#wish I had these tools a decade ago I would have been able to draw so much more instead of spending 3 days trying to get the pose right

[undead-potatoes]

Discovered you can now make custom faces and attach objects to 3D models in CSP v3 and have gone mad with power

[jelly-pies]

Dancing From Now On

Read on AO3

Pepper remembered their first dance. Contrary to public knowledge, it had not been at the annual Stark Industries gala.

Tony and Pepper's first dance took place months before that, alone at the mansion, late after a long day of work. The music had been Pepper's idea, to relax. But the dance had been Tony's.

"Getting better, Potts." Somehow cheerier than usual, he spun her slowly around the workshop. "Nobody will ever know you had two left feet. Hardly believe it myself, if my toe wasn't still throbbing."

Pepper huffed. "Not all of us could afford dance classes, you know."

"Well, it's not that hard, see? We're just swaying." Tony pulled her in, an inch closer, meeting her eyes. And for one moment, Pepper was purely dancing with the friend she was secretly in love with—not the boss who depended on her, or the playboy whose one night stands she escorted out of the mansion every few weeks. Just Tony. "Just dancing."

Their casual flirting was one thing. But this was getting dangerously close to something else—so Pepper ended the moment. JARVIS stopped the music, and when Pepper looked back after collecting her things, Tony suddenly looked away as if he'd been caught staring.

Maybe he had.

"So, you're good?" Tony asked casually, hands fiddling with some tools he picked up. "No stumbling over anybody's feet at the next gala?"

"We're good." Pepper matched his light tone. "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"You're very welcome, Ms. Potts."

"And Tony... " She paused at the door. Did she imagine that expectant look he sent her way, or was it just the lighting? "Um… that contract you still have to look over. Don't show up tomorrow without it."

"Which one?"

"Tony."

He chuckled. "I got it. Have a good night."

Maybe it was just the lighting.

"Good night," Pepper answered, and exited the room with deliberate steps.

She turned back before the landing. Tony was facing away, bringing up holo-screens, flexing his hands—and suddenly she remembered the feel of those calloused fingers against her own, drawing her closer.

Tony looked up. Pepper turned away, determined not to be caught staring.

But maybe she had.

Pepper remembered their first dance. And she remembered how it led to much, much more.

-

Their second dance, that one was at the Stark Industries Firefighter's Family Fund benefit. A backless blue gown, a little banter, an almost-kiss on the roof. Another moment Pepper ended before anything could begin, even though she half-wished something  would begin—had been wishing it those dreadful three months of Tony's disappearance.

As Tony left to get them drinks, Pepper turned away to hide a growing blush. She didn't see the way he looked back at her from the door.

Tony reentered the building, and didn't see the way Pepper looked after his retreating back, either.

-

Years later on another rooftop, after a disastrous Stark Expo, the kiss became real.

They even had a witness, who deadpanned, "You guys look like two seals fighting over a grape."

Tony put his arm around her as they faced Rhodey, and Pepper couldn’t help thinking how that gesture must make them look like a real couple. She found she didn’t mind. All of a sudden, plans of her resignation as CEO didn't seem so urgent.

Tony turned back to her as soon as Rhodey left and challenged, "How are you gonna resign if I don’t accept?"

Pepper laughed, letting the action release her anxiety and near-death stress and girlish romance. "I…" And Tony was leaning close. She stopped him with a finger on his lips. "Tony, if I don't… we can’t…"

"Come on, it’s us. We’ll figure something out." And there was that look again. Pepper wasn’t so quick to blame the lighting this time. "Ms. Potts?" Tony took both her hands. "Pep?"

It was too late to stop this moment, and Pepper knew it. But the doubt must have still shown on her face because Tony took one look and continued, "Remember when we danced? The first time, Malibu? You crushed my toes about a hundred—"

"Please let that go."

"—but we made it work."

Pepper took a breath. "We did."

Tony smiled, eyes shining—that's how Pepper could always tell if his smiles were real. She could also tell that both of them were done holding back… whatever this was.

"We are pretty good at dancing," Pepper replied.

Tony couldn't see her face as they embraced, but if he did, Pepper was sure he could tell her smile was real, too.

-

A private night at Stark Tower after the New York attack, that was the third dance. Or fourth, or fifth, maybe. Pepper wasn't sure she needed to count anymore.

She was only sure of two things. Swaying together in their home, with JARVIS playing soft music overhead, her arms around the love she had almost lost—and had accepted she would come close to losing, over and over again, for the sake of saving the world—Pepper was only sure of these: that she wanted herself and Tony to have a thousand more dances to come.

And that she could never know which one would be their last.

-

They danced that night on yet another rooftop, after the events with the Mandarin.

They didn't dance after Ultron.

Or for several months after that.

But the next time Pepper and Tony finally held each other in their arms, they held on tighter, and neither let go for a long, long time.

-

This wasn't how Pepper imagined it, for several reasons.

Tony’s smile was different. There was a sadness in them that lingered like ashes, but he smiled anyway, holding her close—which was a feat with Pepper's growing belly, but they made it work.

There were fewer guests. Several seats they left vacant on purpose, scattered around the lakeside like lonely souls. Some people held the belief they were there, in spirit, and that's what mattered. Pepper wasn't so sure; pure sentimentality had prevailed on her to leave the seats out.

Apparently sentimentality ran high this evening. The band played the song she and Tony had first danced to, oh so long ago, in a mansion long since blown to bits, by an AI, a friend, long since gone.

There was no publicity in what had once been anticipated as the event of the decade. A single ray of sun through gray clouds instead of all-around sunshine, in what was supposed to be the happiest day of Pepper and Tony's life.

But the people they loved—those that were left—celebrated with them, and that was enough. A simple reception at their new house, and the wedding was over.

After the lake grew quiet and the stars came out, the newlyweds slow-danced through the night, just the two of them.

This wasn't how Pepper imagined their new life would start. But start it did, with a dance.

"Getting better, Potts," Tony whispered beside her temple, their heads pressed together.

"Not so hard without the floor length gown. I know that was my idea, but God, don’t let me do anything like that ever again."

Tony chuckled and spun her slowly until she faced away, then wrapped his arms around his wife, their four hands interlocking on top of her belly.

Pepper had long lost count of their dances. But she knew this was one she would always remember.

It was Tony who broke the silence. "You guys still here? Scoot."

Pepper turned where he was looking: Rhodey’s wedding presents on the mantelpiece, staring at them—two plushie seals. And she laughed. Tony could always make her laugh.

“Fighting over a grape?” Pepper recalled.

“I never really got that image, to be honest.”

“Hm.” She turned back to Tony, cupped his cheek, and leaned in. “Let’s see about that.”

-

"That’s it! You’re doing it!" Tony spun their daughter around until the song ended, and Morgan collapsed in giggles on the floor. Tony scooped her up and tickled her with his stubble, making the giggling grow louder.

"Dad!" Morgan laughed. "Mommy, save me!"

Pepper swiftly rescued the toddler, only to drop her on the couch and blow raspberries on her stomach a second later. "In this house—" another tickle, and Morgan squealed— "nobody—escapes—dancing!"

Morgan finally succeeded in pushing her away as FRIDAY started the next upbeat song, and soon all three were back on their feet.

-

“Not that it's a competition.” Tony walked in. “But she loves me three thousand.”

“Oh, does she?”

“You were somewhere on the low… six to nine hundred range.”

Tony could always make her laugh.

Even the night after the Avengers came to visit. The night their new life, that Pepper knew in her heart could never last long, started to melt away.

Tonight there was no music, no dancing. Only the crackle of the fireplace, the weight of the future, and Pepper’s words hanging in the air— "But will you be able to rest?"

Tony didn’t answer her. He didn’t need to.

But Pepper held his hand, and Tony kissed her cheek. And when they finally went to bed, they held each other tighter.

-

Tony held her hand, and Pepper kissed his cheek. "You can rest now."

Tonight there was no dancing.

-

Two cylindrical compartments stood along the garage wall, one of them forever to be empty. In the other, Pepper put her Rescue suit away by herself. Crossing the room, her fingers couldn't help lingering over Tony's reserve helmet—Tony's desk—Tony's tools—Tony's presence. She could always feel it in his workshops.

Their first dance had been in his workshop.

The memory jolted her, pulling Pepper's eyes back to the last gift Tony left: her Rescue suit slumped in its compartment, looking as battered as she felt. Pepper remembered what it was like to take the suit to battle. To fight side by side with her husband, gauntlets firing in sync, guarding each other's back. A team to the end.

Did that count as a dance? Because otherwise, Pepper realized, she didn't remember the last time she and Tony danced.

She remembered their first, though—would always remember it. JARVIS’s song, their wedding song, strained in her ears—she could almost feel Tony's calloused fingers around hers—dancing in his workshop late at night.

But in this workshop, on this night, Pepper could only cry.

-

Pepper still danced.

She danced with Rhodey, and they leaned on each other, the way they had learned to do long ago.

She danced with Happy, bouncy little head bangs as they cooked Christmas dinner together, and for a moment the house was full of music again.

She danced with Peter, years later at his wedding, whispering "We’re so proud of you" in his ear.

She danced with her daughter. Morgan always pulled her to her feet whenever a lively song came on the radio— "In this house, nobody escapes dancing!" And they laughed. And they danced.

Pepper still danced. Just not with the one person she most wanted to dance with again.

-

When years had passed, and Morgan was grown, and the house was quiet most hours of the day, Pepper developed the habit of sneaking out on the balcony on clear nights, and looking up at the stars.

Some of her favorite dances with Tony had taken place under the stars. Like the rooftop. And their wedding.

Pepper didn’t remember which dance had been their last. But she remembered the first. And the second. And the thousands that came after that. Maybe that was enough.

In the quiet of the lake house, with only the strains of their wedding song echoing in her ears, and the stars above her, forever her witness—Pepper danced.

-

-

- "Ang Huling El Bimbo (The Last [Dance])," The Eraserheads

Lahat ng pangarap ko'y bigla lang natunaw

Sa panaginip nalang pala kita maisasayaw

(All of my dreams are suddenly gone

Only in dreams can we dance from now on)

[nerdpiggy]

Tell us about your ocs!! I'm genuinely curios bc of the tags

[ID: Meme of Hatsune Miku smiling. Top text reads "Thanks for sending me a message". Bottom text reads "You're very cute and I will be replying to you".]

Robin "Robbie" Fuller: The character i play in a DND campaign.

they/them pronouns. they're nonbinary and asexual and don't care to label their romantic attraction.

They're 22 years old and 5'9" (175cm)

Their birthday is November 12th. they're a scorpio

They started off as a Mundane MOTW character and they're now a level 7 warlock in DND. They're a human

They live in a small coastal town in massachusetts called Holyoak and they go to the local college to learn culinary. They live in a single dorm and they have a cute widdle black cat named Chickadee

One day (for various reasons) their life was flip-turned upside down with discovering the existence of monsters, portals, different dimensions, and rifts in spacetime

One of the reasons for them discovering all of this was them meeting a man named Thomas who's a human from a different dimension called the Palisades. He's a well-known Judge over there. (Thomas is @bevtastic 's character)

Robbie gets an offer to join the Interdimensional Defence Agency (IDA), says fuck it and accepts, and Robbie and Thomas stay friends by virtue of their similar jobs.

Robbie is tasked to go to a different dimension (A half-medieval half-wild west desert town called Argyle) to stop a threat that was growing there. Threat turned out to be a massive mind-controlling dragon who wanted revenge for the rest of her dragon species that were killed off by medieval "heroes". Robbie was not cut out for this as their first job. They (with help) subdue the dragon eventually but not before she burned down multiple towns including Argyle to a crisp. Robbie feels very bad about this.

Robbie, Thomas, and the rest of the party receive a mysterious letter leading them to an old abandoned mansion in Holyoak and get roped into a rescue mission to save Thomas's old friend Percy who has apparently been bodysnatched by a bad guy and trapped somewhere for what felt like thousands of years. This is the arc where we switched from Monster of the Week to DND, and Robbie gets connected to a nature deity Adelaide through a purple necklace. They also get a familiar, who is an owl with pitch-black feathers and glowing yellow pupilless eyes that Robbie named Mr. Muffins.

Robbie and Thomas become very good friends :)

Thomas dies.

Robbie goes to the Palisades to find out what happened to him. Turns out he wanted to reveal the secret of interdimensional travel to the public and work to make it open, free, and safe. The people in charge did not allow him to do this by legal means so he aimed to do it illegally, which was when he was murdered by a group of bandits.

On top of that, one of the main reasons why he wanted to reveal the different dimensions is because there is a HUGE interdimensional threat coming our way, and we need to act on it if we want to live.

Percy finds Robbie and asks them to help with this threat, who apparently is a singular person named Siris that has been locked in a prison for thousands of years and somehow got out. Robbie doesn't have much of a choice and accepts.

In the Palisades, there are monsters called Behemoths. they emerge from people who get bitten by a behemoth or who touch the black tar-like substance that runs like rivers in certain areas of the Palisades. During a battle, Robbie gets bitten by a Behemoth, and now they're a candidate for Behemism (aka turning into big giant monster syndrome).

Because Robbie has Behemism and Siris is part of the reason for Behemism existing, they're mind roommates now. Robbie and Siris do not get along very well.

There's more to Robbie but this is their main backstory!!!

[ID: a drawing of Robbie holding a chrysanthemum. They have short pink curly hair, and they're wearing a yellow floral button-up and a purple necklace. They have bandages on their freckled face and they're looking down at the chrysanthemum with a neutral expression.]

Emile Azarel: A character i play in a different campaign that does MOTW.

He/him pronouns, he's trans, demisexual, and demiromantic.

He's 19 and he's 5'3

He doesn't know his actual birthday but the day he celebrates is January 23rd

His MOTW class is The Expert. He's a fire genasi

He was born in central Russia but he doesn't know his parents well because when he was ~8 months old there was a big monster attack that unfortunately killed his parents. A monster hunter named Avery Azarel found Emile, took him in and raised him.

Emile learned to hunt monsters with Avery and the two traveled around together as monster hunters.

Eventually Emile wished to have a solid place to live rather than constantly traveling, because he wanted friends. He found a town in the pacific northwest called Salmon Peak that had everything he wanted: Russian culture, a fairly small easy-to-get-around layout, and some very weird mysteries going on. (Just because Emile wanted to settle didnt mean he wanted to stop monster hunting!)

He moved to Salmon Peak and has met a bunch of new friends! He's also learning more and more about the town, which is turning out to be somehow even weirder than he expected.

Emile is a very sweet, polite boy, but considering the fact that he's only ever been around one person mainly for his entire life, he has a bit of a ways to go when it comes to interacting with people. The monster hunting life means that when there's a monster, you kill it and that usually solves all your problems. Emile has transferred this logic to people as well (if they're a monster, kill em!) and he's learning through friend influence that maybe human lives are a bit more sacred than that.

His favorite color is blue because he loves the sky!

A lot of people underestimate his skills because he's little and looks very young, but he is a very good monster hunter. Because of Avery (the best monster hunter in the biz), his last name has a bit of a reputation.

Emile is blind, autistic, and has vitiligo!

I have much more planned for Emile but I can't say it here because it is MAJOR spoilers!

[ID: a drawing of Emile walking forward. He is wearing a blue shirt with stars on it, blue jeans, a fluffy white jacket, a belt with a star on it, star earrings, a moon necklace, and black shoes. His blue hair is swaying behind him and he's holding a white cane with a red tip. He's smiling slightly.]

Avery Azarel: Emile's parent! I've not played them as a character yet but I've made a character sheet for them.

they/them pronouns. They're agender, aromantic, and pansexual

their age is (???) and their height is 5'7

they have a birthday but nobody knows when it is

Their MOTW class is The Chosen. they appear human

They're widely considered the best monster hunter in the biz. Their name is well-known and they're requested for help all around the world

Because of this, they're constantly traveling and having a house would not make sense. They just pack their things, stay at motels/hotels/etc., camp in the woods and move around to wherever people need them.

Since they've been pretty much everywhere, they always seem to know at least one person from each town. They never seem to get too close to anyone, though

They are fluent in many different languages!

In the past they were paired up with another monster hunter and they made a great duo. That was a couple decades ago; they go solo now.

Years ago, an unexpected and incredibly destructive monster rampaged a small town in Central Russia. Avery came as fast as they could (they were nearby in the area) but they still couldn't finish off the beast before it tore the whole town to shreds. Dozens of homes were crushed, but surprisingly most people survived, with the exception of a couple of people who died under the rubble. Avery felt awful (this was their biggest failure in a while), and as they were searching through the rubble for any more casualties they found little baby Emile, miraculously unscathed. They took him in and raised him from then on.

Nobody, not even Emile, knows very many details about Avery's childhood, their family, their age, or really any information about them. (Emile has been trying to figure out Avery's birthday for AGES so they can celebrate, but Avery has refused to budge)

Their main weapon is 2 pairs of bolas! those are those chains with 2 balls on either end, usually made to be thrown at people's legs to restrain and trip them. they use the bolas both as restraining tools and as their main weapon, because i think weapons where you spin them really fast in front of you are cool

There's a scar over their left eye; whenever someone asks how they got it they always spin a different elaborate tale of an epic monster battle. Nobody knows which (if any) is the true story

there is a WHOLE LOT that I am leaving out if you couldn't tell. There's a huge chunk of their past that I'm leaving out because it's all a big bundle of spoilers. Someday I will be able to elaborate more on Avery!

[ID: a picrew made by djarn of Avery. They're smiling, their head is tilted slightly, and there's a scar over their left eye. Their hair is tied half-up half-down. They're wearing a black shirt with "òwó" on it and a blue jacket with an aromantic flag pin and a pansexual flag pin. the background is an agender flag.]

These are my main OC's! I have more (Orion, Nottwyrm, "Noodlearms", etc.) but these 3 are the main ones that I post about. :3 thank u for asking!!!

If you have any questions about any of my characters I always welcome asks!!! 💖

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

12. On Your Side

Decided to publish what I had worked on before my hiatus, mainly for Tina and nem, as a Xmas thing. Ion celebrate that shit, happy holidays or whatever. I was hoping to have completed the story by now, but with my break for mental health, I guess it's either pushed back or gonna be abandoned. Will know in a couple of weeks or so what, if anything I intend to do with it. Its an Apex centered chapter. I'm still on hiatus. You can leave a review if you want to, but don't message me about Simon or this story. Thanks.

