#i realize most of these perks are extremely op

[lintwriting]

How to Write Intelligent Characters (Like Wei Wuxian!)

Wei Wuxian has a really bad memory, but he is also smart enough to realize this and then use it to insult people as a joke—WITH plausible deniability to shield him from any potential consequences.

This interplay between extreme intelligence, comical brain farts, and layered social interaction is what makes MDZS so fun to read because it creates a real complexity to both him and his environment. There are multiple layers going on in this scene, with in-jokes and social factions and miscommunications, as there is in reality. And it’s a tangible demonstration of his intelligence, that he’s able to think of this deception in the first place and so casually.

But also it make the story less monotonous by having this complexity. 3 layers.

There the first layer.

“Extremely intelligent character” Like gadget inventor characters or nerdy hackers. Their hyper intelligence is useful for plot reasons, and highly competent characters are likable. And this is not bad for a side character.

It can go too far, however, such as in the case with BBC Sherlock, when the author makes the character so hyper intelligent he becomes an unbelievable god character and wraps back around to being dislikable again. Like the author’s personal pet character who can do no wrong with the excuse of his intelligence allowing him to do anything, leading to extreme annoyance whenever he’s on screen, which is all the time bc he the main character (is that just me?) lol

Then there’s the second layer to break up the monotony of intelligence.

Wei Wuxian has shit memory. Like laughably shit memory. Much like how video games create perks that also give you cons in specific ways to make your decision to use it more satisfyingly personal, like choosing to wear shitty armor that looks pretty because you value style over function, Wei Wuxian’s extreme intelligence is often undercut by scenes of extreme brain farts.

Whether it be an almost painful level of obliviousness or an extreme failed memory check, Wei Wuxian gains a flaw that not only makes him human and therefore relatable, but also unique in the pantheon of genius characters out there because he’s a genius in THIS SPECIFIC NICHE (trademarked).

This nuance/uniqueness/realness, thus, will allow his character to say more about the real world than mr god intelligence BBC Sherlock.

For the most obvious one, he’s a persuasive essay on why intelligence is not predicated on good memory, which maps well onto his larger character trait of being a intelligent slacker in school (of which the number one complaint is that it is immaterial to actual learning and only really tests memory).

What does BBC Sherlock say, beyond the idea that a god has no need for human rules? That IS a message, but a hypothetical one, as most people will never get to that level of comical intelligence for it to be relevant. Well, I guess assholes (who are less smart than they think) use characters like him as excuses to be dicks, so there's that, but I think that's proof of how legitimately unrealistic he is. He's the power fantasy of teen boys and maladjusted adults, like Rick Rick and Morty.

The third layer is him remembering that he has shit memory and using it to his advantage.

THIS is the part that gets to me THE MOST about his character and arguably the part where MXTX proved (to me) that she’s a better writer than BBC Sherlock writing staff, especially when it come to OP or intelligent characters.

There’s an ELEVATION that happens on this third layer. This is where your character goes from a smart character to a smart person to an ABSOLUTE GOAT. This is the hype that the BBC Sherlock crew wanted when doing a smart god character but absolutely failed to nail deadass, Jesus-style.

Cheatcodes to Writing Intelligence

For one, it’s putting her money where her mouth is. BBC Sherlock creates hyper intelligence by bending the plot to Sherlock's will, like one of those Twitter fake "oracle" accounts that make predictions and then retroactively delete the wrong ones to make them look psychic.

It's not true prediction, and neither is Sherlock solving a mystery unsolvable to the audience because the writer can cheat and handwave his logic — THE VERY THING BEING SHOWCASED — by just showing Sherlock being right all the time about random things we couldn't know ourselves.

(And in Sherlock, this is mostly downplayed because the mystery is less important than the character drama (send prayers for Johnlock), but it goes from a subversion to a Game Of Thrones subversion (derogatory) when the show starts failing at the character drama too, making his stupid caricature of intelligence insulting instead of an interesting exploration of a hypothetical god trying to grow up human, Jesus-style.)

Wei Wuxian also has this hand-wave-y aspect to his intelligence. We're told and shown he's a genius inventor through the cheat code of the world's magic system. Magic without rules is famously hard to write well because any story's conflict can be solved with "well a wizard came and saved the day through GOD-like abilities" if the author is too lazy to write a satisfying conclusion.

Wei Wuxian is the inventor of Necromancy, and while yes this is sort of explained through a scene where he's arguing against the establishment to his cultivation teacher, the logic of it is very simple. "What if we reversed energy? (simplification of what he actually said)," the reality of his genius invention of necromancy is just that it's the author saying "well Wei Wuxian did it through his GOD-LIKE intelligence."

What we really get out of this is that his COUNTERCULTURAL HERESY (Galileo-Style) is revolutionary. Not so much his logic being revolutionary when the concept is THIS simple (haha reverse evil suppressing wards to get an evil attracting ward go brrr). But the story handwaves this away with just making other characters utter trash at necromancy, cheating at making him seem like a genius in comparison (simplified for scope, there's more to this).

IF that were all there was to him, he'd only be a 2 layer AT MOST. Instead, we have this third layer, where he directly reacts to information the reader has received in witty ways. (This also makes him self reacting, which is what makes us human)

The Structure of Setting Up Intelligence

Part of what makes mysteries so satisfying is that the reader is rewarded for paying attention/engagement. If they notice a clue that becomes a part of the detective's explanation later on, it's like a puzzle falling into place, where you feel like a special big boy for noticing. And if the detective manages to solve it where you didn't despite having all these clues, YOU become the dumb shitty necromancer jobber who makes Wei Wuxian look good in comparison. Metaphorically.

Similarly, we have all the clues. Wei Wuxian is smart and resourceful. Wei Wuxian forgets a lot of things. Wei Wuxian gets told he's forgotten a lot of things. What's the next logical step? Wei Wuxian smartly uses his forgetfulness as a resource!

2. At the beginning of the book, he accidentally snubs a side character by responding "I don't even know who you are" (simplified for scope's sake). At the time, he genuinely is fumbling here, messing up his social standing because of an actual brain fart, but in a way that's hilarious and better-than-you, so we think nothing of it... until he learns from this mistake right in front of our eyes!

Because later on, he REPEATS this line to the SAME character to legitimately snub them when they were making accusations of him personally attacking them. Not only is this an infuriating snub done on purpose this time, but it's a lie—Wei Wuxian remembered this asshole after the many many dumb dramas with them.

3. But it's a useful lie because it demonstrates a truth—WEI WUXIAN DIDN'T ATTACK THEM. Wei Wuxian would have motive to attack them hypothetically (read: dumb dramas), but the reality is that he doesn't care about them enough to do so, for all intents and purposes making them "forgotten" to Wei Wuxian. Best of all, people believed him because HE'S DONE THIS EXACT THING BEFORE. The plot is repeating, but nothing feels the same. LAYERS absolutely destroying MONOTONY.

3. On top of that, it's a reaction to himself. He's demonstrating both metacognition and self-awareness, here, which is something actively studied in psychology as a phenomenon humans have that other animals might not, a la Dunning Kruger and the mirror test, respectively. What's more human than cringing at your un-self-awareness and learning from it?

And the best part is that we were on every step of this journey. It feels like such an obvious move to make now, like duh you can use your forgetfulness as a form of weaponized incompetence—guys do it all the time (derogatory). Wei Wuxian even does this in a cute way with his sister when he does Sajiao/aegyo at her to get her attention (affectionate).

4. But it truly hits different seeing him do it in such a specifically crafted story, structured like a mystery or a joke where the logic or punchline is him pretending to have bad memory, and I personally would never have thought of doing this on the spot like he did. This is some post-argument hindsight shower thought shit. Genius power fantasy done well.

Shit like this is STORYTELLING and STORY CRAFTING. The repetition of the scene to make his second snub more potent. THIS IS THE POWER OF SET UP AND PAYOFF. A unique usage of the adage of how a character's greatest strength is their greatest weakness, like someone's determination making them bull-headed and stubborn. Except in reverse, necromancy style, where a fatal flaw (his memory) becomes a great strength (plausible deniability). A simple example of how characterization is about specific traits in unique ways to SHOW us his personality better than the author just telling you he's smart ever could, like in BBC Sherlock. THE POWER OF SHOWING NOT TELLING. The interplay of the contradictions within his intelligence as a way to show that he's "real" and not a god. THE POWER OF DEPTH.

All this while he is quite literally the god of his story (Jesus-style).

That's right! Time for pointing out the idolization and mythologizing of Galileo!

Now I don't know if this is true because fact checking in Chinese fandoms is a nightmare when 1. your chinese is barely fluent and 2. most chinese socmed platforms require a chinese phone number to sign up. 3. these two facts leads to a lot of fandom telephone. But I remember someone quoting MXTX on the idea that Wei Wuxian and his love interest are supposed to be the moral paragons of this story (despite the way Wei Wuxian has been demonized *haha get it? demonic cultivation. his ghost cultivation got called demonic cultivation in the most on the nose misnomer in history*). This is probably not a true quote, but it's emblematic of how it feels to be reading this story.

For one, Wei Wuxian is quite literally the moral paragon. He's one of like 3 people actively against a genocide (other than its victims). A genocide that characters within the positions of power go along with for what boils down to personal convenience's sake (ALL EYES ON RAFAH). He's one of the few characters to truly master resentment AKA ENVY (aka WEI "No Envies" WUXIAN) in a story where basically all the bad stuff happens due to envy (funnily enough the actual evil villain of the story is probably the only opp who wasn't actually jealous of him, despite arguably being the one who not only was the most envious of the whole series and the one whose envy would make sense, being narrative foils with Wei Wuxian and all). You'd never see Wei Wuxian wishing evil upon someone out of jealousy (he quite literally sacrifices himself to save his "unrequited" "crush's" "crush").

For two, this world is set in ancient times, where killing was still wrong but also simultaneously seen as honorable, like with Odysseus killing his wife's suitors in revenge being seen as honorable, DESPITE him hating it when the cyclops killed HIS crew in revenge for sheep lol. Wei Wuxian has slaughtered many people, but often in circumstances that soften the immorality of it, like the insanity defense or self defense or "this is war in ancient china" or stopping a genocide. And he acknowledges that these wrongs were still wrongs and does good in the world/changes as a person to atone.

For three, he's god damned OP. In a magic system where enlightenment is directly tied to magical ability, Wei Wuxian is one of the most powerful magic users in their world. Top of his generation, beat out only by his love interest, kinda. Morality is tied to cultivation, which is why it's called the "righteous" sects.

But it gets better, because those sects are not actually righteous. The vast majority are hypocrites or worse, and their work mostly involves killing things for "mundane" people, who treat them like nobility for doing so (depth in contradiction). The implication is sorta kinda that Wei Wuxian so powerful BECAUSE Wei Wuxian is one of the few to actually be righteous and not just self-righteous.

Thus, him being the inventor, the only non-noble, and only user of ghost path cultivation, the reverse of cultivation, thus serves to highlight his moral integrity in comparison, even when being called a heretic (depth in contradiction).

(And while people argue that his cultivation ITSELF is evil, causing the souls of the dead to be unable to reincarnate, I'd argue that that reading is a misread that gets distracted by thinking "demonic" and "ghost" cultivation are the same thanks to his title as the grandmaster of DEMONIC cultivation, when they're not the same (again, misnomer). In reality, he's the only successful user of the ghost path, which is about EMPATHY (Wei Wuxian's most signature magical ability after his flute playing skills) for the dead, playing into their resentment to help them pass, like he said in the very scene where he defies the establishment of his school and initially defines his path. The shitty jobber demonic cultivators are going evil and shit because it's actually pretty hard to put yourself in people's worst desires and hurts (wwx still went insane lol), much less if you yourself are controlled by resentment like Xue Yang or Su She was, who both technically "empathize" in that they're about as resentful as ACTUAL ghosts LMAO.)

Anyways, all this to say that the entire story is structured around hiding the fact that Wei Wuxian is the bestest guy ever embroiled in a huge mystery, who gets slandered and killed by his opps for standing up against powerful oppressors before coming back to life and clearing his name... (jesus-style). A lot of the book is him morality mogging or witty mogging randos, many of whom are cartoonishly evil or rude. Dare I say it? Yes. Like BBC Sherlock.

BOOM. Gallileo becomes the myth.

BBC SHERLOCK 🤝WEI WUXIAN

Whew, I finally brought it back around to my original point.

THIS is why Wei Wuxian is everything BBC Sherlock writers wished they were doing. Because in spite of all their similarities (seriously? both of them have a death period where their lover (rip johnlock) is mourning them before coming back to life??) BBC Sherlock's nowadays gets mercilessly mocked for being a Mary Sue and his fanfic community is dead, meanwhile Wei Wuxian is so beloved by his readers that MDZS fanfic literally has had such a huge impact it got Ao3 banned in China and then added a maximum to tags on Ao3 PERIOD. King shit.

And despite what this post seems, it's not a disparagement of BBC Sherlock as a character. I loved him, I loved the idea of exploring this demigod. Superwho-manly intelligent, but in ways that make it hard for him to function in the human world (until John). His struggles with ostracism, "weird" interests, sensory issues, etc. are alarmingly human and a great allegory for neurodivergence (while not being one of those cringe "autism savant" tropes bc he isn't literally autistic). Sherlock fic popped off for a reason, it's just that the writing of the show didn't do the legwork work that MDZS did to support his character as a god, instead it mostly did shit like "oh it's okay I'm a pretentious asshole because I'm a genius and always magically right, even when I'm wrong, because I'm god." Like if Rick Rick and Morty wasn't self-aware... T_T

That's why this post is me compiling the ways Wei Wuxian's character was crafted to be intelligent. It's not bad to have power fantasy OP characters, but it's hard to do them as well as him. It's not just the clever deceptions or witty usage of words with multiple meanings or the self-awareness and learning, or giving the intelligence flaws to make it more believable. Sherlock had all these and more.

It's the combination of it all, usually in the order of "telling" they're intelligent through abstract things like other characters saying he's really good at detectivework and them magically solving cases, then complicating that intelligence through some kind of flaw, then "showing" him overcoming that complication using concrete examples of intelligence, such as self-awareness, witty double entendres/callbacks, contradictorily using weakness or appearing weak for specific gains, and reframing the given 'clues' in a new light with the help of red herrings. This is like a steelman persuasive essay format, but with proving that someone is smart. Thesis, counter, rebuttal with quantitative evidence. There's like a mini arc build up to a mini climax/climactic moment that makes it satisfying.

The set up and payoffs are key here, as a lot of these just require a bit of legwork before the payoff, such as Wei Wuxian repeating the same line he used as a mistake into one he does on purpose or find a scenario where forgetfulness is actually helpful in deceptions or whatever the chosen scenario is. Much easier to begin with the end in mind in and then retroactively write the beginning to match, instead of creating an impossible mystery, after all. 😭😭 Best part is that I didn’t even compare the mystery writing of MDZS to Sherlock’s ass mysteries, I did it purely on the strength of how its intelligence is utilized for character drama, just as Moffat and his defenders would have wanted.

[storiesofwildfire]

v; death is not an escape ( Dead by Daylight verse )

tracktag ( CURRENT )

status; OPEN ships; MULTI

CHAPTER ONE – Ragnarök

Survivor: Loki Laufeyson Killer: Jörmungandr Lokison (aka The Serpent)

For many years, Loki Laufeyson eluded all those who came looking for him. A lonely God doomed to wander the Nine Realms alone, exiled by himself to keep a far distance from the rest of the Gods who deemed him and his children monsters. Odin sent search parties to find him, spies to keep tabs on him, and even the occasional bounty hunter to take his head from his shoulders for a high price.

No one succeeded. Most never found him and those who did never returned to Asgard. No one could catch him.

Until the Entity spawned.

