#I imagine it’s the equivalent of a binder for him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

edgarsabandonedrocketship · 3 years ago

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For the Weird Questions for Writers, 22 & 25, please! And, if you'd like to share: 18 for Jughead's pink bathroom and the fortune of his chickens (from The Chickens Come Home To Roost)!

Hi @raymondebidochonlifechoices! I've combined yours with one I got from @middleagedresidentofriverdale, since you both asked one of the same questions.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage. For that story, I knew I needed to get Jughead out of Archie’s garage. So, I created a situation where he came into some money. And, Riverdale real estate prices have got to be rock bottom, it was more than enough to buy a stately house on Elm Street. I thought it’d be funny if Jughead went for a place that had curb appeal, but also an interior that revealed the previous owners’ surprisingly eccentric tastes. I actually modeled the pink “princess” master bath after my own to some degree. I remember thinking: what tweaks might make this room really silly, yet too nice to compel Jughead to remodel it? I ended up making everything pink. To replace the pink fixtures with equivalent non-pink ones would end up costing more than Jughead paid for the house itself. Plus, the space makes Juniper really happy.

As far as the chickens go, Daisy, Stacy, and Janice are alive and well! I imagine Jughead and the twins have since added a few to their flock, especially since the chickens led the twins and their friends to restart Riverdale's chapter of the 5G (Guts, Gumption, Guile, Greatness, and Glory) youth organization’s Poultry Division. In fact, the twins and company enlisted Jughead as their advisor, which I’m certain has led to many wacky adventures.

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud? I’d say I'm somewhat organized—in theory at least. I kept a Google doc outline for my multi-chapter and also made one for my AwUB series (once I realized it wouldn't be the one shot I’d originally anticipated). I also created a master document for the AWuB universe, where I stashed key facts, characters, events, etc., to refer to and (hopefully) ensure that I didn’t contradict myself. That was really helpful, especially once that universe started expanding rapidly.

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story? Dr. Curdle Jr. is obsessed with symmetry to the extent that he’s ended relationships over it. In fact, it was among one of many “irreconcilable differences” cited in his first divorce. His daughter, Cassie (an OC who’s friends with the twins) moves things around their house ever so slightly to fuck with her dad whenever she’s mad at him. It’s very effective.

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why? LOL, I’m not sure that I’ve found any character I’ve written to be “stressful,” but the closest I can think of is probably Alice. She’s so high strung and mean, though I in my writing I try to soften her up and make the situations lighter/funnier.

Thank you both for the asks!

#ask game

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this-is-not-nothing · 4 years ago

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⭐David discovers that Patrick has a wedding scrapbook/binder/spreadsheet/Pinterest board⭐

David clicks open Excel with a groan. He promised Patrick he’d get the candle order sorted if Patrick would deal with Roland. David expects to see the net or gross or YTD whatever Patrick always leaves open and it takes him a second to process what he’s looking at.

Which is the Patrick Brewer equivalent of a mood board. There’s a flowers tab, a tux tab, a possible guest list, a honeymoon list. There’s some…complicated formula on that page that David doesn’t quite understand, but he thinks it might be a calculation showing how much they can spend on a trip based on how much they spend on the wedding.

David looks at his four rings and imagines the fifth, then at the spreadsheet again and starts clicking around. The flower budget is higher than David would have dreamed and the parenthetical this seems high but accurate according to theknot.com makes David laugh.

David’s still staring at it when Patrick drapes himself across David’s back. “How’s the order going?” David feels the instant Patrick registers what David is looking at, his body going still. “I meant to—um. Close that.”

David wiggles, turning around to face Patrick. “I didn’t know you were this into wedding planning?”

“I’m just as surprised as you. Last time, Rachel was making all the decisions and I felt like a fish who swallowed a hook, getting reeled in—“ David grimaces at the slimy metaphor and Patrick laughs. “This time I just wanted. To know what I was saying yes to. I know I’m just the numbers guy.”

“No.” David says, more firmly than he means to. “You’re the groom. You get to—we get to decide together.”

#a thing i wrote #discord prompt #david x patrick #wedding vibes

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emilycollins00 · 5 years ago

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first off, i adore your writing style.

if it's not too heavy could i request a pre-t ftm reader with Juza? (if it's too heavy, or you don't feel you could do it accurately, that's fine as well ^^)

Aww thank you so so much! Really made me happy knowing you like my style! 💕

I’m sorry it took me this long to do though. I wanted you and everyone to enjoy it so I wanted to do some reading about the topic before. Apologize if how I wrote some things might not be completely right! I hope people who are more educated on the topic will hopefully help me improve educate myself better.

Hope you guys like it. Enjoy!💕

Title: Lovely smile

Pairing: Juza Hyodo x pre-t ftm! reader

Theme: Comfort/fluff

Juza might not understand it fully well, but since the first moment, he doesn’t mind

“S’okay”

You blink stunned, digesting his fast acceptance

He shrugs when he sees you are not reacting, trying to explain himself

“…that means you’re just as much of a man as I am, aint’ it? Fine by me. I love you the way you are... or choose to be. If you like yourself, that’s enough for me”

Oh, you could feel your mind and body releasing all the tension you had contained as he said those things to you. Juza thanking you for sitting him down with him after you calm down

Which makes you kiss him so hard he turns rigid and a blushing mess

I believe he would have some difficulties understanding some aspects

Probably will be found reading about gender identity in between the autumn plays so he can be of help and understand you better

You eventually talk to everyone at Mankai too. Of course, everyone does nothing but support you!

Did I mention Juza is very protective of you?

Like a big fluffy bear.

Someone makes a mean comment? Snort? You have to stop Juza because he’s already onto them to knock out teeth.

Will smile affectionately whenever you tell him you passed that day talking to the lady in the shopping mall

Regarding the clothes, wow, there’s not a day you are not borrowing something from him. Not that he minds, you look great.

Always right pronouns when he refers to you

Juza does his absolute best to help you with dysphoria. When you get dysphoric he usually holds you close, his strong and calming voice telling you how much of a great boyfriend you are

“My feet and hands are small”

“…like’em”

“I’m thinking of buying a binder”

“…let’s go tomorrow then”

You are everything to him, honestly. He wants you always to feel well and safe with him

“Thank you for coming!” the waitress smiled at you two as you paid for your coffee and cakes.

You and Juza had just finished having some sweets in the new patisserie that had opened next to Veludo Park. As you opened the door, you turned to your boyfriend when you heard a noise from behind him

“Excuse me, miss!” the waitress ran with something in her hand, “I think this is your wallet, right? You left it in our counter”

Indeed, it was yours “…uh, yes, sorry” Juza eyed you as you thanked her for noticing it before you two were farther and resumed your way out.

Having some time left before rehearsal, you two went to his shared room, relaxing on the couch, you reading a book, while he tried to memorize the new script. A few minutes later, you noticed him staring at you. You left the book on your lap and smiled at him “Everything okay, Juza?”

Feeling caught, the autumn member blushed, looking down. You titled your head as he lifted his head again, frowning like he did when he was concentrating.

“…I wanted to ask you somethin’” he sat straighter.

You smiled at him, indicating him to keep going.

“I… ” he didn’t want to avert his eyes when asking the question. He needed to see your reaction “When people keep call you girl or miss… or give you looks, y’seem ‘kay… but I thought I’d be a shitty boyfriend if I didn’t ask… how you really feel.”

It hadn’t been that long since you had come out to Juza and you couldn’t be happier when your sweet lover didn’t think twice before accepting you.

You smiled at the memory “Okay, first? You would never be a shitty boyfriend. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met… metaphorically and literary” you laughed remembering how many cakes he just had eaten half an hour ago, and Juza felt his stomach swirl at the sound.

“Let’s see…” after that, you went quiet, trying to find a good way to explain your emotions and thoughts about others “To answer truthfully…” you looked up at the ceiling “It does hurt a little”

He nodded silently. He had expected a response like that “…I’m sorry” He took your hand and from the corner of your eyes you saw the way he looked at you, hoping he could take your pain away.

You pursed your lips, trying to control your emotions. You leaned and kissed his lips grateful. They tasted like chocolate and cream.

He squeezed your hand, letting you know he had liked it, and you smiled at the gesture, enjoying the clash between his rough hands against yours“…It’s okay. Really. You are here with me and so is everyone. That’s the only thing that matters to me. I might not physically be there yet but… it’ll be okay. Thank you for asking”

Juza nodded “I mean, even now you’re still the most handsome boy I’ve met… Never thought was goin’ to be a problem anyway”

You felt your face burning as you looked away, embarrassed “Juza!” you would never be able to keep a straight face when he threw you those compliments

Words like those meant more than he could ever imagine. You were a man, nothing would change that, and Juza loved you exactly like that.

He blinked, frowning confused when he saw you trying to remove the tears you had realised had formed in your eyes “…Y’okay?” he helped you drying them, caressing awkwardly your cheeks.

“Yes” he heard you whispering as you gave him a small smile, your foreheads touching as you leaned towards him again “I love you so much, Juza”

“…love you too” he murmured, relaxing before kissing you again. He truly loved your smile

_____________________________________________________________

I truly believe Juza might be the equivalent of a life size bear in human form, love him so much.

Hope you guys liked it. Have a wonderful day! 💕

#a3! act! addict! actors!#A3! Actor Training Game #a3 act #a3! juza #a3!#a3 #a3 headcanons #a3 scenarios #a3 juza #juza hyodo x reader #juza hyodo #pre-t ftm reader #juza x reader #juza

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guildedlily6 · 5 years ago

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You Plus Me Equals Soulmates Part 2 (Peter Parker x Reader Soulmates!AU)

Summary: 2nd part to You Plus Me Equals Soulmates. Y/N doesn’t believe in soulmates, but she can’t help the feelings that are growing for Peter Parker. Will she give in to her feelings or let her best friend, Liz, have Peter, regardless of the tattoos that might say otherwise?

Author’s Note: Hi also let me know if you like Part 2. This one is a bit longer than the last one, so enjoy (to whoever might read this). If you haven’t read Part 1, you might not understand Part 2 so make sure to click on the link down below to read Part 1.

Part 1

Word Count: 2,125

Warnings: swearing (that’ll probably just be common from now on).

POV: Point Of View.

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

“You know, I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Sure you did,” Liz says. We’re walking down the concrete hallway, looking for the number of Parker’s apartment. “You totally could have found another excuse and backed out.”

