I feel ashamed. I feel angry and upset. I feel… sick? I feel something coming up from my stomach. I put my hands up to my mouth and cough up a rose. There’s blood all over my hands, and vines start to cover my body. “WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME?!” I scream in pain. This can’t be happening to me! Is this what the Lorax meant by the forces of nature haunting me? Did he curse me to become a plant? I feel another rose coming up and lean against one of the factory's walls. Another rose flying out of my mouth. “HELP ME!!!” I scream as the roses and vines grow onto my body. I can feel my eyes glowing and look in the mirror. My eyes are now glowing a bright green. My skin is bleeding from the thorns, and I fall to the ground. It’s too much… 

I wake up and I go to the town close by. I’m holding my ax. “Where is that bastard…?” I say in a harsh raspy voice. “I’m going to kill him for doing this to me…” It’s early, so the sun is just coming up. People are just starting to wake up and go outside. “Mama that man is hurt!” a  child says and points at me. I look at her and spread a wide grin on my face. “Honey, stay away from him… I don’t like the way he looks…” I grit my teeth. “This was never my fault!” I yell and swing my ax at the woman. It hits her in the neck, decapitating her. The child screams and runs inside. A man comes up behind me with a gun. I turn my head to face him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you…” I say grinning very widely. “I won’t let you hurt anyone else you crazy son of a bitch!” The man says and puts the gun to my head. I raise my hand as vines grow around the gun breaking it. “H-how is that possible?” The man runs. “Very brave,” I say and follow him. He runs to an ally and I come up behind him. “How bad can I possibly be…?”

[in-death-we-fall]

A New Beginning

A year ago when Terrorizer spoke to Joey Jordison, the drummer was a man of (sic) the edge. Now the Slipknot founder is in a different headspace and facing the future with heady determination.

Words: Tobyn Dorcian  Pics: Kane Hibberd Terrorizer #224, July 2012 (google docs link)

**self harm warning for questions 4 and 5 and image 4**

When Joey Jordison was in Australia in March 2011, he was a wreck. Ten months afterPaul (sic) Gray, Joey’s best friend and fellow Slipknot originator/bassist had died from a drugs (sic) overdose, and the drummer was psychologically frail. To distract from his grief, Jordison had over-committed to Soundwave festival as both guitarist in the Murderdolls and drummer for Rob Zombie – exhaustion led to him cancel (sic) a Sydney show.

A year on, Jordison is the antithesis of that vision. Once again in Australia, this time with Slipknot for their 7pm slot at Soundwave festival, he is chipper and energetic. Near unrecognisable with a bush ranger-like beard and moustache, the 37-year-old is in such a great mood he insists on doing two interviews: one at 6.30pm prior to Slipknot’s Melbourne arena sideshow, and another at 11.40pm at its conclusion.

How has the past 12 months been for you? “Very positive. I’m happier than I’ve been for a long time.”

The death of best friend and Slipknot bassist Paul Gray had put you in a bad place. What’s helped you to move forward? “I went right into the studio. I’ve been working non-stop, pouring all my energy into writing music, and nothing but good results have come from it. I am happy being (sic) the studio and am working on music because that’s my life-blood. We all have deaths in our family but you have to move on. [Pauses] It’s really hard for me to talk about Paul’s death…”

Do you ever feel Paul’s presence? “Oh yeah. I’ve been writing stuff since his death and he’s with me at all times. I will be sitting writing a riff, and I know the exact part where he is coming in. I almost talk to him, in a weird way.”

** As a tribute to Paul, Corey [Taylor, vocalist] got a tattoo of him on his leg. “I don’t have any tattoos but I have this. [Rolls up his left shirtsleeve to reveal two several inch-long scars on his shoulder]. After he died, I cut two lines [Paul Gray was Slipknot number 2] into my arm. He remains on my snare hand.”

** What do the lines represent? “That he’s with me at all times. I will never have tattoos, ever. I don’t put ink in my body. I am the only one in the band that doesn’t have them. I don’t want anyone putting my memory into my body but me. This will never go away. When I did it it cut pretty deep. Now, he is playing with me at all times.”

You have spoken about your life in Iowa, that you live in isolation. In your house there are no clocks, the windows are blacked out and you rarely answer the phone. To what extent has that changed? “I now have three cats: Mokey, Melvin and Murray [previously, Joey had Mokey], but nothing has changed. That part of me will always remain the same. It [that feeling] is even happening right now. When I walk out of this room [backstage at Melbourne’s Rod Laver Arena], I can’t stand it until I get behind my drums; that’s my safe zone. That’s where I feel at home, besides in my house with a guitar. I didn’t pick isolation – this is not a story piece, that’s fucking bullshit – It’s the way I am. I like things that I like and I stick to them. I’ve been like this since I was a kid.”

What do you think that’s about? “I don’t necessarily know. I guess I was so interested in music when I was a kid and was so engulfed by it that it was all I could think about. I was like, ‘This is what I want to do and this is my calling’. I knew what I wanted to do at a very, very young age, so I am very lucky in that respect. On tour, I have done the sightseeing and it is beautiful and I love that but if I want to see something I’ll got (sic) and see it. If I want to stay in my [hotel] room and listen to music… that is what I usually do. It just depends on my mood, which is a little different every day.”

You feel comfortable at home and behind the kit, but not so much in the places in between. “I can’t relate to too many people. When I was very young my grandma told me that if you have just one really close friend you should consider yourself lucky, and I still live to that rule, because honestly, you cannot hardly trust anyone. That’s why I termed the song ‘People = Shit’. I had that term on a t-shirt when we were a club band, way before we got signed.”

It seems like you don’t fit in. “I don’t. I have never been that person who goes out to try to make friends intentionally. I like to have a drink here [at the venue] and hang out with good people but I don’t go out anymore. I like hanging out with my family and my cats and my guitar. I am probably one of the only people who has a guitar in their bathroom. It’s there just in case when I have to go shit [Laughs], I have a cool idea. I always wake up with a riff, so when I have to go and do the morning thing, I play guitar while I’m doing it.”

Something might come of it… “A lot has come of it. [Laughs] I like taking baths. I’m not a shower guy too much. I love soaking in the bath and I get really good ideas there too. I like coming out and grabbing my guitar. Even if I write some of the craziest, fastest shit of the Slipknot catalogue, I am always at peace. I have to be at peace. I can never write anything unless I am at peace. That’s what’s good about having this sort of [musical] gift.

“I watch a lot of shows on the Discovery Channel about how things are made: it intrigues my brain. Some of the science stuff makes me feel a little stupid, but then I’m like, wait, what they (sic) hell are you talking about? They can’t do what I’m doing.”

Surely, you are in the wrong business [music] if you are looking for trust? “I can’t bitch about anything because I am very lucky, but luck has nothing to do with where I am right now. That luck shit can fuck right off. I work my fucking ass off to be like this. I did this to be true to myself and to my friends. Then you have all these assholes come in and they are like, ‘We can’t play a goddamn note but we learnt how to market a bunch of shit and collect off you’. I cannot stand one of them. Slipknot is a product of the shit we hate, and when we go out onstage it is vengeance.

“On the other hand, the maggots who come to our shows, I have something in common with each one of them: that’s how much they understand my music. Our music becomes their music. They give it right back to us and it gives us energy. I can see in kids’ eyes what we have done, what a movement we’ve created. Not many bands have done what we have.”

Last year Clown [Shawn Crahan, percussionist] told Terrorizer he wasn’t sure if he wanted to do Slipknot anymore. “I don’t believe that at all. Plus, there isn’t any shit that needs to be ‘repaired’, like there’s a rift between band members. We all do other stuff. There are no fights. We are getting along so well right now. The feeling is like it was in 1999, when we first came out. Corey and I understand each other more than we ever have. The thing is that we have never not gotten along; it’s the fucking press that turned us against each other. In fact, I brought Corey into Slipknot. Back then, no one even wanted him in the band.”

Why not? “At that time we were like an eccentric death metal circus act. It was great, but something was missing. I said to Clown that we needed to get Corey to sing for us. Shawn [Clown] is hardcore, he is the dad of our band and we respect his opinion. He was like, ‘Fuck no’, but said he liked Corey’s vocals. So myself, Mick [Thompson (sic), guitar] and Shawn went to the porn store where Corey used to work. When we arrived Corey was really nervous, like we were going to beat him up or something. Shawn went up to Corey and asked him if he wanted to try out and he freaked out.

“The next day he parked his car around the back of the studio – because we didn’t want anyone to know – and it was just me and Shawn. The first song he demoed was ‘Me Inside’. I sat next to Shawn and said, ‘Watch this shit, I know what’s going to happen’. Corey got to the chorus and Shawn looked at me and was like, ‘You were right’. Corey’s relationship with me has come full circle. We love each other very much.”

Right now, what binds Slipknot together? “We started to think, what if it [Slipknot] did go away, and realised how much the band meant to us. The songs mean more to me now than they ever have… remembering the crap we went through, all the stupid bickering and crap that never needed to happen. All of that has been weeded out and now it’s like we’ve been rebuilt, stronger than ever. Slipknot is a machine right.

“Our band is nine fucking extraordinary personalities, extreme, intense personalities, who live all over the place and yet we are still together, so fuck you. I would die for these guys. If I died onstage, I wouldn’t care. This is going to sound stupid, but it would be from my heart. It’s a fucking war onstage, it isn’t safe.”

Your temporary bass player [Donnie Steele] is out of view. Why? “The other guy [Donnie] is not allowed onstage, no fucking way. He is behind the stage and does a great job. We are nine people and we unfortunately lost one. But it doesn’t matter; we are still nine. We can never replace Paul, but that’s why I bought (sic) Donnie into the band. He was the first guitar who played before I came into the picture, when we were The Pale Ones. He is a really cool guy and very mellow.

“We haven’t decided on another bassist yet. We don’t want any marquee names or anything like that. It doesn’t make sense to bring anyone in from another band that’s huge. We want to keep it in the family, and he’s part of our family and it’s been great ever since.”

Will the next Slipknot album still be “the darkest one ever?” “It’s going to be dark no matter what. There ain’t no changing that fucking statement.”

How much darker than ‘Iowa’ can you go? “That’s up to us. So far, I’ve written and recorded 40 songs.”

Is there a song about Paul? “Yes, my working title is ‘Gray’.”

