#Final DOOM REPACK

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 18/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774 

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

“Fucking hell!” Ben yelled as his coffee mug shattered against the bedroom wall.

Rey had left the premises. Yesterday he’d had her, in every sense of the word, and this morning she had turned on him. He had been this close—this fucking close—to getting her to trust him for good.

To getting into her panties you mean, snarked his subconscious, cause that would turn out so well.

Yeah, well so what? We’re both consenting adults here. What’s wrong with a little pleasure now and then?

It was Syed who sounded the alarm.  As reckless and undisciplined as she was, she was still his best Knight of Ren. He would hate to fire her, even though he would not hesitate to do it, if necessary.

She had called him at three in the morning to inform him that Rey Jakku had repacked her car and left the parking lot;  hitting the road again in record time.

Syed had followed yet again, evidently taking her assignment seriously. At least he would always know where his mystery girl was hiding.

On the other hand, he had just lost one of his guitarists for the concert this evening, which annoyed him more than he wanted to admit. But the advantage of having seven band members was that they could afford to run a few errands and still keep the show running.

Hayat and Neil, his two-person light and sound crew, would roll up in their van any minute now to set up the venue. The entire  day would be devoted to equipment tests and a rapid dress-rehearsal of the set list, a task even more essential in the absence of Syed.  Ben would have preferred to take his car and follow Rey, join her, tell her he was sorry—or whatever it would take to convince her to come back—and resume exactly where they had left off the day before.

She’d talked about following them on tour.  Would she follow through?

His phone rang, the screen displaying a stern visage with a severely parted red combover.

Hux.

"Ren.” He uttered curtly, putting the phone up to his ear.

“Hello, Kylo. How are your holidays going?”

“Even on vacation I'm more efficient than you’ll ever be in the office. Let’s just say it’s going well.”

“Where are you?”

“We’re rehearsing for tonight's concert, the weather is nice and the hot tub is fantastic.” Ben replied with a smirk, knowing full well that Armitage Hux detested distractions.

The latter gave an exasperated sigh, as expected.  "For fuck’s sake, I��m not the Yellowstone Tourism Office—I'm talking about your mission!”

“And what, exactly, do you want to know about my mission?”

“What are you doing and with whom? Did you get information on what Earth Soldiers is planning?”

"Are you saying you and Snoke are floundering?” Ben laughed.  “Don’t you have an army of spies, and twice as many lawyers? How is my mother managing to outmaneuver you?”

"When I'm done with your mother, you'll have to pick her out of the gutter, Ren.”

"You’re all talk," Ben chuckled. “I feel like she’s playing with your head.”

There was a long silence filled only by Hux’s agitated breathing. His final response was venomous.”Exactly which side are you on? You seem to enjoy our setbacks a little too much.”

“I’m on my side,” he responded, “and I answer to Snoke and Snoke alone. Pay attention to your own mission and leave me to mine.”

He hung up without waiting for an answer.  He knew what Hux was looking for: he wanted to know everything about Earth Soldiers' latest spy, Rey Jakku.  But Ben would not give him anything of such importance. Rey was his mission, his target, his prize.  Phasma had missed her chance.  Too bad for her—From now on, Rey was his.  And soon enough, she would be his in every sense of the word.

His phone vibrated again with a new call. This time, Ben's smile dissipated. It was Snoke.

“Sir?”

“Kylo Ren.  I was waiting for a report from you this morning. Have I missed it by mistake? Because I don’t make mistakes.”

“No sir.  I —I didn’t send one.”

“And you will send it to me at the end of this call, I suppose?”

“No sir.”

“Explain yourself.”

Snoke’s barely audible voice had lost its saccharine undertones. Ben inhaled deeply before uttering his next words.

“The—the girl escaped me. But I’m tracking her as we speak, I know exactly where she is and what she’s doing.”

“What exactly is your strategy, Kylo Ren?  Follow her like a good little pet and contentedly snap up whatever pieces of information she deigns to give you?”

“No, I—I’m in control of the situation, sir.” Ben stammered, taken aback. “I will soon extract the information we need from her.”

