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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years ago

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Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Prove Me Wrong

Summary: She can trust you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Warning: 18+ Mental Health, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Smut

Chapter 4

******

It’s a bit of an adjustment to now being seeing Natasha.

Yes, she has followed through with coming back. Though at first it was spotty. Some days she came and others she didn’t. But now she’s much more consistent with it.

Admittedly you’re grateful that she sticks to her appointments on Friday’s. She’s proving to be equally as cooperative as she is difficult and you just aren’t sure you could handle that along with Steve, Bucky, and Wanda on the same day.

Still you’re not sure how to get her to truly open up. It’s clear she’s holding back and at this point you aren’t sure if it’s from you or from herself.

Either way, you decide that a change of scenery could be of some good, how good you aren’t sure but it’s worth a shot. So when Friday rolls around you wake up early to shower and fix yourself and Natasha to-go cups of tea and wait outside your office for her.

The second she sees you outside the door her eyebrow raises.

“Are we not meeting today?” She asks the second she’s in front of you.

You smile brightly at the woman, taking in the fact that her hair is damp. You recall her telling you that she goes to the gym before anyone even wakes up.

“We are, just not in my office.” You extend her cup towards her and she eyes it before accepting.

Like always she hums cutely as she takes the first sip, her tongue running over her full pink lips. Wait why are you watching her lips? You shake your head to refocus.

She tilts her head to the side a little,“ and where are we meeting?”

“The park.”

Nodding for her to follow, you make your way down the hall. Her soft footsteps confirm that she is following you and you suppress a smile at that. Does this mean she trusts you a little, maybe not but you hope.

When you get in the garage you walk right up to the BMW Tony insisted he buy for you, after you turned down the Audi, thinking you’re going to drive. Only for Natasha to scoff.

“If we’re going anywhere I’m driving.”

You turn to the sound of her sultry voice, finding her standing beside a space grey corvette, and quickly disappearing inside it. Knowing not to dispute this with her, you go and get in as well.

You almost instinctively run your fingers over the black leather interior, appreciating how it feels on your fingers. Only to look up and see the proud smirk on Natasha’s face.

It’s not far fetched for you to figure out this is her baby.

“Central?” She asks, reversing out of the garage and taking off, the engine roaring loudly.

Shrugging you say,“ unless you have somewhere else you’d feel comfortable going.”

That perfectly arched eyebrow quirks in a way that you’ve grown overly familiar with.

For the next couple of minutes you ride in silence, Natasha focused on driving while you focus on the things you’re driving by.

Despite having been in New York for years there’s some much you haven’t seen or even become familiar with. It still fascinates you seeing the way everyone moves around in seemingly the same pace and in the same rhythm. As chaotic as it appears to be you’d be lying if you ignored the uniformity of the city.

Eventually Natasha is pulling to a stop in an parking spot. You follow after she’s gotten out.

The woman moves with purpose and familiarity. She steps on to the curb and walks down the concrete path, straight through the small surrounding park. The sign just outside the place read Battery Park.

It’s not until she’s on the wide pathway that she stops, leaning on the railing that overlooks the upper bay.

You lean beside her, leaving enough room for both your personal spaces, and wait a moment before speaking. Instead taking in the way her eyes look fondly toward the horizon.

Funnily enough you aren’t the first person to speak.

Natasha flicks her red hair over her shoulder and glances at you from the corner of her eye.“ It all started out there.” She returns her gaze to the water.“ Fury brought the team together on the helicarrier.”

No, you don’t know much about the helicarrier, aside from what the news said of it way back when Bucky was the Winter Solider. But you understand, at least now, that the Air/Water craft must’ve been situated out on the water in the bay.

“I didn’t know back then what it all would mean.” Her voice is softer than you’re use to and you don’t want to disturb her openness so you don’t pull out your notebook.“ It was just a group of a few of the world’s threats joined together to fix a temporary problem.”

You watch her watch the water.

“Somehow that one disaster gave me the people I call family. After years of thinking I’d never know what that concept truly meant, I’d gotten it in the form of the Avengers. Now they know me better than people I’ve known my whole life. And I trust them.”

Making a mental note to ask about those people at a much later date, you focus on what she’s revealing to you now.“ Does it still scare you? Having people know who you really are after all those years of hiding yourself?”

For the first time since arriving she looks over at you,“ it terrifies me. And I tried to prevent it. Stop it even but they never let me. They gave me reasons to trust them and in turn they trusted me.”

“Which was harder.” You noticed the way she frowned when she said it.“ It’s harder to be trusted than it is to trust.”

“If they trust me they count on me. I couldn’t mess up, couldn’t disappoint. Suddenly people needed me in the way that I needed them and I wasn’t ready for that. I’m still not.”

You smile a little,“ yes you are. I see you doing it every day. Being there for them even when they don’t know you are or think they need you to be. And I understand that having people depend on you is pressuring but you do it in an unexplainable way Miss Romanoff.”

Turning to face the woman fully you tell her,“ you need to need yourself. You need to trust yourself. Be even more dependent of yourself than they are of you and trust yourself to follow through with it.”

Somehow you’d managed to surface some of her deepest insecurities.

“Natasha, I could be wrong, but I don’t think I am.” You take a deep breath.“ In the past you were held to near perfect expectations, told that you weren’t good enough unless you exceeded them.” Her lack of response is answer enough so you continue,“ nobody is perfect. Not even you Miss Badass Super Spy. And you don’t need to be. One I imagine you’d be even more annoying if you were-”

Holy shit.

She laughs.

Natasha Romanoff actually laughs at your joke. And not a little chuckle, an actual laugh. One that makes a smile stick to her lips afterwards. One that makes you want to hear it again.

Once she’s stopped you finish, fighting a smile,“ and two, you have people who make up for what you don’t have. You all are a team for a reason. Where you may not be able to do something, Steve can or Wanda or even Sam. And they know that. They know you aren’t perfect but you are more than good enough to them as long as you trust in yourself to do what you are able to.”

It’s quiet after that.

Natasha looks at you for a moment longer, eyes flickering over every part of your face. Until she looks away, eyes catching a boat sailing in. You follow her gaze.

“Also, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you confiding in them. I know you have your reputation to protect but it’s okay to tell them how you’re feeling every once in a while. You said yourself you trust them, more than me, so at least tell them.”

“I don’t-” Natasha rolls her eyes.“ I don’t not trust you.”

Having talked enough today she turns to walk away, not missing your comment of “I can work with that” as she does.

Luckily for Natasha she is an excellent multitasker. It allows her to think about everything you’d said as she safely drives you both back to the compound.

Truthfully speaking, and if you ever found out she’d deny it, you scare her.

Your ability to dissect and understand everything she tells you is frightening. At first she simply thought it was you using your powers but you disproved that during your second meeting.

She’d off handedly accused you of cheating with your powers and you told her she would be able to tell if you were using your powers. For a few briefs seconds she allowed you to use your powers on her, simply reading her emotions, and you were right.

Your powers felt like a third party in her mind. Not intrusive, since she’d let you in, but it felt unfamiliar. There was no way to describe how it really felt but it was different.

Which just means you can read her well, and that you actually do understand what she’s telling you. Before she assumed no one ever would, understand her. Having made exceptions with Clint and Steve since they experienced similar things.

She knows that’s not the case with you and it’s pretty, well, scary.

She’d never tell you, but she was, and still partly is, reluctant to see you because you are undeniably approachable. Yes you’re quiet and sometimes overly observant, but maybe that’s why she’d found herself wanting to know so much about you when she first met you. And not being reserved to talking freely with you.

Only to panic when she found herself wondering where you were and what you were doing over your first couple of days there. She took it upon herself to cut off any thoughts you had towards speaking with her.

That didn’t hold, obviously.

After she’s parked in the garage and you both get out, you turn to her.

“I still have some free time if you wanted to keep talking.” You offer.

But she shakes her head,“ I have somewhere to be.”

You smile, that one she’s becoming use to, and say,“ alright. See you around Miss Romanoff.”

As she watches you disappear into the building, she inaudibly groans and lays her head against her car.

One thought plays in her mind: What the hell have I gotten myself into?

******

taglist: @username23345 @muffliat-o @aaron-despair @natasha-danvers @nat-km-mh

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #prove me wrong #reader insert

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bunnylouisegrimes · 4 years ago

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Sick Day (NOS4A2 Drabble)

A/N: Holy shit! I actually wrote something?! Well, unfortunately, this is probably gonna be my only fic for a while since I’m gonna be so busy. But I hope you all enjoy some Charlie fluff! It helped to let my creative muse out amongst my stress! (Also, I own a Totoro like the toy pictured above) ;)

Sick Day

NOS4A2 Drabble

By: Bunny Louise Grimes

That Friday, the stretches of farmland rolled along beside the Wraith as we went for a leisurely drive. The clouds were grey, the spring air was cool, and dew covered the windows. We took a rest outside of a beautiful and abandoned hospital to eat our fries and crack each other up. Nearby, a park sat where Charlie pushed me on the swings. But by the time we decided to head back home and order a pizza, I noticed I was feeling a bit tired. While ordering the pizza, I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. The only interesting (and scary) thing on was a news segment discussing how a shooter at a restaurant two towns over had threatened to kill people (something like an altercation with his girlfriend who was a waitress perhaps?), and he was still at large.

“Well, that explains the helicopters we’ve been seeing and hearing,” I said.

“Indeed,” Charlie nodded. “We’ll have to be careful tonight and make sure everything is locked up so that he doesn’t try to hide here, especially since this house is the perfect place to hide. Out in the middle of nowhere, miles of forest to run, the mountains... good thing my Wraith has a mind of her own, because if he thinks about hiding there, he’ll be ran over.”

After I ordered the pizzas from my laptop, we went out for another small drive in the grey skies to retrieve them. By then, my tiredness had gotten worse, and I noticed my body had a dull ache. I wrapped myself up in my yellow sweater tighter. Besides that, I was wearing green floral leggings, green socks, and black Mary Janes. It was already a cool afternoon, but it wasn’t this freezing, so why was I so cold? I thanked the fact my hair was done in a pair of long fluffy puppytails held together by my green ribbons so that I had an extra layer of warmth.

“I’m concerned I might be coming down with something,” I told Charlie. “I’m starting to feel real tired, cold, and achy.”

“Well, we’ll see how you feel,” he said. “If you start to feel really sick, we’ll have our answer and we’ll give you medicine.”

After coming home and eating our pizza, my tiredness, alongside my full stomach, overtook me, and I fell asleep. When I woke up from a bizarre dream, I realized how cold, achy, and tired I was. Charlie felt my head and observed that I was feeling very hot. He took into consideration how cold his body temperature was and placed the tympanic thermometer from the bathroom into my ear. I was 100 degrees Fahrenheit on the dot, a definite fever.

He presented me with medicine and he carried me upstairs, where I fell asleep once more. When I woke up from even more odd dreams, my fever had increased to almost 103 degrees. I had developed a headache and chest discomfort. I went to the bathroom due to an odd sensation in my stomach, and I realized what it was once I was done.

“Charlie,” I called weakly to the hallway. “I have diarrhea too!”

“Well, all of this is most unfortunate,” Charlie sighed. “We should call the doctor and he can figure out what’s wrong.”

He got on the landline and contacted the local doctor. I ended up with an appointment that day at three. Charlie helped me change into the clothes I wore yesterday, and he helped me rebraid my hair. When we arrived 30 minutes later, there was only a few other people in the doctor’s office. I was the second person to be called. After a quick checkup and a quick talk with the nurse about my symptoms, the doctor walked in five minutes later and concluded I had the flu.

“Flu season’s in fall and winter,” he said. “It peaks between December and February, but it can run even as late as now. It happens sometimes, someone has it and you just catch it. It’s pesky influenza, you can get it at anytime.” He turned to Charlie. “That elderberry medicine was good thinking. Keep giving her that so it will help her immune system. I also recommend Vitamin C, so orange juice is a good drink idea. Here’s an antiviral prescription.” He gave the paper to Charlie. “I’ll call the pharmacy, you’ll be able to pick it up in a few hours.” He turned back to me. “In the meantime, you just take lots of rest and stay hydrated, especially with your diarrhea. Since your stomach might be upset, you should eat lighter things like crackers.” He chuckled and smiled, saying, “I assume you know all this, however, given you are in the medical field yourself.”

I nodded, laughing as best I could. “I don’t work as a nurse now since moving here, but at anytime, if I do need to work, I think this would be a good place.”

He beamed. “Absolutely! I’m glad you think so! You seem like the person we’d like on board. But you focus on your health first.”

After leaving, Charlie took me home, where I switched into my pajamas and cuddled up with some of my ponies (Razzaroo, Minty, Wysteria, Sweetberry, Cotton Candy, Sunny Daze, Sparkleworks, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, and Kimono), Kuchi Kopi (who glowed a comforting green), and my stuffed Totoro on the couch.

“I’ll make you some soup,” Charlie said. “You want some Progresso rice soup with Taco Bell sauce?”

“Just like when I was a kid,” I smiled. “Yes. Can you put in A Charming Birthday so I can watch something small for a little bit?”

He put in the pony VHS tape and went into the kitchen. The soup was done and I had adjusted myself on the couch. He also presented me with orange juice in a glass and ice. I ate my soup and drank my OJ carefully while Charlie turned on the news again once the twenty minute short was over. The culprit from yesterday had been caught, so there was no need to worry about him on the loose anymore. Other than that, the news became annoying, so I asked Charlie if we could watch a movie.

“Could we watch My Neighbor Totoro?” I asked.

“What is that?” He looked puzzled.

“It’s one of the movies I brought. It’s from the 80’s, animated, and from Japan.”

He looked at the clock. “Let me get your medicine. I’ll have to get it in about fifteen minutes, and you know it takes ten minutes to get to town. Finish your soup while I’m gone and I’ll make you some hot chocolate upon my return.”

I nodded, changed the channel to Two Broke Girls, and we exchanged a kiss before he left once more. I had finished my soup almost ten minutes later and my stomach felt slightly upset (not the fault of the food, it had to have just been my stomach being in the state it was in). I weakly stumbled upstairs, chills hitting my aching body without my blanket, and did my business in some discomfort. I did my best to clean myself up with painfilled muscles. I felt clean and wrapped up what I needed to do. The lilac smell of the soap and the warm water I was using to clean my hands up smelled and felt refreshingly pleasant on my ill body.

I snuggled with my toys when I returned downstairs and chuckled at Caroline and Max’s antics to get more money until Charlie returned home. I took my medicine (including the elderberry medicine he gave me yesterday) and he made me hot chocolate, alongside a plate of crackers. He put in the Totoro DVD and I anticipated seeing the serene and beautiful world associated with Studio Ghibli movies. I was snuggled up with Charlie and had my head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

“Are you feeling any better?” He asked.

“Physically, no, but emotionally, yes.”

“I’ve never seen this movie before. How good is it?”

“Very. It’s comforting, light hearted, and filled with lots of innocence and imagination.”

He smiled. “Hmm, seems like it’s right up my alley. I’m intrigued.” He picked up the case. “What is a Totoro?”

“He’s a forest spirit. He’s a mix between a cat, owl, and raccoon. You’ll like him, he’s a gentle giant.”

We watched the entire movie, the two of us making side comments every now and then, and Charlie loved every minute of it. By the time the famous ending credits serenaded, I was ready for a nap. Charlie turned it to Ghost Adventures reruns. I desperately wanted to stay awake, but I knew by then I couldn’t. I didn’t mind too much because I knew I had all of their episodes on DVD. I warned Charlie I might fall asleep.

“That’s fine,” he said, kissing my forehead. “This is just so you have something you like to lull you to sleep. I might take a nap myself.”

Within minutes, I fell asleep and had vivid dreams inspired by the movie (something about it raining and Totoro roaring and flying in the night sky while I was roaming around a gorgeous forest). When I woke up, I needed water. I went into the kitchen and downed as much as I could. Charlie woke up a few minutes later. I had to go to the bathroom again and Charlie helped me this time.

“I feel very sweaty and gross,” I sighed.

“You want a warm bubble bath?” He asked.

“You’d give me one?”

“Of course.”

I slipped my pajamas off and he filled the clawfoot bathtub with warm water and and sparkly white bubbles. He made it smell like two soaps called Cosmic RainbowBerries and Old Fashioned Flowers. Once again, my cold, achy body felt exposed, but stepping into the soapy water melted it away. The scent was amazing, and his firm and gentle hands cleaning my weak body made me sigh in pure content. He unbraided my hair and I embraced every moment of his nails and fingers working their way through my scalp. All the while, he was softly humming “Put Your Head On My Shoulder.”

Once I was all clean, he wrapped me in a soft towel as quick as he could so I would not freeze while he dealt with the tub. I picked out a long and soft nightgown with strawberries on it and thigh high flowered socks. I wandered back into the bathroom so he could blow dry my hair and rebraid it.

“Why look at you! You smell as clean as a spring flower! Perhaps the first rose in the meadow? Fitting for your name, dear!”

I laughed and hugged him. “I certainly feel like one thanks to you.”

When we returned downstairs, he began making chili for me, and I decided to play some Call of Duty Zombies. I took more medicine before I played and drank more water as I did. After eating it, talking with Charlie about various things, and snuggling up with him while playing, sleepiness took over again. By the time I went down from running out of options and being surrounded by the undead, I was about to fall asleep on Charlie’s lap, controller still in hand.

“I think, my darling, it’s time for you to find a more comfortable place for your head,” he coyly teased. “And as I would consider myself a gentleman first and foremost, I would certainly rather have my lady comfortable in a bed rather than my lap.”

I lifted up and rubbed my eyes. “Ugh, you’re right, my fever might be getting a tiny bit high again because it’s night. Sorry, baby.”

He kissed my cheek. “No, no, it’s quite alright. You are correct your fever might be higher now. Let’s head to bed.”

We turned everything off, I put my ponies (with the exception of a random three of Minty, Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash) and Totoro back where they belonged, but I held onto Kuchi Kopi. He carried me to bed as I snuggled with my toys and blanket in his arms. I set my ponies and Kuchi Kopi near the lamp on my side of the bed. I brushed my teeth, went to the bathroom one more time (but not to deal with my stomach, luckily, that would maybe be saved for the morning), cleaned off my glasses, and hopped into bed. Charlie has brought up my glass of water and set it near my lamp as well. He turned off the light and left us with the comforting white hallway light and Kuchi Kopi from beside me. We snuggled into bed under the covers and I held onto him.

“Thank you for taking care of me today and helping me every step of the way,” I kissed him on the cheek.

“Of course, my dear, anything for you. I know you’d do the same for me... well, if I could get sick, but I don’t, hence why I was able to take care of you to the extent I could without fearing exposure. But even if I wasn’t a vampire and could get ill, I’d still take care of you.”

“Awww, sugarpop ,” I kissed him again. “I wouldn’t want you to get sick. I wouldn’t force you to do it. I’m not even forcing you now.”

“I would anyways, and you know this.” He rested his chin on my scalp.

“You are the sweetest man alive, you know that?”

“And you are the sweetest girl alive. Once you are feeling better, would you like to visit the children? I am sure they would love to see their stepmother all healthy and well.”

“I’d love that, and we could make pillow forts, eat cookies and oatmeal, drink hot cocoa and watch Totoro together...” My eyes fluttered just at the thought and my body sunk into his.

“They would love that deeply,” he agreed. “I admit, in some ways, those two little girls in that movie remind me of my own Millie and Lorrie. I think they’d relate to their sisterly bond.”

“Mmmhmmm...” I snuggled closer to him, about to drift off.

“Good night, mignon,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“Good night... I love you too...” I mumbled.

We both fell into deep sleep. It had been a rough two days feeling as ill as I did, and I knew the next few days would be the same, but I had Charlie by my side to help take care of me. And that would make all the difference.

#nos4a2 #charlie manx #charles manx #nos4a2 charlie

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transhoverfish · 4 years ago

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What are everyone's "abilities" in Survivors? Ryley has good hearing and Milo glows but what do the others have?

!!! YOU HAVE ASKED ME ABOUT MY AU !!! THE FLOODGATES OF YELLING HAVE OPENED!!