Have you been working with the other guys or by yourself? “To tell you the truth, it’s just been me. Everyone is writing stuff, but people want to do other projects [Corey Taylor and Jim Root and (sic) working on a new Stone Sour album. Clown has released a photography book], and so I’m writing alone until we can all come together. Then we can start playing and go from there. That’s how we wrote, ‘Prelude’, ‘The Blister Exists’, it’s how we start a lot of songs.”

With the next album, what is the journey you wish to take the listener on? “This will be our deepest, most celebrated record. The journey is that we are trying to live our lives, just like everyone else is trying to live theirs’. We all have weird shit in our lives and a lot of our songs reflect that. On the next record we will be exorcising, getting out a lot of the crap out that I think personally, we have held in too much, against each other.”

What sort of emotions will come out? “Both positive and negative. Jealousy? That doesn’t exist in this band. That is the worst emotion; it kills people. You know who fucking does that? It’s the press, and it just pisses us off. People [journalists] keep putting words in our mouth. If they want to keep doing it, keep doing it, because it’s pissing us off right now. Everyone on the outside – journalists, business manager, accountant – this album will be the worst in terms of ‘fuck you’. ‘Iowa’ was kind of playful. This one, as far as emotions go, is going to connect with everyone way more than any of our others.”

Where do you see Slipknot evolving from here? “Slipknot can do two things: either leave the legacy where it is now or cut everything that’s been before and take it even further. That’s where my mindset is at. I can only see it getting even bigger.”

In the early 2000s, Clown had stage props of cow heads on spikes. What is the most shocking thing Slipknot has done? “We never look to shock anyone. If it’s shocking to some people, then I guess you can call it shock but that was never the intent. That’s just Shawn being Shawn. We used to go down to the meat packing plant [in Des Moines] and were really intrigued by the smell of dead animals. We’d just sit there and gawk at them. We just liked the fucking smell of it. No matter how pungent or grotesque.

“Bringing that type of stuff out was part of the ‘Iowa’ cycle and it made sense then. I don’t think it makes sense now. The thing about that is you never know what we are going to do tonight. I don’t know what the rest of them are doing (sic) to do; they don’t have to know what I am going to do. We don’t have structure. Ours is no choreographed shit.”

You’ve been doing Slipknot for almost 20 years. To what extent have you mellowed? “Not at all. I’m still punk rock. I will travel in a van; I don’t care. It doesn’t matter to me: trains, buses, planes, whatever, I’ll get there. As long as I have my leather jacket and maybe a toothbrush, throw me in a fucking corner and I’ll sleep there. I don’t give a fuck.”

Slipknot must have made a lot of money. Looking at you, you’d never know it, as you are in no way ostentatious. “To tell you the truth, I have no fucking clue about it. [Laughs] It’s there, but money and all that shit doesn’t register with me. I don’t calculate it. Maybe it’s stupid but I don’t give a fuck about money, which is maybe why I’ve been ripped off in the past, but I just don’t care. Money is bullshit to me. I hate it. It’s an evil fucking thing. It controls the world and that’s why I don’t like it. With our band, it was never about that and it still isn’t. The last thing we think about is that. But if there is money to be made, of course we want to make it and not get ripped off.

“When we were starting we thought maybe we’d sell 30,000 records. Even getting signed was weird. When someone says, ‘You need to get business smart’, I’m like, fuck all that. I am still that little punk rock kid. That little kid that was in his basement playing drums, blast-beating and learning all this shit from the bands I grew up listening to.”

What does your number [1] mean to you? “Now it doesn’t really mean much. When we started it was an idea and I am number one for a reason. I was that number because I am the base of the band, the rhythm section, its glue. I don’t really look it at (sic) much anyone (sic), I try to think of us by our names, but I’m glad to still have that number.”

In 2000 you let my 15-year-old socially awkward nephew watch Slipknot from the side of the stage [in Melbourne, Australia]. 12 years later as his mother was dying of cancer, he recalled how much that meant to him. And how you looked after him. “That means a lot to me. [Pauses] I’m glad he had that outlet [Slipknot] because that’s what I needed when I was young. I needed it because I was an outcast. I don’t have many friends and I don’t want them: that is my sickness. The ones that I have are the guys in my band; they are my brothers. They would do anything for me.

“When I was young… that’s why I was so attracted to music. Everyone else was into sport and extra curricular activities and so I was the misfit. Music just felt safe. It spoke to me so loudly that it made everything seem clear – nothing else at that time did. In a weird way, it almost chose me. The demon grabbed me by the throat and put me on a mantle and said, ‘This is what you are going to do’. I have been stuck there ever since. [Laughs] It’s not a bad place to be. It makes me comfortable and keeps me warm.”

‘Antennas To Hell’ is out on July 16 on Roadrunner www.Slipknot1.com

Joey on:

Watain “They are the real deal, man. I think [frontman] Erik Danielsson is in the top 3 black metal singers of all time. That guy’s voice is pure. Watching them, people want to do the whole pit thing, but I am the opposite, I find it relaxing. It’s weird. The blood they put on, that’s real. They are coming to Iowa, so I will probably be in the front row, being a fan boy.”

Burzum “I loved ‘From The Depths Of Darkness’ [2011]. A lot of people focus on the murder [of Euronymous], but I look beyond that, to his music. I don’t condone murder, but I’m like, ‘Get over that and listen to this shit’. The Count is about as dark as you get and I totally love everything he has done. I haven’t met him, but he’s definitely one of the people I’d love to meet.”

Marilyn Manson “I met him a long time ago and we became friends after that. What I like about him more than anything is that you never know what’s coming. He is unpredictable and that is punk rock. That to me is true fucking art. I think that’s why him and me really connected. He gets me and I get him too. I haven’t talked to him for a while, but he’s always been nice to me.”

[drc00l4tt4]

Melvinborg x reader, where the reader says they're going out to a Halloween party and wants to show Melvinborg the costume they're gonna wear, but the costume is like a playboy bunny costume. it can be smut if you want. (obviously the reader wasn't going to wear that to the party but they wanted to tease Melvinborg.)

I like this one. I like this one very much :3 , didn't end up doing smut since I wanted to post something sooner rather than later, but it did end with a lead up to that <3

"I really don't understand why you're going to a halloween party." Your husband, Melvinborg, huffed. "It's childish, really."

You sighed, "I'm going because my family member is hosting it, Melvin. I promise I'll be back at a reasonable hour." You gently kissed his cheek, which seemed to soften him slightly. "It's still childish." He grumbled. "And you're still no fun." You teased, giving him a nuzzle before retreating to your room.

"I want to show you the costume before I leave, figured you'd give the best advice since you're so honest." You called out, looking for the appropriate costume that you'd picked out to wear. "Of course," Melvin called back from the livingroom, "I always give the best advice."

While sifting through your clothes, you found something that grabbed your attention. You'd bought it a while back, planned to wear it for a personal, private event with Melvin, but never got around to it. Being the tease you were, you decided to put it on, if only to see your husband's reaction to such a revealing outfit.

The headband fit just right, of course, but you were having a bit of trouble with the leggings. After a few minutes, you managed to get everything on. You looked in a mirror, twirling, and thought you looked great.

"Costumes on." You called out, preparing to walk out into the livingroom.

"Took you long enough." Melvin ever-so-lovingly called back.

After a moment of hesitation, you walked out.

You heard Melvin choke on air—though he played it off as him clearing his throat—and he sharply inhaled. "I.. am assuming you're not actually wearing this?" He asked. Damn it, you wanted more of a reaction than that.. maybe you had to provoke him more to get one.

"No, but I did get this for you." You admitted, walking over to him in a strut. He tugged on the collar of his shirt, finding it difficult to breathe. "For- For me?" He asked. You simply nodded, walking closer to him.

"Why would you—" He cut himself off with a sharp inhale as he felt your hands on his chest. You were so close to him, his head felt like it was spinning. "Why are you so tense?" You teased, watching his face turn a light shade of red (the human side, anyway.)

His lips twitched, as he'd go to say something before ultimately staying silent. "You're easy to fluster." You teased further, letting your hands trail down from his chest to his abdomen. "I- That's not true, there is nothing easy about what you're doing—" He stammered.

"But you admit you're flustered?" You asked, looking amused. Melvin huffed, "I never admitted that." You hummed.. then slowly trailed your hands lower.

Melvin let out a squeak before grabbing your wrists, holding them against your chest. "Stop that." He tried to sound assertive, but his voice wavered. "But why?" You whined, pouting. You watched his face go from stern to flustered, and then back to stern. He was breaking, you could tell.

"Because you- I-" He stuttered.. before he sighed, "Y'know what? Fine." Using his grip on your wrists, he pulled you to the couch and had you lay down. He pinned your hands above your head.

"If you want to tease so bad, you can face the consequences."

Reqs are open! | Comms

[misterfeller]

the cryptic asks are fun :)

you'll never know who i am

mainly because we're not mutuals and i dont follow anyone, so i'm invisible to you

so uh

you can call me whatever you want

ohhh okay!!!! i thought you would be one of my mutuals. you kind of remind me of faggot mouse. i am okay with more cryptic asks this is so fun yay! deciding what to call you is going to be really hard bc i barely know anything about you. i have this stupid thing in my phone where it gives me cats and i name them. maybe you could look through them and see if any names feel like you. i would put screenshots of all the names here but there would be too many. i will copy and paste some for you. under the cut bc there are 5 million even with some taken out