Snoke had really gone for the kill. His strategy, which had been flawless as far as his argument with Hux was concerned, suddenly seemed doomed to fail.

Snoke continued: "Stop beating around the bush, Kylo Ren. Find her. Demand answers. Make it so. I want to know what she's scheming, her connection to Earth Soldiers, and especially whatever it is she has with Leia Skywalker.”

Ben Solo shuddered at hearing his mother's name laced with so much hatred. She hadn’t always been a good mother; she had rarely listened, and she had been far too absent. But she remained his mother, and she largely paid the price for his indiscretions, condemned to die of old age in solitude under her prefabricated tin roof. He clenched his fist and took another breath.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.  Oh, and Kylo Ren?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Stop blundering about like a teenage boy. She's the one manipulating you here. Enough games; I demand results.”

Ben frowned. Blundering? He hadn’t let anything slip, he was sure.  He feigned ignorance:

“I fail to see what you're talking about, sir.  I have the situation under control.”

"Don’t you dare lie to me, Kylo Ren. Do not forget what you owe me.”

“I won’t forget, sir.”

“Good.  I'll call you back soon.”

And with that, he hung up.

Seconds later, he received a series of text messages from Snoke’s personal number. He selected the first, puzzled.

His heart skipped a beat.

It was a picture of him and Rey from the day before, passionately making out against a wall at the bar. His right hand disappeared under her dress and hers was visibly splayed against his fly.

There’s your blunder, Solo. How did Snoke find them?  Who took these pictures?

Behind the wheel of her SUV, Syed drained a can of Red Bull and crushed the empty aluminium vessel between her fingers.  She had hardly slept thanks to this wild goose chase of a mission. Just yesterday she had found herself forced to trudge through a six mile hike (off the main trail too, so as not to alert Jane Doe or her dog)  after which she had to use her gun to chase off a bear...how was one girl able to cause her so much fatigue?  

And it was a fucking bear, no less. It had taken all her concentration, all her will, to just aim close enough to hurt the bear to make it run away without a fatal injury—even as an assassin in the service of a nebulous multinational conglomerate, she was unwilling to kill a bear for no reason. Or kill the girl. At least by accident.

Definitely by accident.

It would have been so easy. An isolated bullet, fired from her vantage point atop the rocks, and the corpse would have been found three days later.

No more spy hunting, no more love triangles. Kylo would mourn for a few days of course, frustrated at not being able to add her to the notches on his bedpost, but she would console him instead, and everything would be back to normal.

Who was she kidding?  Kylo would have immediately understood, and he would have killed her.  Maybe literally, even.  He would have resorted to making her life hell, or putting an end to it. He wouldn’t even need to get his hands dirty. An order to Shakti, or Skylar, and Syed would have had no chance. It would be impossible to face six knights alone.

"Patience," she repeated to herself.  "The time will come, the girl will step out of his life, and everything will go back to normal. And you, you will shine in your devotion, he will respect even more, and he will come back to you.”

She had been surprised to see Rey tear herself away from Kylo's embrace the night before. As it were, she had expected her to fuck him on the spot.

But no, something had happened, Rey had adjusted her dress before striding off. Did Kylo say something stupid?  That would be typical of him...all his bravado was a front.

Rey had returned to her car, and Syed had thought she was about to lose her mark. By the time she found her own vehicle, she had no idea what direction the Falcon had taken.

But she managed to find it at a campsite fifteen minutes later. Rey was huddled in a sweatshirt while crying her eyes out over the phone. Syed could only hear bits and pieces, but she was able to glean that Rey was calling contacts in England: her mother, a girlfriend, and a guy named Poe.  Nothing of grand importance to FORCE, and not in connection with Earth Soldiers.

She was either the best spy Syed had ever encountered, or the most incompetent person in history. Perhaps this Rey debacle was a red herring, a little fantasy whipped up by the cunning Leia Skywalker. She knew FORCE hated the Millennium Falcon, the unofficial mascot of their resistance crew. It was genius, really. Put a no-name extra in there and have her drive aimlessly across the country. All the while FORCE mobilized an army of agents to track her, and Ren’s team spent precious time investigating a trap. Time that Skywalker spent plotting with her counsel. It was just a diversion.