OK SO. as u mentioned ryley has good hearing and milo glows. basically,

ryley = good hearing

milo = glowy boy

emily = electric detection (cooler than i describe rn my vocabulary is small)

danby = like emily's but reverse. controls electromagnetic things

roman = night vision

jochi = the most superpower like one, he got quick regeneration.

avery = telepathy!

bart = also kind of telepathy but more like future telepathy. he has future vision.

and i. never thought of one for ozzy actually and at this point i have no idea what to give them that wouldn't have been brought up prior so. u know genetics are weird! they just dont have anything ig. nobody look at me LABDKABDLABD

AND ALSO paul and marg have powers! paul got that peeper enzyme carrier thing, and marg got the very funny power of feeling others emotions. yes that includes the fish. yes this is one of the primary reasons she didnt kill paul over a decade of dealing w him. yes she hates it.

and the vesper haven't been sick long enough to develop anything! or at least thats what im going with bc i havent thought of anything for them yet 😔

AND NOW: LONGER EXPLANATIONS. IM GONNA GET CARRIED AWAY SO ITS UNDER A READ-MORE.

first off on the list: bart! so bart.. kinda has futuristic visions?? but the things he sees are not set in the stone,, as in if he dreams about smth (a lot like ryley can!) it is possible to change those events! most of these visions/telepathy type stuff were bc of the emperor and warpers, and also al-an! once the sea emp died and the warpers all calmed down his powers kind of go away a bit. i think i wrote al-an sort of mentioning it in one chap of awa?? but its only kind of implied. so he has rlly similar powers to avery except he can't tell what others are thinking and he can only kind of tell how his closest friends r feeling. so right now bart pretty much doesn't have powers! he can communicate w the warpers and sea emps much easier than the others tho (he's the only one that can talk to warpers! im not sure he'd get along w them after being hunted down by them for like 12 years though KABDLSBRLSHD)

avery has telepathy! this is because when he first shows up he jokes about having telepathy and i was like "haha. WAIT." and then he got telepathy! i realize its a bad idea to not come up with their powers until as im writing but uhhh well. i never said i was a fantastic writer who's smart. KANROSHROSBF.

he also kind of had marg's empathy ability but wayyy dialed back. he can only tell how other humans are feeling and he can only vaguely understand it as opposed to feeling the emotions himself like marg does. so he can kind of tell how others are feeling and he can tell what theyre thinking about! unless of course for plot convince he can't. strong emotions, especially strong negative emotions (ie. fear) can overwhelm him and makes his powers stop working. and if someone is convinced they're right then he wont b able to tell they're lying/hiding something! yay plot convenience!!

roman has night vision. i have no way of making this sound cool he just straight up can see really well in the dark. like a cat. most of the powers were based off where they originally landed and what would help them in that area! and roman landed in the sparse reef, which is so dark all the time i cry thinking about it. so he has night vision! his poor eyesight is probably all kinds of fucked up now tho.

jochi has regeneration abilities! now i know this might sound a bit much but he just heals from cuts and stuff faster and like. he bones heal fast. and he's more likely to survive smth that might usually kill someone, but its like a 10% higher chance of living nothing too much. he doesn't rlly get scars as much as the others, and its healed his old ones a bit more! this is by far the most unrealistic power of them all, but ya know its alien fish planet game who cares. basically bc his life support systems failed his spine got all fucked up and he got infected faster bc he was barely alive for the first few days and spent a lot of time w bart who was looking after him. power helped fix his back, but he still has a rlly bad limp and pretty much constant pain. big mood there khasar 😔✊

emily can detect electromagnetic waves! works best underwater. kind of like ryley's, but instead of hearing noises she can only hear anything electric, like vehicles or ampeels or heartbeats. gets all fucked up during thunderstorms though sadly. she's the only other one that can kind of hear warpers and can tell when ones about to warp around but she cant actually talk back to them. pretty sick if u ask me tho.

danby has p similar powers to her bc ampeels also spawn in the bulb zone. except he can sense them at a much smaller distance, cant hear warpers, and can control the waves around him! mostly just his own tho. so like, he can quiet his heartbeat or make it stop all together. scary power that he does not know how to control. uh oh. but he can also control other creatures a bit! he's very good at hiding bc of this, which is nice bc he loves to hide from scary things. very big mood once again.

milo is glowing powers! looks a lot like the transparency of a ghost levi or a crabsquid, although he isn't as see through as them. you can def make out like veins but not bones or organs. his powers are activated by touch, the more force behind will create more glow and more transparency! a poke = goes away within a few seconds, a slap = stays for a minute or so. instead of bruises, he just glows until the bruise would normally go away. he's basically a living glowstick. i have another joke for this but i cannot physically convince myself to type it bc its some shit emily would say to him and i cannot embarrass him like that LABDLABDKABAKD

andd ryley's super hearing! can hear basically everything within a mile radius at all times. im bad at math and i don't know the metric system but i think that's like around 1k meters. wait does the metric system use mile already. no. ONCE AGAIN NEVER SAID I WAS SMART.

OK ANYWAYS back on track! this means he can hear about half of the crater at all times. he's gotten p good at blocking out background noise and anything far away. typically only hears everything within like 300 meters of himself. so when he does get back to just hearing everything its like. u ever take out headphones in a busy place and everything kinda hurts for a few seconds bc its so much noise. yeah like that but 500x worse. he's able to concentrate on specific areas within this 1 mile field but if its far away it fucks him up good for a lil while. sorry ryley :(

and then the other two degasi! as mentioned before, paul can carry enzyme like the peepers, but he also can kind of make some himself! only small amounts and it works a bit less than the peeper enzyme does. he does not have to cough it up though thankfully it just like. idk how to describe this idea it can just kind of leave through his skin?? he has like no control over his power at all it just kind does its own thing and he deals w it. this is primarily how he and marg survive for so long w/o dying to kharra!

and finally marguerit! highly empathetic abilities that allow her to feel the emotions of anything around her! i thought it would be funny as hell to give MARGUERIT of all ppl Big Emotion Disease. this is a big reason why she has had yet to murder paul and why she's a lot less murderer like in the au. its hard to kill someone if you. you know. can feel exactly what they are. probably the reason she adopted Dog Bart/Legally Preston Emotionally Not. saw sad puppy and felt too bad to leave him. like paul, she has basically no control over it and is one of the reasons she does NOT want to go back to the survivors base and be around so many other ppl, she'd be feeling like, 13 ppl's emotions at one time. all these powers have fucked up drawbacks dont they??

once again sam, robin, jeff, maxim, and ozzy are (for now at least) not gonna have any powers! mutations are weird and ozzy just didn't get anything, and the vesper haven't been sick long enough for any yet!

OK THATS ALL. HOLY SHIT SORRY FOR YELLING FOR 15 MINUTES. GOT CARRIED AWAY. hopefully that explains everything tho OABEOABROANRJS OK BYE MY PHONE IS ALMOST DEAD

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akechicrimes · 5 years ago

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Prompt 37? Futaba and Akechi platonic/Futago siblings?

37. “Follow me. It’s okay, just hold my hand.”

after akira leaves tokyo, futaba does just fine without her key item, except for when she doesnt.

(one of them AUs were goro survives the engine room and rejoins the phantom thieves. no i will not explain. persona 5 canon AND persona 5 royal do not interact. for reference in this universe futaba and akechi are half siblings but only akechi knows that)

“Next time you see me, I’ll be a whole new person,” Futaba tells Akira excitedly on his second-to-last day in Tokyo. “I’m going back to school, I’m out and about by myself—oh! Oh! Did I tell you I said yes to Kosei? I told Kosei I wanted to go to Shujin and they offered me scholarship! And I went to the subway station by myself yesterday!”

They’re crammed into Akira’s Leblanc attic, sitting around a cake that literally none of them were capable of baking themselves, so they’d bought the thing from a bakery and decorated it with little black and red hearts. Ryuji is passing around his gross soda, while Ann is recounting some story that doesn’t matter with incredible enthusiasm. Makoto looks like she’s determined to enjoy herself and will hear no argument.

The whole thing is incredibly morbid, if you ask Futaba. It feels less like they’re waiting for Akira to leave Tokyo and more like they’re attending Akira’s funeral. Akechi in particular looks like he’s regretting attending, which honestly tickles Futaba more than it should, that the most dishonest Phantom Thief seems to be the only one looking as honestly put-off by the entire affair as everyone else is determined not to be.

That’s everyone else’s problem. Futaba might not be happy Akira has to leave, but she’s proud. She’s sad that Akira has to leave, but also she promised Akira that by the time that he had to leave, she’d be able to get around on her own, without clinging to him for support. And she is able. She kept her promise.

Tomorrow might be the day that Akira has to go, but today is the day that Futaba is Officially Recovered.

Akira does that annoying thing he does where he puts his hand on her head and messes up all her hair, like he’s a human cat showing affection by pissing everyone off. Futaba yelps. “Look at you. You don’t need me at all.”

“I told you that I’d be ready to say goodbye by the time you had to go back to your hometown,” says Futaba. “I haven’t broken my promises yet, have I?”

There’s a burst of laughter from Haru over something Yusuke said, who looks rather surprised to discover that he said anything funny. Both Makoto and Akechi snicker at him, and then stop immediately to glare at each other the second they realize they’ve accidentally wound up sharing an opinion.

Akira ignores them. “Well, you can still text me if you need me. Or call.”

“I’m trying to tell you I’m getting better and I don’t need you,” Futaba grumbles. “Also, what kind of psychopath do you think I am to call someone on the phone?”

“That’s what phones are for.”

“Calling people is scary.”

“I thought you were getting better?” Akira teases.

“I am!” she says, pointing a finger at him. “I am! Just you watch, Akira. I’m getting better every day.”

Six months after joining Kosei, Futaba locks herself in her room and does not reemerge for seven days straight.

She tells Sojiro that she’s sick. Sojiro tells the school that Futaba told him that she’s sick. She definitely fakes a hell of a good cough, and the school lets Yusuke send her her all the homework that she was supposed to be doing in the first place, but Futaba already knows it’s only a matter of time before Sojiro rats on her, and she won’t even blame him because it’ll be for her own good.

In the meantime, she has stashes of crackers and peanut butter from back when she was a full-time hermit. She hates the taste of peanut butter within three days. Her bed is a relief, soft like a home she never left, up until it isn’t anymore. It’s too soft. No matter how she lies on it, no matter how soft it is, a mattress just isn’t comfortable when you’ve been lying on it for seventy-four hours. It’s hot. Smothering. She feels like she’s going to drown in the blankets and they’ll have to fish her moldy, sweaty corpse out of the bottomless quicksand pit of her too-soft mattress.

The thing about being a shut-in is that you don’t actually like your room very much. It’s not a relief, or an oasis, or even a place you enjoy. You’re just terrified of everywhere else more.

She plays a lot of video games that she doesn’t even like. She watches a lot of Twitch streamers she doesn’t even like. She doesn’t do her homework. She ignores Sojiro. She pretends she’s alright to everyone who texts. She wakes up and goes to sleep and thinks about going outside and goes to sleep and wakes up and wonders if the whole last year and her cautious baby steps back into the world outside was all just a hazy dream.

There aren’t a lot of Thieves left in Tokyo, weirdly. Haru and Makoto both graduated, off doing business and law junk that honestly makes Futaba’s brains want to crawl out her ears, but all the numbers check out and Haru’s not in the red yet, and Futaba’s looked at enough people’s dirty laundry to appreciate Haru’s clean ledger. Akira’s back in his dinky hicktown, where there’s barely anything electronic connected to Wifi worth breaking into for surveillance, which is really boring.

Ann’s been doing so many modeling gigs that she might as well not be attending Shujin anymore. She’s practically surrounded by electronics, and all of them are connected to the internet. On any given day, Futaba can snoop through the internet trail of electronic file cabinets full of images of her face, emails about her face, paychecks for her face. Futaba sends Ann more than one email about creepy old dudes making gross comments about her, along with a bunch of other illegal shit they’ve done, plus their offshore accounts full of cash if Ann wants Futaba to sic a lawyer on them.

Ann looks like she’s having fun. Ann looks different on the other side of the computer screen, like she’s less real. Like she’s not someone Futaba really knows. Like Ann’s not someone Futaba’s literally cried on at one point in her life.

Ryuji is definitely attending Shujin, but between physical therapy, catching up on a whole year of track, athletic scholarship hunting, and studying for college admissions tests, Ryuji seems to have been swallowed whole by Shujin, really. Out of boredom, one day, Futaba went down that rabbit hole of researching what it takes to get recruited for track in college, and holy shit–apparently Ryuji’s coach was supposed to be helping him with that whole process, but of course Ryuji barely has a proper coach ever since Kamoshida left Shujin’s track program in pieces. The amount of networking he’s doing is insane, especially for one teenaged boy who barely remembers his homework every night.

Sometimes, when Ryuji’s forgotten to check his email in a while and there’s a message from a coach sitting in his inbox, Futaba will send him a text to make him check it. And then it’s all, What were you doing looking at my emails, Futaba and Which of my other passwords do you know, Futaba, as if Ryuji doesn’t just use the same password over and over and has literally nobody but himself to blame.

So it’s really just Futaba, Yusuke, and–weirdly–Akechi, who’s off doing his gap year and said he was going to go abroad, but then he never did. Not to be a huge snoop, but Futaba went digging through his junk for about five seconds and then she never did it again, because she felt really weird about finding out that the guy that killed her mom is looking into social work, volunteerism, and reforming the justice system.

Like. The man who killed the Thieves’ leader is now literally out there saving orphans. It’s wild.

She might’ve been the one to tell Akechi that he can start over again and do better, but she reserves the right to at least feel weird about it.

She does not call Akira. She talks to Yusuke at school, but she refuses to ask him to accompany her on the subway. She should be recovered by now, shouldn’t she? She was supposed to have gotten over all that when Akira left Tokyo. She’s doing fine. She’s just looking out for her friends. Her, living vicariously through her friends, who’re growing up and growing away, flourishing into young adults? Never.

Everything is the same.

Didn’t she help kill a god last year?

Didn’t she work so hard to get out of her room, to make friends, to reconnect with Kana-chan?

Didn’t she work so hard to change herself?

Didn’t she help change the world?

Everything is the same.

Tuesday, 1:43 PM

YUSUKE: Futaba?

FUTABA: yo inari

FUTABA: u got more homework for me or what

YUSUKE: Ah, no.

YUSUKE: I think your teacher finds it suspicious that I’m sending you homework when I’m not in your grade, as it is.

FUTABA: oh no

FUTABA: what a shame that we didn’t have an entire year of experience with getting away with wildly illegal magic brain crimes without raising any suspicion

FUTABA: truly emailing me like four pieces of paper a day is far too difficult

YUSUKE: Well, I can’t get your homework from your teacher, but I can give you more homework if you’d like.

FUTABA: ok bucko that wasn’t a challenge

YUSUKE: There’s a math problem set that’s been incredibly dull to get through when I have more important pieces I could be working on…

FUTABA: inari im sorry to say but

FUTABA: me literally doing your homework for you is about a thousand times more illegal than you giving me my homework when ur not in my grade

YUSUKE: Oh, is it?

FUTABA: wh

FUTABA: are y

FUTABA: what do you mean OH IS IT

FUTABA: did you not KNOW ur not allowed to have other ppl do ur hw????

FUTABA: inari have u been making other people do ur hw for u so u can have more time to do art?????????

FUTABA: no shut up i dont want to know

FUTABA: i will not be ur accomplice

FUTABA: i see ur little speech bubble thingamajig yusuke i said stop typing forever and ever

YUSUKE: I can’t invite you to the art gallery tomorrow if I can’t type.

YUSUKE: It also seems impractical for you to outlaw me from texting forever.

FUTABA: i literally did not say that

YUSUKE: You said, and I quote,

YUSUKE: “Yusuke, I said stop typing forever and ever.”

FUTABA: ok i know it looks like i said that but please im begging u it’s literally just an exaggeration

YUSUKE: As Makoto would say, it’s hardly an enforceable law.

FUTABA: u literally texted my sick and crusty ass just to give me a hard time

YUSUKE: Are you about recovered from your cold?

FUTABA: and now u have the nerve to ask me to go to ur art show thing

YUSUKE: I didn’t say that.

FUTABA: oh really

FUTABA: what were u gonna ask me about then

YUSUKE: The art show, naturally.

YUSUKE: But you could have done me the courtesy of letting me ask.

FUTABA: all that on the day of my daughter’s wedding and now u want me to do u a solid

FUTABA: well i have news for u

FUTABA: the answer

FUTABA: is yeah

FUTABA: sure why not

YUSUKE: Oh, excellent.

YUSUKE: I thought that you might decline on account of your illness.

FUTABA: i’m not a punk bitch

FUTABA: i’m going

FUTABA: u were only working all those paintings for like two months i wanna see their oily faces in person

YUSUKE: Just because they were made with oil paints does not mean that they are oily.

FUTABA: cant wait to see my oily boys

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, I have to set up the event beforehand, so I will not be able to accompany you on the way here.

YUSUKE: Will you be alright by yourself?

FUTABA: uh

FUTABA: hmm

FUTABA: how oily are these boys in case i need to call a rain check

YUSUKE: Hmm.

YUSUKE: Perhaps someone else can go with you.

YUSUKE: Let me see if I can find someone.

FUTABA: what like one of ur art friends

FUTABA: i’m not going with anyone i dont know sry

YUSUKE: I’ll keep it in mind.

Tuesday, 1:59 PM

YUSUKE: Unfortunately, Ann and Ryuji were not available. Both of them will be coming late to the art show.

YUSUKE: Fortunately, Goro is.

FUTABA: whomst

YUSUKE: Goro Akechi?

YUSUKE: Crow, in case you know multiple Goro Akechis.

FUTABA: no like why u callin him goro

YUSUKE: I asked him if I could and he said yes.

YUSUKE: There’s not many people left in Tokyo who were part of the Thieves.

YUSUKE: I’m not exactly popular at school myself, so I thought it prudent to hold onto the connections I already had.

FUTABA: hhhhhhhhhhhhh

FUTABA: but why him……………………………………….

YUSUKE: Has he done something wrong?

YUSUKE: Well.

YUSUKE: Besides the obvious.

YUSUKE: Last I heard, you were quite vocally supportive of Goro making a change for the better,but have you prehaps reconsidered?

FUTABA: i mean he’s always been nice to me

FUTABA: like even before he was on the team as crow

FUTABA: and then later after he like lost his shit and tried to kill us

FUTABA: he was also like weirdly nice

FUTABA: even if he was dressed as a tokusatsu villain

FUTABA: but

FUTABA: i

FUTABA: ok this is gonna sound really weird but like

FUTABA: you know how i said that the person to take me to the art show has to be someone that i know

YUSUKE: Yes.

FUTABA: even though akechi was one of the thieves at the end

FUTABA: i feel like i dont really know him

FUTABA: he like had that whole breakdown where he spilled all his kylo ren sadstuck junk and then he peeled his dumb ass up off the floor and then we beat up his dad in a dark alley

FUTABA: and then i guess akira likes him a bunch and hangs out with him and i guess probably talked to him about all that stuff that happened

FUTABA: and also i think ann talks to him

FUTABA: and also haru i think for some reason……………………..

FUTABA: but like i feel like. we as a group. never really uhhhhhhh

FUTABA: got to know him very well i guess

FUTABA: because he spent like the whole year being a fake ass bitch

FUTABA: and then by the time he wasnt, the thieves were busy literally fighting god, and it was all business business business

FUTABA: ughghfhg i guess this is just a really long way of saying that like yeah ok i guess i do know him but i dont think i really do

FUTABA: even when he was off the shits in the engine room it was like

FUTABA: somehow that was not……………………………….. really him

FUTABA: idk maybe this is just my Thoughts but like

FUTABA: idk some people are like “your true self is who you are at your worst” and

FUTABA: yeah maybe you are some PART of urself when youre at your worst but like

FUTABA: also not???

