#i blacked out the cards but left the early game achievements I got

[leavesandbounds]

If anyone wanted to know why I dropped off the face of the planet for two days

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 35

💖first time reader click here💖

Reader and Eddie going on their mission. They're all morons, okay? Some canon-typical violence, bad guys being bad guys. You guys can see that I treat the fighting plot points as total crack, right?

Eddie Brock was pissed, at the Avengers mostly - for not telling him of my accident - but also at me, for the fact that I didn't call him sooner. Venom had taken over at some point, eager to participate in my plan - and it I was being honest, my uncle's space boo was the one I had relied on to participate in the mayhem that was to be caused to finally let my family breathe in peace.

The Avengers wore various expressions of guilt when an angry Eddie stormed the tower, berating them for not getting into contact with him when I was in danger. Venom growled at them, too, just the right amount of teeth and drool for Tony to quickly usher me out to 'take a walk, have some fun, build a snowman' with uncle Eddie and Venom. It was almost too easy, too predictable. The guilt that reared it's ugly head was stomped down by me and two glasses of whiskey in Eddie's rented Airbnb as I went into the fine details of my plan.

Both I and Eddie were equally surprised when Venom dropped their sarcastic, angsty teenager attitude and approached the topic with maturity, giving valuable input. The goth space goo was much, much smarter than their first impressions showed. I belatedly remembered their remark about being an apex predator species... Scary.

The plan was pretty simple.

Eddie was a professional investigative reporter and an unregistered mutant, his files being hidden so deeply due to the alien nature of the symbiote that it was unlikely that underground gangs would have any idea as to who he truly was. His involvement with SHIELD was buried under so much red tape, even Coulson himself had very little idea about Eddie's body-mate.

My uncle would sniff around the mutant underworld, just enough to catch a whiff of the mercenary's whereabouts. It should be enough if he was as famous as Natasha claimed him to be. And if it wasn't enough... I'd be bait. I doubt that the merc knew the box has been retrieved and secured; every now and then, I still caught chatter about the SHIELD agents trailing me catching a person sent to monitor me. They weren't even trying to hide that hard.

I had my suspicions SHIELD was indirectly using me as bait, too, and both Eddie and Venom were inclined to agree with the notion. Over beers and ridiculous amount of chocolate cake, a third side of the operation Baby Thief had been formed. SHIELD played their own game, the Avengers and SI threw a ridiculous amount of resources on their own and then there was me and Eddie, two halves of a whole idiot.

For once, the plan didn't go south immediately off the bat. Eddie and Venom got the information - there was a lot of uproar in the mutant community, rumours about an artifact that would let them assume their rightful place in the world, pushing the pesky humans off their pedestal. I definitely supported mutant rights - but the common notion that violence was necessary to achieve the recognition of said rights didn't sit well with me at all. Eddie agreed with me, his own curiousity pushing him to dig deeper into the situation.

My uncle could be a brilliant investigative reporter with the proper motivation and his significant other at the side. I could never tire of Venom's stories: each and every time they saved Eddie from making a clown out of himself was remembered, documented and brought up at the quickest available opportunity. I haven't laughed so hard in months.

The positives of our plan? We got a hot trail and enough information to know about the mercenary's whereabouts. We possessed the manpower needed to off him in record time, Venom eagerly offering his digestive system for our convenience.

The negatives? We'd need to bring me. Apparently there was a hefty bounty on my pretty little head and the merc himself had given up trying to chase me, hiring a bunch of muscle to do the legwork for him instead. The mercenary, a man who went by the nickname Cadre, was an ex-shield agent, who knew enough to successfully avoid the organisation following hot on his heels.

And neither SHIELD, nor Tony nor Eddie knew who had ordered the retrieval of the artifact. The mysterious person had deep pockets: all of the men were supplied with high grade weaponry and the mutants participating in the missions had equipment specifically tailored to their powers.

Perhaps, I wasn't as clever as I wanted myself to be. There was something big and ugly brewing and the bounty on my head was just the tip of the iceberg. But what was done, was done, and Venom was looking forward to a hefty meal and we set the date of Eddie "kidnapping" me in a few days time.

I hoped I'd make it home for Christmas.

The biggest surprise was that nobody suspected anything. Not even Natasha's watchful eye and inherent knowledge of shit about to be stirred - somehow, Nat always just knew those things - had revealed itself and that's how I knew it was absolutely necessary for me to be successful. There was no room for failure. In the day before my planned trip to Cadre's lair, I forced the team into a movie night and took extra time with everybody, seeing as even the most cheerful people - Thor and Wanda - walked around with sullen faces for most of the time. Perhaps, deep down, I knew that chances of my plan going awry were pretty damn high.

It felt like I was leaving for war. And perhaps, I was. The nervous, anxious energy increased as the hour X drew closer and I couldn't hide it anymore. My insomnia wore Tony's face: I could see his disappointment as clear as day, but I figured he'd forgive me for the betrayal eventually. Every single thing I hid from my newfound family made me feel a traitor. Unfortunately, there was simply no other option.

That afternoon, Eddie picked me up from the tower and drove me to one of the hideouts that belonged to Cabre. He'd tied my hands together and blindfolded me, all for show of course, whilst Venom briefly connected with my body to induce a drowsy state of mind. I didn't actually mind to be drugged and was way more wary of the symbiote's effects on my body but the space pudding extended his tentacles so quickly, I barely had the time to even swear at them.

To my (and their) surprise, it wasn't as bad as we thought it would be. In my hazy state, I briefly head Venom growl that I could be a decent short-term host if something would to happen with Eddie; I did not know how that information made me feel but did not disregard it completely. I was out of my depth on this one yet marched on towards the danger with grim determination.

"Here's the girl," Eddie's voice penetrated through the curtain of chemicals that Venom had dosed me with; I was tossed none too gently on what felt like a mattress, the landing haphazard but not painful. Venom must've dulled my pain receptors, too. "Where's our money?"

I was unceremoniously groped, my face examined by a man with ice-cold hands. Whatever he found, he deemed it satisfactory. "I'm impressed," He whistled. "We've been trying to get her for months. Care to share how you achieved this?" The strange man sounded suspicious.

"WE HAVE OUR OWN TRICKS," Venom's deep voice filled out the room like thick smoke and I just knew that the man who had been groping me was twitching in discomfort. "SO?"

"Alright, alright," The man mumbled, voice unsteady. My drowsiness slowly began to recede and I finally could focus my eyes somewhat; Eddie was partially obscured by the writhing, onyx mass of his symbiote and the man was dialing up the phone, speaking in a rapid-fire dialect I did not know. "Cabre will be here in an hour. Care for a beer?" Just like that, the man was obviously attempting to placate Eddie.

"HOT CHOCOLATE," Venom announced flatly and I had to struggle to hold back my laughter at the image of a seven feet tall tentacle monster sipping hot cocoa from a tiny porcelain cup. My nerves had me feeling ten types of way, as usual, and props to Ven making me unable to speak. I would have already killed myself by running my mouth ten times over.

The hour passed by with me floating in my mindsphere, Eddie loudly playing Candy Crush on his phone and Venom consuming ridiculous amounts of hot chocolate. It was absurd and the eerie calm was beginning to make me suspicious; I had expected... More. Threatening thugs with guns, experiments, blood tests and physical violence. Instead, the man who met with Eddie was sitting with a vacant, bored expression as he practiced card tricks in the corner furthest away from Venom.

Finally, a knock on the door forced all of us to pay attention to the newcomer. It was a tall, massively built man in his early forties. His face was covered in scars, narrow red lines that looked like small cuts; one of his eyes was completely black while the other was blue. He looked like the man at the coffee shop but at the same time, nothing like him at all.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," His voice was low and quiet. If not for the heavyweight weapon hanging over his shoulder, I would have considered him to be one of those men who only look threatening but actually are gentle giants. With steps too quiet for a man his size, he approached me, crouching down to look me in the face. "Hello, child. I've been looking for you for a long time. It's a shame we had to meet this way," He removed the strands of hair sticking to my face. For all purposes, his touch could have been considered fatherly. "Richard, bring the money." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the man who was babysitting me and Eddie and he promptly disappeared behind the steel door.

"Hello," Eddie briefly shook his hands with Cabre after the merc left me alone. I noted Venom had disappeared into the reporter's body completely. "We are Venom," Eddie introduced himself (they introduced themselves?).

"Cabre," The Merc watched my honorary uncle with a sharp eye, taking note of Eddie's lack of weapons, his worn clothes and the shaggy hair, the bags under his eyes. "Tell me, Venom, what do you know of this child?"

"Not much," Eddie shrugged, convincingly. "Just that the Avengers picked her up for some reason and locked her up in Stark's tower. We're guessing she didn't like it much 'cuz she kept sneaking out and trying to shake off the tail. Had to go through quite a few SHIELD agents to get to her," Just like we agreed, Eddie spoke with slight disdain towards Tony and SHIELD, making sure to let Cabre believe he was on the mutants' side. "We just need the money, man. Not many people will hire us," To top it up, Eddie spread his arms, showing his skin ripple and move on it's own prominently under his ratty t-shirt. Atta boy!

Cabre appeared to have bought the lie, chuffing sympathetically, before pulling out a tablet and typing on it. "Well, not for long. My superiors have found an artifact that, if unlocked properly, will render most of the technology suppressing mutant powers useless. They won't be able to get rid of us that easily anymore."

Eddie nodded eagerly, for all purposes appearing to be ecstatic about the news. "Yeah, heard some rumors here and there. Well, you and your superiors know where to find me. I could always go with some extra cash," He scratched his head, carefully watching Cabre's fingers dance on the keyboard. "What's the kid got to do with it anyway? Seems like an ordinary spoiled brat to me," Eddie threw me a look, blinking twice. The fatigue and wariness, courtesy of Venom, had begun to recede quite some time ago; with Eddie's signal, I knew the shitshow was about to start very soon.

Eddie was smart, however, finding out the bits of information SHIELD hadn't bothered to disclose to me. The residue that the cursed box had left in me was removed, so I could not understand why SHIELD was still guarding me. There had to have been another reason, a reason that neither of us knew for sure.

Cabre paused his typing. "We've been watching her for years. She's a genius. We were hoping she could help us solve a few problems..." The merc paused to rub the bridge of his nose. "We tried to get her to come willingly but her parents forbade her from it. My superiors suggested to use the artifact but something malfunctioned." For all purposes, Cabre was looking apologetic. "I am not overly fond of kidnapping children but some things just need to be done." With that, the man turned around, landing his eyes on me. "Glad to see you're up and about." Something about his smile was unnatural, forced, malicious.

"Charmed to meet you," I sat up, dazed and confused about the turn of events. The things he was saying, they didn't add up. I hadn't received any requests for my participation in ANY kind of project, illlegal or not. No scholarships, no internship offers. Something was very, very wrong.

As soon as Cabre's back was turned, Venom enveloped Eddie, turning themselves into the seven feet tall outer space monstrosity I had seen on the first day. Their combined form was terrifying - but Cabre's fingers merely twitched at the rapid change of the situation as he took slow steps towards me. "Hmm," His voice still quiet, he once again crouched in front of me. "You fought us off once but we are many. There is nowhere to run, child," Cabre's eyes began to darken, his speech turning flat.

I recognized the speech pattern, recalled the expressionless, vacant face that stared at me. Cabre was infected with the Legion from the cursed box; I hadn't prepared for that, hadn't even regarded that, thinking the little epic speech the demon had given me was a mere intimidation tactic. Fear bloomed within me, opening it's jaws like a hungry Venus flytrap but I refused to succumb to it, clenching my fists against the waves of paralyzing terror.

Venom made a confused growling noise behind me, extending a tentacle to push Cabre away; with a sickeningly wet splat, their whole form collided with the opposite wall, sliding down it like a puddle of misshapen goop. "MORSEL, GET OUT." The symbiote growled, reforming itself back.

"Silence, beast!" Cabre shrieked, unstrapping his weapon and aiming it at Venom. No bullets came out as he pressed the trigger but my ear started ringing, eyes watering as the whole form of the symbiote began to morph and ripple. Pained groans and whines came from them. A sonic gun?

"Screw you, man," I attempted to draw Cabre's attention to myself by kicking out a leg towards the gun, disrupting his arm briefly. Things were going to shit faster than a party full of teenagers and alcohol. "Fuck you, listen, FUCK YOU!" I knew antagonizing people was my best skill and that's what I did, figuring the time needed for Venom to reassemble themself could be acquired if Cabre was pissed off enough at me.

The backhand hurt, not going to lie. I saw stars from that one sloppy hit the possessed merc delivered to my face. The adrenaline rush allowed me to stay somewhat coherent and just like that time when I was trapped in my nightmares, I dove for Cabre, winding myself around him as both of us landed on the floor in a heap of limbs.

Despite my best hopes, Venom remained a puddle of black on the floor. I saw something shiny attach itself to Eddie's chest; apparently that something prevented them from combining into one again. My smaller size proved to be a great advantage; I remembered Venom's words about being a suitable short-term host and with a shriek, I placed my palm into the nearest piece of symbiote I could reach, my vision being obscured by blackness a second later.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias @warrior1-19 @toomanyrobins @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming

[incarnateirony]

So here we are, The Great Supernatural Rewatch, 01.01 Pilot. If unfamiliar with this rewatch, please check my Objectives and Bracketing post [x], and then my Methodology Notes [x]; Also, reminder that I’m not the only person doing this, though each in their own ways. My Objectives and Methodology are my own. 

I’m trying to get a little ahead of the official Jan 3 start date, since I know I will... inevitably fall behind, and this episode was ripe for the initial pick-through for the inevitability of a thousand call backs.

That said, with level  1. SYNCHRONIC: As it reads, unto itself, as best divorced from future knowledge of the story, it’s difficult to do much actual “meta” as much as review and commentary since literally it’s all character and story introductions. There’s some to be had, but beyond things like lighting, the Level 1 viewing tier is not going to lend towards much beyond basic archetypes, and a lot of mythology breakdown. This post will be heaving Level 2 weighted as a result. Most tier-1 posting is going to be an early build of key words, phrases and signs to assemble throughout the season watching (and tap back on later for tier 2 by tagging.)

Also a few unannounced side projects; I’m about to start a “Combat Counter” and “Marksmanship Counter”, to see how Sam and Dean handle both in physical battles/scraps over time compared to each other, and who has the better overall aim in the long term.

Some things saved in this post will seem random and arbitrary, but are potential flags I intend to keep, mostly for later level 2, DIACHRONIC study.

Now to get to the meat:

STUDY: REWATCH/REVIEW STAGE

Allow me to lead with: this episode even unto itself is a fine spectacle of just how much the genre shifted over time. I am a huge fan of David Nutter’s directing; many would know him from, say, Game of Thrones. He didn’t stay long--just Pilot and Wendigo--before moving on. But some of his touches stayed with the show for a few years. The entire ambiance is a giant testiment to survival-horror, a grimness to it, even if the CW itself could never truly capitalize on it. The mood and ambiance was successfully played on. The entire episode is rife with cloudy lighting beaming between bars and through windows, bold silhouette shots, and more that gives an air of mystery even after some characters are established. Dynamic shots are plenty.

Your early reading here isn’t going to tell you much you don’t already know, but is for filing, review, and even reminder/refresher purposes. As the season unfolds, there’s going to be more to interconnect, obviously. If you would like to read more observations on actual parallels, scroll to the DIACHRONIC STUDY header. If I’ve taken a screenshot, even in Synchronic, it’s because it’s a flag I do expect to come back up in diachronic study later and need to catalogue for future parallels and address.

So, imagining it’s 2005, we’re watching Supernatural for the first time. We’re in a very different world, Both in the show, and in the real world. A standard, haunting discord rattles the minds of the audience as a tree moves like a hand towards the window of a suburban home.

We see a classic, nuclear family in this standard home, saying their charming goodnights to an infant. But within moments, we’re told in every classic way that everything is wrong. The infant’s mobile turns on its own accord; the clock stops.

It’s 8:12pm when the world goes haywire. The decorative moon in the room flickers, growing dim. The mother wakes to the sound of a distressed infant on the baby monitor. She rises from bed in her gown.

This is a point I’m left to negotiate cursed knowledge: to all visual cues, the mother’s attire appears to be white. The audience perceived it as white. But we know it, and Jess’ gown later, was actually pink; the film stock failed to capture it. Both short term and much louder in the long term, these two colors can deliver two very different meanings. But for us, a viewer consuming a digital medium with no knowledge beyond what they published, I’m left to decide that the text seems to determine her in a white gown.

The wife sees a stark silhouette, asking if the child was hungry, assuming it was her husband that quieted her. She turns away, tapping on a flickering light over an old marriage portrait that one can only assume was a previous family generation. She descends the stairs.

Here she finds her husband is sleeping. Panic takes her, bringing her to the room. Quickly, chaos erupts. As does she, once seen bleeding down onto the hand of the father from above the crib. We see her, sunken eyes, already dying, screaming without a sound. Silent. Unable to make a noise.

The camera details the desperation of the father rushing his infant to his older child. “Take your brother outside as fast as you can, don’t look back. Now Dean, GO.”

I’m unclear what John thinks he’s going to achieve running back in for Mary as fire takes the home. But soon, he finds young Dean, 4, outside, holding an infant, “I've got you Sammy.” John erupts out of the house as the windows begin to blow, sweeping in to carry Dean, who carries Sam.

As the fire department arrives, the first cords of a song we would later come to recognize as Americana haunt through otherwise chilling music that climbs actively to punch out through our first cold open.

The Winchesters are our first cold open.

We find ourselves in modern day with the rick of a rock cord, and a young woman in a white nurse outfit adjusting her earings while framed by an image of John and Mary--the mother and father--in a picture frame. Though she calls for Sam, we see nothing of Dean--not even a picture. The image on the counter tells of a life Sam(my) was too young to even know, but perhaps is in his blonde-haired woman who teases him about halloween while standing in front of a mirror.

Sam is clearly in his young prime, celebrating his LSAT with a 174 score much to his chagrin with friends dressed up in all styles of wardrobe. Behind Sam a neon black cat sign may just jinx his future in warm but dull lighting; ghostly drapes hide behind Jess in a blue, sharper light.

Sam’s friends perceive he must be the Golden Boy of the family. Jess is proud of him. “What would I do without you?” “Crash and burn.”

Night onsets. Dim lighting feels dusty despite the otherwise hopeful environment. Heavy creaking, groaning, footsteps; Sam rises on instinct, spying an open door and catching haunting noises--sounds. An intruder. And one fateful fight. The choreography spares little.

In actual combat, the intruder--quickly identified as Dean--comes out on top. (Combat ticker: Sam vs Dean: Dean 1) Easy there, tiger. As Dean haunts, revealing his roguish personality quickly, he’s then gotten the better of (this is not going to be considered a combat ticker, it’s not actual combat, but aftermath).

Sam challenges why Dean broke in, but Dean knew Sam would have never picked up without him. They’re interrupted from their silhouetting by the light flicking on, and Dean further displays his roguish charm, enjoying her smurfs, not dreaming of her getting dressed; but soon, it’s down to business--Dean says it’s private family matters. Sam, a unit in the doorframe with Jess, says it can be said in front of her. Until the fateful line: “Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.” The camera zooms on Sam’s set jaw to tell the audience how much weight is in that line as the audio itself drags a raw cord of suspense.

The dizzying stairs are a descent into a world Sam seems to have left behind, with the audience viewing from below. Quickly, we’re introduced to ideas: the Poltergeist in Amherst, the Devil’s Gate in Clifton, “always missing and always fine.” Sam’s bitterness is thick: rather than telling him not to be afraid of the dark, “dad gave me a .45″, though Dean challenges what he should have done. They soon stand in a cage of sharply lit bars, arguing if this was what their mother would have wanted--to be raised like warriors.

Dean challenges if Sam would want a normal apple pie life; Sam slaps back: not normal, safe. “And that’s why you ran away.”--But John told him to stay gone. Regardless, Dean doesn’t want to do it alone. Sam asks what he was hunting, and why Dean wasn’t there; Dean was working a voodoo thing in New Orleans.

Dean reveals Jericho, California--10 men over to years on the same 5 mile stretch of road.

The “Ran it through A Goldwave” is a funny side comment but I’m not gonna get into why beyond LOL “through a goldwave”, that’s-- whatever. But we hear, in EVP, “I can never go home.”

The average viewer, at this point, isn’t going to be deeply instructing the story parallels--and in the scheme of it, Sam’s fear of going home barely scratches the meta surface. We do know John has been missing for three weeks. And find out Sam has a Monday deadline for his entry to lawschool, “whole future on a plate.” Jess worries over disappearing with his family, reminding of the deadline, but he promises to be back in time.