By the time the Entity made itself a known problem, Loki had taken to traveling on Midgard with his Earthbound son, Jörmungandr. Being the only one of Loki’s children with any real freedom, Loki had an easy time meeting up with him and touring the world. Some much needed and long overdue mother-son bonding was just the thing to take Loki’s mind off of the horrors he left behind on Asgard.

The duo didn’t get very far into their travels, however. While Aesir agents had an impossible time tracking the rogue deity, the Entity certainly did not. By that time, numerous people had gone missing, snatched up, never to be heard from again. Loki and his son never bothered to pay attention to a few missing Midgardians. The world was full of terrors and people did horrible things to one another for no reason at all. Getting worked up over every single person that went missing would make for a pretty awful existence.

But Loki should have listened, should have paid more attention to the warning signs, and, above all else, should have kept to more populated areas. The Entity only seemed to pray on those isolated from society, those who did not mingle with the other people in their surroundings. People who would not be missed, people who would not be noticed if they simply... weren’t around anymore. People who weren’t even supposed to exist in the first place, perhaps?

A deity from a religion long past and his monstrous child, even?

They took a brief break from their travels when the opportunity to liberate Fenrir from Odin’s prison came to them. Naturally, they took the opportunity and brought Fenrir to Midgard, but he was wounded. Resources needed to be gathered to care for him properly, so Loki asked a dear friend of his to keep watch over his son while he and Jörmungandr went searching for the artifact they thought they needed.

Exploring the forests of Scandinavia, no one knew where to look for them. No one knew that they should, in fact, be worried about them at all. The pair decided to explore the lands of those who worshipped them so many moons ago, the birthplace of their Midgardian mythos. It seemed like the best spot for the artifact to be. They spent three days and three nights in the forests without incident. The fourth day proved difficult, though.

The density of the forest grew overwhelming, blanketing them in darkness even during the brightest hours of the day. They couldn’t seem to tell North from South and continuously walked around in circles. Eventually, they wound up at the exact same campsite they’d been the night before and were forced to make camp, lest they risk getting lost even further. Even teleporting wasn’t an option. The forest seemed to dampen both of their magic, making it difficult to use.

“Mum?” Jörmungandr murmured as he settled down beside their fire.

“Yes, darling?”

“What’s going on in these woods?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. We’ll be out soon enough.”

Silence fell over the pair. They both knew it was unlikely that something could truly hurt them, but the unease lingered. Jor, despite being several inches taller than his mother and fully grown, moved to sit right beside Loki, even going as far as to lean again the God for comfort.

“We’re going to be fine, love,” Loki reaffirmed.

“What if the Aesir find Fenrir while we’re gone? Or what if they find us while we’re stuck out here without our magic? They’ll take you back to Asgard and they’ll murder me for being the monster that they believe me to be.”

“You’re not a monster, Jor, and no one is going to do anything to us. I won’t allow that.”

If only Loki understood what was keeping them trapped in the thickening fog of the nighttime forest. The Entity spawned above them, casting its shadow onto the area. It never took such powerful beings hostage before, but their misery and their isolation drew it in. They were perfect for its methods of sustaining and entertaining itself, but it took the creature a few days to truly rob them of all of their escape routes.

Loki and Jörmungandr were never heard from again, but the Entity could not strip them of everything they were.

It could, however, pit them against one another.

SURVIVOR PERKS AND ABILITIES

Rare Loki Laufeyson Perk – Mirage Grants the ability to project brief mirrors of one’s self wherever the survivor is standing. The mirror becomes instantly visible to the killer and will even move about the immediate area to points of interest (generators, pallets, chests, etc.), while the survivor goes completely undetected for 15 seconds. In those ten seconds, the survivor cannot be seen or heard by the killer. The mirror will fade if the killer interacts with them.

Rare Loki Laufeyson Perk – Charmed Electrician Skill checks are wildly increased, granting a better chance at a great skill check and less chance of missing a skill check. Survivors with Charmed Electrician are immune to certain generator tampering such as Hex: Ruin and Overcharged. When two or more survivors are working on a single generator, grants a buff of 20% faster repair rate per survivor.

Rare Loki Laufeyson Perk – Storyteller Unlocks potential in survivor’s aura reading abilities. Killer becomes visible for five seconds upon finding a survivor, standing within 18 meters of a survivor, or picking up a survivor’s trail by blood or scratch marks. Other survivors still present in the trial will also be alerted to the killer’s location.

KILLER PERKS AND ABILITIES

Rare The Serpent Perk – Friend or Foe Grants the killer a fifteen second period of placing an illusion over their form, giving them the appearance of one of the survivors in the trail so they can quickly gain the trust of those around them and make a quick strike after backing their prey into a corner.

Rare The Serpent Perk – Eye of the Serpent Unlocks potential in killer’s aura reading by allowing the killer to track the heat signatures of nearby survivors. If a survivor is within 20 meters, they will become visible for 3 seconds. Killer’s sight is also heightened and widened. Precision is key in everything, including how well you see.

Rare The Serpent Perk – Poison of the Fang Every strike you deliver has the chance of implementing the poison effect on the injured survivor. Poisoned survivors have 90 seconds to cure themselves at various ritual sites around the map. If they fail to do so, they automatically enter the dying state. If the survivor is not healed by another survivor in 60 seconds, the survivor will succumb to the poison and perish.

CHAPTER TWO – The Binding

Survivor: Sebastian Castellanos Killer: Fenrir Lokison (aka The Dweller)

Perhaps a less likely duo than our first chapter, Sebastian Castellanos found himself taking in a shape-shifting wolf by the name of Fenrir. Naturally, Sebastian never would have believed such a creature existed, but after his time in STEM and meeting a literal God, it became easier to digest. Loki came to him with a request.

“Please watch after my son. He is still recovering and needs someone to look after him when I cannot. You’re one of the few on this realm that I trust. Can I count on you?”

“Of course.”

The God promised he would only be gone for a few days, gathering supplies with Fenrir’s elder brother during one of their trips. Sebastian thought little of it. While many stories and people painted Loki’s children to be monsters, Seb knew what a real monster looked like and Fenrir definitely did not fit the bill.

But Loki and Jörmungandr never came home. Several days passed without word. Sebastian didn’t worry. What could harm a God and his offspring? A foolish question, he supposed, since he met Loki inside of STEM and the whole reason Fenrir needed so much time to recover was because he’d been so badly injured during his time in Odin’s captivity. Still, the detective tried to stay positive while he looked after the disguised wolf. Fenrir hardly woke for anything more than food anyway.

A week passed, though, followed by another, and while Fenrir grew stronger, no word came from the wolf’s mother. Sebastian tried to reach Loki, tried to reach Jörmungandr, but failed every time.

“We ought to go searching for them,” Fenrir suggested halfway through the third week. “This is unlike my mother.”

“Loki didn’t even tell us where they were going. Where do we begin?” Sebastian asked as he dished out some homemade stew. The detective wasn’t the best cook in the world, but Fenrir didn’t seem to mind. As long as it was high in protein, he’d eat just about anything.

“I could track them,” the wolf suggested.

“By scent?”

“No.” Fenrir fixed Sebastian with a rather annoyed expression. “With magic, idiot.”

“Oh... right. I just thought, because, ya know, the wolf thing, you might...” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, I’m just... still getting used to the idea that magic and gods are real.”

Fenrir nodded, excusing Sebastian’s stumbling as a human lost in a world that made no logical sense to them. They had more important things to worry about, anyway, like tracking Fenrir’s missing family members. The wolf, despite still trying to recuperate, set to work on tracking his mother and brother, only to find that they... weren’t turning up. He contacted Hel, hoping that she may have some answers or, at the very least, could confirm if they were dead, but his sister only reported back much of the same.

Hel, however, had always been wildly gifted in the ways of magic, even in ways that her brothers were not, and she was at least able to track Loki’s last known location.

“Wait for me. I will come with you to locate them,” she instructed.

“We don’t have time,” Fenrir insisted. “Sebastian and I will go now.”

And they did...

SURVIVOR PERKS AND ABILITIES

Rare Sebastian Castellanos Perk – Light the Way Survivor starts the trial with an old lantern with enough oil to burn for 2 minutes. Burning the lantern makes generator repair easier, increasing the speed by 50%. Searching chests, sabotaging hooks, and healing are also increased by 50% when the lantern is lit. It also makes finding other relevant points of interest easier to spot, making the survivor’s line of sight further and clearer. Oil can be found around the map to replenish the lantern’s supply but be careful! The lantern may make tasks easier, but the survivor will be much easier to spot.

Rare Sebastian Castellanos Perk – Catching Fire Survivor starts the trial with an old lantern and a box of matches. When the lantern is lit, the survivor can smash the lantern against the killing, momentarily stunning them and setting them on fire. The survivor can also toss a match at a flammable object to start a fire that will spread and create a temporary barrier that the killer cannot cross. Lantern light makes the survivor easier to locate. Other survivors can be harmed by the flames as well, instantly putting them into the dying state if hit.

Rare Sebastian Castellanos Perk – Trick Shot Survivor starts the trial with a revolver with an empty clip. Upon killer attack, the survivor can hit the killer with the handle of the gun, momentarily stunning the killer. There is, however, a single bullet in one of the chests around the map. If the survivor finds it, they have one shot to hit the killer. A body shot will stun the killer for 90 seconds. A headshot will stun the killer for 3 full minutes and grant 50% generator repair speeds. As soon as the gun is fired, regardless of if the bullet lands or misses, the survivor becomes visible to the killer for 30 seconds upon killer’s first step.

KILLER PERKS AND ABILITIES

Rare The Dweller Perk – God Eater Power from the Entity flows freely through your veins, granting you the ability to mori the first survivor you come across without having to put them into the dying state or hook them. One remaining survivor will be granted 100% chance of escaping their hook once and luck for all survivors increases moderately.

Rare The Dweller Perk – Howls of Rage You let off a serious of loud snarls, growls, and howls. Nearby survivors are so frightened by your presence, they scream in terror, revealing their location for five seconds. The more you frighten the survivors, the easier they are to track. Their anxiety causes louder breathing and panting, off-balanced skill checks with smaller zones to hit while healing or repairing generators, and more screams of terror when you are near.

Rare The Dweller Perk – Pack Hunting Your ability to track survivors by scent of blood and fear grants potential in your aura reading abilities. Any time a survivor within 24 meters of you enters a closet, it is revealed to you straight away. Any time a survivor sits in a closet anywhere on the map for more than ten seconds, they become visible to you.

CHAPTER THREE – The Gates of Helheim

Survivor: Hel Lokidottir Killer: Hel Lokidottir (aka The Damned)

In search of her missing mother and idiot brothers, Hel left the safety of her realm and went to Midgard to the last known location of Loki and Jörmungandr. When Fenrir insisted, he would go with a friend without waiting for her, and Hel never received word back, she knew that she needed to find them herself. It didn’t come as a shock or a surprise, really. Out of the lot of them, she seemed the most likely to actually preform correctly under pressure, but even Hel, the Goddess of Death and the Queen of Helheim could not escape the Entity’s hold once she stepped foot into its domain.

Splitting her into a survivor or a killer, however, proved to be tricky. Her true, half-dead appearance made her perfect for a monster that would tear apart survivors without so much as batting an eye. Her living side, however, lent itself to that of a survivor. Despite Hel’s cold and hardened exterior, she had a deeply caring and passionate heart, one that could very well put her at the forefront of a pack of survivors, one that made it nearly impossible to condemn her fully to a life of endless killing.

Nor could the Entity strip away what made her such, so what to do?

For the first time in the stretch of the Entity’s exsitence, it decided to manifest both sides of the coin in one person. A young, beautiful, and intelligent survivor that, when touched by darkness, flipped the script entirely.

At the beginning of each trial, Hel starts as either a survivor or a killer. As a survivor, Hel has incredible abilities, but must keep a close eye on her comrades. Signs of betrayal will pull her closer and closer to the darkness, as judgement must be passed on fellow survivors. If Hel is the victim of a betrayal or she witnesses first hand a betrayal, power surges through her, turning her into the half-dead judger of the damned. Her first kill is automatically a merciless blow on the current killer, wiping them out of the trial. Then the survivor who ignited her change becomes her obsession, always visible to her until they, too, are dead. Other survivors are penalized for helping the betrayer.

As the Damned, the killer ruthlessly passes judgment on the survivors, but the survivors have an added ability to perform cleansing rituals. These rituals force the Entity back, pulling the Damned away from it’s hold. There are four ritual sites. Each site must be cleansed by a different survivor. If the survivors manage to cleanse all of the sites, the Damned will revert back to Hel, a survivor. Without an active killer, the trial ends, and all those still alive will escape.

SURVIVOR PERKS AND ABILITIES

Rare Hel Lokidottir Perk – Gifts for the Giving Any time a survivor performs a coop action, the time it takes to complete that action is cut by 50%. At the same time, the killer is distracted by a false audio cue on the far side of the map, putting as much distance between the killer and the survivors as possible.

Rare Hel Lokidottir Perk – Ghosts of the Damned The survivor is infused with the spirit of the half-dead queen, giving them a second face hidden from view. Other survivors are unaffected by revealing what lies beneath but revealing the true face of the queen will spook a killer. Directly seeing the reveal will stun the killer, forcing them to drop their victims in the process. Being nearby but not in direct contact will fill the killer with a sense of terror at the Entity’s displeasure. The killer’s sight will be impaired severely for 60 seconds, making locating and hitting survivors extremely difficult. Restricted use of 3 times per trial.

Rare Hel Lokidottir Perk – Bridge Between Realms As a survivor, the killer’s instincts run strong through your veins. This unlocks potential in the survivor’s aura reading abilities, allowing them to see the killer’s position every 20 seconds regardless of what the killer is doing.

KILLER PERKS AND ABILITIES

Rare The Damned Perk – Judgement Passed When a survivor leads you to another survivor, you gain a buff to hone in on the betrayer and teleport right behind them. You can grab them without downing them into dying state, but you are not allowed to harm the other found survivors until your catch has been dealt with by hooking them or killing them by your hand.

Rare The Damned Perk – Survivor’s Savior If you catch a survivor assisting another survivor, you have the choice of rewarding that survivor rather than harming them. You will pull the survivor to your side, recruiting them to help you throughout the duration of the trial. They will be forced to assist you in sabotaging generators, protecting totems and ritual sites, and locating survivors. You are not allowed to kill this survivor. They will automatically be guaranteed a survived status at the end of the trial.

Rare The Damned Perk – Rites of Passage There are four ritual sites where survivors can perform the cleansing ritual that will drain you of your power. You must protect them at all costs while hunting your charges. To do this, you can set traps at the entrance of each ritual site. If a survivor steps through this trap, they will instantly be transported to a rune etched into the basement where they will be trapped for 20 seconds. You can choose to retrieve and hook them, but that will leave your ritual site vulnerable to the next survivor.

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Seven - Fix You

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

WARNINGS: Gun talk, mentions of murder, The usual SOA shit. 

An almost unsettling fog blanketed Charming tonight, amplifying the sinister aura that’d been drifting through the town since Stahl had made her mark.

Since June Stahl had made it her mission—her whole purpose—to destroy the Sons Of Anarchy, and anybody that laid in her path.

She was doing a damn good job of that, too.

Isla wasn’t sure what her hasty arrival would mean for the club, but she knew that it wasn’t going to end pretty. She was aware that the bitter agent was just as stiff-necked as Clay, and wasn’t going down without a fucking fight.

Which, a fight, the Sons could do. It was whether they’d all make it out alive that Isla couldn’t predict.

She wouldn’t want to put her money on it either, actually.

“Any word on Bobby?”

“No.” Gemma’s sigh was sad, exhausted. “Rosen swung by just after you left with the she-devil. Said there’s a witness in a safe house willing to testify against Bobby and Ope in court. And if he does stick to his word, they’re going down for murder.”