I had attempted to back out, but as I was forming my homework excuse, Ned had interrupted me.

“I tried to.”

Liz shrugs before knocking on the apartment door. “Obviously not hard enough,” she states.

The door opens after a small pause. Parker stands there with his hand on the door handle, a pencil tucked behind his ear. I don’t think there are enough synonyms for “dork” that could help to describe this kid.

“Hey Peter,” Liz greets, breaking the awkward silence. Again, why is he looking at me, not Liz? I look away hastily, breaking the eye contact I hadn’t realized Parker and I were making.

“Yeah, uh, hi. Come in,” Parker stammers. He opens the door and Liz and I walk past him. His apartment is cozy and there’s a fairly young woman in the kitchen. Does he have a sister or something?

“Peter! I didn’t know you were bringing girls over. You never bring girls over-” “These are my friends Liz and Y/N. We were just going to study,” Parker says, cutting into what the lady was going to say. The chick gives Parker a look that's a calm equivalent to wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Liz, Y/N, meet my aunt May. Aunt May, meet Liz and Y/N.”

“Oh! It’s so nice to meet you two. I’ve heard a lot about you Y/N.” Aunt May adds in the last part without hesitation, causing Parker to blush.

Heard a lot about me? But he’s going to homecoming with Liz? What a creep.

“Yeah, uh...let’s go. Ned’s in my room,” Peter says while leading us to his room. The bedroom is small with light grey walls. There’s a bunk bed but the top bunk is covered with clothes and a few boxes. Other than that, the room looks nice, apart from being able to see the clothes and other random crap shoved under the bed.

“Oh, hey guys. Sorry, I’ve already built half of the Death Star already. But you two can help with the rest,” Ned says eagerly. He sits on the floor in a pile of Lego pieces.

I plop down on the ground and take out one of my binders and a few pens. “No thanks. Like I said, I have homework to do,” I announce. Liz shoots me a look that screams “don’t be a bitch”.

“Yeah me too, Ned,” Peter adds, glancing at me. Ned looks at him, seeming a little confused.

“But you just said-”

“I said I have homework to do,” Peter says insistently.

I don’t know if they’re not normally this weird, or this is just something I should get used to. Either way, I’d appreciate it if they could act like normal people. I look down and focus on my Algebra homework. Although, it’s kind of difficult to focus while Parker is staring at me from his spot a few feet away. I look up.

“What? Do you need help or something?” I question.

“Um n-no. I-I mean yes. Could you, uh, help me on this one?” He points to a problem on his paper. “I don’t really understand how to get to the answer…”

He’s on AB honor roll and takes a shit ton of AP classes and he’s asking me for help?

“Yeah sure,” I scoot closer towards him so that our shoulders brush against each other lightly. I explain the problem and then show him what I did to get my answer. I can’t help but get the feeling he knows exactly how to solve the problem, though.

I finish explaining the problem and look back up at him, only to find him staring at me, once again. There’s a moment where we don’t say anything and I feel butterflies in my stomach. His eyes aren’t chocolate brown. They’re a dark oak color with streaks the color of honey carefully scattered around his iris. My eyes dark from his eyes down to his right wrist.

After the loss of eye contact, he clears his throat and looks down at his paper. This whole time, Liz has actually been helping Ned with his lego Death Star. But at this moment, she’s looking at Peter and I with a hint of jealousy and anger in her gaze.

I take my eyes off of Peter’s sleeve-covered wrist and continue to work on my Algebra assignment.

___________Peter’s POV___________ I clear my throat and look back down at my paper, trying to make myself seem more interested in this boring slim piece of dead wood rather than the girl sitting next to me.

That was full-on eye contact. AND she didn’t immediately look away. This is progress. Maybe.

I’ve liked Y/N since the second semester of freshman year. And she hasn’t noticed. But now I’m stuck with Liz. And now Y/N is at my apartment. I sigh. But so is Liz.

Y/N, Liz, and Ned look up at the sound of my random sigh. I blush lightly and pretend to have been sighing out of frustration at my homework.

Ned knows I like Y/N, not Liz. Ned knows all of my secrets, basically. He even knows I’m Spider-Man after that incident that included him destroying the first Lego Death Star we had made.

The whole situation when I ended up asking Liz to homecoming instead of Y/N was quite possibly number one on my list of dumb-things-I’ve-done-on-accident.

I had been probably annoying Ned all day on my plans of how I was going to muster up the courage and ask Y/N to homecoming. I mean, if I have the courage to literally jump off of buildings and fight actual Avengers, then surely I would’ve been able to ask a girl out, right? Nope.

I had marched myself up to the both of them, Ned silently cheering me on. Y/N had paid no attention to my appearance, but Liz’s face had lit up instantly. At the time, I thought it was clear that I was asking Y/N out to the school dance, but when I think about it now, I was too busy looking at Liz and her happy energy for Y/N to notice that the question was directed at her.

“The uh-the...ha, sorry...homecoming is coming up...you know...and so...would you go with me? I mean you don’t have to you-”

“Yes! Absolutely! I thought you’d never ask, Peter,” Liz had answered enthusiastically. It was at that moment I knew I had fucked up. Usually, I’d never use words like that to describe anything, but I think it’s an accurate description for my thoughts and feelings during that moment. Y/N had just sat and watched me ask out her friend in front of her. And her friend had accepted it so cheerfully. There was no way I could build up another mount of confidence to tell Liz that I was actually asking Y/N out.

All I did was let out an uncomfortable laugh as Liz happily embraced me in the middle of the hallway for everyone else to see.

So yeah, I messed up pretty badly. The classic Peter Parker Bad Luck. Somehow, though, I’ll fix this. Somehow I’ll show Y/N that I like her and not her best friend. Maybe I’ll even get to see her soulmate tattoo; I’ve been waiting so long to find out if she’s the one. When I look at Y/N, my chest physically aches with the desire to know if she feels the same way I do. But in reality, I don’t think she even likes me as a friend. The tattoo on my wrist means more to me than anyone could imagine. To me, it means a guaranteed happiness with someone.��Soulmate scientists have said that sometimes one half of the soulmate pair takes longer to fall in love, so maybe that’s the case.

Don’t say love. What if she isn’t the one?

I feel terrible. Liz thinks I was asking her to the dance and then if I turn her down or disappear at the dance, most likely she’ll be heartbroken or worse, tell the whole school I’m an asshole playboy. But if Liz isn’t my soulmate and I don’t feel anything for her, shouldn’t I reject her?

_________Y/N’s POV_________ An hour goes by as Liz and Ned finish making the Lego Death Star while Peter and I work on homework.

“Do you have any food?” I ask. My stomach is grumbling and Peter hasn’t offered us snacks, even though it’s past 6pm.

“Oh yeah, sure. What do you guys want?” he asks in return, standing up just as I stand up as well.

Ned asks for some chips and Liz requests water. I look over at Peter, realizing that we both got up.

“Oh, sorry. I thought I could get it for you guys,” Peter explains. Oh god, it’s like their awkwardness is rubbing off on me. What, did I think we were all going as one big party to the kitchen?

“Yeah, sorry,” I laugh it off, but as I’m about to sit down Peter speaks up.

“But maybe you could help me carry the snacks,” he offers it quickly, like he’s secretly been wishing for me to help him carry snacks or something weird like that.

“Uh okay, I guess.” Liz looks between Peter and I. She shifts uncomfortably and opens up her binder, abandoning the Lego Death Star for her English homework.

Peter and I walk out of his room and into the kitchen where Aunt May is doing dishes. At the sight of both of us alone, she suddenly shoves a glass into a cabinet and utters something along the lines of “I have that thing to do”, and scurries out of the kitchen and around the corner. Everyone remotely related to Peter, it would seem, is a little odd.

Peter gets a glass and starts getting Liz’s water from the fridge. “You can look in the pantry for Ned’s chips. Feel free to get what you want.”

I open the pantry and grab Ned’s chips and a bag of popcorn for me. “Can I have some water, too?” I ask, as if he’ll tell me no.

“Yeah sure, help yourself.”

I open the cabinet I saw Peter get Liz’s glass from. Immediately, however, I lose my grip on the cup. But before the glass can hit the ground, Peter’s hand darts out of nowhere to catch it.

“Damn. Some ninja-like reflexes you have,” I say, which is true. Who the hell has a light-speed reaction time like that? What kind of Edward-Cullen-meets-The-Flash shit was that?

“Uh y-yeah I guess I just acted on instinct,” he says hastily, pushing off some accusation that I didn’t even make. He pours me a glass of water from the refrigerator and we head back into his room where Ned and Liz are sitting in silence.

The rest of the evening is spent in peace and quiet with the occasional glance between me and Parker. I don’t know why I keep looking at him.

Did he always look cute while focusing on school work? Shut up, I tell myself. Liz likes him and from what I can already tell, she doesn’t appreciate Peter and I constantly sneaking glances at each other like we’re in some kind of dumb cliché rom-com.

Eventually, Liz decides it’s time to go and we say our goodbyes to Peter and Ned.

As we walk back down the concrete hallway away from the apartment, she turns to me.

“Why’d you do that?” She says, her voice wavering a bit.

“Do what?”

“You kept sneaking cheeky glances at Peter, thinking I wasn’t looking. And then you went to the kitchen by yourselves to go get snacks. What are you trying to do here?”

“What? Liz, I don’t understand.” I actually did understand what she meant, but to admit it would make me look guilty when I’m not.

“Yes, you do. I was so excited when Peter asked me to homecoming and now you’re being all flirty with him. I want you to stop. Call your mom or something to come pick you up.” She starts walking away.

While she’s still in earshot, I reply to her claim, “I wasn’t flirting with him. I didn’t even want to come, remember? He’s still Peter-The-Dork to me and I wasn’t trying to do anything.”

Or was I? How am I supposed to know what my subconscious was telling me to do?

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Thank you for reading!

Part 3

#peter parker x reader #fanfic #imagine #soulmates #au #soulmate au #trending #marvel #spider-man homecoming #mcu fanfiction #peter parker #tom holland #dashboard #fluff #peter parker fluff

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elopez7228 · 5 years ago

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Scenic Route 10/47

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

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

Rey woke up cold and aching. It hurt everywhere—her neck, her back, her feet. The back of the car was certainly large enough to sleep in, but it had been an unrestful sleep. Every little thing had made her jump last night. Every headlight that zoomed by was the blonde woman. Every torchlight flitting across the alleys of the campground was looking for her. Every time the dog barked, someone was surely approaching.