A sharp cut to JERICHO, CALIFORNIA. The driver shares similar concerns to Sam, “if I miss it, dad’s gonna have my ass,” he tells his girlfriend on the phone. A woman in white appears down the road as the car clock fries at 10:17, asking to be taken home. “Take me home?” “She lives at the end of breckenridge road.” “A girl like you shouldn’t really be alone out here.” She hikes her skirt. “I’m with you. Do you think I’m pretty? Will you come home with me?” hell yeah.

They arrive at a dillapidated home. “I can never go home.” No one even lives here. He steps out, turns around, and she’s gone. An eerie handprint appears on the window.

He decides to leave, clearly feeling the offsettling vibes, but isn’t alone. She steams with animosity in the backseat.

He looks into his mirror.

And wipes out.

After a violent death, we cut back to our boys and another exposition: credit card scams (jesus, could sam have yelled it any louder?), breakfast in a gas station bag, you gotta update your casette tape collection--why? because for one, they’re casette tapes. Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica--it’s the greatest hits of mullet rock. “House rules Sammy, Driver picks the music, rider shuts his cakehole.” “Sammy is a chubby 12 year old.” “What, can’t hear you.”

ENTER, JERICHO

Internal impala shots galore will end up being a major vibe of our next few years. A spunky guitar theme plays that we will eventually come to know.  Dean pulls out a cigar box full of fake badges ranging from FBI to Bureau of Tobacco from the glove box, quickly showing us how deep this path goes for them already.

The cops review the mystery: no fingerprints, spotless; we find out that the victim was dating the cop’s daughter, who was posting missing flyers downtown. The boys introduce themselves as federal agents, are challenged for being too young, and Dean sasses his way through, “that’s very kind of you.” -- while gathering basic intel, we quickly find Dean’s tongue getting ahead of him, calling their lack of ability to find a connection beyond them all being male victims, calling it crack police work. The brothers’ dual personas exit the crime scene with a cuff upside the head from Sam to Dean, a bickering match, and Dean leaving a Mulder and Scully crack on the cops.

They quickly find Amy, the girlfriend, and lie to claim that were Troy’s relatives and had heard about her, and move to a diner to talk about events.

No major unusual things to warrant events; Sam compliments her necklace. She jokes that Troy got it for her to freak out her parents for “devil stuff”, but Sam quickly educates her on the pentagram meaning the opposite, a symbol of protection.

But there are weird rumors in town--people talk. In-sync, “what do they talk about”; a local legend. She tells them of a girl murdered on centennial where anyone who picks her up disapears forever. The brothers quickly move on to a library with a clunky monitor, fully dating us; not just the lack of good cell phones and wifi, but the equipment and the appearance of the search engine alone. Right, we’re watching this in 2005. 

The brothers slapfight again, but Sam shows that even away from the life he never lost his prowess. He asks, “Angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” and searches for suicide. 1981, 24 years prior. “Our babies were gone and Constance couldn’t bear it.”

 So they go to see where Constance took the swan dive.

The brothers begin to fight.

SAM Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—

DEAN turns around.

DEAN Monday. Right. The interview.

SAM Yeah.

DEAN Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?

SAM Maybe. Why not?

DEAN Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?

SAM steps closer.

SAM No, and she's not ever going to know.

DEAN Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.

DEAN turns around and keeps walking. SAM follows.

SAM And who's that?

DEAN You're one of us.

SAM hurries to get in front of DEAN.

SAM No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.

DEAN You have a responsibility to—

SAM To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.

DEAN grabs SAM by the collar and shoves him up against the railing of the bridge. A long pause.

DEAN Don't talk about her like that.

They’re interrupted as Constance appears, diving off the cliff, and immediately taking control of the Impala.

“Dude, who’s driving your car?” Dean holds up his keys.

They flee, over the bridge, and share another movement. One more fake card later, they find themselves in John’s room, room 10, in a motel. Sam remarks that the place is covered in Salt, and Cat’s Eye Shells. The entire room is covered in case work and lore. 

I’ll break down the lore of these in a later mythos reblog, though the Asmodeus one really catches my eye for reasons outside of this episode.

Sam finds a photo-- a distinctly different family than the one on his college dresser. There, it’s John and Mary as an ideal image that framed Jessica. Here, it’s the life he walked away from. But while Dean heads out, he’s spotted by police, and their old coded dialect pops out, “Five Oh, take off.” Federal marshalls confront him: They’re looking for his partner (cue Wincest fans trying to make meta that’s about to be shot down one scene later, in the distance), fake US Marshalls, fake credit cards, is there anything about you that’s Real. My boobs.

Just putting a flag in the name Sheriff Pierce, we’ll figure out if that’s ever valid to anything later. But he tells Dean of the trouble he’s in with a room full of missing people and devil worship, for Dean to snap back he was 3 when they went missing. But they knew he had more than one partner. An older man. John’s journal is thrown out (Wincest meta dies a terrible death beyond previous scene)

Again, I’ll translate the FUTHARK in a follow up post, this is already taking a lot of time as it is.

Meanwhile, Sam is investigating the leads they and John both found. Previously spoken intents to burn her has him ask about her being buried at an old plot by Breckenridge at their old place.

SAM And why did you move?

JOSEPH I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died.

SAM stops walking. JOSEPH stops too.

SAM Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?

JOSEPH No way. Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known.

SAM So you had a happy marriage?

JOSEPH hesitates.

Putting a flag in this for later.

But Sam decides to call the man out.

SAM A woman in white. Or sometimes weeping woman?

JOSEPH just looks.

SAM It's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really.

SAM starts back toward JOSEPH.

SAM Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places, in Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women.

SAM stops in front of JOSEPH.

SAM You understand. But all share the same story.

JOSEPH Boy, I don't care much for nonsense.

JOSEPH walks away. SAM follows.

SAM See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them.

JOSEPH stops.

SAM And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.

JOSEPH turns around.

SAM Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.

JOSEPH You think...you think that has something to do with...Constance? You smartass!

SAM You tell me.

JOSEPH I mean, maybe...maybe I made some mistakes. But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here! And you don't come back!

Sam is flushed out, and makes a fake 911 call to break Dean out, pointing out that the husband had been unfaithful. More dramatic silhouette shots really capture the early spirit of the piece, with Dean using a phone booth in lieu of other options. Hell, Dean was able to find a phone booth, let that take you back. They determine that John left Jericho, and establish his ex-marine habits with the coordinates, 35-111 that Dean had lied through to the cop. But while on the phone, the woman in white appears in front of Sam on the road, non-crashing. 

She controls the car again, and forces him to drive to a broken home, repeating, “I can never go home.” Sam recognizes: “You’re scared to go home.” And that’s when the creepy ghost rapey vibes start, mounting him, demanding he hold her, she’s cold. “You can’t kill me, I’m not unfaithful.” He argues. You will be. Just hold me.

As she goes to rip out his heart, she flickers with the beat of his.

Dean breaks into the scene, unloading 12 shots into the ghost with iron bullets to disrupt her manifestation, giving Sam time to sit up and say, “I’m taking you home.”, where he drives through the house. Dean helps Sam out of the car, only to be telekinetically pinned by a dresser to be disabled.

The lights flicker again. Children manifest, water runs down the stairs, looking eerily like the light could be the Winchester’s old home

Here, she falls when reunited with her children. Sam clarifies--she could never go home, she was too afraid to face her kids (while not viable for the synchronic study, for my own sanity I’m going to note this season, Home will be all but mandatory to touch back here.) Dean says Sam found her weak spot.

They drive down the road with a blown headlight, Sam using an old map and ruler to locate the coordinates. But it’s realized Sam isn’t going with Dean to blackwater ridge, colorado 600 miles away. His interview was in ten hours. Dean declares, “I’ll take you home.”

There’s banter over meeting up later, and being a good team, but Sam goes inside and calls for Jess. “You home?” He finds a plate full of cookies with a note “missed you, love you” and relaxes in bed with the distant sound of a running shower.

And of course.

And so it began.

SYNCHRONIC STUDY: IN-EPISODE PARALLELS

In a first episode, there’s only so much to address. While we may question how much the Woman in White being in White may have been intentional with Jess and Mary, who wore pink (a diachronic full text body note later), in the initial review, it’s worth mentioning for the reasons in part 1 I’ve decided to air towards white in the final text product. Resultingly, the tie between Constance->Mary->Jess seems tangible. But it isn’t really so simple.

“Home.” Home is a huge keyword.

"I can never go home."  within the episode unto itself, Sam is struggling to well, get back home. And frankly, returning home is the key of it. (hears distant uppity Wincest stans) The difference here is, this isn't a direct parallel, of course, as much as a general ambient mood that will haunt is forward through the show, even if current viewers just watching episode 1 don't recognize it yet. Sam going home kills Jess, essentially; or at least witnesses her death. At the same time, Sam fears returning to the hunter life, or more doesn't think he can because John told him not to come back. But now that Jess is dead, well, Sam can never go home to the life he was building. He has no choice but TO go back to the other home--the hunter life. Even if he’s certain it’s not what Mary would have wanted for them.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: IN-SEASON PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

There’s no way I’ll have them all in mind, these are just what are flagging me along the way.

1.09 Home As the “Home” rewatch is not that far away, I’m going to save this as a placeholder with general notes about “Mary apologizing to Sam,” even if frankly, she should have to Dean too. But even if, at the time, the exact details of the deal may or may not have been established or hashed out by the authors--we’re not picking at arguing if the authors intended it or not here. Here, Mary apologizes for her deal. Here, Mary apologizes--for drowning her children. For magnetizing this poltergeist to this place that she demands let her sons go, where she forces the spook to let go of Sam. She couldn’t really go home in the truest sense until that passed. (I’ll have deeper chain-link connections on this looking-forward once actually at the episode.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: IN-ERA PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

They’re here, but not pinging me at 1 AM beyond vagueblogging about Lucifer showing up as Jess to haunt Sam and the inevitable time travel episodes about Mary, so placeholder for later updates.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: BEYOND-ERA PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

Obviously compare to above-dropped screenshots.

11.04: Mistakes were made.

Listen, Dean’s grimace seat has been in discussion lately, don’t blame me for thinking of Joseph’s mistakes right after the season as Dean-mirror Pastor Joseph. Funny how Sam’s get shown and Dean’s don’t.

11.23/12.01: Mary’s return in the (white or pink, I’m rolling with white as-above) gown, and all extending details.

12.22: Mary's dreamspace.

12.23: Dean, Castiel's death, Sam removing Dean

15.01: Woman In White, We've got work to do

I feel like the Woman in White is the most interesting of these that hasn’t been as talked to death as, say, the 12.23 elements with the Destiel parallel. After all, the Woman in White largely focused on Sam. It was his fear of home. It was him being faithful to Jess (and being unfaithful can be more than sex, really; after all, he made a promise to come back.) But in season 15, it’s Dean that the ghost of the jilted lover approaches, shortly after Dean nearly killed Jack in his pain. Was Dean the weeping woman? Or was Castiel? Who held the animosity in the back seat?

Or is this a shared path? As Dean puts the Equalizer away under the Cigar Box, he has his own haunting issues in the mirror.

Those will be addressed more deeply when we get to that episode in like half a year. But for now, I’m just putting a pin in it. With a side scribble of “Cas got his Secrets/Mary, Sam got his serial killer and clowns and Dean got... the woman in white with Belphegor.”

15.02: Road Closed

15.03: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink, Rowena’s dress upon wedding and unbirthing to death (and queendom)

15.04: I still think about Jess (shortly before Eileen’s return.)

15.13: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink, atop the eventually-addressed meaning of lighting (death and transformation) vs the Empress symbolism (fertility, rebirth), Castiel in pink light.

15.15: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink. Amara’s trenchcoat.

15.20: Beyond the obvious quotes, and the (IMO failed) attempt at nostalgia, there’s honestly very little callback to the original episode. 

That’s it on first glance, I’m sure more will rattle out as we go forward. Well, mostly. Keys to the Legacy from Mint Condition is flagging me alongside control mechanisms like Castiel losing control of his vessel. But those are thoughts to put pins in for now and develop later.

COMBAT COUNTER:

DEAN VICTORIES: 1 (sam vs Dean)

MARKSMANSHIP COUNTER:

DEAN SHOTS: 12 shots, 12 hits.

(hits for any individual will be considered accurate even if targets teleport/flicker out as long as it should have hit the body)

The mythology pasted all around John’s Room is worth a second trip, but off the top of my head I see the Bell Witch and Asmodeus from the Lesser Key of Solomon (near the motel door).

I’ll reblog later to add commentary on that.

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 3

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 - Mortuary

There were always one or two friends in your life who you're never afraid will scold you or hang up on you in the early morning hours, even if the reason is because you had a nightmare about potatoes in your home growing lots of hair. Yin Zhou was this person to Lin Yan. He had two long strands of messy hair on his head, always wore unwashed shirts, and the eyes under his glasses could never focus because of how long he had spent gaming.

They grew up in the same neighbourhood, attended the same elementary school, middle school and high school, and they were each that "brilliant other child" in the eyes of both their parents. Since childhood, Lin Yan, regardless of how hard he worked, achieved the high grades that Yin Zhou could have achieved if he didn't skip class every day. No matter how good his grades were, his parents would praise Lin Yan for his diligent and hard work. After the college entrance exam, the two drank a glass of wine as a farewell and celebrated them parting ways. Unexpectedly, Yin Zhou missed half a page of questions while writing the math papers, but he still went to the same university as Lin Yan, so almost two. So the friendship continued with the constant cycle of loving and hating each other.

Later, they were divided by their majors. Yin Zhou studied electronics and Lin Yan studied history. From then on, there was little crossover with the two majors. Without the pressure of competition, the two of them became much closer, playing games, flirting with girls, talking about politics; there was no end to their activities.

The 'regular place' referred to the bar.

When Lin Yan walked in, he saw Yin Zhou shooting his shot with a girl at the bar unsuccessfully. Lin Yan called his name several times before he turned around. Yin Zhou opened a bottle of beer and his eyes widened: " Yo, you weren't responding to any of my calls or texts. Were you on a date?"

Lin Yan drank half the bottle in single breath, and said calmly, "I've got lost and was going around in circles."

"Got lost?!" Yin Zhou stared at him for a long time. Seeing that Lin Yan wasn't joking, he couldn't help but smile and said, "Are you feeling alright? If you're feeling sick, let this brother take you to the hospital."

Lin Yan was in a weird mood because of all the strange events that had happened. Now, his voice wasn't very strong either. He simply put down the beer bottle, put his hands on the table, raised his voice and shouted into Yin Zhou's ears: "I! Saw! A! Ghost!!"

His voice was so loud that most of the people at the bar heard him. They turned to look at him like he was crazy.

Yin Zhou hid his face behind his hand and muttered about how embarrassing it was. After thinking about it, he raised his head and said with a dazed expression: "Was it a female ghost? Was it pretty?"

Lin Yan was at a loss for words and the muscles on his face twitched.

Then Lin Yan explained all the night's occurrences to Yin Zhou in extreme detail, but he started regretting it halfway through. Yin Zhou obviously was eating it up, and a pair of unfocused eyes were shining with an excitement that couldn't be matched in ten thousand years. He rubbed his hands together and stammered when he heard the section of the figure under the street light: "This is too unscientific, or maybe it's too scientific. I'll apply to use one of the labs tomorrow, maybe I can figure this out!"

Lin Yan wanted to smash the beer bottle on his head.

"You seem busy, I'll head out first."

Yin Zhou caught him before he walked away and scratched his head: "Alright, alright. I'm just kidding. Have a drink first and we can go back to my place afterwards."

"Let's be optimistic. If that thing is a guy, then you've got to get rid of him immediately. If it's a woman, then she should definitely get down on her knees to see what is under your jeans."

Lin Yan was actually very grateful to him when he drove Yin Zhou all the way to his house. He thought that unreliable people would have unreliable benefits. No matter how weird things were, he would really listen to them, but he immediately regretted it once they reached his apartment. The reason was simple: Yin Zhou's room was dirty and no living person would ever be found in this room.

The sight that Lin Yan was faced with when he stepped in the door made him scream inside. It's better to go home and be scared to death by ghosts. God only knows how he lives like this. It was a 10-square metre rental with rubbish and clothes littering the floor. There were mountains of instant noodle boxes on the table. Some of them were being used as ashtrays and there were cigarette butts floating in the murky soup. He had no idea how long they were left there, but they were exuded a rancid smell.

The laptop was thrown on the bed, and there was a line of characters moving across the screen. Yin Zhou rushed to take a look, and groaned: "It's been going on repeatedly. The program has to be changed." After he was done talking, he didn't pay any more attention to Lin Yan. He leaned against the headboard, flipping through his notebook and clicked to stop debugging, tapping on his keyboard with his long fingers.

"There is food in the cupboard. If you get hungry, grab something to eat."

Lin Yan opened the cabinet and inspected Yin Zhou’s selection. Various brands of instant noodles, rice vermicelli, pickled mustard greens, a large number of ham sausages that were about to expire. . . If this guy croaks one day, the number of preservatives in him would help him survive for at least thirty more years. If ancient people had eaten things like this, it could've saved conservation historians so much time.

"Do you have any clean clothes? Mine are soaked from the rain. Could you lend me some dry clothes first."

"There's some on the ground. Grab those."

After feeling Lin Yan's murderous glare, Yin Zhou reluctantly got up and slowly opened the wicker basket at the foot of his bed: "Yes, yes, my mother comes to wash my clothes once a week, and the clean ones are here."

After speaking, he threw him a graphic t-shirt.

"You earn so much from your projects yet you live in such a shabby place. You don't even own a washing machine, and that quality of life is catching up with you. Aren't you afraid that your arrogant old man won't give you money to marry a wife in the future? Lin Yan took off his shirt, stretched the t-shirt over his head and put it on. With the shirt over his head, he asked in a muffled voice: "Help me find a pair of pants."

Yin Zhou threw his hands up and said with disdain: "You're being so picky. A person uses so much stuff when they are alive but when they're dead, they only need a coffin. Why are you being so particular about this?" After finishing speaking, Yu Guang looked at Lin Yan with a smirk. : "Xiao Linzi's figure is good, the fitness card is not for nothing."

He glanced at Lin Yan with his peripheral vision and gave a sly smirk: "Little Brother Lin is in good shape, your gym membership wasn't bought in vain."

"Don't you dare call me Little Brother Lin, I'll show you want a real man is!" Lin Yan picked up the electric kettle that was thrown by the bed, wiped off the ashes, and smacked his lips.

Lin Yan picked up the electric kettle that was thrown near the bed, wiped off a handful of cigarette ashes, and smacked his lips.

"Disgusting."

Yin Zhou ignored him and spoke to himself as he flipped through his suitcase. "I remember I had a pair of new jeans, where are they going. . . Huh? What's this? Did my mother leave her clothes in here?"

This was. . .

The body was made of red satin, black lining, with loose sleeves that hung down, and there was heavy embroidery around the wrists. Yin Zhou shook it out curiously. Just as he was about to hold it up to compare it to his body, Lin Yan cried out: "Put that down, don't touch it!"

Looking at Lin Yan's pale face, Yin Zhou also noticed that something was wrong, so he threw the red clothes on the bed.

"These are mortuary clothes. It's for the dead." Lin Yan said weakly.

Yin Zhou's face also changed.

"This thing doesn't belong here."

Yin Zhou looked around his room, as if to relieve the nervous atmosphere, he laughed twice: "Is it wrong? How about I call my mother and ask if she left it."

Yin Zhou looked around his room. Trying to break the tense atmosphere, he laughed twice: "Was this a mistake? How about I call my mother and ask if she put it in here?"

Lin Yan looked at the clothes and said dejectedly: "No need, I believe you."

He was getting angry, thinking that this thing was trying to provoke him no matter what, and now it was involving his friend. He was clearly trying to get a reaction out of him.

For a while, both of them were speechless. The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Under the light of the bright light, the red clothes were laid straight out on the bed like paper. Despite its bright colour, it was gloomy and had a terrifying appearance. The ancient style and the luxurious fabrics exuded such a cold atmosphere that it was like the sun had never touched it.

Ten minutes later.

Lin Yan picked up the car key on the table. He sighed and said to Yin Zhou: "I'm going back home. This thing is coming after me, staying here will only hurt you."

Yin Zhou spat out: "Don't give me that bullshit. It would be stupid to go back by yourself, just stay here."

What Lin Yan wanted to say was interrupted by Yin Zhou: "We're close enough that you're wearing my pants. Won't I be the one that will have to explain what happened to your parents if there's an accident? Don't mess with me. We'll talk about this in the morning."

After talking, yin Zhou searched under the bed for a while. He found another notebook and handed it to Lin Yan: "Do you think a ghost would be able to scare us to death? Hurry up, let's get some kills on Dota!"

Lin Yan was silent for a while, opened his notebook, and said with a smile: "You asked for it, I won't go easy on you!"