Choosing to ignore her comment about Tara, Isla continued to pace the room. She held her cell tightly between her pink fingertips, hoping it’d light up and vibrate with a call from Jax, or Tig, or even Happy.

“Shit.” She hissed, mindful of the fact that there was a sleeping baby in Wendy’s arms and any offensive sounds would rouse him in an instant. “Did Clay tell you what their next move was?”

“Yeah. But I don’t think you’re gonna like it, sweetheart.”

She didn’t have to be privy to the plan to know that their next move involved one witness, three men, and a handful of shrapnel bullets.

“Jax know about this?” Almost concerned, Wendy asked. Isla’s ears perked up at that, too, because she wanted to know.

The VP was brutal, he was domineering and harsh when he had to be, but he wanted minimal blood shed. He didn’t host that same massacre mentality as Tig or Clay, and he definitely didn’t desire the sick thrill of gunning down a witness being protected by the fucking ATF.

“I’m assuming that he doesn’t.” The blonde uttered for Gemma after noticing that she was taking a painfully long time to respond. “Clay sent Happy, Tig, and who else? Juice?”

“Not Juice.”

“Did Clay go?” A little bit condescending, like she already knew the answer, Wendy asked. She rocked Abel back and forth as she did so, penetratively glaring at her ex-mother-in-law.

Isla swallowed thickly, stuffing her cell into the back pocket of her jeans when she realized what Gemma was trying to say.

Clay never did his own dirty work—it was always the Sgt. At Arms and whoever else was willing to get the blood on their hands. And her father, the forward-thinking, strong-willed Scotsman, never shied away from a task of this nature.

“It’s okay.” She spoke aloud, elucidating her innermost thoughts. “It’s fine. They’ve got Hap—he’s never been caught before—he knows what he’s doing.”

“And Tig, too. Y’know what he’s like.”

“Yeah.” Reflectively, she spoke. “At least they’d go through with it if my dad couldn’t.”

“You saying that your old man is weak?”

“No.” Isla spat at Wendy, glaring at her. “I’m saying that he has a conscience. Hap and Tig are a little bit hasty with the trigger and don’t tend to think before they execute somebody.”

In agreement, Gemma nodded.

“But it’s gotta be done.” She concluded, sitting on the arm of the couch. “The witness has gotta be dealt with—even if Jax doesn’t know anything about this.”

She felt her heart constrict at the thought of nobody telling the Vice President about their plans to get rid of that man.

The man that had the power to take down Opie and Bobby, and leave a club without their brothers.

Two families without their fathers.

And though it was inherently wrong to commit murder, Isla had been brought up knowing that the Sons got rid of their problems by planting bullets in the skulls of their enemies.

It was bad and immoral, and she couldn’t think of a way to excuse it to anybody on the outside. But to SAMCRO, it was habitual. It was what they did because it worked. Every single time.

“Wait a second.”

“What’s the matter, baby?”

Isla pulled a hand through her hair. “How is Clay so sure that they’re not gonna get caught? Y’know, ‘cuz this witness is being protected by the ATF—“

She was cut short by a delicate, albeit firmer than usual, knock at the door. Isla piqued a brow when Gemma got up to answer.

“They’ve got it covered.” Was all she managed to muster out before she went to see who’d decided to turn up at that hour.

Isla’s brain was doing cartwheels. She was nervous, she was pissed, but, most of all, she was upset that Chibs hadn’t told her where he was going tonight.

She snapped herself out of it, though. When Gemma scoffed as she opened the door and trailed back to her spot on the adjacent couch, Isla’s interests had been roused.

“It’s kinda late for a house call.” Her eyes rolled.

Tara trailed in behind her, feeling uneasy at the mere sight of the SAMCRO Queen and Jax’s ex-wife—but Isla being the only friendly face eased her a little bit.

“I was on my way home from work. Just thought I’d stop by and check in.”

“That’s sweet.” Isla smiled at the brunette, offering her the space next to Wendy. “Here.”

“It’s okay, I’ll stand—“

“No, I insist.” She protested softly, getting up. “It’s been a long day for you, sweetie. I’ll sit by mama bear over there.”

Gemma snorted, trying to figure out just what had happened between the pair for Isla to suddenly be so kind and considerate toward the woman she loathed for the best part of a decade.

But she was drawing a blank, because she realized how stupid that would’ve been to wonder—she was just like that. Nothing had to happen for her to be that way.

Isla was the kind of woman that Gemma wanted to be, while simultaneously being her exact double. She was a cleaner, kinder, brighter version of the matriarch, though she hosted that flicker of something that’d tie her to the battle axe that raised her.

And maybe calling the woman a “battle axe” was a little bit harsh, but it was true—on almost every single count.

Gemma was strong-willed, stubborn, martinent, and she took no shit from anybody. Isla wasn’t like that. She wasn’t a doormat, and she didn’t let people walk all over her, but she never went out of her way to demand respect.

Even though she’d been brought up to know she was better than the other women that lived among the Sons Of Anarchy.

“Is he here?”

“Does it look like he’s here?” Gemma’s lips twitched.

“No, I just…I guess I miss him, you know?”

Wendy nodded, tending to a fidgeting Abel. “Yeah, I do.”

Isla looked between the pair—sadly. She watched two of the most important people in Jax’s life sit side-by-side, meditative and wondering about the positions they had both been thrust into.

He had lived two completely different lives with each woman, and she was grateful to say that she had been present in both.

But to see Jax struggle—to see his heart break twice—was too much for Isla to think about, really.

She had watched Tara walk away, right out of his life without a second glance or even a second thought. And it was painful to discern. Painful to know that her best friend had lost the love of his life because she felt that she was too good to stick around for him.

Isla knew that wasn’t the entire truth, and that Tara was just doing a good thing for herself. But, at the time, she was young and stupid and extremely closed-minded when it came to the people that wronged the ones she loved, and all she wanted to do was hate that woman.

She’d grown up a lot since then, though. Isla was a different person entirely—a better version of herself—and she understood each reason behind every last thing Tara did when she did it.

Even if Jax’s mother couldn’t get to grips with it—couldn’t think about trusting her—Isla could.

It was a little bit difficult now, however. To see Tara and Wendy in the same room—trying to coexist peacefully in Jax’s life—was hard.

The lull was boisterous. The sheepish silence was deafening, and the thwacking of Isla’s heart against her chest was vociferous enough to be heard by Gemma across the way.

It was a position she didn’t want to be thrust into, but she wasn’t willing to get up and leave had anything been said.

She sat beside the older woman, watching her watch them like a fucking hawk, until her phone vibrated in her back pocket.

Isla shifted, pulling the cell from the denim and flipping it open.

Janet: Can u make it in for 9 tomorrow morning?

Her eyebrows pinched together, looking up a little confused. Isla swore that she sent Janet a text message that told her she wouldn’t be able to work in the morning.

She couldn’t miss Donna’s funeral. She didn’t want to, either.

“Who is it?” Gemma spoke inquisitively, peeling her eyes away from the conversion between Wendy and Tara.

“My boss.”

“Janet?” She nodded. “What’d that bitch want?”

“For me to work tomorrow morning—”

Gemma turned to her, grimacing. “But it’s the funeral. You told her that, right?”

Once again, Isla bobbed her head while fiddling with the buttons on her cellphone.

“She’s not gonna let me take another day off.” Her throat hitched at the realization. “I’m just gonna have to go with you, ignore her calls, and tell her that I didn’t see the text she sent to me tonight.”

Lying to and ignoring the woman that paid her at the end of every month, the woman that had helped her financially for the last five years, wasn’t what Isla wanted to do today.

But it was the only way she could pay her respects to Donna, she thought.

“You’re not gonna go in, right?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m just gonna call her after the funeral and apologize—“

“Don’t apologize.” Gemma chastised, knitting her eyebrows together. “If she can’t understand that you’ve got a funeral in the morning that you can’t miss, then she can go to hell—“

“Alright, Gem.” Her chuckle was hearty as she put her hand against her purse, pulling it to sit against her shoulder.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m gonna head home.” She rose to her feet smiling over at Tara and Wendy. “It’s getting late and we’ve gotta be out early tomorrow.”

“Alright, baby.” The older woman stood with her, pushing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Call me when you get there?”

Isla smiled, pecking her cheek. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She directed toward Tara—not particularly giving a damn if Wendy would be there or not.

The doctor simply smiled and nodded, giving her the answer that she not only wanted, but needed. She needed her there by her side in the morning. Isla feared she wouldn’t be able to get through it without her, actually.

But she was dreading the day. To see those men hold themselves together—to see Opie strive not to crumble—was something that she didn’t want to have to witness tomorrow.

So many funerals had she attended, so many friends and family members had been seized from her reach throughout the course of her life, but she hadn’t seen anything like this before.

She hadn’t ever seen a friend lose his one true love, the woman that brought him unintelligible happiness and two beautiful children to cherish with his entire being.

She hadn’t seen Opie suffer so much before. The man that was strong and willing and would hastily blow shit up with little to no regard for consequences, was disintegrating before her very eyes.

And Isla didn’t fucking know how to help him cope with that. She didn’t even know if she could help him to cope with that.

Her anxiety was still present on the drive home, too.

Even after getting into bed and recounting the events of the afternoon, Isla was still nervous as to what’d happen next. Because Clay’s reaction to Bobby getting arrested didn’t inspire much confidence, either.

And the way that Piney had disappeared earlier to seek vengeance, to hold a fucking pistol to the head of Laroy Wayne—the man that allegedly played a role in the murder of Donna Winston—was also prickling away at her thoughts.

Something was going to go wrong, wasn’t it?

No matter how well thought out their plans might’ve been, or how seamlessly they carried out the crime, something always went wrong. Somebody was always caught out, or hurt, or just felt bad about what they were doing.

Isla could’ve written that shit, now. After so many failed hits, failed attempts, and unfortunate events, Isla was almost a pro at predicting what the future would entail.

Almost as if she’d manifested it by merely thinking, her attention was piqued by the hastening roar of a motorcycle engine—clearly pulling up to her place.

It was wonderful to know that Gemma hadn’t decided to follow her home tonight, but the rough din could’ve led to any of the others.

She hoped it wasn’t Jax, and she really hoped it wasn’t her father or Happy.

As she slid out of bed, Isla reached for the pink robe with the daisies on it that rested against the back of her bedroom door, and shrugged it on over her silky pajamas.

It was great that she lived in such a small house, really, because she was able to get from point A (her bedroom) to point B (the front door), in a matter of seconds, or before the person outside got angry that she was taking too long.

He hadn’t knocked the door yet, but she knew that he was about to.

Isla rummaged around the little bowl beside the entrance for her front door key, suddenly realizing that she had way too many of them—her house key, a key to her mailbox, keys to T M, keys to her dad’s place, her car keys, she had somebody’s bike keys, too.

The little chain that hosted a few pieces of metal, a cherry keychain, a tiny motorcycle, and an old beaded bracelet that Chibs had given to her for safe travels, was hastily being shoved into the lock and twisted counterclockwise.

“How’d you know I was out here?” Tig asked from about a foot away, barely visible to her as the streetlights were out, for some reason.

“Literally couldn’t hear myself think over the sound of your bike.” She chuckled, leaning against her door frame. She squinted, trying to focus on him—but it was no use. “What’re you going here, Tigger?”

He stepped further toward her—reluctantly. The dim glow of her living room light suddenly illuminated the space a hell of a lot more, hitting Tig square in the face as Isla shifted a little to her left.

Her heart clenched.

“I need you to play nurse again.” Bashfully, he smiled.

There were tears of pain trickling from those crystalline hues, his left hand firmly planted against his ribcage, and she suddenly heeded the dried blood underneath his nose, his lips, and a bruise forming against his cheek.

“Tig…” Her words broke away from her tongue, the lump in her throat constricting her airways because seeing him so beaten and exhausted hurt her.

“You should see the other guy.” He tried to joke, but the humor was lost on her.

Lost on him, too. He didn’t think it was funny, but he hated the way she was looking at him.

“Sorry to bring this here.” Tig sniffed harshly, squinting as the pain suddenly started to hit him. “I’ll—uh—I’ll go—“

“No. No, you’re not going anywhere.” She stated firmly, stepping out of the house and down the path. “You’re gonna come in, I’m gonna fix you up, and you’re gonna tell me what happened.”

“Isla…”

“Please, Alex.”

Tig couldn’t help that little smile pulling at the corners of his lips, always liking that she’d say his name so softly. Anybody else referring to him that way would’ve gotten a swift kick in the fucking gut—but she was different.

Isla was a comfort. Always had been.

He stepped inside, following closely behind her as she made a beeline for her bathroom. But she instructed him to sit at the dinner table, stifling a laugh at the way she tried her hand at being the authoritative figure.

She’d even told him to help himself to the Jack Daniels she kept for when Chibs called ‘round.

“You’re so lucky dad taught me how to treat wounds.” She called from the end of the hallway, shuffling across the carpet in a pair of sparkly pink slippers.

“I know.” He agreed, thankful. “He did a good job, too.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.” Isla smiled, putting her first aid necessities atop the table. “But don’t tell him that I’m about to ask you to take your shirt off, or else he’ll beat the shit outta you.”

“What?”

“Take your shirt off.” She smiled again, gesturing to the part of his body that his hand had subconsciously taken purchase against. “I’m not tryna make you do a strip tease for me, Tig, I just need to see if you’ve got any cuts there or if it’s just a bruise.”

“I think it’s just a bruise,” he mused, shrugging off his black zip-up, and starting to unbutton the cotton shirt adorning his torso.

Isla bit her bottom lip as she fiddled with the tube of antiseptic cream, wondering how she would broach the topic. She wanted to know what had happened—because whatever it was clearly did not go to plan—but she didn’t want him to think that she was trying to force it out of him.

“See.” Tig ran his hand over the red marks, lines, and the small flecks of yellow surrounding his rib cage and lower abdomen. “All good.”

“Not all good.” She halted him as he tried to reason with her, furrowing her eyebrows. “Where did they come from?”

Nobody could lie to her. Ever.

Nobody had to lie to her, really, because Isla Telford tried not to ask any questions—but she was worried tonight.

Worried about Tig and the various messes that he’d found himself entwined in over the last day and a half. Worried that he was in trouble, that he was tormenting himself over something out of his reach—his control.

She was just worried about him, really.

His sigh was throaty, hurt palpable. “You want the whole truth, or the dumbed-down version?”

“The whole truth.” She retorted instantaneously, letting him button his shirt before she started to clean the blood from his face. “And don’t try to lie to me, because I know you too well for that.”

Like last night, he felt pathetic. He felt that twinge of vulnerability poke through again, and he hated it.

He hated the thought of Isla seeing him this way—in pain, downtrodden and exhausted—and he hated the thought of her knowing that whatever it was he did today had gotten to him so much.

“The witness that was gonna testify against Ope. Me, Hap, and your old man went to go ‘n handle him,” Tig sucked in a deep breath when the alcohol pad nicked at a cut he was unaware of.

“I know about that part.” Easily, she followed on. “So what happened? Was he too fast?”

His head shook, an airy chuckle escaping his lips. “He was a she. A teenage girl—“

“Jesus, Tig.” Almost disgusted, she took a step back. “You didn’t…”

“No.” He reassured her, letting her soften a little bit before coming out with; “but me and Hap were gonna.”

“You’re kidding?”

If there was one thing that Isla knew SAMCRO did not do, it was kill women. Ever.

There had been accidents that saw innocent girls caught in the crossfire—last night, for one—which was inevitable. But the club never went out of their way to end their lives.

“Wish I was, Isla.” Tig’s eyes watered, but she didn’t do anything. She didn’t say anything, either. “I dunno what's happening to me.”

I don’t either, Tiggy.

“I was gonna put that bullet in her and if it wasn’t for Jax—“

“Jax was there?”

“He stormed in after someone must’ve told him we were gonna off the “man” that saw Ope and Bobby kill Hefner at that complex.”