She was tired, sore, and already contemplating defeat. She had left London to escape depression. But instead of a sunglasses-and-cocktails vacation, she had found herself in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, 7,500 kilometers away from home. And top it off, she was being chased by a strange woman. Her luck was six feet under and her paranoia through the roof.

She wished that Leia Skywalker (and even Rose to a certain extent) had warned her about what she was getting herself into because she had no clue what to do now. Last night she had seriously imagined leaving the car in a garage somewhere and taking a flight from Jackson Hole to San Francisco. Ciao, stalkers and bizarre favors.

But what about BB8? Rey had taken responsibility of her. Taking her on a flight would require veterinary clearance, a doggie carrier, and all sorts of other complications that she had neither the energy nor the means for.

Her gut feeling told her that this setup had been deliberate on Leia’s part. With a dog in tow, her safest bet was by driving that car back. Unless she could abandon the dog in the woods somewhere...

BB8 chose that exact moment to nuzzle against her, begging for affection.

“You were in the loop about this, weren’t you?” sighed Rey as she scratched the dog between the ears. “You’re the dog equivalent of a honey trap, you conniving little traitor.”

But seriously—it was just a dog, not a KGB spy. She would be fine...

Rey got out of the car and stretched. “Come on, let’s go for a walk and then look for some breakfast.”

She dug out the box of cookies she bought last night and ate one, occasionally giving bits and pieces to BB8 after making sure they were chocolate-free. She let BB roam free this time, sensing that she wouldn’t try to escape from now on.

Tent folded and loaded into the car, Rey packed the rest of her things. BB8 chased an errant squirrel, helped herself to some treats, and took care of business. Rey watched the dog play in the tall grass as she continued checking her phone for messages. A while ago she had even left a voice message to Ben.

Rey here, British and susceptible. Sorry for my reaction the other day, my life is complicated. I saw your band was passing through Jackson Hole on the 5th of July. I’m in the neighborhood, I might come around. Bye.

That message would likely cost her dearly. How was she going to justify contacting Ben again after the scene she had caused at the Four Seasons? To be honest with herself, she hadn’t seen an alternative last night, sitting there on the cold ground. Her family and friends were thousands of kilometers away. Leia Skywalker had disappeared on her.

Whether she liked it or not, Ben Solo was the only person she had maintained contact with since landing, and the only person who had really done her any good without expecting anything in return. She hoped she wasn’t bothering him.

To be fair he had also called her ex and meddled in her personal life when he barely knew her, but due to the circumstances she tried her best to forgive him for that. She had wanted to turn the page on that particular incident and banish Ben Solo from her thoughts forever—before that mysterious blonde woman showed up.

Since then Rey had fretted about traveling alone, with no one to turn to in times of trouble. It’s not like she needed a protector. She just needed a friend, if only for the comfort of knowing that she wasn’t alone. That several hundred kilometers down the road, there would be someone on the other end of the line if she ran into a problem. But it was 7 AM and he hadn’t answered.

In his defense, Rey had texted him around midnight. Maybe he just hadn’t seen it yet.

“All aboard, BB8!”

The dog jumped into the back seat and started chewing methodically on her rubber duckie. The resulting (absurdly loud) squeaking noises made Rey smile.

Hitting the road again, Rey regretted not taking a bathroom break or a shower, or using the washing machines available at the entrance of the campsite. She reeked of dog, sweat, and old car. Strangely enough, it made her laugh. The woman Finn had known had always been a belle, sporting manicured nails and designer perfume. If only he could see her now—he would hardly recognize her.

Come to think of it, thinking about Finn no longer made her balk. Was she simply too tried to be angry? She was just starting down a particularly sharp turn when her phone vibrated. It took every ounce of her willpower not to stop in the middle of the highway to read that text. The Millenium Falcon reached Jackson Hole a few minutes later, and she parked in central town before scrambling for her phone.

Hello, Brit. I see you’ve found my number, Rey. I’m settling in at Jackson H this morning. I’m staying at the Lodge, 80 Scott Lane. I’m free should you want to get coffee sometime—let me know.

It was barely a kilometer away, she could practically walk there. But once again she thought about the blonde trying to break into her car. She would feel much safer parking in the security of a private hotel garage. It only took a few minutes to find the place, a magnificent Swiss chalet complete with exposed beams and stonework. She spotted the infamous black pickup in the parking area and stationed the Millennium Falcon right next to it.

Hello Ben, I found the Lodge. Still up for coffee?

His response was immediate:

You’ll find me in the lobby.

Leia rolled her eyes when another TSA agent approached her as she waited near the baggage claim at Sacramento International Airport. She had been expecting it, but the sheer number of public servants under the First Order’s thumb still managed to surprised her. From the minute she had left the house she had been coincidentally stopped at every traffic checkpoint possible. It was chilling to realize that this sprawling private organization was in some ways above the law.

She had thought about giving up more than once.

What could she do at this age, with only her brother and a handful of rebels behind her? They were up against a massive corporate empire that had the feds in their pocket. But Leia Skywalker had fought her entire life. For the military, for her honor, for the love of her husband, for her son’s education, for minorities’ rights, and for the weary and downtrodden underdogs. Therein lied her definition of the brave: those who defended the defenseless. She could never stop doing that. Leia knew that nothing short of her death would result in her silence.

Leia let the man search her without protest—like every other officer before him. She was wearing a long charcoal dress and heavy ornate bangles of both wrists. Her hair was pinned up in an elaborate braided chignon that added to her height. In her left hand, she carried a cane. It was less for walking and more for leaning on after spending long hours on her feet.

Like every other time, they let her go. He gave her suitcase back after failing to find anything suspicious—the lining was starting to wear. The object they were so eagerly looking for was no longer in her possession. She smiled knowingly. Knowing that thousands of miles away, an English tourist was on her way.

Leia was greeted by a friendly face as she crossed the line into Arrivals. Her lawyer, Amilyn Holdo. Amilyn was a sixty-something daredevil, her greying hair dyed a striking violet. She was wearing a knee-length taupe skirt suit and violet pumps. Her smile was all dimples. She greeted Leai warmly and grabbed her suitcase.

“How are you, Leia? It sure took you a while—did they hold you up?”

“Like always, Amilyn. My health isn’t what it used to be and they wouldn’t let me go through the baggage claim. Every damn time. I’m forced to just ignore it these days. How’s the mission going?”

“We’ll discuss it in my office, you never know who’s listening. The meeting with Governor Valorum’s staff is in three hours, that gives us some time to plan.” Guiding Leia by the hand, she made her way to the taxi pickup zone.

The law offices of Amilyn Holdo were rather modest. Far from the ornate, high-vaulted, glass and steel monoliths that symbolized the American legal system in popular imagination. A room with a single window and wall to wall bookshelves laden with books and dossiers. Box after box of case files on every available surface, overflowing with papers, binders, envelopes, and notebooks with handwritten memos scrawled on every last page.

Amilyn moved a box stacked on a chair to make space for Leia to sit down. She poured a glass of water for her guest, and rummaged through a small cabinet. She handed Leia a hefty violet dossier held closed by a single strap. “FORCE America: First Order Resource and Capital Extraction”.

All traces of humor gone, the lawyer leaned forward and folded her fingers below her chin. “Tell me everything. Last I heard, you had found someone new?”

“Yes. Rose discovered the perfect candidate. It’s not like we could do it ourselves. We couldn’t use email or the postal service. And we would be spotted from a mile away if we did it in-person. I had to delegate.”

“But who is this girl? How do you know she’s not some FORCE spy?”

“Rose and Paige did a background check, it only took a few hours to clear her. We’re quite certain she’s just a broke tourist. It’s perfect really, FORCE was expecting an activist type, and there’s no way they can stop every single tourist from Colorado to California.”

Amilyn pursed her lips, visibly still unconvinced. “But you gave her the Falcon. Surely it will attract unwanted attention?”

Leia smiled. “They can take the Falcon apart piece by piece is they want, they won’t find a thing.”

“I wish I was confident about this,” she sighed. “This whole operation hinges on the element of surprise. If FORCE finds those documents before the public, we’re back to square one. And this time we won’t get a head start.”

She was interrupted when Leia placed a hand on hers, a comforting gesture. “Hope is like the sun, if you only believe in it when you see it, you’ll never make it through the night. Amilyn, this is the culmination of years of hard work. Have a little faith, they won’t win this time.”

“I hope you’re right, if we fail we won’t be able to recover and—“

“Trust me, Amilyn. This girl is very capable.”

The lawyer smiled begrudgingly, not quite uplifted by her client’s optimism. She chewed on the inside of her cheek in silence, avoiding Leia’s eyes.

“What’s eating you, Amy?”

“It’s—Kylo Ren.”

Leia’s smile faltered. Her face fell as she took a sip of water. “What about him?”

“You know he’s been tracking the Tico sisters. Ironically, that means they can keep tabs on him too...but it seems he left town a few days ago. Almost exactly the same time as the girls, Connix, Milham and the others.”

“FORCE already knew we were on the move. We planned for that. The more we scatter our agents, the more resources they spend chasing diversions instead of cracking our strategy,” Leia responded, trying to keep her voice neutral.

“Yes, I know. But Kylo has Snoke’s ear, and Hux’s attention. He knows the inner workings of our organization, he knows you and your brother. And he’s deeply involved with the Order. Are you sure he won’t see this coming?”

Leia’s shoulders sagged, as if burdened by the weight of her grief. She took a deep breath, pausing to find the right words. “Kylo is a brilliant boy. He was swayed by material wealth and prestige. He’ll understand one day. I don’t think he would dare to come after me himself.”

“And you?” Amilyn asked, “If we win, they’ll lose everything. Are you willing to put your own son in prison?”