a kiss without the moustache is like an egg without salt

agate

al crane

alabaster

alberta

aldebaran

alexandra vondude

alfie

alma

andromeda

aphid

arnold babatunji

arthur

aziraphale

baas kwaadwillig

bat masterson

bcos

beach ball

bebop

betty

beverly

big audrey

big louise

billy brown

billy the phantom bellboy

birdie

blubbert

blynken

bobby

bobo botn

bora karaca

bruce bunyip

cab calloway

captain buffalo birnbaum

carl azuz

cassiopeia

catskills

catsup

chase

chick the cherub

chicken nancy

chris harrington

clarinda quackenboss

clive montague

colonel ken krenwinkle

copper

cordelia

crowley

d'artagnan

dandelion

darlin companion

davy

davy jones

dawn

deady bye bye

dinner

dionne

dirty bobby

doris

dot

dr. charlotte

electric larry

elizabeth van vreemdeling

elizatryst

erlking

eunice

fancy

fats waller

flapsur

flop

flossie

floyd

flying saucer

ford

found

francine

francis

frankanon

frosted mini spooners

fuffy

ganymede

gee wilikers

gizmodgery

gladys

gloopy

gnash

go to bed

good

goopy bloppy drippy sparkly

gradene

gwendolyn marshrat

hammersmith odeon

harold boonstangle

her majesty

hergeschleimer

hootenanny

horatius birnbaum

hot dog supper

ichabod

iggy birnbaum

irving

japonica

jason

jaws

juno

jurgen leitner

k spar

kitty nebelstreif

leitmotif

little bunny foo foo

live at the beeb

lola

louis

lullabye

mab

magic

maple leaf rag

marlon

mary

matches

maurice

melvin

meowy

milk

millicent

minnie the moocher

molly o'malley

moly b. denum

molybdenum

monkberry moon delight

mr bloodvessel

mr moon

mr moonlight

mr. plumbean

mrs. wimpydimple

ms. magistra

muffin man

nash

neddie wentworthstein

nick bluegum

nod

odds bodkins

nick bluegum

nod

odds bodkins

opal

orion

orthoclase feldspar

pajama

paloma

pearl

peppernut

percy "thrills" thrillington

peterkins

pickled pepper

pierre

pizza pie

plagioclase feldspar

pleistocene

polly pocket

potassium feldspar

povitica

prairiedog birnbaum

presyncope

prime meridian

professor tag

rex the wonder horse

ricky

rip van winkle

roberta

roger van tussenvuxel

ronnie wolfspit

rural

sadie

sally

samuel klugarsh

sandor eucalyptus

sargent caleb

satin spar

scarecrow

seamus finn

serutan yob

shangri-la

sheridan

sholmos bunyip

sinister

smokey joe

sorghum

space station level 7

sparkle

spookhuizen

sporty

stella octangula

steve craft

strega nona

suzie bunny boo boo

sweetie

syncope

the baritone buckaroo

thine

time machine

topsy

tough bananas

uncle borgel

valentine

wah watusi

wallace

wanda

weer

wendell

whorlygig

wicked anabella

wing ding

winnifred

wolluf

woofy davis

woopty doo

wynken

yggdrasil birnbaum

zaphod beeblebrox

zooxanthellae

[wooglebear]

I'm Not You: A story about perspective

Why I made the fic

This was my first fanfic for the tetocu fandom (unless you count the ones I started on Wattpad/Quotev that I never finished and eventually abandoned).

And I am PROUD of it! The above is a trailer I made for season 3 in this universe. In hindsight, there are some things I probably should have done differently, but it's okay. Nobody is perfect.

@n4talia-chaparro told me it's a good fic, and I believe them XP. I posted all this exclusively onto ao3. So this is a summary of the AU! Spoilers start here.

The Butterfly Effect

The change that kicks off I'm Not You is small. Melvin chooses to spare Melvinborg, and he goes to season 3. He tries to convince George and Harold that this is a bad idea, but they don't listen, and he is dragged to camp.

Chapter 1

George and Harold arrive at the same camp, but their hopes and dreams are cut short when Mr. Krupp (who is the camp director) splits the camp into Camp Lake Summer Camp (George) and Lake Summer Camp Camp (Harold) to afford an $80,000 LeisureMyLand inflatable private island. He puts a fence in between George and Harold, as he hopes to turn the boys against each other. When George and Harold make a comic without each other, war begins. Both camps create the Balloonatic and Camplifire, but when their advances go wrong, it's time for Captain Underpants!

Unbeknownst to them, Melvinborg is onto the boys (I didn't put it in the fic)

At the end of the chapter, Mr. Krupp puts a brick wall between them, revealing that Melvin informed him about their trick, which still makes Harold and George stay at separate camps whether they like it or not. And Melvinborg compares the situation to Trump's wall.

Chapter 2

This chapter had, if I recall correctly, the best line I ever wrote:

Onto the chapter: Sick of Krupp's wall, Melvinborg ends up starting a food fight, and he gets into trouble with Krupp. As a result, Krupp puts Melvin and Melvinborg on different nature walks. Not too surprisingly, Melvinborg is very pissed at Krupp afterwards.

Little does Melvinborg know that George and Harold made a possum smart, which was part of the plan to put them in the same camp. But when Ragely J. Snarlingtooth (the possum) turns against them and turns the children at camp into servants, which Melvinborg is unsurprisingly confused by, it's time for Captain Underpants and three more extra smart animals (a raccoon, snake, and water buffalo), who make the Advancimals (a show introduced in The Preposterous Pulverizing of the Pestering Poopacabra)!

Chapter 3

Mr. Krupp doesn’t want his photo shoot with the Federation of United National Camps (The F.U.N.C.) to be ruined, so he sends the noisy kids — and the Melvins — climbing up a snowy mountain to get them out of his hair (and motivating them with a Mystery Box most of the kids think has junk inside, but Melvin thinks it has Doopity the Dancing Dolphin, Melvinborg thinks it has a university degree of all things and Jessica thinks it has another Sophie). When they encounter a long-lost explorer that inexplicably turns into a rumored abominable snowman called Altitooth, Captain Underpants comes to town! Also, the Melvins suffer an avalanche.

This chapter had one of the best fourth wall jokes in the fic:

Chapter 4

As you can clearly see in chapter 2, this chapter was where Krupp started to mess with the Melvins as revenge for what happened in season 2. He started by putting shock collars on them. The episode mostly plays the same way as canon, but Captain Underpants punches Melvinborg.

Chapter 5

After Melvin and Melvinborg get covered in algae, Melvinborg creates a dream catcher. But of course, Melvin takes them all to the dream dimension.

Since Melvinborg was holding onto the dream catcher, he discovers he has some extent of control over the dream dimension of George and Harold. They proceed to have fun. Save for Melvin, who doesn't give a shit about this dimension and wants out. And Melvinborg internally hates the place. This was @n4talia-chaparro's second favorite line btw:

So, Melvin and Melvinborg trick Harold into making his worst nightmare, Melvinathan. Melvinborg, rather stupidly, attacks, only to be eaten and nearly killed by Melvinathan. And then the kids ditch him and Melvin.

Since Melvinborg is still here, he gets them both out.

Chapter 6

Melvinborg meets Gavin, his rich version. He's not happy. Another episode that's mostly the same as canon. Not much here.

Chapter 7

This episode goes mostly the same way as canon, but just with the Melvins there.

It was rather inconsistent how Melvin didn't have a role in this episode, so I changed it.

Anyways, in this episode, Melvinborg gets brainwashed. He says it reminds him of the Sinister Splotch, and he's unaware through the rest of the chapter. You know, this scene:

Eventually, he gets unbrainwashed, and the Melvins get shot with paintballs.

Chapter 8

This chapter was so intense to write.

Melvinborg died in this one. He did come back, and he got turned into stone and shattered, but still…

This episode is mostly the same, but Melvinborg is present. And yes, he does get "bored stiff". This chapter is important though.

Chapter 9

Another episode that goes mostly the same way as canon.

Melvinborg's story is a recap of the Harmful Horrors of the Harrowing Hiveschool. You know, the episode where this happens:

Anyways, Melvin and Melvin-Borg suffer a near death experience in this chapter, but Krupp saves them. And then Melvin gets caged, and Melvinborg gets experimented on.

And then Melvinborg gets chased by a skunk.

Chapter 10

This episode is basically the canon episode 10, but I added Melvinborg.

His part of the story features a balant self -insert called "Devin", and it's drawn in 8 bit style.

This also had @n4talia-chaparro's favorite line.

Chapter 11-13

Grouping the chapters together, because the wiki says that season 3 has a three part finale in all but name.

These three chapters also play out the same as canon.

Melvinborg becomes part of the MISFARTS, given the rather snappy nickname of College Melvin, and gets a pure black baseball cap on. This slight wardrobe change is permanent.

Melvinborg discovers a new talent, and even stands up to his past self with a reason you suck speech. However, he's still a villain, and the fic ends with him wanting to get revenge against George and Harold for making him a student.

Wrap up

Writing this AU was a blast.

I don't plan on making a fic for this universe's season 4, but I wrote an outline on how it would go. And I'm not planning on making a fanfic for this universe's anything else after TETOCU season 3….

BTW, my least favorite chapter is chapter 4 (technically chapter 3 if you don't count the prologue).

[kissorkill16]

Schizophrenia: A Lorax Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: The Lorax finds out something interesting about The Onceler.

It was a beautiful day in Truffula Valley, and the Onceler was just getting his wagon ready. Why? Because he was going grocery shopping. He had his list, and off he was.

"Nice day, isn't it?"

The Onceler jumped when he heard that voice, he didn't know that this furry meatloaf was in his wagon. If he did, he would've thrown him out.

"What're you doing here?"

"I just noticed you were going into that human town again and I decided to go with you this time."

The Onceler felt his stomach drop. There's no way he was going to be seen in public with this little nuisance!

"You can't come with me!"

"Why not?"

"Because you just can't!"

"What? Afraid I'll embarrass you?"

"Yes!"

The Lorax just rolled his eyes and hopped to the front seat, not at all phased by the Onceler's outburst. "I promise I'll behave, beanpole.", he said. The Onceler rolled his eyes, not at all believing anything he said, but he reluctantly gave in.

"Fine, you can come. Just don't let anyone else see you."

The Lorax looked to the ground, "Oh that won't be a problem."

When the two got to the grocery store, the Onceler went straight to the dairy section and started looking for milk. Then he went to the meat section for turkey, bacon, steak, and chicken. Then he went to find eggs, strawberries, oranges, bananas, grapes, wine, juice, and of course, his personal favorite, marshmallows. When he was finished, he paid for his groceries, and took them back to his wagon. But when he went back, he noticed that the Lorax was missing.

"Melvin, where'd he go?"

The mule pointed his head to the store.

"You have got to be kidding me, I SPECIFICALLY SAID DON'T LET PEOPLE SEE YOU!"

The Onceler ran back into the store, and bumped into someone along the way.

"Excuse me, sir, but have you seen a small furry orange thing anywhere around here?"

The man just looked at him blankly, "No.", then he just left.

The Onceler ran all around the store, trying to find that annoying furry meatloaf, and asking so many people if they've seen him. Unfortunately, everyone he asked didn't know what he was talking about, and just looked at him like he was crazy.

"Excuse me, mister."