FUTABA: that can’t be it

FUTABA: that’s not ALL of you

FUTABA: so all i ever saw was him when he was being a fake ass barbie prince and then when he was like actively losing his shit

FUTABA: and both of those were like. two types of fake ass barbie prince

FUTABA: except obviously the one where he started screamin about murder and trying to kill joker was like, fake ass serial killer barbie prince

FUTABA: anyway i dont buy it for a second that seeing akechi at his worst means that i know the first thing about his “”“”“”“”“true self”“”“”“”“”“”“

FUTABA: like i know that i technically met him but also at the same time i dont think ive ever really actually met this dude

FUTABA: uh tldr what’s the truth crowboy

FUTABA: second tldr do you got anyone else i can go to the art show with because im not unpackin all that junk in the trunk while also trying to fend off a panic attack in the subway

YUSUKE: Well, to speak to "what’s the truth, crowboy,” I’d say he’s actually really funny.

FUTABA: WHAT

YUSUKE: Yes, actually.

FUTABA: YOU TRYNA TELL ME YOU SHARE A SENSE OF HUMOR W AKECHI

YUSUKE: As everyone knows, I don’t have a sense of humor.

YUSUKE: But if I did, that might not be inaccurate to say.

YUSUKE: Either way, we could ask Boss if he’ll take you to school.

FUTABA: no

FUTABA: im not makin him shut down leblanc for the day just cause i cant get my shit together

FUTABA: and i go to school by myself all the time now i dont need to be walked there by my dad like a four yr old

FUTABA: r u sure u dont have anyone else who can take me

YUSUKE: You said it had to be someone you know.

YUSUKE: I can take you.

YUSUKE: But I’ll be getting to Kosei early to prepare.

FUTABA: how early is early

YUSUKE: Four in the morning.

FUTABA: PLEASE INARI

YUSUKE: The people you know is a quite limited pool, Futaba.

FUTABA: shut the hell ur face i dont need u tellin me to make kosei friends too

FUTABA: i get my butt to school every day i’m already a hero

FUTABA: ok alright

FUTABA: crow-san it is

FUTABA: hhh

FUTABA: no shut up stop typing i’m fine

FUTABA: i already saw his dumb ass get inflicted with Horny from Yaldy God Himself i ain’t afraid of no crows

FUTABA: actually now that i remember that that was pretty funny mwehehehehehehe

FUTABA: OKAY send me the who what when where why

YUSUKE: There’s a PDF flier. I’ll send it to you.

YUSUKE: But I will have to type the email to send it to you.

FUTABA: oh my GOD inari

FUTABA: i swear to god ur not actually this dense and youre just pretending u dont know what an exaggeration is just to drive me up the wall

YUSUKE: Oh, that is a possibility, isn’t it?

FUTABA: WH

YUSUKE: Ah, last period is starting. I’ll have to talk to you later.

FUTABA: WHAT

FUTABA: NO WAIT

FUTABA: HELLO????

FUTABA: YUSUKE NO COME BACK

Tuesday, 2:53 PM

FUTABA: YUSUKE HAVE YOU BEEN MAKING AKECHI DO UR HW FOR U SO YOU CAN DO MORE ART??

FUTABA: IS THAT WHY UR ON A FIRST NAME BASIS W HIM

FUTABA: ANSWER ME STRINGBEAN

In Futaba’s opinion, there’s an infinite amount of more embarrassing reasons to pull yourself out of your depression pit than “I needed to yell at my friend for being a snotty bastard,“ and there’s worse escorts to have than the weird guy who went from being a professional murderer to their weird awkward friend. Firstly, if there’s anything that can motivate Futaba Sakura, it’s the primal urge to dunk on her friends for spite and memes. Secondly, there’s no chance in hell Futaba’s going to have a breakdown in front of Akechi.

She can do this. She got herself out of this grave once; she can do it again. Even if Akira isn’t here. She’s getting better. She promised him.

On the eighth day of her almost-return to hermithood, Akechi texts her:

AKECHI: I’m here.

AKECHI: Are you ready to go?

Futaba is wearing only an old shirt, no bra, sweats, and vaguely greasy hair from all the showers she’s skipped.

FUTABA: i’m SO ready

FUTABA: the readiest

FUTABA: ultra mega super ready

FUTABA: featherman ranger code name Ready

AKECHI: Oh.

AKECHI: Alright.

Hell yes alright. Time for Futaba to save her own life from her gravesite of a room.

With… Goro Akechi. Wow, life is weird, huh?

She drags on her Kosei uniform like a skin discarded long ago. It feels stiff. Maybe because it feels wrong to wear school clothes like a functioning human; maybe because she just hasn’t washed it in a week. The very idea of explaining herself to Sojiro stresses her out, so she doesn’t do it. The idea of not explaining herself to Sojiro, when he deserves an explanation and also would probably have a heart attack if he realized that she’d disappeared from her room without his knowing, also stresses her out, so she still doesn’t explain herself to Sojiro.

I told Akira I’m better now. I can do this. I did this for more than six months. I was out of my room in the real world, I went to the school festival, I changed my own heart…

She creeps down the stairs like a thief in her own house and pokes her head out the door. Goro Akechi is fiddling with his phone in the sun outside her house, looking like he, too, has only just managed to pull on his Human Suit and look like a guy who didn’t make shadows beg for mercy for fun, so it looks like this whole expedition is going to be a lot of fun.

"Futaba-chan?” says Akechi, only just noticing her lurking in her own doorway. “It’s been a while since we last saw each other. How are you?”

Futaba opens her mouth. No noise comes out.

Akechi’s eyebrows slowly begin to knit together.

“I’m good,” she says squeakily. Clears her throat. Holy shit, she’s not afraid of Akechi after all that junk they went through in the Metaverse. She saw him as a rat. She saw him visibly want to break his father’s face when Shido tried to apologize to him on live TV. Once, Makoto and Akechi got into an unironic, passionate, hour-long argument about whether or not it’s beneficial to color code your notes.

“I’m alright!” Futaba announces louder, maybe a little loudly, considering the way he looks only more concerned. “L-Let’s hurry up and get this sidequest over with!”

She pulls her hoodie over her head and jams her hands into the pockets and makes herself as small as possible and inches out of the doorway. “If you… say so,” says Akechi, and eventually matches her incredibly slow pace as she shuffles her way towards the main street.

When the noise of Yongen-Jaya’s street hits her, her heart rate (already high as hell) spikes even higher like the first day she’d come out of her room, but the old coping mechanisms come back like second nature: Breathe slower, avoid eye contact, remember her mission, stick to the sides of the streets. Breathe slower. She’s still got it. It’s still hard, but she’s got a whole arsenal of ways to deal. She can do this. She will kick Yusuke’s ass for being a dick, if only out of sheer spite.

If Akira were here, I could hide behind him and…

No, shut up, shut up. All she has is her hoodie and Goro Akechi. Akira’s not here. She can do this by herself.

Akechi makes precisely two attempts at small talk (“How has Kosei been?” “Have you seen the pieces Yusuke submitted to the art show before?”) before he realizes that Futaba isn’t going to respond by virtue of barely holding onto her shit by her fingernails. He shuts up and sticks close by. Futaba makes her way down the streets towards the subway like walking on a tightrope. The subway station isn’t busy, but she puts every step in front of her like she’s going to fall. Getting on the subway might as well be a highwire. Futaba and Akechi wait for the train in mutual silence to the sound of other commuters murmuring amongst themselves, like a toothless echo of Mementos’s depths.

When they get on the train, people around her are quiet, thank god, but all of a sudden she’s convinced that she smells because she hasn’t taken a shower in literal days, and she tries to pack herself into her seat as tightly as possible. The guy in front of her is scrolling through something at a ferocious pace and his thumbnail keeps hitting the screen with this incessant clack, clack, clack noise. The subway voice announces their next station as the doors begin to close, and a girl suddenly sits bolt upright, having realized that this is her station after all, and bangs Futaba’s knees hard as she passes. Futaba wants to curl her legs to her chest, but she’s wearing Kosei’s uniform skirt and it’d just make everyone stare at her if she did that on the subway. She curls her fingers into the skirt hem. She stares down at her knees and lets her hair drape around her like a curtain. She can do this. She can do this. Breathe slower. Even slower. I did this for more than six months, I told Akira I’m better now, I changed my own heart…

Akechi pulls out his phone. Futaba’s phone buzzes.

AKECHI: Are you alright?

FUTABA: i said i was ready dude

Akechi types and retypes an answer, which technically Futaba could just look over his arm and read, but instead Futaba flips through apps on her phone and pulls up a shitty mobile dungeon crawler. She dies four times before Akechi puts his phone away without sending anything.

They pass multiple stations like that. Futaba sure as hell hopes that Akechi’s watching which station they’re on, because she isn’t. After the millionth time she dies, Futaba just closes the app altogether. Concentration’s shot. Can’t focus on anything. Heartbeat’s too loud. Breathing’s too loud. The guy next to her is breathing too loud. Everything is too loud.

New text:

AKECHI: Yusuke said you’d recovered from your cold, but you still look a little unwell.

Futaba doesn’t respond to that. She doesn’t need Negative Nancy over here telling her she’s gonna crack. Because she isn’t gonna. The subway starts to slow, and the voice announces the station for Yusuke’s school. She’s literally almost there, she’s right there, she might die in three seconds because her heart is going to pound of her chest but at least she’s going to make it, she promised Akira that she was alright—

The subway doors open. Passengers stand to get off. Akechi stands up. Futaba drops like a rock.

“I can’t,” Futaba’s voice says. She sounds like she’s crying. “I can’t, I can’t do it, I—”

“Futaba—”

“I’m can’t do it, I—”

She buries her face in her knees on the dirty subway floor. Oh, she really is crying. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t…”

Around her, people’s feet stop moving. They’re staring at her. She’s crying on the subway and everyone is staring at her. “Shh,” says Akechi, like Futaba doesn’t know she’s being a loud and irritating pest, but then he takes off his winter coat and covers her with it. Suddenly everything goes dark. It’s a huge coat, too; it wraps around her whole torso with enough room to spare to cover her entire head. Inside, it’s like she’s back in her room, only listening to the sounds of real life somewhere on the other side of a computer monitor, where it can’t hurt her. It’s so surprising she hiccups to a stop. Two hands pull her up by the shoulders and guide her to stand. “Up. Let’s go.”

“Is she okay?” says a voice.

Futaba’s entire body seizes with fear. She ducks into her own knees, trying to disappear.

“Hey, little girl, are you alright?”

“She’ll be fine,” says Akechi’s friendly, super fake ass barbie prince voice. “My sister just had a hard day. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“A hard day?” Now the stranger’s voice is accusatory.

“For your information, our dog was recently brutally run over in front of her eyes.”

“Young man, are you serious right now?”

“Oh, yes. There was blood everywhere. Its intestines squelched horribly under the tires less than six feet away from her,” Akechi goes on. Futaba chokes, and then hiccups in what she realizes is almost a laugh. “Please excuse her. Thank you.” And before the literal complete stranger can follow up on that awful statement, Akechi takes her hand and pulls her up.

Futaba stumbles to her feet. If she has to take the coat off right now, she will actually die.

“It’s okay. Just hold my hand and follow me.”

Blindly, she lets him lead her out of the subway, weaving through people with only minimal contact with other people’s shoulders. There’s a whole awkward period where Akechi has to walk her up the stairs out of the subway station while she can’t see anything, but eventually the noise and bustle of other people around her seems to die away, and the air grows cooler in the way it does in the shadows between city buildings. Then they stop walking altogether. When Akechi lets go of her hand, she almost tries to grab it back before she catches herself.

“Okay. There’s nobody else around, now. It’s safe.”

Futaba doesn’t come out of the jacket. In the dark, her eyes dart back and forth, trying to see even as she blinds herself.

“Sorry for grabbing you so suddenly like that,” Akechi’s voice goes on after it becomes obvious she’s not going to come out.

Futaba wipes snottily at her own face. Oh, this is so gross, she’s got snot and tears on top of five days worth of grime and body juice because she hadn’t taken a shower. She’s disgusting. She really actually wants to die right now. She can’t show her face like this.

“Er,” says Akechi. “Do you want…. water, or…?”

Futaba folds up right there on the city pavement, probably dragging Akechi’s nice coat all over a dirty alleyway. She tucks her face into her knees, where she feels safest, and pulls the coat flaps even tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’m sorry for not being okay,” she mumbles.

There’s a short silence. “You really don’t have to be.”

“I do,” Futaba says. She feels like she’s nine years old again, a petulant kid who needs to hold people’s hands and be escorted around Tokyo. “This is—it’s stupid, and I can’t believe I-I’m still doing this, a-and even a-after everything that h-happened last year, I’m still just a… I’m still…”

“It’s fine,” says Akechi. Even he sounds overwhelmed, and at the first sound of weakness, she pulls the coat off her head and glares at him furiously, red-faced and covered in tears and snot and gross depression juice crust and all.

“I’m not supposed to be this way anymore!” she says miserably. “I’m supposed to be better! Moved on! Doing literally a-anything else but crying over t-taking a subway! It’s stupid and nobody else is like this and I just want to be over this already and I just want to be better already and—!“

She covers her face with her hands again. God, even when she says that, it sounds pathetic.

After a moment or two, she hears Akechi moving again. She peeks at him. He’s crouching in almost the exact same pose as her, looking like he’s resigning himself to neither getting his coat back, nor moving from this spot any time soon, nor getting to Yusuke’s art show on time, but also looking archly and entirely unperturbed about it. Actually, it looks like he’s writing a work email on his phone.

Futaba was right about being in an alleyway, but it’s so cold because they’re shielded by a trio of vending machines selling canned coffee and wrapped sandwiches. "Our dog was recently run over?” she says.

“People can mind their own damn business,” says Akechi in his Pleasant Boy Voice, without looking up from his email.

“He was just trying to help.”

“Oh, yes, let’s help the crying girl by crowding her and suffocating her in a crush of public transit.”

Futaba snorts. “That was really mean of you.”

“Oh, absolutely,” says Akechi.

Futaba sucks a truly disgusting gob of snot into her nose. “Ugh. I wish I could’ve seen the guy’s face when you told him that.”

“It was like I’d spat on his shoes. I should’ve kept going. Or had a camera.”

“Futaba giggles wetly into her forearms. "Like one of those—those prank videos online… Get Yusuke to film it.”

“Yusuke, as the cameraman? I’m not trying to make a documentary.” Akechi flips to a different screen on his phone. “I already texted Yusuke about our poor dead dog, by the way, so don’t worry about it.”

Suddenly Futaba feels like literal garbage again. “Why are you always so nice to me?” she mumbles.

Akechi makes a weird face, like he’s trying to do his old Pleasant Boy shtick while having swallowed a lemon whole. “You say that like me being nice is somehow unusual.”

“Uh, yeah. Because it is. You literally were just being a huge asshole to a guy you’d never met over a fictional dog.”

Akechi has this increasingly disgruntled look on his face like he kind of wants to punt Futaba down some stairs, which, frankly, is the best sort of reward, in Futaba’s opinion. “I’m working on it,” he says grumpily.

“How’s that been?” says Futaba.

“Which part?”

Futaba has one whole moment of self reflection on this idea as maybe not a good course of action before she barrels on anyway: “The part where you’re turning your life around. Starting over. Trying again.”

“It sucks dick,” says Akechi.

“Oh, right on,” says Futaba, and then before she can stop herself: “Wait, I thought you liked dick?”

Akechi makes a noise like a strangled cat.

Futaba cackles. “Dude, incognito mode when you’re browsing for porn does not save you from people like me.”

“Have you been spying on me?”

“Uh, yes? Obviously?”

“You know you could get arrested for that sort of breach in privacy.”

“Oh, boo hoo, so sorry I know all about your weird orphan-saving night job and your smutty Featherman doujinshi collection. You’re not gonna narc on me.” Futaba stops. “Are you?”

“Stop looking at my internet history.”

“No. You better not narc on me.”

“Then stop looking at my internet history.”

“You had to google how to change a SIM card last week, crow-boy; you couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

“I will narc on you.”

“No you won’t. You’re the one trying to not be an asshole.”

Akechi makes a face like a cat being slowly submerged in cold water. Futaba laughs in his face.

“If you’re quite done,” says Akechi grouchily.

“No, never. You’re made for being made fun of,” says Futaba. “I’m gonna be making fun of you for years and years, crow-boy; you’re never going to get rid of me.”

“Great.”

“Gonna be creeping on your weird orphan-saving night job until the day you die.”

“Wonderful,” says Akechi without inflection whatsoever.

“Mwehehehehehehehehehe.”

“If you’re quite done.”

“I will take a well-deserved break from my endless duty to troll you both on and offline,” says Futaba. “Because I really really really wanna go to the art show.”

Akechi has the nerve to look relieved that he no longer has to squat in a dirty alleyway listening to a high school freshman bully him. “Then let’s go.”

Futaba hugs her knees tight. “But I wanna keep your coat.”

“Aren’t you wearing your own coat?” says Akechi, trying to look like he isn’t shivering. “Aren’t you getting hot?”

“I’m keeping it.”

“It’s my coat.”

“I’m keeping it.”

“Fine, then. Keep it. It’s dry clean only.”

“Oh, ew. No, take it back, gross, gross,” and Futaba peels the snotty, tear-stained, dirty winter coat off and dumps it back in Akechi’s arms, who looks at it with the expression of someone long-suffering and without hope of escape.

“And,” says Futaba, “I wanna see it if you tell anyone else that our dog got run over.”

Akechi smirks. “You’ll have to film it, then.”

“Oh my god, like I wouldn’t.”

Futaba scrubs her face one last time. She still feels like she’s covered in a grimy layer of slime, but maybe she can wash her face at Kosei. When she gets there. Because she’s gonna get there.

“Uh, one more thing,” says Futaba.

“Not like you’ve bullied me into doing literally everything else you’ve wanted,” says Akechi.

“You can’t laugh at me.”

“Good thing I don’t have a sense of humor,” says Akechi, which horrifyingly confirms to Futaba that Akechi and Yusuke, of all people, really do share a sense of humor.

Futaba hesitates. “Please, um… please don’t tell Akira about this.”

“Why would I tell Akira?“

"Nice. Good answer.” She smooths her hair down, trying to make herself presentable, or just have something to do with her hands. “I… told him I was gonna be okay without him and all that, so… I don’t wanna let him down, you know?”

Slowly, almost shyly, Akechi smiles. “Oh, yes. I know.”

“Our secret. Secret-keepers.”

“Secret-keepers. Are you ready?”

Futaba takes another deep breath. Pushes herself up, brushes herself off, and sighs. “Absolutely not. This is gonna suck so much dick,” says Futaba. “Let’s go anyway.”

#mine #slams hands on table FUTAGO SIBLINGS #futaba's dubious mental health cw #Anonymous

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snakeboistan · 4 years ago

Text

WHUMPTOBER DAY SIX: PLEASE

“Get it Out” I No More I “Stop Please”

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26911249/chapters/66190579

Pairing: Karmagisa

The rattling of raindrops pelting onto the dilapidated roof and broken down windows reverberated through the abandoned warehouse, mingling with the cacophony of moans emitted by the harsh gusts of wind. The air felt cold and chilly, but Karma was undeterred. Unlike the rest of his classmates who joined him on this rescue mission, he wasn’t taken aback by the appearance of the storehouse, with it’s rusted metal walls, crumbling floor and pieces of broken metal, glass and cardboard scattered around the floor, just waiting to cause harm. No, he had something far more important in mind to worry about the high pitched squeaking of rats and the dark splodges on the walls and ceilings of this ramshackle building that looked and smelled suspiciously like dried blood.

No, he had a goal in mind. A goal that was 159 cm tall and had the most beautiful blue eyes imaginable. A goal that he couldn’t bear to live without and had been missing from his side - where his rightful place was - for the past few hours. You see, earlier that afternoon, Shiota Nagisa - his boyfriend, his better half, his everything - wasn’t answering his texts, which, to anyone else, isn’t the biggest red flag but to Karma, it sent alarm bells ringing. Nagisa always answered his texts, always, unless of course he’s in the bathroom or his mum…

Well, anyway, that wasn’t the case because his mother had left a day ago for a business trip and wasn’t returning until a few days later but who cares when he still hadn’t replied to Karma after an hour, 50 texts, 20 calls and 10 voicemails later. So now Karma was jittery. He prided himself on being cool and calm in times of distress, in being able to think clearly and logically to come up with a plan - it was one of the things that Nagisa admired about him - but now, there he was, pounding furiously onto the wooden surface of Nagisa’s apartment door, not giving a damn about how loud he was being. His heart was racing and why wasn’t Nagisa answering dammit! His phone chimed and he looked down, hoping and praying that it was a text from the blunette with some sort of explanation or apology for scaring him. But all he saw was:

Unknown: Come to the E-Class building. It seems like a little blue haired boy has gotten a bit lost.