#reylo #fanfiction #modern AU #scenic route

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kinkymagnus · 5 years ago

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What are your thoughts on trans Magnus and like the ability to maybe magic some of what goes with that? Like does he do it the mundane way - binders, medications, etc or does he use magic and glamours? Or both?

mmmmmmmmmmmMMMM ok ok so i know i do a lot of “pre-op” magnus because Projection but 100 percent it makes sense that magnus “actual magical genius” bane could find new ways to help trans ppl with magic

magical hormones, spells that influence biology or perception or little things, little features, glamours, etc. plus improving or augmenting mundane tech, like binders that are Magic and can compress like, in a safer way (consider: magnus selling these pretty damn cheap even to mundanes who are just like “yeah idk why this binder is the most comfortable i’ve ever had but i recommend this shop”) and stuff like that?????? fuck i love trans icon magnus bane

but like def both, i can see magnus doing hormones, or using a binder, or magic. i imagine over the centuries it would be like. earlier in his life binders (or the equivalent they might have had, like a modified corset or something?) and glamours, and magic, and then later as mundane tech began evolving more start to incorporate that, too

and magnus is a fucking genius, this man invented the motherfucking portal, he could totally figure out new magical ways to help transition/present as anyone wanted to (especially with catarina’s help!! she has medical knowledge and specializes in healing!!!) and he’d use that to help as many people as possible, especially other trans downworlders aaaaaaa i love him so much

#trans magnus bane #magnus bane #shadowhunters #dont love the term pre-op bc it implies everyone gets the surgery/surgeries but #idk what else to call it

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thepatricktreestump · 6 years ago

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pride month asks!

some questions and answers about my experience with LGBTQ+

1. What do you identify as and what are your pronouns?

I identify as bisexual and genderfluid, so my pronouns regularly change from she/her to he/him.

2. How did you discover your sexuality, tell your story?

I have always been a huge ally to the LGBTQ+ community, but one day I was stepping out of the shower, and kind of thinking to myself what the difference between having sex with a guy and having sex with a girl was. After contemplation, I thought to myself that they really weren’t all that different to me, and I’d probably enjoy having sex with a girl just as much as having sex with a guy. I researched online a little bit, and I figured out that yeah, I’m probably bi. Especially after I fell in love with both Brendon Urie and his wife Sarah, I was pretty damn sure I was bi.

3. Have you experienced being misgendered? What happened and how did you overcome it?

Sometimes I do, but it honestly doesn’t bother me too much because I come from a very conservative, religious, small town background. I grew up in a private Catholic school where everyone is Republican and nobody even knows what being gay is, much less a different gender. So I’m kind of used to putting up a façade for others. As I graduated and moved away from my hometown, things have been much better, and by politely correcting others, I’m able to be confident in who I am as well as educate the people around me.

4. Who was the first person you told, how did they react?

Oh god, haha. I distinctly remember that night when I knew I was going to tell my best friend I was genderfluid. I was so nervous and scared, I just sort of blurted it out over text, in all caps, like “I’M GENDERFLUID” and then I kind of panicked, so I proceeded to send her about a hundred Hamilton gifs to cover up what I had typed out and sent. Although it was awkward in the moment, we both laugh about it to this day, and she’s been so accepting and kind to me ever since that moment.

5. Describe what it was like coming out, what did you feel?

For my friends, it was a lot of anxiety and doubt. For my parents, fear and chaos. My friends didn’t understand, they thought it was a disease of some sort, and actually a lot of them stopped talking to me. Again, conservative religious background, but still, no excuse. I grew up in a very abusive household, and it wasn’t my choice to come out. My therapist had forced me to tell my parents in a session and it was an absolute mess. Coming out wasn’t the best experience, especially as a freshman in high school.

6. If you’re out, how did your parents/guardians/friends react?

I kind of explained above, but basically not so well. My dad went absolutely off on me, and said some of the most horrible things I have ever been told in my life. He said that I was dragging everyone I knew towards hell, that what I was is unmoral, unnatural, and unnormal, acted like I was some sort of monster, said it was extremely difficult to even be related to me, and that I was corrupting his family and disrespecting his household. It was a miserable time for me, but through music, I was able to write a song about it that helped me cope.

7. What is one question you hate people asking about your sexuality?

A lot of people assume that because I’m bisexual, I’m some sort of fetish they can use to fulfill their dirty fantasies. I’m always asked to be a part of a couple’s threesome. I am told that the only reason I’m bi is because I want double the opportunities to have sex. It’s ridiculous and disgusting. I’m bi because I like people. Not because I like sex.

8. Describe the style of clothing that you most often wear.

I really fucking love beanies! Most of the time I read that’s the essential clothing item for all genderfluid people, which makes me laugh, because it’s true. Combat boots or converse, black jeans, a band t-shirt, a sports bra or binder, a jean jacket, and a beanie is always my go-to outfit. So much so, to the point my sister told me that every time I go out in public I’m always wearing the same thing, which kind of makes me laugh.

9. Who are your favourite lgbt+ ships?

I don’t know if you’ve ever read the magna, Tamen de Gushi, but I absolutely love it! That lesbian couple is everything! I also really love Shane Dawson and Ryland Adams, of course. Captain Holt from Brooklyn Nine Nine and his husband is amazing. Elijah Daniels and Sam also make me super fucking happy.

10. What does makeup mean to you? Do you wear any?

Growing up as a theater kid, I’ve always seen makeup as accentuated and over the top. I only ever wore makeup on stage, and even then, it was special effects type stuff, zombies and clowns and shit. Once I hit puberty though, my mom would force me to wear makeup because she said it would make me beautiful. I hated it. She would force me to put on makeup before I left the door and it made me have horrible self image issues. As I grew older, I found a love for makeup through beauty gurus and drag queens, and I sometimes dabble in it either for fun or for special events like prom or fancy dinners. I always prefer no makeup though, I feel like to me, wearing it is just hiding behind a mask.

11. Do you experience dysphoria? If so, how does that affect you?

ALL THE GODDAMN FUCKING TIME. Since I’ve gotten my haircut, a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. Wearing a binder also helps so much! However, I still really want to start T and I think that will help a lot. Dysphoria affects me in so many ways, whether my self confidence or my body image, my anxiety and my mood, etc., a lot of it depends on how comfortable I am in my own skin.

12. What is the stupidest thing you’ve heard said about the lgbt+ community?

Homophobic people are probably the stupidest people I’ve ever met in my life, to be honest. I’ve heard thousands of dumb things come from their mouths. I think the most outrageous myth I’ve heard is probably that being gay is a disease, and that simply being around another gay person will make you gay. Like who the fuck comes up with this shit? Smh.

13. What’s your favourite thing about the lgbt+ community?

How creative we are. We’re resilient and outspoken and passionate, but most of all, so talented. The queer community is full of inventors, politicians, emperors, artists, directors, actors, musicians, and more. It’s gorgeous just how much we are capable of.

14. What’s your least favourite thing about the lgbt+ community?

The discrimination breaks my heart. The fact that we are terrified to so much as hold hands with the one we love in public. To be beaten, tortured, and killed simply for who we are. That is what hurts me the most.

15. Have you ever been to your cities pride event? Why or why not?

No, I find it sort of ironic every time there is a pride event I happen to have a concert on that day. Once, a Panic! concert, which honestly is sort of the equivalent of Pride. We went and there were so many LGTBQ+ flags and people and it was so gorgeous. I have attended pride prom once though, and it was probably the most fun I had ever had in a really long time.

16. Who is your favourite lgbt+ Icon/Advocate/Celebrity?

I absolutely adore Miles McKenna. He has helped me so much in finding myself and accepting who I am. He’s such a huge spokesperson for the community and I am so grateful to have him in my life.

17. Have you been in a relationship and how did you meet?

I’ve been in several relationships, surprisingly, through parties and discussions and friends. My s.o. right now I met through high school, which was crazy in itself, but we’ve been dating for almost two years now and I love them to death.

18. What is your favourite lgbt+ book?

Beautiful Music for Ugly Children is one of my favorite books ever and it’s about being FTM trans and I love it so much wow.

19. Have you ever faced discrimination? What happened?

So very much. After coming out to one of my best friends, she stared at me, disgusted and went “well don’t try to have sex with me or anything” and then proceeded to never talk to me again. I’ve received dirty looks and glares, been misgendered on purpose, and even received death threats. It’s horrible.

20. Your Favorite lgbt+ movie or show?

I love American Horror Story so much because of just how much representation it gives our community and how natural they make it seem! And of course, “Love, Simon” was an amazing movie that made me cry like a baby.

21. Who are some of your favourite lgbt+ bloggers?

I don’t really know about bloggers, but definitely Youtubers! Shane Dawson, Miles Chronicles, Thomas Sanders, Ally Hills, Anthony Amorim, Elijah Daniels, Elle Mills, Garrett Watts, Sam Collins, Todrick Hall, and Trevor Moran are a couple of my favorites.

22. Which lgbt+ slur do you want to reclaim?

I don’t think queer should be a slur. I think queer is a form of self expression and an umbrella term for the community, and I believe many other LGBTQ+ members agree. It’s a word that we take great pride in rather than shame or discrimination.

23. Have you ever gone to a gay bar, or a drag show, how was it?

No, but god I would love to.

24. How do you self-identify your gender, and what does that mean to you?

For me, it’s simply just a part of who I am. Just like the weather, my gender simply changes and I adapt to it. It makes me comfortable in my own skin and proud of who I am. I wouldn’t change being genderfluid for the world.

25. Are you interested in having children? Why or why not?

I fucking hate the idea of pushing a human being out of my vagina, and I would probably want anything else in the entire world other than giving birth. Being pregnant for nine months sounds absolutely miserable and dysphoric, and I cannot even imagine going through labor. However, I would like to have kids, just simply through foster care or adoption, never like my own biological children. There are more than enough kids who need good homes who already exist and I’m more than happy to give it to them.

26. What identity advice would you give your younger self?

You aren’t alone and there are so many people just like you. Your parents do not own you and cannot tell you who you are supposed to be. You are you.

27. What do you think of gender roles in relationships?

Gender roles are complete bullshit. Let a guy be a stay at home dad. Let a woman be the working one. Everyone should have responsibilities regardless of their gender. If there’s dirty dishes, do the fucking dishes, don’t wait for your spouse to get home to do them. It’s absolutely ridiculous, really. Just do your part in the relationship.

28. Anything else you want to share about your experience with gender?

It breaks my heart how much pain and suffering one has to go through just to be themselves, especially for women and trans people. It’s horrible.

29. What is something you wish people know about being lgbt+?

It’s natural! It’s comfortable! And it’s normal! Being oneself is just part of life, there’s no need to have shame or guilt about it. Respect someone the way you wish you would be accepted and loved.