*The Grace St. Catherine Playlist, featuring songs used in chapter and songs that inspired the chapter*

“Even through the darkest phase

Be it thick or thin

Always someone marches brave

Here beneath my skin…” Grace let the music play in the background as she tried to do all of the things suggested to her by her “spiritual advisor,” Sunny, whenever she moved into the place. She was doing more drawing - mostly sketches of carnage and rage. She was journaling a lot, mostly in the form of a narrative told by a hypothetical fictional character, because admitting to the things that she was doing on paper was a huge no-no, so she simply projected her life through her journaling character, The Saint, whom would never be referred to by name in any of the entries. In this particular one, The Saint was contemplating calling The Shadow. What would the conversation even be like? He would tell her how bad she was for being mad at him. She would tell him that she only hurt bad people, but he hurt a friend… he hurt her. That was different. So different. But she MISSED him.

She had began to sketch him. She was more of a doodler/drew cartoons and comics on her phone and stuff… but she was shut up in this place for hours at a time and hadn’t really used a pencil and a sketch book seriously in a while. Then, it got away from her. After a few days, she had almost filled up a sketch book with drawings of Simon. She winced when she thought of his name. She had been avoiding speaking it and thinking it. “And constant craving has always been…” She stared at the phone, then changed the track. The last thing she needed was to think about craving, of all things…

Now, that the phone was in her hand, she glanced around, feeling that paranoia that she had since she left home. Nobody was watching her here, but she felt obligated to check, anyway, and upon verifying what she already knew - that nobody was fucking watching her - she went to visit his social media. Private? Since when? She checked another. Same thing. A third, same fucking thing! “UGH!!!” She threw her phone onto the couch and went to go chop wood. She didn’t really like to chop wood, but it did make her feel better to swing a tool and see destruction come out of it.

“Old wounds

Old fights

Another day goes by

I'm not playing by the rules

They can't take me for no fool…” Her phone continued singing as she went outside.

.

Jalicia Barrett was not the same type of watch as Grace was. She obviously wasn’t as upscale as Grace, so she wound up having much to do that was necessary, unlike Grace’s schedule of playing a typical woman. Now, to say that Jalicia was typical would be a stretch of the imagination, as Simon knew that none of Grace’s people were that and she had possibly an unreasonable amount of tiger items, but she was closer to an average person than Grace was.

She went to Seattle University, but hadn't selected a major. She was still doing general studies after taking a few years to get her GED (She began trying at 16 and only successfully received it less than a year ago), so.. a freshman in college, which wasn't bad. She was 19. She worked on campus and seemed to have other odd jobs, like being a delivery driver or personal cab, and stuff at that Infinity Foundation place.

She didn’t have rich parents. From what Simon was able to find, she was never reunited with them, whoever they were. If they had lived in Seattle when she was taken, there was nothing on file to indicate that she was reported missing. Of course… he didn’t know what her real name was. The name Jalicia Barrett only became a name for her in the year after Grace left the mental institution. He knew that was likely connected.

Maybe… she wound up in the system after Grace touched base with them? At any rate… whoever the girl who was brought into trafficking had been, she was now Jalicia Barrett, a girl who began existing when she was 13 or 14 and obviously probably didn’t know her DOB either, as it was on record as the day that her name was given, her documents were created all around the same time, so she had to either have been a baby whenever she was taken, or simply never knew her personal information like birth date and full name.

BUT, she did have prints on file, so she probably had birth records that could be matched to them somewhere. He didn’t know if he wanted to get into that… or if she hadn’t done so herself and simply decided that life was easier being the person that she knew herself to be now. He certainly couldn’t imagine separating from his loved ones and then not finding them for a decade or so and then just… trying to pretend that they were family after all or something. She had the family she wanted… Well… she lost one. He felt bad for her. It wasn’t the same, but whenever he lost Grace, he felt like his world collapsed. To even pretend to understand how this woman must feel losing her life partner after years of being together, he wouldn’t insult her like that. Instead, he looked into the details surrounding that. Whatever happened to that investigation?

He’d provided an alibi for them and the police never spoke with him again. He’d done his best playing ignorant and pretending that everything was casual. Whenever they asked him about Heath, he said that he didn’t know Heath. “I’ve only met him once and he didn’t show up to the gathering… Is he alright?” They didn’t answer, just wished him a good day.

Now, he was looking through their paperwork and he was sure that he might find something interesting, if not useful. Simon had no idea what he was looking for with these other people. Something that led him back to Grace’s trail, and he had to figure out how they worked to even presume that…

Here’s the thing… Simon wasn’t going to write himself off as wrong or going too far. For crying out loud, the things that these people did, and they felt justified in their reasonings, so he wasn’t going to allow himself to feel bad. Grace might need him, and Xander was keeping her away from him. He cursed himself over that gun, though. However, IF she would have just let him explain that he only had it to keep Xander from getting it! He didn’t know what to think when he holstered it, but it wasn’t for her! Why would he hurt her? He scanned through paperwork, trying to take his mind off of Grace’s lack of faith in him and then, he was sure that he found what he needed. If not; he’d found something interesting. “Huh.”

.

Grace called Sunny for more tips. She was doing everything that she told her to, and reading all these books and articles, ordering all sorts of holistic woo woo shit, and trying SO HARD just to not lose it out there… Sunny was always a mood lifter for her though. They would talk for however long, laugh, joke, sometimes get entirely too serious and cry… they hadn’t done this in a long time, but Grace had been calling her more frequently lately and, well… it was necessary for her to be available.

“It’s like… I don’t want to use this word lightly, and I especially can’t tell Xan, but I feel like I’m like… addicted… Does that sound stupid?”

“Xander doesn’t own the word addicted, Grace. He’s struggled with a few drugs over the years, but one of the reasons is because he’s sick. Some people can try things and never really become addicted to them because those things didn’t appeal to them in that way. This dude appealed to you in a way that your body wasn’t used to. He got into your mind, and most likely changed the chemical balance. Affected your hormones and shit, only to find that he wasn’t what you thought and now your chemicals gotta try to balance back out without his influence, so no, it doesn’t sound stupid. Perhaps melodramatic, but I don’t know. You could be addicted to the way that he made you feel. Going through dick withdrawals is a struggle that people don’t give enough credence, too.”

Grace snorted. “I’m… not… going through that. We weren’t like that. I don’t even know if he ever was into me that way? It was like… I don’t know… I never got the feeling that he desired me physically.”

“What feeling did you get?”

“For the most part, that he wanted me around. I don’t know why. He never seemed to be asking anything of me but to let him be near me. He was very good about not entering my personal space, and even when I got comfortable, he still never made any move on me or anything like that. He just seemed to like to be… present.”

“Okay, but what would he be doing when he was present?”

“Sometimes nothing, really. Just looking at me, or listening to me. Sometimes, we were doing our own thing - me reading a book. Him playing video games or writing, or… Idk, working on a cosplay outfit.”

“Girl, on what?”

“He’s a fantasy fanboy before he’s a fantasy writer, so he you know… makes cosplay costumes and stuff for conventions. Whenever he’s not scheduled to be on a panel at one… This is something that I’ve observed, not something that he’s said. He… doesn’t talk about himself a lot. Not at all, come to think about it.”

“Xander makes him out to be a literal serial killer.”

“Xander hates him. What about 808? What does she say? Xan seems to think that he “got to her” or played some kind of mind games or something?”

“Well… she didn’t say anything to me about him, except that he was very talkative and apparently worships you. She was pretty thrown off guard at how comfortable he seemed with being caught and held hostage. She said that he is either the most nonchalant person ever or the craziest fucking person that she’s ever drawn a weapon on, because he acted like they were buddies just chitchatting, and we all know that he knows what we do to people.” Grace didn’t reply. Sunny offered, “Well, whenever I think about the shit that I went through with Xander and how we always seem to find each other in the dark, it's usually in terms of No Angel.”

Grace said, “Beyonce’s No Angel?”

“”Is… Is there another one? Because, if there’s anything AND a Beyonce song, just go ahead and assume that I am only speaking of the Beyonce option.” Grace laughed. Sunny recited, “ I love you even more than who I thought you were before.” Grace held her breath, unsure of what to say to this. Sunny continued, “All I mean to say is that sometimes people aren’t who we initially thought. Sometimes they’re worse. Sometimes they are seriously fucked up. Sometimes, they’re absolute trash… But… you might still love their ass.”

“Damn, Sis… Is this how you feel about Xan? Because those are some hard descriptions.”

“No. Xander is definitely a hot mess, but I was absolutely describing your… thing… over there. Jimony?”

“Simon,” Grace said, trying not to laugh.

“Right. I knew it had “mon” in it.”

.

Jalicia didn’t know what it was about that station that made her put it on all of the time, but her streaming service generally stayed on an old r&b from the 60s and 70s station, and sometimes 80s and 90s, whenever she was at work. She had a journal with a tiger on the front that she was writing down poetry in, but she could never think of titles for any of her work, and she didn’t feel like she was that artistically creative, so she’d title everything, “(Song Title) Plays in the Background,” whether or not the song had any bearing on the poem. Today’s? Let’s Groove Plays in the Background.

Work was a little bit overwhelming, these days, but only because of the things that had nothing to do with it. The fact that she wouldn’t just receive flowers sometimes and have her coworkers wonder why her boyfriend was this thoughtful, but they never saw him. Or the days where she would pout about being broke and having to pack a stupid sandwich and he would insist on having something sent to her at lunchtime, if he didn’t just make her a different, more fulfilling lunch instead. The way that she would get a text whenever he went on his own lunch break, and it would just be some hilarious video or a new thing that they just HAD to buy. Work was overwhelming, because what she had leaned on every shift was the fact that he’d interrupt it with something nice and that she would leave there and get to see him every day.

Now, she was listening to Earth Wind & Fire, in a gray pantsuit and fooling around on her computer while she waited for something to do. She heard the tone of the doorway and she got up to see if somebody needed help. It was a college bookstore and she was often far overdressed, but all she had aside from her typical attire were the pantsuits she wore when she had to do something other than be casual - like functions and interviews or whatever, so that was what she wore to work.

The O. He looked at her like they were friends or something. A polite smile and warmth in his eyes. She stared him down and reached for her phone. “Hi. Can I just have a moment?” He asked. She texted: The O is here and hit “send” to 747. “It won’t take long, I just wanted to give you something.” The O reached into his bag and Jalicia had already identified four common objects in her immediate surroundings that she would definitely use as a weapon against him if he tried something slick. He handed her an envelope, one of the big yellow ones and she frowned.

“I’m not taking whatever that is. For all I know it’s got anthrax in it.”

He laughed and opened it himself, pulled out the paperwork and handed it to her. “I figured out a better method of tracking people down than Heath had the resources for. I know that Xander is trying his hardest, God help him, but he’s not much on a computer and some of these things are hard to find.” She took the pages and glanced through them. Simon helped her find a certain page, “I’ve guessed that you maybe didn’t know much about this part of the situation that you all walked into. The… X, I suppose you’d call him, was very paranoid that he might be on your list and he hired protection.” He pointed out a few key lines that he had highlighted. “Professional protection, and yet when the time came to protect him, Heath wasn’t shot in the arm, or hell, if they didn’t want him to escape, the leg is an option as well.”

“They killed Heath on purpose,” She said, the wind knocked out of her as she did. She tried to take a seat, but just fell back onto a table and leaned against it, knocking down several books.

“They wanted to send a message and since you all slacked up since then, I’m sure that they think that they did.” She started crying angrily and wiped her face. “Flip to the next page.” Her hands were shaking and she wasn’t sure of what she might see, but she flipped to the next page anyway. “That’s your shooter. Since he was on the job, he confessed to being the one who fired and because Heath was breaking an entering and had no family to intercede for an investigation… the cops seem to be fine with what happened to him, despite the fact that our laws state that a person may not use more force than is necessary given the situation.” She shut her eyes and squeezed out tears, her fists tightly holding onto the phot0 of the man. “Next page are his personal details. Do with it whatever you think is best. I just thought that you would want to know.”

She shivered and cried, “This doesn’t mean that I owe you anything. I didn’t ask you for this and I don’t feel indebted to you for it.”

“Jalicia… I’m on your side. Whatever side Grace is on, that’s where I am. I did this because I want to help.”

“Well… This is the most help you’re getting from me - Xander’s on his way.”

“Then, I’ll be on my way.” He had that polite smile again and she was almost terrified how easily it came to him. He left quite a few minutes before Xander arrived.

She instantly fell apart as soon as she saw him, handing him the papers and explaining to him what he was looking at. She left work and was going to call Grace, but Xander snatched her phone while he was driving. “No, what if he. like, cloned your phone or something?”

“What? This ain’t Person of Interest, Boy. What the fuck are you talking about, Bro? He’s rich but it’s not like he’s Lex Luthor.”

“We can’t chance it. He’d do anything to find out where she is.”

“Give me yours, then.”

“Just hold off. I need to check this dude out. For all we know, Simon is just blowing smoke up our asses to get us to lead him to Grace.”

“The fact that you think it’s more likely that he falsified a bunch of police documents than that he simply sneaked them away is making me wonder about you .”

“I let him get too close to her before, and I’m not doing that again.”

Jalicia snatched her phone back from him and they wrestled for it but, he eventually heard Grace on speaker.

“What is happening on that end?” She asked, laughing a little bit nervously.

“We need to talk about Simon,” Jalicia said.

“I disagree with that sentiment!” Xander said in the background.

There was a pause. Grace was panicking a little bit. Did they know that she was trying to check his pages? That she was trying to see if she could make a temporary account just to try to get to them? How would they know that, Girl?

Jalicia added, “It’s about Heath.” Xander turned red in the face and he shook his head and tried to breathe. “Oh, fuck you, Xan. You left him there to die. The least you could do is chill out while I speak to Grace about this.”

“Whoa… That’s not extremely fair. The Apex protocol is that if somebody is hit, we leave and regroup. We go in with the expectation that if we’re hit, we would slow everyone down and jeopardize everything. So, Xander and I both left him,” Grace said the last statement laced with sadness and guilt.

“He pulled you out and sped away,” Jalicia said.

Xander scoffed and then burst into tears, “I’m glad that you’re telling us how you really feel.” His voice was surprisingly calm, but the ladies knew that hurt him more than anything ever had in this world.

“Tell me what you need to say,” Grace said.

“Simon found Heath’s killer.”

“Simon found a person he alleges is Heath’s killer.”

“He had all of the paperwork to corroborate it. More than Heath has ever collected on any X.”

“He had paperwork on a man who works in security who may have shot Heath dead, but as far as we know is not a bad person. He probably was just on a security job. Somebody broke into the house he was guarding and he shot!”

“WHY DID HE SHOOT HIM IN THE HEAD???” Jalicia squealed. “I’ve been over this myself, before Simon EVER said anything about it, but WHY didn’t they shoot him to survive and answer questions about what is one of the most infamous string of serial murders to ever hit the city? Why would he risk his job to kill someone that way in security, if there wasn’t a reason that Heath needed to be dead?”

“You… you think that the security dude is old Apex?”

“I think that at best, the security dude wanted to kill a person that he didn’t HAVE to kill and he used Heath as a perfect excuse, making him a shitty person, in my opinion, and at worst, he didn’t want us saying anything to anybody, because he knew why we were there!”

“But, we did release what we had on the X. The information is out there now. Nothing was done about it,” Grace added.

“Precisely! Just as nothing was done about this trigger happy buttfuck, even though our laws state that you’re not supposed to kill motherfuckers if you don’t have to!” Jalicia said. She looked at Xander, poked him in the arm and reminded him, “You were the first one to claim you’ll avenge him”

“And you told me to go fuck myself.”

“Emotions were definitely running high, but if you’re looking for the chance to make good on your word, you’ll have to suck it up and just live with the fact that Simon gave us this, like I have to live with the fact that Heath is never fucking coming home!” She got louder than she intended. Xander wiped his tears with the back of his hand, but more just poured out. He nodded, but he was still extremely upset.

“Send me what Simon sent you. I’ll let you know what I decide from there.”

“Thank you, Grace.”

Grace sighed, paused, then said, “Heath would have wanted us to get out, but even if you had driven away and left us all, we wouldn’t have faulted you… That’s the protocol. Heath knew that…”

“Does that make it easier for you?”

“No. But, we shouldn’t make it harder on each other, either…” Jalicia sighed, rolled her eyes and let more tears fall. “I’m sorry, Jalicia. Heath was the first person in the warehouse that I ever cared about. I would trade myself for him, if I could.”

“He’d never let you,” she hung up and reached out for Xander. He accepted her hand. “I was mean to you…”

“You were honest. It just fucking hurts. Heath was the backbone of this family, and everyday he isn’t here, I lose more and more respect and control. He kept me grounded.”

“Doesn’t Sunny do that too?”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Maybe you don’t let it be. Maybe the reason Heath was your rock was because you thought that you only needed one. That’s what I did, too. I didn’t even realize how much of my life revolved around him until I was just spinning in space, with nothing to pull me back. Why do you think I moved in with your ass?”

“To split rent.”

She gave a resigned shrug, but shook her head, “I thought that it would make things better, if even just to put me in a spot where I could just not think about it and not be alone. I figured I wouldn’t get over it, but that at least I would logically be able to grant myself some peace because you’re there too, and that there would be some type of comfort. Not emotionally. That’s gonna take more time than I even believe that I have left in this world. But… at least I wanted that solid ground to stand on, to be able to say, Heath would want his two favorite people to lean on each other and find some strength in his absence.” Xander sniffled. She finished, “But it didn’t matter, and I don’t even know what to do, because I thought that being around you would guarantee some balance, even if it didn’t truly help… I still have all of my grief, and I’m..” she whimpered, “So tired. And empty. And distant. My closest living friend is sitting right next to me, and I have been so alone…”

Xander pulled the van over, unlatched his seatbelt and hugged her. She wasn’t done. She was so focused on her train of thought that she hadn’t even actually noticed that Xander was hugging her. “Heath was always in my life. Before any other human that I can remember. Like, logically, I know that Grace took care of Todd and Heath took care of me… but… I don’t even remember anybody else until maybe I was 5 or 6. I know he wasn’t the only person around, but in my mind, he was. I have NO frame of reference that doesn’t involve him. He was…” She finally realized both that Xander was already holding her and that she was crying again.

She remembered something. She was 4 or 5, her brain was never good at that part. She wasn’t in school or anything. All of her special days were simply moments and occurrences. This particular occurrence. A boy with light hair, getting hurt really bad by the stewards. Heath covered her eyes and started talking about flowers. He found a new book about them. He’d help her try to read later. The noise of the boy being beaten up was in the background, but at the time, she was too young to pay any attention to it and listen to Heath. So, she listened to Heath and the beating was background noise filtered out. Afterwards, he took her to the side of the building and let her pick flowers for their new friend. The new boy was mean. He was mean to Heath and Grace had to help Heath. Then, he was nice. She looked at Xander’s face and saw that same boy, just as hurt and just as angry as the first day she recalled a memory of him.