The rest of his classmates were in a frenzy when he had arrived; voices were raised, tears were shed, morbid conspiracy theories were flung around like they were pleasantries. But he had no use for them, he had no use for anything that didn’t give him an explanation. He stormed in through his classroom’s doors like a hurricane, ready to tear down anything and everything that stood in the way between him and Nagisa. His bloodlust was strong, palpable and whilst it wasn’t as overpowering as Nagisa’s, it was close and it stopped everyone in their tracks. He was wild, uncontrollable and was just about to punch something before Isogai’s grim figure handed him a piece of paper with coordinates on it, as well as a warning to not inform any of their teachers of this otherwise fate won’t be in their favour - a threat that seemed much more horrifying when written the few strands of baby blue that were taped onto the the sheet.

Perfect. He’ll show this sucker just who they were messing with and make them pay. With their blood.

…..

“Holy shit,” Maehara breathed, circling the walls in front of them with his flashlight, “this place is like a labyrinth.”

Isogai surveyed the many passages in front of them, his role as the class’ leader driving him to say, “We should split up.”

“Split up!?” Okajima whisper-yelled, his hands on his head, that was shaking wildly, “Are you crazy?! That’s exactly what happens in horror movies before people die!”

“What choice do we have?” the class representative argued, “there are too many options for us all to go at once and since this building is so off the grid not even Ritsu can give us blueprints. If we want to find Nagisa, splitting up is our best bet.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Kimura gulped as he heard a high pitched wail followed by the clamour of lightning and thunder, that for a split-second cast an eerie light onto the desolate building that they were in, “doesn’t make it less scary.”

“Well you guys can go on ahead,” Karma said as he walked towards one of the corridors, “I’m going by myself.”

“Karma-” Kayano started, only to be interrupted.

“Nagisa’s been kidnapped,” Karma’s voice was terse, “the last thing I need is you idiots slowing me down.”

“Hey,” Sugino said, eyebrows furrowed, “I get that you guys are dating but Nagisa is my best friend too. All of us are worried for him so it’s best if we work together to-”

“I mean it,” Karma snapped, pointing his knife threateningly at the crowd of his classmates, “I’m going by myself and if any of you stop me…”

Everyone shivered, and it wasn’t because of the biting cold.

“Just keep your comm-link on,” Isogai instructed, “so that we can all give each other updates.”

Karma nodded briskly and turned on his heel

…….

Karma continued walking, his government-given sneakers squelching on the puddles of murky water caused by the dripping leaks from the roof. He knew he was getting closer to the petite blunette, he could feel it. That magnetic force that always pulled him towards the shorter boy was what strung him along, acting as his own personal compass. However, despite his confidence in his path, when he found himself standing at the entrance of another empty room, he groaned and cursed to himself. But then, he felt it - that sense of danger that he can almost always detect. Hackles raised, he entered, not even flinching when the door slammed shut behind him. Ahh, so he’s getting close. If there’s one thing that he’s learned from playing video games is that when he’s getting near to the enemies he’s going the right way (“You can’t just say that every time you pick a fight, Karma,” Nagisa had said dryly).

“Well, well, well,” a menacing voice boomed out from the shadows, “what do we have here. Has the little boy come back to Daddy?”

Karma’s eyes widened.

That voice.

The sound of a switching flicking was what he heard before the single, dimly lit overhead lightbulb fizzed to life, flickering hazy yellow onto the murky grey walls and floor and revealing the owner of the other person in the room and his suspicions were proven correct. That burly build, flattened dark hair and deranged countenance.

“YOU!” Karma yelled, taking a threatening step forward.

Takaoka laughed, “Oh hello there, what seems to bring you here. Did you miss Daddy?”

“Where’s Nagisa,” he snarled, doing his best to push down the desire of stabbing this guy in the chest. He couldn’t kill him - no matter how good this bastard would look with the light in his eyes dimmed, with his own hands covered in the blood of the monster that took away the only good and pure thing he had in his lonely and cold life - after all, as much as he’d hate to admit it, Takaoka was the only one who knew where Nagisa was. Then, once he had his little blueberry in his arms, he’d make the man beg for mercy that he’d never give.

“Who?” Takaoka asked, his head tilted and voice lilted with faux innocence.

“You know who,” Karma’s temper was at optimum level and he couldn’t get rid of the red seeping around the edges of his vision if he tried.

“Oh you mean that little blue brat that defied me? He’s fine. More than fine actually.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?!

Karma glared, face dark with rage, “If you hurt a single hair on his head-”

Takaoka laughed, eyes wild and manic, “Don’t worry you’re little head about him. Why would I hurt him when he’s so useful to me?”

Useful?

“What the f*ck are you on about?!” Karma yelled, “WHERE THE HELL IS HE?!”

“Patience, child,” the man cooed condescendingly, “you’ll find out soon enough. Oh the expression on your face is adorable. I can’t wait to see what you and your friends will look like when you all die.”

“You’re going to kill me?”

“No,” Takaoka smirked, “he is.”

Before he could blink, he felt his back slam hard against the wall, sending a sharp burst of pain up his spine. Thin fingers were wrapped around his throat, trapping him in place. He opened his eyes to get a look at his attacker only to feel an anvil drop in his stomach.

Lightning struck, illuminating Nagisa’s hard face, making it look stern, jagged and sharp around the edges, nothing like the sweet little angel that would smile and blush at the slightest hint of praise, nothing like the warm comforting gaze that would be directed to him as they walk together hand in hand. His eyes were glowing electric blue, tinted with uncharacteristically unnatural green near the circumference of his pupils.

“Na-Nagisa…” Karma breathed out, both in shock and due to the struggle he currently had in breathing.

“What,” Takaoka grinned as Nagisa tightened his grip, “was this not the reunion you were expecting? And to think he was so disobedient before. All it took was a few drops of a serum and now he’ll never go against me again.”

“What-what did you do to him?” Karma whispered, fear like no other swirling in his gut.

Takaoka’s face darkened, the facade of abnormal happiness washing off of him. He growled out, “your class took everything from me: my job, my titles, my reputation. Everything I loved, everything I worked for. You broke it, destroyed it with your own hands. So I decided to return the favour. You see Daddy knows what’s best for his children. And if destroying things is what you brats want then that’s what you’ll do. Starting with the one who thought it would be a good idea to go against me to begin with. Of course, I can’t kill you all by myself so I needed to get some help and this little rascal was the perfect guinea pig. You see why would I want to break you down myself when I can get one of your own to do it for me. Well, I’m going now. I hope you kids play nice.”

And with that Takaoka left, leaving the two of them alone in the abandoned room.

“Nagisa,” Karma choked out despite the fingers - the same fingers that would cup his cheek with all of the gentleness in the world - at his throat, “Nagisa, it’s me. Can’t you see me?”

‘He can’t hear you,’ Takaoka’s voice crooned in the back of his head.

He was losing oxygen so he had to act. Fast. With a grunt, he karate chopped the curve of Nagisa’s elbow, making the shorter boy loosen his grip so he used all the strength he could muster to push him away. However, all of his strength didn’t seem to be enough because Nagisa just pushed him back with full force, the impact of his head against the wall making black spots blossom in his vision. For a few seconds, the two of them were just shoving each other and Karma never felt so tired in his life. He always had the upper hand in a fight - even if he was against men double, triple his size. Months of street fights and self-taught weapon-handling would make it impossible for him to get so worn out so soon. If he were against anyone else, they’d already be knocked out.

But his opponent was Nagisa. Nagisa! Nagisa, who would always put others before himself, who would never deny someone a consoling ear or gentle hug, who reached out to a problem demon child like him with a smile despite the darkness he carried and offered him a life of warm smiles and gentle touches that he definitely did not deserve, who he loved with every fibre of his being - and who was currently glaring at him with hatred that he didn’t even know the other possessed. He can’t fight him. He can’t.

“Nagisa, please,” Karma begged, not caring that his voice was starting to crack, “snap out of it.”

Nagisa growled, the noise deep and feral and nothing at all like the pacifist he knew, as he gave Karma another hard shove. Karma retaliated by wrapping an arm around Nagisa’s neck, sending a knee in between Nagisa’s legs and pushing himself up so that he can wrap his legs around the other’s neck in a choke-hold, twisting his body so that the two of them were sent sprawling to the floor. Karma quickly got up but was then hindered by a sting of pain bursting along his calf. Gritting his teeth he looked down to see blood seeping out of a large cut on his lower leg before quickly dodging Nagisa’s knife-wielding (where the hell did he get a knife from?!) fist. Nagisa surged forward again but Karma let his instincts take over, using his arm to block his attack.

“Nagisa, come on, this isn’t you.”

The knife grazed his face, gashing a line of scarlet against his cheek.

“You’re not violent.”

He sent a punch to Nagisa’s face. It made the cracks in his heart grow.

“You’re not aggressive.”

He held onto either side of Nagisa’s face, trying to look past those tinges of unnatural green so that he could dig deep into the other’s unconscious, searching for any hints of the boy he swore he would spend the rest of his life with. Eyes. ‘The windows to the soul’, Nagisa called them. Well, it seemed like someone decided to close the blinds because the blank look he got back showed nothing.

But still, “I love you, Nagisa. I love you. Stop this, please. I don’t want to fight you, Nagi.”

Nagisa’s reply to his cries was a sharp thrust of his head, colliding his crown with Karma’s nose, sending him staggering backwards. Before he could even gather his bearings, the blunette jumped and kicked him with a spin, firing him to the floor yet again. His face burned, both from the grazes and from the stinging of his still tearing eyes. God, he felt useless. He’s the highest ranker in combat - why the hell was he still fighting a battle he could’ve won ages ago.

Wait a minute. Why was he still fighting?

Nagisa wasn’t a fighter. It’s no secret that he wasn’t the best at close combat (the amount of times he would find himself as the loser during sparring practice was more than enough evidence). His skill in assassination was suprise attacks. To come out of nowhere and then disappear into thin air like he was never there to begin with. If Nagisa was really trying to kill him, he would’ve just used his knife to slit his throat or stab him in the chest or something within the first few seconds. The fact that he chose to draw it out instead of using that speed that even managed to let him get the drop on Karasuma-Sensei - that meant that -

He was holding back. He was fighting it.

Karma felt like crying again. Even when he was under mind control, even when he was reduced into nothing but a killing machine, a soldier with no conscious thought and only had murder on his mind - he still didn’t want to kill Karma.

God, he really f**king loved his little blueberry. And he sure as hell isn’t going to lose him to some stupid brainwashing serum. He knew what he had to do.

Karma dashed forward and…

He felt Nagisa freeze when he wrapped the other in a warm embrace. In the corner of his eye he could see the shorter teen’s hand clenching on the knife but that didn’t stop him from burying his face into the other’s shoulder. He murmured, ignoring Nagisa squirming in an attempt to get out of his hold, “Please come back to me, I’m begging you. I love you Nagisa and I know you love me too. You’re stronger than this, I know you are - you’re one of the strongest people I know. I might be the one that gets higher grades but you, you’re the one that always knows what to do when it comes to people, who knows exactly what to say and how to say it. I can’t do this Nagisa please, I can’t.”

Nagisa had somehow managed to free an arm, raising it so that he had the point of his knife aimed at Karma’s back. Karma closed his eyes, waiting for the blow to strike only-

He heard the clattering of something metal hitting the floor. He felt small hands press tenderly against his bruised back. He pulled back to look down at an adorably confused face (still so beautiful despite the scrapes and bruises littering here and there), sky blue eyes looking at him with bewilderment.

“Karma? What’s going on?”

#assassination classroom #my writing

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johnmarstoned · 5 years ago

Note

Could I request Micah and Elizabeth just spending time together having some SFW fun (that could possibly lead to NSFW fun) together?

Thanks for the request! This is very much Micah’s idea of fun, fair warning. This got way long because I’ve also posted it on AO3.

NSFW content ahead! 🔥 💕

Micah and I have gotten into the habit, when we can get away with it, of setting up our own little camps at some remote location and meeting there and staying for a night or two, when we can think of a good enough excuse to be gone for so long. It can’t be too often, because we know people will start to notice if we are both gone, together, at the same time.

For Micah, it’s easy, he can say he’s following a lead, robbing some folks, whatever he wants - there are only so many times I can pretend I’m tracking down some speedy mare before they start to wonder why I never come back with more than a flush on my face and bruises on my knees.

On this particular day, we don’t bother with a camp, we take a chance on a town and hope no one else has decided to make the long ride from Clemens Point to Valentine for some reason. I doubt they will, the boys seem to be too busy with that business in Rhodes to bother with that kind of a ride. As pretty as our current camp is, I do miss it the fresh air, as I am not a lover of the heat.

We arranged to meet in Smithfield's, and I find him there, leaning on the bar and working on a whiskey. It’s busy, it being the evening, the tables full of folks drinking and eating, the piano playing jauntily in the background.

“Not drunk already are you?” I ask, leaning beside him. He looks down at me with a little look of surprise.

“Not many people can sneak up on me, ya know?” He says, and rests an arm gently round my waist. “Coulda slit my throat and I would never have known.”

“More likely to have picked your pocket.” I say, enjoying his closeness and the leather smell of his jacket.

“Nice girl like you? Not some kinda outlaw are ya?” He smiles down at me, clearly feeling playful.

“No, but I know a couple.” I catch the busy bartender’s eye and mouth the word ‘bourbon,’ to which he nods.

“Bad men?” Micah squeezes my hip a bit. “Scary, mean types?”

I fight the urge to laugh and reach up to touch his moustache.

“They like to think so, but I think they’re all soft as teddy bears.”

“Hmm.” He looks down my body, the opening of my blouse, holding me a bit too close for polite company as he likes to do when he can get away from it. “Can you hurry up and get this woman a drink?”

At Micah’s order, I get my drink quick enough, and we find a table in a quiet corner of the saloon, getting pleasantly tipsy and laughing so much you could almost mistake us for a real couple.

“Y’see, I get so used to seein’ you with them horses I forget that you ain’t as innocent as you look.” He says, after I tell him a story about slipping the watch out of the pocket of a man I was speaking to face to face.

“Well, it’s been a while since I got myself in trouble, I could forget as well.” I sip my drink. “Not that I think I’m so innocent looking.”

“Of course you are.” Micah says, leaning forward on his elbows. “With that pretty blonde hair and those big ol’ eyes.” He reaches across, completely unabashed, and puts a hand on my jaw. “Only giveaway that you’re a bad girl is these lips, they were just made for sin.”

“Micah…” I feel my cheeks flush and I shake my head. The way he looks at me leaves no question what he’s thinking about sometimes, what he wishes he were doing to me. It makes me tingle and think just as filthy thoughts as I’m sure he does.

His hand leaves my face and he looks amused that he’s managed to make me blush.

“Am I going to be regaled with any tales from your rough and tumble teenage years any time soon?” I ask, because although I’ve heard him mention his father and brother in passing, he’s never really gone in to more detail than what I’ve heard him telling the men round the campfire. His father does not sound like a pleasant man.

A look crosses his face, rather serious, before he breathes out a small laugh and shakes his head.

“Wouldn’t wanna ruin the mood, be honest with ya.” He says. “Not nearly as fun as your stories.”

I nod in understanding, choose not to push it, and finish off my drink. I suspect that there’s good reason Micah doesn’t discuss his past with me directly - it makes me wonder just exactly how nasty it was.

“You want me to get us another drink so I can tell you about when I stowed away on a train for a week?”

“I very much do, you little reprobate.” He says, and hands me a dollar bill for the drinks.

Micah watches every move I make, and I like it, he’s the only person whose scrutiny makes me feel good rather than on edge. I go to the bar and make our orders; I don’t think we’ll be here much longer, even after all the time Micah and I have been doing this, it still doesn’t take much to make us need to have each other.

I make the order at the bar, and wait for our liquors to be poured.

“Fine lady like you shouldn’t be paying for your own drinks.” A man leans on the bar beside me, wearing nice clothes and a bowler hat. “Let me get that for you.”

“Actually, I-”

“No, no, I won’t hear anything about it, you put that money away, pretty girl.” He’s standing a little bit too close to me. A young man, fairly handsome, I suppose, but not one I have any interest in, especially when I know Micah will be watching this whole interaction very closely.

“Sir, I’m quite happy to pay for my own drinks, if I could just-” I try to get the bartender’s attention, arm outstretched, but he blocks me off with his body and looks me up and down. He seems a little bit drunk, and doesn’t seem to notice my increasingly annoyed expression. Or care about it.

“Look, just let me buy you a drink, okay? Ain’t seen anyone who looks like you come in here before.” He puts a hand on my waist, and I feel myself freeze, torn between batting it away and most certainly catching Micah’s angry attention, and telling him straight where to stick it.

When I open my mouth to speak, he shushes me, and his hand slips from my waist to my ass and squeezes lasciviously. My blood runs cold with shock at the horrible intrusion, and I feel the rage beat in my chest.

“How fucking dare-” I begin, but I don’t get to finish, because no sooner is Micah’s hand on the man’s shoulder than he his clocked very hard across the face and falls heavily to the ground. I jump back out of his way, shocked, and Micah pulls the man up by the shirt scruff and punches him again with a meaty thunk.

“Hey! Take it easy!” Someone yells, as everyone backs up out of the way of the fight. If ‘fight’ is what it can even be called, Micah isn’t letting the groper up while he lands punch after punch on his face, his nose and lips bloody.

“Touchin’ someone else’s woman you little fuckin’ shit?” Micah sounds wild, enraged, probably more than I’ve ever heard him. “Fuckin’ kill you right here.”

I’ve never seen him fist fight before, and he’s just as vicious as I’ve been told.

My shock wears off enough or me to realise that people are definitely running to get the sheriff, and Micah beating this guy to death in the middle of the saloon cannot end well. I catch his arm on its swing back, and do my best to hold it firm.

“Micah.” I say, hopefully loud enough for him to hear my voice over his rage. “He gets the message.”

For a beat, he tries to pull his arm out of my grip, but then he looks at me; it seems to take him a minute to recognise me, but he loosens his hold on the man’s shirt and lets me step between them and put my hands firmly on his chest. “We have to go.” I say, making him keep his eyes locked with mine to ground him to reality.

“He touched you.” He says, voice harsh.

“And now he’s unconscious and we have to go before the Sheriff comes.”

“Get that madman outta here!” The bartender yells, and I don’t give Micah a chance to respond, I take his raw hand and pull him towards the door with all my strength, hope to god he can just leave it at this.

I’m stopped though, by one of the very lawmen we are trying to avoid, who has just walked through the swinging doors.

“What the hell is going on in here?” He yells to the room, adjusting his white hat.

“That guy beat the holy hell out of this one!” The bartender points between them, and I look back at the scene. It doesn’t look good, splashes of nose blood on Micah’s shirt, bruises on his knuckles and a man lying on the ground with his face beaten to a pulp.

“Woah, woah, woah, I’m sure we can figure this out.” Micah holds up his hands, voice changing from raw rage to light amusement.

“We can talk about it in at the jail, come on now.” The lawman grabs Micah’s arm firmly, and starts to tug him away. Panic sets in my stomach - I absolutely cannot explain to Dutch how Micah managed to get locked up in Valentine when we were supposed to be all the way down south, and why I had been with him in the first place. Why I had lied to Dutch about where I was going to be.

“Sir, you don’t have to take him in.” He drags Micah out of the saloon into the night and I follow. I really hope Micah doesn’t reach for his gun, a dead lawman would not help anything. “Please, he’s my husband, things just got out of hand.”

“Can’t be causing trouble like that, ma’am, man could have died. Might still die.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” I say, thoughts racing with what I can actually do to stop Micah being locked up or doing something reckless, as I know he can tend to do in these situations.

The plan isn’t the best, but it’s the only one I can think of at short notice. I size up the lawman; he’s not very tall, doesn’t look particularly muscular. I pick up my pace so I’m facing them and he stops walking.

“Get out of my way please, ma’am, your husband can wait in the cells until we find out if that poor guy’s gonna wake up.”