30. Why are proud to be lgbt+?

We have worked so fucking hard to be recognized for who we are. There’s still so much we need to do though, and we aren’t ever going to stop until every single one of our siblings gain the love and respect they deserve.

#pride month #lgbtq+#genderfluid #bisexual #genderfluidity #bisexuality #bi asks #genderfluid asks #pride asks #happy pride month

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purpleskiesandpaperflowers · 6 years ago

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Introducing me(us???)?

Ok no that's a terrible freaking title. We are not the jonas brothers.

Who's we? Haha honestly I'm not even sure anymore. This is a hard one to write because I literally don"t tell anyone about my "inner world" which is why I'm keeping my blog anonymous for now .

I guess I'm just a wierd human with a messed up brain that has no reason to be messed up. I'm in the process of figuring it all out .

Long story short "we" is me and my ... I'm not sure what to call them I used to think they were just imaginary freinds , but they have become something so much more real.

I remember being 5 years old and having imaginary freinds like any other child. I cant remember much but I'm pretty sure my home life was perfect. I have an amazing mum and dad and even had two grandparents at the time. I remember happiness and my cat who really wasnt a fan of me , but I adored her regardless , even if she did end up scratching the living hell out of me on many occasions. My main issue at the time was serious separation anxiety, I couldn't handle being away from my parents , it got better towards the end of the school year I think after a lot of spending most of the year screaming until my dad would pick me up. I found it hard making freinds as I was somewhat anti social and liked playing on my own often, but I found a freind in the end. I think we got on so well cause she was different too. Turned out she had Autism, something that I'll probably talk about a lot here. Anyway as I said back then was when I first remember having imaginary freinds , and constantly daydreaming . I used to watch my dad play video games a lot so a lot of my daydreams would be based off the video games . At the time It was perfectly fine. I was just a strange kid who had an over active imagination, zoned out a lot in school , and often enjoyed my own company, but couldn't understand why my peers didnt like the antisocial wierd kid. I remember getting teased as I have a harmless autoimmune skin condition that I developed aged 3 and I felt alienated for it . The serious bullying didnt start until later in primary school though .(I think age 11 or thereabouts, was when shit really hit the fan) Anyway the imaginary freinds were originally just that . Unfortunately things changed when my one freind from school left and moved across the country. I had no freinds so that's where I began to use my imaginary freinds to replace real people. By the time I was 13 I'd almost completely isolated myself , I didnt know how to interact with real people.

I eventually thought I'd got it all under control . I found a group of people that were all a bit wierd. Originally it was cool and I fit in okay.

When I went to sixth form college, stuff started to get weirder though. I'd been struggling throughout secondary school I'd spent a lot of time kind of going back into my alternate reality . Even at freinds parties I used to pretend that I was a different person in my alternate reality doing something with my inner world family. I mentioned it once or twice to someone at CAHMS (The british child mental health services) that I was seeing as I'd struggled a lot with anxiety and self harm , but I never wanted to be fully honest about it . I was embarrassed.

Aged 12 I remember "pretending" to be a character called Casey. At the time I was spending a lot of time pretending I was Kasey and I was making a talk show with my other imaginary freinds . Eventually another character called Paulie took Casey's place .

Paulie's whole existence is kinda embarrassing. They're a typical queer cringe OC That you know a 14 year old neurodivergent weirdo would make up. I kind of originally used them as a way to explore my special interests. And to understand things about the world . In many ways Paulie was kind of a reflection of myself and you know everything was fine . Paulie is a 5ft7 young non binary person . Born male but definitely presents more feminine. Some of the other details about them came from me incorporating things I'd learned from various medical documentaries and things I'd researched on the internet. (One of my special interests always was science , particularly biology, when I was young I wanted to be either a doctor or a vet or something like that. I dont know why I find it so fascinating. It's kind of my party trick - boring people with the details of a random medical condition that they absolutely did not ask for.) I'll go into full details at some point . I find it kind of embarrassing to talk about it all.

Anyway It used to be great we used to pretend to do makeup on our youtube channel that of course did not exist .(the deeper I get into this the more I want to delete my life) it became to the point where I was doing daily "vlogs" in the inner world as Paul , again just something I day dreamed about. It was getting beyond the limits of normal daydreaming.

At some point I came across a video about "Maladaptive daydreaming " for once in my life I didnt feel quite so alone. I couldn't believe that I wasnt the only one who did this! Ever since then I've toyed with the idea of opening up about it , maybe through some sort of blog or youtube video etc. However, I wasn't ready until now. I'm still not ready to be completely open with my freinds and family (the one person who even knows 1/3 of this stuff is my mum) which is why I'll remain anonymous for now .

In the last 2 years things have gotten increasingly more strange and confusing. When I was in sixth form college (british equivalent of high school) Paulie started to be kind of phased out of my daydreams. Then Eric showed up.

Again , it was just daydreaming that had gone a bit too far at this point, however I soon realised that my personality appeared to have changed to become much more like Eric. I stopped wearing makeup so often. I began to feel dysphoric about my body , I began to wish I was Eric.

From then it's just been confusing. It's never just been Paul , Casey or Eric . At first i thought I'd just made an imaginary family. I've been saying that I have literally no idea why because my family are great. But I wonder if it was because I lost my nan and then metaphorically lost my dad.

My dads not dead , hes alive (just about I mean he smokes like a chimney so it's probably only a matter of time) Our relationship is so wierd. I try to be grateful for him purely because hes not a completely bad person. He gave me a great childhood and has never laid a finger on me. But when I was about 13 , I lost him. He became self absorbed in his own past.

Around about that time one of my dads ex freinds died. Since then dads been remembering things from his past and is convinced that this ex freind emotionally abused him and traumatised him for life.

Hes told me the stories so many times because hes so caught up in it that I should probably remember more of what he told me but honestly I think after the third time I just gave up with talking to him. Dad never cares about what you're talking about . He only cares about himself.

I'll spare you the details for now. Maybe I'll make a post about it. I suppose that's his shit not mine though . I dont deny that his ex freind wasnt exactly nice to him and cheated him out of a relationship. But I just feel like he should maybe you know go to therapy rather than sitting at home , freeloading from my mum , mumbling to himself all day about things that happened in the past.

Its very selfish of me because I know even though dads not exactly had the worst life, and he is a little bit of a narcissist who thinks that hes had the worst life possible , I know hes hurting. But I used to have a dad , now hes just not there. We used to do stuff , and I used to adore him, However hes just not my dad anymore. Theres glimmers of him there . But hes so entangled with the past , (and also a bit delusional) that I cant have a normal father daughter relationship with him anymore.

I guess maybe the combo of that , the strain its put on my parents marriage (they're still together but they argue more now) and the fact that I'm a sensitive little snowflake who really cant deal with anything unpleasant, is the reason I created my imaginary family. I don't know if I want to put it down to that though. I feel like that makes me sound like my dad , blaming my problems on what feels like insignificant past events.

Anyway. I kind of hate the fact that I have another family on the inner world. Because even though my dads a bit of an asshat , hes my dad and as a multitude of people have told me " at least you have a dad , at least your parents are still together" and I adore my mum. Like shes as close to a perfect mum as you get in this world. Of course she has off days and it's not always sunshine and rainbows , but shes amazing. She loves me , she supports me through everything and she does so much for me. No matter how many times I screw up she just sighs and helps me move on. Mind you. I havent got anyone quite like her in the inner world.

Since I've been more honest with myself (and the boys) about the fact that I am in fact daydreaming and its not real , the boys have begun to accept my mum as their own almost. Obviously they have real mums, but I know they love her to pieces.

Anyway, so this big imaginary family. Has become more than that. A lot of the dudes are still just imaginary freinds but with a few of the boys , whom I've introduced you to two out of the three, have become scarily real. Eric is the main one. The last couple of years it's progressed to the point where sometimes , I'm not sure if I am me or if I am Eric , or if Eric is me. Sometimes I feel like I'm thinking in his voice. Sometimes I look in the mirror and see him. And sometimes he looks in the mirror and sees me. I think as Paul was so feminine. It didn't show so much. We could just pretend we were me on the outside. But when Eric is in my headspace, I hate my feminine body, I've bought a binder and my wardrobe is becoming less feminine. Because I just dont feel like the same person. I'm honestly so confused I really dont know what is going on or why it's happening.

In some ways the inner world is still just me navigating the world and my way of making sense of things. But it's also kind of like , parts of my personality, as little people that live in my brain , but not quite , I cannot begin to explain it .

And then of course, just when I'm trying to figure out the Eric saga and who the hell I even am anymore, Vlad pops up.

I'll always have a soft spot for Vlad. Hes Paul's older brother and has been in the inner world for quite some time , but has been more I suppose, in my headspace as I call it in the last six months or so. Hes the only one that I've managed to do a successful drawing of thus far although I'll try and do some of the other dudes at some point. Only issue is Vlad would much rather we doodle bugs than the other boys. Vlad has been my way of exploring the whole prospect of having Autism , I'm not diagnosed yet as the waiting lists are frankly ridiculous (yay for the tories?) but I've based vlads character around the traits that I have, and he helps me not be so ashamed of being neurodivergent. He also kind of helps me deal with my Emetophobia (the fear of vomiting) and my issues I have around food - which I honestly thought weren't that bad until I got told that the issues I've been having with my stomach and swallowing for the last year , are completely down to my anxiety. And it was at that point that I realised I may have been a teensy bit more traumatised by my phobia of vomiting than I originally believed. In fact vlads backstory is based off of my whole fear of being sick and what started it off (that time the norovirus kicked my ass, big time) .

Uhh so theres a bit about us . I'm not ready to fully open up yet . I want to eventually tell you more about the inner world but baby steps hey. I plan on trying to post more but , I'm useless so I wouldn't count on it.

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hereliesbitches--me · 2 years ago

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Death

the living embodiment of the Void, the grim reaper, an entity of many shapes and faces.

Death is the equal and opposite to the creator God, and the father to all Moon entities. By this statement, he is also Rosie's creator who regularly peeks in to the state of the story in different unfamiliar entities. Death is always watching, always vying for a well done, clean ending to the life story of mortals, which is often difficult with Big G constantly adding "plot twists" and extending the lives of mortals.