The Onceler turned around to see a little girl, not just any little girl, the same girl who broke his guitar once.

"What do you want?"

"Are you looking for something orange and furry?"

The Onceler's eyes lit up, "YES! YES I AM, WHERE IS HE?"

"He's by the book section."

The Onceler charged towards the book section, and finally found the Lorax, scrolling through children's books.

"Enjoying yourself, Moustache?"

"Very much."

"Well, I want to go home, and I don't want to have to explain to the animals why you're not there. So come on."

The Onceler picked the Lorax up by his waist, about to walk out of the store when someone caught up with him and put a hand on his waist.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because you're clutching your chest."

The Onceler was confused. "I'm not clutching my chest, I'm carrying something."

"No you're not, I don't see anything there."

The Onceler's face turned pale. Oh no, not again. Please not again, he thought. "So you don't see anything in my hand?"

"No, sir."

The Onceler put down the Lorax and told the person that he was just feeling a little under the weather.

After that, the Lorax felt a little worried for the tall fella. Maybe it was his fault the whole incident happened, he decided to confront him about it. He ran up to his house and climbed up the window, and he saw the Onceler was filling a glass of water and took out a small white can.

"Beanpole-"

The Onceler held up a finger, shushing the Lorax mid sentence. What the Lorax didn't expect next was for him to take a fork, and stab his own hand with it, unleashing a blood curling scream.

"Jeez, what'd you do that to yourself for?"

"Just making sure you're there."

The Lorax just looked at him, puzzled. "Kid, what're you talking about, of course I'm here. You can see me, can't you?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Kid, I'm right here, and what's with the white can?"

"They're called pills. It's a type of medicine, humans use it to keep themselves in shape."

The Lorax still didn't get it. "Why would you need something like that? You're already in shape."

The Onceler sighed, but he began explaining. "I have a condition called schizophrenia, it's something where you can see things that no one else can. I was diagnosed with it when I was 11. I was just giving Melvin a bath, and I thought I heard him talking, I heard him say how he likes it when I give him a bath, and I was speechless, and over the moon. I ran to my brothers and told them what happened, but when they went to see Melvin, they didn't know what I was talking about. They told my mom what happened, and we went to the doctor. The doctor diagnosed me with schizophrenia, and said that I needed to take pills to keep it under control. I've been taking these pills ever since."

The Lorax looked like he'd seen a ghost. He never knew that this kid had to go through stuff like this, people thinking he's gone mad when he can see things no one else can. It made him sad.

"I don't think your schizophrenia is the problem."

The Onceler stayed silent as he waited for the Lorax to explain.

"Long ago, I was an almighty among humans, back then when people could see me. They graced me with offerings, wrote me songs, and prayed to me as if I were a god. But back then, I didn't trust humans, I saw them all as selfish, entitled, lazy, worthless slugs. I made that very clear one day, and they stopped giving me offerings, and they stopped believing in me altogether, then they lost their ability to see me. Since then, it has been declared that only the ones who have a deep connection with nature shall be able to see the almighty Lorax.

The Lorax looked up to see the Onceler, his eyes welling up with tears, and it looked like he'd already swallowed his pill. Without warning, he pulled the little guy into a big hug.

"That must've been hard for you."

"Yes, it was. But I've gotten over it, so no need to worry."

The Lorax realized something.

He realized that even though the Onceler was irrationally optimistic, a little self-centered, cocky, and not so smart, he was still into nature. After all, he did grow up on a farm, and he was best friends with a mule, and had all of the animals in Truffula Valley wrapped around his finger, so it made some sense that he was able to see him.

[j-graysonlibrary]

Heartbeats; Paradise Chapter 1

Title: Heartbeats; Paradise

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 112K

Genres: Psychological thriller, drama, sci-fi, LGBT+

Available on: Kobo and my website

Synopsis: Melvin Hardy and Kade Axel appear to be a match made in heaven. After a meet-cute in the rain, the two quickly find themselves in a burgeoning, wholesome relationship.

Yet, things feel…off. It isn’t the ghosts of their pasts that resurface to test the strength of their partnership—no—it’s something nebulous. Something indescribable. Melvin can’t put his finger on it but, the more time he spends with Kade, the more he starts to wonder what’s real and what’s pure fiction.  

Full chapter 1 under the cut:

Chapter One:

The sun sets.

I adjust the rod of my umbrella, cursing under my breath at the stiffness of the thing due to a long period of inactivity. It hardly ever rains here but I always carry the umbrella with me. Just in case.

Many of my colleagues rush past me, braving the drizzle before the storm really hits. They can have fun getting wet but I’m wearing one of my more expensive jackets. Probably not the best idea, in retrospect, to wear my designer suit on an overcast Thursday but I had needed some sort of pick-me-up this morning. And that just so happened to be dressing nicer to motivate myself to get to work.

My umbrella finally releases and the fabric pops open before me. I raise it above my head and step out from beneath the overhang.

With my apartment a few blocks away, I have time to think about what I’ll make for dinner as I walk. I wouldn’t say I’m a good cook but I have some staples under my belt—a necessity born from living on one’s own. A large portion of my meals may come premade but I still add a pinch of seasoning or a twist here and there. There are definitely some microwave dinners in my freezer which, at the rate this day is going, will probably be my answer.

After that, I think I’ll pour myself a glass of wine and relax some. It’s not the end of the week yet but it is close so letting loose, or, as loose as I allow myself to get, isn’t a bad idea. I’ll avoid the news stations and search for something more relaxing on the TV and, if not relaxing then at least mind numbing.

I could check my personal e-mail as well, I consider as the clouds darken and the rain pours down in sheets. The thumping against my umbrella lets me know they are big droplets and I’m even gladder that I always carry the thing with me. My mind quickly bounces back to my after-work agenda and I think of the possibility that my mother might have sent me something. It was my twenty-sixth birthday not too long ago and I have not checked my e-mail for a time.

I sigh instinctively when the woman comes to mind. She would probably have sent something vague and/or generic if she sent anything at all. With, perhaps, a slight passive-aggressive note on the state of my love life.

There is a far off rumble of thunder as the rain rages even harder and I’m forced to slow down next to a bus stop. My glasses are fogging and I have to either take them off or wipe them clean. I attempt to hold my umbrella in the crook of my elbow while I fish out my glasses case from my pocket.

I whip out the small cloth and run it quickly over the glass—it isn’t perfect but at least I can see in front of me again. I’ll clean them more thoroughly once I get home.

I check the road, finding little traffic between me and the pavement across the street where my path continues. There aren’t a lot of cars in town or, at least, there aren’t a lot of reasons to drive them. I, myself, have a car but it’s more out of want than need. My commute to work can easily be done on foot and more places in town can be reached by a bus or on bike.

Though I am sure the poor soul across the street wishes they hadn’t taken their bike out today. They have no coverage and the rain beats down on them without mercy.

As I rush over the crosswalk I notice something even more unfortunate. Their front wheel is loose and there is no way the bike is useable anymore unless the rider is less than fifty pounds. And, while they may seem petite, I doubt they’re that light.

I step onto the sidewalk and my presence alerts them. Their head rises, facing the rain, to look up at me and the world at large freezes.

Even if we aren’t the only two people on the sidewalk, it certainly does feel that way.

It’s hard to tell what gender they are but I do know one thing for certain—they are beautiful. Their hair, wet and heavy, falls past their shoulders and their eyes shine with the light of the nearby streetlamp. A pair of gorgeous blue-green irises, like the Mediterranean Sea, stares into me and I am struck by a feeling foreign to me.

“I could fix that,” I say without meaning to. While it might be true that I can fix their bike, I usually wouldn’t approach a stranger in such a way. Normally, I would think on how unlucky they were and continue my trip home but I am mesmerized by their face and I can’t seem to control myself any longer.

“You can?” They ask with a lower, almost boyish voice. Their eyes, somehow, get bigger at the prospect and their lips curl into a smile. Their pink, full lips that compliment the shape of their face as if they were created with the intent to ensnare me…

I nod eagerly. “I have a model similar to that so I have some spare parts.” I then realize what helping them entails and I worry they will be frightened by the idea. “I…it’s all at my apartment though. Are you okay with that?”

“Sure!” That brightness doesn’t fade and they look even more excited about the situation.

I lean my umbrella over their head and shield them from any more rain though they are already quite soaked. I keep my eyes on their face rather than the white shirt that clings to their body.

“Oh…thank you,” they remark cutely and inch closer. “I don’t want to get your nice coat wet though…”

“It’s alright,” I let them know, “I can get it dry cleaned over the weekend if needed.”

I keep the umbrella over us though my right arm is left out to get wet as well as some of my right side in general. My new companion drags their bike along and the rain becomes our soundtrack as we walk to my apartment, alone on the sidewalk. Even the volume of cars slows to nearly none as we get closer.

“So…” my company speaks up as if to fill the silence but maybe they are uncomfortable about long pauses. “Can I ask your name? I don’t want to keep having to refer to you as ‘handsome stranger’ in my head.”

We share a chuckle but I do feel my cheeks grow warm. This beautiful person finds me attractive as well? The odds maybe aren’t that bad since many people have commented on my looks before but still…it is a wonderful feeling.

“I’m Melvin Hardy.” I glance away, unbelievably shy at the exchange but I hope to hide it well. My heart is beating as if to leave my chest and my head is spinning just from this little bit of interaction. Just as I am ready to hear who it is I’ve become enamored with, I remember. While I feel it is obvious with one look that I am a man, I still say out of politeness, “Oh, and my pronouns are he/him.”

“Mine too!” he replies with a bounce in his step. “My name’s Kade. Kade Axel.”

So perfection has a name and it’s Kade Axel, I think. Somehow, I feel I already knew it but I’m happy to be told.

We come upon my apartment complex and I quickly lead Kade to the stairs where I can finally remove the umbrella. I shake it off and fold it back into it’s compact form while, at my side, Kade props his bike against the bricks under the stairs.

“My apartment is upstairs,” I tell him, “I hope I have a spare part…if not, you can just borrow my bike.” I add the last part and point to the bike nearby.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t.” Kade shakes his head and raises his hands in protest.

“Only if I can’t fix yours.” I offer a smile. Plus, I add mentally, if he borrows something of mine, he’ll have to come back to see me.

“Well…okay.” He bites his lip, pulling both the skin and my attention.