The light flickered and dimmed, and the room became more and more gloomy. Lin Yan knew instinctively that something was staring at him somewhere in the room. Maybe it had a pale face, wrapped in a red mortuary, and said sorrowfully: Your death is approaching.

This must be the weirdest night in his 22 years of life, Lin Yan thought. Once the sky begins to get bright, things will be over by dawn.

The red mortuary was like a long, stiff corpse lying on the bed, the sleeves folded across the front as if to remind him that this was only the beginning.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #441

“all alone, he turns to stone while holding his breath after death  /  terrified of what’s inside, to save his life he crawls like a worm from a bird”

Have you ever watched a movie in class/school that made you cry? Yep, a few. What’s the earliest you could go to bed at night and feel okay about? If I'm having a really bad day, I can tolerate as early as 7:00. :x What is you favorite type of lunch meat? Honey ham, probably. What time of the year do you dislike the most? Summer is disgusting. It's too hot, too humid, too many bugs, and I just hate it. Do you put ketchup on your scrambled eggs? No, that sounds gross. What is your favorite color to wear? b l a c k Are you an overachiever? Oh, hunny. What physical feature do you wish you had (i.e. freckles, curly hair)? Maybe uhhhh big eyes. What fictional character (i.e. Bambi, Scarlette O'hara) would you marry? Darkiplier bc he is merely a misunderstood soft boi. How long have you gone without shaving (girls- legs, armpits; boys- faces)? Legs: It's been nearly a year. Pits: not that long, considering I shave them every time I get in the shower. What is the meanest thing you have ever said to someone else? I'm sure it would be something in one of the letters I sent Jason. Or Dad. Idk. Did you ever go through a phase where you wrote bad poetry? The phase never ended lmao. What is your favorite thing about your life? My loved ones. Save all the animals that die during road kill or save 1 human from a fire? Sorry, but I'm picking the animals. Have you ever painted a picture of somebody? Yes. How many real bfs/gfs have you had? Two. Did you enjoy your past relationships? Yes. Except for when I was with Tyler. Name a comedy that you like. White Chicks. Could you wait until marriage for sex? Yeah. What’s the best Nirvana song? I'm not sure, really... Maybe "Drain You?" What was the last thing that impressed you? No clue. When was the last time you were in a pet store? Several months ago when I went in to get more rats for Venus. What nationality is your last name? Irish. What’s your favorite kind of chips and dip? Plain, rippled Lays in French onion dip. Who was the last boy that you saw cry? I don't know, actually. It may have been Sara's dad, which was years ago. Does your mom know you do surveys? I mean no, it's not like it's come up in conversation. Have you ever had a serious injury? When I was a kid, there was this one time I was running down the road with my friend, and I tripped; I was a fast runner, so I skinned the everliving FUCK out of my knees to the point there was even pus. I was SOBBING, and it took weeks to heal; I had the scars for years. What was the last thing you achieved? Losing weight at the gymmmm. Staying dedicated to going. Would you enjoy being famous? No. I couldn't take all the eyes on me and even ONE person's negative judgment. What’s under your bed? A big box of my art supplies. Do you enjoy travelling? Yeah. I wish I could do it more. Have you ever belonged to a club? If so, what was it? No. When was the last time you drank strawberry milk? Not since I first tried it at elementary school. It was absolutely disgusting. Have you ever managed to collect all the fast food toys in a set? I doubt it. Do you have a clock in your room? No. Did you have a good driver’s ED teacher? No. If I'd listened to him while driving, I could've gotten myself killed while merging onto the highway. People are assholes and didn't want to move over. Which of Britney Spears’ songs is your favorite? Probably "Freakshow." Does mind over matter work for you? Not usually, no. Are you paranoid? Oh yes. What is the best thing about winter? Everything!!! Literally the only BAD thing about winter is the dry skin/lips. I love the cold, Christmas and all that comes with it, the decor, hot chocolate, snow, getting all cuddly... Everything. :') Have you ever been truly in love? Absolutely. Are you currently planning a trip? No. A trip to Illinois is just a wish right now. How many plants are in your home? None, I think? What is your favorite possession? Excluding my pets (because I don't like calling them "possessions"), probably my laptop. Have you ever felt like you were too nice and way too often overlooked? I have before, yes. What movies have tripped you out? Off the top of my head, the only entertainment media in general that has ever truly "tripped me out" was the first time I played the Silent Hill game. The movie didn't affect me to that level because I already understood the concept. When I watched Jason play it for the first time, I was SO confused and just blown away by the concept that I did loads of research and just thinking about it all. That franchise is just cool as shit, okay. Did you rollerblade as a kid? Do you still rollerblade? I LOVED rollerblading. I haven't done it in years, though. Would you ever settle into a relationship that wasn’t right for you? Do you know friends who are in relationships just so they have someone to sleep with at night? NO. I will NOT settle. Being genuinely in love with my partner is too important to me for me to ever do so. I don't know if any of my friends are in that situation. Would you take a dirty picture of yourself for someone you are dating? With my current body? FUCK no. If I was happy with my body, the answer is still probably no. I'm too self-conscious and awkward with that kind of stuff, and besides, I really don't think I want a picture like that to exist of myself to avoid potential trouble. Do you use earplugs or a sleeping mask when you sleep? No. What summertime treats do you love? We have this local slushy place that is FUCKING BOMB. It may sound basic, but they have SUCH a vast variety of flavors and goodies you can top it with that it's truly just so amazing. How picky are you when it comes to choosing who to kiss or not kiss? I am VERY picky. I have to be really interested in you. Save for how things were with Tyler... I just felt like I was supposed to. What do you hate most about moving? I. Hate. The process. Of moving. It is just so, so stressful to me. I have a very hard time confronting big tasks, and that's exactly what packing and unpacking entails. Do you feel that having sex anywhere but a bed is more exciting? Not necessarily. Do you drink 5 hour energy drinks or any other kinds of energy drinks? No. Has anyone ever whistled at you? I don't think so. Do you like scarves? No. Is your father homophobic? Possibly. I don't actually know. I honestly don't think he took Sara's and my relationship seriously, so that may be a sign. Do you take gummy vitamins? The only vitamin I take now is vitamin D, which isn't a gummy. Have you ever applied make-up on a guy, for any reason at all? Ha, yeah. I gave Jason a makeover once. Who would you like to meet before you die? MARK. I am so determined, alsdjfkaj;wek;rj. I just want to hug him and say thank you and ugly-cry. If your dream was to be a model, and a big opportunity came up, but you had to be nude, would you take it? No. Even if I had the body of a model. What’s the most ridiculous conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of? The fuckin' flat earth theory, probably. If Heaven and Hell exists, where you going when you die? Well, considering I have an, uh, very negative opinion of the Christian god... Who is the person that you are afraid of losing, above everyone else? My mom. The day she passes is a day I am inexplicably horrified of. What is one thing that pisses you off pretty much everyday? My life. If there anyone you know that you feel should consider therapy? My mom really could use it. Do you like any of the songs on Twilight, or the actual movie/saga itself? I love "Supermassive Black Hole" by Muse, but idk if it was actually written for the movie. How old was the first person you kissed? He was 18 when we first kissed. Will you be a strict parent one day? I never want to be a parent. If I hypothetically became one, I don't think I'd be strict, necessarily, but very protective. Last person to stand up for you? Probably Mom, idk. Have you been to a baby shower? Yeah, a few. Who were you with the last time you went to the movie theater? My dad. What’s your favorite high school memory? Just... a lot with Jason. Do you like relationships, or do you prefer to be single? I prefer being in a (healthy) relationship, but I won't get into one just for the sake of having one. What is one adventurous thing you’d be willing to do? Hmmm... scuba-dive, maybe? What subject at school did you absolutely hate? Math. Italian food or Chinese food? Italian. I don't really like (most) Chinese food. Do you like to make flash cards when you study? I rarely did that. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a good singer? Yes, somehow. Do you ever watch TED talks, live or online? No. I dare you to write the name of a person you strongly dislike. Ashley. What do you think about Marilyn Manson? He's one of my favorite musical artists, but he's a disgusting dick personally. Biggest trouble you’ve ever gotten into at school? Nothing, really. I was a very well-behaved kid. Do you own one of those “professional” DSLR cameras? Yeah, I have a Canon. Does it bother you when you see a 6th grader with a bunch of gadgets? No. Did you buy yearbooks every year in high school, or did you not bother? Not every year, but most. Do you have Restless Legs Syndrome? No. Jalapeños: yay or nay? I loooove them. Did you ever play Minecraft? Nah. My niece is getting into it. Did you ever have a Club Penguin account? Were you a member? I did have one. I wasn't one of those premium members or anything like that; I just had a basic account. Do you know anyone that seems to not have any common sense? Bitch me. It's extremely embarrassing. I 100% got it from my dad. What do you think is the biggest injustice that was ever done to you? The manner through which Jason broke up with me. It left me traumatized. What type of person angers you the most? Abusive people that think only they matter and have no consideration for how their actions affect other people. If you could change your appearance, how would you alter it? I'd lose a shitload of weight, for one. My teeth would be whiter, my eyes bigger and bluer, I'd want my hair colored/able to hold color far better, I'd lighten and lessen my body hair, make my skin clearer, thin my eyebrows... I'd change a lot. What are your feelings on feminism? MANDATORY. Absolutely necessary in a misogynistic society. However, I do believe some people take it way too far to a point it is anti-man and puts women on a holy pedestal. It is about equality. Describe your first relationship? Perfect, until it wasn't. Describe your last relationship? Wonderful and healthy, but distance and our health were issues at the time. Can you honestly say that you always practice safe sex? My history with sex is confusing and complicated and I really don't know. Why do you think your most favorite film touches you so deeply? Thinking about it... it's probably because of how Simba runs from his problems and bad memories, but returns to confront them and is victorious. That's how I want to be. What do you want people you meet for the first time to think about you? That I'm nice and clearly sincerely cared about them and their feelings. Do you feel protective over someone? My sisters, nieces and nephews, Sara... What perfume/cologne do you wear? It's called "Blush." Where did your vehicle come from? I don't have my own, but Mom's came from a girl at the dance studio. She ran into a deer, and the front got fucked up, but the sweetheart paid to fix it up to being operable so Mom had her own car. The front bumper is kept intact with zip ties and duct tape, but hey... it works and has for many, many years now, lol. What was the color of the bridesmaid dresses of the last wedding you went to? Ummmm... I actually don't remember. What is your favorite way to eat chicken? As tenders, probably. It is your birthday. You hope the cake is: Red velvet. This year for my bday, our controlling-as-fuck family friend bought me my birthday cake without consulting ANYBODY, and I was so fucking annoyed. It was a very kind gesture, yes, but um, can I have a say, please? What do you wear to bed? Usually men's pj pants and a tank top. What were you doing at 8pm last night? Sleeping, actually. I was extremely tired and went to bed early.

[slashhinginghasher]

Closet Space - Jesse Cromeans x Marena Polunochnaya

Self-indulgent college AU? Self-indulgent college AU.

College senior Jesse Cromeans makes out with a hot international student at a frat party.

-

Jesse Cromeans and Caitlin Spann didn’t often go to frat parties anymore. The connections they’d gathered over the course of four years of business internships were enough to gain them access to real parties, not the desperate orgies of cheap sex and cheaper beer their peers engaged in. The Incident in their junior year also left Jesse reluctant to show his newly scarred face more than absolutely necessary. (Watching CEOs do lines of coke off of strippers’ tits in the hopes of getting a few business cards by the end of the night was necessary. Beer pong was not.) He’d made lots of excuses in that regard, and Spann was good enough not to call him out on it. But winter term was over, they’d both received their early acceptances from the Stanford School of Business, and tonight they felt like celebrating on somebody else’s dime.

They still made sure to choose one of the more monied fraternities. They did have standards, after all.

Old money or not, the inside of the frat house was still chaos. There was a massive, professionally decorated Christmas tree in the living room, which would be largely stripped of its ornaments and tinsel by drunk college kids come morning. Many of the girls had their tits out despite the winter chill, lots of skimpy, crushed velvet dresses and coquettish faux fur trim. Jesse was bombarded with greetings as soon as they walked through the door, and he fielded them with quickly waning patience as Spann drifted off to go do Spann things. He’d achieved a somewhat legendary status on campus after turning a first year stock market exercise into millions of real dollars. Spann had been his partner on that project, but she was perfectly content to take her cut of the money and leave the credit to him. She preferred to work in the background, claiming she got more done when she didn’t have to deal with the interpersonal bullshit politics that Jesse navigated so well.

He eventually wound up in the kitchen, where a steady stream of party-goers helped themselves to overpriced snacks (who put out charcuterie boards at a frat party, honestly?) and mixed half-assed cocktails that were 10% mixer at best. A couple groped at each other next to the pantry, and a short girl with dark, wild hair and an intense expression surveyed the stream of human traffic over the rim of a red solo cup. Jesse poured himself another whiskey and leaned against the island next to her.

PLANNING A MURDER?

The girl jumped slightly at the sound of his phone’s electronic voice, then glanced at him with startlingly blue eyes. She scoffed and took a swig of what looked like water or straight vodka.

“Just contemplating, not planning.” Her voice was lower than Jesse expected from someone her size, with a thick Eastern European accent. His lips twitched with a smile. He did always like them sharp, and a good chase was just what he needed tonight.

YOU DON’T SEEM TO BE ENJOYING YOURSELF.

“I’m not.”

THEN WHY COME?

“I’m fucking poor, and there’s free food.” As if to make a point, she turned around and started rummaging through the fridge like she owned the place. Jesse found himself at a loss for words, a laugh stuck halfway between his chest and his throat.

IF YOU’RE THAT POOR HOW DO YOU AFFORD THIS PLACE?

Jesse and Spann would graduate debt-free thanks to their stock market exploits, but the tuition at their university was… hefty, to say the least. He imagined it would be even worse for an international student.

“They gave me a lot of money because I am very sad orphan girl. And I am also devastatingly sexy,” she said, emerging from the fridge and shoving half a slice of pizza into her mouth in one bite. She flashed him a peace sign that somehow managed to be blisteringly sarcastic and sauntered away with her prize.

She was wearing a heavy plaid skirt that hit mid-calf, her black top looked like it had been run through a woodchipper and reassembled with safety pins, and she was eating stolen pizza straight out of the box.

Jesse wholly agreed with her self-assessment. The sexy part, at least.

***

He was still thinking about her an hour later when Spann sidled up on her platform stilettos, her balance impeccable despite her obvious intoxication.

“There’s a group of loudmouths gathering ‘round the pool table in the basement,” she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder. “You in a betting mood?”

“A hunting mood,” he signed.

“Ooooh.” She waggled her eyebrows dramatically. “Got your sights set on anyone?”

“I might.”

Most people thought Spann and Jesse were an item just because they lived together and spent almost every public moment attached at the hip. Which were pretty good reasons, when one thought about it. But Spann was largely a commitment girl, and Jesse was decidedly not. Spann didn’t want to be a metaphorical notch on a bedpost; Jesse didn’t want to be tied down. They’d made out once as an experiment at the end of their freshman year, then hashed out the boundaries of their relationship in a five-minute conversation that they’d followed ever since.

Jesse had no idea why other people had to make relationships so damn complicated.

Before Spann could convince Jesse to come watch her annihilate some frat boys at pool, the fraternity president approached them. He was a douchebag of the highest order - the type of guy who insisted on being addressed by his last name because his first name was Edwin or Briggsley or some other rich prick idiocy - and Jesse and Spann both hated him, but his obscenely wealthy father would be a useful business contact in the future, so they forced themselves to be cordial.

“Some of the girls are organizing a game of Truth or Dare in the den. You feeling bold, Caitlin?” he asked with a cocky grin. He was also the sort of douchebag who addressed all women by their first name, including his professors and women like Spann who could break his spine over their knee.

“No, thank you,” Spann said, cold and sweet as ice cream. “I finished high school years ago.” He laughed, the insult and the rejection rolling harmlessly off his shiny money veneer, and turned to Jesse.

“How about you, Cromeans?” Jesse was on the verge of saying no when he saw a mane of black hair being led, somewhat reluctantly, towards the small crowd gathering in the den. He shrugged with practiced nonchalance and held up his phone.

SURE, WHY THE FUCK NOT?

“Atta boy!” President Edwin Briggsley Douchebag III clapped him on the shoulder, and Jesse had to force himself not to break the twat’s hand. The other boy left to continue his rounds, recruiting anything with a pair of tits for his little game. Spann - god damn her fucking eagle eyes - had tracked Jesse’s gaze and was now grinning deviously.

“I heard she has sessions with Malloy every other week,” she whispered in his ear, referring to one of the lead staff at the university’s mental health clinic. “Condition of her enrollment.”

Now that was interesting.

“Happy hunting,” she cackled, elbowing him playfully in the ribs. “I’m off to make some rich boys cry.”

***

People were so dreadfully predictable, Jesse thought. Nearly ten people in and not a hint of creativity to be found. People who chose Truth were asked to recount their sexual history or most embarrassing moments; those who picked Dare were promptly relieved of articles of clothing. The object of his momentary obsession appeared to be having similar thoughts as she watched the proceedings with heavy-lidded boredom. The crowd booed as one of the boys dared a girl to kiss him and she threw herself at him with great enthusiasm.

“That’s not a real dare, you’re her fucking boyfriend!” someone protested. The girl stuck her tongue out at them, then shoved it back in her boyfriend’s mouth. There were more jeers and whistles and a few calls for them to get a room. One of the boys tried to get back everyone’s attention.

“Alright, alright, whatever, next victim!” He pointed at Jesse’s girl and trailed off, apparently realizing he didn’t know her name.

“Mareeeennnnaaaaa!” cooed the girl who’d roped her in to the game, dragging the vowels out in a drunken sing-song.

“Marena!” the boy announced. Marena quirked a brow, apparently unimpressed with his pronunciation. “Truth or dare!”

“Dare,” she said with zero hesitation. The boy honest to god rubbed his hands together and grinned like he was about to say something genius.

“Twenty minutes in heaven.” Not that genius, then. He grabbed the closest empty beer bottle and held it up with two fingers. “Spin the bottle and whoever it lands on gets locked in a closet with you for twenty minutes.”

Like hell was Jesse going to let one of these dumb fucks get her alone for even one minute.

“I thought it was normally seven minutes.”

“Are you backing out?” Marena flipped him off as an answer and snatched the bottle from him, sending it spinning with an elegant flick of her fingers.

She had a few whitish scars on her hand and wrist, barely visible in the low light.

Jesse tensed as the bottle slowed, frantically thinking up reasons to start a fight with whoever it landed on. But his efforts were unnecessary, because the universe and physics were on his side that night. The crowd erupted into a clamor of hoots and hollers like someone had just won the lottery. None of them had really expected Jesse to participate; he had connections and status and thus was too cool to be anything more than a silent watcher. President Douchebag ushered the pair to the nearest closet - a walk-in (fortunately for Jesse’s long limbs) that had been converted to a coat room for the night - leering at Jesse like they were good buddies who’d discuss the relative merits of European pussy over drinks later. Jesse ignored him and, ever the gentleman, gestured Marena in before him with a little half bow. Her head barely reached his chest as she passed him wordlessly; she was only a little taller than Spann and she was wearing flats. The door was shut and they were plunged into darkness, the sounds of the party muffled by the thick wood.

A few seconds of quiet stillness passed before Marena turned on her phone (which was at least three models out of date), using the light from the (cracked) screen as a flashlight. She looked ghostly in the faint, bluish light, the shadows deepened in the hollows of her eye sockets. Jesse leaned back against the door and folded his arms as she started a slow circuit of the tiny room, observing the winter jackets twisted haphazardly on every available hanger and piled in the corners on the floor. He would have loved to immediately start making use of his twenty minutes, but there was something animal and twitchy about the way she moved that made him think that any sudden moves would be met with teeth. She did not look at him, or at the way his posture and shirt emphasized the size of his biceps, which he didn’t like, and he really didn’t like the tension creeping into her slender shoulders. When he touched her arm to get her attention, she jolted as though shot.

YOU GOOD?

The amount of time she spent mulling over the question was a clear enough “no”, but she still answered anyway.

“The last time I was locked in a closet was… unpleasant.”

UNPLEASANT IN WHAT WAY?

Thoughts of high school boys with beer breath and over-insistent hands were filling him with a slow rage.

“In a ‘listening to someone be violently murdered outside the door’ way.”

Well, damn. Okay.

WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SOMETHING?

“You ask a lot of questions,” Marena snapped.

I CAN DISTRACT YOU ANOTHER WAY IF YOU LIKE.

She resumed her pacing, chewing her lip, but she looked more contemplative than tense. Jesse was acutely aware of the ticking clock.

“When did you lose your voice?”

I NEVER HAD ONE.

“What happened to your face?”

NOW WHO’S ASKING TOO MANY QUESTIONS?