While more of an NPC, death will be a character that will pop up more often in threads once you become closer to Rosie

Fun CharacterFacts:

the old reaper has cracks in his Skull, received while reaping powerful entities who did not want to be taken. While he respects the fight, he is inevitable and will always win in the end

The Scyth weapon he had is the storage place of reaped souls, to which he can transport or reassign souls. The length of his scythe has 13 grooves which represent the 13 dimensions, to which he can press and warp himself easily between realms for reaping purposes.

Personality facts: Death is not the warmest entity up front. He lacks true emotional understanding and perceives everything as a matter of fact. There is no place for social constructs or moral righteousness when Death comes to reap. But he's not wholeheartedly cold. He has a fondess for creatures that fight for survival, and has grown warm in regarding the Moons as his daughters. Especially Regarding Rosie's existence as an uncharted abnormality. He likes to collect vintage items through the dimensions and time -- he has a particular appreciation for classic rock and the alternative genre. MCR happens to be a favorite, he even has a shirt that was gifted to him

The bones are not interconnected, instead they are in fact held together by a tar-like substance that is manifested void solidified to act as a binder to give him that iconic skeletol look. Means you can technically pull his bone as far as you like and it will snap back in place like putty

Death is the embodiment of the oblivion, and everything about the multiverse actually occurs within his own body. The empty void lies within his ribs, voidborn are the first creatures to inhabit the oblivion are the equivalent of harmless skinmites to him, and yet that are one of the most dangerous creatures to anything that is living. The creation of 13 dimensional planes exist within oblivion to act like a viable biosphere for life to be planted by Big G Elohym and all their crafty creations. It acts like a protective barrier with voidborn desperately trying to tear and crawl into in order to feed their insatiable hunger

Death and God also have a complicated relationship in which God is best described as a manic out of ouch OC creator that adds trauma and major events to the story as a means of character development , while Death is the editor that tries to cleanly tie up story endings before Big G gets ahead of himself (I say he but can legit present in any shape that people want em to. He's a person shaped thing with a glowing face you cant see rocking the air moses 3000 sandals ) and goes overboard with a damage. Imagine Death's scroll like a shared google doc, hes in the middle of writing a proper character death in red ink, then suddenly blue ink manifests on the page and starts crossing out + deleting his work to overwrite what he has written down. It becomes aggressive note wars at the side panel of the scroll arguing with each other. Death screams in his crypt and the multiverse shivers in confusion. Big G laughs because Death just doesnt understand the masterpiece they have planned. Big G is not malicious, he has simply never had to live a mortal life and does not understand the extent of what suffering feels, only understands how it changes the course of a person's character through it. Like I said, manic creator

Death monitors the realm of the living in person, but also has it personified in his keep as a large garden. People can be plants, they can be insects, they can be the tiny animals that roam his greenhouse. The relationship of the living and their health is usually depicted in the wines vines entwine, take root, or how flowers wilt and how insects may burrow into other plants. Death is able to sift through his green houses to account for the state of the multiverse, even pruning the wilting flowers as a mercy as they head towards the end. Death is able to grow blooms out of himself, usually down his back and shoulders as a mean of making himself less imposing, but also because he likes that touch of life and color that is the opposite of everything he is

Death is an entity that is ever present in the lives of mortals in times of great suffering and mass death. You may see death in any different shapes, present in battlefields, hospitals, graveyards, refuge camps -- any place where great suffering has occurred. Death's preferred shape is a wiry eccentric older man out of time, but he can also borrow vessels of dying creatures and people as his means of wading through the world unnoticed. In doing so typically means the vessel has already expired and he has granted them a peaceful passing through himself in exchange for using their flesh as a disguise. When death takes his true form again, the meat body will decay and mummify in a matter of seconds, enlarging to make the shape of his robes while the bones reshape into his own original form. its p horrific to witness in person

#:For Whom the Bell Tolls (Death):#:art:#death will be a reoccuring figure in the future for anyone that gets close with Rosie #its part of it

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emmelfish · 7 years ago

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So when I took that Which Sims 2 Family Are You quiz I legitimately got the Goths. Vintage. But now I feel this pressure to have my moronic gameplay match their illustrious reputation. It’s okay though – I think we can all agree that the one thing that covers all bases and absolves me of any sins here is Mortimer Goth’s Accidental Default outerwear.

IT’S BLOODY PERFECT.

Mort’s also got a great car (🎵 yeah what’s wrong with it today, I used to have one too maybe you’ll come and have a look) which he’s using to take Dina out on a date to a fancyplace. (Melissa Fancey, live up to your name and have some respect for Londoste for crying out loud, it should be a place where sims automagically spin into their formalwear upon entry.)

Yo Brenda! Nice to see you again! This is quite a different gig to Oresha Family Dining, how on earth do you keep up with the competing personalities of the restaurants you’re hosting at?

Brenda:

Or whatever the Sim equivalent of cocaine is.

Mortimer: Good evening Brenda. The coziest, most romantic table you have?

Brenda: Of course Mr Goth. Shall I take your coats?

Mortimer: NEVER!

Either they keep the temperatures in Londoste super low or Morts and Digs are hella attached to their outerwear. And who wouldn’t be? They both look fly as balls.

Brenda: Voila! Right next to the main entrance so everybody walking in bumps right into the back of Dina’s chair. Great view of Melissa Fancey’s flame pants.

Mortimer: Excellent, I think Dina will enjoy an audience for what I have in mind.

Kristen, did you just... follow these two here? Are you stalking them? Still can’t find your way back to Strangetown?

Kristen: Are you kidding? I love this place, it’s the same as my last name, give or take an N, D, and an O.

Dina: So! Champers?

Get used to making that face Mort, she’s a Fortune sim. Of course she’s going to order the most expensive fizz on the menu if someone else is paying.

DINA IS PRECIOUS AND MUST BE PROTECTED. She wants a Baked Alaska for her dinner! A Baked Alaska! As a meal! I want to hug her.

Melissa: Fanceypants, Fanceypants –

YOU’RE RUINING EVERYTHING, TOWNIE

Alien server: So tonight our specials are tartlets of wild mushrooms with black truffles, or our signature dish of green peas in several different textures with poached egg. Our lobster thermidor is served with a side of ceviche, and cod roe foam.

Dina: *wants Baked Alaska*

Mortimer: You look familiar, you wouldn’t happen to be one of PT9′s brood would you?

While these cuties toast, please enjoy the Deep V walking by that is Ajay Loner’s chest. I’m always at a loss as to how to dress that guy. He has a LTW to reach the top of the Dance career in my game, so I can only imagine he’d want to show off his bod in the most unfashionable way possible.

Guys, that food came pretty quickly. I’d worry about Londoste’s cooking techniques if I were you.

Mortimer: Enjoying your Baked Alaska, sweetheart?

Dina: Just taking a water break, then you’ll really see me go to town on this bad boy.

And she wasn’t joking.

Mortimer: Here darling, you really ought to have some savory food as well tonight.

I find it adorable and hilarious that feeding Dina some of his food built more Cuisine enthusiasm for Mort.

Now, just look how smooth this cad is:

Mortimer: *holds Dina’s hand* I just want you to know...

Mortimer: ... that you look very sweet in your newsboy cap. I hear they’re making a comeback.

Dina: They sure are!

I’m not going to make him sing the ‘I’ve Got Something In My Front Pocket’ song like Darren did but Mort’s almost bringing it on himself with this pose.

Hahahahaha it’s only from this angle that I see Dina’s already destroyed half her Baked Alaska. Oh Digs, I don’t think that’s earrings or a charm bracelet in there... is this the moment you’ve been waiting for?

Mortimer: Please let her like it, she has the most expensive taste of any sim I’ve ever met...

Kristen: You look a lot like my roommate Chloe. You might know her, she’s really annoying... and hot... and super annoying. Hey, are you doing anything after this?

Dina: Oh oh oh! Cushion-cut black diamond, three carats easy, platinum band? Have you been reading my diary??

Mortimer: So I take it you like it?

Alien server looks like she may be considering Kristen’s offer of a date in the background there.

DAMMIT I missed the throwing the box behind the head again

Dina: Is it okay if I call Nina and tell her to dust off the giant wedding binder?

Mortimer: ...You have a giant wedding binder?

While these two discuss their impending nuptials, let’s take a look at some of the other diners Londoste has attracted.

Goopy GilsCarbo can’t believe his luck that he’s at a bar next to Kim Cordial...

Probably a good thing Crumplebottom is on the end there preventing him from making any dumb moves. Not that she needs to be, Kim could turn him into a roach if she wanted of course.

I’m gonna come out and say it. I’ve held it in too long. I LOVE TRISHA TRAVELLER’S FACE. She has a glorious, wonderful face, and her eyes are a marvel. However, she produces (spoiler alert) some, shall we say... interesting-looking children. I had her and Trent procreate a son and during his toddlerhood he looked like one of those little naked Troll dolls people used to collect with the gems in their belly and the brightly colored hair. Or, if we’re talking ’90s toys, a Boglin. You’ll see him soon of course.

Nice to see PT9 is maintaining the tradition of turning up at every single restaurant I play.

#JustFortuneSimThings – treat yo self to lobster thermidor when you’re dining solo, like Ajay ‘Not Just A Clever Name’ Loner.

We’ve already got a bad witch here to bring rain and roaches to a community lot in the form of Kim, so when I saw all kinds of drama outside I was glad to see it was a Grand High Vampire causing it instead. Is that the famous 18th face template I’m seeing there?

Dina: Um Mort Mort, there’s a guy over there who I’m pretty sure is a spy but looks like he’s really bad at pretending not to be a spy. Shall we call someone?

Mortimer: No my ray of sunshine, let’s dance instead!

Kimberley: Hahaha, enjoy your DRIVE, losers! This is how all the cool kids get around!

Dina: *is mad about burglary for the 8,475th time*

Oh my! I totally forgot I slipped into the Beakers’ a while back, let Circe get pregnant and throw up every three seconds, and then pretty much let her pregnancy go on forever. I really hope it’s twins so that Susie and Skip Jr have two rivals in the hellspawn stakes.

PT9, I don’t know who that is you’re lusting over, but it’s not Jenny, therefore stop.

This technically isn’t possible without getting posey, but it really looks like Dina’s admiring her new ring there. Homeward bound for these two lovebirds! How ironic that poverty-stricken Brandi and Darren paid their bill in full, while Mortina here just waltzed out without dropping a penny. How the other half live.