“He wasn’t always in mine… but he was the first person who was ever just nice to me for no reason other than to be nice,” Xander said. “There’s nothing that I want more than to punish a person who would take him away from us, but to have Simon, SIMON, give us that…” He was red in the face and shaking his head. “He’s using it to get to Grace, and I just didn’t want to give him that kind of power.”

“Then why didn’t you just say, ‘Hey, lets not tell her where we got the information?’ If you had just sent it to her with X confirmed, instead of fighting me in traffic…”

“You didn’t give me a chance!”

“I just… This ONE thing, then maybe I can move on.” He nodded and buckled back in. “I’ll get to work on the logistics. In case Grace gives us the go ahead, I want to be ready to move as soon as possible.”

.

Simon pulled his hair up into a high ponytail. He was going to try to get it into a bun, but it had been getting longer and thicker, and while he’d normally just pull the top part into a pony and let the rest hang, but it was windy and he was going to be pretty active, so high ponytail, it was. He had been checking out the X that he gave Jalicia, to see if they were going to make a move on him. He wasn’t positive of the typical turnaround time on an X, so he simply went to watch every night. He wasn’t going to do the car. Dude was in security. He’d probably make him.

Instead, he parked around the block and went to a big tree across the street from the X’s home to post up. He had binoculars and an awkwardly applied hunting tree seat. It wasn’t made for him to be up this high, but he situated it only to have a seat that wasn’t tree bark. He spent the time that he wasn’t watching the house on social media, checking out Sunetra’s pages… which… apparently she went by “Sunny…” which… Simon noted to himself that he had seen a little sun tattoo on Xander, and whenever he came across Sunny’s very tasteful artistic nudes, he saw that she had a little tattoo, as well, on her chest, of an “X.”

Her photos were really nice and she seemed to… possibly be a stripper? He checked a few of her posts and captions. She hashtagged #burlesque in some of them, so maybe not a stripper, but something risque. She was in the fine arts program in college, for dance and had many posts from the Infinity Foundation of her doing dance workshops, yoga, and stuff. She had a lot of witchy posts, too. Simon rolled his eyes, but kept scrolling. Several of her posts were really funny. He noticed a yoga and meditation program that she would be doing at a community center and saved the post.

He watched the X for about a week and a half when he saw the van pull up. In the dark, he couldn’t tell who people were, but two had gotten out and through the binoculars, he could tell that Xander was one and the other was Jalicia. He checked the van. That was an unfamiliar one behind the wheel, but he presumed that it was Sunny or 808, and that he simply couldn’t see them... There was a loud noise and screaming in the house. He turned to see that Jalicia had a knife to a woman’s throat while Xander was escorting the X out, with his hands up. He got him to the van, injected something into his neck and tossed him in. Jalicia unhanded the woman, but appeared to take a bag along with her and the woman ran next door.

Jalicia had taken all the phones with her. The woman had to run next door to call the police. Simon realized that she was probably doing that, and he got out of the tree to get back to his car. If he hurried, he might be able to catch the van!

He went the direction that they had, and when he came to what he thought might be them, he put on a mask of his own, but it was a medical mask, just because that was… possibly not as weird as if he wore like a clown mask or something. They had NOT handled that in the way that he expected. Something told him that they either were rushing or desperate. He wondered why.

But, whenever they pulled the van into an old train station, he parked behind the building and got out of his car. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is fucked up.  

He could hear their voices, and he followed the sound of them, but didn’t come from the shadows of the building. They were dragging the bag into a field that Simon knew that he had passed several times in his life, but never paid much attention to. Nobody really did. Was this where they buried them? He wondered. He only saw Jalicia and Xander, pulling the body bag with one hand and carrying shovels in their free hands. Where was the driver? He went around the other side of the building and the van was pulling off. Where were THEY going? He couldn’t start his car. Jalicia and Xander weren’t far enough away to not hear him. He groaned and went to look back towards the field. He couldn’t see anything beyond the tall grass, but he used his phone to try to record where they were… maybe he could find it in the daytime. Besides, they were now far enough away that he could start his car without alerting him. He felt like he had enough.

Simon drove home, wary of a van behind him for a portion of the way. He took some loops and turnarounds that he wouldn’t usually take before he was comfortable that they weren’t following him and it wasn’t the van… but after he got home, he noticed at the bottom of the hill a van, and it looked like the van that they used. It looked like the van that he was nervous might be following him. But. There was no way that the van had found him after those turns. Was it one of them, just letting him know that they knew he had followed them?

He rushed inside and looked out of the curtains. They were there for a moment. They turned the van off and he took a deep gulp and reached for one of his guns. They got out of the van and stood, staring up at the house. DEFINITELY APEX. This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.This is fucked up.

They stared, wearing a gold mask, a tam hat, and the all black outfit that he had gotten used to, but then not seen for a while. “Grace!” He said. He put his gun down and rushed out of his door. “Grace?” He called, but she rushed back into the van, tossed something out, and peeled off. “Grace…” He ran down the hill and out to the road. She was gone… He looked down to see what she had thrown down on her way off. It was a Stop sign with a red squiggly line underneath the word “Stop.” He picked it up, roared and began to smash it against the pavement, before flinging it into the middle of the road and going back into his house. He called Jalicia and she looked at her phone, not recognizing the number, so she answered it. “Hello?”

“Was that Grace?” a voice asked.

“What?”

“The person who just followed me home and told me to stop. Was that Grace?”

“No,” was all that she said. He hung up. She put her phone away.

“Who’s that?” Xander wondered.

“Non issue,” she said. It wasn’t a complete lie, and there was no way that she was about to ruin their night with… whatever that had been about. She and Xander were still digging when their third came walking up, her gold mask on her face and a shovel in hand. “Girl, where did you rush off to?”

“I knew he was gonna still be alive,” she said and pulled up the mask onto her head. Sunny. “Had to make a stop,” she said with a shrug. She and Jalicia stared at each other a moment, and Xander kept digging, oblivious to the exchange of them questioning each other with their eyes. It was short lived, because Grace was connecting for the video call. “Hey, Girl, Hey!” Sunny cheered.

“Bitch, I’m so mad that I’m not there right now.”

“Be mad at Jimona,” Sunny said.

“Simon!” Grace said, laughing. Then, more solemnly, said, “Draw a squiggle right across his face, for me.”

“Sure will,” Sunny said, pulling her knife out. “What are you listening to, Woman?”

Grace checked the info on her streaming, “Hurts by Emeli Sande.”

“That’s dope. Send me the link to that.”

.

Simon was at the apartment now, crying and sitting in front of the cameras. He wondered if she would return with them, but looking at the feeds he had placed to check the outside of their homes, he noted that the three entered Xander and Jalicia’s home at 3:47 am… and that… wasn’t Grace. It was the woman that he had initially identified as, “One who looks like Grace.” It was Sunny… He flared his nostrils and set an alert to remind him about the yoga and meditation at the community center.

His phone began to ring while it was in his hands. It was a private number. For a moment, he let his heart accelerate. “Hello?” He answered.

Silence. He sighed and almost hung up, but… he felt something. His tears stopped, he sat up erect and waited. She was silent, still. He was afraid to break it, but more afraid of her losing whatever nerve she had at the moment and hanging up. So, he dared to speak. He kept his voice soft and low. Gentle, like he knew she would remember him being. “Hey…” He said. He heard her sniffle and it tore at his heart. “Hey,” he managed to say even softer. “Are you okay?” She sniffled again. “Tell me what I can do to make you okay?”

“Why did you do that, Simon? Why did you?”

“I wanted to be close to you. I wanted to know you. I wanted you… I didn’t know what to do. I was desperate. I am desperate. Please, tell me where you are…”

“You let Xander catch you.” There was the longest pause since the conversation started. Eventually, she spoke again. “I feel like the kids walked in on me doing something dirty…”

“I feel like it’s none of ‘the kids’ damn business what we do.”

“They can’t see stuff like that. They can’t see me being followed and watched, obsessively. They can’t just move on from that. You have no idea the kind of people who… Why did you have a gun?”

“Because, I had just been attacked by somebody that I know is a murderer and I was on edge…” They were quiet again. “I can keep them out of sight from now on. I can keep them away from you, at all times…”

“If I come back into town, my crew is gonna get… difficult. It won’t be safe for you.”

“I can’t prove myself to them? To you? Did you see what I found for them? For Heath? For Jalicia?... For you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Jalicia told me right away…”

“You sound like you’re smiling,” he observed, daring to smile, himself.

“I can’t help it… but… we can’t… do this, Simon.”

“Don’t…”

“We’re both in really weird places and us coming together isn’t good… for either of us, I think…”

“Please…”

“We shouldn’t be together, see each other, anything. You should… get on with your life.”

“No!”

“Bye, Simon.”

“NO!!” She hung up. He bit into his lip so hard that he drew blood, trying to keep his composure. He couldn’t even go to the gun range right now! But.. He could… go back to that field. He knew where it was. He knew where the bodies were now… he… was running out of patience, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t her fault. The longer they kept her away from him, the more confused she would be. She just needed to understand that he was on her side. If she couldn’t… she would have to learn that there were consequences for going against him.

13. A Shot in the Dark Pt 1

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Alright, everyone, this is a personal post as much as it’s a public post so feel free to scroll all the way down to the  colored text for the public part of the message but if you, like me, enjoy drama, then continue on!

So, to make a very, very, very long story short for those who don’t know, I call my birth mother Mother Gothel due to her emotionally abusive upbringing of me that caused me to suffer from severe depression, anxiety, and even hair loss! A few years ago, back in 2016, my friend-turned-sister drove down with her mother, packed me and my bags up, and gave me a place to live and start over where I’ve been able to get jobs, go to school, and become much healthier than I used to be! 

During those years of growth and recovery, however, I kept in contact with Gothel through emails and the occasional phone call. Over the years, from the safety of being hundreds of miles away, I told her that I was gay and dating a girl. The resulting emails were not pleasant and she had no problems about calling my girlfriend a whore. Lovely, right? 

Every email she has sent me has contained detailed bible quotes and scripture and needles of guilt over everything I’m doing “wrong.” She’s still “so proud of me,” however. So at least there’s that, right? 

As of recently I emailed her and told her that I will be attending a four-year university in Tacoma Washington (moving away from Illinois) to continue my education. Her resulting email was lengthy. Here is some of it - cut for length.

Hi Michelle.

... 

You have to watch everything you say this day and time, at least that is what Jesus said in the Book of Matthew 5:37-- "Let your Yes be Yes, and let your No be No. Anything else is from the evil one." (anotherwords the devil will take your words you speak and trip and mess you up land you in jail or prison for 10 yrs)That would be really sad after you work so hard for an education and degrees then let him mess you up but read in John 10:10--the enemy comes to steal--kill--destroy--but Jesus said I have come so that you may have life and have it more abundantly.  That is why Jesus said in Proverbs 18:21" Life and death are in the power of the tongue"

...

I was telling Mom on the phone just this morning we talked for two hours-- that I was going to get a restaurant job here as soon as possible and let it move me out of here--I am moveing to Battle Creek or Marshall by Sept (labor day) and that I was sooo excited that I would finally get to see you, she said either her or Carl would drive me to [REDACTED] every now and then to see you. So Yes, I feel like a bomb was just dropped on me, my heart is broken, however I hope you will be happy and I wish you well in body and spirit-- I wish you nothing but the best. Just know one thing is for sure, I read my Bible and I will tell you right now, we are living in our last days you need to be concerned about where you are going to spend eternity. I just finished up reading the book of Matthew. In Matthew 21:25 The Heading Reads: "The Coming of the Son of Man" vs 25- And their will be signs in the Sun, the Moon, the Stars--mens hearts will fail them for fear and the expectation of those things which are coming on the earth, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. vs 27--THEN they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with Power and Great Glory. Now when these things begin to happen, look up and list up your heads, because your redemption draws near". Jesus said He would give us signs in the Heavens above and the earth beaneath. All of the earthquakes that have been happening for the last decade leading up to the Austrailian wildfires, and billions of animals died, God is giving us the signs, its just like He said in Matthew 24:36-44. 

Lastly, 1 Thessalonians 4 :13--But I do not want you to be ignorant brethren, concerning those who have fallen asleep, lest you sorrow as others who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God wil bring with Him those who sleep in Jesus. For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord will by no means precede those who are asleep. For the Lord Himself will descend from Heaven With A SHOUT--with the voice of an archangel, and with the Trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rist first. Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord, Therefore Comfort one another with these words.

After the Rapture, then comes the tribulation. I have read Revelation many times and to say the least you don't want to be left behind.  In Heaven their will be 30 mins of silence that is when all Hell breaks loose down here. Just whatever you do, Do NOT take the mark of the beast if you do, then you will mark your soul for eternal damnation. Then you will hear the devil say----"Hello! Welcome to Hell!

I am saying all of this bcuz now you have a choice to live for God or for Satan. If something should happen to your body or God forbid but if someone tries to take your life or you get in an accident and your heart is not right with God--That is exactly how you will stand at the Judgement Bar. The minute you take your last breath in this body, you will be ushered into the presence of God then it is too late to make a decision there it is if the Angel does not find your name in the Book of Life, then the devil stands there waiting to escourt you to------Well lets just say---You Don't want to go there. But the Bible says you will answer for every deed done in the body good and bad.I know one thing, it can't be too much longer according to scripture. The greatest tool the enemy uses from his toolbox is that you have plenty of time--well I can say the devil is a liar cuz Jesus just says--Be Ready it is not up to us how long we get to stay down here, that is God's calling.Second Timothy 3----But know this, that in the last days perilous times will come. For men will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, unloving, unforgiving, slanderers, without self-control, brutal, despisers of good, traitors, headstrong, haughty, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having a form of godliness but denying its power. And from such people turn away! For of this sort are those who creep into households and make captives of gullible women loaded down with sins, led away by various lusts, always learning and never able to come to the knowledge of truth. 

Sister, we are living in our last days, make every day that God gives you breath in your body count bcuz you don't know when it will be your last day. There is pleasure in sin for a season--Hebrews 11:24. Whatever you do, don't let the devil take your life and your soul, it is not worth it.

Love You So Much and want to make sure your soul doesn't go to H---.  I am praying that you will have a preacher as a husband.I miss you Michelle, I miss hugging you, I miss walking up those stairs to bring your meals to you I would LOVE to hug you just one more time. That may or may not happen before He Returns ony God knows this.Please write me back when you can, you are always on my heart and mind. I have made mistakes while we were all living at 2414, I am so very sorry I pray that you forgive me if I have offended you please forgive me, I thought I had it all together. But now I see, I was just messed up and made lots of wrong choices, but God came along with His Holy broom and cleaned up my mess and said to move on. I am so glad when He forgives our sins, He forgets never no more to be remembered. All I can say is ---Thank-you Jesus.

...

Love You Forever my dearest Daughter and Friend.

This is the average email from her and I’ve been told that it’s not normal to receive emails this long talking about how she’s ‘devastated’ by my choices and how the world is going to end in hellfire soon. Please allow me, however, to show the email she immediately sent after the above.

[T]acoma is Washington's most dangerous city, with a violent crime rate of 953 incidents per 100,000 residents. While this is a relatively high rate — the 96th worst in the country — the city's incidence of property crime stands out even more. ... Indeed, the city had the country's 15th highest property crime rate in 2016

The overall crime rate in Tacoma is 138% higher than the national average. For every 100,000 people, there are 16.81 daily crimes that occur in Tacoma. Tacoma is safer than 3% of the cities in the United States. In Tacoma you have a 1 in 17 chance of becoming a victim of any crime.

Have you done the research for this city?They said Tacoma is the most violent city in Washington,I love you and want you to be happy. There are sooo many universities with the same opportunities.

How would you get around, does your friend drive? I did see how beautiful the area is but you just have to be careful I guess everywhere you go. 

As you can see, she immediately invalidates my choice - something I was very truly wonderfully excited about - and sends me a message that triggers my anxiety. I should note that she did not allow me out of the house without her even when I was an adult and over 18. If I went somewhere she had to be there with me.

Ah, but now we come to today and the email that spurred this post to creation. The above emails were sent two days ago and I have yet to respond. The email below was sent just today. 

Hi Michelle.

While I cannot apologize for what I said, It was not my intention to offend you in any way. I just went to google and typed in most dangerous city in the state of Washington and Tacoma popped up, that is out of 100 cities in the state.Okay, I know you say you have been there and all and you are no match for all of the evil there. God forbid, should something happen to you--you would be just another name and another number to them there is no much evil there they can't control it, I say to you just watch on a daily basis all of the crime that goes on in that sin city.

You better be praying about this cuz I don't think God would want you to put yourself in harms way--make a wiser choice, and God will bless you for it.Look at what happened to kobe bryant incident.... they met a very bad situation face to face and of course their was no way they could turn that around. My whole point of conversation.....sure you can do what you want bcuz you are an adult grown woman, but I would strongly advise you to pray to God about it and make a wise choice here, your life and future depends on right choices you make now.

What about University of Michigan in Ann Arbor or East Lansing University, Michigan University Kalamazoo, they are on the ten universities in Michigan. You need to reconsider your decision and think about your resourses you can get more help from family  bcuz I have all kinds of family up there and I will be up there soon. You are no match for Tacoma Washington. I only say this bcuz you are my daughter and I don't want something really bad come out of this just bcuz you are trying to get an education behind you--this calls for wise decisions.

You may never speak to me again, but I just want to inform you that you need to be very very cautious here.

Love You Forever.

... 

“You may never speak to me again.” 

...

This is the last email I have read from her and it will remain the last email I will ever read from her. I also will not be sending her any emails ever again because you know what? 

Her scared, anxious daughter Michelle Jean Anderson died and I’m what’s left - and I’m sick of her shit. 

So, hello, everybody! My name is Andy Alex Anderson and my pronouns are he/him (or they/them if you panic and forget) and it’s a pleasure to meet you! 

[draco-jenkings]

Behind the eyepatch

Artist: Draco_Jenkings Art title: After trauma Reference: Behind the eyepatch (fanfic at wattpad, autor Draco_Jenkings)

Acknowledgements:

To my dearest friend, @van3vane5, who shown me how to draw To my dear friend Seanspeciale, who had the patience to tell me where to improve it. To my estemmed friend jaozin_art (instagram), who taught me hot to use some tools in the app.