“Answer it and you can distract me however you want.”

He didn’t need a business degree to know that he was being offered a fantastic fucking deal.

I PICKED A FIGHT WITH THE WRONG PERSON.

Jesse barely waited for the electronic voice to finish the last syllable before tossing his phone to the floor and charging her. He burrowed both hands into that black mass of hair and crushed his lips to hers like a starving man. Her skin was cool, but he felt her hands like brands through his shirt when she placed them against his chest for balance. He tightened his grip on her hair, hard enough to pull slightly on her scalp, and let one hand wander lower, fingertips catching on safety pins and ripped fabric as he made his way down to the modest curve of her ass. In turn, her touch moved upwards, exploring the muscles of his chest and shoulders, sliding up his neck until her thumbs rested firmly over his jugular. It was a bold move, dominant, and he wanted - needed - to get closer to her, to press her body against his in a way their height difference would not currently allow.

Marena wrapped her legs around him with no coaxing when he picked her up by the waist, walking forwards until her back pressed flat against the door. She was so light, like a little hollow-boned bird, and if he’d had a little more blood in his brain he’d be worried about crushing her. As it was, his blood was rapidly migrating south and the only thing he was concerned about was the taste of her as he nibbled on her full lower lip. He nipped at her, hard enough to sting, then soothed the hurt with his tongue, and was surprised when her tongue darted forward to meet his. He rolled his hips into hers, slow and deep, as he explored her mouth, wishing there was less clothing in the way. His cock was pressed painfully against his zipper, but he made no move to free it; he was not going to fuck her for the first time under a time constraint.

Finally, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers as they both panted for air. Jesse shoved a hand up Marena’s shirt, closing over her small breast and rubbing his thumb against the hardening nub of her nipple through her bra. Her head rolled back against the door with a soft thunk, granting him access to the soft skin of her throat. He latched onto her pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and Marena purred. The sound shot straight to his groin, and he had a sudden, intense desire to bite down until the salty warmth of her blood filled his mouth and dripped down his chin.

He wrenched back. Jesse was no stranger to violent impulses - had even followed through on quite a few of them - but he didn’t want to ruin the evening by murdering this girl in a closet. Undeterred, Marena grabbed his head with both hands and attacked his mouth with hers. She kissed him ferociously, voraciously, a clash of teeth and tongue, and when she bit his lip hard enough to make him bleed, he almost came on the spot. His hands were all over her, needing to feel every inch of her body but barely registering the ridges of scar tissue they encountered. She slid her hands into his back pockets and pulled him in until his pelvis was flush against hers. He leaned in with his full weight, and the only thing in the world that existed was the heavy grind of his hips against hers and the hot, wet dance of their mouths.

He was so close to saying fuck it, ripping her clothes off and going to town right there on the closet floor, when someone pounded on the door.

“Knock knock, Cromeans! Put your dick away!” Jesse snarled, already planning a way to slaughter the little asshole who’d interrupted the best not-fuck of his life. The sensation of Marena’s body sliding against his as she settled on her feet sent another lightning bolt of pleasure down his spine. There was a shuffle of fabric as Marena picked up her phone and tried to put herself back in order. Jesse didn’t bother; he knew they both looked a damn mess and he didn’t give a single fuck. In fact, the only thing he cared about at the moment was getting her into his bed so he could finish what he’d started.

“Thanks for the distraction,” Marena murmured, opening the door to a chorus of cheers and wolf whistles. She rolled her eyes and started shouldering her way through the crowd. She didn’t look back, which stung a little, and Jesse gave a sarcastic little salute to the crowd to avoid looking like a lovelorn asshole before retreating to the basement.

***

He didn’t realize until much later in the evening that she’d stolen his fucking wallet.

[in-class-daydreams]

Parlay (Kuroo x Reader)| Ch. 1

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader (ft. Roommate Kenma)

Word Count: ~1,600

Genres: Fluff, angst if you squint, general buffoonery

CW: Maybe some baby swearing, but otherwise none!

Summary: (Y/N), a first-year student attending Tokyo U, is living with her best friend, Kenma Kozume. Little did she know, her life would be turned upside down after being exposed to Kenma's volleyball teammate and close friend, Kuroo Tetsurou. One wrong move, and the parlay's stakes only get higher each time. 

Chapters: First | Previous | Next

“Bonnie left her spot!” the girl’s voice was bursting with sheer panic as her roommate and close friend frantically flipped between security screens to avoid what seemed to be an inevitable death. Even though she was practically draped over him, he barely registered her full weight on him.

He couldn’t play Five Nights at Freddy’s on his channel now. Everyone had already played it a long time ago and he was sure to get some backlash for ‘copying’ other streamers. Still, any self-respecting gamer should have at least played the game at some point. Unfortunately, he’d had to drag his poor roommate into it, and it turned out that together they had the combined courage of a sugar-free gummy bear.

Kenma elbowed his friend in the side. “Shh! I know!” he hissed at her. (Y/N)’s clammy hands were clamped tightly around his shoulders as she half-leaned over him to get a good look at the screen. Both of their eyes flitted around the screen, focused on scrutinizing each and every visual detail. The screens were dark and his power level was getting dangerously low. He exited out of the security screens to slam the left door on one of the animatronics. As the metal door slammed down, they caught a glimpse of the animal’s unnaturally large teeth and the murderous look in its eyes. Quickly clicking through the security screens once more, the female’s eyes landed on something disturbing. She jumped and slapped his shoulder frantically.

“Close the doors! Close the doors!” she squealed. Kenma quickly checked on the door. The duck was still at the left door and it was eating up his power supply. He was only at 3 a.m., and he was determined not to waste any more power.

The in-game clock struck 4 a.m. and his eyes flitted down to his power level. He paled at the ‘2%’ staring back at him.

“Freddie left his--!”

Suddenly the security screens went blank and game’s lights shut off abruptly. The whole game went quiet as the two roommates stared in horror. The doors raised. Luckily, the animatronic was gone from the left door, but they were sitting ducks in that powerless room surrounded by robots with murderous intent. They sat in petrified terror as mere seconds dragged on.

Just then, the animatronic bear leapt and roared right at the two players, its shrill screaming causing their toes to curl. They clung to each other fearfully at the sudden sight. Soon, the ‘game over’ screen appeared and the room went quiet once again. The pair sat in blank silence for a long moment. After a pregnant pause, (Y/N), slow and unsure, stood up off the floor and carded her fingers through her hair.

“I guess I should get to class,” she murmured barely above a whisper. 

Kenma stared blankly at her. “Okay. Be safe,” he said robotically. 

She tiptoed around the house gathering her school supplies and made for the door a bit quicker than would be considered normal.

“I’ll be back in about two hours!” she called over her shoulder as she tried to hasten away from the apartment as quickly as possible. 

~~

‘Went for groceries. Be back soon. 

030’ 

    She had to laugh. Kenma had started drawing those faces to be ironic and poke fun at her, but now he couldn’t stop. Oh how the turns have tabled.

Even for someone as academically-inclined as her, (Y/N) was exhausted from her advanced calculus lecture. It was a class for second-years and older, but when she’d thought she could handle it. 

“Everyone thinks they’re ‘that bitch’ that can handle it early, but trust me, very few people are ‘that bitch,’ (Y/N),” her cousin had advised. Against her cousin’s advice, she’d signed up for the class anyway, thinking it’d be easy peasy lemon squeezy for someone who did so well in math in high school. Oh how wrong she was! Now she was stressed depressed lemon zest. After dragging herself through the door of her shared third-floor apartment, she was grateful to see Kenma’s cute note upon her return.

Five Nights was still running on Kenma’s laptop on the living room floor. That stupid bear’s freaky metal face grinned back at her. Rather than be stared down by an animated murder bear, she toed the laptop closed and decided that if Kenma didn’t know she’d touched his precious laptop with her “sweaty, unsanitary feet,” he couldn’t be mad at her (truth be told, he had a very hard time being mad at her at all). The damage was done, though, and the teen felt those unblinking eyes on her still.

She thought she’d heard some odd rustling down the hall where the bedrooms were.

‘Come on, (Y/N), it was just a stupid game,’ she thought.

Rather than sprint back out the front door, she decided to go to the kitchen and start on dinner. ‘Lasagna, grilled chicken, noodles.’’ She mentally ran through all the recipes she knew. They had Chinese food the night before, and fried chicken the night before that, but it had been a while since pasta night. Hopefully Kenma would come home with the ingredients she needed. She reached into her jeans pocket to text her roommate, but before she could, the rustling down the hallway happened again. This time, it was unmistakable.

 Her pulse quickened and she fumbled around for the nearest weapon-like object. She wrapped her fingers around a small metal water bottle. Sure it was only about 12-oz., but it would do. She steeled her nerves and crept down the hallway pressed up against the wall like 007. The noise seemed to be coming from Kenma’s room.

“They must have known we’d both be out of the apartment! They could have been stalking us for weeks, oh my god, we don’t even have any valuables, though! What would burglars want with us anyway? We’re in college and our entire budget goes to rent and food! I can’t die over this, I’ve already paid my tuition for this semesterohgodohgodohgodohgod,” (Y/N)’s inner monologue began spiraling into hysterics as she trembled outside her friend’s door. Her legs felt like lead and her arms were frozen up close to her chest. The girl was petrified as Kenma’s bedroom door swung open and before her was a massive silhouette.

Pause. Then she screamed a seemingly impossible sound to achieve with human vocal cords and started sprinting for the door. After nearly knocking a newly-arrived Kenma to the floor, she squeezed him in a vice-like bear hug.

“Geh--you’re crushing me,” Kenma wheezed. In her rapid rambling, he could make out the words “burglar,” “murderer,” and “tuition.”

The first-year patted his friend’s back gently to get her to release him from her crushing grip. She had an unnaturally tight grip for someone of her stature. Behind her, a tall, muscular man with unkempt black hair and piercing eyes strolled confusedly down the hallway.

The Not-Burglar raised an eyebrow. Turning to Kenma he asked, “You didn’t tell her I was here?”

“I did. She’s a bad texter,” Kenma replied while peeling (Y/N)’s arms from their spot stuck to his body.

“Huh? O-oh...my bad,” she supposed she hadn’t checked her phone since before her class started. She held up a finger and reached into her pocket, “But wait! I have this for you instead!” 

From her pocket, she held up a finger heart for her friend to see. The latter rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the smirking male before him.

“Well, (Y/N), this is Kuroo Tetsurou. Kuroo, this is (L/N) (Y/N).”

(Y/N)  seemed to have calmed down, because she replied, “It’s nice to meet you Kuroo-san! I’ve heard a lot about you!”

Kuroo noted the radiant grin she gave him and shook her hand.

“Same here. But I didn’t realize Kenma was hiding such a cutie from me,” he smiled that smile that made all sorts of people weak in the knees.

Desperate to avoid eye contact, the smaller girl’s gaze shifted around the room nervously before finding a target, “Ah Ken-ken! Lemme help you with the groceries!”

‘K-ken-ken..? Never heard that before...’ Kuroo thought.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Kenma continued putting away groceries and ignored the pout she threw his way.

“Kuroo-san, since you’re already here, do you want to stay for dinner? I’d like to apologize for jumping to conclusions earlier,” she bowed deeply.

“I could never decline a special request from such a--”

He shut his mouth at the truly frightening look his best friend shot him before interrupting, “Don’t be a pervert, Kuroo.”

“Ken-ken, you cooked dinner yesterday. I can do it today,” (Y/N) insisted, unable to successfully nudge him out of the way. Kenma was surprisingly strong.

“It’s fine, I got it,” he stopped his preparations just long enough to give her a genuine smile that Kuroo himself had only seen a handful of times.

‘Why is this girl so special to you, Kenma?’ Kuroo wondered.

“Come on! At least let me help! Kenma~  Don’t ignore me!”

‘Now this is definitely a sight I’ve never seen before.’

~~

After dinner, as he was saying his goodbyes and gathering his things to leave, Kuroo concluded that his best friend really had found another person that complimented him as well as Kuroo did himself. This was definitely a welcome surprise. He was happy for his friend, of course, though at first, he was puzzled as to how a simple roommate could have embedded herself so deeply into Kenma’s heart. He pondered that thought for a bit before having an epiphany just as he was on his way out the door.

“Thanks for the dinner (L/N)-san, I really enjoyed it. Treat Kenma well! He’s never had me meet a girlfriend before.”

Halfway out the door, he shot them a cocky, conspiratory grin and strolled out into the night.

~~

A/N: And that’s the first chapter of Parlay! It’s our first fic on this blog and honestly the first fic I’ve ever been even slightly confident in, so I hope you enjoyed. We’ll be updating regularly, so feel free to shoot us a message or an ask if you want to be added to our tag-list. Thanks! <3

- Admin Mango-Chan

 Hello everybody! Thank you so much for clicking and reading this story! There will be plenty of chapters with a lot more action and drama on your way! See you soon! :)

- Admin Kiwi-chan

[fimflamfilosophy]

Characters: Tearing Each Other Together

After the world-sweeping success of my previous article (forty notes on Tumblr, wow!) and being driven out of my house due to mold for the second time in two months, I think the time is right to add another essay to the subject of character design and writing. But what’s left to say after having definitely solved the entire process of character writing the last time?

Well, suppose you can figure out the emotional state of one person. That’s well and good, and oddly harder for people than you might imagine. And I think the reason it’s so hard is because in virtually any show you’re not going to be given a character in a vacuum to learn that process from. They have some story, something they’re trying to overcome, and other characters they’re bouncing off of, and the actual process of conflict is more complicated than knowing who your characters are.

Hate, Love, or Indifference, It’s All A Struggle

So what’s the essence of a story? There’s some motive that’s trying to be achieved. A conflict. And I can’t stress this enough. Conflict. Because it’s one thing if you say your main character is a kid who wants to be the best Poke’mon trainer and completely another to have that be a concrete objective with a satisfying story and conclusion. Wanting to be the “best” isn’t actually conflict. It’s a dream. Being forced to travel the known world to acquire eight gaudy pins that probably cost twenty-five cents each to manufacture? That’s conflict.

And not only do you have to travel the world, you do so with a shrill red-head who explicitly hates you because you trashed her bike, and a sex-starved pervert whose life dream is to make Poke’mon mate with each other for a living. And that’s important. Without Misty and Brock, Ash’s journey is a lot less interesting for a lot of reasons. Misty calls Ash out every time he messes up, and aside from being on a watch list, Brock is a helpful older character who tells Ash, and therefore the audience, what’s what.

But let’s back up, because people understand the benefit of Brock and Misty at a basic level, but when you’re starting off, how do you know who those people should be? Well, every show, from sitcom, to comedy to drama, does its best to balance personalities against each other so there’s always some sort of conflict possible between them.

Now, “conflict” doesn’t mean they’re trying to kill each other. It could mean they’re falling in love with each other. Maybe it means they don’t have much in common but have to work together over long hours in isolation. The idea is simply that there’s something to overcome between these people. Misty thinks Ash is stupid - that’s a conflict which is often leveraged to push Ash forward. Brock, however, has a reactive role in the show, only functioning in conflict when a womanizer who grovels at the feet of ladies Ash is already helping anyway.

It’s odd because if Misty were older she would be set up very well as kind of an “opposites” romantic torture device with Brock. They’re even depicted as professional equals, which would have made their levels of expertise and experience more balanced. Had they been closer in apparent age, a “will they won’t they” romance would have fit adequately, with Brock’s constant hitting on other women serving as a major, hopeless, long-lasting roadblock to a serious relationship between them; it would work especially well because Misty is established to have an inferiority complex to her prettier sisters. It also might help explain why Brock hung around so long. But as it was, Brock’s main contribution to the inner dynamic was to act as a mediator, caretaker, and mentor.

But circling back to Brock’s dream of Poke’mon husbandry. Well, on the meta level that’s why he doesn’t leave. Because it’s not a motive, he’s not taking steps towards it, and it’s not going to happen, it’s just a dream. Until it does happen, anyway, and then they wrote him out of the show - but we’ll dig more into this later.

Balancing Imbalance

The best place to look to see good conflict set ups between characters are popular sitcoms. Consider the show “Frasier”: it ran for eleven seasons and revolved mainly around the personal spats of Frasier, his brother Niles, their dad, and the dad’s caretaker, Daphne. Frasier was arrogant, Niles was insecure, Dad was an earnest roughneck, and Daphne was well-meaning. Frasier and Niles were also elitist pricks at times so they couldn’t even always agree where to eat together, much less with their father who was happier having a burger with ketchup.

Every episode had some central motivator; an ice fishing trip, a joint investment, an awards ceremony - but these things were just catalysts to the main conflict, which was almost always something between characters. We’d seen it time and again, that Frasier and his Dad would come to blows over differences in taste. Niles would try to court Daphne while torn by his commitment to his failing marriage, over and over. But the pithy banter and the way they resolved it would always be new, so people watched this show, episode after episode, for over a decade.

And the simple beauty of it all was that each of the characters had something to do with each other. Whether it be filial obligation, lust, sibling rivalry, friction between introversion and extroversion, or taste in food, they always had some source of conflict to make a show out of. Niles and Frasier were both psychiatrists, but from different schools of thought and different working environments, so they even had chances to butt heads academically and professionally. It was rich with writing opportunities and it’s not any wonder it lasted so long.

Another sitcom, “New Girl”, which was about a group of roommates, had a good dynamic set-up between two characters, Schmidt and Nick. Nick is a messy slob and Schmidt’s a type A neat freak, creating a really obvious source of conflict to work with. But then they had a third character, Winston, who they lampshade as the token black guy. 

Now, the joke that Winston is the “black friend” has pretty much no legs, so in the early seasons you see him acting as kind of a third party mediator, or maybe a wild card, and it winds up being funnier when Winston is unhelpful. So as the seasons went on, Winston gradually lost his damn mind. He becomes a cop and meets a woman so that he’d have some character growth and dynamic, but also develops into a man who would burn a building down as a prank. The writers had no idea what they were doing with him and he gradually flew further and further off the handle.

Don’t get me wrong, I really liked Winston as a character. Aside from being funny in the show, watching the writers gradually unglue him from sanity was its own meta comedy above that. I knew they were doing it on accident, but having such a good time with it that it was just going to keep getting worse. In fact a major component of the finale for the whole show is an insane thing Winston does. They wrap the show on the note, “Winston is crazy”. And it all happened because they didn’t figure out what Winston’s conflict was at the start. He didn’t have a source of conflict with anyone, so the man became a living breathing embodiment of conflict in general.

Your Story Ends With the Conflict

Now, the catch is, in any type of fiction, whether a video game, a roleplaying session, or a sitcom, the story ends when the conflict does, because if the conflict is over there’s nothing more to tell! It used to frustrate me to no end back when “My Little Pony” was popular and the other nerds on the internet used to ask, “How many times must Fluttershy learn not to be shy, or that being shy is okay? When will she overcome all that she is and eliminate the core element that creates conflict for her?”

The answer should always be that the character will learn their damn lesson when the show ends or when they’re written off it. If you are sick of seeing a character and don’t want to see them any more, the best thing to do is close out their issues, because once they have no conflicts, they have no story, and there’s no point in doing a show about them. Asking Fluttershy to stop being shy is asking to say goodbye to her, because she's a cartoon and her job is to entertain kids by being neurotic and yellow.

People think they’re so smart when they say they’d solve all a character’s problems if it were them. In the finale to the first season of Poke’mon, for example, Ash decides to gamble his whole championship run on Charizard, who’s a self-absorbed bitch of a creature that ultimately throws the match and leaves it an open question whether Ash might have won if he’d left the team primadonna sitting on the bench.

Some viewers see that and complain it’s the dumbest possible thing Ash could have done, but it’s probably one of the single most brilliant things the Poke’mon writers did in the grand scheme, because think about where it left us. Ash didn’t achieve his goal of proving he’s “the best”, but it feels like a fluke and if he got another shot, he might make it all the way. This gave the show a gateway to more episodes with Ash still having something to prove and a dumb mistake indicating he still had a lot to learn. Because he didn’t win, his story hadn’t ended.

In some cases shows can end characters just by addressing some dream goal they’ve been expressing since the first season. In the case of Brock, they intentionally removed him from the show by introducing him to some girl who was willing to work with Brock in the animal husbandry business. He’d been traveling all this time, his dream opportunity fell into his lap, and he was gone. What reason would he have to refuse, and why would anyone stop him? And of course, Brock’s dream job was incompatible with the central plot elements of the rest of the show, so that was it!

The Format Informs the Conflict

If you want to write something but you aren’t sure when it’s going to end, you need a concrete, long-term conflict that’s not just going to go away. For example, in “Scooby Doo and the Thirteen Ghosts”, there were thirteen ghosts. By design, that show should have ended after Scooby Doo found all thirteen ghosts. It actually ended earlier than that because it was cancelled, but you get the idea. When you have a finite goal, your run time is going to be finite as well.