Will it be wedding bells next time we look in on this lot? Quite possibly! And of course, it wouldn’t be a Goth wedding without heaps of drama.

#Dina Caliente #Mortimer Goth #Melissa Fancey #Ajay Loner #Trisha Traveller #PT9 Smith #Kimberley Cordial #Goopy GilsCarbo #Mrs Crumplebottom #Circe Beaker #Londoste #Downtown #Sims 2 #Sims 2 Gameplay #emmelfishuberhood

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adiseaselikeyouspreads · 8 years ago

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They start meeting just about every day after school, at Regan’s house. The first few times, it’s a lot of demonstrations and a lot of Jason getting knocked on his back. He’s sorer than he’s been since he finished his physical education requirements.

It’s still worth it, though. Both for knowing he’ll have a better chance of defending himself, and for when he successfully gets out of Regan’s grip and feels a swell of pride, earns a big grin.

“You’re a quick learner,” Regan compliments, when Jason manages to successfully counter a grapple. Jason’s top is drenched with sweat and Regan barely looks tired, so that’s still a problem, but Jason can already feel himself getting stronger.

“Or you’re a good teacher,” Jason counters, using his shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead.

“Let’s go with both, then we can both feel good.”

Jason laughs a little. Over the course of the last week, he’s gotten increasingly comfortable with Regan. It’d been awkward to be around him without his binder on at first, but Regan hadn’t even seemed to note it. And it’s easy to get comfortable with someone who unquestioningly backs off when you call uncle in a sparring match.

“How long did it take you to get good at this?” Jason asks, going to get a sip of water.

“Well, I’ve been in sports on and off since I was pretty young.”

“So I’m as good as you were when you were eight?” He guesses.

“Pff. More like eleven.”

“That’s sooo much better.”

“Hey, if you keep up the good work, you’ll close the gap eventually.”

“Eventually,” Jason sighs. “Guess we should get back to work, then.”

The next day, he feels a bit like his arms are about to fall off. Lugging his backpack around all day is hellish. At least it’s a satisfying sort of burn. The kind he knows means he worked hard.

Still, he can’t help but be relieved that there’s no film club today. He gets picked up and dropped off at home and gets to flop down on the couch and just breathe. It’s a recovery day, so he’s going to do approximately nothing but watch T.V. Maybe study a little, if the news doesn’t stop popping on talking about the Camera Killer’s most recent video.

At least, that’d been the plan. His dad starts to fumble around in the kitchen, walks into the living room, back into the kitchen, then back out, juggling a number of files, floorplans, a thermos, his wallet, and his cellphone.

“You alright there?” Jason asks, watching his dad struggle to sort through a couple papers.

“Yeah, just-” He checks his phone, quickly, then pulls some money out of his wallet and holds it out to Jason. “Some problem came up at the house I’m working on and I need to go check it out. Ask my contractor how it is going to affect the budget. I didn’t get to go grocery shopping, so just run down to the 7/11 and grab something. I’ll bring you late dinner when I get this worked out.”

“I…” Jason stares at the money, then looks up at his dad nervously.

His dad is confused for a second, and then the gears start turning. “Hey,” he says, sympathetically, “it’s only a fifteen minute walk there and back. I’ve got my phone on me, you’ve been doing your self defense stuff. Just make sure to go while it’s still light out.”

“Right…” Even though he takes the money, he doesn’t look too pleased about it.

“I’ll probably be home around eight,” his dad informs him before rushing out.

Jason puts it off for as long as he can, before he actually has to start worrying about the sun going down. Before he steps out the door, he messages Regan.

Jason: walking down to 7/11. let’s hope I don’t have to use my new skillset. :^/

Regan: you got this jj

Jason smiles a little at the nickname, wondering if he could make an equivalent for Regan. R.A.? No. That’s what you call the dorm advisor in college.

Regan: remember if a big guy comes at you, use his weight against him

Jason: what do I do if a small guy comes at me?

Regan: tell him you know dmitri and he’ll have to stop. short guy code

Regan: fr tho momentum is ur friend

Regan: hmm. maybe i should draft dmitri for short guy sparring practice

Jason: I feel like he would bite me.

Regan: he would definitely bite you

Jason: how would I explain that to my parents?

Regan: tell them ur new gf is kinky

Jason: I’m pretty sure that’s how you get grounded.

Talking with him is making this walk a lot less nerve-wracking. Constant communication, focusing on anything but his paranoia.

Regan: wat are you buying?

Jason: chips, probably. or ice cream.

Regan: bro

Jason: what?

Regan: bro youre trashing ur body

Jason: omfg. what healthy thing could i buy from 7/11!!

Regan: multigrain bar or some nuts

Jason: what swamp did your tastebuds crawl out of?

Jason: creature from the black legume.

Regan: dont diss legumes dude

Jason: I’m buying a slushie out of spite.

He walks into the store, hearing the jingle of the bell overhead. He’s got just enough to buy himself a slushie, a bag of chips, and a candy bar.

Jason: mission success- bought junk food without dying.

Regan: 🎉

Jason: now for the encore.

Jason steps out of the 7/11 and starts the short journey home. Drinking from his slushie makes texting a little harder, but he’s so got this.

Jason: so what’re you up to?

Regan: just got home from riley’s

Regan: gonna make myself a salad like a responsible teen

Jason: meanwhile I’ve got chocolate.

Regan: i should make a chocolate vinaigrette

Jason: you cook?

Regan: hell yeah dude

Regan: i dont know how to make a chocolate vinaigrette tho

Regan: that was a joke

Regan: i guess i could look it up

Regan: i make a mean half moon pie i should make some for you sometime

Jason: I don’t know what that is but it has pie in it so I’m in.

He takes another big slurp of his drink and grins around his straw when Regan starts to ramble about how to make this dessert.

Then something is wrapped around his throat. A presence suddenly behind him, a taut rope wrapped around his neck, strong arms pulling back. Everything falls out of his hands when he yelps in surprise.

He wasn’t paying attention.

His mind races. Choking. How to- he tries to tuck his chin, but the rope is under it, that doesn’t help, this isn’t a choke hold.

The rope is digging in and up, any time he tries to get solid footing, another yank almost makes his feet almost leave the ground. He flails, elbows, grabs at the unknown assailant’s face. The more effort he exerts, the more his lungs scream in protest.

Unfortunately, he can’t do the same; his voice coming out rasped and restricted.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. None of Regan’s lessons prepared him for this.

He tries to dig his fingers under the rope, shift his weight to ease the pressure, throw off the attacker’s center of balance, but none of it works. His vision slowly gets dark around the edges. His brain is still on full panic, heart hammering rapidly. But his consciousness goes soft and for the second time in very few days, he blacks out.

Waking up this time isn’t like last time. It isn’t a slow climb out of a muddled state. It’s sharp, disorienting; he was in one place but now he’s in another.

And this place is very dark and this time there’s no Sidney kicking walls or silly harmless clocks.

There’s just frigid cold. Pale light coming in through high windows, casting long shadows. He can barely look around. He’s strapped to a chair. With mild horror, he realises it’s a dentist’s chair. Modified, his legs and arms bound. The bindings are tight. No silly amatuer stuff, no pulling at the right angle to get out. Fear seizes him. His stomach is doing flips.

He’s alone, for quite some time. He doesn’t know how long. The light outside is fading fast. He dropped his cellphone. What if the killer has it? What if he texts his friends, parents? No one will even know he’s missing. Not until tomorrow.

A door creaks from somewhere and he tries to twist and look, but his mobility is a little limited right now. There’s a sound of rolling wheels, along with heavy, booted footsteps.

“Hey,” Jason croaks, before he can even consider if it’s a good idea to speak.

“Mr. Joon-ho, you’re awake,” comes a low southern drawl from somewhere behind him. “I hope you had a nice nap, because we are going to be very busy.” The voice slowly rounds round until Jason can see its owner. It’s deep and rich, the kind of voice that would be soothing, if not for the fact that it is coming from behind what is clearly a mask of cured human skin.

The rest of his clothes look too normal. Jean jacket, plaid shirt...hunting gloves. He’s pushing a cart with what can only be described as an array of sharp tools on it.

That comes to a stop a good five feet away, but the man paces closer.

Jason can see his chapped lips and dark eyes through the rough cuts in the mask, hear his heavy, unfiltered breathing, imagining the humidity inside the mask; he feels nauseous, wants to cry.

“Let me out of here,” he demands, tries to sound insistent, but he knows how scared he sounds. He gets a laugh in return. A short one, a facsimile of politeness, like he’s chuckling at a dear friend’s witty joke.

“Bless your heart,” the killer says, and Jason’s skin itches. “Can’t do that, little buddy. You see, you’re a delicacy.” He plants a hand on Jason’s arm. “Surviving five murder attempts? That’s some kinda record. I’d love to let you marinate for a bit longer. Seen how you’ve been strengthening up. Would taste a lot better with some meat on you.”

His other gloved hand pats Jason’s face and Jason’s brain goes haywire as he realizes who this is. He jerks and tries to curl in on himself, but he can’t. He can’t protect his squishy middle bits from what this fucker is no doubt about to do to them.

“But let’s face it. You’re just a pit stop on my cross country tour. Can’t wait around any longer.” The Cannibal withdraws both his hands and taps his chin. “In fact-” And he’s moving back to that cart.

“Help!” Jason shouts, as loud as he can, jerking against his restraints. The sounds bounce uselessly off the walls.

“Hey now,” the Cannibal says, turning around, walking back towards him with some nondescript item in his hand. Jason can only see the handle. “None of that. There’s no one out here, anyways. And you should save your voice. There will be plenty of time for screaming later.”

“Fuck you,” Jason says, throat tight. Before he knows what happens, he feels a burst of pain. The Cannibal just punched him in the face with a meaty fist. His head is spinning.

“Watch your language,” the Cannibal comments, even voice turning acidic for just a second. Jason laughs as he feels the blood flow from his nose, tastes it on his lips. This guy’s about to carve him up like a Christmas ham and he doesn’t want to hear him swear. Incredible.

The object shifts from one of the Cannibal’s hands to the other and Jason can see, now, through skewed glasses, that it’s a potato peeler. Just a run of the mill potato peeler. His stomach sinks.