I have to snap myself out of it and lead the way up. I’m relieved, momentarily, that I cleaned not too long ago. Though, to be honest (and a little proud) my place never gets too dirty anyway.

I allow Kade inside first and I shut the door after us, turning only the deadbolt lock. My part of town isn’t dangerous though I can’t say any part of town really is. People truly keep to themselves here.

“I have a hair dryer if you need it,” I say when I notice Kade fussing with his wet hair. He looks genuinely upset to have tracked so much water into my home. And, if it were anyone else, I might be irritated but it also isn’t his fault he’s soaked. “…And dry clothes too…though they might be a bit big.”

A pink blush rises to his pale cheeks and my heart swells at the sight. Kade brings his hands together in front of his chest and asks, “Are you sure that’s okay? I feel like I—”

I don’t let him finish. “It’s alright. Really.”

He still looks a bit bashful but he agrees to take some of my old sweats and dry out his hair. Before he shuts himself away in the hall bathroom, I ask,

“Do you have any food allergies? I’ll make dinner while you’re in here.”

“Y-you really don’t have to.” He flushes even more and part of me wants to continuously offer him things to see just how flustered he can get.

But, I restrain myself. “Well, if you’re getting dry then you don’t need to go out in the rain until it’s slowed down at least. And, if that takes a while, you shouldn’t go hungry. I was going to make myself dinner anyway…what’s an extra serving?”

His stunning eyes blink a few times and his brow furrows together, forming only one, small crease between them. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Well that’s a loaded question. I can’t even be sure myself and saying ‘you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen’ already sounds creepy in my head—I can’t even imagine how it’ll sound coming out of my mouth. But if I say that he was in need and I help those in need I’ll be lying.

I open and close my mouth a few times before still, sort of, lying, “I’m not sure.”

Kade clearly isn’t expecting that as his eyes bulge and he steps back. “You…you don’t know?”

“It was an impulse,” that is a little more truthful at least, “Once I saw you there, I couldn’t leave you.”

This response brings his blush back and he avoids my eyes. Such a shame as I’ve found my new hobby in staring into his lovely irises.

“Well…t-thanks. I don’t have any food allergies, by the way. I’ll eat whatever you make.”

I leave him to head to the kitchen, worrying that I still, maybe, laid things on a bit thick. I adjust my glasses and then take them off entirely. My vision is a little blurry without them but I know my kitchen and pantry well enough to navigate it partly blind.

I settle on a simple rice dish and, while everything is cooking, I take the time to properly clean my glasses. In a way, I’m almost scared to see Kade without the streaks and water droplets in the way. How could he possibly be more gorgeous? And will I be able to handle it?

As I worry about possibly making a fool of myself even more than I already have, I check my hall closet to see if I have the parts Kade needs for his bike. I do, thankfully, but that also takes away his reason for coming back. Though, if I let him leave with my old clothes then that could be something?

I grumble to myself at how desperate I am. If Kade doesn’t want to see me again, it’s within his rights to. Just because I’m completely taken with him doesn’t mean he’s obligated to hang around. I’d be no better than a love struck teenager if I think otherwise.

Dinner is ready so I turn my focus to setting the table and making the meal look as presentable as possible. I’m slightly frustrated at myself for not asking what Kade wants to drink but I hope he’ll be alright with a glass of water.

I sit at the small table that straddles both the kitchen and the living room and I wait for a few more minutes. Maybe his hair takes some time to dry? It is quite long after all. I think on it and begin to feel anxious. There is no direction or cue so I simply wait a bit longer.

Finally, Kade emerges from the hall. He’s all but lost in my sweats but that makes him, painfully, even more adorable. His hair is shorter and blonder now that it’s dried, though it still brushes against his shoulders and looks so soft to the touch. He pulls the sleeves up on the shirt and his pace picks up when he sees the table. “Sorry I took a while—I had to call my sister.”

“Oh…no problem.” I swallow the nerves down and glance from him to the food as my mind whirls with questions and prompts. “…Do you live with your sister?” I settle on.

“I do,” he responds quickly and gets comfortable in his chair. “She’s letting me stay with her while I finish college and I help out at her café as payment.”

Finish college…he’s at least twenty-two in that case. Unless he graduated high school early, of course. He could also be older if he took a gap year or simply waited to go. It is hard to tell his age by his face as it’s so smooth and young looking—unlike me who has always looked like a grown man since middle school.

“That’s sweet of her,” I respond and urge him to eat with a simple hand gesture. After he takes a bite, I risk sounding like a creep to ask, “What café?”

Kade smiles and swallows before answering, “It’s actually the one right down the block from where we met today. Back the direction you came from.”

“Caramel café?” I question with doubt but Kade nods in confirmation. “I go there on my breaks all the time…I’ve never seen you.” If I had, I’d definitely remember.

But he laughs, covering his mouth and hiding his face. “I…it’s a new thing. I just started this past week.”

“Oh…I haven’t been this week.” I feel slightly embarrassed by my mini-outburst. I clear my throat and change topics, “So, what are you in school for?”

“Psychology,” Kade says as he drops his hand. He seems comfortable talking about this so I think it’s probably something he’s passionate about. After he takes another bite of dinner, he continues, “I want to be a grief counselor.”

“Wow.” I’m a bit taken aback. I had not expected something like that. “That’s a tough job.”

“But necessary,” he responds and, as swiftly as I had, he shifts the question onto me, “So what do you do, Melvin?”

“Nine to five office work. I got my degree in business so I went straight into the grind.” It’s boring to do and even more so to talk about.

Lucky for us, mother nature also wishes to move on from the topic. A loud crash of thunder shakes the building and a flash of lightning illuminates the room.

Kade jumps. “I guess I’m not heading out anytime soon…”

I shake my head. “You can crash on my couch if you want. I don’t mind.”

He smiles and pokes at the remainder of his food with his fork. “…You’re so nice. I’m almost waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

I raise one of my eyebrows. Does he think I’m hiding some horrible secret? Or that I’m really out to get him? I can’t exactly blame him with how odd the circumstances are and I truly do have no reason to be going out of my way to help.

“I’m not really a serial killer, I promise,” I say with a smirk, breaking some of the tension.

Kade laughs and shakes his head. “Well, I wasn’t thinking that…exactly. There just…there must be a downside to you. No way you can be so perfect. Handsome, nice, good cook, considerate, good and stable job…”

I’m thrown off guard. He had called me handsome before but I did not expecting to hear it again. “You like dinner then?” I decide to focus on that instead.

He chuckles again. “Yeah. It’s really good.”

Thunder crashes once more and I nearly jump myself this time. I use the shot of adrenaline to stand and collect our now empty plates. “Thank you,” I respond, “after I wash the dishes, I’ll grab you some blankets for the couch.”

I dip into the kitchen and quickly wash up, not wanting to leave Kade by himself for too long. My heart beats faster at the mere thought of him and I’m almost scared of how I’ll feel when he’s gone. This new cacophony of emotions can’t simply disappear, can it?

“Um…Melvin?”

His sweet voice spins me around and I take him all in. He truly is beautiful and more than a little cute bundled up in my clothes and nervously scratching at the side of his face.

“Yes?” I ask with a hitch in my voice.

He doesn’t notice or he doesn’t say anything about it at least. Instead, he starts to smile and he meets my eyes. “Thank you.”

It’s so honest and so warm that it fills my chest with a fuzzy, comforting sensation.

I don’t want him to leave.

[jodithann827]

Pretty Woman 6/11

Rating: Explicit /posted on AO3 / tagging @today-in-fic

Waldorf Astoria

Penthouse

Sunday

9:05 am

She hears him moving around the room, his feet clomping around, though she can tell that he’s at least attempting to be quiet. She can smell his cologne as he moves closer to where she lay on the bed. Settled face down, the soft sheets tickle her bare and sensitive skin, having not bothered putting pajamas back on after their third round the previous evening, or rather early this morning. Her sex has never been this sore, and she has had a lot of sex, so that’s saying something. She feels the bed dip, her eyes still closed, holding onto the last bit of sleep she can. She feels Mulder’s soft hand against her cheek.

“Good morning,” she whispers, arching to stretch her sore muscles. Mulder bends down and kisses her shoulder. “Good morning,” he replies. She opens her eyes to see him grinning down at her.

“Either I was dead to the world and didn’t feel you move, or you stayed in bed all night,” she observes, sitting up and pulling the sheet around her bare breasts. She knows she shouldn’t be self-conscious, especially after the things he did to her body the previous evening, but at the moment she feels like the bedding is her armor.

“I haven’t slept that well in years,” he admits. She smiles, secretly proud that she was able to help him, at least for one night.

“Time to get up,” he informs her. “It’s time to go shopping.” He hands her his credit card. “I’m surprised you didn’t get more things yesterday.” Scully’s heart drops some, along with her affect. Seeing the change, Mulder raises an eyebrow, as if to ask her what’s wrong.

“It wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be,” she tells him honestly, shrugging her shoulders. He waits for more of an explanation. “They were mean to me.” Her voice and demeanor are slightly childlike.

“Mean to you?” he repeats, softly. She nods. He shakes his head, unable to understand how anyone could be mean to this magnificent creature. He stands and goes to the bedside table, picks up the phone, dials, and waits.

“Diana,” he says after a pause. “I wanted to let you know that I’ll be in a bit later this morning. If I need anything, I’ll call you.” He hangs up abruptly before giving the person on the other end a chance to respond.

He goes back to the bed, takes Scully’s hands, and tells her, “Come on. Shower and get dressed. We’re going shopping.”

Beverly Hills

10:30 am

Mulder reaches for Scully’s hand as they cross the street. She feels confident and safe, knowing Mulder is with her this time. She’s known him for such a short amount of time, but she somehow intuits that he would not let anything happen to her. She’s wearing her same miniskirt, but this time she also has one of Mulder’s crisp white button-down shirts, tied at the end for a better fit on her tiny frame as she walks confidently next to him.

“Stores aren’t nice to people,” he explains to her, “they’re nice to credit cards.” He pauses outside of a well-to-do-looking shop, much bigger than the small boutique from the previous day. “Stop fidgeting,” he instructs. A nervous habit dies hard. As confident as she feels, she can’t shake the jumpiness that usually overcomes her.

Upon walking into the store, Mulder immediately asks for the manager. A man approaches, somewhere in his early forties, with thinning hair and short stature.