Brilliant.

Nevertheless, there was only one way to find out for sure, and for that she had to keep spying on the girl, hour by hour.

Said girl refused to sleep, opting instead to take the road north. Access to Yellowstone was closed at night, so Rey had stopped at a nearby gas station to refuel, buy a coffee and a cold-cut sandwich, and take a nap in the back of her car.

She entered Yellowstone National Park at 9:30 AM, through the south gate. Syed followed, finding herself inching through the morning line, a few vehicles away. She cradled her face in her hands.

Yellowstone, really? Did Rey intend to engage in actual tourism?!

And why not?  Rey was tired.  Tired of having slept too little, tired of being alone, tired of having no one to talk to.  As she drove through the national park in the direction of the Tourist Information Center and the infamous Old Faithful geyser, she wondered what she was fleeing, who she was fleeing.

Her mind kept coming back to Ben Solo.  To his mouth, to his hands, to the outline of his body that she had been able to trace under his clothes. Why then was she running away?  Finn had left her, after all;  how long should she grieve what she had before?

She had admitted to Jessika yesterday how she had clung to Ben like a life raft against the tide of her own loneliness. But it had been too fast, too intense. She seemed to panic at the thought of having to let him go one day. It was the sinking sort of anxiety that had clung to her bones since childhood, the fear of being unloved, never good enough for her absentee parents who worked such long hours that they barely had time for her. It had been the same with Finn, she clung to him so desperately that she never saw the signs, however obvious they appeared in hindsight.

And eventually, Finn had rejected her too.  Then she had left, alone, as if to prove to herself that she was capable of it; and had thrown herself—with an almost laughable sense of relief— into the arms of the next man she encountered.

Ben Solo seen through her very soul when he observed, aloud, that she feared loneliness. Was she so easy to read?

BB8 squeaked her toy and Rey smiled.  She was never truly alone. She was the guardian of this adorable fur ball, and she was going to bring her back to her master, wherever he was hiding. It was simple: take care of the dog, bring her home. That she could do. At least then she was of use to someone.

On the passenger seat, her phone vibrated. Rey reached out and grabbed it without letting go of the steering wheel. A new text appeared on her lock screen.

It was Ben.

Sorry for last night, I hope he gets better and I hope you’re feeling better too. Will you make the concert tonight? Call me.

⁃Kylo

She made a face, he really had to sign it as Kylo.

What a bloody ridiculous stage name.

Rey had the feeling she was witnessing a veritable identity crisis: On one hand there was Ben Solo, the sentimental stranger who commiserated in her loneliness and wanted to befriend her dog. On the other there was Kylo Ren, the arrogant, leather clad rockstar who would kiss and tell, with absolutely no strings attached.

Who was she out with last night?

Which one of them did she kiss?

She wouldn’t go to the concert she decided, she didn’t feel like answering him either. But she knew his next show was going to be at West Yellowstone in two days.

In the meantime, she would have plenty of time to ruminate.

[midnightgazingthoughts-blog]