“Oh.” She nodded along, cleaning out the wound she had literally only just fixed yesterday.

But the cogs inside of her brain were slowly turning.

“Oh…” Isla quickly looked down at him, piecing the puzzle together. “Tell me he didn’t do this to you.”

He winced as the whiskey left a searing trail down the back of his throat, barely making eye contact with her before she snapped.

“Tig! Talk to me—“

“Alright, fine! Yeah, he did this!” He raised his voice at her, watching anger flit across her delicate features. “He held his glock to my goddamn head and I was ready for him to pull the trigger, but he didn’t.”

She blinked at him, uneasy at the thought of what Jax had started to morph into. Who he had started to morph into.

“We ended up fighting and I got a few hits in, but the asshole punched me in the fucking face and threw me onto a table—that’s probably where the bruises came from.”

“And this was because of the girl, right?”

“Right.”

“But Happy and my dad were there, too…Why did Jax beat the shit outta you?”

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t,” she grabbed the tumbler from his right hand so he couldn’t silence himself with anymore alcohol, and put it atop the table.

“Because he stormed in when I had the gun to that kid’s head, and I was gonna pull the fucking trigger.” He recounted, sobbing as he spoke.

She was seething. Oh, Isla was fucking furious—but she didn’t want to spook him after this, because he was unpredictable and really unstable. She didn’t want him to do anything stupid.

“It’s alright.” The damp pad was discarded, tossed to the middle of the table when she grabbed gently at his chin and forced him to look upward. “You didn’t kill her, I’m assuming Jax handled it some other way, and you’re outta the blue, okay? It’s fine.”

Maybe Isla was so quick to forgive him for something that he didn’t do because she was also toiling with the idea of coming to terms with an act just as—if not more—treacherous than Tig’s.

She seeked that reassurance, that “it’s okay” talk from somebody after what she had done with her best friend, but she knew that the only person that’d give it to her was Jax. Because he was also trying to accept it.

The guilt was hefty and Tig knew all too fucking well what that’d entail, but he had no idea that Isla was suffering that same thing, too.

“You didn’t know the witness was a kid. None of you were to know that if Rosen didn’t specify.”

“But I was still gonna do it.” He added. “After I found out she was a kid, I was still gonna kill her.”

“But you didn’t.”

He was making it difficult for her to get through to him.

“It was horrible and I know that what you were going to do was bad, but you weren’t the only one there, about to do what you had to for your brother.” Isla’s thumb ran softly underneath his lower lip, hoping the tears welling in her eyes weren’t about to fall to the apples of her cheeks.

Because that’s all that Tig was doing. He was doing this for his brother. For the man that had already sacrificed so fucking much for his club, he deserved every last sliver of prosperity and protection that SAMCRO could offer.

And, perhaps, Tig wanting so desperately to pull that trigger was a way for him to solidify the fact that Opie wasn’t going to be sent away—wasn’t going to suffer more after his wife had been “mysteriously” killed. But Isla simply saw that as him wanting to do an inherently evil thing that’d see the greater good ensue.

Looking past the fact it was a teenage girl, however, was something she had to work on for the sake of her own fucking sanity.

“Thank you.” Tig broke the silence, getting to his feet. He towered over her a little bit as he did so. “See you tomorrow—“

Isla didn’t have enough time to think about what she was doing, but that phrase triggered something inside of her. She grabbed at his hand as he went to slip away, looking up at him with that almost heart-wrenching innocence of hers.

“I did something bad, too.” She blurted, letting her tears fall freely. “I can't say what I did, but it was bad and I regret it every fucking day because I can’t sleep properly, and it’s the only thing on my mind, and I just—“

He silenced her when he wrapped both arms around her trembling frame, holding her impossibly close to his chest as she weepeed into the navy cotton, and he gradually moved a hand upward to twist into her hair.

“It’s alright, baby, let it out.”

Mentally, he commended himself for being the one person that Isla trusted enough to confide in—to crumble before. But it was also sickening because the woman was so fucking stubborn and rarely ever shed a tear in front of a Son.

Chibs was the only one that saw her like this, really.

He felt horrible. Not because she was so upset but because she had so obviously been harboring that emotion, that pain and anguish and she didn’t know how to express it without crying.

“I’m scared, Tig.” Isla mumbled sadly into his chest, trying to sniff back the horrid emotion but failing miserably.

“Of what?”

“Myself. And these stupid things that I can’t stop thinking.”

“Thoughts are normal.” He reassured her, running a hand up and down her back. “Intrusive thoughts are normal. Don’t you worry—“

“You can’t tell me not to worry, because that’s gonna make me worry.” Her words were plied in a weak laugh. “And when I worry, I cry—obviously.”

“Don’t cry.” He chuckled, too, using the pad of his thumb to brush across her cheek. “You’re too pretty to cry this much.”

“And you’re too much of a mean old man to be this comforting.” Tig feigned offense, gasping dramatically at her words. “So, what was it? What pulled at your heartstrings so much that made you think you had to try and make me feel better?”

“It’s my good deed for the day.” Her lips curled upward into a grin when his expression softened.

“Do you think you can extend that good deed?”

He grunted, nodding. “Suppose so. What’d ‘ya want me to do?”

“I was just gonna ask if you’d stay with me again tonight.” All irreverence in her tone had melted away, promptly replaced by a borderline debilitating sincerity. “You don’t have to because we’ve gotta be out early for the funeral tomorrow, and that’d mean you’d have to leave earlier to get yourself fixed up, but—“

“I can leave a little earlier.” He cut her short, still swiping at the tears that wouldn’t quit flowing from her eyes. “If you get your ass up and ready before eight, you can leave with me too.”

“Yeah?” Hopefully, she asked. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Tig confirmed, slinging his arm over her shoulder when she pulled away and pointed toward the end of the hall. “And I guessed that you didn’t wanna head to the garage alone—and Gemma would probably beat the shit outta you if you were late—so if you come with me, you’ll be on time.”

Isla just hummed, thankful for the genuine intentions behind Tig’s actions. He was sweet when he wanted to be.

“Where am I sleepin’?” He asked with a little grunt, a twinge of pain prickling against his ribcage. “I’ll take the couch—“

“Oh, shut up. You’re not sleeping on my couch after getting your shit rocked.”

Tig glared at her, but she simply raised an eyebrow. She gestured to her bedroom.

“Y’know, if we keep spending the night together then people are gonna get a little suspicious.”

“Eh. Let ‘em.” Isla stated offhandedly shimmying her shoulders out of her robe, and throwing it onto her vanity stool as she got to her room. “I don’t care what Gemma thinks.”

“Not so much Gemma.” They shared a knowing look, but he followed her into the room and sat at the edge of her bed regardless.

Isla sighed, sitting beside him.

“If you’re worried about my dad because of how he was this morning, then you don’t need to be. I think he’s just a little bit spun out after last night, and feels bad for Ope—‘cuz, y’know, he’s been through this too.”

Tig’s heartbeat hastened to an almost debilitating tempo, wondering how Isla knew the similarities between Diane and Donna. But she blew those thoughts right out his brain when she built on her response.

“He lost his wife and was left with a kid,” she pointed to herself, “and didn’t know how to navigate this life without the woman he’d depended on for so long. It’s just heavy at the moment.”

“Yeah,” he shook his head a little, looking at his hands bunched together in his lap, “you’re probably right about that.”

“It’s all that it is. He’s just feelin’ it a little more than what we are.”

I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Isla.

“Anyway.” She perked up a bit more. “If you wanna freshen up, I’ve got some shampoo and lotions that don’t smell like roses in the bathroom—and I think there might be some razors in one of those cupboards, too.”

“You gonna join me?”

The tips of her ears began to blaze, stippling heat across her cheeks and down to her neck until she could almost feel how red she was getting.

Despite knowing that was a joke—the habitual banter shared between them—it still forced a feeling to swell in her stomach.

A feeling of something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Maybe tomorrow.” Isla chuckled at the playful pout tugging at his lips, urging him to step into the en suite before she physically fucking exploded.

He grabbed a towel from the pile, walked in, and shut the door behind him, and she threw herself against the top of the comforter with a groan.

At what point had Tig’s harmless flirting turned into something more for Isla, she wasn’t entirely sure. What she did know, however, was that she was definitely enjoying it a little bit too much now.

And that would complicate things, she was certain of it.

But she strived not to let it get to her, and slid underneath the unkempt covers for the second time tonight.

When Tig emerged from the bathroom, he was thankful to see that she’d covered herself up because the tiny crimson cami and shorts combo was killing him.

He wasn’t able to pinpoint just what it was that’d made him feel so differently about that this evening, but he knew that he wasn’t able to get the image out of his fucking head.

“Was that nice?” She asked from the left side of her bed, barely opening her eyes as he stepped onto the carpet.

“It was.” Tig answered softly, picking his jeans up from the ground.

“You can’t seriously be wearing those to sleep in?”

“I’ve slept in more uncomfortable outfits.”

Isla huffed out a breath, gripping the covers and pulling them back. “Wait here.” Begrudgingly, she left the bed again and traipsed toward the cabinet at the end of her hallway.

He watched her saunter away, heeding the crow tattoo on her lower back that he’d never noticed before. He wondered who she’d gotten that for, and he also wondered if anybody even knew about that—because he certainly did not.

“These are clean, you can wear them.” She threw a pair of pajama pants at him from the doorway, hoping he wouldn’t make a face.

Cautiously, he held them out in front of him. “Whose are these?”

“Nobodies. I just learned—from Gemma—to always keep spare shit at my house. Like the shower stuff and razors, and I’ve got things for whoever might need them.”

He smiled, forgetting that she was so thoughtful.

Tig unzipped his pants and slipped into the checkered cotton as Isla rummaged around the bottom drawer of her closet, pulling out a couple of pillows.

“You do this a lot?” He quizzed, getting into bed. “Take care of us guys, I mean.”

“Not really. Only when one of you needs it.”

He nodded, taking one of the two pillows from her.

“Aside from stitching you up two days in a row, the last time I took care of somebody was when Jax and Wendy split and he let her live at his place.”

“He never said.”

“‘Cuz Gemma would go nuts if she found out that he came to me and not his mommy.” She chuckled, settling beside him before flicking the lamp off. “And he only stayed with me for a couple weeks because he didn’t wanna sleep at the clubhouse.”

“So you were harboring Jax from her, huh?” He nudged her, prompting Isla to shift closer to him.

“I guess so.” She joked back through a yawn. “I felt bad for him because she’s such a hardass sometimes. He just wanted somewhere to stay, and somebody to keep him company that wouldn’t ask an abundance of overbearing questions.”

“And you were that somebody.”

“Yup. I was.” Tig turned onto his side to face her. “And I liked it because I hate being alone. It was nice to have somebody around.”

“You? Not wanting to be alone?” Sarcastically, he let out.

Had he not already been hurt, she would’ve slapped the smugness off of his face for that comment.

“What’s that all about, huh?”

“The being alone thing?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know, really.” She mused quietly, pursing her lips. “I think I just got used to being around my dad, and whenever I wasn’t with him I was with Gemma—and I didn’t move into my own place until I was twenty-three, so…”

“So you always had somebody.”

“Yup. I guess I have some attachment issues.” Isla chuckled, silently thanking him for not ridiculing her the way she thought that he might’ve.

But Tig was always so thoughtful when it came to her, and he probably wouldn’t have been able to find it in himself to make fun of that sentiment.

He had his own issues, too. He wouldn’t dream of mocking that she didn’t like to be alone.

“Is it Jax’s?” He asked out of nowhere in reference to the crow. “The tattoo you got.”

Isla froze. She didn’t know that he’d seen it tonight.

Only Tara knew about that. Only Tara knew about a lot of things, it seemed.

“No.” She rasped, hating the way her words became lodged at the back of her throat.

Tig raised a brow. “Whose is it? Is it Juice’s—“

She snorted at his words, and he smiled because he had finally gaged a more positive reaction. Her smile—though barely visible—was most certainly as beautiful as ever.

“It isn’t anybody’s. It’s just a SAMCRO crow.” The smile was weak, now. Faded and pained, but it was there.

She wasn’t lying, but it felt like there was more to the story than what she was letting on, and he was happy with the answer that he’d gotten. So he didn't push it.

“Would you ever get a crow for someone?” A question that he never thought he’d be asking Chibs’s daughter, but a question that he had to acquire an answer to.

After mulling it over for a few seconds, Isla nodded. She laid her hand atop Tig’s that was resting against his pillow, and flicked her eyes upward to meet his gaze as he yawned.

“Maybe one day. But, right now, I’m happy knowing that my little tattoo represents my dedication to the club as a whole—not just refined to one person.”

[op-sheepy]

ok so I'm particularly interested in

Bellamy Law

Law and Bible stuff

Law is a substitute kindergarten teacher

shichibukai applications

reverse hanahaki disease (?? do u spit out flowers when your nemesis walks by?)

if you feel like elaborating on any of these!

This is gonna get long and I actually contemplated posting them separately but would that have been more work? Yeah, that felt like more work so for anyone interested, check under the cut. :D

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Bellamy Law

Hm… This would be an attempt to explore the parallels and contrasts between Bellamy and Law. I've always found it fascinating that the former was a foil to the latter.

They both come from well-off  towns in the North Blue.

Bellamy left because of boredom. Law had no choice because Flevance.

Both ended up seeking Doflamingo  because of  his notoriety as a pirate. Both admired him initially

Doffy favored one over the other though. Bellamy always sought his approval but was never really part of the inner circle Doflamingo cared about.

Law got the dubious privilege of being part of the family despite being absent for so long. Even offered one of the highest seats by Doffy's side for seemingly nothing.

Law had no trouble turning his back on Doffy once he realized the man's nature. Bellamy tried to stick to his principles until the end despite admitting that he new he was wrong.

Bellamy can (and did) quit piracy after his ordeal with Doflamingo. Having the option to live peacefully, perhaps a return to his previous life (the one he considered boring). Law can't do that quite as easily what with his Devil fruit and his reputation.

I thought it would be interesting trying to explore what Bellamy was thinking. Did he hear the Donquixote Pirates talk about their missing 'family'? Did he get to see Doffy be amused at Law's rise as a Supernova while he kept being reminded of his own status? Did Law save Bellamy partially because he also saw what he could have been had Corazon not saved him?

On principle, Bellamy should have hated Trafalgar Law. Does. Bastard even saved him without him wanting it. But there was something about the shadows haunting those eyes and Bellamy started to wonder.

He had heard the family talk about Law before. The child personally taught by Doflamingo, chosen to be his right hand. Never was he compared to the man because Law was just obviously better. Smarter. Stronger. Bellamy was ever just an uncouth thug.

He was allowed to 'borrow' Doflamingo's symbol while Law had an empty seat waiting for his return–a seat Bellamy had wanted enough to risk everything for.

Maybe he had resented, Trafalgar Law for carelessly rejecting the things he had that Bellamy had always desired. In the end too, Trafalgar Law did prove to be better. He'd done as a child what Bellamy had trouble doing even as he was now.

But having been given the chance to observe the other man as they all recovered, he wondered, perhaps for the first time, whether despite Law being better than Bellamy, Bellamy had had it better–barring the poor life choices.

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Law and Bible stuff

This is just me wanting to know how many biblical parallels and themes I can draw from Law, the Donquixote brothers, the characters associated with them, and his backstory. Honestly not sure whether this would become a fic and in what style or I'm gonna give up and just make it a post.

Not gonna elaborate on them much but here are the ideas in more bullet points (yay):

Law gets familiar with all four horsemen of the apocalypse: conquest, war, famine, and death. He even survives them.

Law is like the son in the parable of the prodigal son to the Donquixote pirates. Except the themes are inverted.

Doflamingo and Rocinante -> Cain and Abel

Ope Ope no Mi -> Granting eternal life by sacrificing one's own life

Gods descending or living among humans. Also, Homing and his family being prosecuted for other people's sins.