“I just wanted to apologise, in advance.” I say. A confused look passes his face before a land a knee to his balls that sends him doubling over, enough so I can punch him with all my strength and knock him into the wet mud.

It has been a while since I’ve punched someone, so the plain runs from my knuckles to my wrist immediately, but I am glad to know I haven’t completely lost it.

“Come on.” I say to Micah, who is looking down at the lawman with a stunned expression.

We don’t have time, I take off running to the closest horse, Baylock. “Micah, come on!”

His dark laugh follows me as we make a run for the horse, shouts ringing out as people realise what I’ve done. He gets on first and pulls me up after him; adrenaline runs through my body, pulsing in my neck. I put my arms round his waist and hold on for dear life as he sets off fast pace.

The shouts ring out behind us, with my fingers in my mouth, I whistle my horse to follow. Micah’s still laughing, whooping even, but I can hear the sound of hooves on the dirt behind us that aren’t just my own horse.

Heart hammering in my chest, I look back over my shoulder to see the lawmen following us on horses,

“Fuck, Micah, we’re being followed!” I shout over the sound of the whipping wind and the gallops. My hair obstructs my face when I look back again, but I can see two men on horseback on our tail as Micah rides out of the town.

“I know, don’t you worry sweetheart.” He sounds entirely unfazed, kicking up speed and whipping round a corner so fast I feel like I’m going to fall off. My fingers dig into his leather coat and I press my forehead into his back, barely daring to look back.

We leave the road and ride into the trees, and I have to close my eyes because I have no idea how he’s a good enough horseman to avoid us smacking into a single one.

The sound of those following us recede, until all I can here is the steady gallop of my own horse behind us.

He rides for a bit longer, until we have definitely lost them, and stops up on a grassy hill somewhere near the river. The sun has set now, and the landscape is cast in the eerie white glow from the moon.

“Fuck!” Micah yells when we finally stop, my hair a blown out mess and absolutely out of breath. “Fuck, that was good!”

Micah is hyped up in a way I haven’t seen him be before. We don’t ever go on jobs together, but this is what everyone tells me he’s like. Crazy, out of control. I’m still in a daze, so he lifts me down from Baylock and grabs my arms.

“Now that was fun.” He says, and laughs that chesty laugh again. “You were…” He shakes his head like he can’t find the words. “You were a fuckin’ dream.”

Micah puts his hand on the back of my head and kisses me hard, looping the other arm around my waist.

“I am hard as a rock, watchin’ you do that.” He puts his hands on my ass and picks me up, clearly fuelled by adrenaline himself given how easily he does it. I can feel that he wasn’t lying, pressing against me while my legs are wrapped round his waist.

“Don’t you feel good? Just goddamn alive?” His voice is a growl.

He’s right, I do. My pulse is hammering and my knuckles hurt, but when I get my breath back, I do feel good, I feel great. Energised, excited, just the right amount of scared.

“Who knew you could throw such a punch?” He kisses me deep and I tighten my legs around him to press myself against his erection. “I - shit I gotta have you right now.”

Micah falls to his knees, and drops me clumsily on my back, making me laugh. He’s laughing too, breathlessly, as he pulls my skirt up to my waist and puts his hands on my thighs.

“We gotta do this more often.” He says, voice a rough grumble. “Like seein’ you as a bad girl.”

“I can tell.” I say, pulsing between my legs and nipples pressing against my blouse. It’s almost too much, I’ve barely gotten my breath back from the escape and he’s already looking at me like I’m his next meal.

Micah pulls off my bloomers over my boots, wasting no time. I am fully aware that we are absolutely in the open, in the middle of a field in the moonlight where anyone could ride by, or spot us through their binoculars.

It feels animalistic, to have done violence and now to be doing this, and I’m not sure I’ve ever been so turned on.

So what if someone did see us? Rutting like hounds in the wild? I know, really, I should be horrified by the idea, but I’m not, I quite like it.

Micah doesn’t immediately unfasten his trousers like I think he will, instead he bunches my skirt up around my waist, takes off his gun belt and lies on his stomach to put his face between my legs and my knees on his shoulders.

“Shit!” I call out into the open, and my hands scramble to grab handfuls of grass. He buries his tongue inside me, making an obscene noise, before sucking on my clit hard and making me moan desperately. My head falls back and my back arches so I press against his mouth.

“That’s it…” He licks me a few more times before moving back up my body and working on his belt buckle. I shudder, desperately needing to have him inside me. I look at him, his eyes glazed and his chest rising and falling in deep breaths. He looks so amazed by me, it makes me surge with pride.

With his belt and trousers open, he lays back over me and kisses me deeply. His hat is till on, ridiculously.

He teases the tip of his cock against me just for a moment before pushing all the way inside, and I feel winded, a shocked moan leaving my mouth at feeling of being so instantly filled.

“Fuck, fuck, you feel so good every damn time.” He says through his teeth. Micah buries his face in my neck and thrusts in and out of me; I knock his hat off with one hand and knot my hand in the back of his hair.

“So do you.” I moan, completely surrendering to the pleasure of the way he fucks me, harder and faster than usual. I cannot get enough, it feels so good. His hair is dry in my hand, I pull it a bit and listen to him grunt and groan in my ear.

Somewhere in my dizzy pleasure, I look over his shoulder at the starry sky, and wonder if this is actually the best I’ve ever felt. Micah makes me feel so damn... Special. He looks at me like he can’t believe I’m real and he touches me like it too.

I might love Micah.

And this is how I realise I might love him. After running from the law, while he fucks me on the dirt with our horses waiting at the nearby tree-line. Micah puts a hand on my knee and spreads my legs wider so he can get even deeper.

“Don’t stop.” I whine.

“Ain’t gonna.” Micah grunts. “Wish I could fuck you every damn second of the day.”

“Mmm.” I moan, and I can already feel myself getting close; his voice is running through me, rough and lusty.

The heel of my boot digs into the back of his leg; his jacket arms must be covered in grass stains with the way he’s holding himself up over me.

“Micah, Micah.” I release a handful of grass to lift his head from my shoulder to make him look at me. I’m close to the edge, and I want to feel his tongue on mine and his moustache against my lip. He groans into my mouth, slurs my name, and it pushes me over, the climax hitting me hard, making me shudder. I clench around him, it almost makes the fullness too intense; all I can do is hold onto him as the pleasure wracks through me, while I pulse around him.

“Shit,” he curses. His forehead presses against mine and a hand reaches up to cup my jaw. Micah’s thrusts are stuttered, clumsy, so I know he’s close. “Fuck, I fucking love you.”

His eyes screw shut when he comes inside me - mine fly open, distracted from the feeling of his grip and his come filling me up by what he just said. He grunts out his release, cock hitting deep, and doesn’t loosen his tight hold on me until it’s over.

My breath is shaking and my heart hammers in my chest. I’m not sure if he even knows what he said. When he opens his eyes, panting, I fix my face into one that isn’t so shocked and give him a peck on the lips, my cheeks glowing.

“You tired out yet?” He asks, pulling out with an almost pained grown and fastening up his trousers. I sit up on my elbows and try to figure out exactly how I feel. Certainly not tired out - if anything, I feel more energised then I had before.

“Not yet.” I say, with a smile and a shake of my head. ‘Do you know you just told me know love me?’ I want to ask, but I don’t. A man is liable to say a lot of things when he’s about to come, even if that had never come out of his mouth before.

“Good, me neither.” He chuckles a bit and finds his hat and gun belt on the ground while I pull up my bloomers and fix my skirt. “Saw a camp of O’Driscoll’s on my way here, not far off.”

“Oh yeah? And what about it?” I raise my eyebrow, he takes my hand and pulls me to my feet.

“Thought we could rob ‘em… Or just kill ‘em. Anything you want.” He seems to find it hard to stand still, not at all exhausted and wrung out like he usually is after we fuck.

“Why, you wanting me to go on a little tear with you?”

“Ain’t we already started one?” He grins, taking my hip in hand. “Night’s still young, sweetheart.”

I consider him for a moment. It has been a long time since I’ve done this kind of thing, had this kind of wild night. Said wildness dances in his eyes and the smirk on the corner of his mouth, like he’s daring me. This is Micah’s favourite kind of entertainment, I can tell, and it draws me in, my soul be damned.

“You got a gun?” He asks, and I shake my head. Micah makes a small grumble of disappointment.

“Could borrow one of your revolvers…” I suggest, looking down at the two guns holstered in his belt. Micah looks surprised for a moment, and he considers me for a long time, that penetrative stare that I can hardly handle.

He takes one of the revolvers and twirls it round his finger, second nature, before nodding at me to hold out my hand. I do, and he places it in my palm; his fingers linger on my skin.

It’s heavier than it looks, as guns always seem to be, well-worn with a painted red skull on the grip and the words ‘Vengeance is hereby mine’ messily carved into the barrel. I run my fingers down the metal, reverently, almost, because I know what these guns mean to him and I can’t believe he’s actually letting me hold it like this.

“Pretty.” I say, sending him a small smile. Micah is watching me very closely, a look on his face I can’t quite place.

“You-“ He clears his throat, which sounds a bit dry. “You look good holdin’ it.”

I breathe out a small laugh, even though he sounds very sincere, and to break the tension in the air, I pose with it, holding it out with my arm outstretched and pointing it at the tree-line with one eye shut.

“Do I look like Black Belle?” I ask, thinking about that cigarette card I’d seen a while back.

Micah looks at me for another long moment again, before shaking his head.

“No, sweetheart, you look like a whole other level of trouble.” His voice is a low rumble, and even in the dark, I can see the intensity with which he looks at me.

I lick my lips before bringing the revolver to my lips and gently kissing the tip of the barrel. In the feet between us I hear the shaky, raspy breath he breathes. “You love trouble.” I say.

After another beat, he steps closer to me, but doesn’t touch me again yet.

“I absolutely fuckin’ do.”

#micah bell #micah x elizabeth #micah fic #rdr2 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #request #Anonymous

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sammysreelreviews · 5 years ago

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Counting Down My Top 10 Netflix Original Tv Shows

Netflix has 593 original tv shows and counting. Yes you read that number correctly but, this also includes shows that are made by other networks but Netflix has the international rights to stream them for example: Peaky Blinders and The End of the F***ing World or shows they’ve saved like Lucifer and You but those won’t be included in this list. I’m always asked “what do you recommend to watch on Netflix” and these are my holy top ten that I know you’ll love. Once again, I’ve decided to make the list solely off of Netflix produced shows so shows they saved like You and shows they share like Peaky Blinders are unfortunately not on this list which is a shame cause I love the fookin Peaky Blinders. These shows are not only amazing they’re all shows I’ve rewatched many times like y’all these are my ELITE ten! I was gonna have this up weeks ago but I dead ass forgot to write/wasn’t feeling well mentally but here it finally is so enjoy my absolute Netflix favorites! Spoiler free!

10. Stranger Things (2016 - )

I mean we all know of the Sci-Fi phenomenon that is Stranger Things. I really wanted to rank this after season 3 came out and I’m not gonna lie I was a tad disappointed. This is a spoiler free post so I won’t give anything away to the people who take forever to binge shit but I felt like this season was dull, too cheesy, expensive but not in a good way, and directionless? Beside season 3, seasons 1 and 2 are immaculate and I hope season 4 is on point this time.

Status of show: Has been renewed for a 4th season

9. Atypical (2017 - )

This comedy about a teenage boy with Autism is one of the funniest and heartwarming shows EVER! Keir Gilchrist is absolutely brilliant in this and it really shows a side of autism we don’t normally see in the media. There’s family drama, lots of laughs, and some tear inducing moments. It’s a show you can binge super quickly so please give it a chance there’s nothing else like it!

Status of show: Renewed for a 3rd season

8. Big Mouth (2017 - )

The vulgar animated show that shows the trials and tribulations of puberty is a show that’s so fucking crazy it works. This is a show you can rewatch multiple times cause I promise you there are some jokes or scenes you’ll miss in the background. The planned parenthood episode is not only hysterical but also so well written its genius (also within the time I took to post this this exact episode was nominated for an Emmy). Nick Kroll, Maya Rudolph, and John Mulaney deserve all the awards for their voice acting.

Status of show: Season 3 should be coming soon

7. Bojack Horseman (2014 - )

Bojack Horseman is not only one of the best animated shows ever created but also one of the most depressing? Don’t get me wrong Bojack is indeed a comedy and it is HYSTERICAL but once you dig into Bojack’s past and really get to know him it makes you self aware in a way. I don’t like when my cartoons get sentimental but Bojack talks about mental health and if you know me I am all about checking your mental health.

Status of show: Renewed for a 6th season

6. Dear White People (2017 - )

The show based off the film of the same name about black kids in a mostly white elite college is very relatable, funny, and informative. Dear White People has drama, great conversation starters, and tons of laughs. Coming from a black girl in a mostly white area and going to private mostly white schools my whole life this show is like everything I could ever say. The writing is impeccable and is one of Netflix’s highest rated shows on Rotten Tomatoes.

Status of show: Season 3 is currently streaming on Netflix

5. Quicksand (2019 - )

This is a show I have literally BEGGED people to watch cause it’s just so well fucking done! I’m not gonna repeat myself and go on again but I will tell you the plot. Quicksand is about a girl who is the only one left standing after a school shooting happens in her classroom. The question is what the hell happened? The show then goes on to flashback on the events that happened before the shooting. This is a Netflix international show from Sweden and the acting is phenomenal, the story is powerful, and as chilling as it is you’ll wanna watch it again so um, FUCKING WATCH IT.

Status of show: Sadly unknown

4. Dark (2017 - )

It’s exhausting how many times I’ve told people to watch this sci-fi masterpiece but here I am again begging y’all to watch it. Dark is about a small German town where two boys go missing and what happens next no one could’ve prepared for. This is a show that’s so well written it’s scary like you can tell everything was planned out to the T. I just want y’all to know that this is probably the best show on Netflix. It would be number one on this list but the next three shows I’ve probably rewatched one thousand times. Any who, Dark is ending with a third season and it should be out in late 2020 so binge binge binge!

Status of show: Season 3 will be the last season

3. On My Block (2018 - )

The show about a group of high schoolers dealing with love, school, and gang violence is a show I’ve rewatched like way too many times to count. What I love about this show is that the cast is all people of color and while it is funny as hell when it gets deep it really tugs on your heartstrings. The characters are all so easily to fall in love with and I can not wait for season 3! Also the season one finale... whew!

Status of show: Season 3 is currently filming

2. Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt (2015 - 2019)

The quirky show about a woman who was kidnapped in her teens escapes and moves to New York is one of my favorite shows of all time. The references and situations on this show are even more special because sweet Kimmy (Ellie Kenner) only understands things from the 90’s since she was trapped underground for 17 years. The cast also includes Titus Burgess, Jane Krakowski, and Carol Kane. Everyone pulls their own weight on the show but Titus Burgess as Titus is literally one of the best performances I’ve ever seen on television. He should’ve gotten all the awards for his Lemonade episode ALONE! Not only is Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt funny but it deals with sensitive topics like #metoo and immigration in lighthearted ways. It’s repulsive how many times I’ve watched this show but honestly there is not a funnier show on Netflix. Periodt.

Status of show: Ended BUT, I heard there’s going to an interactive episode coming out so that’ll be interesting

1. Narcos (2015 - 2017)

This is now the 5th time I’ve mentioned this show on here. I’ve described it best in my last article here. For the love of Godney Spears please watch this fucking show.

Status of show: Ended BUT they focus on the cartels in Mexico in Narcos: Mexico which stars Diego Luna and is also a Netflix original

#netflix #netflix suggestions #netflix recommendations #atypical #stranger things #quicksand netflix #dark netflix #unbreakable kimmy schmidt #narcos #on my block #dear white people #big mouth #bojack horseman #millie bobby brown #maya rudolph #tina fey #dacre montgomery

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neaura-nightsong · 5 years ago