“Good morning,” Mulder extends a hand. “You’re the manager of this shop?” he asks, getting down to business.

“Melvin Frohike,” the small man replies.

“I’m Fox Mulder-” Mulder begins.

“Yes sir, of course, sir, I thought that was you,” Frohike interrupts.

“See my friend over there?” Mulder asks, pointing towards the door, where Scully is still standing awkwardly, picking the cuticles on her nails. Frohike looks in the direction Mulder is gesturing and nods. “She’s hot,” he lets slip, then, turning beet-red, he profusely apologizes.

Mulder gives him some version of the stink-eye but glosses over the comment, secretly proud to have such a beautiful woman on his arm, so to speak.

“Well, Mr. Frohike. I would like you to know that we will be spending an obscene amount of money in your store and will require a lot of assistance.” Beside him, Scully grins like the Cheshire cat.

“Yes sir, of course, sir,” he responds to Mulder. He snaps his fingers and two assistants, both women, saunter over with catalogs. Scully is escorted to a chair, a woman flanking her on each side, showing her pages in the catalogs.

Mulder watches Scully with adoration as salesperson after salesperson brings her clothes. Solids. Patterns. Pieces of cotton. Silks. He can tell she is slightly overwhelmed, although she hides it well. At one point a saleswoman plops an oversized hat on Scully’s head, which evokes a giant belly laugh from her.

Sometime later, while Scully continues to be fawned over by multiple individuals, Frohike approaches Mulder, who is leaning against a display counter.

“How are things going Mr. Mulder?” he asks, curiously. Without lifting his eyes from the paper he’s engrossed in, Mulder replies, “I think we’re going to need a lot more sucking up.” Without missing a beat Frohike replies, “I knew from the moment you walked in here you are not only a handsome man but a powerful one…” Mulder’s eyes leave the paper and travel up to Frohike. With a quizzical look on his face, he tells him, “Not me. Her.” Frohike nods, blushing, and makes his way back over to Scully.

Placing the paper to the side, Mulder reaches into his pocket and withdraws his cell phone. Punching in a familiar number, he waits.

“Diana, I wanted to check in and see how it’s going.”

“Fox, where are you? When you called and said you would be late I didn’t think you meant this late,” a disgruntled Diana spits out. Mulder smiles, secretly enjoying getting a rise out of her.

“Don’t worry, Diana, I’ll be there soon. I had something to take care of this morning. How are things over there?”

“Well I spoke to Mr. Spender this morning and he is starting to get impatient. He would like an answer to his question. What happened last night?”

“He made me an offer I need to decide if I want to refuse,” Mulder replied, vaguely. When he was met with silence from the other end, he added, “I’ll explain when I get there. I’m leaving now.

He ends the call and places the phone back in his pocket, then walks over to Scully. She gazes up from her chair, a radiating smile on her face.

“I have to go to work,” he announces to everyone. “You look wonderful,” he tells her, as she is currently wearing a pin-striped suit jacket with a matching skirt. He bends to kiss her cheek. Standing, he looks at Frohike and tells him, “She has my credit card.” Then he bids them adieu and makes for the door.

Scully continues to try on various outfits over the next few hours. She is showered with scarves, hats, dresses, blazers; any type of clothing she could want. At one point a salesman is helping her into a pair of shoes while Mr. Frohike looks on.

“That’s a fantastic tie,” Scully tells the man. “I think Mulder would love that tie. He would look amazing in it,” she continues. Frohike snaps his fingers at the man.

“Take off the tie,” he instructs him. The salesman, dumbfounded, puts the shoes down and begins removing his tie. Handing it to Scully, she thanks him, explaining, “I think Mulder would love this tie.”

**********

Three hours later, she leaves the shop with several employees trailing behind her, per Frohike’s request, carrying several different-sized bags filled to the brim with clothes and shoes. She struts down Rodeo Drive, much more poised in her step than when she was there last time, her head held high in a wide-brimmed black hat and white gloves that reach midway up her arm, a distinguished aura surrounding her. Her dress is cream-colored and held closed by six vertical black and white buttons, and her red hair is pulled into a low but sophisticated ponytail.

Suddenly, realizing where she is, she makes a sharp right turn, entering yet another shop. Inside, several customers look at her in awe, admiration on their faces, no doubt envious of her attire.

“Excuse me,” Scully announces, confidence exuding from her. The sales lady looks up.

“Can I help you?” she asks, appropriately and respectfully.

“Do you remember me?” Scully asks. The second sales lady approaches.

“I’m sorry I don’t,” she responds, her eyes looking over Scully, trying to place her.

“I was in here yesterday,” Scully informs her. “You wouldn’t help me. You work on commission, right?” she asks. The woman nods, the knowledge of the previous day sinking in. Scully holds up her many shopping bags, looks the woman in the eye, and informs her, “Big mistake! Huge. I have to go shopping now.” Scully turns on her heel and walks out the door. She feels light, and dare she think it, happy.

Scully makes her way back to the hotel, courtesy of Langly, Mulder’s limo driver. She strides confidently through the lobby, hotel employees following her with her many bags. Walter Skinner, talking to a colleague, notices her and smiles, shaking his head and chuckling to himself.

In the penthouse, she pulls money out of her clutch purse and tips the bellboys. Once they retreat, she flops on the chair and takes her hat off, smiling because she is amazed and proud of herself at the moment.

The Grill on the Alley

Beverly Hills

2:00 pm

Mulder and Diana sit opposite each other. The restaurant is busy, filled with the hustle and bustle of customers and staff. They chose a small secluded table in the corner, though most likely for different reasons.

“I don’t know that much about him,” Diana tells him, digging into the salad she’d ordered. “I have heard that he is ruthless and does what he needs to get what he wants.”

Mulder gives her a slight raise of his brow, knowing the lengths Diana would go to accomplish the same thing. “I’m mulling some things over,” he finally says with a neural, don’t worry about it, tone.

“Well, whatever it is he wants from you, give it to him so we can close this deal and be done with it,” she insists.

“Trying to get rid of me?” he asks.

“Oh Fox, please, you know you can’t stay away from California too long. You’ll go back to New York for a bit, but it will only be a matter of time before I see you again. You always come back.”

“It seems like it’s getting harder and harder to leave,” he admits, resigned.

“You could stay, you know,” she replies, her voice filled with elation and hope.

“Maybe…”

Diana looks to where Mulder is gazing, at nothing in particular. “Fox, what is wrong with you? You are acting… I don’t know, but you’re not acting like yourself; you’re acting bizarre,” she confronts him.

“I have a lot to think about, Diana. I’ll have an answer for Spender soon.”

“The money,” she tries to argue, one last time.

“It’s not always about money,” he replies, flatly, which shocks an almost unflappable Diana.

“You’ve never felt this way before,” she states.

“People change,” is his only retort.

Waldorf Astoria

Penthouse

4:00 pm

Scully sits on one of the dining room chairs, one leg crossed over the other. She is stark naked, save for the tie she got for Mulder. She hears his key in the door and braces herself, knowing this will either be a hit or a miss. She’s starting to know Mulder and not just in the physical sense. She understands him, she thinks.

“Hello, dearest,” she says in a deep and sultry voice as Mulder rounds the corner and comes into view. He’s looking down at the stack of papers in his hand, but at the sound of her voice, he looks up, drops them, and develops a shit-eating grin on his face. Scully smiles, knowing she made the right choice.

He’s on her in an instant, wanting to touch her everywhere. After being with him for just two days, she can’t believe how much she has learned about him, physically. She’s amazed at how much of a tactile person he is, touching her even outside of sex. His mouth descends on her breasts, sucking and tugging a nipple between his teeth. Scully thinks about their encounters the previous evening and how she was a bystander for much of the night, letting Mulder assault her in the best of ways. She knows she doesn’t want to sit idly by this time. She moves her hands to his shirt, gripping it with all her strength, and pulls it open, buttons flying everywhere. Mulder lets go of her breast, moving his hands to undo his pants. He is already hard, straining against his suit pants. In that instant, she knows this is going to be quick.

Master Bathroom

4:45 pm

The welcoming sounds of soft music flood the heated bathroom. The lights are dim, some natural light peeking through the large window. Scully takes a washcloth and moves it gently side to side over Mulder’s masculine arms, arms that are wrapped around her small frame. They are soaking in the tub, completely sated after their coupling. He places tender kisses down the side of her porcelain neck. Mulder is pondering what to say to her. Tell me about your family, she had said minutes before. She’s waiting patiently for him to start talking.

“There’s not a lot to tell,” Mulder confides in her. “My family was never the same after Samantha’s diagnosis and eventual passing. My mother was a music teacher; piano,” he tells her proudly.

“Mmm,” Scully responds, encouraging him to continue.

“Following Sam’s death she tried to keep teaching, but being around all those kids was too painful. After she left teaching she tried giving piano lessons, but again, after a while, it made her too sad.” Mulder pauses thoughtfully. “She didn’t have that spark anymore.”

“Well,” Scully starts, shifting to face Mulder. She dips the washcloth in the warm water and brings it to his chest. “She must have excelled at one point because she taught you.” Mulder blushes slightly, red hues creeping up his neck. “What about your father?” she asks cautiously, remembering Mulder mentioning that he hasn’t seen him in over a decade.

“My father was always wealthy. Grew up in it and then made his own. He met my mother and fell in lust, I guess you could say. I know they were fond of each other, but I don’t know if they were ever in love. He uh, I guess he tried to be a good father and husband, at least he attempted to do what he thought he needed to. He provided for his family, but there wasn’t a lot of warmth.” He stops for another second to gather his thoughts. “The most outward display of love was when Sam was diagnosed. He was home more, and attentive, not just to Sam but to me, too. But then she got worse and so did his behavior; his drinking. Not long after Sam died, he left my mother for another woman and he took his money with him. They divorced when I was fourteen and my mother passed away when I was sixteen. I had to spend two years with that man before I could leave and go to college. It was nice to finally get away; I felt freer then than I had in a long time. I still think about them, Sam and my mom, often, but their memories don’t hold me hostage as they once did.”

Scully goes back to running her gentle hands over Mulder’s arms. Content, she thinks, warmth in her heart. However, deep down she worries, ever so slightly, that she’s possibly becoming too attached.