“Any gourmet worth his salt is always going to sample his ingredients,” the Cannibal jokes as he seems to test the sturdiness of the peeler against his glove.

“Why do you do this?” Jason asks.

The peeler halts. “I already told you you’re a delicacy. A rare treat.”

“No, why do you do this?! This sh- stuff, why do you-”

“Well aren’t you precious?” The Cannibal asks. “You still believe in motives.” He presses the peeler to the side of Jason’s face. When Jason tries to turn his head, the other hand comes to hold him still. “I do it because I want to, and because no one can stop me.”

The peeler doesn’t rake down fast. It digs in, and carves, slicing off a strip on his right cheek in a slow, agonizing pull. It hurts, sears, like the world’s worst rugburn.

He can’t help that it pulls chokes and sobs from him even when he grits his teeth.

The Cannibal releases his face and takes the strip of skin between two fingers. Jason can feel his pulse pounding in his cheek, can feel the fresh blood.

Without preamble, the Cannibal lifts the sliver to the hole in his mask and pops it in his mouth, like it’s nothing, like he didn’t just tear it off of someone. Jason gags.

“Sorry to say, squirt, but I’ve had better,” he jokes, wiping the peeler off on a handkerchief he draws out of his pocket. “I can work with you, though.”

The Cannibal returns to his cart.

“Please don’t do this,” Jason begs.

“I worked up quite an appetite bringing you all the way here,” he answers nonchalantly, while examining knives, like he’s trying to decide which one will do the best job.

There’s a very loud sound from outside the room.

Like the sound of a door being kicked in.

The Cannibal tilts his head, like one would when confused. His hand slides to a particularly large knife and he takes it up, walking towards the door.

“Stay right there, peaches,” he hisses, sounding less like his fake-polite persona and more like an angry serial killer.

He opens the door and peeks his head out. Almost immediately, there’s a gunshot. He hears the Cannibal grunt and stumble back, but not fall.

Another slamming sound, probably someone kicking the door the rest of the way open, then a second gunshot. This time, there is a solid thump as the Cannibal hits the floor. A third gunshot comes anyways, and then there’s quiet. If Jason strains his ears, he can hear the mechanical rasp of the Plague Doctor, breathing heavily.

Jason closes his eyes, tears welling up. He doesn’t want to be relieved. He doesn’t want to be relieved that they’re here, but he is.

“Are you in here?” They ask, after a moment.

“What took you so long?” Jason responds, voice shaking.

“This is a big place.” They walk over, footsteps more hurried than usual. It’s the tall one. When they see him, they stop. Jason wonders if it’s really that bad, or if all the blood is misleading. Instead of commenting, they use their free hand to undo Jason’s bindings. He can’t help but note that they’re holding Christian’s gun. He doesn’t want to think about it.

When he’s free, he rubs his wrists and sits up, slinging his legs off the side of the chair.

“Do you need me to call 911?” Funny. It’s the first time they’ve asked.

“Do I need stitches?” Jason returns.

“Probably.”

He sighs, and pushes himself to his feet, despite the tremors in his legs. “Alright.”

The Plague Doctor returns to the body of the Cannibal, crumpled in the corner, and searches him. He doesn’t have a phone of his own on him, but he does have Jason’s. So they hand the phone to him and he gets to dial the number himself.

“911 operator, what’s your emergency?”

“It’s Jason Joon-ho. I was kidnapped by the Cannibal. The Plague Doctor saved me, but I’m hurt. I’m currently in…”

“In Warehouse number fifteen,” the Plague Doctor informs him.

“Warehouse fifteen,” he repeats.

The Plague Doctor turns to go.

“That’s not your gun,” Jason finds himself saying, before he can stop himself. The Plague Doctor looks at Jason, then at their hand.

“Better in my hands than in one of theirs,” they state.

“Better in no one’s. Better if you leave it here.” Jason stays firm.

They test the weight of the gun, like they’re still unfamiliar with it.

“Hopefully we’ll reach the point where I can give it up, soon,” they say, lowering their arm. That gives Jason pause.

“How do you sleep at night, after doing shit like this?” He asks.

“With all my windows locked.” They leave.

The police and paramedics come and his brain sets on autopilot. He barely thinks. Even when his dad gathers him up in a tight hug and apologizes.

Getting home feels weirder than after the previous attacks. He goes to bed without eating. No appetite. And as he lies there, he thinks about how every other time, there’d been some sliver of a chance, some way he could’ve hoped to have gotten out. But this time, he really would’ve died without the Plague Doctor.

#a disease like you spreads #adlys #chapter 6 #gif /#glitch /

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thatz-not-okay · 7 years ago

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While leaving a function at our synagogue the other night, my wife revealed that she's had her eye on a "vintage" coat that's been hanging in the synagogue coatroom for the last three months. She feels that, after all this time, it should be considered abandoned and that it's OK for her to take it home. But I think that would be wrong. First, the coat clearly belongs to someone else. Second, the coat is in a synagogue of all places, and you just can't take something that isn't yours from a House of God. Plus, what if the true owner recognizes the coat when my wife wears it out to dinner or in the supermarket, etc? My wife even mentioned asking the rabbi for his blessing to take the coat, but I think that's wrong too – he'll always look at her as "the coat-stealer". But she seems determined to take it. Is that okay?

Thatz not okay.

Here is the conversation your wife is setting herself up for:

"Cute coat! Where did you get it?"

"This? I just fuckin' found it and stole it. I take what I want. It's called livin' off the land. I like your coat too. I'm going to take it because I want it."

Just so we're clear, your wife is proposing that she go to your temple's rabbi and ask him specifically to approve an act that is not only immoral but also illegal because she would like a coat for free?

I think she should do this. As a test of your rabbi. If your rabbi gives his blessing to an act of calculated theft, you should find a new temple because your current one plays fast and loose with laws of both God and the state.

Under what circumstances would your rabbi ever give your wife his blessing to steal a coat from anyone, let alone another member of his congregation? Is your wife impoverished? Is she reduced to stealing because she can afford no coat of her own? You know what the rabbi would do in that case? Probably give her the coat off his back. Start a collection for your family. Perhaps organize a temple rummage sale with profits benefitting the needy (your wife.)

"Just a reminder, any articles left unclaimed in the coatroom after today's service will be donated to the rummage sale," he will say one Friday evening, and the coat's owner, a quiet old woman, who keeps to herself mostly will pick up the coat on the way out. She can't imagine anyone would have wanted it anyway—it was a gift from her husband, not really in the modern style—but it's of great sentimental value to her.

Coats don't have an expiration date. A coat doesn't stop being yours because you've had it for three months.

In another twelve years and nine months, that coat will have a bat mitzvah. It will become a woman and then it can choose for itself where it wants to live.

Until then, your wife should leave it alone.

(By the way, is she sure it's left behind every week and not just hung on the same rack by a woman who always happens to be at temple when she is?)

Last night around 9:30, I passed by a well-known national chain bridal store. It was closed for the night, and as I got closer I saw the security guard sitting on one a chair by the front window BAREFOOT & FEET UP on the guest waiting area chairs. His boots and balled up socks were just strewn about on the carpet. Bleeechhhhh!!! What could I do? Other than stand there for a few minutes pretending to text while I actually snapped a picture of his on-the-clock staycation.

Part of me wants to email the pic to the company in the interest of public health. Those chairs are there for moms and bridesmaids to sit on and SQUEEE when the bride-to-be emerges from the dressing room. This might not be the type of shop that serves champagne while you browse, but I'm pretty sure no ones expecting a hearty serving of sweaty foot juice either. And who knows what else he does while he's there alone? He saw me standing there for at least 10 minutes and made no moves to kennel his dogs.

The other part of me is worried if I drop a dime on this guy, he'll get fired which I don't think really think is warranted. Times are tough, & I assume he needs this job, because overnight security is not a super fun gig. Also, to be fair, he was holding some sort of binder which may have been full of security-guard-work things. And I guess, the store is being protected, because really- who wants to break in and wrassle with a barefoot guy in polyester pants?

I'm thinking about sending an email to the corporate address letting them know what I saw, but not including the photo or which store it was. Is that okay?

Thatz not okay.

I know the posters say "If you see something, say something," but that doesn't mean you should feel compelled to report literally every something you see.

I saw…A COMPUTER. I saw…FOUR TREES AND THEN ANOTHER TREE BRINGING THE TOTAL TO FIVE: FIVE TREES. I saw…MY HANDS.

All of these fall under the "anything" subheading of something. Another example of anything is a security guard resting with his feet up.

Sending an email to corporate to report that you saw a security guard in one of their stores sitting with his feet up is equivalent to calling a police station with the tip "Someone somewhere stole something." What are they supposed to do with that information? Host a shoe-keeping-on training session for all security guards? The gentleman you saw presumably knows that his employer would prefer he did not remove his shoes on the job. That's why he does it at night, when no one's around.

Unless you suspect the bridal salon in question is infested with hookworms, someone being barefoot in the store probably does not pose a significant public health risk. You know who else often goes barefoot inside a bridal salon? Brides, when they're trying on dresses.

So he's putting his feet on a chair—the throne of the butt. Have you ever sat on a couch? Someone's feet have probably been there. What about on the floor? You may be surprised to learn that many people do not remove their feet before climbing into bed but instead sleep with them there, resting perilously close to rest of their body.

And why do you assume he's doing other terrible things in the store just because you saw him with his shoes off once? If someone is a liar are they also a killer? If someone puts his feet in a butt place, does he also put his butt in a mouth place? Did you neglect to mention that you also saw him rubbing his genitals on all the doorknobs? If you saw him doing that, you should definitely report it: to the store, to the company and, most importantly, to [email protected].

Feet on a chair, though, is not as pressing. Maybe mention it on the Yelp page.

As for this:

He saw me standing there for at least 10 minutes and made no moves to kennel his dogs.

Did you really stand there for no fewer and perhaps more than 10 minutes lookin' at him lookin' at you lookin' at him lookin' at you lookin' at him doing his job? That must have been uncomfortable for you. Did you feel awkward at any point? Did you ever step out of your body for even a second of the 10+ minute time freeze to consider that it was slightly odd of you to be lurking on a sidewalk staring into a darkened bridal shop?

If I had been that security guard and I had noticed someone staring at me unwaveringly for a full ten minutes, you know what I would have done?

Called the cops.

If you see something, say something.

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