At least in theory. In “JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure” they establish at the beginning of one season that everyone’s magic powers were based on the Tarot. Now, I don’t know the Tarot off hand, but as the show went on I knew that sooner or later they’d run out of Tarot cards, and in my mind I assumed the season would be over when the Tarot ended. But then I got a good chuckle when a guy showed up and his powers were based on a totally different theme, because I knew the writer had realized he’d stumbled into something good and wasn’t ready to end it. He invented a cheap excuse to keep going! And I think if “Scooby Doo and the Thirteen Ghosts” had been successful they’d have managed to unleash a whole lot more than thirteen ghosts because Hannah Barbera was not exactly a studio with a lot of shame.

Character conflicts like those in sitcoms are a great way to have conflict perpetually, because people don’t really change that much and there’s no reason why most of the fundamental friction shouldn’t be there indefinitely. But of course, character-driven conflict is going to be secondary in an event-driven show. “Jojo” actually does have a lot of character conflict, but the plot is primarily about the battles and the journey - if all the fighting ended Jojo’s characters probably couldn’t carry a sitcom, at least not without some serious hard work, a little genius, and a touch of elbow grease.

For event-driven conflict, you’ll want to establish a target - a moving target if you don't know when the story ends, and that can be pretty difficult. Old action shows and comics used to do it by having a rotating cast of villains, so that after one was defeated another would show up tomorrow, and it was assumed these guys regularly broke out of prison, or they escaped in rocket pods, or whatever, and they’d be back later with a new goofy scheme. In these cases you tend to find reactive heroes; they patrol the streets until a lunatic in tights and a garden-themed hat shows up and transforms everyone into people-shaped topiaries somehow.

For active heroes, you need to establish something that requires a lot of structure, like Ash’s journey to win the Poke’mon League. In every country he visits, they all have this asinine rule that you have to go to eight unique locations and kick the ass of someone who disadvantages themselves with an easily-countered mono team that all have the same exact weakness. You can’t be accepted into the League if you haven’t proven you own a water Poke’mon to utterly flatten the fire gym! Let’s be real, this nonsense is probably designed intentionally as a money gate - most people run out of cash before they qualify. Either way, it ends when Ash wins the league, and he lost the league so the show could keep going.

For roleplaying games, the same rules apply. With your players, you’re either going to establish a reactive goal - an adventuring guild hires a bunch of colorful salarymen with silly accents to go to a dungeon as part of their nine to five job - or you need players to set an active goal for themselves and keep the realization of that goal beyond their reach until you’re ready to end the game.

The Active Hero Acts

In my younger years, I learned to roleplay in almost exclusively player-driven games where we were expected to come up with our own goals and pursue them ourselves, but I’ve discovered that is stunningly rare in most roleplaying circles. Your typical D&D player likes to play the salaryman with a funny accent who doesn’t have to worry about the venturous part of adventure. His boss told him to go to the Cave of Everlasting Wonders and Torturous Screams, recover the Sword of Bad Portent, and then hand it over to the department of magic items where they’ll file the paperwork to get it delivered to the patron that wanted the sword for some reason. No need to have your own motives.

But what if you want to play a crime fighter who actually, you know, busts up all the crime? Clearly you can’t just wait for crime to happen passively - you’ve got to go after people. Act instead of being reactive. Purse snatchers are small time and in a more grounded setting the guys you’ll catch by being passive are just grunts being hired out by someone - usually kids in a lot of cases. You have to seek out the bosses.

Making an active character to fit into any setting can be challenging, and I’ve seen quite a few pitfalls. I think one of the funniest motives is always “the guy who wants to go home” due to its obvious failure condition. A lot of stories are about everymen who just want to get out of trouble, but those stories end when they get out of trouble! In many books, movies, shows, or roleplaying games, you’re almost always going to find opportunities to send that guy home, and you’ll have to either conveniently ignore it, switch motives and decide not to go home, or end the whole story with going home. These characters only work where the story is happening to them and it's all out of their control.

I’ve also seen my share of the “quirky genius inventor/scientist”. When someone designs a character mistaking a dream for a motive. They dream of building a better mouse trap, you see. That’s their inner conflict. And while this is a real world conflict, it’s difficult to make it a good story because actual science and invention involves a lengthy quantity of controlled experiments. You breed hundreds of fruit flies, expose them to nicotine, and try to isolate the gene that causes nicotine resistance. It can be fascinating work at its level but sometimes the most exciting part of your day is when you give yourself a steam burn cooking the fly food. The “quirky scientist” in fiction is usually more of a mentor, and if he insists on staying in his lab doing his work then he’s not even a main character - he’s a guy who explains fruit flies to the audience and then is never heard from again. Other times he’s the asshole who invented the story’s whole problem.

I once played in a game with “the quirky scientist who wants to go home”, and man was that a frustrating ride. The game itself was about occult magic and demons, and for most of the game the scientist was experimenting with teleportation magic to go home and was focused on that above the goal of finding and eradicating demons (the game’s premise). And when he finally met a boss demon that could teleport him home to his lab, he went! We wound up retiring a character who, to be honest, was barely even interested in the main subject of the story. Had he been in a film or a show, they’d have cut the character after the first draft because he served no purpose and wasted screen time.

So how do you make sure your character has a working, proactive goal, in a nutshell? Establish a goal that can be achieved by the character within the framework of your story through action by leaving his house (or after burning his house down so he can’t go home), and then make sure the goal is big enough that it will take many broad steps to get there - those steps need to be concrete and visible, not things that would happen off-screen. Most importantly, tie that goal into the main premise of the story, so that reaching the end of the story generally may achieve what the character wants.

If You Aren’t Trying, It’s Not A Trial

Okay, I understand that last bit probably requires more unpacking. But think of it this way. There’s a writing structure referred to as the “Hero’s Journey”. Basically it goes like this: the hero is forced into adventure, he meets friends and goes through trials, he hits his lowest point, he is reborn into a better man, he ends the conflict, story over.

What I’m talking about specifically right now are the trials. The “wacky inventor” is usually presumed to do all his research off screen because most media likes to focus on the results of the invention and the conflict. But if you were to focus on the trials of a scientist, it’d actually be about procuring research grants and potentially materials. You wouldn’t watch a show about a man who checks gene A-235 for nicotine resistance in flies, then goes on to A-236, then A-237.

If I were to write a story about a researcher, here’s one thing I might do: the researcher fails to find what he’s looking for in gene A-235, and when he goes to seek a grant to look at A-236, he finds one of his colleagues has convinced the university that the protagonist’s research is a dead end. Hearing this, the researcher realizes he’s about to lose his lab, so he writes a bit of a lie into his report on A-235. He says it may prevent cancer.

Now, the protagonist is, deep down, a good man. He thinks this will generate some buzz at the university and get him more funding, but he’ll do a follow-up and show the data doesn’t hold up. After that he’ll ask for money for A-236 and everything goes back to normal. But disaster strikes. His article, which was only supposed to show up in an obscure research journal, gets picked up by a major news network and winds up being spread all over. Suddenly he’s “the man who cured cancer”.

And as he’s trying to figure out how to navigate the issue, another researcher comes out and says that under peer review, he was able to replicate the results. He too shows that A-235 cures cancer! Now the hero isn’t sure. He becomes a celebrity and simply lies about his research because he has no real data, but try desperately as he might, in private he just can’t get the results the peer review insisted were there.

He struggles and struggles, coming to blows with his colleague who’s scrutinizing his research notes. Throw in a love interest who’s impressed with what this guy did, and actually I think I’ve just described the plot of some movie I saw a long time ago about faking cold fusion. I think Albert Einstein was a supporting character in it. In my version the twist would be the peer reviewer was also trying to get a grant by lying. Point is, the central conflict of the film certainly isn’t the scientific process, it’s all the crazy crap that happened on the way from point A to point B.

The story is in the trials. If nothing changes, if the character doesn’t have to change their way of life or go through anything special, it’s either not a story or it’s not your typical story. There are plenty of experimental films or well-regarded books that can make a certain banality become interesting. Stories that explain the simple struggles of day to day living for people on hard times. But the trials, the palpable challenges, that’s really the meat of it all. When you think of what your character should be doing throughout the story, he should be going through these efforts, these steps, these trials, all in the name of whatever his broader goal is.

Where You Start Affects Where You End

It also matters quite a lot when and where characters are introduced. A lot of tales follow some basic notes, and one of the more common elements is “crossing the threshold”, which prevents your characters from going back to their life before the adventure. It’s used because it compels the characters forward, as they have no other direction they can go. It can be anything: the character’s home town is destroyed, the character commits a crime, he accepts a contract, his mother dies - so long as it prevents him from going back. It’s especially useful in roleplaying games where you really need everyone to be driving forward.

In one such roleplaying game, I got in a spat with the guy who wanted to run the game because I was trying to make a leader character, but the game master wanted to base his game around a movie he’d seen with a single main character. He’d elected another player to be that main character, and explained to me he’d be starting the game after that character had already crossed the threshold and had begun his journey. This meant that everyone else were supporting cast and could go back to their normal lives at any time, because they were coming willingly from where they were and not really facing any drastic changes to their personal status quo.

I eventually resolved not to play in that game at all, because none of the character dynamics I wanted were going to work. It was supposed to be a “wannabe” superhero game, with the premise that everyone wanted to be heroes, except one player had already started the journey and it turned out another had already reached the end of that arc and was going to play a character that had been a hero going on years before the story began. There was no plan to really reconcile the narrative clashes.

If that game were to work as it was, without me being present, then the person playing the pre-established hero would have needed to take the mentor role. The other players besides the main character would have needed to be comfortable in auxiliary roles, and the group would have to play as though they were part-way into the story. Still learning to be a team but well past the initial stages of a plot, and they’d all need to think up reasons to be in this group individually on their own, because the threshold had already been crossed and they didn’t cross it together.

The friend running the game was actually dismissive of my advice here, arguing that I was overcomplicating everything with a meta analysis of narrative and structure when all we need is a basic drive to play, and I don’t think he realized he’d set himself up with a much more complicated game and less cohesive premise by going about things as he had.

The already established hero couldn’t be the mentor because a mentor character had already been created as an NPC. The auxiliary players weren’t really informed at the outset they’d be auxiliaries - especially not me who’d wanted to play the team leader. The player who’d been designated as the central protagonist didn’t want to lead or be the central protagonist. It could have worked, but it would have taken a lot more planning and many more concessions than a typical game.

In a more recent game, I’ve got another bit of an issue with the start misleading the general goals of the players. It’s a sci-fi game, and first, one player is doing “the quirky inventor scientist”; his current stated dream is vaguely to create transhumanist technology. He also wants to play the leader, so he established himself as the most important man nobody has ever heard of. He has spies in every major institution in the known galaxy and is a genius beyond comparison. He’s currently based in a rusting pirate ship in the middle of the space boonies doing nothing with his life save being the most important man.

Meanwhile, I set up a disgraced military officer with a revenge quest against his own nation. But the pirate crew my character joined turned out to not believe in structure nor leadership and they killed their last commander to have a system of “democracy”. My structure-minded character has tried to take the lead and drive us forward, but he runs into general deconstructive resistance and the “quirky scientist” wants to be the leader, but hasn’t yet expressed self-motivated goals.

It’s not exactly my most harmonious game and there’s quite a lot going wrong here, but here’s how it could have worked: first, establishing that the crew of the pirates respects no leadership places the entire crew in the precarious position of being “chickenshit” at the outset. That kind of incohesiveness is why a band of rogues gets easily defeated; it’s not the behavior of scrappy men of action, but hopeless men of inaction. A corrupted “democracy” collectivises failure while awarding success to whoever actually has the most power in the group structure - it protects the weak leaders from responsibility and disincentivizes good work by allowing those same men to reap rewards while offloading the burdens to those lower on the ladder. In essence, “If things are screwed up, blame the democracy. If things are good, I did it.”

What should have happened was the “quirky scientist” should have been in charge to start with, because otherwise he has no reason to be on board the ship. He’s the most powerful man in the galaxy, after all. If it were because he was financing the pirates to go on raiding and salvage missions relevant to his research, then it would make sense. He’d have a purpose and a position of leadership just as the player wanted. It would also establish the pirates have some command structure and a level of respect for it that allows them to function.

And the power struggle between the disgraced officer and the scientist? Perfectly reasonable character conflict that would drive actual, meaningful roleplaying and story. The scientist may bankroll the operation but the officer is the tactical talent and the two pull in opposite directions, as power-hungry men often do.

However, the opportunity to start with a sensible and meaningful social dynamic has passed, and on top of that the “quirky scientist” keeps his galaxy-wide power a secret, so it’s all kind of messy and “badly written” in the sense that most audiences would be generally rooting for the crew to fail, and they’d find the grand reveal of the scientist’s galactic power to be frustrating and unrewarding because it’s more of a plot hole than anything. So close on so many counts and yet so very far, and the opportunity to pull it together eventually is present but a more challenging and uphill battle than getting it right at the outset.

In The End, Did We Even Learn Anything?

Creating a character is easy, in my opinion. Creating a working story with a group of self-driven characters can be a lot harder. This is especially true of roleplaying games or of cooperation with multiple writers, where you need to be on the same general page with a committee. It can help a lot to establish the exact conflicts at the beginning, but as can be seen with Winston from “New Girl” or the later seasons of “My Little Pony”, what you have can morph beyond your control as things go on.

Sometimes you never had control in the first place. Sometimes you lose control because you conclude the original conflict of your story and struggle to find a new one - the brand is too successful to let go. Maybe an executive comes in and injects an idea that throws the entire balance of everything totally out of whack and now nothing works. Sometimes your friend thinks story structure is overrated. It’s a difficult juggling act.

So at the end of this essay did we even learn anything? It depends a lot on what you’re trying to do and what you wanted to learn. If you’re the more typical Dungeons and Dragons group, you don’t need to think much about this. Just make your characters and passively react to activities handed out by Dungeons, Dungeons & Co - your conflict is event-driven. Are you writing a sitcom? Well, balance a tangled web of conflicting character habits and write the ensuing disaster. Want to make a complex film about a group of highly motivated, proactive people with sophisticated individual goals that ultimately converge while still respecting their rich, conflicting, inner politics, and do all that writing as part of a team? Well, good goddamn luck, but with the right start and enough care you can make it happen.

[star-villager]

Ezra: Month 1 of Animal Crossing New Horizons!

Hello all! I’m here to tell my journey of the first month of New Horizons on Cillia Island!

There’ll be lots of pictures! I hope you enjoy! Future updates will probably be daily because this is... long at first... but I promise it slows down!

This post covers 32 days (skipping a few). It is indented to be a fun, long, read! I’ll say it’s a 10-15 minute read just to be on the longer side!

-Ezra; Island Resident Representative; Local Island Decorator; Mayor of Cillia (if it had a mayor hehe!)