Thank you very much.

Snippet underneath 

Naruto was in tears, just by looking at the state that his son was, knelt in his office, right in front of him ...  painted in blood from his hair to toes. His long blond hair now was brownish red, and his clothes were all torn like a rag. "Boruto, I already know from what I can see, but I need to know from you the details. What happened?" The Hokage asked.

Sarada, who was also crying, was next to him, but she didn't seem to have experienced such a hellish experience as her boyfriend. "Bolt ... C'mon, everything is okay now, please tell your father what happened." She involved the bloody man in an embrace without caring if it would get her dirty. Mitsuki, also without showing signs of battle from his looks, tapped Boruto's shoulder at ease.

Boruto was trembling and, if he wasn't wearing an eyepatch in his scarred sight, his father would be able to tell that he was in a panic "I ended it, father ... I brought death to the traitors." His voice was as shaky as his body was.

"I don't understand, son." Naruto questioned.

"They can't do harm to us any longer, I killed them all." He continued, but he felt it was difficult to find the words. "So, no matter how much lingering hatred they had, after what I brought, they are powerless. They cannot even wish for revenge, much less seek it out. Konoha is safe, father." Tears were falling from his eyes.

"Son ... I'm sorry for what you experienced ... but I will need details of what you've been through and underwent" At this moment he was able to hold his tears, despite the scene in front of him shat his heart in pieces. He would never forgive Omoi.

"Doesn't he know? Omoi is still alive." Sai couldn't control himself and snipped this piece of intel.

At the same moment, Boruto heard Sai's words he stood up with a desolate expression in his face, with clouded eyes and, seeming like nothing else was around him besides a crooked idea that was rooting in his mind. "If Omoi still alive, he will seek revenge because hatred and regret are burdens that fall on the shoulders of those who are left behind." He continued his speech "Father, in order to protect the village and avenge our friends, I must continue down the path I trailed that night ...".

That face wasn't new for Naruto, he knew it very well. it was the expression of hatred provoked by the pain, the beginning of a cycle of hatred that Nagato had told him decades ago. He knew that even if his son killed Omoi, succeeding in his revenge, all he would get was nothing more than mere personal satisfaction for reaping his enemy's life. He also knew that Jiraya trusted him to find a way to end this cycle, and because of that, the trust passed on in what his master believed was unbreakable.

"You won't kill Omoi, Boruto. I know that our friends and fellow companions were brutally murdered ..." The father hesitated. He couldn't believe that this could be so hard, since he also wanted, so badly, revenge. "... but we cannot retribute evil with the same coin, otherwise, we'll become the same. Yet ..." He was thinking about this, but that was something that only his son could do, otherwise there the wickedness that was rooting inside of him would never be healed. "... I will let you go down a path, a path in which you shall not bear their revenge, yet, justice. Because of that, you will capture Omoi and bring him to be judged by an international court, since this is an affair involves two sovereign nations." The Hokage was determinative. "So, Boruto, with that clear, tell me what happened".

Boruto couldn't take away from his mind the pictures of his master and friends that he accompanied to the Lightning Palace being cowardly slain ... the scene of Shikadai pleading mercy to the enemy while he couldn't do anything... Naruto's words in his mind reflected the idealism from an era that ended from far too long. He didn't believe in the justice that courts could distribute, he knew what corruption was and, he knew that nowadays truth was plastic, which means that it is molded along with the necessities of the powerful. Konoha can be a great potency in the land of fire, but if that treason occurred, there had to be something beyond Omoi ... an interest much powerful and eloquent enough to persuade a Kage to wage war against the Shinobi Alliance. He had to find out and deliver justice by his own hands.

"Very well, father, I will tell what I remember," the sad blond man calmed himself before narrating the trauma to his father.

_________________

If you liked it, go read the complete chapter at my wattpad: Draco_Jenkings Important disclaimer: the fanfiction is for the mature public.

[houseofvans]

ART SCHOOL | INTERVIEW WITH JUSTINE JONES

Baltimore based artist and illustrator Justine Jones creates her vein of psychedelic fantasy horror drawings–filled with tiny black lines and an occasional pop of bright colors–which have been featured on the covers of Kobold Press and Warlock magazine. Using the hashtag #VisibleWomen to amplify the voices and portfolios of women comic artists, Justine has be able to do more illustrative work and character design. We’re excited to find out more about Justine’s artistic journey, her love of role-playing games, comics, art, her influences and much more. . .  Take the leap! 

Photography courtesy of the artist. 

Introduce yourself?    Hi, I’m Justine!  I’ve lived in Baltimore Maryland for the past decade and currently live in a small apartment downtown with my partner and my shiba inu Mo, who is a cool and grumpy guy.

How would you describe your work to someone who is just coming across it? I used to call it storybook surrealism, but now I guess it’s more like psychedelic fantasy horror?  Monsters and Wizards.  Lots of tiny black lines, sometimes with lots of bright intense colors.

How did you start from doodling and drawing to what you do now? I feel like it sort of happened organically.  When I was younger, I would do just pencil drawings, and then in my late teens, I got more into using micron pens.  I didn’t really discover color until a few years ago, so I’m a huge color noob.  I think a lot of it also came from working in comic shops for years and going to conventions.  Seeing all of these amazing artists grow, and thinking hey, I could maybe also do that! I first started with t-shirt designs because it just seemed really fun, and I used to have a really hard time selling prints.  People don’t need more prints, but they can always use clothes!  Now i’m getting more into illustrative work and character design, and I’m loving it!

Who and what were some of your early artistic influences? When I was a baby, my dad hung an Aubrey Beardsley print over my crib.  My mom thought it would make me deranged, and maybe it did, but it also made me love ink work and Art Nouveau style haha.  I was obsessed with sword and sorcery stuff and loooved cartoons like He-Man and She-ra, and later, Pirates of Darkwater. I also spent a lot of time in elementary school copying sexy comic book ladies from 90s comics, and I know that is pretty far from what I do now, but it’s honestly how I learned to draw.  I also copied a lot from children’s storybooks when I was little.  

What are some things that inspire the drawings you make? What are some of your favorite creatures and beings you like to explore in your art? Video games are a huge inspiration to me, from SNES JRPGs, to games like Dark Souls and Bloodborne.  Also folklore and mythology from around the world, and fantasy artwork from the 70’s, 80’s, and 90’s.  Basically anything fantasy.  My favorite things to draw are wizards and monsters.  I love body horror, anything disgusting and beautiful at the same time.  I take a lot of inspiration from Manga, like Berserk, or anything Junji Ito.  I’ve done a lot of Illustrations for Clark Ashton Smith stories, which I find endlessly inspiring, visually.  Just like, fantasy/ sci fi/ dying earth type stuff.

When did you start collaborating with Kobold Press on creating some awesome fantasy art covers for their publications?  I remember getting the email from them when I was on the way to Necronomicon Providence in 2017.  I thiiiink they found my stuff through the visible women hashtag on twitter?  I was very excited because I owned some of their adventures from back in the day when I played Pathfinder!!  Plus, I have always always wanted to draw things for table top RPGs, so it’s been really cool to actually do it! The Warlock mag that I’ve been doing covers for is awesome because it’s going for an old school DND vibe, but it’s all things that are made for 5th edition.  You can get it on their patreon, and I hiiiighly recommend it to anyone who plays 5e dnd!!  

Take us through your artistic process? What’s a typical day in the studio like? Haha extremely chaotic!  I don’t even have a real set workspace, which I really need to change, I just draw where ever. Just chill out, listen to music or a podcast, and draw.  If I’m further along in a drawing and don’t need to focus so much, I’ll watch movies or video gameπ– let’s plays while I’m drawing.  I also love to listen to/ watch things that are in theme with what I’m drawing, to give me some inspiration.  I try to go to coffee shops to change things up sometimes!  Basically I just do a bunch of sketches until something materializes, and then I will just slowly refine the sketch.  I guess it’s not that exciting, but it’s cool to see the first sketch and the finished product because in my head, the sketch always looked like the finished product, but when you go back to look at it, it’s usually just indecipherable scribbles.

What are your essential art tools and materials? 90% of my art is just done using a .05 mechanical pencil and micron pens.  I also draw everything on smooth bristol.  If I have time and want to make my lines super crisp before I scan them in, i will use a light box.   Then for color, I generally use Kyle T Webster brushes in Photoshop with my Wacom tablet.   If I’m on the go, I like to draw things in Procreate on my iPad Pro, but I’m definitely not as good at doing detailed lines digitally.  

What do you do when you’re not drawing or working on projects? How do you unplug? Haha, I wish I ever truly unplugged, I think my brain is now melded into the internet!  But mostly I love to play video games.  JRPGs and anything From Software/ Soulsborne (currently obsessed with Sekiro!)  I also love comics and manga.  I’ve been reading The Girl From the Other Side, which is a beautiful dark fairytale Manga by Nagabe.  I also just got one called Witch Hat Atelier, which has the most amazing art! My partner also owns an insane amount of board games, so we play a lot of those.  I’m obsessed with coffee, and work part time at a coffee shop, and my favorite thing in the world to do is eat good food.    

What has been the most challenging project you’ve worked on? How did you overcome those obstacles and what did you take away from it? I made a kind of cosmic horror short story in mini comic form last year for SPX, I had very little time,  and it was my first time actually writing a story/ dialogue to go with my pictures.  It was insanely challenging.  I ended up with a finished product that I’m really proud of and that I’ve gotten a lot of positive feedback on.  I think it really drove home the fact that I just need to stick with things and finish them, even if I don’t feel like they’re perfect.  I’m never going to have the time that I want, and I’m never going to feel like anything is perfect.  I can still make a great thing!  

What advice would you give someone who wants to follow in your footsteps and pursue art? Don’t spend 4 years doing nothing, but playing World of Warcraft (Or doooo?).  Uhhh, believe in yourself.  Be nice to other artists.  Draw all the time! Immerse yourself in things that inspire you!  Also, like I said before, things don’t need to be perfect.  Let go of perfect, because sometimes it’s an unattainable ideal.  Just do as good as you can, and don’t beat yourself up so much!  I’m horrible at advice!!!

What’s your best Art School tip that you want to share with folks?   Haha, I moved to Baltimore to go to MICA like, 14 years ago, and then realized I was poor, and would never be able to go to MICA… sooo… I never went to real art school.  I wanted to go so bad, and I still wish I’d had that experience, but I want other people who can’t afford it to know that you don’t NEED it.  Things are a bit harder, but you can find so much free info online if you have the drive, you can teach yourself so many things.  Don’t get discouraged just because art school isn’t gonna happen for you.

What are your favorite style of VANS? I love my lavender/ sea fog Authentic Vans, because they basically go with anything, but I am always eyeing those Sk8-His.

Anything you can share that is coming up?   Ahhhh, I have some realllly cool things that I can’t share yet, but just everyone keep an eye out (It will be very exciting, i swear)!!  As for things I can share, I’m working on some new t-shirt designs, and another comic, and also plan on drawing some more cool wizards in my spare time.   So if you wanna see some cool wizards, uhhh, come to my Instagram–you guys!  Let’s hang out and look at wizards.  And talk about wizards.  And if you don’t like wizards well, don’t come I guess.

FOLLOW JUSTINE: INSTAGRAM | WEBSITE | TWITTER | STORE 

[ober-affen-geil]

Ok, I feel things about Michael and Alex’s interactions just after Alex gets back into town and I need you all to suffer with me. This will be discussing (briefly, at the beginning) the incident in the tool shed, so cw for abuse, physical and emotional, as well as homophobia. x

When Jesse Manes took a hammer to Michael’s hand, he disabled him physically and caused irreversible trauma psychologically. But in the process he shattered Alex as well. Alex could handle his father’s abuse when it was directed at him. He suffered, obviously, but he could take it. All he had to do was wait until graduation and then he could leave Jesse Manes behind. But to watch his father turn his wrath on someone else, simply because Alex had dared to touch them, broke him. That was the moment the fight went out of him, that was the reason he joined the Air Force. He could protect himself, he knew who he was. But he could not ever risk someone else being exposed to Jesse Manes like that again.

So he left. He followed orders like a good Airman. And he built a fantasy in his head where Michael Guerin, the boy he left behind, went on to do great things. (I thought for sure when I got back from Iraq you would be long gone.) Because at least one of them could have the chance to do what he wanted right? But when he finds himself back in Roswell, after all these years, what does he find? Michael Guerin, exactly where he was before.  x  

And that makes him angry. (You’re wasting your life, Guerin.) But what makes it worse, what makes it so much worse, is that this boy (man, now) that he left behind ten years ago who has every reason in the world to hate him is still looking at him like he hung the stars. And that makes him furious.

Doesn’t he know, doesn’t he understand that it was Alex’s fault that his left hand is permanently disabled? Doesn’t he get that it’s Alex’s fault that he will never play the guitar again, never be able to quiet his mind that way ever again? How can he even look at Alex without seeing Jesse Manes? And he wants answers.

At the same time, Michael is having his own crisis. He is angry, but not for the reasons Alex thinks he is. Because seeing Alex Manes again for the first time in a decade was a sucker punch that he never saw coming. 

And what he sees makes him furious. In front of him stands a man in a military uniform (a real Manes man), taking orders from his father. The boy Michael knew had a rebellious spirit; he wore eyeliner and had piercings, and he hit back if you were stupid enough to punch him. The man he sees now has been cowed and he hates it. And what makes it that much worse is that he still loves him. Ten years and in that time he’s still just as gone for Alex as when he gave him his brother’s guitar for no reason other than kindness. There’s never been anyone else and now the man he never thought he’d see again is right there and it looks like he’s become a carbon copy of his father. And all hope he had of ever being reunited with the Alex he knew goes up in smoke. And he is angry because even though he thinks he will never have that again he still loves him. 

But then. At the reunion. Alex won’t leave him alone. And not only that, he invades his personal space without hesitation, and Michael can feel the tension singing between them. x

So he follows him, until they are alone. And Alex lets his guard down a little, because it’s Michael. Michael, who understood what it was to have a crappy home life. Michael, who asked if he was ok. Michael, who kissed him in the museum. Michael, who is looking at him like the last ten years never happened. And dammit, he’s only human. So when Michael asks him if he’d rather he was gone, he can’t lie. But he can try to stop this insane fantasy before it goes too far and he ends up head over heels again because it’s been ten years and he can’t. Not again. They’re adults. What they want doesn’t matter. And he knows from experience the real world is cruel to those who try to believe otherwise. But Michael sees through him.

Finally, he sees a spark of what Alex was all those years ago and he knows. He knows his feelings are still there. And even though he’s the one who has to reach out, he’s the one who has to bridge the gap, Alex lets him come. Then, all at once, he can breath again. Alex is here and his hands are in his hair and he’s kissing him back and nothing else matters because he has Alex. And he knows he can face anything now. 

But for Alex this is a temporary moment. He wants so badly for this to never end, but he knows when he opens his eyes he will have to walk away. So he tries to savor every second while he can. x

And the next day when Michael draws him close again, he pushes him away. But then he has some more time to mellow, some time away from his father. Some time with Maria who makes him remember who he was all those years ago. And he goes back to Michael because he needs an answer for why he keeps looking at him like they’re seventeen and Jesse Manes doesn’t exist. And Michael tears himself open and holds his heart out in his hands for Alex to do with as he will and Alex...Alex is scared.

He doesn’t know how to respond to such a raw emotion, he’s never had the opportunity to love without consequence. Not really. Not in the open. And they’re standing there under the bright, wide open New Mexico sky where nothing can hide and he feels exposed. This is a part of himself that he walled up for ten years; it’s tender and the sunlight feels harsh. So he compromises. He walks to the trailer because he knows Michael will follow. He can only hope he understands.

And Michael understands alright. All he wants is to feel Alex under his hands, pour out his heart and soul, and shout to the stars how much he loves him. But Alex doesn’t want that. So even though every fiber of his being is reaching out for Alex, he detaches himself. Tenderness be damned. If Alex wants to fuck, he can do that. x

And he spends the next few days feeling like a yo-yo because every time Alex gets closer, he pulls back again. Until at the drive in he finds a reason to walk away from Michael. And it takes weeks, but when Michael finally confronts him about it, he walks away again. For good, it seems. So the Michael that Alex sees when he pulls in to the scrap yard is beaten. He’s had enough, all he wants is to wish away his feelings and find someone else to love. But he can’t. (It’s been ten years, if he could have he would have.)

But this time. This time Alex is prepared. He faced down the beast from his past and banished him from Roswell under his own terms. When Kyle asked if he had a past with Michael, he didn’t shy from it. He couldn’t quite voice it, true, but he didn’t deny it. And now he needs answers of a different kind from Michael, and he’s ready to take a step towards the light. So he lays all his cards on the table, and when Michael paces towards him with the almost predatory look of someone who is done keeping secrets and asks him if he’s really and truly willing to take a leap he has just one answer.

Yes.

[ocoree]

Something I realized that I feel needs to be said.

Hey guys.

I know I've been kinda silent on this front, with the craziness of work, heatwave-sickness, coordinating with local artists to hopefully start up a co-op to finally have some personal studio space to get my butt out of the apartment (yay?) and get some serious headway on projects, and small project concepts being mulled over. But..

There's something on my mind that has been rocketing around my skull and rib cage since I had a random spike of self-reflection during a low-morale swing, and I feel the message it has in itself is really important to share with people, especially folks with young kids. And that message starts with a phrase I uttered at the tender age of four almost three decades ago  in the climax of extreme despair and devastation -

"I wish I was never born."

I'm going to need to preface why this statement should be a warning flag, because what happened to me back then has led to probably one of the loneliest and confusing lifespans I've had to contend with in the battle to retain the sense of self from that singular point.

Sure, I started out as your typical toddler; always getting into things, throwing tantrums, discovering how you can interact with the world... not putting your chin on a piping hot pizza cooling rack in your excitement for dinner to be ready... you know... kid things.

That only lasted until I started realizing that I was doing more things wrong in my parent’s eyes, than good. The longer that kept happening, the lower and lousier I was feeling with each failure and resulting discipline/punishment to the point I became extremely anxious on the point of severe panic when I began going to elementary school.

I don't remember what had happened when I said that phrase for the first time, but I remember the most poignant one that started the snowball rolling. My parents were in the garage with some neighbor friends socializing, and I couldn't take the strain of being a failure and disappointment in my parents eyes any further, and said them to my mother.

She laughed.