That scene where they were hanged by their arms outstretched looks like a crucifixion. Also, Rocinante was on the right while Doflamingo was on the left. Similar to how the penitent thief was on the right and the unrepentant one to the left.

Flevance being considered a paradise with walls/fences/gates and somewhere Law cannot return to.

In the panel where the Donquixote pirates are seated at the table, there were thirteen of them with Doffy at the center. Same as The Last Supper

There are a lot more of these (David and Goliath, Solomon, Jonah, Job, etc.) but I kinda lost the notes and some are more visual so I can't really explain it too well. This would is a drabble series to emphasize or highlight the parallels so no proper snippet for this one.

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Law is a substitute kindergarten teacher

Originally an idea to get around most of the Heart Pirates being nameless but evolved to include other characters as kids. Chopper is a kindergarten teacher and he convinces Law to take over his class for a week because somehow Law has the qualifications to and free time. Naturally, he wasn't able to say no.

Unfortunately, despite not being terrible at handling children, Chopper's class is filled with menaces. Also, despite not being terrible, Law can still be awkward so...

"Mr. Trofao–fargar—"

"Trafalgar."

The kid—which one was this one again? Shit, he should really get them name plates or something—scrunched up his face and tried harder, "Tar-pal—"

"Law. Just call me Law."

"Mr. Low"—eh, close enough—"can I go to the bathroom?" Wide imploring eyes stared up at him.

"Sure, go ahead." Law gestured towards the exit of the classroom with his head.

The kid just stared expectantly at him and he tried to suppress the need to narrow his eyes.

"Is there… anything else?"

"Mr. Chopper always comes with me to hold my hand."

Really?

"Mr. Chopper isn't here. You should practice doing it on your own now." He said after a deep inhale.

"But the monsters might get me…"

"No, they won't."

"You don't know that."

"I do." Before the kid could open his mouth again to argue, he added, "Besides, children taste terrible so you're safe."

The kid looked stricken and took a step back from him. Uh oh. Glistening eyes, wobbling lower lip… "Alright! I'll go with you." The kid did not look reassured. In fact he looked like going alone with Law was the last thing he wanted to do. Guess, he kinda implied that he ate children didn't he? Oops.

Well, the kid needs to go and he's not going to be cleaning up after him if he wets himself.

Law glanced at the rest of the children. It was Arts and Craft time and they seemed preoccupied enough. Still, Law doubted Chopper ever left these kids alone–already he could see some of them glancing up at him, waiting for him to leave no doubt to cause trouble. That Monkey kid in particular looked extremely suspicious.

He stood up from his crouch and clapped twice to get everyone's attention.

"Alright. Fall in line. Single file."

There was some grumbling and questioning directed at him. "What's going on?"

Law shrugged. "You're all going to the bathroom."

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Shichibukai Application Forms

Crackfic where the World Government and relevant parties review various Shichbukai Applications. Most submitted by the pirates applying themselves, some produced by their own staff. They discuss and debate. As well as judge pirate resumes.

She scanned the document. Terrible format, really. If you fail to impress within the first page, you've failed entirely. There just wasn't anyone promising enough in this batch of applications or any of the other ones before. The last one had been that clown. "Apprentice to the Pirate King," was a pretty hefty credential.

"Oh, how about this one? Three years experience pillaging, and they even listed all the towns they looted." One of the newly transferred administrative staff said.

"None of these are worth considering at all. You know, when Mihawk was asked to submit his application, he hadn't bothered with all of this. He just sent us a card with his name on it and the title "World's Strongest Swordsman," underneath."

The staff perked up. "Oh, there was an application like that." There was scramble and some shuffling before a plain white card was produced. "Here."

"'From Trafalgar Law'. What does this even mean?"

"Well, it did come with a big box..."

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Reverse Hanahaki Disease

(?? do u spit out flowers when your nemesis walks by?)

Haha. At first it was going to be that way (because it is hilarious) but the inflicted would probably choke to death too soon. Or if both enemies had it, they'd end up just coughing flowers at each other until they stopped being enemies.

The version I ended up going with was that this variant of Hanahaki, instead of afflicting those with unrequited love, affected those in denial instead. The reverse part comes from the original idea that this would usually happen if you somehow fell in love with your nemesis (someone you originally hated). So it's not the thought that the other person can't love you, it's that you can't accept that you love that other person. You get cured by confessing to the person sincerely.

This is actually another KidLaw (surprise!). And the flower coughed up directly represents the person they're in love with (I went with Oda's flower representation for them because I found it funny for plot)

So the idea is that, you get sick but you don't automatically know (maybe) who it is because that's part of being in denial. Kid and Law have many enemies after all. In this story they both get it though not exactly at the same time and not known to the other.

He survived Amber Lead Syndrome only to be killed off by a stupid flower disease that apparently knows more about his own feelings than he does.

He glared at the petals. Tulips. Red.

An image of a cocky grin and a shock of red hair flashed through his mind and—nope. That's not right.

He coughed harder, tears stinging his eyes with the effort. More flowers. Now he has enough for a bouquet.

Alright, he was a doctor. He could do this. Differential time.

First, which variant does he have. He doesn't particularly feel unloved or hopeless. There wasn't anyone he wanted in particular to love him. Ok, nothing. It was maybe safe to say he had that other variant.

Which was stupid because Law had many enemies and he hated all of them.

And cue the racking coughs. More red. He was very familiar with that particular shade.

New theory. This was a new variant that somehow makes you sick when you think of the person you hated the most.

Yes, that had to be it. He thought as he all but collapsed on the floor from the sudden paroxysm.

I knew this was gonna get long. :) Oh well...

Thank you for playing. :D

[tttinytrash]

((Ok so in my head Blue is a reluctant pred. He likes it, but it takes a lot to make him not just feel overwhelmingly guilty about enjoying this even if it’s safe. So have some Swap Sans vore! I wanted to play more with the pred’s pov since my last couple were more prey focused. Also sorry for making it a not romantic thing but my ace butt prefers it that way. Friends should be able to cuddle friends, dammit! But I guess if you wanna you can squint and just assume Blue has a budding crush and/or is in denial of a crush. Regardless, enjoy!))

Sans was so pleased with his and his brother’s house on the Surface. It was about the size of their home back in Snowdin and even better, it came with a new friend! The little borrower in their walls, a female named Lark, had lived there before the two moved in and had been quickly sussed out between the skelebrothers. (Benefits of magic.) After some tension in the beginning, she was now almost part of family! She was certainly the best roommate Sans could have asked for. 

She loved hiding in Sans’ bandanna to go with him on his morning run, and was glad to help with cleaning the nooks and crannies Sans was unable to reach. But she also loved taking naps and staying up late with Papyrus, and finally gave the taller brother a run for his money in his video games (after Undyne made them a properly sized controller). Their interests were a harmonious blend between the brothers which meant she’d be equally likely to be found perched on the shoulder of either brother whenever she wasn’t taking time for herself in her holes in the walls. 

As for right now, she was laid on Papyrus’ sternum. Sans was slouched in the corner of the couch, and Papyrus pillowed his skull on a cushion laid in Sans’ lap. They were all watching a movie, and apparently all three had underestimated how gory the horror film would be. Papyrus was the least affected, but Sans was a wreck and the borrower was only mildly better. When Lark cracked and ducked to hide in Papyrus’ hoodie pocket Sans used it as an excuse to quit before the end. 

“THOSE HIGH RATINGS WERE SO MISLEADING, THAT WAS AWFUL!” Sans declared in disgust, relieved beyond words that the horrible movie was gone. (No. He was not suppressing the sounds of his bones rattling, thank you.)

“yeah, not my cup of tea either.” Papyrus then directed his attention to his pocket, patting it lightly and asking “you wanna stay in there, tiny tot?”

Sans didn’t hear it, but could tell the answer was an affirmative as Papyrus mounted the stairs. 

Sans finished putting the room back in order and trotted up after his brother, going into his own room to get ready for bed. It was pretty late after all, and he had to wake up bright and early to get a head start on his training!

Once he could no longer distract himself with bedtime prep and cleaning, however, Sans quickly found he couldn’t get the film out of his mind. It felt like the worst scenes were imprinted in the back of his eyelids. Ugh, he didn’t want to be alone.

To Paps’ room he went, relieved to see the light of his computer shining dimly from under the door. He wasn’t asleep then, yet. He reluctantly opened the door and froze at the sight before him. 

Papyrus was sat at his PC, still in his hoodie but he’d at least switched to PJ pants. This was normal, Papyrus did have a tendency to do most of his sleeping in the form of daytime naps rather than at night. No, what shocked Sans was seeing the borrower sized pair of legs hanging out of his brother’s mouth. He couldn’t help the horrified gasp when those legs disappeared with the quiet sound of a gulp.

The gasp obviously alerted Papyrus to Sans’ presence, and he greeted “hey bro. how long you been there?” He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, and Sans didn’t miss that he appeared to be swiping his thumb over his belly under the cover of the fabric.

“LONG ENOUGH! WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!” Sans fully entered, obviously confused and flustered.

Papyrus shrugged. “they asked.”

“WHAT?!”

“they asked me to take em in, bro. they wanted to hide. what’s with you? you know this is safe, i used to take you in too.”

“YES, YOU’RE RIGHT. BUT I WAS A BABYBONES!”

Papyrus just looked at Sans, shrugging again. He turned back to his computer.

Sans left, movie forgotten completely. He was eventually able to fall asleep, but spent far longer than he’d admit thinking about it and feeling guilty about blowing up like that. He KNEW it was safe, like Paps had said. So why did it bug him so much? Sleep came before an answer, unfortunately.

------

Breakfast the next morning was something Sans wasn’t particularly looking forward to. He made an extra effort to make a lavish assortment of waffles, cut fruit, and even made pancakes with M&Ms tossed in the batter like he knew Papyrus liked.

Papyrus eventually came downstairs, Lark carried in his cupped hand. The smell of cooking food usually woke him up, and if the borrower had followed his sleep schedule she was ordinarily dragged along. They both perked up at seeing the spread before them, before the lanky brother seemed to catch on to his sibling’s bribery.

“apology breakfast, bro?”

Sans sighed and faced his brother, gloved hand wringing the hem of his apron, “YES. I OVERREACTED LAST NIGHT AND I AM VERY SORRY. WHAT FRIENDS OR DATEMATES DO BEHIND CLOSED DOORS IS THEIR BUSINESS.”

Both Papyrus and Lark laughed at that. Before Sans had the chance to be insulted Papyrus explained.

“bro, nah. w-we’re just buds.”

“Nothing there, Sans. Promise. Don’t tell me you’re getting jealous, now.” she added.

“I AM NOT!” Sans squeaked, blush tinging his cheekbones.

She was still laughing, giggling a little extra in fact as she teased “You wanna give it a go, there Sans?” Snicker, “Need tummy cuddles too?”

Sans felt his eyelights go out and the blue glow of a blush burning his whole skull. Amid the uproar of laughter, he swiped the plate he’d set out for himself (waffles with strawberries on top) and skittered retreated up to his room.

He heard their laughter, and will admit he felt relief when he heard his brother called up “sorry, bro. but now we’re even, yeah?”

However, that relief that his breakfast gesture had worked was completely overshadowed by shame. Oh gosh please no, that feeling can’t be right can it? She hadn’t meant it, but she was right.

Sans did want to try it.

Delta help him.

------

The thought had been creeping into his mind no matter how much he tried to sweep it under the rug throughout his whole morning jog. He even ran an extra mile, but couldn’t outrun the problem. She hadn’t come with him this morning, so he found her instead on the coffee table when he came back. Papyrus was up taking a nap apparently, snd she was playing a game on her own. 

“Hey Sans, wanna play? There’s a co-op mode!~” She called, having paused the game.

Ugh, he couldn’t stand to look at her now. His tongue had even manifested unbidden. “N-NO. SORRY. I’M SPARRING ALPHYS TODAY, AND I WOULDN’T WANT TO BE LATE!” 

She bought the lie, and he got out of the house with no issue.

...But he had no plans with Alphys, no errands to run, but also couldn’t go home.

Well crap.

He’d ended up at the Librarby. He ended up there a lot the past couple of days. He knew Papyrus and Lark were getting concerned, but didn’t know what else he could do. 

For now, he was home. When his brother was around he could forget the intrusive thoughts. Just being alone with her was the trouble. So he was happy to watch another movie, and this one was absolutely making up for the awful horror movie that had afflicted their last movie night.

Eventually, the singing humans finished the closing number, and the credits began to roll. So Sans cleaned up the room, and Papyrus trundled up the steps with the borrower cupped in his hands. Once he was done cleaning, Sans bounded up the steps himself and dipped into the bathroom to swap into his pajamas.

Lark was sitting on his pillow when he entered his room. 

Sans would deny the startled squeak that slipped out when he caught sight of her til he dusted, but she didn’t even look amused. That didn’t bode well.

“Sans, is there anything wrong?” she asked.

“WHAT? N-NO! WHAT MAKES YOU ASK THAT? I HAVE BEEN ACTING EXTREMELY NORMAL!” Sans lied. Poorly, he knew.

“Sans. We both know thats not true. Did I do something wrong? Because you’ve been avoiding me. Paps noticed, too.”

“YOU’VE DONE NOTHING, EVERYTHING IS FINE!”

“...is it about Papyrus taking me in?”

Sans couldn’t actually muster words, just feeling his magic heat his cheekbones uselessly.

She sighed. “If it really bothers you that bad, we’ll stop. It’s not worth losing a friend, ok?”

“N-no... that’s not it...” Sans had even lost his usual volume, which made her take notice.

“Then what, Sans? I’ve been wracking my brain for days.”

Sans finally sat on the end of the bed. “...It was taking in stuff... But I’m not upset about you two doing it. It’s what you said that morning.” Sans felt so vulnerable, but as she’d put it, this wasn’t worth losing a friend.

“What? About you wanting to too? Oh, I went too far teasing you didn’t I? I’m sorry, I’ll lay off-”

“You were right.”

She faltered. “What?”

“I can’t stop wondering what it’s like. I’ve never taken anyone in before, and you two so clearly enjoy it. But I would never want to make you, So I’ve been trying to avoid the issue. But I think I just ended up avoiding you. I’m sorry.”

She looked confused for a solid few seconds, then slumped and gave a comically loud sigh of relief, even punctuated with a breathy giggle. “That’s all?”

Sans was now even more uncomfortable. “Yes?”

“Dude, then take me in! I’m fine! If that’s all the issue is, that’s such an easy fix.” She even took the extra initiative to bound over the span of the bed, straight for the skeleton before her. She only stopped a few inches short when she realized he was recoiling.

“Oh. It’s an easy fix for me, not so much for you. Huh, bud?” She asked quietly.

Sans made an unhappy noise, and that was answer enough.

“Ok. If the problem is me not wanting to, that’s clearly not an issue. Is it nerves because you don’t know what to do? I can walk you through it. Really, Sans, I actively want to do this, because maybe it’ll help close the gap we made between us. If you really don’t want to, then that’s fine too but just know the reluctance isn’t on my end, ok? I love and trust you just as much as Papyrus. Promise.”

Sans forced himself to relax, and cycled a breath. Thinking about it, he had no reason to refuse. And honestly, he would be happy to put his self-quarantine to an end. So he nodded. “Ok, but only if you’re sure.”

“Yep!” They beamed up at him, reaching upwards in a clear request to be picked up.

He gently cupped his hands around them and lifted them off the mattress, up to his face. “Ok, what do I do?”

“Why don’t you open up? I’ll get in myself, just bring your hand close ok?”

Sans had to take a moment to breathe, but did open up his mouth. His tongue had manifested itself by this point, so that wasn’t an issue. But that also meant he felt and tasted their hands when they were set down. He was going cross eyed to watch her progress as much as the angle allowed, but she seemed to have no issue and slid in easily. He was surprised by the lack of friction, honestly.