Thursday, March 19th, 4pm -7GMT. The virus is present, but just starting. I have been home for not even 24 hours of my job that was supposed to keep me out of town all March. I make a phone call to a local Gamestop, asking if they’re still open, and how the midnight release of Animal Crossing is going to work. The worker tells me I can go pick it up right then, because they’re going to be closing early and had JUST gotten a phone call from corporate that they could give it out early - you can assume what I did /immediately/ after lol.

~~~

Starting was incredibly easy! I’ve had my dead name as my New Leaf Mayor forever, and I loved that city name so Ezra and Cillia it was! And we began! My starting villagers were Cherry and Roald with Cherry Trees (fitting!), and I said I wasn’t gonna restart no matter what... so here we go!

I picked a town that had a West Beach River Mouth as well as a South River Mouth - which matched my town in New Leaf! (The south exit, and the flow of the river - but the west exit would be where my original upper waterfall was so the shape was the same). Picked northern hemisphere (where I am). And placed my house right in a river bend (with the initial plan to section me off into my own island within an island!). Cherry and Roald’s homes were placed along the west-running river right at the top, with not much effort or forethought. Not that it was a bad thing! I knew they wouldn’t be permanent villagers, but wanted to give them some beautiful scenery while they were here.

I can definitely tell that I’m still acting and thinking like a mayor even thought I’m only an island rep. ... this doesn’t change bwahaha!

Day 1 March 19th, was all setup and prep for our REAL day 1! Blathers already was about to have a decent encyclopedia, and I was getting nook miles left and right - already expecting a house instead of a tent the next day. I wasn’t too surprised, I’ve done this song and dance before, and I’m just here to have a great time in my island paradise! Getting Blathers was definitely my highest priority!

Day 2 March 20th, was... difficult... giving 15 things to Blathers one at a time and finding 30 iron for the Nooklings was excruciating lol - but getting fossils and a pole vault to absolutely DECIMATE the weed ecosystem filled me with a glee that I’m sure you can understand. I managed to upgrade my house, get Blathers and Nooks Cranny all in one day *whew*. Now, time to have some fun!

I build my first QR code which was a cool outfit I called PRIDE Coat! It is a black coat with drawstrings and pockets on the front - a lil’ trans flag on the left arm, a bi flag on the right arm, and my (pretty decent!) attempt at a rainbow of paint (in the gay flag colors) falling down my back! And I made an Iwatobi Swim Club Beanie to match the one I wear every day!!

I then played with my Passport a bit to have my title be “Future Fish” which is Free! Eternal Summer (the second season’s) Ending Song!!!! Which I thought was SUPER cute and VERY me. (It’s my second fave anime. I plan on making a Reigisa outfit in the future!!).

Already by the end of Day 2 I had my hair customization options, the tool wheel, and the DIY that I needed to buy. Everything Nook was offering I managed to get my grubby little day 2 hands on! So you KNOW my hair went to pink pigtails IMMEDIATELY. And took /many/ photos. But since my outfits are all the same just imagine the ones you just saw but with pink instead of blonde!

With that it was time to get my 3 villagers that would accompany Cherry and Roald (This correlates to getting the iron for Nooklings!) I wanted to grab the first 3 villagers that I saw just to try some new friends this go around - as I had already planned on making my New Leaf family my permies! So my first three were Ketchup (nice!), Hornsby (Aww!!), and... GALA!?!?

Well how convenient! That was one permie immediately out of the way!! Welcome back, Gala!!! So excited to have you on the island!

Then I caught an Oarfish and saw *GASP* WISP!!!! To which, I immediately ran up to him and demanded he bring my girlfriend, Cece the Squirrel, to the island. He, instead, got spooked, had me collect his spirit, and offered me items. *sigh* Ok - can’t get Cece that way - so I decided to sleep!

How naive I was...

Day 3 March 21st, was both good and bad! I had access to Nooklings, but that was about it. Blathers was getting a crowded amount of critters outside his roped off building, but it would be all worth it, tomorrow. But!! I found my first spider island! Which I sold off to Nooklings and happily went to sleep!

Day 4 March 22nd, had SO MUCH to offer! Blathers, Daisy Mae, Harvy, WHEW. Pretty sure I had a visit from Gulliver either today or yesterday, too! Nothing could POSSIBLY ruin this day!!

Oh how wrong.

How so terribly wrong I was.

Animal Crossing New Horizons is an incredible game that lets you invite so many villagers to your island!

All of them. But 14.  

14 Villagers from New Leaf are not available. The Sanrio Characters. And the Amiibo Characters.

No Felyne. No Ganon, Epona, Medli, or W. Link. No Viche or Inkwell. No Rilla, Chai, Morty, or Etoille.

No Toby.

No Chelsea.

...

No Cece.

...

To say that I was devastated would be an understatement. I was absolutely crushed. Not only were 3 of my permies out, but the one villager I couldn’t live without, wasn’t allowed in the game. She didn’t even get a poster.

So I did what any crushed lover would do, and made a memoir to her.

And it started raining. Poetic. (I was only cheered up slightly when I got to catch a Coelacanth!) I didn’t do this until much later (April 4th) but for the sake of not talking about her too much, I would open New Leaf and wrote her a goodbye love letter, which, honestly, makes me tear up whenever I read it.

And I went to sleep.

I have nothing for Day 5 other than scanning all my amiibo cards for the POSTERS which are UNDOUBTEDLY my FAVORITE new feature in the game!!

Day 6, March 24th, GALA MOVED IN! I was so excited, and it was definitely needed. My best friend also came over and we goofed off and we met each other’s villagers! Then I went to an island tour and got A PANSY HYBRID ISLAND!!!! OOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I went crazy. Absolutely destroyed that ecosystem. I went full feral. MINE. ALL MINE!!!

And I caught my first Sturgeon!! Which was awesome because I only had the rare fish left in my March collection! Trying to get a Golden Trout, I made many many fish bait, and got the 200 clam achievement! Which was exciting because that unlocked “Mermaid” for titles!! I doubt I’ll change from Future Fish, but Mermaid would be a second pick!

For Day 7 I went to a good friend’s village and desperately tried to make Chiyuki Fujito’s blue dress from Runway de Waratte... it didn’t work... but I like the attempt! (Will send pics in messenger if you’re curious!).

Day 8, March 26th, was the day ISABELLE WAS HERE!!! Welcome to your island paradise, QUEEN. I definitely dressed for the part ;)

This, of course, opened up tunes and flag options! Flag was incredibly easy. It’s going to stay my picture of Cece until she’s added back into the game (which will probably be never, so...)

The tunes was much harder for me. But since I couldn’t think of anything else I made it “SO. NO. CHI. NO. SA. DA. ME.” from the first Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Opening (which is, ironically, what is playing as I type this... SO NO CHI NO SA DA ME <- was written in time with the music playing. Incredible.) It’s definitely not going to be that forever, but for now it makes me giggle!

Nothing for Day 9 except for a SICK tarantula island :) love those furry babes! I also built my campsite! Tomorrow was going to be big!! Who on Earth was going to move in!?

Day 10, March 28th, now, I have what I like to call “chaotic luck”. I’ll catch the bus, but my gosh did I almost miss it. I was absolutely positive I failed that test, and I did, but the question I messed up doesn’t count and I passed! Cece isn’t in the game but do you know who’s at my campsite??

OFFICE

HETEROCHROMIA

TSUNDERE

TRANS

CAT

EXTRAORDINAIRE

RAAAAAAAAAAAYMOND!!!!

Can you even imagine my face??? Can you IMAGINE the jaw drop??  I moved him next to me IMMEDIATELY.

Day 12, March 30th, I saw kicks for the first time!!! Love that funky newsie skunk!

Day 13, March 31st, I saw Flick for the first time!!! Went on a mad tarantula hunt and made BANK. Fun story, I thought both Flick and C.J. were girls, so when I learned Flick was a boy I was really upset because I thought a canon gay ship was now straight, but WHOOPS they’re BOTH boys! 😎 Nice.

I also saw Celeste for the first time!!! Gosh how I missed her!! I actually sat and got all 200 stars in one night, just because of how much I like wishing on falling stars!!!

Day 14, April 1st, The Nightmare Begins. Love him or Hate him, Zipper was here. I won’t go on about the eggs. Everyone talks about the eggs. They sucked, fishing was a nightmare, not a big fan. I would end up not getting all the sakura DIYs which was very upsetting (but I’ll just get them next year). In INCREDIBLE news I got a golden trout!!! Which was the last thing I needed in my March encyclopedia - and it was on to April hunting! Every night thing I could get, I did! So I decided to set up my last 4 houses, and focus on getting K.K. Slider finally to my island!

The first house sold naturally to Pecan! NICE! I love squirrels so much! She was very welcome!

Day 15, April 2nd, in the interest in getting new villagers, I went on a tour and there she was: MERENGUE! She’s, truthfully, not a favorite of mine. She’s SO cute, but not someone I wanted permanently. However, she’s my other best friend’s FAVORITE and she doesn’t have a switch. So, there was NO WAY I wasn’t taking Merengue onto my island. I haven’t sent my friend pics, yet, but I hope I can soon!! She’s gonna be so happy!

Today was the first day I met C.J. which... stunning. Absolutely jaw dropping. I’m SMITTEN with a TAKEN BEAVER. He calls me fashionista. Asks about my anglersona. Takes selfies of/with me. He’s truly the ideal. I’d invite him back any day!

Over the next 3 days, Freya and Bruce move in as my last 2 villagers giving us a grand starting total of: Cherry, Roald, Ketchup, Hornsby, Gala, Raymond, Pecan, Merengue, Freya, and Bruce! Not bad not bad!

Day 19, April 6th, THE BEST GIRL IS HEEERE. LABEL CAME TO MY TOWN FOR THE FIRST TIME. I might have cried, honestly. I cannot believe someone that incredible would want to come to my island. She asked for me to give her an official look. Are you kidding me? Easy breezy. For my perfect outfit she rewarded me a Label Hat. Oh? DESIGNER? I was awestruck. The design was IMPECCABLE. The flavor was IMMACULATE.

One of my villagers also happened to gift me a Pink SPRITE COSTUME??? I, honestly, have never been more in love with an outfit in my entire life??? A pink Peter Pan outfit??? LEGENDARY.

Day 20, April 7th, I don’t quite remember what day K.K. Slider visited the island when I hit my 3 star rating - so we’ll say it was today lol. That meant ISLAND EDITING, but I didn’t know what to do, yet, so I didn’t worry too much about it!

Label’s hat came in MORE COLORS in the store today. YOU BET I bought all of them. The talent. But this meant that I had a pink hat to match my pink sprite costume and you bet I was LIVING my best life. I had also finished the Anklyosaurus which is my FAVORITE dinosaur so I was LIVING it up.

Later, Ketchup would approach me and ask to move. I was happy for her to explore new lands and bid her farewell, and gave her a sweet goodbye. With that, it was hunting time, and I found the perfect villager that would set everything in motion.

Day 22, April 9th, Label VISITS AGAIN!!!!!! Unfortunately, she asked for a sporty look, which I couldn’t pull off perfectly :/ So no new item from her... but my OUTFIT WAS FIRE AND WE WERE MAD CUTE TOGETHER.

Day 23, April 10th, the villager has moved in, the cryptid gyroid herself, COCO!!!

And her moving in gave me a BRILLIANT idea. I’d like to keep it under wraps for now, but I’m so, so, SO happy she’s here!

Day 24, April 11th, The Fishing Tourney. The Summer tourney will be significantly easier for me, now that I know you can double your points by fishing with someone else, but it took me HOURS to collect all the clams and get to 300 points. It wasn’t really worth it, but I love fish so much so I wasn’t going to miss a SINGLE thing. I got that gold trophy and I’m SO proud of myself.

Also my fishing outfit could slay for MILES

Straight Fire.

Day 25, April 12th, With a golden trophy in hand and the last day of eggies, I was feeling really confident. I had the means and the idea to change cliffs + water for a couple days and just... made what my brain came up with! I’ll keep this vague for now, because I’m really excited about the final results! Just know that everyday I edit a little bit more and come up with more ideas!

Day 26, April 13th, Happy Homestuck, Neil Bangs out the Tunes, and Thomas Sanders goes to the Wedding Day!! And it did NOT disappoint. Label for A 3RD TIME!!! She must like me as much as I like her >w<!! Today she gave out her cap!!! It’s, honestly, not my thing, I’d rather stick with the brim hats, but I do think they’re cute!! So I would buy them all the next day! The Able Sister’s haul on Day 27 was oh my gosh amazing!!! They had the cap, of course, but they also had THE OTHER SPRITE COSTUMES!! Which I bought all of them. And now I wear, near exclusively, this outfit in 5 different colors bwahaha!

Day 30, April 17th, I got my first golden item!!! The slingshot! Nice! Over the past few days, I’ve just been designing, moving houses, and building ramps! Learning new myth debunks, stuff like that!

I was also blessed with 3 encounters :OOOO I didn’t know this was even POSSIBLE!?

Day 31, April 18th, Disaster Strikes. I’ve been moving so many homes that I didn’t consider that a villager couldn’t move in because you were already doing a home thing for the day. So when I went to invite camper Gonzo to my town he declined!? I was devastated. He was SO cute and I thought he could move into Bruce’s house to keep the peace of personalities! I think he’s someone in the future who I’ll ask for a poster of or ask for an amiibo card of! I know I’m going to check the campsite first before moving any buildings from here on out! D’:

And that brings us to today,

Day 32, April 19th, one month from the day I started. I’ve been having the TIME of my life! There’s definitely been some ups and downs, but I have a goal in mind and it’s keeping me so focused! I organized an entire flower field today!! Due to a turnip mishap, I happen to be 2 days ahead of everyone, but I have been good about time traveling other than that. This means that I am fortunate enough to get my Nooklings upgrade 2 days early and they’ll be open tomorrow!!! I’m... I’m so excited!!! I NEED more flower seeds!!!!!!!

The future looks incredibly bright on Cillia island, and I cannot wait to hear about everyone else’s month!!

Thank you for your time. Please enjoy these random favorite photos of mine!

[aceandaroacts]

On Being a Happy Family of One

[This month, I'm hosting the Carnival of Aces, a blogging festival where participants respond to a topic. The topic I've chosen for this month is "Conscious and Unconscious Differences". You can see the other submissions and join in here!]

Considering the experiences you’ve had that are tied to your asexuality, how have they made you stronger?

Hi! I'm aceandaroacts. If you met me in real life, I'd introduce myself as a coder of custom software and grandma-at-heart. But this is the internet!

The most important thing to know about me is not the things I've built, places I've gone, or the experiences I've overcome. It's my attitude: "I can do this!"

When I first started thinking about topics to write about for this month's Carnival of Aces, I was torn between several ideas. I love fashion. I understand none of it, and never know what I'm doing, but I have fun with it and am trying to figure out how to be more... visible? as one of the few agender people at my company. I also have a cool history with being forced to dress like a Gothic nun half my life and building cosplays and cool Halloween costumes in the present half. But that felt a little too intersectional, and might not be as useful from an academic lens.

I thought about cryptography, clandestine communication, and the obsession with language and selective secrecy I had as a kid, and how that connects to a lot of ace symbols - the black ring on the middle finger, ace cards, cake, dragons... and how I wound up spending two months and hundreds of hours consuming all the ace content I could find, because words and language and symbols are so important!

And I thought about my life; how it compares to the default narrative, and how I'm going about building my own.

This month's theme is conscious and unconscious differences. Unconscious, as in automatic, or as in: before I knew I was asexual. Conscious, as in: intentional. It's broad enough to wrap around all the above, but specific enough in the "how does this make you stronger" bit that I think we'll still see some cool patterns and strengths arise that help to establish our own narrative tropes.

I bought "unsexy" conservative outfits before I know I was asexual. I avoided people that showed too much interest in me automatically. I unconsciously avoided conversations about dating, sex, attraction, and masturbation with friends by walking away or changing the topic. My favorite colors have always been purple, silver, black, and white. Strategy games were my favorite. I'd obsess over characters that were mysterious, building all kinds of different backstories and futures for them in my head. I never had sleepovers, and didn't understand why people would want them. I was the "lone wolf" in my friend groups - a drifter that got along pretty well with all kinds of people, but ultimately did whatever they wanted with or without company. Around 60% of my friends were adults; I had great relationships with the teachers and staff members at my school, and I knew all the local librarians by name. The gender split of my friend group was always pretty close to 50-50, and populated with extremely different perspectives - punk anarchists, exchange students, female football players, native american sci-fi enthusiasts, anorexic wrestlers, etc. I loved words, loved codes and ciphers, loved fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and music with lyrics. I avoided drama like the plague. I had a very unstable home life, and moved locations almost every year. Home only extended as far as to the skin on my body. I never dreamed about weddings or fancy houses or kids (or even pets!). P.E. (Physical Education) was the worst - I felt uncomfortable in the dressing rooms, so I would arrive early before people started undressing and would change in the restrooms so I would have privacy and avoid seeing naked people as much as possible. I never obsessed over my body - I could go for months at a time without looking in a mirror. My reputation was based on my academics and random hobbies, not my looks or relationships. People sought me out as a mentor and constantly told me I was "mature" and "an old soul". When fights broke out, people looked to me as a fair and impartial judge of the situation, and respected whatever verdict I reached. It felt a lot like being a Buddha!

Realizing I was asexual didn't change much of that, but it did cause me to face choices head-on: would I try to find a partner, or not? Would I try to live with other roommates, or not? Would I try to be attractive, or not? Would I go to bars to make friends, or not? Would I worry about having a weak social network, or not? Would I want to live in a retirement community, or not? Would I want kids around, or not? What would my milestones in life be? How would I fulfill my human need to be social? Who would I trust to take care of me in an emergency?

I'm estranged from my birth family. I'm asexual, aromantic, agender, touch-averse, romance-repulsed, sex-repulsed, and introverted as can be. I tried dating and was so miserable that I wound up finding asexuality because of it in the first place. I don't trust myself to be a parent since my own parents screwed up so badly that it left me with three mental illnesses and a decade's worth of unwinding bad life lessons. So I'm in a fun position!

The "normal" life journey story goes like this: You grow up with two loving biological parents, get your education, graduate, get further training or education via school or a first job, find your partner in life, get into a steady career, get married and live together, have kids, raise those kids, watch them get their education and jobs and move away, then retire and die at an old age. My life only has the education and job bits (retirement? in this economy? die old? on this polluted planet?). I'm not going to look for a lifelong partner. I'm not having kids or adopting. There's a whole lot of white space where everyone else has milestones, and I've consciously accepted that as okay. I'm a family of one, and it's great!

The first milestones I set for myself were to find good roommates, help out fellow child abuse survivors, and own a home. I've achieved them! My next milestone is to do something big and artsy that makes a decent amount of people happy. I have no idea what it will be, yet - right now I've been doing lots of little things: teaching workshops, building costumes, painting, home renovation projects. I'm gonna try being in a music band this year. The milestone after that will be to have a big impact via a community-service type initiative. There's a woman in my city that created an LGBTQ homeless shelter that's an actual home-like environment (seasonal housing with free counseling, job training, stocked pantry, etc. aimed at guiding people to independence and self-sufficiency) which I thought was really cool, and I'd like to do something that's on a similar scale. After that, who knows? Maybe publish a book instead of writing 12 of them and letting them collect dust? Maybe run a small rainbow-themed cafe that makes fancy desserts? So many possibilities!

It's exactly these differences that bleed into my strengths. I'm super independent/self-motivated/self-directed, because I've had to be to survive. I excel at navigating uncertainty, ambiguity, assessing risks, and forecasting outcomes and trends, because my life has a lot of uncertainty and risk compared to the average population. I'm quick to pick up on communication styles and tailor my messages accordingly, because I've had to be mindful about it when navigating my parents and people that developed crushes on me and/or became stalkers. My superpower at work is my ability to dodge all of the politics at play and get everyone on board with factually beneficial solutions (so I still come across as an objective party vs someone playing favorites or only looking out for themselves). People have faith that I'm an expert in all things IT, even when I mess up, because I ask good questions and make fewer assumptions. (I assumed I was cis for 22 years and surprise! I was wrong. Anyone can be wrong. Especially if they are never forced to think about the thing!) I'm great at organizing live events - I plan multiple award shows and get-togethers. I also run an ace & aro meetup in my city! (The experience of being isolated will make an organizer out of you real quick!) People seek me out as a mentor and coach at work because I'm already satisfied with my life and who I am, and I genuinely want to help others without expecting anything in return. I intentionally stay in touch with and work to expand my friend group, which means I have a great professional network of actual friends that I find interesting and fun to be around, and not just LinkedIn faces. If I weren't ace, I wouldn't be doing that. And if I still didn't know I was ace, I wouldn't be doing it half as much as I do now - when you really focus on it, it's so worth it!

So, yeah. Asexuality is a part of me, and it's great. How does your identit(y/ies) make you great?

[ashes-and-ashes]

Hey! So, I wanted to post something, but couldn’t be bothered to write anything lol. I decided to post the last chapter from That Fateful Night here, and I hope you guys like it! This was really fun to write, as this was my first time using Regulus and James as POV characters. Enjoy!l

~

He sits at the piano, his fingers bleeding and bruised. His hands dance over the keys, a low, lilting melody, the same tune that he had been playing for hours.

He wrote this song, back when he was 13, him and Sirius. He would play the lower part, and Sirius the higher, four hands on one keyboard, the same, haunting notes filling the hall where the grand piano was. They spent hours on this, the harmony and the tempo, hours perfecting it until both were satisfied.

The notes are burned into his memory now, seared into his consciousness, and Regulus lets his fingers press the keys as his mind wanders.

The storm roars above him, rain pounding on the glass, and he wonders if Sirius made it out alive.

He shakes his head quickly, banishing the thoughts. He knew his father could peer into his mind, knew he could rifle through thoughts like stepping from one room to the next. He couldn’t risk it, his parents knowing that Sirius had fled.

He’s known it since they were young, since they were old enough to walk and talk and fight. Sirius was the flames, burning up, with too much light, too much feelings, consuming himself and all others until only bitter charcoal and dusty ashes remained. Heedless, reckless, brave and headstrong and stubborn and so, so courageous. Charging headfirst into danger, without a second though to his own safety, because that’s what he always did.

Regulus was like cool water, hidden underneath the earth, dealing in whispered secrets and subtle half-truths. He was the first to realize that lies were just as important as truths, that sometimes a soft breath in an ear could achieve what a spell could not. He traded in manipulations and rumors, bargains and deals, and always managed to stay alive. Because what use was bravery, if you were too injured to fight? How could you save someone if you lay in a shallow grave in the frozen ground?

He never got to choose his own role, was forced into it by Sirius’ recklessness. The dark shadow to his brother’s light, the perfect son to Sirius’ rebellion. It was easier this way, having one son who could be tamed and another that could not. Easier for him to protect his brother, keep him from dying or getting himself injured. Regulus always walked that fine line, between protecting his brother and hurting him.

There’s lightning somewhere outside, illuminating the dark room as Regulus’ fingers slip on a key. He frowns, takes a deep breath, the burns on his side aching. They were thick, shiny skin and blistered, his entire left side one huge line of flame. He had tried to heal it, had tried Episkey and Sana and Emantur, tried desperately to mend the scar before it had set. It was useless, though - Sirius was always the brilliant one.

He remembers walking in to Sirius in his room, his shirt off and lying on the ground. He hadn’t realized how much his brother had covered for him, not until he saw the scars, the thick lines that covered his back, curled around his ribs, shakes up over his shoulders and neck. Even, precise, hundreds of tiny white pinpricks on his arm from Crucio, angry red lines from when Walburga had taken her anger out on him.