[levelzeo]

Level Zeo’s Brilliant Diamond Nuzlocke - Part 1

I’m going to do a Nuzlocke of Brilliant Diamond.  I never played the gen 4 games growing up, and even now I have never finished a playthrough of one (not for lack of wanting to, it's a long story), so this is going to be semi-blind.  I also like Nuzlockes a lot as a storytelling device, so as I play I like coming up with headcanons for my Pokemon and their personalities, and I thought it would be cool to share those alongside the factual info of what happens in the run.

What are my rules?  Well, I am pretty bad at video games.  But I’m also better than the pure damage move spammer I was as a child, so I’m going somewhere in between casual and hardcore.  Rules are as follows:

Pokemon faints, Pokemon dead.

I can only catch the first Pokemon I find on each Route/Area.

Nicknames for everybody!

No duplicates!  If my first encounter is a duplicate I am forced to try again until I get something new.

Level Caps.  Nobody is allowed to level past the next Gym Leader’s Ace.

Items.  I will allow myself to use healing items in battle, but no battle items.  If I find it too easy, I might put a limit on the number of heals I can use in one fight.

I will be playing in Switch Mode.  As I said, I am bad at video games.  I’m going to be losing a lot of Pokemon to stupidity and cockiness already, so I don’t need the extra challenge of Set Mode.

Okay then.  Let’s begin.

I start up the game, pick the base female avatar, name her Zeo, and name my rival Melvin.  Entering the game world proper, Melvin drags me to Lake Verity where we steal borrow some Pokemon from a briefcase to protect ourselves from getting mauled by wild animals.  I pull a d6 from my pocket and roll it into the tall grass to decide which one I will pick, and I end up going with the middle Pokeball, Chimchar.  Do I even need to say how this fight goes?  We all know what happens here.

My new Chimchar has a Careful nature, and a characteristic of being Very Finicky.  That makes me feel as though he is a very nervous creature.  Cautious of everything, even to a fault.  Perhaps he is right to worry so much, since on the way to Sandgem Town, he gets Crit TWICE by random encounters, forcing me to go home and heal each time.  Poor fella.

I finally make it to Sandgem, and can finally give the Chimchar a nickname.  I decided to go with Simmer, since he doesn’t seem like one to turn up the heat right out the gate.  I get my Pokedex from my second favorite Professor, and the adventure can truly begin.  First things first, I buy some Pokeballs so I can get an encounter from Route 201.

I end up with a lvl 2 Starly as my first encounter on the route.  Don’t ask me why, but the Starly line has always reminded me of the seagulls I would always see on the coast.  Because of that, I name this Starly after the food those winged rats would always steal from me.  Chips.  He has a Jolly nature, and is Strongly Defiant.  These traits make me think that this virtual bird would try to steal my food just like the real ones.  A hungry and energetic little gremlin.  I imagine that he would quickly get on Simmer’s nerves.

After 201, I head north to Route 202.  There, I ended up with the encounter I knew I was going to have going into a Sinnoh game.  Bidoof.  She has a Brave nature and Likes to Thrash About.  I probably could have picked a name that goes better with those traits, but since I only get to know them after the nickname, her name is Boof.

This is where I make the stupid mistake of not going back to heal.  Because of this, I almost have a complete wipe against my very first trainer fight in the entire game.  Luckily, newcomer Boof is able to pull through and win the day with a sliver of hp remaining, and nobody dead.  A Brave soul indeed.  I hope this close call is not an omen of things to come.

Next stop is Jubilife.  Pros of Jubilife: the music.  Cons of Jubilife: the clowns.  I get the Poketech before heading north again for more encounters.  Between Route 204 and The Ravaged Path, I gain two new friends.  Doc the Zubat, who is Hasty and Finicky.  And Petard the Geodude who is Jolly and Somewhat of a Clown.  

Between the name and traits, I think of Doc as a bit of a mad scientist archetype.  Cackling maniacally as he swoops in and out of combat, scoffing at anyone who dares question his intelligence (despite not actually being as smart as he thinks he is).  Simmer and Boof definitely aren’t buying the act, but Chips is all for it.  I imagine Chips sees this as an opportunity to make a friend (and also to mooch food off of him), while Doc sees this as obtaining a new minion.  Mwahahaha.  Since they’re both flying types it saddens me that I will need to box one of them eventually, since I probably won’t need two fliers most of the time.

Being Jolly and a bit of Clown would normally make a Pokemon a bit of a prankster in my mind, but something about Petard being a Geodude wants me to go in a different direction.  I’m picturing just a very chill and laid-back kinda guy, always trying to lighten the mood and crack a joke.  Maybe even a bit of a “stoner” (cue rimshot and/or gunshot from the audience).  Him and Boof would get along great due to them both being tanky and willing to roll with the punches.  He is also willing to let Chips perch on his head, which is very cool of him.

I feel like I’m forgetting something else about my Geodude… oh right!  I named him Petard after a type of bomb.  In poor taste?  Maybe.  Does this mean I will be keeping and/or using self destruct when he learns it?

…

No comment.

Something I notice is that Simmer doesn’t really have anyone he can connect with.  Chips definitely thinks their friends, not realizing how much his antics and gremlin energy annoys the Chimchar.  Meanwhile Boof/Petard try to keep Simmer included, but his nerves and caution to most situations cause them to do so less and less.  Doc just laughs and calls him a pitiful cowardly wretch of a fire type.

Poor Simmer.  His loneliness is somewhat of his own making, but you can’t force yourself to be around people you don’t vibe with.  As the Starter he is in a “Team Leader” role by default, and he’s definitely the powerhouse of the team, but is he confident enough in his abilities to be the leader they need right now?  Probably not.

Enough characterization for now!  Let’s get back to the game.

Since northwards is a dead end as of now, I go back to Jubilife.  Popping into the trainer’s school, I have a vague memory of losing all of my Pokémon to the two Charge Beam Abras in there the first time I tried playing this game.  Luckily Petard is immune to anything they do and he is easily able to slowly beat them into the dirt.

After that I head east onto Route 203, where I am immediately jumped by Melvin who challenges me to a Rival Battle.

It’s not a hard battle.  Petard is tanky enough to not be hurt by anything the Starly can do, though I do switch to Boof to finish them off after the bird used Growl enough times to make the fight annoyingly slow.  My decision that these two should be friends solidifies.

I have discovered in retrospect that Piplup has no water moves at this point, but at the time I didn’t know, so I sent in Chips instead of Simmer, who probably could have done it faster.  I choose to believe I was just role-playing my starter’s careful nature.  Chips is probably excited to prove himself though, and he certainly does.  It’s a close battle, but I prove that my bird is superior and win the day (probably also stealing Melvin's lunch in the process).

I thought about continuing after that fight, but decided this was enough for a first update.  If you read this far I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing in!  Again, I think Nuzlockes are a fascinating medium for storytelling, and I hope the personalities I gave my Pokémon are fun to think about.  I know that I like them.  Next time I update I hope to at least get to the first Gym.  Hope to see you then!

(PS, I am not an artist.  I am bad at art.  But for some reason I wanted to draw my Pokémon children.  They aren’t good, but here they are.  Let’s hope none of them die on me.)

[officermaddie23]

The Fandom kids get kidnapped (FT Ocs)

Coraline Jones: I'M GONNA KEEP A STRAIT FACE YOU WON'T EVEN KNOW THAT I'M SCARED YOUR GONNA UNTIE ME AND LET ME OUT OF THE VAN THATS IT THIS IS NOT UP FOR DISSCUSSION Melvin: I CAN'T HIDE THE FEAR Calvin: Uh could you go to the front of the van I like to be alone Mikacroak Yelinak: you think you could untie these ropes they are really tight? YOU THINK YOU CAN UNTIE THESE ROPES THEY ARE REALLY TIGHT (Breaks free from the ropes) okay I'm gonna jump out of the van and ninja roll JUMPING NOW (Ninja rolls out of the car) Vanny: This is the last time I'm telling you to shut up Seven: NO I DON'T WANNA SHUT UP (sees the Beldam go into his wallet) Mam kill me if you must but that dollar you took out of my wallet that's mine Gregory: Wait I gotta pee wait I'm hungry wait slow down wait nevermind I'm fine Georgie: You said this was an ice-cream truck where's the ice cream I'm suspicious now Kasey: Hey can I be the kidnapper now because this experience is a one out of 5 stars Vanny: *points her gun at Kasey* Kasey: So your mad because I'm right Millie Fitzsimmons: I am not getting in that van its atrociously dirty. Kill me chop up my body if you must but don't put me in the dirt put me in some disinfected water Sarah: 3 years now 3 years ago you bumped my head up against the roof of the van and I'm still mad Vanny: Just tell me where the money is Toney Becker: NO THAT IS A SECERT I WILL TAKE TO MY GRAVE Cassie: For the past 3 minutes you kidnappers smell like sweaty people who went to the gym and didn't take a shower afterwords (Takes a selfie with Vanny and the beldam) No filter Vanny: I TOLD YOU TO STOP TALKING OR I'M GONNA KILL YOU Young Michael Afton: I TOLD YOU TO STOP TALKING OR I'M GONNA KILL YOU. You see how stupid you sound

[bitofanupsidedowner]

i feel like i am going insane about where the time skip is going to be placed it’s one of the most nervewracking parts of waiting 

the thing is to me that the very end of s4 leaves so many open ends & character conflicts that seem like they need to be addressed as quickly as possible.

like, melvin is bones so if it just started two years later with them still together it would just obviously not make any sense. especially since the monologue was full of lies and inspired by a lie (the painting) and the painting is a physical reminder OF the lie. mike would never get rid of a will painting, so there’s no getting rid of the evidence of the lie that was the catalyst to the monologue. we already saw that el did not respond positively to it.

but i also don’t think they’re going to completely skip over a melvin breakup because i feel like when they do break up, the painting will be involved in the conversation at some point. mike WILL be confused and upset and i have a minor concern they’ll fix this by having the painting reveal/milkman breakup and then immediately separating will and mike from eachother so there can’t be a resolution yet. just hoping the time skip is not part of their separation, because we already saw they do very poorly spending time away from eachother

i just have no idea when it would like........ FIT to put in a time skip and it’s stressin me out and im just !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[mybookplacenet]