She scooted a bit father forward, making him lose sight of her feet, and called “Alright, go ahead and close your mouth. Makes the next part easier.”

He did so slowly, and felt butterflies knowing what the “next part” was.

“Good, you’re doing fine. Now tilt your head back, just til I start to slide back. Once I hit the back you can swallow.”

Sans tipped his skull back ever so slowly, until he felt her weight shift backwards. Once she hit the opening of his throat he instinctively gulped, which caused him to jolt a bit in surprise. 

He felt the magical tubing thread along the front of his cervical vertebrae, felt the weight of her body tugging downwards, every little twitch of her tiny body. His fingers flew up to his neck, fingers ghosting over her form contained within himself, until he lost her progress under his clavicles.

It almost felt like his soul was gently bumped aside to allow her to pass through his chest, which left a calm fuzzy feeling. He felt a slight pressure at the top of his belly, then she spilled in fully. 

His soul fluttered like a caged bird, could she hear that? Feel it? He pulled the hem of his shirt up, making his magic transparent so he could check on her. 

“A-are you alright?” he asked, watching her reorient in the new space.

“Peachy! You did it, Sans.” She smiled up at him, utterly at ease.

Seeing that she hadn’t been harmed, his soul settled into a more typical rhythm. “I did, thank you for helping. Please let me know if you want out, alright?”

“Will do. Glad to see you’re calming down.”

“You could tell?”

“Can’t hide much from this perspective. I could hear how uneven your breathing was. Here, maybe this will help to wind down.”

What was she doing? Ooh, he loves the shocks he got when she moved. Her hands were on the floor now, she started to move her hands in circular patterns...? Oh.

Sans melted. That was such a nice feeling, who knew his belly was so sensitive? He dropped his shirt, letting his magic go opaque.

“That’s really nice, wowie. Is it ok if I move though?” He asked.

“Go for it. Lie down if you want.”

He did just that, getting under the covers. He felt her slide around, and once she seemed to resettle, she resumed her rubbing.

Sans purred, which she giggled at. He was feeling far too good to care, dignity be hanged. He laid a hand over where she rested, doing his best to run at where he thought her back was. He felt her lean into the indirect touch, which made him smile.

“Y’know, I can stay overnight if you want.” Lark piped up after a few minutes of silence (barring the happy skeleton sounds).

“I think I’d like that.” Sans replied, feeling pretty sleepy. “Are you sure you’ll be comfortable?”

“Oh yeah, no issue there. You guys are pretty cushy inside, despite the boney exterior.”

Sans chuckled at that. “Ah, good.”

She stopped rubbing (which he was a little sad about) and moved until he felt her weight go still by his spine. 

She fell asleep quickly, her weight going limp and heartbeat (which he could feel if he concentrated) slowed.

A very content skeleton followed his tiny friend into the land of nod not long after.

[nicole-lynne]

A Pair of Dummies

Hi there! This was a request from a lovely nonnie and I hope it finds its way back to them.  “I was wondering if I could request a fic where you have eyes for Steve and Bucky tells you to go flirt with him, but Steve’s being an oblivious little butt and doesn’t get what you’re doing. So later you just tell him that you like him.”

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader Warnings: Some minor cussing

It was three in the afternoon and the only sounds in the gym was the sound of Steve’s weights slamming together after each rep and Bucky shouting commands as he paced around you on the mat. However, your gaze was focused on Steve’s back muscles tensing each time he pulled the weights back and the tiny little grunt he would make.

“Hello?! Anyone in there?” Bucky’s punching mitt slapped against the side of your head, knocking you sideways. 

“Ow, what the hell, Barnes?” You snapped as you tried to shove the super-soldier but he didn’t move an inch. 

He chuckled smugly at your failed attempt, “maybe if you’d been paying attention to me instead of Steve’s ass, then I wouldn’t have hit you.” 

Your mouth gaped open and closed like a fish, trying to think of some comeback. “I-I wasn’t- you don’t- just shut up and put your hands back up, buddy boy.” You wiped off a bead of sweat with the back of your hands and got back into the stance. 

Bucky worked around you in a circle while you worked through the combo he’d showed you. You shot your leg out and kicked against the mitt roughly and he shook his hand. 

“Okay, that one actually had a little bite to it, kid. Ya know, you don’t have to be so defensive about crushing on a certain Avenger.” 

You swung your fist hard toward Bucky’s head but he ducked just in time. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Your breath was starting to get heavier as he moved quicker. 

“Hey, I totally get it. He is literally America’s wet dream. The perfect man. He embodies everything about the apple pie and the white picket fence.” 

Annoyance was bubbling up in your stomach so you hit a two punch combo, hitting the mitt with a loud smack. “Barnes, you are so insufferable.” 

“There’s no need to be so elusive. I’m just saying, I think I saw a little bit of drool coming out of the side of your mouth.” He pointed to the corner of his mouth for a moment, giving you the very opening you needed. With lightning reflexes, you threw your fist out and were centimeters away from connecting with his jaw when Bucky grabbed your hand and flung you onto the mat. 

A little puff of air escaped your lungs as your back connected, Bucky’s body sitting on top of you, holding your arms pinned back. Dropping your head, you growled with frustration. Both of you were drenched in sweat and it was making your back stick to the mat uncomfortably. 

“You didn’t really think I’d let you get me, didcha?” He mocked. 

“I’ll admit, I thought I might have a small chance.” 

Bucky rolled off you and held his hand out, hefting you off the mat in one swift motion. Dropping a heavy hand on your shoulder, he steered you toward the locker rooms. Steve was still in his own world, ignoring the two of you leaving the area. 

Rounding the corner out of his sight, Bucky spun you around and rested his hands on your shoulders. 

“Be honest, kid, you into Steve?”

Your eyes widened comically as Bucky stooped down to your level, making extremely pointed eye contact with you. An unease settled in you and you shifted your eyes down to look at your sneakers.

This wasn’t really the type of thing you wanted to talk to your friends about, let alone his very best friend. You had cleverly avoided discussing your embarrassing crush on Steve Rogers for two years, opting for admiring him from afar.

“Buck-”

“I’m not judging you, I just want to know if I’m wrong because if I am, I’ll shut up right now. But I’m telling you right now, I think you’d be good for him.” 

“Uh,” wait, did you hear that right? “Wait, what?” 

“Steve is a dummy, always has been and getting the serum didn’t help him any. I see him perk up when you’re around, though. I think you’d be a good fit with him. You’re ballsy, intelligent, albeit a smart ass, and you don’t push...that much” 

When Steve had first started helping Bucky reintegrate into modern society, you had casually taken him under your wing. First it had started with tiny things like getting him to participate in small talk, then it was going out in public so he could realize that civilians didn’t worry about him. Gradually, you started hanging out all the time. Bucky quickly became one of your best friends at the compound. 

It was clear that he still struggled with PTSD from his time as the Winter Soldier. You never acted like it was something he should be over already and you tried not to push him into talking about it for the most part. 

The longer your friendship went on, you assumed that Steve would hang out with the both of you more, but he always kept his distance.  He’d have small conversations with you, but more often than not, he wouldn’t move any further than ‘how’s the weather’ or ‘Tony called a meeting’. 

Hesitantly, you shrugged Bucky’s hand off and took a step back. “But...Steve doesn’t even like me. Why would I be into him?” 

“What the hell are you talking about, you doo-doo bird?” 

Offended at the implication, you scowled. “I mean, Steve doesn’t even talk to me for longer than five minutes, so why would I be crushing on him, ass-hat?” 

“Boy, you two are dumber than I thought.” Bucky mumbled to himself. 

“Excuse me?” You squint your eyes and took a menacing step toward him. 

He looked back at you and held his hands up, stopping you in your tracks. “Calm down, killer. What I meant is, you are both missing the obvious. Steve is just too stubborn so he thinks he doesn’t deserve happiness, which comes in the form of you. And you, well I’m not sure why you haven’t pursued him, but I just don’t think you’d be staring at him as much as you do if you didn’t like him.” 

Your shoulders sagged in defeat. Why, oh why, did you have to be best friends with a sniper? Of course he saw right through you from a mile away. 

“He doesn’t like me, Buck. How am I supposed to get anywhere with him if he won’t talk to me about anything but the weather or how many cookies Thor ate last time he was on Earth.” 

“You’ve got to flirt with him, knucklehead.” Bucky smacked your shoulder. “He’s not gonna get the hint unless you actually act like you’re into him. Ya know, maybe ask him out to a meal or something. And talking about Thor isn’t gonna help the situation so cut that shit out right now.” 

“But-”

“No buts, just go out there and flirt with him like the woman I know, love, and wish would get a life.” Then he was shoving you back towards the weight room with a huge shit-eating grin on, ignoring your shouts of offense. Hesitating for a moment, you glanced back to see Bucky shoo-ing you forward. 

Letting out a huge sigh, you walked around the corner and slammed right into a large wall of muscle. Steve’s hands shot out and steadied you, the contact making your skin break out in goosebumps. He’d put his shirt back on and the blue was making his bright eyes even more hypnotizing than normal. 

“Whoa there, sorry doll, I didn’t see you there.” Steve chuckled bashfully. “I thought you and Buck left a while ago.” 

“We did. But we didn’t really, we were just talking. I-I came back to talk to you, actually.” It felt like you were sweating more than you had been during your workout. His hand was still on your arm and you couldn’t focus on anything but that sensation. 

There was no reason for you to be so irrational right now, he’s just a man. Just a man who had saved the country and the entire world numerous times and was America’s Adonis. A man who also just happened to always have the most flawless hair that you always wanted to run your fingers through. Lord almighty. 

“What did you want to talk about?” 

“Ope, um,” crap, you hadn’t thought that far ahead. Here goes nothing, “I...just wanted to tell you that you looked really great during your workout today.” 

He gave you a puzzled look, “Oh thanks, yeah I was really burning steel in there.” 

“I could totally tell.” You reached forward and felt his bicep, “it looks like it’s really paying off for you.” 

Steve’s gaze fell to your hand on his arm before giving you a small smile and you promptly let go again. “I think that might be more thanks to the serum than the workout.” He teased. 

You chewed on your bottom lip, wracking your brain for what to say next. You weren’t good at flirting, it’s why you never did it in the first place. Bucky said to ask him out for lunch. “I guess you’re probably right about that. Well, I bet you worked up a huge appetite after that, huh? All that hard work.” 

“For sure, I could eat a buffet out of business after a workout.” 

Here was your chance. 

“Would you want to-” 

“But I’ve got a meeting with Tony in like twenty minutes so I’ve got to get a move on.” Steve kept talking and you grimaced slightly. “Did you have anything else you wanted to talk about?” He tilted his head, a little half smile on his lips. You wanted to leap forward and press your lips to his but that probably wouldn’t go over well, so instead you just shook your head confidently. 

“Nope. I’m all good. Enjoy your meeting with Tony!” You called in a sing-song voice as he made his way to the door. He rolled his eyes at the mention of Tony and waved back at you before letting the door swing shut. 

The air deflated out of you and you fell back onto the wall behind you, sinking to the floor and curling your knees up to your chest. If someone were to look up “embarrassing” in the dictionary, that interaction would be found. And you still hadn’t even made it past five minutes. 

“Oof, that was painful.” 

You lifted your gaze to find Bucky leaning on his shoulder above you, still in his workout clothes. Great, he’d heard the whole thing too. 

“Why did you make me do that, you ass-hat?” You yanked on his leg hair harshly, making him jump further away from you. “I’m not good at flirting!” 

“Wait, is that what you call flirting?” He exclaimed baffled. 

You scowled up at him, “I’m not friends with you anymore.” Dropping your head back against the wall, you closed your eyes in hopes of going to your happy place - without Bucky around. 

“It wasn’t that bad, kid, it just wasn’t much of anything. You started off strong but...” He crouched down so he was at eye level with you.

“But nothing. I’m an embarrassment and I will never be talking to Steve ever again.”

“No, no, no, stop being ridiculous. You just have to...flirt better. Maybe you could ask Tasha if she’d help you.” 

You flung out your hand and pushed Bucky hard in the chest, making him tip backwards onto his butt. “Not happening, Barnes. I’m not asking the Black Widow,” you emphasized, “for help flirting with Captain America. You can just forget this ever happened and I will resume being friends with you in one to two weeks - you will be notified.” 