Sirius had jumped, one hand pointing his wand at him. What the hell do you want?

Regulus had turned, walked out of the room, but not before he recognized what Sirius was trying to do. Abscondam - Hide, one of the hardest spells to use. He had wondered if Sirius had sat like this every morning, covering up his scars with layers of spells.

Regulus lets out a shaking breath, his fingers brushing his side. It aches, from where Sirius had thrown him to the ground, the wound on his middle burning. Sirius had tried, tried to shield him with his own body, and his mother had struck him, right through the flesh.

He lets his eyes drift shut, biting at his lip. Sirius had taught him that trick, the trick of biting down until blood filled your mouth, a silent effort to not scream. He had seen his brother do it many times before, whenever Walburga tortured him or Orion screamed at him or when he was forced to say some cutting remark.

He exhales. He was a planner. It was in his nature, planning out scenes and scenarios, trying to anticipate some far-away future.

He knew, ever since he was 7, ever since he had watched Sirius scream his mother down after she hit him, that Sirius could not be controlled. That no matter how many times she’s beat him, no matter how many times she’s tortured him, no matter how many Crucio’s and Lacero’s and Secares she used, they could never break him enough that he would stop fighting. He was a warrior, and they would never be able to tame him.

But he knew his brother, knew him even when Regulus was 7. There was only one thing tethering him, keeping him in this hellhole, and that was Regulus.

He was 11 when he realized that Sirius would never leave, not while Regulus was still breathing underneath Walburga’s roof. He was at the table, that first night she had used Crucio on him, and he knew. Knew, as Sirius’s screams filled the kitchen that he was bound here, with invisible strands because he could not abandon his brother.

Regulus was a planner. Always had been. So, he started his first plan.

years. 4 years of doing everything he could to make Sirius hate him. 4 years of taunting, of insults, of revealing Sirius’ secrets even though it ripped him apart inside because he needed to cut that bond. He needed Sirius to hate him, enough that he would be compelled to leave. And if destroying the love between them was the price, then Regulus was prepared to pay it.

Bargains. That’s what Regulus specialized in, sacrifices and trades. He had been playing this game for 8 years now, counting his cards and waiting, and now Sirius was gone.

He knew that Sirius would try and come back. He also knew that Remus and James wouldn’t let him.

Regulus lets his hands still on the keys, his finger throbbing, the skin raw. It hurt, having to manipulate his brother like this, made him want to scream and cry and throw something. He knew the sacrifice he made, the choice in allowing Sirius to leave, had known it since he was 11.

He would stay, revive the Dark Mark, be forever condemned to a lifetime of death and destruction and despair. He would inherit the Black Fortune, would be forced to produce an heir and the best that he could wish for was that someone would kill him early enough that he couldn’t do any harm.

It was another component to his plan. If Sirius hated him, he wouldn’t be shattered when Regulus died.

Sacrifice. He would do it, gladly, would given up all his hopes and dreams, his ideas for a better world, because one of them had to survive this. One of them had to make it through, had to win and live and be happy. Sirius had James and Peter, Lilly and Marlene, Dorcas and Gideon and Fabian. Sirius had Remus.

Regulus was alone.

It was fine. He had chosen his path. Sirius was gone now, and fate could not be altered. Sirius would love, grow old, live out his days with Remus.

He knew his brother loved the werewolf. God, he knew.

And it was better, to give him the chance to be free, then to trap him in a life he never wanted. Because Regulus could bear it, bear the weight of the expectations, but Sirius would die.

It was funny. No matter how much they hated each other, no matter all the mistakes and betrayals and mocking jeers, they were still brothers. They would still protect each other, even if it killed them.

So Regulus cracks his knuckles, places them back on the keys. He’s made his choice, had made it long ago, given his older brother the one gift he would never have.

But he would always leave that top part of the piano empty, always left it for the ghost of the family they could have been.

[lovemesomesurveys]

Is there a bus stop near your house?: Yeah.

Do you prefer red wine or white wine?: No whine. I don’t drink.

What’s the last airport you were at? Why were you there?: The one close to me to drop someone off.

Who do you live with?: My parents, younger bro, and doggo.

Do you read reddit? If so, how often and what subreddits do you like?: No.

Have you recently broken up with a significant other or even just a friend?: No.

What’s the weather like today? Is it nice enough to go outside?: It’s 86 F right now. 

Do you know anyone who’s had a baby recently?: No.

Have you used a pen or pencil today? What did you write down?: Nope.

What does your last text message say and who is it from?: I asked my bro if I could use his Amazon Prime and he replied, “sure.”

Can you count how many times you’ve seen your favourite film?: I have a lot of favorites, many of which I’ve seen countless times. Some of them are shown on TV often and I watch whenever I catch them on.

When was the last time you ate marshmallows?: With hot chocolate sometime earlier this year.

Do you listen to any podcasts? How do you listen to them?: No. There’s a lot that sound interesting, but I’m so lazy. Like for some reason it takes a lot for me to get started on something, even something as simple as a podcast. It’s the same way with TV shows. A few of my favorite TV shows I’ve discovered because someone put it on for me and got me to watch.

How old will you be in the year 2030?: 41. D: 

How often does the kettle in your house get used?: We don’t have one.

Does your skin bruise easily? Do you have any bruises right now? What from?: Not really.

What was the last thing you spent $150 or more on?: Bills.

Do you prefer yes or no questions or more open-ended questions?: Open-ended. I tend to avoid surveys that seem to be mostly questions that encourage one-word answers. What’s even the point? <<< Same. They get boring.

What brand of toilet paper do you usually buy?: Charmin.

If I knocked on your door right now, would you be acceptable dressed?: Yeah.

Why did you leave your last job?: I’ve never had one.

What colour were the last socks you wore?: Black.

Are you studying currently? What level of education and what do you study?: Nope. I graduated in 2015 with my BA in psych. I’m not pursuing anything higher. 

Have you ever eaten at a restaurant and left without paying?: No.

What was the last thing that made you laugh out loud?: The vlog I was watching earlier.

What’s your favourite scent of air freshener?: Minty, cinnamon, tropical/beachy ones.

How many weddings have you ever been to?: 3.

Do you know anyone named Nora?: No.

Are your hands and feet in good condition or could you do with a mani-pedi? My fingernails are a mess. When was the last time you played a board game? What did you play?: It was some time last year, I think. I think it was The Golden Girls Clue game my cousin brought over.

Have you ever been to a festival for beer or other type of alcohol?: No.

Do you own a record player and/or vinyls?: I have 1 record, no record player.

When was the last time you went out for drinks?: Like 6/7 years ago. Have you ever been to a strip club?: No.

What’s your favourite kind of smoothie?: Strawberry and banana or just banana. 

Do you know anyone with a ‘virtue name’? (Google it): Yes.

Would you ever wear real authentic leather?: Nah.

Have you taken out the trash today?: Not me, personally. My dad did, though. How often do you wear make-up?: Very rarely. Not at all this year so far I don’t think. If I did, it was at the beginning sometime. 

What’s your opinion on The Simpsons?: Not my thing.

Do you prefer horizontal or vertical stripes?: I don’t care.

What’s your favourite brand of deodorant/antiperspirant?: Secret.

Do you know anyone who has been through a divorce?: Yeah.

If you had the money, would you take taxis everywhere instead of driving?: No.

Have you ever done a juice cleanse?: Nope.

Do you have any friends who you can’t decide if they’re attractive or not?: That’s really shitty. Is the inside of your fridge clean right now or does it need a clean out?: My mom cleaned it out recently. 

When was the last time you washed the dishes?: I rinse off whatever I use, but I’m not the one who does the dishes. My mom or dad does.

Are there any magazines that you read on a regular basis?: Nope. I haven’t read a magazine in years.

Do you have to pay for parking in most places in the town/city you live in?: I don’t.

What’s the first thing you tend to do when you have a headache?: Putting a cold wash cloth over my eyes helps a bit and then I just try and sleep it off. That’s all I can do.

Tell me about your responsibilities at work.: No job.

Can you hear lots of traffic from your house? Does it bother you?: I don’t hear any. I actually live near a freeway, but they built a soundproof wall several years ago. Have you ever had proper Canadian poutine with the squeaky cheese?: Nope. I’m intrigued by it, though. I think I’d like it.

Do your parents know how to operate smartphones and/or computers?: My mom uses her phone quite a bit for things like Facebook, Snapchat, and texting, so yeah she’s pretty good. She can use a computer, too. My dad uses his phone for stuff like Facebook, YouTube, and texting, but he’s not as savvy. He’s always asking my brother and I for help doing something. Especially not with a computer.

How old are your parents, anyway?: My mom is in her early 50s and my dad is in his late 50.

Are you allergic to anything? What do you have to do to prevent them?: Tangerines. I just avoid them.

What song is stuck in your head at the moment?: The theme song to Big Little Lies.

Do you hate it when people try really hard, or do you kinda like it?: It depends…? This is vague. <<< Like try really hard to be cool or funny or something like that? Then yes. Just stop. If they’re trying really hard to achieve something or do well on something, then no. Why would I hate that?

What’s your boss’ first name? Do you call him/her by that name?:

When was the last time you wore a uniform of any kind? What colour was it? I only had to wear a uniform for the preschool I went to. It was plaid.

Do you complete a survey before taking this one? Will you take one after?: Yeah I did. I’ll be taking more. Have you ever lost enough weight to drop a dress size?: I probably have.

What’s your favourite kind of bread?: White, wheat, or sourdough. 

When was the last time you got pizza? What toppings did you get?: A couple weeks ago. It was a creamy garlic sauce pizza with cheese (including feta), spinach, and meatballs. 

Do you own Monopoly? Is it the original or a special version?: We have a special version. It’s a fancy collector’s version.

What was the last thing you said out loud?: My mom just got home from work and we were talking.

You have to choose one: cats or dogs?: Dogs.

Would someone being either a cat or dog person effect you dating them?: No. It would affect me dating them if they didn’t like animals, though.

How do you travel to and from work?:

Do you primarily use cash or card for your purchases? Why?: Card. 

Have you ever been to a stadium concert?: Yep, those are the only kind I’ve been to.

[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

Devil’s Temptation pt4

Warnings: Mob Styling warlords, strong language.

Masterlist

---

Chapter 4 – Missing information

The hotel room they were taken too was grand and everything they came to expect from their father and his unwillingness to compromise on anything. For all the time they had spent running away and hiding from the family it was surprising how quickly they felt they could relax back inside the inner circle again. I thought I’d done it right this time. Average housing, low radar life, hell I even took a job doing drone work to get some cash to stay off the family radar.

Perhaps it was the knowledge that they were not likely to be killed as long as there was something wanted from them. They held that card close to their chest like a get out of jail free card in monopoly. If there was one thing you learnt early in cartel life it was leverage was key. I suppose I could try to slip away again but after last time I doubt Father would have been stupid enough not to put guards outside the room.

Just as their brain had worked through that possibility the main door clicked and a tall man entered the room. His short brown hair was greyer than when they last spoke, but there was no doubt who it was.

“Father?”

“You have no idea the trouble you have put me through just to find you, child.” His voice held an edge of sharp annoyance to it but his eyes betrayed him. He was happy to see them safe. Even so, the fact that he had maintained his hunt meant that the marked and loaded deck they ran from was still in play at the table.

---

Azuchi Corp. HQ

– Crash –

The loud sound of a sudden impact rang out through the underground parking lot. Mitsuhide had been on his way to his car and stopped in the doorway from the main building to see the fender bender that had just happened in front of him. Masa got out of his car and made his way to the back of it to look at the damage, all the while rubbing his head. Ieyasu who now resembled a blonde-haired beetroot shot out of his own vehicle and rounded on the Chef.

“What the fuck!?” Ieyasu exclaimed.

“Sorry Yasu, didn’t see you pulling in as I was reversing.” Masa replied apologetically, blinking his one good eye slowly as if trying to focus.

“Did you even look?” Ieyasu bent down to look at his smashed front light. “Great I’m going to have to phone the garage now to get this fixed.”

“I’ll pay for the damage.” Masa fumbled around his jacket looking for his wallet and phone.

“Too right you’ll pay it was your fault. Seriously were you born this stupid or did you have to take special lessons to achieve it?” Ieyasu was still furious but he was also now watching Masa with a frown.

“I said I was sorry. I was going to a meeting about that new location…” Masa explained feebly as he gave up searching his pockets and returned to the front seat where he at least found his cell phone.

“Well, that isn’t happening now.” Ieyasu grabbed Masa by the arm pulling him free of the car and began to tug him towards the access to the main building. “Come on, I’ll get that crash helmet you call a head seen too.”

Mitsuhide chuckled as he made his way to the other side of the parking lot to his own black salon. Looks like our little contrarian is still the same.

“You going out?” Masa called out to him as he reached his space.

“So, it would appear.” Mitsuhide waved his keys towards them before unlocking the car. “Did either of you need something?”

“From you?” Ieyasu quipped. “I’ve just had a car crash, the last thing I need is a random dead body!!”

Mitsuhide smirked slightly at the reply.

“Could you swing past my office and grab some files from my secretary? You can’t miss her, a cute little redhead with the biggest green eyes you’ve ever seen and…” Masa had a smile drift over his face as he described the employee. Well clearly someone has ideas on that one outside of work.

“I swear you are a good example of why the gene pool needs a lifeguard and contraception.” Ieyasu rolled his eyes, looking disgusted.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Masa frowned.

“Exactly what I said.” Ieyasu snapped back.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to play doctor and patient.” Mitsuhide chuckled as he climbed in his car. “Petite redheaded secretary? No random dead bodies? Got it. See you both later.” He pulled his door shut and drove away.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Masa asked watching the car leave the underground space.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Come on I’ll get that skull of yours wrapped before what little brains you have leak out.” Ieyasu said as he gave Masa a shove to get him to move.

---

Nobunaga was still awake. So many things needed to be done and there were never enough hours in the day. All of the emails had been answered, he had a few names listed to remind him that he would have to make personal visits to them in order to make sure they are aware that he is still the main power to stay behind during this new game.

“Sir, I’ve informed all the local media that we would usually use and they will be setting up outside awaiting the company announcement.” Hideyoshi called from the hallway and as the door was already open, he walked right in.

“Good, I knew I could rely on you to make the arrangements.” Nobunaga smiled at his right-hand man. Always so supportive and reliable. Hideyoshi was staring at him. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, Sir. I’m glad that you shall be returning.” Hideyoshi stated honestly a broad smile on his face. He looks like a dog happy to see his master has returned home. All he would be missing was a wagging tail and my slippers in his mouth.

“Given the current circumstances, I could hardly avoid taking such action.” Nobunaga motioned towards the city behind him framed in the glass panels of the windows. “You are a man for peace Hideyoshi, you always were. You have a great ability in maintaining harmony but when…”

“When the shit hits the fan I’m not as good as you are Sir.” Hideyoshi nodded in agreement. His face looked a little crestfallen with the idea that he did not do enough.

“Crude phrasing but accurate.” Nobu stood up and moved towards his friend. Placing a hand firmly on his shoulder. “Come now Hideyoshi you know I value your abilities but I also didn’t get where I am today by ignoring that sometimes someone’s talents place them as being better service to me in a different position.” None of this was your fault. If anything it was mine. Quick fixes that backfire... well no point in dwelling on it.

“Of course, Sir.” Hideyoshi nodded. The look on his face melted as he looked at his boss. “Speaking of people being of service. Where is Mitsuhide?”

“I would imagine he is exactly where he needs to be even if he says he isn’t.” Nobunaga shrugged and laughed. These two are always so entertaining when working together. I shall never be bored.

---

Uptown

The smell of freshly ground coffee filled the air in the loft space. It was a peaceful moment where he felt like he was caught between a dream and responsibility. The repetitive tick of the wall clock, and the soft chatter of the TV filled the air that was once filled with words of love and appreciation. When was the last time we could be alone like this? The schedule has been so busy lately. Absentmindedly he ran his fingertips over his collar bone to his shoulder and felt the telling sting of a bruise developing. Thank god for shirts with high collars.

He reached up to the cupboards to retrieve a couple of cups only to find himself enveloped from behind by a set of strong arms drawing his back into the warmth of his lover. They covered his hands with theirs caressing his fingers one by one, their breath against his bare skin sent shivers through his body.

“Let me help you with that.” He could feel the smile of the other in the playful tone they used. In the next instant, he found himself spun around facing the naked torso the man who he had left in bed to go in search of refreshments. Trapped between the cold countertop and the radiating heat of the man before him.

“Remind me how this is supposed to be helping?” He asked his blue eyes searching for an answer from the eyes hidden behind the mess of dark hair in front of him. I love you but god do you need to brush your hair right now.

“It’s not, but…” Just as his lover was about to connect his lips back to the mark on his shoulder the TV switched to a local news broadcast, and a familiar voice distracted him. Their dark hair danced across his exposed skin causing him to shudder at the sensation.

The warmth of the other left him standing near the coffee machine and he let out a small sigh. I guess we had to return to reality at some point. He took out two cups from the cupboard and washed them in the sink before using a new hand towel to dry them and placed them both in perfect alignment facing front so he could pour out the coffee for them. His habits were once a great source of teasing but now it was just a quirk that apparently made his partner love him even more.

He found the other man in the Livingroom perched on the edge of the of the cream designer couch staring at the tv with a grin plastered on his face.

“… and so, I would like to formally announce the return of Mr Oda to the Azuchi Corp.” Hideyoshi Toyotomi, who was the current CEO of the corporation smiled for the cameras and then stepped down from the podium.

The man standing behind came forward and he was every bit the intimidating man they had been told he was. His hair was slicked back and his dark suit, which was clearly made to measure all aided in heightening the feeling that he was a force to be reckoned with. I wonder what his hair would be like if we slicked it back like that? Wait, what am I thinking? He looked again at the man sitting glued to the screen.

“Thank you, Mr Toyotomi. Ladies and Gentlemen, we are all busy people and I would like to make this as concise as possible.” Nobunaga Oda played the crowd beautifully. He knew it was the trademark of ‘The Devil King of the upper east side’ but he had never actually seen it for himself. “I intend to take a temporary hiatus from my political career at present and return to my roots. I believe it is all too easy for a man to rise in power and position and forget where they came from. I have no intention of being that man.”

“Mr Oda? Do you have anything else you would like to say by way of introduction back into the business world?” The clear voice of a reporter carried over the huddled media. It was obviously a plugged question. They themselves used it all the time in mass media releases, it helped to lead the written press into the chosen angles you wanted to secure business further down the line. Plugged question or not it had his lover leaning forward even more in his seat. The excitement etched on his face and mirrored in his nearly black eyes was breath-taking.

“Only this. This city and its people are mine. I dedicated my life to achieving what was dubbed the impossible. I did it once and I shall do it again. And nothing is going to prevent me from that goal.” The tv broadcast rolled off into other news after a brief audio cut of the buzz of questions that sprung up as a result of Mr Oda’s declaration.

“You ok?” He asked as he handed the coffee over. Their fingers touched for a moment and the other man smiled back at him full of excitement.

“Of course. After that little display, I can say that this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.” The smile turned into an infuriating smirk. One that years ago he wanted to smack right off that porcelain skin, now… now it made him want to smother it with his lips.

“I’m not sure how I feel about that remark.” He gave a small pout as he drank from his own cup sinking into the couch to sit as well. The other man chuckled deeply and after gulping down his coffee so fast it gained a look of worry from the blue-eyed blonde next to him.

“Hush now don’t pout.” He said as he adjusted himself. How can someone do something so small and look so good doing it? “You really do worry too much you know that?”

“One of us has to, and it clearly isn’t going to be you.” His tone was icy but the heat in his eyes as he looked at his love was hardly something he could fake.

“You might be right. But we now have our missing piece so things are going to get easier from here on out.” With a chuckle and a stretch, the other man carried his now empty cup back to the kitchen placing it in the empty sink and returned to the bedroom, no doubt to get dressed.

“I hope you’re right. I thought my years in ‘dispatch’ were long gone.” He called out from the couch as he finished his coffee and straightened the cushions. Before washing up the cups placing them back in their original positions in the cupboard and returning to the Livingroom to wipe down the remote control and table.

---

It was a very long day and after locating that secretary of Masa’s he now had the files he requested as well as some more information on the new company, or more specifically the CEO.

Takahiro Yasui. A bright star in the business world in his former location and credited with becoming one of the youngest successful CEO’s. Naturally, he had a full list of awards and his education was top notch too boot. To the outside world, he looked like the perfect businessman. Mitsuhide smelled a rat. If something is too good to be true, it nearly always is.

The young man seemed to bolt out of nowhere and get somewhere far to quickly to say it was without aid. From what Mitsuhide had found out Yasui was the younger son of a cartel but that in itself was strange. His family supported his older brother not him. It was common enough clearly the older brother was supposed to be the new head of the family, and yet the younger sibling this time was proving to be the better candidate. If he has chosen to relocate perhaps there is a threat from his brother to remove competition.

The idea was plaguing his mind as he drove along heading back to base. If it's not his family supporting him then who the hell is? He stopped at a set of lights rapping his fingers against the leather on his steering wheel and looked around him. There was a large black luxury car pulled up outside a grand hotel. Nothing unusual in that but the thing that caught his attention was the group of men leaving the hotel to get into it. Holsters visible for a fleeting moment, the handles of their concealed weapons visible.

“And who pray tell are you?” He spoke aloud as he made a mental note of the license plate and continued to follow the flow of traffic. I do so hate lack of information.

---

[ilikepensandships]

Gray Ghost for Christmas Truce 2018

For @sonysakura

A Gray Ghost fanfic where Valerie shows Danny that you can have a good time in December without worrying about Christmas. This is my first Truce, and I know that I’m pushing my submission to the last possible second. Sorry about that. I really hope you like it!! Thanks goes to @stray-weebs for supporting me while writing this. Story under the break!

It was their first Christmas together. She wanted to do something to get his mind off the fact, but she wasn’t sure what. After much thought and consideration, Valerie Gray decided the best thing she could do was invite Danny Fenton over for a Christmas- free night spent at her place. Money was still tight, so there wasn't much preparation taking down tinsel or the like before Danny got there. She considered everything, moving even the small tree her dad had gotten from the second hand store into his bedroom. Not one thing remained to remind Danny of his least favorite holiday, save for the television programs running ‘round the clock. The t.v. would not be coming on for now, if at all.