Featured Post: Do You Believe in Magic | Book 1 by Jim Melvin

About Do You Believe in Magic | Book 1: Recommended Review by Kirkus Reviews (top 25% of Indie books): "A delightful beginning to a promising series that’s sure to appeal to teen readers who feel like outsiders." — Kirkus Reviews, October 2024 The winner of 11 international awards. In this exciting and enchanting fantasy novel, readers are invited to journey into a world where magic is not merely a fairy tale but a powerful reality. This gripping story revolves around an everyday boy leading an ordinary life until a chance encounter transforms his world forever. Suddenly, faced with inexplicable happenings and being able to perform magical feats, Charlie grapples to understand his newfound abilities. Little does he know, he has become central to a battle between forces beyond his comprehension, a war underway in the invisible realms around him. Book 1 of the teen fantasy adventure "Dark Circles" explores the timeless human question – do you believe in magic? – in a context that feels entirely fresh and unpredictable. It takes readers on a fantastic adventure, filled with wit, mystery, action, and a touch of romance to tie it all together. Targeted Age 13 and older Written by: Jim Melvin Buy the ebook: Buy the Book On Amazon Link to Series Buy the Audio Book: Buy the Book On Amazon Buy the Print Book: Buy the Book On Amazon Author Bio: I grew up on the shores of western Florida and spent much of my childhood swimming in shark-infested waters long before the movie Jaws put a scare into everyone. At the time, I was too skinny to attract a shark’s attention. About ten other boys my age lived on my same street, and we hung out morning, noon, and night playing the usual sports that young boys love — football, baseball, “kill the carrier,” etc. — but as a group, we also played fantastical games that contained magic, monsters, and superheroes. It was in this setting that my imagination as a writer of magical fantasy was born and nurtured. I moved from Florida to Upstate South Carolina about twenty years ago and drove from Tampa-St. Pete to the Clemson area on Interstate 75 many times. It’s about a 10-hour drive, which is quite wearisome. And the traffic around Atlanta can be horrendous. I’ve always found the rest stops to be a bit spooky, especially at night. My MC Charlie Magus also found them to be spooky. If you read Do You Believe in Magic?, you’ll get the picture. My first home in SC was on forty wooded acres that included a creek that wound through a forest to a waterfall. It wasn’t as magnificent as described in my books 😀, but it did serve as the inspiration for the story. I am at home in the mountains. It’s where I now live, and I do long hikes at least three days per week. Characters in fantasy novels tend to wander around a lot in the wilderness, so I feel comfortable writing about natural surroundings. I have written “Dark Circles” with young teens in mind. I tell potential readers that it is appropriate for 13 and older, though readers as young as 10 and as old as 80 have enjoyed it. When I say appropriate, I mean that there are no sex scenes and only very limited profanity. But like most epic fantasies, the series has its violent moments — sort of like the later Harry Potter books. But just because a series is appropriate for young teens doesn’t mean that it has to be sophomoric. To the contrary, “Dark Circles” is a sophisticated work with a lot going on between the lines in terms of themes, allegorical elements, symbolism, foreshadowing, literary tropes, etc. My newsletter (Jim Melvin’s Realms of Fantasy) goes into extensive depth about this. Some of the themes in my series are obvious: bullying, good vs. evil, coming of age, heroism. But in the end, the most important theme of all is the idea that only the best among us are willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good — the literary equivalent of a soldier throwing himself on a hand grenade. Follow the author on social media: Learn more about the writer. Visit the Author's Website Facebook Fan Page Twitter LinkedIn YouTube Read the full article

[apocalypse-eyes]

Disappearances

Dark rain to cold. To darkness. Cycling on uneven streets. Murderer asphalt downhill with wet eyes with blackness. I need to keep my head down. Headlights like white knives twisting in night. And sirens to relapse, to shrill call suicide. I'm riding between the heavy machines and can only trust my legs and stomach. Necessity is irrelevant to gunshots. I'm also huddled in a ravine, clutching my tools together. My rifle to my IFAK with gasping. I'm cashiering, I'm running. I don't know where I am but my body remembers strain. Rain in my eyes, it's usual. With sweat or my legs' ache. I don't remember my spine the way it pinches when I bend. A car alarm, a couple of shouts that combine into murmurs. I missed a pothole with my wheel. Another neglected wound in the city. You can't see these when you're walking or driving. They could kill me any second to throw this body under a car. Like the smokes of these past few years that descended yellow/black and thick suddenly. You could ignore them better in your home but I had to ride where I was going. I bought masks from a hardware store in 2017 to keep from choking in the streets. It's happening more and more that you can't see from where you are.

Skies the color of tainted urine I bought a gun in ignorance. Whatever research I do the future remains inscrutable. Inevitable. Illness and character defects are leading me deaf. Once in the week I see a mirror and I'm markedly different. I'm sinking through the abyss that I know well but do not understand. My anarchism is a living body sewed inside a corpse. I turn a corner and my wheel skids on wet. It could be my death but I re-correct. The meaning to any of this is useless. My headlight flickers and evaporates as I didn't charge it recently. I know I didn't. I can't keep pace with the system that surrounds me. I'm base reactions to reptilian chemistry every day. It'll overwhelm me and sometimes I'll find a break. I steal a watch out of Walmart. I put a bruise in their bodyguard and am anonymous. I'm overtaken with dreams while Earth whirs. This engine is horribly misshapen. Not attended to. There's no need on Earth to be aware of life. The laws of dynamics exact equations, exact austerity into a street of oil and slogans.

I could kick out your taillights. I could jump into your passenger window to finger out your eyes. This life is built of possibilities. Love is a continuum like the motions of downtown run to the bleak water of ocean. We don't mean anything when we wake in the morning, only a suspicious drone calls the night. The passage of time is our Britannia. The sink in a slick of doubt. My lips are full of flies riding between the bus and a redbrown truck. The voices in my head are a collectivization of those advertisement personalities I meet in my personal life. It makes sense to be inscrutable. My bag is full of a flashlight, a steel baton, pens and spray paint, my writing and reading, my other clothes and miscellaneous tools. It's 4:30pm in the same way that it is 7:30am. A little difference in the quality of sun but there's no midnight here. No cold quiet or drunkenness. I try to define myself and the chunks out of my bones reply. My late nights that are carved out of future say truth about my marrow. We're all together sinking deep behind economy.

Pull aside I'm at the door. Tires throw mud and slick around. Machine sounds howling, micro-howling inside funnels of sound. The wind is a system itself, like underwater with sub-bass and whales. Micro-patterns. Micro-constellations in the pores of a skin system. Skrying refractions in gasoline on the streetside. Infinitesimal patterns run through every moment in the mouth of a city. The window leaks pus. I think she still lives here. I think his name is Melvin lets me in and then I'm down the stairs, around the corner past the laundry room. A shut down with powder packed under it. A blue light bulb shows constantly. Her name is Ethel, or it's Judith. Her name before we became disappearances. I don't remember well. My bike is wet and cramped in here. It's hard to remember where I am sometimes when the rooms fit together I've been through hallways enough and the smell is always the same. Above the ground is one, below is another. Birds or insect smells, dead skin electricity or wet in the corners and cupboards.

I knock. It's easy like a dream like my hand moves to its own meaning. I've been here before. I've done all of this before but I forget how the vision ends. A moth against the light. The air tastes like mildew here. She pulls the door open and her voice is there. Desolate immediate heat. I leave my bike in the hall.

***

"Andrew. You said something about Andrew."

We talked on the phone earlier. We sometimes do when the air is dry and quiet. Some times there is space to talk and others I curl into absence. Her room is full of machines and it feels like sweat. Skeletons of projects on the table, an archaeological strata and graveyard of murdered thoughts. Midi talks to herself and touches the knife inside her clothes. She points at a chair and kicks it slightly for me to sit down. The quality of light is weird like it's being filtered through multiple substances. Like we're deep under water talking amid a different atmosphere.

"Yeah... Andrew he's going to Montell this weekend with Bruce and her sister."

"Going to the pit?"

"Not the pit this time it's just a midpoint. Did you know anyone called Pisky?"

"Know where?"

At least six fans are perched around the room, heaving out dusty air from between collapsed accumulation. It feels rancid here. I'm inside of a body that's been allowed to die. So that it could be reanimated into something else. Midi patrols the room in twitchy patterns, looking into spiderwebs and her various objects and screens.

"From Osten. I don't know the person but I guess they fucked up and their pictures are going around."

Midi gets very slow and still the way I've seen her do. Picks up a jar of batteries and I see her imagine it shatter to the floor. She breathes with her eyes closed, thirty seconds before setting it back.

"Goddammit yeah I know Pisky. What did she do?"

"No idea. No one told me and I don't really care. She'll be dead though if she doesn't get across the border soon."

"When are you leaving? What time?"

Her nervous energy is dissipated, her usual self. Midi sits in her work chair and leans back, breathing. Her eyes are mostly closed.

"Early. Early-early, before the bars close."

She's doing math in her head, moving her lips. One of her spiders is gathering its web together in the corner, patiently consuming the threads to reset them. Her rooms are an ecosystem. One layer consumes another, all so she doesn't keep track of it. One of her fingers is missing, she told me before. Missing like a person, she doesn't remember what happens. She said it hurts to type, to manipulate her tools. She snaps to attention in her seat. Mouth tight, eyes dark.

"So we're leaving from Bruce's place at one thirty. Probably drop our shit off the morning before. I'll need to get in my storage unit, get the key back from Parsons... You didn't give me much time to work this out."

"I didn't know if you'd want to go."

"Pisky's a fucking idiot but I'm not gonna let them have her. And any of you... You're not crossing the border but why would you get that close without expecting me?"

"You keep saying we should keep more narrow near home. I just didn't think you'd support it."

"I... usually I don't, but not like this. It's not careless..."

She walks out of the room. I haven't seen Parsons for three or four months. I didn't realize she was still talking to him. His face was covered in blood when we were arguing. It looked like a small gash on his forehead but I couldn't tell in the dark of the alley. It wasn't a surprise that he left, but nobody was happy about it. Especially Rox. That was hard to explain when they got back in town. Parsons offline and Mandy was hiding out somewhere, barely talking to us. Midi comes back with her go-bag and a bundle of papers, drops them beside the door.

"You're asking me last aren't you, or are we gonna borrow Helen's car? That's five of us, plus Pisky. Is it just Pisky or anyone coming with her?"

"Just Pisky that I know. There wasn't a lot of chatter though. Just time, date, place mostly."

Midi nods and goes around the room, pulling little tools and objects from their remembered places in the mess.