Long Distance

As the days pass by, getting closer to when I see you again, everything seems to shift. My depression like state turns into excitement and everything becomes more exciting. From walking to my car to cleaning my bathroom everything starts slowing regaining color again with the fact that you will soon be with me. 3 days. I have either already cleaned my room, preparing for you to come out to Indiana PA or I have packed, unpacked and repacked my clothing, mentally preparing for the five hour trip to my hometown. I will see you for maybe 2-3 days, but any second that I am with you is better than being 277 miles apart. 2 days. It's getting closer. I have started to count down the hours. But even though people say that the days are passing quickly, everything seems longer and every moment seems to drag by, as if Father Time himself is pulling the hands of the clock backward to extend this dreadful time apart. But that is fine. Because Father Time cannot keep us apart for much longer. 1 day. I wait excitedly for sleep to come. One more sleep and we will be together. I wear your t-shirt to bed for the last time, your scent barely there anymore. You gave me enough shirts to get me Through these days but they never seem to be quite enough to fill your void. I treat them like little gems, being careful to only wear them when I sleep because that is when I miss you the most. Why? Because while my dreams are riddled with images and hopes of you, when I am jolted awake by my alarm, I cannot help but turn over and sigh, because you are still not there. 12 hours. The world finally picks up speed. Classes fly, and everything starts going right again. All of my bad luck changes and everything goes smoothly. You are so close I can almost smell it, almost feel your embrace or the touch of your lips against mine. It's time. When you arrive, it is nothing like they portray in movies. It's better. We quickly fall into a routine of laughter and smiles. No moment is too brief to give or receive a peck, no situation too serious to crack a joke, and no second is lonely anymore because we are back together. But just as everything gets good again, the world shifts back. The impending doom of either one of us having to leave settles over us at some point. Our laughs get more quiet. Our gazes get lowered and more intent. The looks in our eyes go from being engulfed in joy to being drenched in sadness. Leaving is always the hardest part. The fear that every hug or kiss being the last one for weeks strikes the heart, causing small pieces to fall each time. One more hug. One more kiss. One more time to tell you I love you. One more time I can lace my fingers through yours. We both know it's not forever, but it doesn't make the pain any less. As you pull away in your car, there is one final blow that leaves my heart in molecular pieces. I see the sadness in your eyes, reflecting my own. Your car becomes smaller and the countdown starts again.

[dragon-quest-xi-pc-blog]

Dragon Quest XI Echoes Of An Elusive Age PC Cracked Download Free

- Full Game: Download

- Skidrow Crack: Download

- CPY Crack: Download

- SteamPunks Crack: Download

- VOKSI Crack: Download

- CODEX Crack: Download

- Repack: Download

About This Game

Overview

DRAGON QUEST® XI: Echoes of an Elusive Age™ tells a captivating tale of a hunted hero and is the long-awaited role-playing game from series creator Yuji Horii, character designer Akira Toriyama and composer Koichi Sugiyama. While it is the eleventh mainline entry in the critically acclaimed series, DRAGON QUEST XI is a completely standalone experience that features entirely new characters, a beautifully detailed world, finely tuned turn-based combat, and an immersive story that will appeal to longtime fans and franchise newcomers alike.  After its release in Japan, DRAGON QUEST XI won multiple gaming awards and received critical praise, including PlayStation’s Platinum Prize and a perfect 40/40 score from Famitsu (an influential video game publication in Japan).

Story

A young man, about to participate in his village’s coming of age ceremony, travels to a Sacred Stone alongside his childhood friend. After a series of unexpected events, this intrepid adventurer learns he is the reincarnation of a legendary hero from a forgotten age.

The young hero sets forth into an unknown world on a journey to unravel the mystery of his past… but the welcome he receives is far from warm. Upon revealing his identity to the King, the hero is branded as “The Darkspawn” and hunted by a relentless army.

Fleeing from his pursuers, the hero assembles a band of endearing adventurers who believe he is actually The Luminary reborn. The hero and his newfound companions embark on a quest that will take them across continents and over vast oceans as they learn of an ominous threat facing the world.

KEY FEATURES

Unravel an Epic Mystery in a Riveting Tale – DRAGON QUEST XI tells the tale of a hunted hero: denigrated as a demon and pursued by a malicious monarch, you must embark on a quest to unravel the mystery of your fate and save a doomed world. At the heart of the game is an immersive story with twists and turns that pull you in and keep you craving more – from the opening cutscene to the final credits!

Assemble a Colorful Cast of Loyal Companions – Accompanying the hero on his quest is an endearing band of adventurers with their own rich backstories and personalities as diverse as their designs. Once again, famed manga artist Akira Toriyama brings the characters of DRAGON QUEST to life with his delightful, one-of-a-kind style.