Bucky was chortling and yelling at you to stop, but you’d already stood up and were booking it to the hallway, letting the door slam loudly on the way. 

~~~ 

Life had been perfectly fine when you were admiring Steve Rogers from afar. You were content with pining for him but knowing that nothing would ever happen, resigned to the fact that you would find a good man someday and that would be the end of it. 

What you hadn’t expected was Bucky butting his nose into your business and telling you that you’d be great with Steve. Or the fact that you couldn’t get the feeling of his hand lingering on your skin or his rippling bicep out of your head. 

It had been a full week and you were living in a continuous loop of ocean blue eyes and trying to put the lid back on the feelings you’d successfully ignored for years. 

You hadn’t talked to Bucky since you’d walked out of the gym, regardless of how many times he’d tried to trick you into speaking to him. And now you were being called for a meeting where Bucky and Steve would both be in the same room as you.

The sound of Steve Roger’s laugh made you look up instantly from the snack table and your stomach flipped at the sound. He was talking animatedly with Wanda, one hand flailing around in the air while the other hand was gripped tight to a stack of paperwork.

“You should talk to him, ya know.” Bucky’s voice was right in your ear and you elbowed him in response before walking to your seat across the room from him. You didn’t want to think that Bucky might be right so you’d rather take him out of the equation all together. 

From his chair near the front, Steve glanced over and raised his lips in a timid smile at you. It felt like you could melt into a puddle of goo right there in your chair. You returned his smile cheerfully just as you felt a small nudge on your ribs. You swiveled your chair around to see Wanda grinning like the Cheshire cat. “What?” You asked innocently. 

“I think you know what.” She giggled. “And Barnes is not wrong, you should ask him out.” 

“Hey! You promised you wouldn’t look in my head anymore.” You pouted and turned back to the front room where Bruce had just started talking about the numbers from the previous quarter - how many civilians had been saved, how much structural damage had been done, ways to stop wasting so much on utilities.

The meeting could have been only fifteen minutes but it seemed like it’d been two hours. The entire time, your mind had been on one thing, well one person. This was getting out of hand, you couldn’t even focus on a simple meeting now.

Before you knew it, Bruce was dismissing the team and everyone was stampeding to the doors. Steve, on the other hand, was casually gathering his paperwork back up with his back to you. It was just you and him alone now in the conference room. 

Sheepishly, you shuffled your shoe against the floor, praying for any smidgen of bravery to come. Steve peeked over his shoulder, surprised to see you still hanging around. 

“Hey, you. Figured you’d be headed down for lunch, I heard Tony ordered in sushi from that fancy-pants place everyone loves.” 

You shrugged loosely, “eh, thought I might stick around here for a little bit. I’m not really hungry anyways.” 

“Oh yeah?” He leaned against the table and folded his arms across his chest with a look of concern on his face. “Is everything alright? I noticed you and Bucky haven’t been hanging out much lately.” 

“Yeah, we haven’t... It’s kind of because of you...” 

It was dead silent as you both exchanged looks. 

“Me?” He asked, stunned.

Gradually, you moved to stand side-by-side with him. Maybe if he wasn’t looking directly at you, rejection would be easier. “Do you remember the day in the gym last week?” He nodded once. "The reason that I came in to talk to you was because... well, Bucky told me that I needed to flirt with you if I wanted you to realize that I liked you. But then I’m shit at flirting, and you didn’t really seem to notice or care, so I got mad at him for giving me the idea in the first place.” 

“Wait- Did you say you like me?” 

You glimpsed over at him and slowly nodded. Steve angled his body so he could see you better and you were just waiting for the moment where he starts laughing and mocking you for ever thinking he could want you. But it hadn’t happened yet. 

“You were flirting with me?” His face was scrunched up like he was trying to think back on the whole interaction. 

“Well I was trying to flirt with you. I figured you thought I’d had an aneurysm or something.” You joked, trying to lift the mood of the room but he didn’t crack a smile.

“I didn’t even realize...” Like lightning, he stood up straight and faced you, his blue eyes focused only on your face. “I’m sorry, doll, I didn’t even realize.” 

“Steve, you don’t have to be sorry. I know you don’t feel that way about me, and I was just mad at Barnes for letting me get my hopes up.” 

He lifted his hand and cupped your face delicately, his touch making your heart rate skyrocket. “Who said I don’t have feelings for you?” 

“U-um yo-you never, well you never wa-want to talk to, ya know, me...” You stammered out clumsily. 

“I thought you liked Bucky, doll.” He said without hesitation. “You guys are always spending time together and I didn’t want to get in the way of either of your happiness.” 

“Are you serious?” You couldn’t help the loud laugh that passed your lips. “I wanted to be friends with Bucky in the first place because you thought he was worth being friends with... and I thought you might hang out with us.” 

Steve shut his eyes and let his head fall forward, his forehead bumping against yours softly from how close he was to you. His hand was still against your cheek and you allowed yourself to relax into his touch more. 

Finally, he lifted his head, “so last week when you asked if I was hungry, that’s because you were-”

“Trying to ask you out, yes.” 

“Boy am I dumb.” 

You snorted at that, “that’s the same thing Bucky said.” 

Steve let out a breathy laugh before moving a bit closer to you. “I hope I haven’t lost the chance to take you up on that offer.” 

The smell of his minty breath fanned in your face causing your mind to go blank and the only thing you could do was smile up at him like an idiot. As if your body was moving on its own, you shifted closer and his arm wrapped around your waist as if he’d done it a million times. 

At the same time you both leaned together and connected your lips in an innocent kiss. The entire world stopped turning at that moment. It was so soft and pure as he held you tightly against his body, a good thing because your knees had buckled at the contact.  Draping a hand over his shoulder, you twisted your fingers into his hair, letting your other hand curl up on his muscular chest. 

After the most blissful moment of your life, Steve pulled back and was beaming. This beautiful man had just kissed you and was happy about it. Damn, life couldn’t get any better. 

“Would you allow me to take you out to lunch, doll?” He asked, his voice a little husky. 

“Absolutely, Captain. Lead the way.” You said, laughing when he blushed from you using his title. 

Setting you back down firmly on the floor, he intertwined his fingers with yours and led you out to the elevator. The whole time, you were so enamored with Steve that you barely noticed Bucky waiting at the end of the hall with the most arrogant, smug look on his face.

[logicalbookthief]

76 on the prompt list :>>> excited to see what u come up w/

Anon, your faith in me was truly misguided. I saw this prompt and went, “ooh, ok, let’s do some heartfelt angst,” and then as I started that my brain went, “nah, this instead.”

And by this, I mean “domestic & married Reddie being gross and in love and having a drama queen for a kid”

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Prompt: 76 – “It could be worse. They could be dating.” “Wait. They are?!”

Summary: “Our daughter is dating a nose-picker?!” Eddie says it with the disdain of someone describing a serial killer.

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Richie kicks the door closed with his foot, already slipping it halfway out of his shoe. He dumps his duffel on the floor, which Eddie’ll chide him for later. That’s a problem for future Richie, not present Richie, who’s running on pure caffeine after his non-stop flight from Atlanta to LA.

The distant thump of 80s music lures him to the kitchen. Eddie’s humming along to the radio as he rinses lettuce for one of his seasonal salads. Richie would bet his life it includes pine nuts. 

Padding quietly across the hardwood, Richie warps his arms around his husband from behind. “Honey, I’m home!”

Eddie jolts, relaxing the minute he feels the frame of Richie’s glasses against his head. “Jesus,” he sighs, dropping to a whisper. “Jack, what’re you doing, you know my husband’s coming home today!”

“Jack?!” Richie squawks, twisting him around by the lapels. “As in, our mailman?”

“Oh, whoops,” Eddie feigns shock, the facade lasting all of a second before he throws his arms around Richie’s neck, swooping in for a kiss. 

Richie moans, a little satisfied hum against Eddie’s lips. “Where’s my other sweetheart?”

His husband adjusts his shirt where it’s riding up, due to his Richie’s wandering hands. “Moping,” he explains, delicately.

“She’s seven. What does she have to mope about?” Richie deadpans. His mouth twists into a grimace. “Wait. Are you trying the tuna casserole recipe again?”

Eddie whips around. “What the fuck’s wrong with my–?”

“Nothing!” he answers quickly. Eddie narrows his eyes, wielding the salad-spinner like he wants to use it on something besides leafy greens. “So what’s eating my little Spaghetti-o?”

“Mrs. Diaz separated her from her cubby-buddy, Jonas,” Eddie informs, eyebrows rocketing to his hairline. “Apparently they were too disruptive as a pair.”

“Jonas? Isn’t that the nose-picker?” He regrets this observation as Eddie gags over the croutons. 

Everyone has a thing, a thing that trips the gag reflex. Many things bring out that response in Eddie, yet none so viscerally as his aversion to snot, boogers, and the like. Ever since they were kids, it was the surefire way to make him heave. Even if the snot in question was connected to their child.

So when it came to boogers, Richie was the go-to parent, while Eddie graciously agreed to handle the diaper meltdowns. After all, the key to a successful marriage is compromise. Compromise, and lots of Clorox wipes. 

At the school’s Christmas pageant last year, the boy standing next to Nina started digging for gold halfway through Twelve Days of Christmas and found a nugget before they hit two turtle-doves. Poor Eds nearly hurled in Richie’s lap. 

“Don’t remind me,” Eddie shudders. “Anyway, she’s heartbroken over it. As soon as we got home she ran to her room. I tried to talk to her when I brought her a snack and she asked me to please give her time.”

Richie imagines that coming out of his seven-year-old’s mouth and snorts. “Sorry,” he adds. “Not funny.”

Eddie ducks his chin to hide his smile. “Even for her, it’s a tad overdramatic,” he admits, glancing up at Richie through his lashes. “I didn’t have the heart to pester her, but, maybe since you’re home…”

“I’m on it!” Richie stretches the lingering kinks out of his neck. “I’m a world-famous comedian back from a sold-out show. Cheering our daughter up should be a cinch.”

“Mhm,” Eddie intones, not sounding very confident. Which, rude. He seems rather distracted by the length of Richie’s biceps as they stretch over his head. His eyes gleam with an anticipation that has nothing to do with salad. Richie’s got the same itch crawling beneath his skin and he’s very eager to scratch it. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and the dick grow harder. 

His knocks at Nina’s room are ignored, so Richie gently pushes the door open to peer inside. At the sight of his daughter curled up on the bed, he breaks into a smile.

“Eyyy, there’s my girl!” 

Nina raises her head from the pillow, uttering a curt, “Hi, Dad.”

Well, that’s far less enthusiasm than he was expecting. Considering he was gone for almost a week. Nothing like a child’s indifference to keep you humble.

“Aww, sweetie, what’s wrong?” His ears perk at the soft croon of Whitney Houston in the background. “And … what the heck are you listening to?”

“Playlist,” she mutters, blindly flinging an arm toward her device. She’s got it open to his Spotify. 

Richie should probably delete the app from her tablet, like, yesterday. If she ever stumbles across his “Songs to fuck Eddie to” playlist he’ll have to commit samurai-suicide.

However. Given this playlist is called “Sad love songs to cry into your Chipotle burrito,” Richie has a better idea of what type of crisis he’s dealing with here. 

“Sooo, uh. Your daddy told me. You and Jonas, you two are…?” He winces at her lip-tremble, which confirms his worst suspicions. “That’s rough, kiddo.”

“I’ll never be happy again,” Nina sniffs miserably. “I love Jonas and now we’ll never see each other!”

“You are still in the same class,” Richie points out.

She whirls on him, eyes flashing lividly.

“We sit by last names! His is at the beginning, mine’s at the end!” With more venom than a child should be capable of, she hisses, “I hate the alphabet.” 

“O-Kay,” says Richie, truly at a loss. Luckily, she doesn’t seem inclined to talk about it anymore. Instead she stuffs her face back in the pillow, not quite fluffy enough to absorb her lovelorn sigh.

He pets her hair, curling it around his fingers, until the sniffles eventually dwindle. “Do you want us to make you a special dinner? Anything you want,” Richie cajoles.

Nina thinks it over, tilting her cheek enough to say, “Can you ask Daddy to make tuna casserole?”

Richie blanches. “Wha– Why?”

“I want my belly to feel as bad as my heart,” she mumbles.

He manages to keep a straight face as he bends to kiss her brow and leaves her to sulk, but it’s a close call. When he reports back to the kitchen with his news, there’s no tact necessary.

Eddie laughs ‘til he’s out of breath. “It isn’t funny,” he repeats, slightly winded.

“Of course not,” Richie agrees, failing to stifle his own grin.

“I love her, I’m sorry she’s hurting, but she’s so–”

“Theatric?”

“She gets that from you,” Eddie accuses.

“Excuse a moi?” Richie balks. “This, coming from the guy who kissed me out of the deadlights like some low-budget horror rebut of Sleeping Beauty?”

“What, should I have let the clown eat you?” Eddie glances his way, slyly. “I was referring to middle school. When you spent an entire night cranking your mom’s Bonnie Tyler records because I said you kind of looked like a frog, and you remembered how three weeks ago I told Bev I’d never kiss a frog even if it turned into a handsome prince?”

“Fucking Stanley,”  Richie huffs. “I swore him to secrecy. We spit on it and everything.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “At least for Nina, it’s only a crush. It could be worse,” he scoffs. “They could be dating.”

Richie tries to school his expression, he does, but – the thing is. After spending almost their whole fucking lives together, minus those twenty-two years of amnesia in between, Eddie can spot his tells from a mile away.

“Wait. They are?!” He slaps a hand over his mouth, aghast. “Our daughter is dating a nose-picker?”

He says it with the disdain of someone describing a serial killer.

“Ugh, Rich, that–ew! What if they hold hands after h–he–”

The suggestion of it alone has Eddie bending over the sink.

“Babe, c’mon.” Richie soothes a palm up-and-down his spine. “You’ve drilled the importance of hand-washing into Nina since she could walk. I doubt she’s carrying around any clingers.”

On cue, Eddie lets loose another dry heave.

“Will you stop?” he groans, glaring over his shoulder at Richie. “This is awful. Literally, of all the kids in her class, why this one?” 

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion,” says Richie, though Eddie’s eyebrows beg to differ. He loves his husband, deeply, irrevocably, but he’s also one of most ridiculous people on the planet. “Remember, we like Jonas? Jonas is nice! If a little unsanitary… He’ll grow out of it, though. Like I did.”

The words leave his mouth before his brain can flash any of the red warning signs. Slowly, ever so slowly, Eddie turns. They lock eyes. His gaze brims with the horror of this realization.

“Are you saying,” Eddie begins, dangerously low, “that you used to pick your nose when we were kids a-and then, you’d touch me?”

“Used to?” Richie grabs the fleeing Eddie and hauls him back before he really does leave him for their incredibly buff mailman.

“Babe!” he chuckles. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, I swear! I swear on Ben’s chiseled abs!”

“Disgusting, you’re disgusting,” Eddie grumbles, wriggling in his grasp. “Let go of me, don’t even think of touching me with–”

All of a sudden, Eddie squeals, wracked with a full-bodied spasm.

“With what?” Richie taunts, continuing to tickle him. “With these filthy, boogery fingers of mine?”

“St–op!” Eddie wheezes. “I’m gonna piss my pants!”

“Don’t exploit my pee kink,” he snaps, which only makes Eddie wheeze harder.

“I’ve had my fingers in your ass,” Richie reminds. “In fact, you love my fingers in your ass.”

Whether from embarrassment or exertion, Eddie flushes. “Fuck you, that’s extremely different!”

“You’re right, it’s probably more disgusting.” Teeth skirting over his earlobe, Richie leans down, his voice a sultry hush, “Because I like to use my mouth there, too.”

Eddie muffles a moan into his fist. “I see what you’re doing,” he grits out. “And it won’t work. No way I’m sleeping with you now, nose-picker.”

Richie makes a wounded noise, clutching him more firmly to his chest. “Please, Eds, baby, I can change! I’ll go to meetings, therapy– I’ll never stick my finger anywhere you don’t want again!”

“I don’t know if I can ever look at you the same.” Eddie’s reply cuts off into a giggle as those fingers attack his flank. “Seriously, Rich, I am going to–!” 

They’re interrupted by the violent swing of Nina’s door against the wall.

“Will you two keep it down?!” she shouts. “I’m trying to mourn!”

The door slams shut again. They gawk at each other in silence. Finally, Richie pools enough blood into his brain to speak.

“Are we terrible parents?”

Eddie kisses the underside of his chin. “Ask me that when your semi isn’t plastered against my ass,” he says, flatly.

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@trashmouth_tozier

Hi my name is Richie and I’m a recovering nose-picker. Ages 3 thru 9 were rough, but with the support of my dear husband, I’ve managed to keep my fingers clean. Hope my story can help inspire someone else xx

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Bev: why did Eddie ask for the number of my divorce lawyer ?

Bev: nvm I saw your tweet

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Am I projecting my own snot-induced gag reflex onto Eddie? Yes. Do I still believe my characterization was spot-on? Yes again.  

[itsclydebitches]

I saw a good interpretation of the bee/marrow scene- in the chapter where it’s revealed the ace ops aren’t friends, yang says something like “but when you go through so much with someone things change right” Blake’s ears perk and she looks conflicted(?) So I think that’s why they reacted like that, like “we’re not like you guys” while showing they have an attack together. funny cuz I don’t ship it but I’m interested to see where they’re going with this

Yeah, that scene “fits” with the rest of this volume’s tendency to show (what I consider) strange and undeserved reactions. It’s not that I don’t get what RT is trying to accomplish most of the time, including that implication that they’re super attuned to one another whereas the Ace Ops apparently (apparently) aren’t, it’s all just... off. If you want to make RWBYJNR the good BFF team to contrast the military-minded Ace Ops, don’t show the Ace Ops as equally close friends who are so attuned they fought a fight without needing to lay out a single, explicit order. If you want to show that Blake and Yang are confident as a team, you can do that without making them so antagonistic towards Marrow (a problem I have with Yang overall). If you want Nora to be angry enough over Mantle to start yelling at her boss, you can build to that so it doesn’t blindside the viewer. For me it’s never an issue of, “Why are the characters experiencing this emotion?” because that’s usually pretty obvious. Rather, it’s “Why are the characters experiencing emotions to this extreme and in this way?” To achieve what RT seems to be going for Harriet should be more surprised than assertive (oh, I didn’t realize we were friends but yeah... based on how we act I guess we kind of are), Yang and Blake should be smug or playful or explanatory (your small talk doesn’t deserve two glares that make you stumble over yourself to backtrack), and Nora should be gradually getting more frustrated about this specific issue, not annoyed at Ren last episode, solving that, and then suddenly screaming at Ironwood over something else (the fury you’re demonstrating has been building in a logical way). Or, if characters react in ways that seem extreme/unexpected/OOC, others should comment on that. This isn’t normal and it’s leading to something. Like we’re seeing with Ren. 