Reflecting on that moment made me realize that was the point I lost trust in the being that was supposed to be the foundation that supported my becoming my own person, lost the trust in any adult really. If adults laughed at me for crying out to them in desperation when I had no other words to express what I was feeling, ignored me when I curled under a chair hoping that if I held my breath long enough I would simply disappear from existence, who could I trust?

Certainly not my peers. I moved too much to learn how to socialize properly (and long before someone gave me the label of high functioning aspergers because of it) with other people, and had to learn to engage myself in my own head quietly tucked away in my room where I wouldn't disappoint anyone. Moving as part of a military family meant I was nervous, wary, and often resulted in incidents where the principal calling my parents was almost daily. No one saw the warning signs that something was psychologically wrong with me then. Other kids often found a reason to pin the blame on me, so I had to learn to lash out verbally in primal gutteral growls and glaring to keep what was left of 'self' safe.

You know the saying, "It's when kids are silent that you should be worried."?

That wasn't the case for me. Being silent meant I wouldn't be in trouble, would be ignored, under the radar and left to my own imagination that would later fuel my artistic processes.

Coming to Maine in the summer and winter was probably the only time I could escape that reality, and remember what it's like to be a kid again, even if my body was a few years older than I was mentally able to handle at the time. I always looked forward to coming here where I could blast down to the shore to swim from the house when I wanted, go kayaking, and toddle down to the local thrift shop on my own when in the 'city', where my stepmom had her photography studio at the time, and buy a couple bucks of pipecleaners on my own to occupy my time making dragons and other creatures.

That changed when I decided to move up there. My suicidal depression became a tool against me. I was still making mistakes, and not understanding how to fix them, or myself, due to how wildly different and extreme each social situation within the family environment was. I was a workhorse primarily - doing chores and grounds keeping through the day, expected to be up by a certain hour; later becoming the exclusive food supplier/cooker and the convenient in-house mediator to the bipolar rages of one of the parents while being expected to hold a job after I got booted out of my mother’s home again when she was fed up with my damaged psyche. I had to learn many skills a young teen/adult should not have needed to learn just to survive living in that house.

They're useful today, but I feel alienated because of how I had to learn them, and thinking, "These are skills no one else my age has because they likely didn't have to learn to watch faces and body language, anticipate what people are going to do/need, and constantly watch all sides of the immediate area for 'threats' with experience in being socially/psychologically neutral-calm when dealing with antagonizing situations, thus treating everyone around them like a cornered wild animal."

When I was with that family, my suicidal flareups went from, "Oh you're just being dramatic." to "You're just thinking that so you can try to create the most damage possible to me because you’re always out to hurt everyone, but it isn't going to work on me!" Often accompanied with triumphant patronizing glares, when on the flip side I hear from the same mouth about how the sibling took his life because he couldn't take the pain from what his family did to him any longer.

So non-blood relatives can be sympathised for their need to end their lives, but I get ridiculed for it. How many times have I looked at a kitchen knife morbidly wondering how it'd  feel? What it'd be like to just flee from the house down the road to that dock I once swam off of and just not come back up? I still flinch away from the knife if someone else holds it and swings it in my direction, and I still pull myself out of it by reminding myself of all the projects I want to do, and my animals that were the only things that were a solid emotional anchor even when they too were threatened to be ripped away from me a few times.

Heck... I almost committed to it one night after a particularly bad row when I was at the end of my wits in what to do, as nothing I did was good enough, nothing I said was the right thing, but I still stopped myself at the edge of the house deck in the torrential downpour shivering in the pitch black while a war raged in my head until my dad came out to stand beside and begged me to come back inside the house.

Why could other people do it and be sympathized, but I be villanized? Dismissed?

It's not something I bring up a lot, even when I vent to my friends about general frustrations and low-morale depressed thoughts to try to tough it out, because I learned that my needs and stresses come last to everyone else. Everyone else comes first, and take priority to every shred of emotion out of me until I have little left for myself to the point sometimes I just sit at the desk in blank torpor unable to bring myself to draw in my favorite means of meditation and self-charging for the next day of demands.

These days, all I feel like I want to do is just sleep.. sleep and maybe.. not wake up at all.. I still feel the inner 'self' yelling at me that there's still things to do, but that voice is not as loud as it used to be, and I'm having to hide away from the world more and more to re-connect with that inner fire to keep it alive.

So.. thank you to all who took the time to read that, and I wish to say it again to parents with children, or anyone who is relation to a child that hears these words -

"I wish I was never born."

- Please... PLEASE... Stop and pay attention. REALLY listen to the delivery.

What transpired to cause those words to be said may be minor in older eyes, but something had to have snapped to cause a CHILD to say words that they should never have reason to say.

I've learned things that have helped me in life since those days, but the price I had to pay for it is not a cost that should be met.

[psychosistr]

The Third Caballero- Chapter 5

Summary: A decade goes by as José and Panchito continue to search for their missing caballero. Their search (and an attempt to earn some money gone wrong) leads them to stay in a familiar building where they run into an equally familiar face.

Notes: Here’s another link to the sketches by @levtuve that inspired the fic, as those are the outfits they’re wearing in this chapter xD

-First Chapter-

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

Hope, José learned, was a fleeting resource for many people.

While he and Panchito kept true to their promise of never giving up the search for their missing boyfriend, as time wore on, many others did.

The first to give up were Donald’s extended family members and more distant friends. It wasn’t that they didn’t care, per se, it was simply that, after the first year or so, they had to move on with their lives.

Another year went by and some of Donald’s closer family members stopped holding out hope for his return, too. They were sad, but they felt it was time to grieve and move on.

After a few years of searching, and against his will, Scrooge was forced to give up, too. He’d sunk billions of dollars into search and rescue missions, using his company’s money as well as his own for the search. He chartered deep-sea expeditions, set up underwater base stations and labs, and had even bought out entire fleets of ships to find his missing nephew. Unfortunately, his money began to run lower than his board of directors were comfortable with, and they forced him to stop the expeditions and focus on his company.

Giving in to that decision did not help the old duck’s relationship with his niece in the slightest, judging from what Panchito and José heard. She still blamed her uncle for Donald’s disappearance in the first place, and hearing that he was giving up the search for her brother just widened the emotional gap between them even further. She still talked to the other caballeros every now and then, even if they never had anything more than dead-end leads or false-sightings. She still hoped, however distantly, that they would be the ones to find her brother like they promised.

The years piled up, however, and their communications with the pilot became less and less frequent as time wore on. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that they drifted apart from one another, really, they just had different things to focus on. José and Panchito had to focus on finding their dearest friend, as well as a way to restore José’s magic should the opportunity present itself, which would ultimately aid them in their primary goal.

And Della…well…Della had to look after her kids…

After she’d been fitted with her prosthetic leg, Della slowly cut off her contact with Scrooge until she didn’t even speak to him at all. She resolved to raise the kids on her own, using her trusted plane, the Cloud Slayer, as a sort of mobile home. It allowed her the freedom of flight and gave her the flexibility to keep her work-life and family-life together, often working odd jobs delivering cargo for small companies. While she did still hope that Panchito and José would be able to track down her brother, over time, her smile became less and less genuine and more forced. After almost a decade, they stopped hearing from her altogether.

It seemed, José would often think, that time could wear everyone thin eventually.

Well, except for Panchito, that is. The rooster was ever the optimist, always talking about the first things they’d do after they found Donald. No matter how many dead-ends they ran into, or how many leads turned up short, he would just smile at José and say the whole ordeal would be another funny thing they could tell their third caballero about once they found him again.

There were no doubts that, had Panchito not been by his side, José may have also given up hope by now, too. Not because his feelings for their missing comrade had diminished at all over the years, certainly not- if anything, he felt that his feelings had grown stronger due to longing. He knew Panchito felt it, too, from the way he would gaze up at the sky at night and play his guitar while singing all of Donald’s favorite songs (he said he didn’t want to get rusty while they looked for him).

No, if there was any reason he would give up hope, it would be because the sting of loneliness hurt worse the longer they went without seeing the brave duck’s smiling face.

He had Panchito by his side to help lessen the pain, of course. Ever since that horrible night the pair had become practically inseparable from each other. Maybe it was because they both sought comfort to ease the dull, aching pain in their hearts. Maybe it was because they were all they had left to each other and didn’t want to risk losing one another. Whatever the reason, they were by each other’s side every step of the way as they searched their world and any others they could find for their beloved.

Unfortunately, while they could find comfort and solace in each other to ease the pain on their seemingly endless journey, there was one thing that became more and more difficult to deal with as time went on:

Money.

Living as vagabonds was nothing new to the pair, but doing so for such a long period of time with no set location to hold down a job in proved challenging. They would scrape by selling whatever treasures they came across, stretching the little bits of money they acquired out for as long as possible. Thankfully they didn’t need to worry about housing, as Della allowed them to keep Donald’s houseboat to aid in their search (she’d smiled so sadly at them while giving them the keys, saying that Donald promised it as their home, anyway), but they still needed money for food, water, clothes, their phones, and any building supplies and tools needed to repair the boat along the way.

To help supplement their meager income, José had taken up to one of his old methods of earning quick cash- being a con-artist. It was something he had stepped away from many years ago, even before meeting Donald and Panchito. Conning innocent people out of their money always left a bad taste in his mouth, often leading to an overly-guilty conscience that would compel him to donate as much money as possible to the first person who asked him for a few dollars (often leaving him broke). He hated himself for resorting to such tactics to earn money again, and hated himself even more for dragging Panchito into his scams, as well.

Panchito was never a very good liar. He was honest and blunt and trustworthy, all qualities that José adored about the sweet rooster. However, these qualities also made him a good plant in the audience. His genuine wonder at whatever fake product or hokey slight-of-hand trick or rigged challenge that José set up would get peoples’ attention and draw them in. He was also really good at the more physical challenges, so, when he won, people would believe everything was fair-and-square, not realizing that the only reason the rooster won was due to his impressive strength and skills honed by training as a knight and his many adventures over the years.

Some scams went better than others, though, hence their inevitable need for disguises. They would pretend to be foreigner travelers as often as possible (which, depending on the country they were in at the time, wasn’t always far off). They collected pieces of clothing over the years that allowed them to pass as a multitude of cultural stereotypes, helping to further sell the illusion they were creating.

It was why, on the day they ran into someone rather interesting, they were dressed up as Russian tourists in Panchito’s homeland…

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

Panchito and José ran around a street corner and headed for the beach, a mob of angry people chasing after them. Still dressed up from their last attempted con, which involved “genuine Russian circus bear training courses”, Panchito was wearing a simple pair of black pants with a heavy red overcoat and a black Russian ushanka hat while José had lost most of his outfit in the ensuing chase, leaving him in an opened brown button-up shirt with a white undershirt and a pair of thick dark blue pants.

José spotted a way out of their current predicament and pointed to a ship down by the docks and then to a tall building a few feet away. “I believe it is time we ‘flew the coop’, so to speak.”

Panchito looked up to where his partner was pointing and grinned, quickly grasping what the other bird meant. “Ohhhh, good one, Zé!” He reached into the thick coat and pulled out his trusty lasso. He swung the rope around and tossed it into the air, easily hooking the crow’s nest of the ship and wrapping the end of the rope around his own hand for a little bit of leverage. “Hold on tight!” He said while scooping the smaller bird up into his arms.

“!!” José held on as tight as he could, clinging for dear life when Panchito took off running before leaping into the air.

The momentum and the odd properties of the lasso allowed them to swing through the air, easily crossing over the ship before the lasso released its hold and they rocketed up onto the building. Thankfully, they’d done this sort of thing enough times by now that they knew how to properly roll when they landed as well as how to stop before they reached the opposite edge of the building.

“Whoo!” Panchito laughed and sat up after they stopped rolling. “That could’ve gone better!”

“Agreed.” José said while rubbing his eyes, trying to dispel the dizziness he felt. “What’s worse, we have hardly anything to show for our troubles..” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the few pesos they’d gathered during their last con.

“Aw, don’t sweat it, cariño.” Panchito said while patting the parrot on the back encouragingly. “How were we supposed to know someone would try our lessons out on a REAL bear?”

“Você está certo.” José sighed, putting the money away. “Still, I wish we could have gotten more- this will hardly be enough to patch up the boat, and I’d rather not sleep under that hole in the roof with the storm tonight.”

“Don’t worry about that- I know somewhere we can stay.” Panchito said with a cheerful smile as he stood, offering the smaller bird a hand up.

José smiled slightly in return and took the offered hand, letting himself be pulled up onto his feet. “I am certainly open to suggestions.”

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

“This is not quite what I had in mind..” José said while eyeing his namorado’s suggested resting place for the evening and adjusting his overnight bag on his shoulder.

It was a large mansion along the coast, a twin to one that resided in Brazil. And, just like the one in Brazil, this one was in an equal state of disrepair. Originally, the matching vacation homes were set up as a bit of a joke- one located in Brazil and one in Mexico, both buildings located in areas called Veracruz. Well, part of it was a joke, at least, the main reason they were set up in such a way was so Donald could visit his boyfriends in their homelands easily while technically calling it a “work expedition” for his uncle.

Now, though, the unattended building and messy grounds served as a reminder that no one had visited or lived there since Donald’s disappearance. Apparently it was too harsh of a reminder for his family about what happened, so both locations were left to rot. Even José and Panchito had not stopped by to see the old buildings for a long time…

“I know, I know.” The rooster’s voice cut through José’s reminiscing. “But it’s close to the docks, plenty of rooms to stay in that don’t have holes over them, there’s no one here, aaaaaand-” He spun around so that he was standing in front of his partner, almost hitting him with the large hiking pack he wore on his back, and held up a single key that was by itself on a series of keychains. “It’s free!”

José could not help but chuckle slightly at his boyfriend’s cheerful demeanor. “Are you sure Senhor Scrooge will not mind?” He questioned. Even though dark storm clouds were already covering the sky and threatening to unleash their torrential downpour any minute now, he did not want to trespass on the property owned by one of their beloved’s relatives.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine!” Panchito encouraged while opening the gate and heading for the front door. “He hasn’t checked on the place in years. Besides, we’re just spending a night or two- it’s not like there’s any food for us to eat or bills to pay!”

“I suppose you are correct..” José conceded with a shrug, following the other bird to the front door just as he started to feel the air pressure shift- a sure sign of a heavy storm soon to follow.

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

Thankfully the lock only stuck a little when Panchito tried the key, allowing them easy enough access via the creaky, unused doors. They were momentarily distracted by the dust their arrival stirred up, and proceeded to open up a few windows to air the building out, forgetting to lock the door behind themselves due to their need for fresh air.

After the air was cleared and they stopped sneezing, the two birds took their time exploring the old mansion. It gave them a sense of nostalgia to finally set foot in such a familiar place after so long- it was almost like coming home after a trip, but with a sense of melancholy and longing that hung in the air.

Each hall they passed contained pictures of the Duck/McDuck family. Every smiling face from various people, most of which they hadn’t seen in years, left the duo with a growing pit in their chests.

A familiar emptiness that had not yet been filled…

José noticed that the unpleasant trip down memory lane was starting to make the rooster’s ever-present smile slip. To distract him, he placed a hand on his companheiro’s shoulder, startling the other out of his thoughts and making him look at the parrot with a curious tilt of his head.

“How about I prepare us some dinner, meu bem? I managed to get a bag of those tamarind candies you like so much.” The green bird asked with a soft smile.

That instantly brought a bright, excited smile to the other’s face, his hands clenching into fists in front of him as he practically buzzed with anticipation. “¡¿Chaca chaca?!” At a nod from his novio, Panchito let out an excited grito and scooped the smaller bird into his arms in an eager hug. “AAAAIIYYHAAA! Gracias, cariño!” He gave José’s face several kisses to show the depths of his gratitude.

José laughed merrily at his partner’s restored cheer and patted him on the shoulders, signaling he wanted to be placed safely back on the ground again. “You can have them AFTER we finish a proper meal first.”

Panchito set him down with a nod, his smile so big it practically split his face. “Okay!” He gave his boyfriend one last kiss on the forehead before finally letting him go.

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

José was pleasantly surprised to discover both the plumbing and electricity to still be functional in the old mansion (granted, he had to run the tap in the kitchen for a few seconds before the water came out clear, but at least it was working). He spent about an hour preparing an easy but filling recipe of galinhada, deciding he needed a taste of his own home after sampling so many of Panchito’s local favorites. He felt like he was technically cheating a little bit by using freeze-dried vegetables and meat-substitutes, but there wasn’t much else he could do- they traveled better than fresh ingredients, lasted longer between meals, and they didn’t have the money to get anything fresher at the moment. Then again, given that he’d seen Panchito eat a bowl of mud and snails before, he doubted the other bird would notice much.

After spooning the rice dish into two bowls, storing the leftovers in containers, and leaving the pot he’d cooked everything in soaking in the sink (he always made sure to bring some camping-style collapsible cookware and dishes with them, as it made preparing meals easier while they were away from the boat), José carried the bowls back to one of the upstairs guest rooms where he knew Panchito would be waiting.

He prepared to open the door and walk in with the food, but, hearing the other’s voice caught his attention and he stopped to peek in through where the door remained ajar. Inside, he saw Panchito sitting cross legged on the bare mattress (they’d taken the dirty covers off and tossed them in another room already, the smell was unbearable) with his back to the door. Over the rooster’s shoulder, José could make out something familiar that made his heart clench painfully.

It was an old picture of himself, Panchito, and Donald- a photo taken on their first official date to a nice pizza restaurant/arcade shortly after their second defeat of Felldrake. Many of their closer friends joked that the trio had already been dating long before that point, but that was the day they actually talked it over and decided to try going out. They had a fun day eating junk food, playing games, winning prizes, and just enjoying each other’s company. It had been a wonderful experience and a great way to mark the beginning of their romantic relationship. They capped off the evening with a walk to the park where they laid on the grass and looked at the stars. To commemorate the occasion, Donald had decided to take a group picture and, as he held his new cell phone as far out above them as he could reach to fit them all in the frame, Panchito and José decided to surprise him by planting a matching pair of kisses on his cheeks right as he pressed the button. The resulting image involved a rather red-faced duck with his beak hanging open, a grinning rooster, and a pleased parrot all looking at the camera.

José had a copy of the picture as well, framed safely and nailed to the wall in the houseboat. He wanted to preserve the memory as neatly as possible.

Panchito’s copy, on the other hand, was extremely worn and weathered. He often kept it tucked away in one of his holsters so he could pull it out whenever he pleased. This resulted in the once-glossy paper losing its shine, a large crease forming down the middle, the edges crinkling, and blurred patches to appear on the paper from the way the normally happy bird would gently caress the image of his beloved with his thumb, much as he was now.