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Crazy Dream

So I had this CRAZY Dream last night, and I'm going to attempt to recap it.. So buckle in. So there was this weird party going on in this skyscraper downtown. I heard about it, and supposedly it was indoor camping in the building's basement levels. You put up a tent, hang out, there's food, live music, movies on projectors, etc. It sounded weird and fun, so I figured why not, and invited a guy I was seeing to come with me for the night. I got there first, with the tent and sleeping bags, and I figured I'd go in and set up and get oriented. The building was *really* high end and fancy, but I didn't get to see much of it except the lobby and basement levels. I had arrived pretty early, so there wasn't a ton of people around yet, so I scouted out a good spot, and went about setting up the tent and contents. Once finished, I decided to head out to get a bite to eat, then I'd come back and meet up with my guy friend closer to when things are winding up. I returned to the apartment building a couple hours later.. My friend still was running late and had not shown up. So I went back in without him. IT WAS PACKED NOW. Like, concert level packed. I was struggling to find where I had put my tent, everything was so disorienting and different looking now with so many people and other tents, many of them similar looking. Eventually I saw what looked to be my tent, shoved against a wall and squished, to make room for other people who had taken the space for themselves. Particularly, three guys in their early 20's who had set up right where my tent had been. I approached them, and said something like "Hey what the hell! That's my tent back there, why did you move it, that's really rude!". They said that nobody was there so they just did it, and so what. So I go over to my tent to pack it up and find somewhere else, when one of the guys grabs me. I struggled with him but he was way too strong. He then started to grab me in inappropriate places, and I screamed "HELP! HELP!" nobody heard or nobody cared. I continued to struggle, as his touching became increasingly sexual and inappropriate. Now I screamed "HELP!! RAPE! RAPE! HELP!" Still, nobody came to my aid. Now he covered my mouth with a hand. I realised that if this continued, they would never let me leave.. I had seen their faces, bodies, heard their names, etc.. So I decided to pretend that I consented at this point.. that his advances had turned me on or something, and that I was now into it. So I stopped resisting, and changed my body language, and when he uncovered my mouth I said something like "Actually yeah, let's do this". After it was over, they were all still hesitant about letting me leave. I told them I did not remember their names, that I had really bad memory.. and besides, why would there be anything to worry about if I ended up consenting, we were all just having fun right. They let me leave. I grabbed my tent and walked away casually. As soon as I was out of eyesight, I dropped the tent and started running... I was in panic from what had just happened. I found a quiet spot, and called my friend to tell of what had happened, and vent. That's when I saw something strange.. Some guys were holding pistols, and talking aggressively, talking about doing something, and how they should do it. I didn't have the mental focus to worry about this right now, so I went to the elevator and went up to the Lobby. The Lobby.. There was a security booth at the front of the lobby, with a security officer on duty. I went up and knocked on the bullet proof glass, and asked her if I could come inside the booth, and that I needed to talk about something that happened in the basement. She could see I was crying and in distress, so she let me in. That is the moment when the elevator doors opened, and two people, one male one female, wearing all black, came out, one carrying a revolver, and one carrying a semi-automatic pistol. The first thing they did was come up to the security booth, and started shooting at the door, trying to get it open. But as I mentioned, it was made from bulletproof glass, and took minimal damage, though they were slowly wearing it down. That is when the security guard took out her revolver, and got ready for them to break in.. which they did. and shots flew in both directions.. I was standing beside the door that had been broken open, trying to push it back closed, against the force of one of the people in black. The security guard took the man out. But now the woman was enraged, the pushed the door open wide, despite my efforts, and shot the security officer right in the gut. She was out of bullets now, but the officer was not. She takes aim at the woman, but the woman grabs onto the gun and tries to push it into a different trajectory.. So I grab onto it too and push it back into its intended trajectory.. into the woman's head. The security officer collapses from her wounds, but I continue to struggle, and pull the trigger. The woman dies. I just killed someone. What the hell is going on. I exit the building, and that's when I overhear I couple people in a very expensive car nearby. I learn via their conversation that this whole camping party thing was organised as a birthday celebration for the daughter of a mob leader.. and that the leader, had a sister, and this brother and sister were warring over who whould be in charge of the mob, after their father had recently passed away. The building was owned by the brother, but the sister was here to take control and subvert her brother. Holy shit. I was in the middle of a frigging mafia war. But later I would learn it wasn't that simple.. There was a dark reason that the sister had not taken action until now. I just didn't know it yet. At this point I decide it is best for me to act like one of the regular party-goers, and like I hadnt seen or done anything unusual. I go out to the car where the daughter (the one the party is for) was, and she looked visibly upset. I ask her what is wrong, and say "this party is all for you, isnt it? How come you're not getting to enjoy it!" She tells me they wont let her in because of something happening with the building, and that she doesn't think she'll get to go. "Aww, that's too bad.." I say. "Well I really hope that changes, and you can go have some fun!". "Thanks" she says. Great, now the daughter of a mob leader has had a positive friendly association with me. This could help me later on. I continue this strategy, innocently chatting and being friendly with people who appeared to be closely tied to what was going on.. all the while pretending I was clueless to the fact that there was anything more going on here than a fun harmless party. It was working. Now most of the daughter's body-guards, and staff knew who I was, and had had friendly interactions with me. Not likely that their first instinct will be to shoot me when they see me, now. Eventually, they deem the situation stable enough that the daughter and her staff are moved into the upscale lobby of the apartment. They hang out, watch tv, talk, etc, and I am there with them, buddying it up. A few times, the elevator doors would open, and members of the Brother's (the guy who's apartment it is) security forces would burst out, and I would have to act like I was defending the daughter and her staff, and take defensive actions. This helped to prove my loyalty, and show them I was cool with what was going down. ~~~~Some of the dream is lost~~~~~ Eventually, the Sister (The rival) comes in to the building, concerned that the takeover is going more slowly and messily than she wanted.. I am in so deep now, and she is told of everything I've done to help them.. She wants to recruit me to go up into the levels of the building, and clear it out of anyone who is loyal to her brother and not her, and log/document my actions as I clear each floor. Let's be honest, my choices here are agree, or be deemed disloyal and probably be executed. So I agree. I am given guns and ammo, and a stack of paperwork, and keys to an apartment on the 80th floor. I am told that the floors closer to the top are safer, and the lower floors are still in heavy conflict, or secured by her opposition. The first thing I do is go to the 80th floor and go into "my apartment". It's nice. But, what the hell have I gotten myself into?! WTF! I decide what I will do is kinda roam the floors, scouting things out and getting a feel for what's going on, and then I will later on go and fill out the paper work, and falsify it with fake kills and etc so it looks like I had been busy working for her. I start with the high floors, since those are supposedly safer. That's when I start to see something I can hardly believe. There was more going on here than I suspected. The people loyal to the Sister, they werent human.. At least.. not entirely.. The only way I can describe it is that they looked like genetic mutants, each having different and random variations that made them more powerful, dangerous, or scary. Meanwhile, the people on the lower floors, they are just regular people, mostly civilians. This isn't a mob takeover, this is some kind of genetic freakshow genocide, or aliens, or what?! I don't even know anymore! After a long time, I return to my "apartment". I receive a call from the Sister. She wants me to come down to the lobby and rpesent my paperwork and progress reports, and celebrate with them, have a drink, etc, because aparently the whole thing is going very well, and they've cleared every floor above floor 17. Okay, I am just finishing up some work, but I will be down there shortly, I say. Time to quickly finish falsifying those logs and paperwork so it looks like I've been reasonably productive, but not so much as to draw suspicion. I describe what I had seen on each floor, and make up kill logs for enemies I had "taken out". When I finished, I headed down to the lobby. Everyone there was in good spirits, and I received lots of congratulations on my small part in the work. They poured me a drink, and I joined them in the festivities. The Sister said she had to go, and that she'd be going to the top floor to set up her new command post, now that this building was being captured in her name. That seemed fine, since there was like 70+ floors secured between her and her enemies, and the win was ever closer in sight. (I almost didn't want to mention it, but she did some weird alien psycho-kinetic stuff to me when she congratulated me, and made me feel all turned on and good, but like cranked up to 1,000. Was this some way to control me?) "But, I'd feel better if she had at least some backup, out in the hallway, I should go with her." I said. The remainder of the group commended me for my diligence, and off I went. I wasn't going there to protect her, though. I was going there to kill her. It was easy. I came to the top floor, and she had her back turned to me.. I shot her 8 times in the head and chest. Then I lit the room on fire, and left. On the elevator ride back down, a little boy got on, from floor 12, and said he was going up to floor 67 to find his friend.. I had to talk him out of it.. if he tried he would surely be killed.. "We have to get out of here, now! People have to find out about what's going on here!" The boy was sad... he was even wearing his monster halloween costume to try to blend in witth the freaky mutant-aliens he would have to get past. But he didn't fight it.. I think he knew it was a suicide mission. But at least this way, if we get out, and find help, we might be able to save some people. So we left. Not through the lobby, but through a back fire exit. We went to the nearest place that had a phone and made just about the strangest 911 call ever to have taken place... The End

#dream #nightmare

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ladyofpurple · 5 years ago

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answer all of the questions!!

holy SHIT ok bless you omg

(sorry it's a full day late i took this shit SERIOUSLY. don't ask me how many hours this took, i was in A Mood™️ last night. removed the ones already answered xoxo)

angel; have you ever been in love?

yeah. didn't end too well, but i loved him.

petal; favorite novel and author?

this is like asking me to pick a favorite child. i guess favorite author would be stephen king, if only based entirely on the sheer quantity of his books i own alone. favorite book would probably be special topics in calamity physics by marisha pessl, and i'm only saying that because it's been my go-to response for years. i have lots of favorite books. ask me again in five minutes and i'll give you another one.

honey perfume; favorite perfume/scent?

freshly made coffee. lilacs. jasmine. cut grass. the ground after it rains. chocolate chip cookies in the oven. cigarette smoke on skin. my mom's shampoo. my grandma. my dog when he's just had a bath. thanksgiving dinner. acrylic paint on canvas. sawdust. that one cologne i can't name but can smell on a guy from a mile away. mulled cranberry and apple juice. vanilla. coconut. fresh laundry. peppermint.

sweet pea; what’s your zodiac?

virgo sun, pisces moon, scorpio rising ✨

softie; talk about your sexuality.

i'm biromantic asexual, primarily attracted to men more than women (but have had too many crushes on girls to consider myself het), generally sex repulsed when it comes to the thought of having it myself. i prefer to call myself queer in passing conversation, it's easier than explaining asexuality and the differences between sexual and romantic attraction. if someone asks more specifically, i'll usually just call myself bi for simplicity's sake, even though the ace part is a much more important (to me) part of my identity. monogamous as fuck.

i'm still struggling with internalized homophobia and a lot of "am i even queer enough" thoughts, which is super fun. took me a long time to even consider the fact that i might like girls at all. i'll probably never come out to my parents. not that they'd, like, disown me or whatever, but they're juuuuust homophobic/transphobic enough that my few attempts to educate them when they say something A Little Yikes have shown me that i should probably just stay in the closet unless i absolutely have to come out. like i'm getting married to a woman or something.

sugarplum; what’s the color of your eyes and hair?

i usually say my eyes are green because it's easier, and they mostly are, but i have rings of greyish blue around the irises and sometimes they're more hazel in the middle. they always have a green tint to them though, even if the intensity of the green varies.

my natural hair is brown, a little on the darker and slightly ashy side of completely generic. currently a former blonde, although i'm hoping to bleach my fucking YEAR of growout soon, and then go some crazy color as a last hurrah before i have to go dark again. being broke fucking sucks.

wings; coffee or tea?

tea!! black tea. chai, to be specific, with an irresponsible amount of milk and sugar. chai lattes are a fucking drug okay? coffee makes me sick (not a judgement, a literal fact. last time i tried some i threw up).

fairytale; are you a cat or dog person?

cat!! but my family has a chihuahua named sonny and you can pry that little monster from my cold dead hands ok i will fight you.

snowflake; favorite time period?

okay, i wrote and rewrote my answer to this about 10 times. then i tried to divide it up into categories (aesthetics, history, fashion, vibes, geographical location, etc), but that didn't help. so basically: i don't have one, because i have too many.

i like the american 20s-60s for the aesthetic, music/movies, and the fashion. i also like the european 1600s-1800s for the interesting history and also vibe. i love the french and russian revolutions — the fashion! the art! the wars and political upheaval! I FUCKING LOVE HISTORY. then, of course, we can't forget the rennaisance. or the witch trials (pick your continent). and ancient greece? the roman empire? hello?? did i mention empires? how bout we mosy on over to south america — can i interest you in the mayans? incans? aztecs? what about china and japan? korea? vietnam? and don't even get me fucking STARTED on the black plague.

ancient egypt? sign me the FUCK UP. vikings? yes please. the celts? oh boy. the MYTHOLOGY. the ARCHITECTURE. the LANGUAGES and POLITICS and LITERATURE and REVOLUTIONS and GOD HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE BETWEEN ANY OF THESE

i uh. might have gotten a little excited. basically i like history a lot. and mythology. and linguistics. and cultural practices. and the politics and prejudices behind wars and stuff. and learning in general. moving on.

vanilla; do you believe in ghosts?

let's put it this way: i don't not believe in ghosts??

listen. we don't know jack shit. we don't know what happens after we die, there are constant scientific revelations that turn our understanding of the universe completely upside-down, and there is literally no way to know which religions or myths or urban legends could have some grain of truth to them. like, dude, i've literally thought i was haunted before. psychology is bananas and the universe is infinite.

demons could be real. ghosts could be real. what if we just haven't invented the necessary technology to prove it yet? what if we never do, and they just fuck around alongside us, moving furniture and making shadow puppets on the walls just for kicks until the earth explodes? what if that one tumblr post was right and ghosts are actually real people from alternate universes or timelines that we see accidentally bc some cosmic wires got crossed? who fucking knows.

i love horror movies and scary stories and ghost hunter shows just as much as the next gal. but listen. psychics? mediums? people who accept every single creepypasta retold third-hand from their neighbor's kid's classmate's second cousin who "totally knows a guy"? doubt.jpeg

i don't understand the sheer amount of assumptions made willy-nilly about the nature of ghosts and demons and things that go bump in the night. the assumption that "oh this machine that totally doesn't look like a coathanger taped to a walkman will work because ghosts have this temperature and can always communicate like this and are electromagnetic" or whatever just baffles me. to a certain degree, following a general consensus is one thing — some basic things everyone can agree on? that's cool. ghosts can walk through walls and are probably dead people or whatever. but oh my god, taking every single story as absolute, undeniable proof?? taking these stories and expanding on them to infer intentions and scientific facts to something that by it's very nature is unknowable and assuming, like, every spirit is created equal?? and yeah, ghost hunting shows are fun and campy and kinda creepy but like. you really, genuinely don't think any of them have ever faked anything at all??? even if ghosts are real, it's fucking reality tv, my dude. it's the entertainment industry. at least maintain the slightest ounce of critical thought before taking zak bagans' word as the goddamn gospel.

and sidenote, maybe it's just my limited exposure as a white woman in the western world, but of all the shows and podcasts and movies and documentaries and whatnot i've been able to find and consume, there's the constant use of christian ideology applied to every situation that just really burns my bacon. what, there's never been an atheist ghost? if you see a shadow person and you don't know the lord's prayer by heart, are you automatically fucked? why are there never stories about, i don't know, viking ghosts? does your religion in life preclude you from becoming a ghost in the first place? is that why people never mention buddhist ghosts? i don't get it, and that's why even though i'm self-admittedly the most superstitious person i've ever met, true believers make me roll my eyes so hard they almost fall out. makes me come across as more skeptical than i theoretically am. I HAVE VERY STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT THIS OK

but like, you couldn't pay me to fuck with a ouija board. i'm not stupid.

delicate; diamonds or pearls?

both have their appeal and their place, but diamonds, i guess. i like the sparkle. but fake ones!! or synthetic. diamonds are overpriced and artificial scarcity is a scam and i don't need a dumb rock that some poor person in a mine somewhere was exploited and possibly died for. no blood diamonds in this house, thank you very much.

if i ever get engaged, i don't want a diamond ring. i'd want something cool, a little unusual, like a ruby or a sapphire or some other sparkly gem that isn't literally shoved in your face every waking moment as the expected standard symbol of True Love. they're cheaper, they're cool-looking, as a ring they still hold the cultural symbolism of an engagement/wedding ring. and honestly, as long as it's well-made and durable, whatever hypothetical gem it is doesn't have to be real either. i'm a woman of simple needs and demonstrably low standards. no point in going into debt for a fucking piece of jewelry, regardless of ~tradition~.

lavender dream; favorite album?

oh lord. welcome to the black parade, i guess. or anything by panic! at the disco. there are dozens of possible options — my interests are mercurial and my memory is garbage. but i'll always be an emo little shit. black parade and vices and virtues were also the first two albums i ever listened to where i loved every single song on them, and i happened to listen to them for the first time at around the same point in my life (i got into mcr super late. like, 2012 late. rip).

silky; what’s your biggest dream?

it's cheesy but i guess i just want stability and, by extension, happiness. emotional stability, mental stability, financial stability, stable living situation, stable routines, stable relationships... you get the idea. i have ambitions and passions, of course, but my ultimate goal is happiness at this point in my life, and i'm pretty sure stabilizing all those things would go a pretty long way in achieving that goal.

a little apartment with walls i can paint because white walls make me angry. bookshelves and posters and fandom merch on every wall. a computer i can actually play games on again, and somewhere i can paint and draw and record my podcasts. someone who loves me, maybe. a cat, if i'm stable enough. space for people to come visit me, and a place for them to sleep if they need. a tiny balcony, if i really want to shoot for the stars. a job i don't hate. the spoons to hang out with my friends, and the money to not worry about buying little presents for the people i care about sometimes. i don't need much.

strawberry kiss; do you have a crush right now?

nope.

glitter; favorite fictional character?

another loaded question. like books, if you ask me again in five minutes i'll probably give you a different answer. but in this particular moment, caleb and jester from critical role (please don't make me choose between them). i won't go full shipping mode rn, but jester is so funny and silly and sweet, so much more complex than she seems, and she tries so hard to make everyone happy even when she's so sad inside. the healer who treats healing as an inconvenience in battle (she's so fucking valid and also mood), the glue that keeps the party together. and caleb learning to trust again, facing his trauma and coming out of his shell. he loves his friends so much he plays wizard as a support class and i love him so much.

i love the mighty nein in general, of course, and all the guests/honorary members they've had. pumat!! pls don't be evil reani!! keg!! shakäste and grand duchess anastasia!! cali!! kiri!!!! the brotps! empire siblings! chaos crew! nott the best detective agency! i still love molly and all his assholery to bits (fight me), and mourn his lost potential. i adore yasha, even when she's gone; fjord has grown so much; beau and nott and caduceus — i love all their flaws and disagreements and their character arcs and the excitement of watching them grow and learn. but if i had to choose, caleb, jester and molly have always been my top 3 since day 1 and, well, molly isn't really an option anymore.

but like i said, ask me again in a minute. i have a fucking list.

swan; share a quote or passage that means something to you.

a collection of things off the top of my head:

Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the compliment of rational opposition. — Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen

a tired feminist Mood™️

"What I say is, a town isn't a town without a bookstore. It may call itself a town, but unless it's got a bookstore, it knows it's not foolin' a soul." — American Gods, Neil Gaiman

i got my love of books from my grandma — some of my favorites i got from her. sometimes, as a treat, she used to take my sister and i to bookstores and we'd stay there for ages, getting to pick one out, roaming the shelves, the mental torture of having to choose. the peace of being surrounded by thousands of potential worlds, so much information, so many stories just waiting to be told; being surrounded by strangers who share that same wonder. the anxious drive home so we could read them, being unable to wait that long so i inevitably start reading in the car and make myself sick. telling her in excited detail all my favorite parts. if we were lucky, maybe we got to split a bear claw, or she'd drive past starbucks and get us something there too (tall vanilla soy steamer with one pump of vanilla syrup, whipped cream on top that always melted too quickly and squirted out the hole in the lid, so hot it burned my tongue but so good i didn't care). i have never felt more at home than i do when i'm surrounded by books.

"There are a lot of different types of freedom. We talk about freedom the same way we talk about art, like it was a statement of quality rather than a description. “Art” doesn’t mean good or bad. Art just means art. It can be terrible and still be art. Freedom can be good or bad, too. There can be terrible freedom. You freed me, and I didn’t ask you to." — Alice Isn't Dead, season 1, chapter 2: Alice

as cringey as it is to admit it, this line made me cry a lot after my breakup.

"So you aren't American?" asked Shadow.

"Nobody's American," said Wednesday. "Not originally. That's my point." — American Gods, Neil Gaiman

[side-eyes white america real hard]

there's more, of course. there's always more. don't even get me started on song lyrics, we'll be here all day.

lace; what’s your favorite plant/flower?

lilacs and roses.

mermaid; do you prefer the forest or the ocean? why?

both, i guess. but in different ways, and in different circumstances.

the sea is wild. it is endless and deep and unknowable. it is beautiful and dangerous. i am terrified of the ocean, and yet my favorite place in the world is an empty beach on the oregon coast. i have picked sand from between my toes for days with hair crusted in salt, danced around bonfires and watched the stars while marshmallows burn, gotten pulled under the waves as a child and nearly swept out to sea. picked starfish and crabs from small pools in the rocks, and swum (accidentally) with wild sea lions. in a long skirt, too early in the year to be swimming, i once took off my shoes and waded fully clothed into the water to my waist and just... danced. splashed and kicked and laughed with a boy i barely knew until our throats were sore and our toes were numb, walking home hours later with our soaked clothes clinging to our legs, shoes squelching, dripping algae as we went. the ocean is freeing and overwhelming all at once. i love it and am petrified by it in equal measure.

the forest is beautiful in a different way. it is silent and dense and serene. you are surrounded by life and yet, somehow, completely alone. there is magic in the forest, and history, and even when all else dies, that will remain. the trees grow from the corpses of their ancestors, and some have lived dozens of our lifetimes — with luck, a few dozen more. it is quiet there, peaceful, even the tiniest wood in the middle of a city muffling the outside world through the trees. you can feel the ancient ways deep in your soul as you follow winding paths strewn with fallen leaves, the mystery and wonder and superstitions of your forefathers. you wonder what it would be like, to run your fingers over the moss, to take off your shoes and socks and just run, leaping and dancing over rocks and roots, hair wild and air filling your lungs in deep, pure gulps as you shed the responsibilities and struggles of modern life, for just a moment remembering what freedom tastes like. it is primal, this connection to nature, one we have nearly forgotten over time. and as the sky grows dark and the silence of night presses against you, shadows looming, every footfall deafening, perhaps you begin to understand why some believed in monsters.

honeymoon; do you keep a journal?

i used to. honestly, that's a good idea, i should start doing that again. lord knows i have enough empty journal-type books.

starlight; do you believe in love at first sight and soulmates? why/why not?

i want to. i want to believe there's someone out there for me, the love of my life, someone to whom i'll be the love of their life, and that when i meet them i'll just... know.

but when i met my ex, i didn't really look twice at him for a while — no love at first sight. and when we were together, when i loved him and he swore he loved me back, i thought he hung the stars in the sky and knew i would marry him someday. couldn't even consider the idea that that wouldn't happen. and then when he broke up with me, he ghosted me so suddenly and thoroughly that he even preemptively cut contact with every single one of our mutual friends he thought might side with me in the breakup, before anybody even knew we'd had a fight. so, not soulmates either.

i really want to believe that someday the perfect romance will just fall into place and i can have the happily ever after i've always dreamed of. but the reality is i might never even have another s.o. for the rest of my life. maybe i'll get hit by a car tomorrow, or my hypothetical soulmate moves to argentina to become an alpaca farmer on a mountain somewhere and we never even meet. maybe i'm so traumatized by the betrayal and lies that i'll never have the courage to even try again.

and even so, happily ever after doesn't have to include a fairytale romance, regardless of whether i want it or not. i still like to cling to that hope though, deep down.

princess; what do you value most in people?

i'm going to assume you mean "real people" as in people i have positive relationships with, and not random strangers on the street.

loyalty. kindness. support. humor. similar values. patience. being able to grow together and teach each other things, so we can make each other better. honesty. trust. compassion. confidence. emotional vulnerability. communication. intelligence, or at least a willingness to learn. strength.