Danny arrived at 6 o'clock pm. Valerie opened the door for him, glad that he made it on time; it happened so rarely. He was slightly disheveled, snow coating his tousled black hair. His red and white coat was thin, more appropriate for fall or spring than a walk through the snow in the dead of December. Valerie smiled at him; he frowned back.

“Do you know what my parents were yelling about before I left?” he asked with a huff. She knew. It was always the same: Mr. Fenton would fervently insist that Santa Claus was real, while Mrs. Fenton would spew facts about how impossible the mere idea of his existence was unrealistic. Every year it was the same, and every year it would put Danny in the same damn slump. She was sick of it. That’s what this night was for: taking his mind off of that stupid fight.

Danny and Valerie had moved to the couch. She had snack foods spread across the coffee table, tediously saved up over the past few weeks. There was all his favorites, including plain tortilla chips for dipping in guacamole.

“Danny, there’s no use in getting stressed over what your parents fight about. They’re going to do what they’re going to do. You can’t change that.” Valerie paused, seeing that flick of green in his eyes. Now was not the time to ask. “How about we play cards?” She pulled a pack out from seemingly nowhere and offered them to Danny.

He considered them, shirking out of his coat and laying it on the back of the couch. “Sure,” he said, reaching for a bag of doritos. “What do you want to play?”

Valerie opened the tattered pack of cards, trying to decide whether the moment called for a calm game like Memory, or a more exciting game, such as Slap Jack. Looking at Danny, fidgeting and antsy, she went with a calm one. “You know how to play Kings’ Corners?” she asked, not taking him for a card player.

“Yeah, it’s really fun,” he responded, momentarily distracted from opening his chips. “Jazz taught it to me a while back. She said that it’s a ‘good coping mechanism’, or something.”

Valerie shuffled the cards, pondering how much she didn’t know about the pale, skinny boy sitting in front of her. This kid was still so mysterious, so elusive… yet he still managed to surprise her in the softest, simplest ways. It caused an affection to bloom in her every time that fueled her toward wanting to give him a happiness she knew he could not achieve on his own.

“Okay. Since you know the rules, are you ready to lose?” she asked, all in good humor.

“Bring it, Val!” he said enthusiastically. His demeanor did a 180°, going from gloomy teen to competitive card player in two seconds flat. They swiped the snacks to the side of the coffee table, some toppling to the floor. Val swiped 14 cards to her and Danny respectively, each hand totaling to seven cards. She placed four cards face up in the centre, one on each side of the extra stack.

“Alright, Danny, you first,” she said, eyeing her cards with a skeptical glare. Her hand was trash. He picked up the mandatory card from the pile, then got to work on dispelling his cards. He placed down two kings, both red, and placed most of the rest of his hand down on the surrounding cards.

“How well did you shuffle these?” he asked, head tilted, eyebrow up and quizzical.

“I’m usually a great dealer,” Valerie responded, lips slightly puckered. She glanced back down at her cards. How did he end up with such a great hand? “You done?” He nodded, grin still plastered to his face. Danny never did have a good poker face.

The game didn’t last long. Danny quickly disposed of his hand within the next few rounds, Valerie seeming only to collect. This pattern continued throughout their next few games of cards, all passing relatively swiftly. Danny had quite the nice winning streak going, and he wasn’t prepared to quit just yet.

“I’m getting tired of Go Fish,” Val sighed. They’d played five rounds of it, and Danny was ready for another round.

“Pleeeeease, one more round,” he begged. She looked at him, the way his eyes glimmered with those otherworldly green specks that seemed to glow. His clasped hands begging her for one more round. His pitch black hair messy from all the times he ran his hand through it in their previous rounds. She couldn’t resist.

“Alright, one more round,” she relented. “Then we should do something else. It’s already getting pretty late.”

“Nine o’clock isn’t that late,” Danny argued, crossing his arms. “I’ve been out way later fighting gh-” He cut himself off, mouth still open from forming the word. His eyes grew wide, and he almost seemed to stop breathing. The sound his teeth made snapping shut was awful, and his eyes darted to his right. “I’ve been out way later... playing fight games with Tucker,” he corrected, still uneasy.

Valerie didn’t know how to feel about that. He was clearly lying. Should she call him out on it?

She shifted, Danny’s large eyes tilting the mood on its head. “You’re right,” she said quietly, “Nine o’clock isn’t that late.” She dealt the cards, exercising her patience to the limit. All she wanted to do was release the flow of questions and accusations building up inside her, but she knew that would ruin any chance she had of giving Danny a relaxing night in the midst of the Christmas bustle. For now, they would continue as though nothing had happened, though both knew there was a deeper meaning behind that bumble.

“Ha!” Danny shouted, slamming down his final match. He had won almost every game they played, from the initial game of Kings’ Corners to Crazy Eights to Go Fish. Valerie wasn’t sure exactly what Jazz had taught him, but, whatever it was, she might have to pay her a visit or two.

Looking at the time, Valerie decided what would happen next. She set down her cards, and prepared to take the next step of the night, however much later it was than she’d originally planned. Who knew Danny loved cards so much? “Hey, Danny?” Val asked, almost shyly.

“Yeah?” he looked at Valerie, victory gloat momentarily forgotten.

“I- uh, have a little something for you. I’m gonna go get it, okay?” With a nod of consent from Danny, Valerie rose from the small table perched in front of the couch and entered her bedroom. She passed the corkboard full of wanted ghosts, dodged the ectoweapons scattered on the floor, and grabbed the neatly wrapped present hidden under her bed. It wasn’t much, certainly nothing he couldn’t acquire on his own, but it’s the thought that counts, right? She hoped he liked it.

“I’m back,” she announced. The present was held behind her back, it’s baby blue paper crinkling with her nervousness. The rocket ships printed on the paper was a special treat, one she had scored from a friend.

While she’d been gone, Danny had cleaned up the cards, placing them back in their worn box- if you could even call it a box anymore, it was so shredded from use. He watched her with expectancy, ice blue eyes trained on what was hidden behind her. “I got you a gift,” Valerie confessed. At Danny’s frown, she continued. “I know, I know, tonight is supposed to be Christmas- free, but… I wanted to give you your gift early, and… I don’t know, it just feels like the right time, and-”

“Valerie.”

She looked to the boy across from her. “You’re babbling,” he said, gentler this time, quieter. There was that soft streak again. The gentle caress in his tone, the kindness shining through those bright eyes. “Can I see it?” he asked, holding out his hands, a small smile dancing on his face.

She handed him the small package. “You can open it right now if you’d like.” A nod of acknowledge, examination of where to attack first.

“The paper’s great,” he said, grinning. He went in with an attack to the paper, small tears at first, turned large as excitement grew.

“I hope you like it.” Valerie sat, fidgeting with her hands. This was what took the longest to save up for. She had waited weeks to purchase it, even then she had to count out the exact change. It difficult, but she knew that Danny deserved something great for Christmas. As great as she could afford, anyways.

“You got me Trinity of Doom!! I’ve been wanting this movie since last year!!” he looked up at Valerie, a grin as big as could be spread across his face. “Thanks a ton, Val!” He sat, smiling and reading the cover while Valerie checked the time: 10:30 pm. It was getting late…. 

“Could we watch it?” he asked, startling her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah,” she agreed. They moved to the couch, Danny turning the television on and popping the movie into the DVD Player on the way. They snuggled close in the mildly chilly room, enjoying chips, a horror movie, and each other’s company.

[betterfor4-blog]

My Pursuit of Happiness Manifesto

--- In a nutshell (to take the time to read or not): This post gives context to my life, why I have started this blog, the clear goals I have set for my family and how I am going to manage it. ----

Dear Universe and the Human Race,

The Context of My Life

Thank you for my life.  Through nothing else but chance and luck I find myself truly blessed (in a completely non-religious way).  Even if I didn’t intend, plan or pursue it, I find myself in my late 30s with a beautiful old-fashioned, very-not-cool nuclear family.  We could be the poster family for hetero-normative, white, 2 young kids and a dog in an average brick house.  Please don’t for a second though think that I believe or promote this as the only way as being.  This is the context for my life, however, I am open-minded and supportive of all the different kinds of ways that family and love exists in this world. 

I acknowledge that I live on this planet in a way many cannot or will never get the opportunity to.  I acknowledge that the way I live is because of the toil of many who will never have my privilege.

Completely off life-plan I married my first love who I met when I was a teenager.  He is intelligent, gorgeous, compassionate, funny, loyal and simply a good person (if not sometimes a little too ‘linear/pragmatic/black and white in his thinking).  We both had opportunities to become well educated and ambition to form our own independent careers.  We both trained and work in the Sciences; I am an educator.  We lived exciting lives with lots of travel and friends and then 3 years ago we welcomed our first lovely daughter into this world (Miss C1).  Late last year our family was completed by our second lovely daughter (Miss C2).

The Reason For This Blog And What I Want In This Life

I am genuinely happy, 8/10, like Scandinavian happy (those guys have it all worked out).  I know who I am and I am very clear in my mind about my goals, values and ambitions for myself and my family.   I have prefaced and contextualized my life in this post however, as my problems are slight, though they still exist an I am in pursuit of  happiness (9 and 10 numbers).

I want to live meaningfully in this life and raise my girls consciously and with clear intent.  I want our family activities, daily life and conversations to be ‘rich’ in the holistic manner of the word rather than the dollars and cents version.  I want for a lot and have some clear goals/thoughts:

1. MINIMALISM - I want to live better with less...

-  I want to spend less on the stuff we don’t need.  

- I don’t want to waste things (especially food and other such resources). 

-  I want every item in our home to bring joy, be useful and used frequently. 

- I wish to invest in family experiences more than things.

- I don’t want to get caught up in the fast fashion cycle, buying my girls $2 t-shirts that last 3 washes and are thrown away at the cost of both environment and people.  

- I want high quality goods that are fixed or re-purposed rather than just thrown away.

- I want to our modest block of land to be productive for 

- I don’t want to spend my life cleaning or battling with storing stuff making our home and lives less enjoyable.

- I want a clean and organised house that I don’t have to feel burdened by maintaining but I am not ashamed by unexpected guests.

2. Experiential Based Family Life - I want our daily lives to be rich in conversation and experiences.

- Less Screen time or maybe more meaningful screen time for everybody.

- More games and playing.

- More travel and family experiences more frequently.

- More nature in our daily lives.  More getting outside.

- Ensure my girls get the best education possible by exposing them to opportunities and educational experiences.  Peppa Pig is not nearly educational enough (read severe sarcasm).

3. HEALTH - A Healthier Family

For us health comes in 3 pillars: sleep, food and exercise.  To be honest all are crumbling a little at the moment...

- I am overweight and have been my entire adult life and I want to rectify that for the most important reason in the world; it gives me the best chance to be with my family for the longest amount of time.  I’ll blog about this later.

- I want my family to eat well and diversely.  I want my girls to have a good relationship with food where no food is forbidden.  I need to create strategies and structures to allow and develop this.

- We need to be working towards 8 hours of sleep a night, the girls need more.  

- We need strategies in our lives than ensures that Mum and Dad are getting at least 10,000 steps a day and some cardio (I would love to know how far Miss C1 goes in a Day).

4. IMPROVE MY IDENTITY CAPITAL - be the best Mum I can be.

I think for the first time in my life I am ready to live by the wisdom of ‘taking care of yourself before others’ (the old apply your oxygen mask in a plane emergency before helping others).  I am tapped out, my cup is dry... whatever you want to call it.  

Basically, I am a stay at home Mum with 2 girls under 3 and I am TIRED.  Not just sleep deprived but emotionally exhausted.  I feel like junk and everywhere I look I see work to be done.  Worst thing yet, I just returned from a holiday super relaxed.  Which was good, because it reinforced to me that I am more than run down, I am depleted.

I want more ‘arrows  in my quiver’.  In short, as my husband would put it I need more diverse identity capital.  I need to my life to be filled with hobbies and activities and people to recover some of my energy and zest for life.  Yet at the same time I feel the Social Media Direct Messenger culture of 21st Century melts my mind a little. 

Previously, my job consumed me and that is the way I liked it.  I have chosen however to sacrifice my career in order to give my girls the best chance (see goal 2-5).  Staying at home was not an emotionally easy choice, but an easy logical one.  I am an educator.  This is what I do.  The idea of returning to work (when I didn’t have to) and allowing someone else to raise and educate my girls at this early stage seemed like insanity.  I am also lucky that the system I work for holds my job for me for about 6 years.   But back to the point, it left a career sized hole in my life that of late has been harder to fill. 

My mind is a fog of fruit pouches, nappies and nursery rhymes.  Yet, I know that this time of my life will pass faster than I will in retrospect have liked it to.  Before it does though I need to write in full sentences on a regular basis.  I need to stretch my mind.  I need to model to my girls how you can work towards a work-life balance.

Vainly, I am also in desperate need of a Mum makeover.  I need some Mum style before my girls start school.  B.C. (before children) I had work clothes and a few casual pieces.  2 pregnancies and no work later I am adrift in my new life, at least style wise, and it has left me feeling fairly invisible.

5. WEALTH - I want us all to be grateful for what we have and show that.

This one really doesn’t need dot points.  My family are privileged and that is not a crime, but to become entitled or not appreciate our good fortune, well that is.  I want us to not waste and give back where we can as often as we can. 

As for our actual finances.  I figure if we live more mindfully with less we will spend less.  The money we save will be able to fund our experiences and travel.  It is the old “take care of the cents and the dollars will take care of themselves” approach.   I will be exploring this later though.

Summary

So on rereading this, two things I note.

- I sound far more ‘hippy-dippy’ than I feel I am, but the list is accurate.  I wonder if this resonates with other 21st Century slightly left-leaning Mum’s out there?  Where is my tribe?

- I am WAY daunted by this list.  To set an appropriate mental image I am sitting at my dining room table eating a carrot as the baby bashes her drink bottle on her highchair pulverizing crackers into dust (now on the floor) and the toddler is talking to me asking constant ‘why’ questions.  The latest question was “why do doctors say you can’t jump on the bed?” referring to the song ‘5 little Monkies’.  Both of these things are an improvement from 30 minutes ago where they were both competing to press any buttons they could on my laptop.

How Will I Achieve This?

Don’t know in short.  But I know this... I cancelled my gym membership recently because getting there with the two girls was near impossible and ridiculously expensive once I paid for the creche for the both of them.  I felt like I had lost something too.  Like the cards were proverbially stacked against me and my fitness goals as a stay at home Mum (CHAINED TO THE HOUSE I TELL YOU).  On the way home though I questioned why I honestly needed the gym, more specifically an instructor telling me to ‘sashay’.  I decided on two reasons.  The first, the group environment means I won’t quit as I would never give in when being observed by others.  The second, because the instructor had the knowledge.   

It occurred to me on that trip home that I could replace those classes with YouTube and a blog.  A blog to keep me honest and check in (even if no one reads it) and YouTube for the knowledge.  The internet is a global community of ‘DIY knowledge’ and all I had to do was harness it.

So that is the strategy for this blog.  I am going to use the power of the internet to learn, share and record my improvements.  

How Will I Measure Progress And What Is The Timeline?

I am going to have to research that on the internet (LOL).  I think I am going to need different tools for different aspects of my life.

I am going to start by posting Mon, Wed, Fri and tackling a different aspect each time:

Monday - Health

Wednesday - Minimalism

Friday - Experiences

I am writing this to no one in particular and everyone in order to keep myself honest and on track in the way I am going to change our lives. 

The purpose of this blog and particularly long post... I’ve got to be better for the four of us.  I have to live my best life to honor this extraordinary life I have been gifted.

[smileybeanlu]

Lie To Me

A/N: This is the first thing I’ve written in Lord knows how long. This will either by a multi-part, or full fic. Enjoy either way lololol Xx.

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Casual drinking

Part 1

Thirty-two hours doesn’t sound like a long time. It’s enough time for two sleeps, three meals, and a normal day’s length of working and socializing. It’s enough time for thirty-two cakes to be baked, and for a 40-minute album to be played nearly forty times. It’s enough time for someone to think long and hard about a certain aspect of their life.

Are you happy with your life? Are you enjoying what you’ve done thus far? What are you doing to change the things that you don’t like in your life? What have you achieved? What has happened in the past year, and is there anything that is going to change your life from her on out?

Thirty-two hours isn’t a long time, in theory. But when you’re stuck in the driver’s seats of a dark grey Altima, thirty-two hours isa long time. The longer Annie sat there, the more she thought to herself she would never drive again, no matter what the circumstance was. However, that thirty-two hours gave her all the time in the world to think about how her life was going.

Annie wasn’t happy with her life, but she was trying to be.

“Hello?” Annie’s phone began ringing through the Bluetooth speaker of the car, bringing her out of the rabbit hole of thoughts. She knew exactly who was calling her without even looking down at her screen.

“Ann! How much longer have you got left?”

She checked the map she had pulled up on her phone’s screen, sighing in relief when she was able to tell him only thirty minutes left. 

“I’m so tired of driving.” Thirty-two hours was the amount of time it took her to drive from a small town in east Tennessee to Los Angeles. Thirty-two hours was the amount of time it was going to take Annie to start the process of changing everything she didn’t like about her life.

“Sounds good, I’ll see you when you get here.” With that, he hung up. Annie could hear the excitement in his voice. Her phone went silent once more, then resumed playing the country playlist she’d set up to help her make it through the drive.

The past two years of Annie’s life had showed a lot of change for her. Two years ago, she stood in a Nashville bar thanks to a fake identification card that said she was 21. Nashville was one of the best places in the south to be. Country music was inescapable while downtown on Broadway, and the energy that filled the veins of the thousands a people a night only intensified with each sip of alcohol taken.

“We like to drink with Annie, ‘cause Annie is our mate. And when we drink with Annie, she gets it down in 8, 7, 6…” Annie took a deep breath as her group of friends finished counting down the drinking chant. I plucked the straw out of my third beer and started to chug, knowing that if I didn’t finish it before they got to the number 1, she would be forced to drink another. She slammed the empty glass down on the bar top and her three best friends began whooping and hollering around her.

After standing still for a second and surveying the crowd around her, she heard Emily order another round of shots. Emily was always fun to be around on a night out, but she wasn’t sure how much longer of the intense drinking she was going to be able to stomach. Her face was already flushed, her stomach was warm, and her eyes were beginning to get heavy. Despite the way her eyes felt though, she locked them with a boy sitting across the crowded, downtown bar. His dark eyes were a source of light for her in a dimly lit venue. She looked away only for a second to pick up the fireball shot and looked immediately back into his eyes as she cheered her friends, tapped the shot glasses to bar top, and threw the alcohol into her mouth.

She moved away from the side of the bar in which she stood and watched as he stood from the stool he’d been sitting on. She pulled down on the black dress her friends had convinced her to go in. As soon as she arrived on the dance floor, she turned and found the bright-eyed boy behind her. “What’s your name?” he yelled over the music.

“Annie,” she responded, putting a single hand on his forearm and inching closer to him. She wasn’t one to typically do this, but something felt so right about this mystery man.

“I’m Calum.” He had an accent, but it wasn’t one she was able to place between the amount of alcohol she had consumed, or the bass making her entire boy vibrate. The two of them danced to the country music, to the rap songs that were randomly thrown in, and sang to the throwbacks. They spent the rest of the night together.

That was one of the best nights of Annie’s life – granted, only being 19 years old, she had only experienced so much. But meeting Calum was a turning point for her. No matter how bad of an idea she once thought it was, getting her fake ID turned into one of the best decisions she’d ever make. It gave her a night she would never forget. And despite the dancing, grinding, and little bit of kissing that went on between the two of them that night, they realized soon after that the two of them would never amount to anything in the romantic sense. Traditionally speaking, opposites attract. But it was a different attraction than anything Annie had ever felt before. Calum was someone that just gother. He was always one step ahead in knowing where she was at, and he was able to figure out her and her tendencies from what felt like nothing. He just knew.

Ever since that night, the two of them had done the majority of their bonding over messages. Annie would receive FaceTimes from the tall boy, with a sleepy smiles and curious eyes, more often than not. He would send snapchats from his life across the globe, and Annie would do the same. Calum’s life was a world of different from her own and the way she lived it, but he always tried to show his intentions of keeping her around. It was that devotion that prompted Annie to make the thirty-two hour drive to California.

Moving was always something she wanted to do. She grew up in a town with less than 10,000 people, and one of the best jobs you could have in the county was doing something in the agriculture industry. She knew at a young age she would never be able to fall in line of every member of her family and take over the milk company they ran. She knew at a young age she wanted to get out of Jefferson County and make a life for herself somewhere else. She just didn’t know how she was going to do anything of this either – until she met Calum.

The past two years have consisted of many reality checks for Annie. It was only two weeks after meeting Calum that Annie came clean of wanting to be a writer. Calum supported the idea from day one, always telling her he would do anything to see that come true for her. Calum never said anything she had ever heard before – everyone always told her that it was a bad idea, due to the lack of money she was likely to be earning, the lack of job security she was going to have, and the underwhelming success rate of young people establishing a name for themselves so early in the game.

After thirty more minutes of driving, Annie’s phone once again vibrated and the Australian voice she had chosen for Siri said, “you have arrived at your destination.” When she got out of her car, she looked to see the one story house Calum shared with one of his best friends. The roof, a black metal material, reflected the afternoon sun, making the outside world seem that much brighter to Annie’s tired eyes. The landscaping in the front of the house was beautiful, with each flower and plant so carefully positioned to lead up to the cooper front door of the house Annie would be staying in for a few months. The door swung open seconds later, revealing the Kiwi boy.

“Annie!” He said, walking up to her. He opened his arms and she walked into them, wrapping her own around his neck and allowing him to pick her up into the air. He smelt cologne and smoke – a smell Annie hadn’t experienced in such a long time.

“Hi Calum,” she giggled, pulling away from the hug as Calum sat her down. She had a burst of excitement and energy upon placing her Birkenstock clad feet onto the pavement. Except she wasn’t sure if it truly was excitement. It was a huge move to go from living in a small town with less than ten-thousand people, to over three million. It was a huge move to go from being surrounded by her closest friends and family to having only one person she really knew that she could count on. It was a huge move to start a new job with no prior experience and bank on what Calum always said to her: “everything will be okay.”

And that’s something Annie just had to trust.