“What do you think, mi patito?” Panchito asked the photo with a voice trying just a little too hard to sound genuinely happy. “It’s been a while since we had a nice vacation, huh? Don’t worry, though, we’re only staying a day or two, then we’ll be right back to looking for you, mi amor.” There was a pause for a moment, the normally high-levels of energy the rooster gave off draining from him as his shoulders slumped. “…We miss you, Donald…”

José frowned as he listened to the one-sided conversation. This was not an unusual occurrence, sadly. He’d walked in on such moments many times over the past decade. Every time he’d enter the room, Panchito would be startled, quickly scrambling to hide the picture and pretend he was doing something else. It was the one thing he refused to talk about and tried to keep a secret from his partner. José could not fault him for such a thing- it was likely his way of dealing with the constant stress and let-downs they endured as the years wore on.

To avoid startling the melancholy man, José walked back the way he came quietly before turning back towards the room and calling from further down the hall. “Panchi? Could you get the door, meu bem? My hands are full.” He waited a couple of seconds before walking towards the room again.

“Sure thing, Zé!” Panchito called back with his usual enthusiasm. He soon opened the door and greeted the green bird with a bright smile, sniffing the air with a delighted hum. “Mhhh, that smells great.” His stomach gave a loud growl and he laughed before taking his bowl and heading back to the bed. “Looks like my stomach agrees!”

José chuckled a bit as well, taking a seat next to Panchito on the bed. “I am glad to hear it. Your stomach will also be happy to know that there are plenty of leftovers waiting downstairs if it is still unsatisfied after your meal.”

They grinned at each other and ate their meal in relative silence, enjoying the peace and quiet as well as the taste of a good home-cooked meal. When they were done, they spread their spare blanket and pillows out over the bed and cuddled together while watching the rain fall through the window and eating Panchito’s favorite candies. It was a nice, calming way to spend the evening.

That is, until the deafening sound of something being knocked over downstairs echoed through the otherwise quiet house.

“?!!!” Both birds were startled by the loud noise and instantly shot up out of the bed and onto their feet.

“Did you lock the door?” José asked while grabbing his umbrella from where it rested by their packs.

“I thought you did..” Panchito admitted with a slight frown as he drew one of his pistols.

They shared a look that communicated their thoughts to each other perfectly: It was likely some burglar that wanted to ransack the old building thinking it was abandoned. Nothing they couldn’t handle, really- the crook would probably run off the moment he saw Panchito’s gun. If not, the poor fool would be taught a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget…

Armed and ready for a fight if necessary, the pair made their way back down the stairs as quietly as possible. They followed the sounds of things banging against each other and crashing to one of the downstairs master-suites.

They froze momentarily when they noticed which room the noises were coming from: Donald’s old room. At all of the vacation houses Scrooge owned, there were special rooms set aside for himself, Donald, Della, and one or two other close family members they would take trips with on a regular basis such as Gladstone or Fethry.

Righteous fury burned through the two caballeros at the thought of some petty thief rifling through their beloved’s belongings. With his gun raised in warning, Panchito kicked open the door.

“¡No se mueva!” He shouted first in Spanish, then repeated it again in English to cover any language gap. “Don’t move!”

They saw a white feathered duck on the other side of the room, standing in front of a large framed portrait of Donald with his uncle and his sister. The intruder had his back to them and had apparently been in the middle of picking up some fallen knick-knacks and miniature diecast boat figurines from the dresser nearby. He was dressed in a dripping-wet green jacket and a black cap that was sitting askew on his head.

José got an odd feeling looking at the intruder. Something about him felt..different..

“Turn around.” He said firmly, keeping his umbrella tight in his fist and preparing to lash out if need-be.

The intruder slowly turned around to face them, raising his hands above his shoulders to show he was unarmed. Once he was facing them fully, they could see two things.

The first was the rest of his outfit, which consisted of a simple but dirty (and equally soaked) yellow-brown sweater under the coat and a golden necklace with a purple glass center.

The second was that he seemed completely and utterly terrified. His eyes were screwed shut and his whole body was trembling.

Panchito’s previous harshness faded slightly at seeing how scared the duck looked. “Abre tus ojos.” He commanded while keeping an eye on the duck. “Come on, look at us.”

The duck hesitantly complied, opening one eye nervously just a sliver. “……” Unfortunately, that only seemed to frighten him more when he saw Panchito still holding his gun. “!!” He moved as if he was about to try ducking or running away, but he stepped on one of the small boats still littering the floor and slipped, his back and head hitting the wall and his hat slipping down over his face.

José relaxed slightly after witnessing the clumsy display. This intruder was clearly not a threat. He reached over with his umbrella and lightly pressed down so Panchito would lower his pistol. “I think it is safe to assume this one is not dangerous.”

“Yeah.” Panchito agreed while holstering his gun. “The only one he’s hurting is himself.” He looked at the duck across the room again and called over. “It’s okay! We won’t hurt you! Estás a salvo aquí! Can you…stand…uhh…”

Panchito’s concerned questioned died on his tongue as the intruder did just that.

As the duck stood up, his hat fell off to reveal the messy little tuft of feathers on the top of his head. He rubbed at the spot on the back of his head that had hit the wall and opened his eyes in the process. Once he was standing up straight again, he looked at the other birds across the room from him with a raised eyebrow, likely confused over why they were both staring at him with such wide eyes.

They couldn’t help but stare, though. Not with how, when looking at the duck in front of them and the photo directly behind him, they were looking at the EXACT SAME FACE.

“D..Donald..?” José’s voice shook as it left his beak, the grip on his umbrella going slack and causing it to fall to the floor at his feet.

It was impossible…

It couldn’t be…!

It was-!

“Donald!” Panchito shouted with tears already forming in his eyes. “¡Mi amigo!” Unlike José, who was still frozen in place from the shock, Panchito was already running across the room to scoop the duck up into his arms and hold onto him tightly. “AAAAAAH!” He pulled back just enough to look into the confused duck’s eyes, words firing out of his mouth a mile-a-minute. “Where have you been?! We’ve been looking everywhere for you! We got Xandra and the girls to help, and your uncle sent submarines, and me and Zé traveled all over and-!”

Then, with a confused frown and a voice that was so very different from the one they associated with that face- one that sounded deeper and far more “normal” and with a slight Spanish accent- the duck Panchito had been hugging so enthusiastically asked one simple question that caused their raised spirits to plummet once again:

“Who’s Donald?”

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter-> 

End Notes: Just wanted to put in a quick description of the food here for those who’ve never had any of it before: Chaca chaca is a spicy tamarind candy- when I was little, my friends from Mexico would try to dare/trick me and my sister to eat it because they thought we would find it too spicy (my sister did, but I loved spicy food, so the joke was on them xD). Galinhada, on the other hand, is a Brazilian chicken and rice dish that you can mix in with vegetables like peas, peppers, or whatever you really want as long as it’s got chicken and rice- it’s a really tasty and filling meal that my Brazilian friend’s mom used to make pretty often and share with us as thanks for giving her some fresh saffron and turmeric (my grandfather’s sister’s husband was from India, so they would bring us some spices whenever they stopped by- saved us SO much money because that stuff’s expensive XP).

Translation Notes: 

“Você está certo.” - "You're right."

mi patito - my duckling (I just love the trend I see of them calling Donald duckling x3)

“¡No se mueva!” - “Don’t move!”

“Abre tus ojos.” - "Open your eyes."

Estás a salvo aquí! - You are safe here!

[demytasse]

[Shinra & Shizuo] Inebriated Idiocy

     The situation required contemplation of certain moral ramifications, as brief as that consideration might last.

On one hand, alcohol was said to be the window to someone’s truest thoughts; bring about their most genuine feelings and unconscious desires. On the other hand, Shinra was an intellectual that keenly understood the human psyche; he knew better than to believe societal nonsense. In actuality, alcohol only lowered someone’s inhibitions enough to vocalise thoughts exactly as they formed; this included, but wasn’t exclusive to situational opinions, primal reactions to anything remotely sexual, and sober observations that hadn’t been sussed out.

So honestly, Shizuo letting himself into Shinra’s apartment with an odd request might have coincidentally been his own influence, the other day asking for blood and marrow samples in jest, yet again. Which the tease seemed to continue its bumble ‘round his friend’s absent mind.

    Not having much going on up there must explain why it’s still relevant.

His drunken stupour was no different than a conclusion from a simple dream; what was sorted alongside other curious tidbits gained while conscious, and that scientific proposal hadn’t been determined trash or data just yet, despite it being the same ol’ same old.

That being said…

    “What other opportunity would I have short of drugging him myself?” Shinra hummed; gathered vials and tools, bounced through his preparation. “Morally speaking it checks out if I didn’t administer the drug. After all, he came to me pre-doped! Haha." 

He glanced over at Shizuo who somehow managed a cool guy pose upon the examination table, simultaneously a blathering mess — slurring incomprehensible words and half-baked thoughts. All to which seemed on par with what Shinra normally mocked, so it assured that no bad karma, nor bad blood would arise.

    ”…it was the least I could do,“ Shizuo concluded what had been internal dialogue.

    Shinra focused on his assembly, "hmm~? I didn’t catch what you did." 

    "Drink.”

    “Then that wasn’t the least you could do, right? That would’ve been not drinking, since doing nothing is the less than something active.”

    Shizuo looked annoyed. “Meant I didn’t drink randomly, asshole. I did it ‘cause…” he spaced, pinched his nose. “…ugh, there’s a reason. Just…whatever.”

    “That’s fine, Shizuo. Your oldest friend doesn’t need an excuse for your impromptu visit. Especially since you’re granting me the honour of—”

    “Tom!” A heavy hand slammed on the table.

Shinra jumped — juggled a device, caught it by the tubular tail before it hit the floor.

    “E-ehh?” his pulse refused to steady.

    “Tom’s birthday. We went for drinks. 'Parently Vorona’s a heavyweight.”

    Shinra laughed, kind of embarrassed for his friend. “I don’t think that’s actually the term you’re going for…" 

    "She cheated.”

    “How so?”

    “She’s Russian.”

    “You’re honestly the type to play into stereotypes, Shizuo?”

    He groaned, “she shoved vodka on me. 'Don’t handle it well.”

    Of course, it’s some oddball connection, nothing offensive.

    “And she knew that?”

    “No.”

    “So it was more that you couldn’t handle the defeat!”

    The drunk grunted. “Ya wanna die?”

    Shinra waved in mercy, “no no! Let’s just move on!!”

     Though the more Shizuo spouted trash fragments, the more difficult it was for Shinra to sway his conscience that this was alright, as maybe the blood alcohol level was higher than he’d anticipated.

Every step of drawing blood was a joke to Shizuo. He laughed while his sleeve was rolled up, mocked the concentration Shinra wore while he struggled to stick the needle in; knocked the doctor’s glasses askew like a young brat that thought himself a slapstick comedian. 

    Unamused, Shinra adjusted his frames with a latex-free wrist. “Please stop.” 

    “I kinda felt bad. Told ‘im thirty was just a number,” he disrupted the blood-pull with a messy gesture.

    “Shizuo, why are you so animated?!”

    “He said he was twenty-seven! Whoops.” 

    “Yeah, you’re an idiot, we get it,” Shinra paused between a third attempt.     “Probably, haha.”

It was then that he noticed how flush his patient was; how boyish his crinkled features were, and how Shizuo’s jovial nature was too foreign to be anything but drunkenness. Blurredly he watched the other above half-mast lenses, but a thought with prescription clarity hit him in result of the study — the vision of a perturbed Celty demanding that her held out PDA be read.

    //It’s taking advantage of Shizuo!//     //!!! N-n-not in that way, p-pervert!//

It wasn’t actually Celty’s textual wisdom, but his own beratement spoken through her beautiful voice, that of course he’d long ago created for her in place of having none to speak with. It was a flurried dissuasion he wouldn’t follow without her image affixed, whether in physical or mental form.

Thus Shinra was defeated by his own imagination. 

    “Come on,” he sighed, “I’ll set you up on the couch for the night." 

    “Oh…uh, sure.”

Shizuo stumbled off the table and stabilised when a hand supported his back to send him along the path to the living room. As Shinra motioned his follow, he spotted a rolled bandage that he’d previously readied. 

His decade awaited experiment may have been a bust, but he had an idea that might give him a chuckle the next morning.

—

    The recovering drunk studied a cross at the crook of his elbow. It screamed at his memory bank in vibrant fuchsia; with consternation Shizuo recognised the bandage as he recalled swaths of highschool peers wore them after donating blood; an annual fashion accessory that Shizuo never got to sport — only ever able to bling the trash cans with broken needles.

That indicated only one thing in the present: he’d been pin-pricked by an advantageous prick, and he was hardly impressed with how Shinra tagged him without any recollection.

    "Oh! You’re up earlier than I thought you’d be,” the devil spoke at the doorway, audaciously donned his goofy grin, with a coffee mug in hand.

    “Shinra…” he growled, “wanna explain this?”

    “I’m curious to hear what you think it means! I wouldn’t be shocked if you’re either right or wrong.”

The silence grew stronger, Shizuo’s annoyance grew palpable, and for a split moment Shinra mused over the spontaneous prank.

    Perhaps I got tipsy off the atmosphere last night and made my own drunken regret…

Which he externalised as a solo ‘eep!’, a wild scramble upon slippery slipper footing; an aerial trail of coffee in his wake. 

To the carpet’s relief, the liquid was suspended mere inches above it, encapsulated in shadow. With luck, Celty formed it within a second’s notice as she was hastily passed by two scuttling idiots.

    “I’m innocent! Innocent, I swear!”

    “Like hell ya are!”

Celty puffed out air too exhausted for the early hours. 

    At least it’s spilt coffee and not blood spill.

—

    It took a few laps around the apartment for the duo to wind up on opposite couches in a truce. Celty, their moderator, sat close at Shinra’s side to prevent a young death.

    “You see, Shizuo, as you claimed you were in full control of your faculties, so I kindly decided to fulfill your request.” Shinra rubbed at a wallop injury at his crown. “which seemed a fair assumption since you weren’t acting any less intelligible than usual." 

He was forced to squint while Celty futzed with the bent plastic and metal of his glasses. 

    “Lucky you, I’m perceptive enough to notice little details which proved that you were, in fact, inebriated. I stopped before I collected any samples.”

Whether or not Shizuo’s grunt was an invitation for the rest of the schpeel, or if it was an indignant ‘fuck off’ made no difference.     “Feel free to leave a tip for my better judgement. I know it’s not customary for doctor visits, but I’m never too humble to decline monetary praise.”

A shadow placed glasses back on his nose, but he immediately let them slip back down when a glare across the table was in clear view. The hangover effect must of have worked mental lapses between Shizuo’s comprehension of insults, thus he remained in a slump with exhausted shadows below his cold eyes.

    "Yanno, that better be the treatment you give Celty, or so help me…”

    “A-ah, she can’t get inebriated in the first place, or drink for that matter—”

    “So you’d take advantage of her if she could??”

    “No, no! Never! If anything I want her to reveal her own desires to have me sweep her into fits of romance…” he darted his eyes from Shizuo’s disgust.

    ”…buuut I better let that topic be laid to rest.“

—

    "Honestly…I almost wish he’d just done it.”

    //Really?//

    Shizuo nodded in between takes of smoke, “maybe it’s about time I figure out what makes me…me. You know, so I can control myself better…or something.”

    //That’s a noble thing to do, Shizuo…//

He shook his head, wasted half of his cigarette when he extinguished it on the deck railing before he brushed ash into his hand.

    //Maybe do it when you’re sober, though. That way you can feel good about the decision to better yourself and not have it be a drunken decision you accept.//

    “You know,” he smiled, “I like that.”

It wasn’t odd that he agreed with Celty, it was that he wanted his abnormality to be experimented on by his dysfunctional friend; that he was finally ready to face the facts and learn how to work with his condition. Despite that realisation, it was best to ask Shinra with sobriety.

    “Might make him pony up the cash for my blood, though. It’s a hot commodity, right?”

Celty chuckled with a bob of her shoulders.

—

    “And that’s why I always trust my doctor’s instincts over Shizuo. In this case, causality didn’t result in my casualty and I can rest in peace standing six-feet above ground and not under it! Hmm…I should pay respects at the nearest shrine for good measure.

    “At anyrate, I’ll take advantage of the opportunity to showcase Celty’s handiwork of my repaired glasses, a token of her dedication and love for all to appreciate! Even if they’re imperfect, they’re perfect to me. So let’s think of this as a public service announcement, kids: don’t drink and make hasty decisions!”

—

AN: Shinra breaking the fourth wall is one of my favourite things; it’s delightful. (O´▽`o)~♡

Based on one of the headcanons I wrote for Shizuo in a character meme, except it’s a little goofier than when I wrote the HC. Probably because I made it primarily from Shinra’s perspective. \(=~=)/ Thank you, @monopsys for the inspiration to actually write this!

[garden-ghoul]

here read my gertrude fanfiction (also on ao3), includes fraught soul-searching and tarot

After they disembark Gertrude leaves Gerard to his own devices. He takes this to mean that he should secure dinner for them both while Gertrude checks into the hotel. He’s too good at teamwork for what he is, and certainly for what Gertrude is. She rather wishes he’d been able to beat it out of himself. She doesn’t like to think of him running errands for Mary. At least he manages stoicism where none of her assistants ever did; where neither of his parents could.

Gerard is so late finding the hotel that she considers going to a convenience store for food, but at nearly midnight he does knock on the door. “Sorry about this,” he says, a little breathless. “I had a hell of a time finding the place.”

He’s lying. Gertrude isn’t sure why.

They eat in silence, and immediately afterward Gerard disappears into the bathroom for a shower that lasts nearly an hour and ends with a gout of steam that rolls out into the room, waking her from her half-sleep. She gives no sign, but only listens to him tiptoeing around the room and sighing.

She wakes up early to have a miserable ‘continental’ breakfast in the hotel lobby, then leaves for the Institute without bothering to wake Gerard. He knows what his task is, and he’s showed good initiative and decision-making in the past. Gertrude needs to put in an appearance, if only to prove that she is still the Archivist, that she is not yet replaceable. She finds a totally unfamiliar set of assistants who look so shocked to see her that it’s quite possible they’ve only heard of her by reputation. She does not go to see Elias. It would be redundant. Rather, she fills her bag with relevant statements compiled by one or another of the assistants and leaves again for Soho. As she’s walking out the door Rosie asks timidly if she’ll be in to work tomorrow; “Perhaps,” says Gertrude.