#nobody asked me to go this hard and yet here we are #my favorite pasttimes: talking about myself and being pretentious on main #Lady answers stuff #anon good nurse #Lady of Purple's slice of life #ask meme

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stevie-baby · 5 years ago

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so i saw your tags about talking to ghosts, the house i used to live in has a ghost named dottie and my mom used to hear me talking to her when i was asleep, like having full ass conversations with this woman, but i never recall any of them. but my dad also has had interactions with her, so i’m almost positive she’s real

Dude, holy shit. I don’t remember much of the conversations I had when I was younger, like the one I talked about in the tags, but my family has said I’ve always been some sort of weird spiritual conduit. I’ve mostly communicated with spirits of family members. One of my most prominent encounters is with my grandma.

This is a long-ass story

So she lived with us for the last few years of her life, when I was in middle school and high school, and in that time our bond had got even closer than it was before. She couldn’t be left alone for long, so my aunt stayed home with her in the day, I would take over after school and I would sit in her room, and then my mom would take over when she got home from work. My grandma actually ended up passing away in our house, keep that in mind for later.

So the week before she passed, some strange shit was going on. I kept having dreams of meeting elderly family members. I didn’t really recognize them, but they all looked like they were related to me and I knew their names. They kept looking at me and saying “wow the baby’s gotten so big”. It dawned on me that all of these people in my dreams were my grandma’s family members that either passed away before I was born or when I was really little (I was 14 at this point). It seemed odd that I was having these dreams, but I didn’t think too much of it.

One day after I came home from school, I went into my grandma’s room to sit and chit chat with her. We were talking for a bit when she suddenly said “I know where the people are.” to which I said “um what people Grams?” and she was like “The people on the plane. The one in Malaysia. I know where they are.” This was around the time that the Malaysian flight 370 disappeared. We didn’t keep the news on in our house. Hospice workers advise you not to have it on the TV as it stresses out elderly patients. How my grandmother knew about the missing flight was beyond me. I joked that she should let me know where they were so I could tell the government. Some say that when someone is “on their way out” they become more spiritually attune, meaning if she knew where those people were then they definitely were not alive. I tried to brush that incident off as her having delusions because her oxygen count was low. I was freaked tf out.

The next day I came into her room to talk again and I noticed she had her purse with her and she looked a little upset. I thought it was still about the whole flight thing. I asked what was up and she said she was waiting for her mom to come pick her up and that she was supposed to be there in about 10 minutes. Odd. Her mom’s been dead since 1975. I didn’t want to upset her more by reminding her that her mother had been dead for 39 years, so I sat with her and watched TV. 10 minutes later, the smoke detectors went off. Nothing was on fire, no smoke or steam anywhere. I thought that maybe the batteries were old, so I went around the house and changed them all. When I went back to my grandma’s room, she’d finally put her purse down. I was relieved that her antsiness from waiting for my great-grandma had stopped.

The routine was the same the next day. Dropped my backpack and shoes at the door, grabbed a snack, and headed toward my grandma’s room. I was walking down the hall to her room and I heard her saying goodbye to someone. I assumed that my aunt and uncle or some of my cousins were visiting. As I walked to her room I heard the smoke detectors do a little chirp. I walked into her room and she was sitting there by herself. I asked who she was talking to (maybe she had been on the phone idk) and she said “oh Jerry and Pete came to visit. Did they say hi on their way out? Darn, I wish they could’ve stayed long enough to see Dick and Ann.” Awesome, more dead relatives. So I sit there for another half hour when she says “I think they’re here” and I shit you not thE FUCKING SMOKE DETECTORS START GOING OFF. SCARY. HOW HOW HOW DID SHE KNOW “THEY WERE HERE”? WAS THIS AN ELABORATE PRANK MY DYING GRANDMOTHER WAS PULLING ON ME? I KNEW IT WASN’T FAULTY WIRING, THE HOUSE WAS RELATIVELY NEW. IT WAS ONLY 7 YEARS OLD AT THAT POINT. I was seriosly scared and I told my mom what happened when she got home.

That night I had my last family reunion dream. My great uncle patted me on the should and said “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of Mar”(my grandma). The next day she passed away. Funny enough, the smoke detector did a chirp as the mortuary van pulled away.

It was so weird. I had totally forgotten about the smoke detector thing until my birthday, when it went off again. My parents had the wiring checked to see what was making them go off, but the electrician said they were all fine. The smoke detectors didn’t go off again until my mom’s birthday. By now, I had sort of pieced together that it was something of the spiritual sort. They stayed relatively quiet after that (they went off for a couple more birthdays and holidays, but we’d gotten used to it.) The pain of losing a loved one began to fade. After about 6 months, we cleaned out her room and all of us grandkids divvied up her belongings. I took her giant bulletin board and some knick knacks.

I moved out of that house when I was 17. My dad still lives there, but my mom and I moved out. The single chirp from the smoke detectors that morning definitely didn’t go unnoticed. The little chirps when I would come back on the weekends were also acknowledged.

I went to college about 2,000 miles from home. It was weird because I was in a totally new place and I knew I wasn’t going home like other people, this dorm would be my new home. To make myself feel more at home, I used all my decorations from my old room including the bulletin board. It was a solid motherfucker, so I used a bunch of heavy duty command strips on it. It should not have gone anywhere. Key words: should not have. It stayed up for a good two months. Then a couple months later (on my cousin’s birthday and during haunting hour no less) it came off of the wall. I cursed the shitty command strips and checked the wall to make sure it didn’t peel any paint off when it fell before I replaced all of the strips and put it back up. A few hours later I was doing some homework when I quite literally saw this son of a bitch bulletin board rip off of the wall and fall! It was so fucking bizarre. Like, it did not fall off in a normal way. The strips didn’t peel off. No. I saw this whole thing come straight forward like it was pulled and then it dropped straight down. I couldn’t for sure say it was my grandma, the university I went to was old and supposedly quite haunted (a fact I learned after complaining about the command strip disaster). All I’m saying is that if it was my grandma, then that was a dick move Mar. You broke my laptop with your damn bulletin board.

Ok, last haunting. I dropped out of college after my second semester and decided to live with my dad again for the summer. Apparently my dad had all of the smoke detectors changed while I was away. But guess what happened a few minutes after I set my bags down in the house? Oh yeah, the smoke detectors went off. Not just one or two. All of them. My dad looked so damn distressed. He went to go get the ladder so he could start changing the batteries in them. I just looked around the room and said “hi Gramms! I’m home” and they all stopped.

So yeah, if you read that long thing I hope you enjoyed reading about my weird supernatural encounters. Thinking back on it, it doesn’t sound real. And maybe it’s not, maybe I’m delusional. I’m just saying that’s a lot of weird coincidences and technological failures if it isn’t something supernatural.

#i'm a semi-skeptic but also a fucking conduit for spirits #we getting spooky and talking about ghosts #zee shouts into the void

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elysiumwaits · 5 years ago

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This is the funniest scam ever to me

Shoutout to the scam email I just got.

The subject was just the password I’ve used for everything that doesn’t have financial info since I was 12, and has, of course, been released in multiple leaks over the years. The name for the person sending it has been set to “Save Yourself,” which is honestly the most hilariously dramatic thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

Scammy McGee not only opens up with some helpful tips on researching the malware he’s supposedly infected my computer with, he also tries to scare me by saying he can see everything that’s on my screen - like, great, dude, can you tell me what you thought about that scene I just wrote in my Taserhawk fic? You think it’s a bit overboard? If you’re gonna piggyback, I’m putting you to work as my beta, Scammy.

So anyway, apparently, I am supposed to be terrified because Scammy has “accessed my webcam” and recorded me “satisfying myself.” Two points:

It is written in what I am assuming is supposed to be emphasizing capital letters, but Scammy helpfully took a break from caps lock to clarify, which results in the most unintentionally hilariously semi-politely-worded threat I’ve ever gotten in my life -- “I collected all your private data and I RECORDED YOU (through your webcam) SATISFYING YOURSELF!”

Scammy, honey, I am the most unsatisfied person alive right now, I’m gonna need you to be more specific. Was it when I was eating the no-bake cookie? That was pretty satisfying. Was it while I was reading that article on immortal jellyfish? (Also, what are your thoughts on that, if you can see everything on my screen?)

So apparently, after he got my illicit satisfaction recording, he was so kind as to remove the malware - which makes total sense, you know, when you blackmail someone you totally want to take the tool you use to blackmail them away, yeah.

Scammy then goes on to threaten to send the video to my contacts (I don’t have any contacts saved here, actually, so good luck), post it on social network (which ones? Cause, like, if it’s the no-bake cookie video, there’s a niche market for that), publish it on “the whole web” (gonna need some specifics here, Scammy - like are you sending it to Buzzfeed? Making a Neopets account to drop it in the forums? Cause Reddit’s not that scary tbh) - including the darknet “where the sick people are” (one, the darknet does not give a flying holy fuck about my chubby ass, illicit video or not, because I’m sure the “sick people” have access to P*rnHub even on a Tor browser).

“I can publish all I found on your computer everywhere!” Bro, this is a chromebook, it’s got a picture of my Winterhawk bingo card, a stock photo of a mixtape, and one Microsoft Document copy of a bunch of articles about horse racing in the US, go fucking wild.

So apparently to stop this horrible awful no-good very bad video getting out, I must transfer $1400 exactly in Bitcoin. Scammy has also very kindly included instructions on how to buy Bitcoin, which are actually legit sites that I’ve written dumb financial articles about before so that’s funny as hell, as well as instructions to either send it directly to his BTC address or create my own wallet at the website - “whichever is easiest for you.” Like, thank you for taking my busy schedule into consideration, Scammy, you’re such a polite extortionist.

Also this: “Copy and paste the address directly, it’s cAsE-sEnSetiVE” - like, aw, you were an MSN era millennial too, Scammy? I feel like we’re bonding here.

So Scammy finishes with a vaguely threatening note about how he can access my email and will know when it’s been read, blah blah, but then he says that he’s got his mail configured to send the email multiple times, just disregard any duplicates I get after I pay and don’t worry about them.

So obviously if you get one of these don’t pay them, it’s a scam and passwords get leaked in internet breaches all the time. However, some important notes here:

I don’t have a webcam.

I certainly am not “satisfying” myself in front of a webcam, we have smartphones for that now.

If I am “satisfying” myself in front of a webcam, it’s because I’ve gone back to my SW days and I’m posting it for residual income on one of the many sites where there are already videos of that shit, bro. Like, I used to cam professionally - even if there were a video, which there isn’t because I don’t have a webcam, it’s literally one of the least scary things you can threaten me with, Scammy. I used to do this for a living, I eat blackmailers for breakfast.

You want $1400 in bitcoin, Scammy? Threaten to send that angry email I just dropped into my drafts to the recipient or publish that self-insert MCU fic on my GoogleDrive that hasn’t seen the light of day and hopefully never will. Now, those are some scary threats!

#scams #i should go to bed

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shoelace-noose · 6 years ago

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#078 | Truth

Mike Dodds/Klaus Hargreeves. Mike and Klaus get out of rehab.

Word Count: 1598

When Mike gets out of rehab, he has an apartment to go back to, a friend who’s been watering his plants and picks him up at the front door to say how proud of him he is. In spite of all the fucked up shit he’s gone through, there’s people and a place he can go to. He has a whole network of support for days when the craving hits hard, or his depression feels insurmountable.

But Klaus has nothing and no one. He was homeless before his third OD in a week had him forced into rehab, and his only friend besides Mike is his dead brother Ben, who he claims to still be able to see and talk to. The doctors referred him to a psychiatrist, but Klaus refused to do anything but talk in circles and lies and anything to keep from being forced to confront his issues. He’s like that, a mess and completely resistant to help. And it’s intoxicating enough that when they both hit thirty days at the same time, Mike offers him the couch in his living room.

The two of them walk out together, arm in arm as Klaus twitches with the need for a fix and talks in irritation to someone Mike can’t see, both holding their little plastic hospital bags of belongings that had been confiscated or otherwise stowed while they served their sentences. Peter is standing out front, leaning against his car with a smile on his face. A smile that quickly drops when he sees Klaus.

“You made it,” Peter says, pulling him into a hug, but unable to tear his eyes away from Klaus, who’s still talking to thin air. “And this is…?”

“Klaus. I offered him a place to stay while he gets back on his feet, he doesn’t have anywhere to go.”

Of anyone Mike has ever met, Peter is the most patient and understanding when it comes to mental illness, especially the scary ones. It’s probably because of his sister, and the way she went through life. Does Peter ever wonder if she would have turned to substance abuse, had she not gotten the help she needed early on? Would she have turned out like Klaus, drowning in drugs or hallucinations or both?

“Peter,” Peter says, holding a hand out for Klaus to shake.

For a long moment, Klaus just looks between him and the same empty spot he’s been speaking to all morning beside him. “Was she your sister?”

“Excuse me?”

“The woman beside you. Blonde. Looks like you. Covered in blood. Was she your sister?”

All the color drains from Peter’s face. He then silently gets into the driver’s seat, and does not respond. Klaus has a tendency to figure out how to hurt people, but it’s always general insecurities, stuff Mike picks up on from body language once Klaus points it out. This is too specific. It sets off alarm bells in Mike’s mind, the way they go when a suspect knows just a little too much about the case at hand. But obviously Klaus had nothing to do with Pam’s death, so what the fuck?

When the two of them slip into the backseat, Klaus choosing the middle because he insists his brother is sitting with him but he wanted to sit next to Mike as well, it’s time to ask questions. Mike hasn’t missed it, but something deep down says he has to.

“What were you talking about?” He hisses through his teeth.

Klaus laughs a little and plays with the medical bracelet curled around his wrist. “I told you, I talk to the dead. Apparently your boyfriend’s dead sister is still following him around, so.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Mike argues, as if that’s the important part of this. “And Klaus, you know that’s impossible-”

“Did you ever read ‘Extra Ordinary’ by Vanya Hargreeves? Her sweet little biography of the Umbrella Academy.”

No, he hasn’t, but it was big news when the previously unknown Number Seven spilled all the dirty little secrets the Hargreeves children underwent. There were sections about the family as a whole, and about each individual child. Number Four, Klaus, was the academy disgrace even before the book was published. Tabloids ran articles about him getting high during missions, and getting drunk on the streets as a teenager. Rumor has it that Four did it to suppress his powers because of how overwhelming they were, that Six joined him too for the same reasons before his death.

The dots connect. Four. Klaus. And his dead brother. Ben. Six. Holy shit. No wonder Klaus is so distrustful and constantly chasing after any high to get rid of the voices in his head, the voices that must be so much worse if they’re real and not a hallucination he can learn to deal with. Guilt at not believing Klaus the first time washes over him, but comforting Klaus is more important.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. At least I’ve got Ben to keep me company when everyone screams! Fun fact, a lot of people off themselves in rehab, did you know that?”

“Jesus-”

“No, I said it was Ben. Oh, by the way, Ben likes you. He thinks you’re very dependable and nice and…” Klaus squints and looks at the empty seat he insisted had to be left for Ben. “Oh, Benny, that’s so dirty-”

“Klaus,” Mike says gently, the way he always does when Klaus gets caught up talking to himself.

“Okay, fine, he didn’t say anything dirty. He just wanted me to tell you he thinks your eyes are pretty.”

Funny that Klaus blames that particular phrase on Ben, when he’s said it to Mike in the middle of the night when the nightmares are keeping them from sleep many a time. He’s always too tired to remember the conversations in the morning, but he says the company help. Once he admitted that people only pay attention to him when they want something for him, accompanied by a very lewd gesture. It set off alarm bells too, but a different kind. Mike hasn’t been in the NYPD, in SVU, for a good five years, but he never forgets the kind of pain he saw. Pain no one, especially not Klaus, deserves.

“Do any of your family know you were there?” Peter asks, suddenly reminding Mike that he’s in the car. “Or that you’re homeless?”

Klaus laughs, but it’s wrong. Broken. “No, of course not. Except for Ben, I don’t see them, like, ever. They all pretend I don’t exist. Oh, oh, except for Diego. We run into each other every now and then. He beats up my dealer, tells me to get sober. Yanno, real fun family bonding time. Fun fact, he usually picks me up when I leave rehab to try and keep me from getting high right away, but this last time when I OD’d and he drove me to the ER, right? He found me in the alley, it was this whole thing- but I expected him to be there when I woke up, and he wasn’t. The nurses said he wanted ‘em to tell me he wasn’t gonna come back.”

At the very end, his voice goes small and fragile. All he wants to do is hold him, comfort him, make it all better. Some very protective part of Mike in the back of his head says to start a fight with Diego, but he’s working on controlling those sort of impulses so he doesn’t act on them. That’s something else he started working through at rehab. He doesn’t need the high to control himself, he can do that on his own, all that stuff. And he’s got a couple shiny new prescriptions for bipolar with depressive tendencies- which he’s trying to remember to take even though they remind him a lot of obsessively popping xanax to make it go away.

“I’m sorry.”

“I deserve it.”

“No one deserves that,” Peter adds from the front seat. “They’re family, they’re supposed to love you no matter what.”

“Bold of you to assume they loved me in the first place. Honestly, I don’t even think any of us are capable of it, Daddy really fucked us up with the whole ‘torture and isolation and perving’ thing he had going on.”

The car jerks suddenly, swerving off to the shoulder and stopping too fast. Peter turns in his seat to look at Klaus with the same intensity he looks at case files with. Even knowing it comes from a place of concern, it’s enough to make Mike shrink back in his seat. But Klaus just stares at him with mild curiosity.

“What?”

“‘Perving?’ What did your father do?”

Klaus seems stricken by his own words and turns to the seat beside him again, listening to Ben’s input on the whole thing. As far as Mike has seen, Ben is usually the voice of reason for him.

“Calm down, he just had these freaky cameras everywhere, always watching. There was one in the bathroom, even. Five found it when we were like, twelve, and broke it. It never got replaced, or at least, not that I know. And to think, all this time the great Reginald Hargreeves acted like I was the slut who couldn’t control myself.”

“Klaus, that’s not okay,” Mike says in the calmest voice he can muster.

“Nothing in my life ever has been, so there.”

The car starts again, and they continue the drive back to Mike’s apartment, Klaus carrying on a one sided conversation- argument really- the whole way.

#klaus hargreeves #mike dodds #peter stone #tua #svu

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jchichibu · 6 years ago

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Things that God told me.

Hi, this took me a little long to pen down. It’s not because I’m too busy or I’m procrastinating – but simply because I am someone who tends to rank priorities wrongly. Penning down my thoughts about my 7-month journey in SOT (School of Theology) was something I was tasked by Lester, but something I really wanted to do even before he asked for it. Take it as a reminder for me, and take it as a 17-minute read of my 7-month endeavour for anyone who is interested.

My name is Jasmine, better known as Chichibu or CCB (Titus 1:15 lol) and I am 24 this year (it’s still 2018 as of 6:43 PM 31 December 2018 as I pen this on my way home from Malacca on the coach :P). I graduated from City Harvest Church’s School of Theology Class of 2018, and the course began from 26 Feb and I graduated on 30 Sep. As quoted by one of my favourite persons in my life Claria, I am certainly the “last person ever you will think of going SOT”. True, SOT never once crossed my mind even being in church since I was 16 and every year they ask you to tell your neighbours “Join SOT!”, but I never wanted to, or never thought I needed to. Throughout my Christian walk, the OG and most tangible thing was the love of God. I was never the most holy, most spiritual, most caring, most enthusiastic person for Christ and I might feel somewhat stagnant in my walk (but I was contented honestly). I was becoming lukewarm. I forget to read the Bible, spurt vulgarities or flash finger signals I probably should never ever have, think or covet for things I should not and did things I’m not proud of. I sometimes would not want to show I am a Christian because I don’t want people to think badly of Christianity. I am just not a standard girl you would expect to want to go SOT.

However, a week before the closing of registration of SOT I had a push from God to join SOT. I went for a jog and I remembered clearly at the uphill of Toh Tuck Rise I made a decision to register for SOT. Yea, people who are not from my church will think I really sot, I just got lifted my burdens of having 4 private tutees out of my full time job, and now am I really doing this to myself? To burden myself with SOT, full time job and attempting have a social life? I was also motivated to have my routine of working out every morning and even had plans to sign up something with Ling Hui at the gym. SOT is a commitment and yes, I have to wake up at 7 AM everyday for SOT at 8.45 AM and end work generally when the sky is dark. Ok la obviously I just yolo-ed and ‘took a leap of faith’, said goodbye to chill 2018 and registered for SOT!!! Through it all I know that God will carry me through and nothing is too hard for Him. Though at that moment I really can’t believe I’m doing this to myself.