Explore a Beautiful, Living World – DRAGON QUEST XI brings a massive, gorgeous world to life in a style that blends stylistic cel-shading with photorealistic detail. Excitement lurks around every corner as players explore populous cities, quaint villages, magnificent castles, and dark dungeons. NPC’s attend to their daily schedules, monsters change behaviors to fit their environments, and players can access new areas with the use of monstrous vehicles.

Engage in Classic Battles with a Modern Twist – DRAGON QUEST XI’s turn-based battle system eases players into combat with an accessible experience that features mechanics simple enough for the novice but with enough depth to satisfy hardcore fans.

Have Some Fun & Save the World – In addition to its captivating narrative, DRAGON QUEST XI features tons of side-quests and addicting mini-games that provide enough content to keep you playing for well over 100 hours. You will face insurmountable odds and an evil force of unimaginable power… but while the stakes are high, there are many fun distractions to find if you know where to look.

System Requirements

OS: Windows 7 SP1/ Windows 8.1 / Windows 10 64-bit

Processor: Intel Core i3-2105 / AMD A10-5800K

Memory: 8 GB RAM

Graphics: NVIDIA GeForce GTX 750Ti / AMD Radeon RX 470

DirectX: Version 11

Storage: 32 GB available space

Additional Notes: 720p 30fps

OS: Windows 7 SP1/ Windows 8.1 / Windows 10 64-bit

Processor: Intel Core i5-6600 / AMD Ryzen 7 1800X

Memory: 8 GB RAM

Graphics: NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1060 / AMD Radeon RX Vega 56

DirectX: Version 11

Storage: 32 GB available space

Additional Notes: 1080p 60fps

[wolfisakionwheels]

Day 43 | Random hotel - I have no idea  | Anaheim CA

And no, this wasn’t a planned stop along Tour Wolfisaki, less than an hour away from my best girl’s house, where I ought to be right now, sitting cross-legged on her couch, our second glass of wine perched on our knees, quietly laughing so hard that we shake because it’s late and we’re trying not to wake up our kids. 

Not holed up in some two-bit hotel across the street from Disneyland, with zero plans of actually going to Disneyland, I know, I know, NO DISNEYLAND?  

The littlest Wolfisaki is using the hotel bedspread as a landing zone for his turkey sandwich in between taking bites and conducting his important toddler business - currently pulling all of the towels off the bathroom racks and throwing them on the floor.

And the six year old is on unlimited, unsupervised screen time because he knows how to take advantage of a powerless situation. 

And husband is texting me tipsy anecdotes from the hotel bar because he needed to let off some steam.

I mean, we all knew there was never going to be a way through this where something didn’t go terribly wrong, right? 

See when you have A.D.D. and sustain a bit of an anxiety disorder because of it, and you have a sweet, loving, extremely laid-back husband who doesn’t have a linear thought to save his life, and, together, you make the decision to pull your kid out of school, rent your little Portland bungalow on Airbnb to all sorts of strangers for an undisclosed amount of time, trade in your trusty Portland-issued Subaru for an old van and a tent trailer that you are entirely unfamiliar with, and then pack up your family and leave with very little planning, and no real researching, and you’ve only strung together a vague idea of how you assume things will go, well, you might have this constant lurking thought stuck in all the creases and corners of your brain: What Will Be The Thing That Goes Terribly Wrong?

And then, finally, when that terrible thing does, in fact, go wrong, it almost comes with a sense of relief, like, oh phew… Now I can finally stop worrying about the impending doom. 

A few months shy of her 87th birthday, my Meema had been lying in bed at her in-home care facility for a few days, in and out of consciousness, the room filled to capacity with her family, before she passed away peacefully in her sleep with the afternoon sun pouring in through her bedroom window on an otherwise perfect June afternoon. I was sitting at her right side at the time, holding her soft, small hand, and a few moments after she took her final rattled breath there came with it a sudden unexpected lightness in the air of the room. 

Later, we all sat together in the living room just outside her door waiting for the coroner to arrive. The Terrible Thing had happened, and after years of watching her slowly fade while dreading this very day, we settled into a quiet state of peace within the melancholy of it all. Now our Meema was free, and now we were free to grieve the great loss of her. 