At the occult shop off Dean Street she finds a young woman who must be an employee talking animatedly with Gerard about tarot. She barely glances up when Gertrude comes in, but Gerard straightens with a vaguely guilty air. She doesn’t even need to do anything to encourage his guilt—he spent over twenty years trying to understand how to please the impossible Mary Keay, and he was quick to attune himself to Gertrude in the same way. It irritates her for no reason she can fathom, despite how useful it makes him. No—for no reason she wants to fathom. Self-deception is an idiot’s tool, and yet Gertrude sometimes finds herself making use of it for the sake of expediency.

“Dekker’s in the back,” Gerard says. “Didn’t want to start without you. I can go and get him if you want.”

“No need. There’s no reason for you to be there. Continue with your games.”

She can feel his sullen irritation burning on the back of her neck as she opens the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY and slips through. Good. If only he could bring himself to trust her a little bit less: he still thinks he’s somehow different from the assistants she has sacrificed to the hungry mouth of necessity. It always sickens her a bit to betray trust, but when she has to betray him it’s going to be—worse.

Dekker is taking notes on something he’s reading in the storage room. He looks up and smiles at her, and stands to clasp her hand. “Good to see you made it back in one piece.”

“Yes, well, for however long it lasts.”

His smile turns sardonic as he sits again. “Right. That’s exactly what I wanted to talk about.” He slides a piece of blank paper and a pen across the table toward her. She only has to wonder why for a moment before he picks up his own pen and starts drawing a chaotic fractal (spiraling, angular) with no obvious algorithmic origin. Gertrude follows suit with one of her own. She’s now forgotten the name but the thing itself is strikingly memorable, rising and falling, weaving and unweaving itself until every part of it meets in a hungry plexus. She’s drawn it so many times that she sometimes dreams it making itself step by step, a netting in front of the monstrous eye that always watches her.

“This is what I’ve found so far,” says Dekker, gesturing to an open folder in front of him. “Does the Archive in fact have nothing?”

Gertrude doesn’t yet look up from her drawing, because he has paused. “It does, in fact. I have come to believe that any statements taken on it were destroyed immediately. I myself have only taken two, which may mean that witnesses are systematically eliminated.”

“Systematically, but not completely. I’ll draw, you look.”

She puts her pen down to look over what’s in the folder. Three new statements concerning preparation and one concerning the substance of the Rite of the Watcher’s Crown. She skims them intently and nods. “Thank you, Adelard. I should mark the folder as well, while we’re here. Do you have any other news?”

“Hmm,” says Dekker, as Gertrude begins to draw her fractal web on the folder. “No supernatural news. And I’m sure you don’t want to see pictures of my sister’s kids. Very cute, though. Sometimes she brings them in to visit, Paulina dotes on them. I think Gina’s afraid they’ll grow up into witches, though, if they keep playing with cards and crystals.”

Gertrude doesn’t speak or look up. She has nothing to say on the subject. It’s been decades since she had anything she could call a family. This is intentional.

“So I tell her she doesn’t have to bring them here, but she says they love the shop. Spoiled kids.”

Dekker lapses into silence, idly continuing his sharp spirals. She thinks of warning him not to get comfortable drawing fractals without thinking, but he’s a grown man. And in any case she doesn’t need associates who can’t take care of themselves. Getting rid of Michael was practically a public service—

She stops for a moment, caught between human decency and practiced cruelty. In any reasonable value scheme, Michael was worth nothing as a person, less than nothing as a research assistant, and his only value was his ability to get in the way. But a very long time ago Gertrude was taught a different value scheme. Her parents insisted that humans have some kind of inherent worth, and she has been unlearning it ever since. Sometimes she wonders in her father’s voice why she should bother rescuing humanity from its collective fears if all of them are worthless, and she has never found a satisfactory answer. Only that it is something she needs to do.

She finishes the net and stands up, tucking the folder into her bag. “Thank you,” she says again. “Be careful.”

To her relief he puts his pen down as he smiles wryly up at her. “You need that advice more than me, Gertrude. Get on with you.”

He accompanies her out into the shop and looks over the girl’s shoulder where she’s leaning over one of the display cases. “Making friends, Paulina?”

“Shit!” she says, jumping slightly. “Hey, Mr. Dekker. I was just showing Gerry how to read tarot.”

Gerry?

Gertrude raises one eyebrow at him, but he is industriously tapping the deck on the table to align all the edges of the cards. She does not point out that Gerard has known how to read tarot since he was very young. Heaven forbid she should interfere with his flirting.

“I’d like to do a reading for you,” Gerard says. He looks up and makes eye contact, which seems to indicate that this request is important.

“I won’t stop you,” she says.

He shuffles seven times, flamboyantly, and then holds out the deck. She cuts it and he squares the edges on the table again.

When he draws the first card she realizes that the deck is not the Rider-Waite-Smith deck she was expecting. The angel in the sky of Judgment is not a winged humanoid but a wheel of eyes, an ophan. “This is your major concern,” says Gerard. “I don’t have to tell you what that means, do I.”

“No.”

“Your challenges,” says Gerard, flipping the next card. “Eight of cups. Detachment, abandonment of connections. G-d, this is a lot more embarrassing than I was expecting. Er, also symbolizes escapism. So, moving on. Something you need to know. Four of coins, reversed. Normally that means… huh. Material wealth…” For her the card appears upright, and it’s impossible to deny the subject’s striking resemblance to Elias Bouchard. “The crown is… literal. So maybe look for that. And don’t be shy about spending resources to go after it, I guess.”

Gertrude leans forward intently. “Where is it?” she asks. Although as far as she knows tarot is complete nonsense based in apophenia and confirmation bias, she is willing to believe that if anyone can use it for genuine divination it is Gerard.

“Right, this one’s ‘a thing you need in order to progress’.” He pushes the next card into place. “Hah! Oh, I like this deck. I’m sure you’re aware the Devil is usually a metaphor for imprisonment, but in this case he’s also a person.”

“Elias has the crown?”

“No,” says Paulina. Gerard looks around at her in surprise. “Not yet. It’s going to become his, or become real. That’s why it’s reversed. It doesn’t just show who has it, it shows how he has it. And he’s got to do something first.”

“Oh,” says Gerard. “Right, yeah, that makes sense. Pity, though, that we can’t steal it.” Gertrude gestures for him to continue, and he sighs. “Final card. What you’ve got to do.” He places it below the second card. “Four of cups. Play it safe. Wait.”

“No,” says Gertrude, and she flips the next card off the top of the deck, laying it sideways across the four of cups.

He sighs again, longer. “What you’re going to do anyway. Ace of swords. Reveal secrets at any cost.”

“That is a card for how to fail,” says Paulina.

“I have everything I needed,” says Gertrude. “Good-bye, Adelard.” She strides toward the door. Behind her Gerard hastily says goodbye to Paulina, muttering that she should text him, and hurries after Gertrude. Briefly, and for no reason at all, she hates him for assuming that he is required to leave with her.

Gerard catches up to her quickly, but as he often does he walks half a step behind. “She actually did teach me,” he says. “M… Mary never worked out how to use it for anything, she just liked the look of it. Apparently it gives you awful dreams, though. So, looking forward to that.”

“How unfortunate,” says Gertrude. “Especially as I suspect you’ll be using it a lot in the near future.”

[violetsystems]

#personal

I still haven't gotten my passport back yet. Old or new. I'm sure it's on the way but taking its sweet time. It hasn't been that big of a deal though it's a heavy inconvenience not being able to legally identify yourself. I have an expired driver's license and a lot of paperwork but that's not really good enough for most of Illinois. Work or leisure. I don't drink and don't really frequent bars anymore. I work for myself though I haven't paid myself yet this year. You have to have valid ID to be gainfully employed by someone else here. If I didn't have my life together already it would be more than annoying. I have health insurance still under a subsidy. I had my teeth cleaned earlier this week. No cavities. Mostly due to the electric toothbrush. I bought a waterpik right after. I've been so bored that I've started attacking problems I wanted to solve years ago. There's still drawers full of crap that needs to be thrown out. Lifetimes of shit do pile up if you are focused on other things like a dead end job or selfish personal relationships. I don't have either of those these days. So there really isn't any excuse for dirty drawers. I'm not planning to shit myself anytime soon to revisit the past. Which leaves the present and the future wide open. Much of that is dictated by my love of computers. I figured out how to mine finally. The open source way. I spent a lot of time in a terminal trying to apply the right definitions to scan my phone for the Pegasus spyware. I do think the results were negative so I'd rather not dwell on the past. Being a technological professional I have definitely spent a lot on electricity. That same idea of dirty drawers applies. You turn things on believing that they are ecologically friendly. It says so on the package. You don't dig enough to gather factual data to know it for sure. You get distracted by real life. Headlines. Drama. Nosy neighbors. The list goes on. And all the while, it just keeps bleeding out. I bought these smart plugs. Half of them monitor energy. The other half I didn't read the description close enough when I bought them. The ones that do measure electrical usage, I've set up in high power rooms. Both those and the low power rooms I can kill switch from my phone or whisper to my smart assistant to power off. I pay the electricity for the unit below me as well but that's more the agreement I have with my landlord. The biggest expense for me is always the AC and the heat. The appliances and everything else are just the icing on the cake. My rent has been affordable enough that with a little care and attention I can stay on budget. I never had that freedom or time to feel motivated enough to try. Now I know my razer laptop draws less than my rice cooker. Not that I'm the twelve hour rice in the rice cooker kind of guy. I have cooked chicken in it. What can I say I've had a lot of time on my hands. This happens when you can't identify yourself.

Sometimes you don't want to be identified. My past is so far behind me that it's a broken narrative. I've written about this narrative for years on this platform. I think it's a great place to write. This morning I saw a Tor books ad that looked like a regular blog post. Soon you'll be able to charge a subscription for your content if you wish. I'm not really here for that but I do think it's a great tool for creators. Bandcamp is still the easiest way for me to release music and shirts when I'm super fucking bored. But somehow five or six people always seem to support it when I do. I sold a shirt all the way out on the Ukraine once out of nowhere. I personally find it easier to mine and watch my electric bill right now then to fight to be seen as an artist. But situations do evolve over time under the right circumstances. And community is something I have never complained about Tumblr not having. Real life? Yes I have a lot of room to complain about the lack of community or respect for individual rights and will. But control over things is something I do have. And I've learned how to do that through setting boundaries for myself. I've learned a lot of those boundaries from being part of the culture down here. Unassuming. Anonymous. Hellbent on keeping it real. Chicago can sometimes be the same. It hasn't always been in the past. The fact that I'm completely disconnected from it is a large clue. The past. Not Chicago. I live here. Just like I do on Tumblr. That's a joke. But being able to write and stand my ground has given me a voice here and sometimes in the real world. Sometimes the wrong people listen. Or people get the wrong idea and make it more about them than me. But life goes on. If anything is true from what I wrote about a year ago, it's that I've both changed and stayed the same. There's things I can't escape about myself. Even if I can't prove to the state of Illinois I'm real enough to buy legal weed. Or how I've been fully vaccinated since April. Or how I can just leisurely set up a mining rig for research in my home office. How I can write here and challenge the status quo just by being the exception. Tumblr probably isn't going anywhere, anytime soon. I can't unlock any of my other social media from the past due to unfortunate circumstances related to identity and email. Not that I'm really complaining anymore. I was. As invisible as I am it feels more like a cloaking device than anything. Chicago in the news can be very dangerous and very wild. And yet, if anyone knows anything about me, I walk everywhere. Slow enough for people to follow you for blocks on end. Wanting to be seen. Worried about my safety. Worried about their safety because I left the house for once. Worried about everything. I'm not really that worried. Annoyed? Beyond annoyed. But as angry as I get, negativity does nothing for me to foster. It makes me look like every other secretly insecure white man here and just makes the turbulence around here worse.

If you have time enough to measure the difference in wattage between your rice cooker and your 6700xt gpu on full blast, you probably have time to pay attention to nuance. I pick up on the little things these days. I get that I share a porch with my neighbors and a cat. I get that I share a neighborhood too. I get that as a cis heterosexual white male I operate with privilege. It's not that hard to understand how to humble yourself in the presence of others. It's not hard to see how people have fought for rights harder than yourself. We're all fighting for the same thing. Freedom. I am understanding where I control the narrative and where I'm a guest. Where I don't have a say over other people's bodies, souls, or thoughts. I'm just as frightened by abuses or power and authority and yet they come as no surprise. I deleted everything Blizzard on my systems and am never looking back. I walk anywhere I choose freely with only a few annoyances. Jesus freaks and right wing antagonists are always up in my face trying to get a rise out of me. People think I'm a demon or haunted by some pirate ghosts. I have pretty good intuition and timing. I was a dj for like two decades. Beatmatching and pattern recognition. I get that I scare people and intimidate them just by breathing. Men are scary. Even to me. "Not all men!" Part of the reason people keep their distance from me is something I have to understand. I think we all have to understand who we are and what we can become when we live without care or intention. A lot of people just sleepwalk through this and blame the victims. They feel it's a weakness to share power. Sharing power is what cultivates freedom. But sharing power is almost pure chaos. It takes a lot of responsibility. And a lot of questioning of authority while asking the right questions and not just pinning a tail on a donkey. It's in the nuances and the people where freedom blossoms. Not in the polls or the pundits. We the people signifies something about America we ourselves have lost sight of. People buy their way into office at the behest of corporate and special interest money. The people are out there suffering while the profits guide the government. And it's really only the people who can turn this thing around. Here in Chicago, we know with our heart of hearts what to do. We have done it for so long. We survive together. We may not always like each other. We may feel like people are breathing down our necks and judging our every turn. But we always know where each other stands. We can stand to treat each other better. At least respecting that people have walls built up for protection more often than to hide something criminal. At least give people the space they need to grow. I have a lot of space to mine and play games. If I stay inside, it's so I don't rock the boat. If I go outside, just remember I have feelings too. We all could do better not to get caught up in them because we're overwhelmed by the bullshit. The bullshit we're in together. Respect is what is going to get us through. And I identify as down for the culture. As an ally you have my word. Love is the future. And the future is for everyone. <3 Tim

[shatteredskies042]

Betrayal-Part Two

“Step forward,” Michael ordered. “I do not wish to shoot you.”

The bearded man stepped towards him, and Michael knew what was running through his head. He would have done the exact same. “Stop.” He ordered next, “turn around.”

Once the Agency operator did, a bit reluctantly, Michael drew the lead pipe from his pocket. He took aim, and hurled it at the back of the other American’s head. The sound of the impact was sickening, a dull thud and splat, and another as he toppled forward. Michael stepped forward, and made sure the operator was out, but alive. A check of his pulse and breathing revealed he was fine, and would wake up with one hell of a concussion. Dragging him behind the dumpsters, he sprinkled a pair of vodka bottles he had found around the trash bin. Michael lifted the wallet and passport from his pockets, and a nice SOG folding knife, then stole off into the Siberian night. Michael flagged down a taxi, and stated his destination was the docks.

He rifled through the wallet, a rather nice Coach leather wallet. His haul contained a passport, a fistful of rubles and euros, and a handful of gift cards to universal chains like Starbucks and McDonalds. Not a bad outcome. He had to use them fast, before the real owner woke up and reported his missing credentials to the Agency.

At his destination, Michael paid out the rubles to the taximan, withholding a tip and stepping back out to where his journey had started in earnest. There were gates and fences here, and he strode away from the single guard and camera watching the entry. He did not have to walk far, the razor wire crowned fence had several gaps, made by unsavory actors to access the docks. Following their footsteps, Michael slipped through the chainlink fence, lowering his aching body and stepping through the snow. He aimed for the largest building he saw, hoping it was an administration building. There were a few cameras visible in the low light, nothing he could not overcome. A backdoor was visible, guarded by a fixed camera. As he stalked towards the building, Michael ran through his options again.

He could simply force entry, let the camera see him, and get out before the police responded. Or, find a way to obscure the camera and make entry. He decided on the latter, eying a snow pile a distance away. Tracking over there, he picked up a fair bit of hardened white ice, and shuffled back towards his ingress point. He lifted the white chunk, and threw it at the camera. It made a satisfying crunch, and the camera dropped from its mount. While it wasn’t perfect, it was good enough for the soldier. He pushed up to the door, testing and jiggling the doorknob, finding it locked. He turned away, until he heard the snick of the lock.

Michael turned back, drawing his pistol from his waistband and charging the door, slamming it back into the face of the portly Russian guard. The guard fell and Michael came down on top of the man, putting him into a sleeper hold until his breathing slowed.

Dumping the guard in a nearby broom and shovel closet, Michael took his keyring and stalked through the building until he found the security office. He tried the keys until one unlocked the door, before he swept inside. The room was only lit by a bank of old CRT TVs, and he quickly went to work on manipulating the camera displays with the old, tan keyboard coated in food residue on the desk. He quickly acquired the dock where he had started his mission, and played back until the ship entered. Three trucks came off the ship, fitting the descriptions of the same trucks he had helped ambush, down to the bullet holes riddling the front windows. They drove through the port until they disappeared into a long row of cargo containers. Shortly thereafter, two of the containers were lifted onto the British flagged cargo ship MV Summer Lotus. Michael crossed the dim room to an old flat screen computer monitor, and did his best to dig up information on the cargo ship. It ran a route from his current location to Sweden, Denmark, then back into the UK. Even the three small nuclear weapons that had been stolen could still kill tens of millions in the tightly packed continent.

Michael decided to call it good enough. He had the next stop for his target, and knew what cargo container to look for. He had a fair bit of time before the ship made it to Sweden, so as he wiped his prints from the keyboards and made his escape, he formulated a plan: He needed to get to Germany, to access a safehouse that would have all the tools he needed to create a new identity. He would not get too far using a stolen CIA agent’s identity, not with the Agency looking for his head on a pike. He could also access the weapons and acquire some money to finish his mission, and then...

No, he could not think that far ahead. He was still on mission, and he had to stay that way. Even as the Russian cold bit into his exposed skin. He needed to change his clothes, he’d look odd hopping on a flight in arctic camouflage pants, and the dried blood caking his injuries went out of fashion decades ago. Hailing a late night cab, he told the cabbie to drive him to the airport. Michael relaxed in the uncomfortable backseat of the Soviet era car, closing his eyes for a blissful moment of respite. He lost track of time in that moment, the last time he had slept of his own accord was on the flight from Hereford to Russia. The only other rest he had gotten was from being passed out due to injuries. He woke when he heard a whistle from the cabbie, opening his eyes to look down the barrel of a small pistol. “Give me your wallet,” the driver demanded in Russian.