I am not going write about what SOT is about, but I am going to pen my revelations. I did keep a dated record of things that spoke to me throughout my journey and I hope some of these will relate to some of you and serve as a reminder for me as the year closes. Hopefully the (long) introduction above gave you some sort of context as to who I am, and now I begin: Things that God told me.

1. It is not by my might that I am saved, or that God loves me. You can rely on Jesus to forgive you, but do not take it for granted. Cheap grace is not what we are looking for here. When God forgives, remember to learn something from it and avoid the mistake again.

2. Since 16, I recalled every moment that I prayed for something, gets it eventually and forget that it was God. Countless times with my knees bent worshipping God in SOT, I was reminded of how smooth my life has been. I remember when I was 18, I was praying to get into a local university because my results were not fantastic. I was scared. But look, I got accepted into my first choices for the 3 local unis. I remember when I was 21, I got into exchange programme without even meeting the critieria of cGPA 3.5 (lol). I remember when I was 22, I was so anxious after my paper because I felt I would fail the paper and that means I will retain and not graduate with my peers (Ely do you remember us drinking Tiger at ahlian? Haha). Look, I scored a D or something in the end but I graduated as planned.

3. I’ve disappointed God several times, I am in church but I feel like shit, you know. I have had bad days, where I feel freaking unworthy of God to love me and I want to run away. Having the revelation that God has not disappointed me a single time makes me more mindful how mighty He is, and how weak I am, and how much I needed to stop disappointing God. We cannot not sin, truth is, we all have. But we can make a decision everyday to rely on God. The authority to defeat Satan is in me. God loves me so much. So so so so sosoososososososoooooo much what is my next move?

The woman was left alone. Jesus stood up and spoke to her. “Woman, where are they? Does no one condemn you?” “No one, Master.” “Neither do I,” said Jesus. “Go on your way. From now on, don’t sin.” (John 8:9-11)

4. Learn to wait upon the Lord. Those who know me personally know I am a relatively fast paced person. I do not really like to wait or queue up for things and I speak super quickly.. I know Jeremiah 29:11 very well but I still plan things for myself anyway. Is this lack of faith/disbelief in God that I am experiencing? But I know God has a plan for me. You see, it gets very conflicting, for fear that my impatience will ‘spoil’ God’s good plans for me. As 2019 becomes less fast paced and I become older, may I calm my tits down and tarry in the Lord. It means to stay longer than expected and be patient in hope. Because for the record, God’s plans has always been good to me – when I see the big picture now for the uncertainties I felt in the past, everything makes sense. I need to truly believe that God will provide, God is truly the overseer of my life, God’s timing will come.

But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. (Matthew 6:33)

5. Be thankful to God and always be. If you are thankful, you will always find your way back to Jesus. Take thanksgiving to God more seriously, EVERYDAY. And I thank God that every night before I sleep I always have something to be thankful about up.

6. Right values and right spirit translates to right actions. I’ve learnt to set boundaries for my value system, not everything is okay, even if my free-spirited soul tells me “aiya yolo” countless times. Spirit wise, I need to talk to God more consistently. The Holy Spirit is something I learnt to engage more in SOT, and I need to remember to communicate with it more (considering how slack I was in the past and it has yet become a habit). I am a reflection of my own routine.

7. To not find ways to see how close I can go without stepping over the line. Instead, think how far I can be from that line. This was mentioned during one of Pastor Ed’s session, struck a chord in me since then. People like me, free-spirited, come-what-may kind of personality, running away from things I deem as fun (but not exactly morally upright) is hard. I crave excitement and adventure. I need to learn, not everything that makes me happy is beneficial for me. I am responsible for my own freedom. Deliberate habitual sinning makes us okay to cross this line and it’s scary. I forget that it is actually not pleasing to God, I forget that it will hurt me, because I’ve gotten used to it, I’ve gotten immune to it. I do not feel bad anymore. And that itself, is toxic.

8. Repentance, I need to repent from things in my life. Inward change + outward action = repentance. I feel constantly that I’m doing both half-heartedly. It’s hard to truly 100% repent if I continue this way. Deal with the heart problem.

9. Life is worth living for the Lord. Quit thinking that life without acknowledging is my Saviour is better. I used to have thoughts that life would be better without being a Christian – I don’t have to feel shitty about having done something bad, I can sleep till super late on a Sunday, look my friends who are unchurched are living alright too… I envy them sometimes. Then I realised I need to be secured in my identity in Christ. I am a child of God, and knowing Jesus should be one of the best decisions of my life. Yes, people who do not know God can lead a good life too. But I should not think that knowing God has compromised my happiness and freedom in life. God gave us free-will and there is freedom in Him. Quitting Jesus will likely mean I am not returning.

You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh ; rather, serve one another humbly in love. (Galatians 5:13)

10. If we think closely about most of the things in our lives, there must be an exchange. I gave the auntie my 3 dollars in exchange for a plate of chicken rice this afternoon. The handicapped uncle busked in the streets in hope that someone could give him some money in exchange for his time. Jesus died in exchange for the forgiveness of our sins. I cannot keep taking for granted that I will go to heaven if I keep doing things not according to the will of God; I need to exchange something. Is it my lack of discipline, is it a person, is it a hobby? Surrender.

11. My life should not be a paradox. Make my words precious. From my heart, motives and mind, I need to understand why things cannot be done. Does my verbal profession translate to moral obedience? My life is the most powerful message for people. No one has seen Jesus but they have seen me. Live my life for Christ. Be mindful of what I speak about, don’t say or do things I don’t mean. Treat people genuinely. I should learn to not just receive God’s love, learn to give God some love too by loving His people. He deserves it. When people say my name, what do they say about?

Don’t fool yourself into thinking that you are a listener when you are anything but, letting the Word go in one ear and out the other. Act on what you hear! Those who hear and don’t act are like those who glance in the mirror, walk away, and two minutes later have no idea who they are, what they look like. But whoever catches a glimpse of the revealed counsel of God—the free life!—even out of the corner of his eye, and sticks with it, is no distracted scatterbrain but a man or woman of action. That person will ﬁnd delight and afﬁrmation in the action. (James 1:22-25)

12. I can live at my own level of faith. I always categorise my friends as upz and never felt equivalent to them. You see, I don’t speak or edify people so much, I don’t lead people, I speak whatever comes my mind (#uncensored) and I am not a standard example of a holy person. Then I talked to some people I deemed as upz and I realised we are all human beings with real temptations and fears; whatever I face they face too, just differently but we have inadequencies. Maybe I’m just more vocal about these things, but everyone’s fighting their own battles even if they looked perfect on the exterior. I learnt that God did not create robots, but created us in His image… and we can be comfortable with who we are. I do not need to be whoever for God to love me more, God is happy with who I am, as long as I live my life with integrity, offline and online, real life or secret life. I can just stay rooted in Him based on my own pace. God isn’t impressed by human strength. If I want real and divine strength and power, first I have to be weak by the standards of this world. When I’m weak by the standards by the world, then I can get the grace to become strong in God. I need God.

For I say, through the grace given to me, to everyone who is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think soberly, as God has dealt to each one a measure of faith. (Romans 12:3)

13. Leadership is not about title, leadership is about influence. Note to self about my life as a teacher or colleague or friend. I want to influence positively, I want to be someone who honours my word, that what I believe in is in sync with how I act out and live out.

14. God does not waste every experience I face in my life. No one knows the full shit I’ve experienced, the real training that I’ve been through but when the situation calls for it, I can be useful to people around me. Don’t come out of experiences empty-handed, instead bring treasures of darkness.

15. Read the Bible more, spend time with the Holy Spirit more, pray more. I was forced (ok, at the last feel moments of SOT I was truly forced due to time constraints) to complete the Bible and I realised how much wisdom the Bible has and how little I’ve read it through my years. Contradicting isn’t it? I fail to read the sole thing that was given to me to know God better. As I said earlier, my relationship with God is based on experience – experiencing His love. What if one day I stopped experiencing God’s love during sessions, will I still follow Jesus? The word is indeed important, in times of need I can become a blessing. I beat myself up for the fact that I lost time in my years as a Christian not reading the Bible as much as I should have, but may 2019 be a year where I find time on my own to look deeper into His word and know His word.

Preach the word! Be ready in season and out of season. Convince, rebuke, exhort, with all longsuffering and teaching. (II Timothy 4:2 NKJV)

Pray until inadequacy leaves me. Pray until my prayer is answered. Pray until my burden is lifted. Be close to the Holy Spirit and ensure that when God knocks at my door, I am available and present to answer it. My thought pattern is developed through years and I need to undo this thought pattern by the Holy Spirit, prayers and word of God.

But you, when you pray, go into your room, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in the secret place; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly. (Matthew 6:6)

16. Make decisions when you are not emotionally unstable. Decisions is rooted in your character. Learn to stop acting on impulse. Learn to say no at times. Align my decisions with the will of God.

17. Whatever I focus on grows. Become wiser this year about the people, the finances, the health, the things i spend my time on...

Get wisdom—it’s worth more than money; choose insight over income every time. (Proverbs 16:16)

18. God loves me so much… through SOT, I am certain of the love of God. Now remember this and know that nothing I do or not do can make God love me lesser or more.

19. I can decide what comes into my heart. Let what is worth it come into your heart.

Keep vigilant watch over your heart; that’s where life starts. (Proverbs 4:23 – 27)

20. Be secure in myself, no need to strive to prove myself. If I’m good people can see.

21. If God speaks, will I be willing to listen?

Sooooo, is SOT necessary? To be honest, no. I was so tired at that time, thankful that my dad was able to send me to work straight after SOT at 1 PM. I had no time for myself at all, there was something to do that I cannot cancel everyday. SOT was more of a routine that I learnt to follow, a controlled environment for me to know God more. I had to praise and worship every morning, pray with my peers, read the Bible, complete assignments to graduate. It gave my life some sort of order because everyday I am put in an atmosphere that allows me to meet God. However life after SOT is what really mattered the most. Certainly I got distracted and travelling a lot during my holiday did not help. However, the experiences and revelations in SOT, those are things that cannot be taken away from me... that I just need to regularly be reinforced in my head and heart. My biggest takeaway for me is that nothing will make me leave God and nothing will make God leave me.

May life after this see me becoming more matured, where I have self-realisation as to what is good and bad for me, having a mature love for God that knows no fear because I’m fully convinced that God loves me sooooo super much. Live life with integrity!

This is by no means a 2019 New Year Resolution post because I don’t want that shit anymore (typing this on 31 Dec simply ‘cuz yo girl kept forgetting to do it since 30 Sep after graduation). I’m sure I am bound to make mistakes and bound to screw up and get lost again in my life time but I just want to live my life to my best. Life never really turn out the way it is planned – some parts better than you planned, some parts worse than you planned. A general word for 2019 though, Gr. Apokaradokia: To wait with expectation with head raised and eyes ﬁxed over the horizon –

+ Apo: Means to turn away with concentration. Ignoring other interests.

+ Kara: Means head.

+ Dokia: Means to stretch forward.

Two of my favourite verses throughout my SOT times and have a blessed year ahead.

But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women. It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love, And don’t take yourself too seriously— take God seriously. (Micah 6:8 MSG)

God , your God, has blessed you in everything you have done. He has guarded you in your travels through this immense wilderness. For forty years now, God , your God, has been right here with you. You haven’t lacked one thing. (Deuteronomy 2:7 MSG)

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hoyoungy · 7 years ago

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blocked.zip | soonyoung (i)

genre: comedy, “fbi agent” au | fbi agent!soonyoung x reader summary: you’ve gotten away with downloading a lot of copyrighted content in the past, but now the fbi agent assigned to you has had enough of it word count: 1738 a/n: you know that fbi agent joke thing going around? i thought it was funny and soonyoung’s funny so i mean it fits. this is a word vomit. warnings include swearing

part ii

“Ugh,” you groaned as you tried to ‘legally’ download a youtube file as a .mp3 format for the third time. Each time you tried, the unusually usual mysterious and invisible window would pop up on the screen for a second and disappear the next, with you stuck on the same website and the file failing to download.

“Can’t you just buy the song?” your roommate asked as she sat across from you at the dining table.

“And throw away like, $2.00? No, thanks.”

“Pirating files is super dangerous these days! Haven’t you seen the news? There are like, FBI agents that are watching you through your webcam. Or-or how your phone and Google can detect your voice, hear what you’re saying while you’re just having a casual conversation, and show you ads that are similar? Watch, let’s test it out,” she said, clearing her throat. “Oh, no! Looks like we ran out of coffee. I really wish we had some coffee right now! I love light roast and blond coffee blends -”

“Shut up, you really believe in that stuff?” you scoffed as you properly categorized your newly downloaded song file in your library.

“Of course I do! Didn’t you see that one video where that girl bought a laptop online and the camera was always on, but she ignored it and went about her day, but a couple of months later, some creep broke into her house and murdered her!?”

“Well, yeah, that was scary… but I taped over the webcam! That has nothing to do with me trying to enjoy my favorite band’s music for free. Appreciating art shouldn’t cost so much money. And besides, this isn’t some post-Y2K paranoia era anymore. Remember when we were so scared as kids when we pirated songs off of Limewire? The FBI has become way more lenient these days ~”

“Whatever you say, _____, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when some weirdo American gets access to your webcam and watches you changing ~”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you muttered. “Ok, on to their next album…”

“Soonyoung, what the hell!” Jihoon scolded him in his office. A slumped and embarrassed Soonyoung sat in front of Jihoon’s desk as he listened to yet another lecture about not keeping a close eye on your internet activity. But it wasn’t his fault you bent the law so often! “Are you not paying attention to your person again? How many times do I have to tell you to not watch Naruto on the second monitor!?”

“I’m not, I swear! And I am paying attention to her! She’s downloaded like, five albums of different artists in the past twelve hours, how am I supposed to keep up with that!?”

“That’s what the ads are for!”

“I’ve tried, Jihoon! She has an ad-blocker for the ad-blocker! She always finds a way to stop me! You know how there isn’t a cure for the common cold because it adapts and evolves so often? She’s exactly like that!”

“Try harder. You’re a FBI agent, for Christ’s sake. You have access to basically their entire internet history and activity! There’s always a way around it, trust me. Start by sending her a threatening message, or something, to slow down the downloading.”

“Just message them? Can we do that…?”

“Of course we can. It’s just like an email. Just be like, ‘hey, we’ve noticed some suspicious activity on your laptop, please refrain from blah blah blah,’ and that’s it.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Just say you’re in the FBI or something, that usually scares them.”

“I mean, I am in the FBI…”

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem. Hurry and watch her activity before she pirates all of Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo. Your report says that was her latest search.”

“Fuck,” Soonyoung cursed before running out of Jihoon’s office.

When he got back to his desk, it was already too late. On the screen that monitored your internet activity on your laptop, the screen showed that you were already in the middle of downloading episode three.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Soonyoung practically keyboard-smashed a bunch of codes onto the screen that paused your downloading process.

“What the hell!” he heard you screech into his headset. “Are you kidding me!?”

“Now’s my chance.”

On the other side of the screen, you quit your browser and tried to redownload the third episode for the third time, but the download kept failing. That was it, you were going to take your laptop to a Genius bar, or something -

“You have (1) Unread Message,” your laptop chimed.

With hesitation, you opened the suspiciously red message. “Hello, _____,” you muttered aloud. “We have noticed some suspicious activity on your computer. Remember to please refrain from downloading any copyrighted… blah blah blah… Oh shit, hey, take a look at this!” you called your roommate.

“What’s up?”

“The FBI’s watching me!” you snorted.

“Why is she laughing!?” Soonyoung asked his lonely cubicle.

“Why are you laughing!? Oh, my God, see I told you this was going to happen! Look at what you did, now I bet they’ve hacked into my laptop, too! We are so screwed! We’re going to get arrested!” your roommate panicked. “I bet they’re listening to us right now! _____, shut down your laptop - no, burn it -”

“Relax, will you! It’s just a prank, or something! Or another pop-up ad!”

“I’ll show you a pop-up ad…” Soonyoung scoffed. On his end, he coded another message onto your laptop screen. He was probably getting a little carried away with a second message, but clearly you weren’t listening, and Jihoon did tell him to get more serious with this job. He’s not hurting anyone, anyways.

The next message popped up on your laptop screen for you and your roommate to see.

“‘This isn’t a prank’…” your roommate whispered. “This isn’t a prank… This isn’t a prank! Oh, shit, they really are listening to us!”

“No fucking way,” you cursed. “Ok, Mr. FBI agent, if this isn’t a prank, then… what’s our Wifi network?”

“‘PrettyFlyforAWiFi.’ Holy shit, this is real, this is happening right now,” your roommate panicked.

“Shut up! What was my most recent search?”

After scrolling through your history for several minutes, Soonyoung replied with, ‘How to clean wine stains.’

“Do you know our cat’s name…?”

‘Truffle.’

“Holy shit.” You began to laugh quite hysterically, still unable to believe that you had a real FBI agent assigned to you and was currently chatting it up with you and your terrified roommate. Your mind began to flash back to all the embarrassing and, um, not so appropriate searches you’ve done in the past. Everything you’ve ever searched, downloaded, basically have seen on the internet, this person has seen you do it.

“Burn it,” your roommate threatened. “Or I’m gonna do it.”

“No, I can’t afford another laptop right now! Besides, I bet you have an FBI agent assigned to you, too.”

“Yeah, but at least I won’t go to jail for downloading illegal content.”

“That’s true…”

“You won’t go to jail, dumbass.”

Both you and your roommate stopped moving when your laptop began to speak. Now this was really starting to get scary.

On Soonyoung’s end, who was tired of typing out all of his proof and explainations that have been ignored as you and roommate bickered, he decided to finally turn on his microphone on his headset and do the absolute unspeakable - talk to his assigned citizen. Soonyoung was already in deep shit with Jihoon and the entire agency anyways, so he might as well dig deeper.

“You won’t go to jail now, but if you keep downloading and torrenting so much stuff, you will.”

“It’s a boy,” you stated. “My FBI agent’s a dude. Ok, that, in some form or another, has to be illegal, too, like that’s just not safe or fair!”

“Life isn’t safe or fair.”

“Are you my mother now? My FBI agent mother?”

“I can’t believe you’re arguing with your laptop,” your roommate said as she walked away from you. “Don’t bring that thing near me until you figure out your legal problems!”

You sighed dramatically so that Soonyoung could hear you from the other side. It was just the two of you now, face to face - sort of - waiting for the other person to break the ice.

“So I’m not going to jail, right?”

“No, but I’m assigned to watch over your internet activity still. If your excessive illegal downloading continues, I’ll have to have you arrested.”

“Then how long until I’m in the clear?”

“Either until you get a new laptop and a new agent assigned to you or as long as I deem necessary.”

“So we’re basically stuck with each other, huh?” you asked.

“Unfortunately.”

“Cool… Well, since we’ll be working together for quite some time, I’ll intoduce myself first. Hi, my name is _____.”

“I know.”

“… Of course you do,” you dead panned. “And you are…?”

“Soonyoung.”

“What a nice name for a scary FBI agent man. Do you know what I look like…?”

“I can only see you when you turn on your webcam.”

“That’s so weird!” You felt the strong shivers creep up your spine at the thought of some strange man looking at you while you webcammed with your friends or classmates. The corners of Soonyoung’s lips twitched slightly at your strange, scared noises. “Please tell me you’re not some old man with a tub of lotion by your desk.”

“We’re the same age.”

“Damn, you know my birthday, too! But somehow knowing we’re the same age makes this all less creepy.”

“That’s… good?”

“I’m not too sure, either. Now that we got formalities out of the way, I’m going to continue downloading this episode if that’s ok with you.”

“What!?” Soonyoung screeched into his mic. “No, that’s not ok! I just told you that you could get arrested!”

“Yeah, but you seem cool!”

“There are dozens of free streaming websites for that show, why do you have to download each episode!?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Oh, my God,” Soonyoung sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose harshly.

You were going to have a lot of fun messing with Soonyoung.

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