Maybe we were getting cocky in thinking we were this close to making it back home unscathed, after all, it’s been a month and a half of living within four canvas walls and using the wild west as our backyard. And then, dun dun dunnnn, within an eagle eye view of our next stop, when we couldn’t take the racket in the backseat by the two travel weary little boys anymore, we made a fateful detour to the nearest playground to blow off some steam. 

Had we not pulled over to let the boys out to play, there’s no telling how it would’ve all turned out, but we’ve since been told it certainly would have involved fire spewing from our vehicle, and the wheels exploding from the Bacon Hut directly into LA traffic, and we likely would not have come out of it unscathed.

As soon as we pulled into the playground parking lot and I opened the passenger door, the smell of electrical smoke stopped me dead in my tracks. Oh crap, that doesn’t smell right, I thought, before immediately passing the buck on over to my denial-in-waiting... Always waiting... Sucks for whoever that smell belongs to, then, noticing the thick toxic plume and black gooey substance bubbling out of our wheel wells it occurred to me in that moment that this might have something to do with why everyone was honking and waving their arms furiously at us while passing by. We’d flashed them an oblivious peace sign, or rested our temples on our fingertips in our best nondescript efforts to ignore them, casually assuming California drivers just being California drivers, no harm no foul. 

Six and a half years ago I was in the hospital, over 21 hours into labor with my first baby and only half a centimeter dilated. The doctor on call walked in and checked me and told me very matter of factly that it’s apparent I have the same condition which caused women to die in childbirth a hundred years ago. Before he even had to say the words, I was already mentally putting myself through an emergency C-section. Thanks to countless episodes of TLC’s A Baby Story, I could paint the scene perfectly; the sterile surgical room with rows of bright lights hanging above us, sweaty strands of hair escaping my medical bonnet, trying to stay strong for P-noch with his quivering hands clutching onto mine which are strapped down to a board at my sides. 

Sometimes when I look up to catch sight of the boys after a distracted moment at the park and for a single brief zip in time I can’t see them, my heart begins to race, my mouth tenses and goes white around the edges, my eyes bulging and unblinking as I frantically start power-walking through the playground where I will then spot them in two more long and terrifying seconds. Yet in that lapse of time my mind will have already painted me into this horrific post-abduction future, a scene where I’m weeping in agony and dizzy on psychosis meds, struggling to make sense of our new nightmarish life minus one of our children. 

I think, maybe, perhaps, my personal brand of crisis mode is to imagine the worst possible outcome and begin working backwards from there. A foolhardy attempt to one-up an unnerving situation by trying to control it, no doubt. Which is probably why my first item of business was to instantly pick a fight with P-noch about whose fault this is. Second then discovering that nobody will come out and collect a smoking, oozing Bacon Hut to tow it to a mechanic. Thirdly, leaving us no choice but to put our babies back in the vehicle that is towing the vehicle about ready to catch on fire. I googled the nearest mechanic, a four minute drive. Maybe we won’t blow up and die in the next four minutes? It’s anyone’s best guess.

When we thankfully reach the mechanic in one piece, It’s 10 minutes till 5:00 and, with trigger fingers fixed on the time clock, they quickly inform us the bearings are shot and we need to get them repacked before we travel any further, but they’re closing up for the day and, oh, also they don’t work on tent trailers, and, hm, no, they couldn’t tell us who does - as they leer judgingly at us in all of our blind stupidity.

As far as Terrible Things go, this one was dramatic and expensive, but we are all okay, still in one piece, holed up in a two-bit hotel across the street from Disneyland (with no plans of going to Disneyland, seriously.) also in close proximity to a Camping World. Somehow by the grace of God we made it here safely, where we’re waiting for our 1:00 appointment for new bearings tomorrow and hopefully, several hours later, I’ll be sitting on my best girl’s couch, a glass of wine perched on my knee, quietly laughing so hard that I start to shake.

10.23.2017