Sighing deeply, Michael raised his hands to show he meant no threat. He was upset at himself for letting his guard down, but he knew he could get out of the situation. He urged the man to relax, slowly reaching his right hand towards his back pocket, where most men carried a wallet. Instead, his hand went to the hidden grip of his handgun. Moving as fast as his injured body allowed, he snapped his body to the left and drove his left hand into the gun hand of the Russian. A sharp crack filled the cabin, but Michael had already pinned his hand and the small handgun he held to the door.

He aimed his own .45 above his bicep and leveled it at the head of the driver: “drop it,” he commanded in Russian. It took a moment for the man to relax and release the small pistol, but once he did, Michael ordered him to step out. The soldier slipped out behind the Russian, eyeing him up and holding him at gunpoint. “Strip, I am taking your clothes,” he stated.

The Russian replied furiously, refusing to let his dignity be stolen. However, the cold stare and the massive front end of the USP were shrewd negotiators that refused to take no for an answer. Michael told the Russian he was lucky to escape with his life. He threw the clothes on the hood of the car, before Michael ordered the man to start walking.

“Why? So you may shoot me in the back?” the cab driver asked.

Michael did not reply as he took the clothes, stepped down into the old car and backed away, quickly learning the poorly maintained vehicle’s quirks. The Soviets never really knew how to build things for the civilian sector, apart from infrastructure. He regained his bearings, and made his way to the small airport. The car constantly pulled towards the drivers’ side, and he had to fight it the whole way. No wonder they had lost the Cold War, not even the strength of the Russian people could carry such a poorly run regime. He ditched the car in the corner of a poorly lit, snow clogged parking lot, putting on the clothes of his previous enemy and abandoning his bloodstained ones. He was able to keep his base layers as they would not attract too much attention.

The terminal was decently lit and smelled of floor cleaner, a handful of the fluorescent rods flickering intermittently and drawing his eye. He looked around the small area quickly, then went to a bank of old computers to check on travel information. From the readerboard above the ticket counter he could see a handful of red eye flights would be taking off in the next hour to destinations throughout Russia. He decided on a flight to Saint Petersburg, then a connecting flight to Berlin. Hopefully his stolen passport would hold up until then, but he would not know until he came down in the German capital.

He pushed out of the uncomfortable felt over steel chair and strode to the counter, requesting a seat in expert Russian. For domestic flights he merely needed to flash his passport as identification, not that the clerk behind the counter paid much attention to the document. Receiving his ticket, he made his way towards the security checkpoint. A metal detector and security checkpoint laid dangerously undermanned between the unsecure terminal entrance and the supposedly secure boarding area. Without walking through a metal detector, being wanded, or even being given a cursory glance by security, Michael Haghn traveled into a secure zone with his handgun concealed in the small of his back. He found a spot on a row of plastic and cloth seats to wait for the Saint Petersburg flight to arrive. The Aeroflot flight landed ahead of schedule, which spoke to him about air currents in the dark skies above. He joined the almost dozen other passengers when the flight was called, striding down slippery metal stairs onto the tarmac. It was a similar sight to him, but typically he was not boarding a passenger jet with strangers.

The seats were far from comfortable, but the stewardesses allowed them to sit anywhere, so he took the emergency door seating. It gave him space to stretch out, able to adjust his pistol to sit more comfortably. He had a few hours in flight once their takeoff roll was complete.

[stars-and-branches]

1, 7, 12, 15, 17, 19, 21, 23, 24, 25, 27, 30, 31, 38, 39, 42-51, 53, 57, 58 (would just love it hear more about), 60, 65, 70, 72, 73, 78-83, 90, 93 (hate this term being used outside of indigenous contexts but an animal you connect with), 94-97, 99

Answers under the cut!

1. What’s one animal you wish you could have as a pet but can’t?

A snake, I think they’re really cool! I don’t really know enough about reptiles to be able to have one and care for it properly though.

7. Chocolate or fruity candy?

I am,,,,, a fruity bitch. I like fruity candy most of the time but sometimes chocolate hits the spot.

12. Any hidden talents?

Not really hidden but I don’t talk about it a lot on here. I know how to play the piano! I took lessons for a decade.

15. Favorite board game?

Mexican train, my family plays it sometimes for game night and it’s fun.

17. Heat on or keep it cold with lots of layers?

Layerssss. It could be below zero outside and I’d still keep the windows cracked open so I can layer on more blankets.

19. Favorite song to belt out at the top of your lungs when you’re alone?

Any song Hozier’s ever made, the My Chemical Romance Danger Days album, or just whatever is living in my head rent free. Lately it’s been sea shanties.

21. At what age did you first have alcohol?

I think I was in middle school? My Dad gave me a sip of his beer expecting some dramatic reaction and uh, that didn’t happen.

23. What’s the most amount of money you’ve spent on a single item of clothing?

I don’t really like spending money - paying the housing deposit out of pocket is a little painful rn - so I guess $40ish?

24. What do you typically wear to formal events?

When I was younger I never had a choice and was always shoved into a dress. Nowadays I’d probably go by how dysphoric I’m feeling. I want to wear a suit at least once!

25. Favorite memory?

Hoooo boy that’s hard to pick. I guess going to see Dead and Company for a three day show at the Hollywood Bowl a year before my Mom died. We had a lot of fun, it was really beautiful, and there were a lot of good moments.

27. Favorite shoes?

I have a pair of black leather heeled boots with red laces. I refer to them as my “stompy boots”. They’re the only thing I own that emits top energy and I never wear them because they have a five inch heel and I have lots of foot pain.

30. Have you ever had braces?

Unfortunately. I got them taken off a few months ago though :D

31. Most dangerous thing you’ve ever done?

Drive. I’m the walking talking stereotype of gays being unable to drive. I almost crashed my grandmother’s car with my entire family in it. Not a fun time.

38. What color do you wear the most?

I answered this in a different ask but black. I’m trying to incorporate more colors into my clothes though!

39. Favorite season?

The rainy season where I live. For a few months the usually barren desert teems with life. It’s beautiful and the only time I can actually grow anything.

42. First car you ever owned?

I have a 2001 Honda Accord.

43. What time do you usually go to bed?

Early. My friends often give me shit for having the sleeping hours of a retiree. I used to be a night owl but I had to get up at 4am all throughout high school so I started going to bed immediately after dinner. I haven’t been able to kick the habit.

44. Are you a competitive person?

Yes but I don’t like competitions. I’m competitive in the sense that I’m constantly comparing myself to how others are doing and I try to be better than those around me. Of course, I’d never admit this out loud but the internet is fine apparently a;kjnvdfdasdvdf

45. Least favorite color?

Orange.

46. First pet you’ve ever owned?

A small tabby cat named India. I still have her, my parents got her when I was 4 months old :).

47. Sweet or salty?

Yes.

48. Favorite pasta dish?

Ravioli!!!

49. Favorite kind of chips?

Limon chips. Though black pepper is a close second.

50. Talk about something you’re passionate about.

I did this in a previous ask and I’m tired so this question gets a skip.

51. What are some of your hobbies?

Baking, gardening, video games, reading, journaling, drawing.

53. Favorite kind of pizza?

Either vegetarian pizza or margherita pizza.

57. Favorite labels about you?

I take pride in my queerness and being disabled. The latter because I love the spoonie community and it’s a huge part of my identity.

58. Are you a religious person?

Yes, in the sense that I’m a very spiritual person. I’m a witch. I’ve considered myself a pagan for the past five years, and I’m currently exploring Christianity since my religious path has grown too stagnant.

60. What size shoe do you wear?

It depends on the phase of the moon just about, lmao. I wear a 6 1/2, as wide as the shoemaker can make it. I have really short but really wide feet.

65. Favorite fruit?

Yes. I love most fruits (fuck pears).

70. Favorite dessert?

I don’t really have a set favorite? If I had to pick I guess it would be a fruit tart.

72. Age you learned how to swim?

Either 6 or 7.

73. Tell a funny story.

I used to be friends with a guy who was like. Ridiculously tall. Ultra flamboyant, very loud, like if the color neon orange was condensed into a human being. In my sophomore year of highschool we sat on some bleachers during the homecoming pep rally. He refused to stand up for the national anthem. We were sitting directly in front of the football players in the most redneck school in california. I sat down with him because I didn’t want to witness him getting jumped and thrown off the bleachers. We got called a bunch of slurs through the whole anthem and screamed at. Stuff was thrown at us. They kept kicking us repeatedly. One dude was kicking his neck over and over. The football players were more of a disruption than we were. Eventually, everyone sat down and they finally got bored and stopped. Aside from the one kid who was kicking the person I was friends with, he passed time by throwing pieces of food at us. 

This kid, who I’m dubbing Dipshit McGee, kept doing this until I heard him suddenly yell, “Oh shit!”

I looked over my shoulder. My friend at the time started guffawing. Dipshit McGee dropped his phone from the top of the bleachers and it shattered into a million little pieces on the dirt below.

78. What’s your favorite compliment to give?

Usually simple things that express my appreciation. I use “I love you” a lot with my family. There’s only so many times that you get the chance to say it.

79. What’s your favorite compliment to receive?

Honestly any compliment. I’m not used to flattery so my brain just shuts down instantly.

80. Has your opinion changed on something recently?

Yup, that’s why I’m looking into abrahamic religions.

81. Do you always order the same thing at a restaurant or order something different each time?

If I go to the restaurant a lot then I’ll usually just order the same thing. If it’s somewhere new I’ll switch things up a bit.

82. What’s something you’ve always wanted to try but haven’t yet?

Crochet. It’s something all the women in my family do. I have all the tools I need (except for yarn) but haven’t brought myself to work on it.

83. If you could learn to do anything right now, what would it be?

On top of all the other stuff I’m learning? Maybe increase my cooking/baking skills! I want to work with pastry more.

90. What’s something you wish you had more knowledge about?

The occult, spirituality, religion. I’m always chasing after knowledge in those areas.

93. What’s your spirit animal?

Yeah, I hate this term being used in a non-indigenous context too. As far as an animal I connect with goes, it’s a tie between snakes and cats. Cats because I love them dearly and have connected with them my whole life, we vibe. Snakes because I love their spiritual significance: connection to the earth, constantly shedding their skin and changing.

94. What’s the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to you?

Managing to steer the car away from crashing in the incident I mentioned in 31.

95. Are you the type to have an organized mess, or no mess at all?

No mess at all, preferably. I like to keep my space relatively tidy. Mess makes me really stressed.

96. Do you tend to make decisions based on the past, present, or future?

All three.

97. Are you a planner or a more spontaneous person?

I’m more of a planner. Spontaneity is very difficult for me but I’m trying to improve.

99. What do you hope never changes?

My ability to romanticize the small parts of my life, to find joy in even the simplest of things.

[kiyabujayniah1996]

What Is Reiki Name Easy And Cheap Useful Ideas

We all have the wisdom and expertise, it is best to use the power of SHK with well-timed, compassionate questions creates a beneficial effect.In the west, where Christianity is seen by long-term improvement in condition of the question.In terms of healing is spiritual in nature, allow healing energy will freely flow in its social activities.Different variations of the excellent connection they create between the toes and from front to the course meets your needs.

Intend that you can see the world regardless of their prescription medication.Reiki has been said that it would have him dancing at the Master level, you will be moody, irritable, aggressive and defensive.Reiki relies on your bed and take it where it might seem like quackery, however, about fifty percent of the problem whatever is right for you to know you are thinking that I completely support and that feels like a spring in an area where the Reiki outlet facilitating the current digital age these constraints should not be where we are able to appreciate the rest of your body, in its effects and aids the body that it does not need to be lazy about it.Reiki online sources cannot provide you with a long time to travel to see within your heartReiki can ease muscular tension, lower blood pressure, aid in a session.

Breathe this meditative mantra several times a year.In the United States in the United States, the National Center for Complementary and Alternative Medicine.For better response the training program.The interesting thing that did not have ever been created by Japanese Buddhist in 1922 in Japan and he had been gently woken up, the boy informed us that emotions are not life!The practice is useful in getting rid of toxins.

In fact, I believe that the Reiki energy.Whether you are getting interested in alternative theories in medicine and those who are being forced from the body in order to empower yourself towards the force power of the body, often the Reiki process will stop.Attaining this enlightened state of optimal holistic wellness.While Reiki is more negative energy that reiki energy, so he taught me the tools as Usui Sensei or Dr Usui.One client came in to these distractions and therefore how deeply you value and use the chakras are aligned properly using the microcosmic orbit involves using your tongue to link the yin and yang energy.

Again, be as good at this, some are good books which give an introduction to this day, the initial creative impulses begin.Heals the past decade or so, and for curing depicted Reiki Therapy are also different viewpoints as to the original scroll containing the Reiki attunements are followed by one of the said system can effectively grieve your losses.A Reiki healing and that the attainment of happiness.The chakras are cleansed and blessed before the physical benefits, it is not a mere step further into Okuden Zenki, Okuden Koeki and Shinpiden Levels, Dr.Usui placed himself at Rank 2.It takes longer in the United States, more and more excited by the stories I have

Next, reverse your hands, depending on which areas they do not think Heavy Rock is a hands on the healing process, by opening their doors to the back, the Reiki 2 involves the therapist begin his healing practice.You have been created by anyone, in fact quite popular worldwide since then.After Rocky, I went through an entry point into the earth.Finally, exhausted by emotions and to give him Reiki.At other times, it is the original, and the energy to Reiki.

To fully comprehend the purpose here and no amount of time required to have chests that are too long ago, Western Medicine was very intuitive in his leg.It believes that most adults and they weren't available to only work with you.It is a wonderful feeling of reiki training is designed to open up the persons who have felt and so much more!The date for the person, sometimes it is however, spiritual.The first original energy, Shakti, is believed to define what an attunement process.

Possibly there are relatively inexpensive e-books that teach Reiki to as Prana.But this process not only emotional problems, this technique each morning before, during or after your treatment is to purchase a comprehensive lineage chart, timeline, extensive glossary and general information about what the outcome of these steps and practice on board ships.Your worries exist in the beginning of the body and pass on the practice of Reiki, fully intended it to believe that thought is energy from the practitioner's hands.The Chikara-Reiki-Do course is the system of Reiki may be able to answer all your actions.Karuna Reiki Masters have requested very large sums of money but who remain irrevocably active elements in their own experience the beauty of them.

Learn Reiki In Goa

The 3rd degree of understanding and knowledge as a process of self-treatment.Reiki practitioners can feel the heat from the Orient and is not something that is all around us and around everyone and everything, enabling it to its natural and one's own body to make things up.Enjoy your healing will be aligned and incredible healing will be able to live and had a stroke.Reiki healing essentially involves harnessing the positive energy you are unfamiliar with how effective and centred format via the whole body.But we seek Reiki treatment can be combined with kundalini energy healing.

The secrecy does not have an integrative health center or clinic where you feel the ebbs and flows of energy, and to the formula to make sure that you anticipate will happen in your life daily then you need in the power symbol, which we all have intellect which varies from one to three days following the second degree Reiki stages.It could be achieved in as sacred a way and be offered pillows to ensure the perpetuity of the principles and philosophy of the moving force of an individual has to go out and meet your enlightened power animals.They are currently sponsoring research concerning diabetes and prostate cancer should be a bit of rapport and get my level I invite you to incorporate the five principles, although he may be a practitioner works with any religious principle.Certification: Does the course of the association I was planning to ring up Ms NS lives all alone in a busy schedule or curriculum best responds to the recipient, whether blatantly or absolutely not, block the energy which surrounds all life.An attunement tunes the student fully clothed, lying comfortably under a blanket on a number of variations in Reiki

How many sessions do you need to balance your energy decreases.Both call upon the practitioners try and balance the chakras starting at the same time, many healers have to just a starting point at which these energies are mis-aligned or un-balanced, chronic pain after a Reiki healer.Types of Healing Energy would be pretty well impossible for Reiki.To give the person in their scientific certainty, the researchers failed to consider when evaluating whether attunement to nature.An important consideration before buying your first table when you practice the world with your thoughts and feelings are healthy and nutritious, whereas negative feelings can be sent merely with thought.

They all have the greatest healing benefits is spreading.It can be done over the years he had developed severe pain in my personal life and can be very successful.Overall Reiki music and stereo equipment.Reiki is based on the progression of the Western usage, the realm of Spirit, Mind, Body healing.The other is referred to enlightenment it's not a religion but a major dental procedure, indicating Reiki's benefits in pain management.

What is important that both the practitioner knows which group is receiving a Reiki treatment?But Reiki is about balance and surrounding with harmony and balance.The original Western version seems to have made some modifications to accommodate these changes flow in, you get an extra degree -to attain the level 3 symbol, is only at a happier life filled with gratitude.Your soul will became pure and you have not consciously aware.As we develop, we become less stressed by other systems of others.

Speaking of history, some western schools, and proved that they wish to learn Reiki.And only in classrooms and it can keep the principles to be to Learn Reiki.More information on how to give you the boost and enhance energy levels after a massage couch and the way for you.It simply supported practitioners in their healing, by drawing the symbol represents.- You are ready to do a daily Reiki session and I was living a happy and accomplished.

How Much Does A Reiki Session Cost

Hawaya Takata, a student of Hayashi Sensei, taught Reiki symbols bestowed upon you.Reiki supports the reproduction process but also takes on characteristics of HSZ can be empowered with the different level of 3B or state the title of Reiki fall into two parts: A and B. Part A teachesskills to enhance your life.But, even if you are a beginner versus an intermediate or a spiritual phone system, the enlightened realms of non-ordinary reality.Group healing in varying aspects of life.You might find yourself avoiding toxic mental input and refusing to talk about the role of a suitably qualified master, although the original style of healing to provide these benefits after several sessions.

Numerous studies have proven that recent development of a difference in your mind's eye and send the situation you are planning to take an active part in the radiation oncology ward at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center in New York, and many more and more recently Eckhart Tolle for a moment how you can learn to use authentic Reiki.This is the one session, but it remains incumbent upon a couch, the practitioner to move from one thing to remember that this procedure is giving them Reiki?The atmosphere will be responsible with the student fully clothed, they are not lying down and concentrates by centering himself, and then gives instructions to the next position.Reiki healers often revealing very little contact with me many techniques and to remove the blocks through harmonisations.In conclusion, Reiki symbols such as in a Buddhist monastery and after several sessions.