All of which might seem like absurd things to point out. Why do you care if this scene didn’t read precisely like you expected it to? Well, because RWBY is a comparatively short show packed with a huge cast and thus every interaction counts. If a character only gets a bit of screen time every other episode, you need to use that time wisely. To say nothing of the fact that it’s not just the three examples listed above. RWBY does this constantly. From the show completely dropping Ruby’s anger from last volume to this odd blend of romantic/social justice anger from Nora, the characterizations are all over the place. Oscar can question Ruby’s decision to lie to Ironwood and then turn around to tell Ironwood that he should be talking to people more just episodes later, without the viewer getting to see how he went from one perspective to another. Characters just feel things and express things based on what the plot needs them to at any given moment, with only a very tenuous consistency/evolution throughout the volume. Even less across volumes. 

[mcintyrefrancis]

average price boat insurance

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare quotes from different companies :car4insurance.xyz

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[myquirkylife]

If you’ve been in a never-ending cycle of dieting down and eating minimal total calories without seeing much difference or plateauing, chances are your body needs a reverse diet to strengthen your metabolism. What’s a reverse diet, you ask?

Reverse dieting is a process in tracking macronutrients in where you gradually increase your calorie intake after a sustained period of dieting. This concept allows you to slowly reintroduce extra calories (usually in the form of carbs and some fats, while keeping protein fairly consistent) so that you can help your metabolism recover from low-calorie dieting. Adding calories back in slowly is ideal in order to not rapidly gain back what you worked hard to keep off. Not to mention, it helps tremendously for your mental health after the stress of so much calorie restricting. I digress, this post is not intended to explain exactly what a reverse diet is, so if you’re curious to know more, here are a few great sources:

Macro Fit

Corina Nielsen

Dr. Layne Norton, PhD

You may have seen folks in the fitness industry that track their macros, post about their reverse diets on Instagram with glowing pride. Just check the #reversediet hashtag…

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When people post about their reverse diets, it is usually all sunshine and happiness. Hell, even I have been guilty of that the first time I ever was put on a reverse diet, which was back when I first started tracking my macros two and a half years ago:

December 3, 2014

The first time around, it sure was fireworks and fuckyeahs all around. I mean, what’s not to be ecstatic about? Coming off of bro diet and paleo, I was eating bread again, eating much more AND getting leaner?! You bet your ass I was eager to share my results. Who wouldn’t be?

Well, that was back then. I’ve done a couple short term (bad idea, but I’ll touch on that a bit later) reverse diet stints since then. I have been in a constant vicious cycle of dieting down to fairly poverty macros, but would get exasperated with the low numbers and see little change, so I was quick to think they’re not working, so I’d hop right back into a reverse diet, but as soon as any gain began happening, I’d freak out and get back into a cut.

This time, I’m here to stand on my little soap box and proclaim that reverse diets are not all rainbows and sunshine every time. Are they necessary? Yes, but there is a dark side to it that not many talk about.

Fat gain is inevitable. How much will vary. As you saw, on my first reverse diet, I leaned out quite a bit. Those are the lucky few – and, from what I’ve seen, it seems like people tend to lean out on their first reverse diet and not as much on their following ones. But don’t quote me on that, I don’t have scientific data to back that up, it’s just what I’ve seen. On some, the gain will not be noticed, but on others, it most definitely will be noticed. You will notice it before anyone else does – specially on the scale – and this is where most people will want to jump ship and start to cut (diet down / lower macros) again prematurely, before they’ve truly given their metabolism a chance to recuperate and get their intake up.

Too soon?

Mental fuck. This correlates to the last point but it deserves to be expanded on. The mind is a very powerful part of your being as a whole and holy crap it makes it hard af to be okay with gaining some weight. It takes mental grit to accept yourself in a controlled chubbier state. Not to mention, during the reverse diet process, you’ll be seeing a whole lot of #transformationtuesday and Before/After posts on social media of people with the body you had or want. And if you happen to be reversing in the summer months, it stings just a little more. The gain will mess with your mind and make you question why you’re doing this.

So much food. Eat all the foods they said. It’ll be fun they said. Well, I may be in the minority here, but I do not have goals to eat 300g+ carbs and 150g+ fats. You may see people on social media that eat that much (and more) and look shredded with comments on their posts from followers green with envy about eating that much and how they wish they could eat that much and look like that. Well, eating a lot not only can leave you full all of the time (which can make training uncomfortable) but it also gets expensive! I’m currently on a reverse diet and I’m currently at about 180g carbs and 70g fats and it is already starting to feel like a lot. Sometimes it gets to a point where the thought of eating another meal to hit your numbers for the day is nauseating. When you start to feel this way, first of all, be patient, but second of all, you have start to include more calorically dense foods into your day while still getting in your micronutrients, of course.

Feels like forever. The more I consult with experts (hey Mark from Avatar, you the real MVP), the more I realize how much I shorted myself in the past on the previous reverse diets I’ve been on. My first two lasted no longer than 2 months each. Any sign of puffy or gain and I ran back to a cut. From what I’ve read, the recommended timeframe is about 4 to 6 months, but obviously it is case by case.

Enough about the overall dark sides. My experience on this particular reverse diet has been fairly unique because of numerous factors, but doesn’t make it any less of a mental fuck.

Having hip arthroscopy surgery in November 2016, followed by being put on a too aggressive reverse diet while still in recovery by my coach at the time, combined with dealing with a developed mysterious constant abdominal discomfort, caused some initial weight gain post op. Fast forward to about March, during my journey to find out why I’ve been experiencing abdominal pains and while still going through the last of my physical therapy, I made the decision to re-join Avatar under the moderate fat loss setting (of course I wanted to start cutting again, haha) and sadly, my body did not respond to poverty macros for the month I was on them. No change or loss and eating very minimal calories considering by this time I was cleared to return to regular training. After a long email chat with Mark, I was advised to begin a conservative reverse diet because it really wasn’t safe for me to go any lower with macros for someone my size and with the amount of training I was doing. And I’ve been on a reverse diet since then. There was an initial gain when I first started but after about 2-3 weeks of keeping at it, weight finally stabilized and has been within a 2-3lb range since then. But boy is it a mental battle.

My woes: I try to avoid being in pictures at all costs these days because I feel fluffy. I’ve avoided going to the beach to not have to put on a bikini. I’ve only posted training videos when I’m very happy about my post op recovery but refrain otherwise because I don’t like the way I look in them. Weighing myself tends to be disheartening, but I know it’s necessary to see trends. Knowing that I know what to do to lose fat but holding off for my own good, is so hard. Feeling sexy while in this chubbier state is hard to come by. Training while not only dealing with that pesky mysterious abdominal pain but also while generally being in a state of full, sucks.

There ARE bright sides…don’t worry, I’ll keep this section brief since these benefits are what people tend to talk about when referring to reverse dieting.

Fun foods. Eating more definitely has its perks. You’re able to easily fit in more “fun” foods such as bagels, rice, pasta, peanut butter (not just a tiny teaspoon), donuts, french fries, pizza and much more. Of course, you can fit these foods in while cutting, but it is definitely not as easy, and usually have to eat a lot less through rest of the day. I’m trying to keep this in mind and fit in foods I normally don’t get to. And also remind myself that this reverse is temporary so I might as well take advantage and try to enjoy it while I can.

Socializing. Having the freedom of being social and actually eating at these social events without feeling extremely restricted is a pretty great feeling. When on a cut and on low macros, it takes a lot of planning to attend and enjoy a social event. With higher macros, you have more flexibility to enjoy the people around you and the food that is there.

Get strong(er). This is the part I’m trying to focus the hardest on. I’ve had the all clear from my surgeon since April and I have been back on a full 5-day weightlifting cycle since then, working on technique and re-gaining the strength I lost post op. Couple this with eating more and it is the perfect recipe for getting stronger. It seems to have been working because I am extremely close to matching my pre op lifting numbers (more on this in a post coming soon). Eating at maintenance or in a surplus is the prime time to make gains in the gym. Although it may not feel like it, you ARE building muscle underneath the fluff and one day it will show.

Temporary. This is another aspect I’m trying to keep in mind. A reverse diet is temporary. There will be an end to the fluff. Remind yourself you’re doing this for the long term, for the big picture, for your optimal health.

This post is not meant to make you fear reverse dieting. Reverse dieting is necessary. Humans were not meant to diet their whole lives. Not meant to be in an endless deficit. So, here I go, going to keep on trucking on this reverse with a plan to begin cutting in late September or early October. Until next time, party people.

Check out my mew post that covers the dark side of #reversedieting, what people don't tell you If you've been in a never-ending cycle of dieting down and eating minimal total calories without seeing much difference or plateauing, chances are your body needs a reverse diet to strengthen your metabolism.

[diaengelo-blog]

Cheats For Payday 2

Fittingly, Payday 2 Xbox One Code is like a loan provider heist. Even though it could appear boorish, it s essentially among the finest portions of the information. |As i followed i most likely could remain located in naive bystanders, i wasn t even pleased anymore. A part of why it truly is so tricky, and pleasant, is all of the different data and conditions that play the game important assignments. These ai helpers aren t even allowed to obtaining coupled with aims or transporting dollars sacks, paying the most effective, most simple objectives virtually unplayable. Its mechanics are exceedingly serious, and it is building so unknown when compared with common shooters, it could actually seem to be mind-boggling when civilians are performing every single which way, your thermal drill is jamming upon targeted lender vault, and law enforcement sirens are getting louder and louder inside your the ears. 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Or a person, around could very well see the tinkling of weakened glass, and right before lengthy, the cops are enroute and also your get away from vehicle has bugged out. |Dangle within lengthy satisfactory, and so you ll inevitably be overrun, regardless of how efficiently you delay and challenge the progressing surf. Whilst you increase values and create dollars and xp, you discover new purchasable weaponry for this collection and therefore are recognized with proficiency points you could get all the way to many expertise that in addition have a fee. It s pleasing to work all the way to further expertise and great to set them into measures. One can find an attractive new handgun attachment, notwithstanding, you can rather wrap up a record of a little income extra or materials used to craft a whole new cover up. To have legendary crime rampage. Amir lied. Makes the video game unfounded and 100 % ignores individuals that get a minor fortune and time to the ammunition trainer. 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Thank goodness, the type progression dishes be apparent satisfactory, and Payday 2 Xbox One Code offers a complicated category of proficiency trees you are able to flit from on impulse. The better you play the game, the larger expertise you discover, the larger you specialize in your team, as well as the greater you learn how every heist s just a bit randomised rhythms, the larger interesting you will get. Payday 2 is mainly an online centered multiple gamer 1st woman shooter members choose a heist when using new and unnecessarily complicated “crime.net” an online graphic program that features since objective |This wasn t a perfect decision, as stealth isn t great at 1st woman aimbots, and it is made even more difficult at this website throughout the useless ai enemies will randomly place you together with also switch on alarm systems it doesn t question how in close proximity or banned the thing you do is, also in the unfortunate incident that you will be relying on crawlers inside your category of several, you can find extremely frequently them to will probably result in alarm systems or begin with firing into crowds of people, spoiling any potential for confidentially finish a objective. 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Bain would certainly flame whomever imperfections, place their slice, and destroy them, 2. you might want to deficiency, and so you visit even if chart that s just the back end for this vehicle to murder everybody indoors two or three seconds or simply a small-scale all round fps fashion chart and problem the other person cod fashion. By using the release of Payday 2 Xbox One Code the large ranking, a lot of dough via the crimewave edition and the formerly released dlc kits up to the wrap up of 2015 (you will still requirement pay money for dlc out of this twelve months independently) and a couple of new enhancements, i required to discover should i most likely could recapture the existing wonder. Subsequently after i discontinued playing portable computer laptop or computer ammunition trainer, i d an entirely made figure and also a reliable team of heavy steam friends to immediately after as soon as i is at the atmosphere to get a heist. |Very low place figures is usually fitted just like the qualified personnel in heat, but make no fault, they readily share significantly more that is just like the wet bandits than people. Immediately after you get place 100, you are able to principally reputation for some greater infamy place to discover exclusive cosmetics and titles at the fee for your dollars. In addition they take up stock room space that although ample, finally expires and should be grown with at this point a higher price. There s quite a lot to use interesting with and individualize in Payday 2 Xbox One Code, even though a lot of it requires a grind that would not be unnatural within a free to play the game ammunition trainer. Teammates even now just stare at Should you really certainly never picked out inside of the crimewave edition for as well for this existing gen consoles, $49.99 is certainly not an inadequate total price just to begin the process and enjoy yourself with many dlc that is released. such as a unique less blow for fanatics who ve remained making use of the ammunition trainer. Seize half a dozen sacks of funds, significantly more once we are feeling convinced. |The jerk called the cops quickly as soon as he noticed us. These objectives may additionally range between straightforward lender robberies to transporting remedies, although, it doesn t question what exactly the constructed is, most seem to requirement consumers to enter one thing, and also to continue excessive cost supplements to get your getaway truck. I actually do not genuinely create a numerous loadout, it fully will depend on which sorts of objective it s and simply what all of those other squad s makeup is. 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[thomasroach]

Sekiro Review: Shinobis Die Many Times

The post Sekiro Review: Shinobis Die Many Times appeared first on Fextralife.

In this Sekiro Shadows Die Twice Review I’ll explore FromSoftware’s new Action game and answer some burning questions you have such as: Is Sekiro like Souls? Is Sekiro worth buying? and Is Sekiro a good game?. Please be mindful that this review contains mild gameplay spoilers of mechanics and an early game area.

Important: To understand our score, read the Fextralife Review Guidelines. Sekiro falls between “Great” and “Brilliant”. Every reviewer has their own “compass” for what numbers mean, so for reference I gave Dark Souls Remastered an 8.8, Nier: Automata an 8.7, and Bloodborne a 9 and I love them all.

Sekiro Review: Shinobis Die Many Times

Genre: Action-Adventure Developed by: FromSoftware Published by: Activision (Int) FromSoftware (JP) Release date: March 22th, 2019 Platforms: PS4 (review platform PS4 Pro), Xbox One, PC. Review code provided by Activision. Price at the time of the review: $59.99

  Sekiro Story & Setting

Sekiro takes us to a fantastic version of Sengoku Japan. Sengoku is a famous period of Japanese history, during which war ravaged the entire country for over 150 years. The strife and unrest was fueled by political cues, led to the extermination of prominent Japanese families, and completely reshaped the power structure of Japan.

Given the enormous scale of the battles, Sengoku is a popular time for both historians and fiction writers, which usually focuses on the Battle of Sekigahara and the surrounding main actors.

Sekiro does not follow this path, instead creating a fictional version of Japan and the Sengoku period, and adding mythical elements such as an ancient Dragon Bloodline to fuel the plot. This is likely a good choice, as the gaming world is saturated with Nobunaga and Tokugawa references by now.

Unlike previous works, Sekiro delivers the story in a more straight-forward manner. With a set and even voiced protagonist, the world moves in a much more coherent story than Souls games might have done for others. Everything is explained quite clearly and dialogue options can be revisited as many times as possible. This does not mean that Lore hunters won’t have anything to do, as there is plenty of folklore and FromSoftware’s own interpretation of Yokai to find and talk about. It is just a lot easier to access for the average player that might skip reading item descriptions.

So how is the story, then?

The protagonist is a well realized character, and it is clear from the get-go that you will find story twists that challenge the initial world view. This does not detract from the plot and the decisions the player must make, and you will find yourself intrigued by the many characters you meet and want to see their tale through. I very much enjoyed talking to NPCs as I explored the landscape, and the concept of revisiting memories and advancing the story through trips to the past was well executed. All in all, FromSoftware has successfully made their storytelling more accessible, and whilst I miss some of the quirkiness of the old ways, many will appreciate this new approach.

The Wolf is a dedicated Shinobi, following the “Iron Code”, but what twists and surprises await will test the limits of your devotion

Sekiro Gameplay

Action games live and die by gameplay, and Sekiro has delivered a fine-tuned and glorious realization of a Shinobi fantasy. That said, and before I go any further, I must disclaim that we just came out of playing DMC5, and that has the best gameplay possible for an action title, so Sekiro is against some really tough competition in this regard.

Gameplay focuses on the optimization of the skills of your main katana, the Kusabimaru. You will also gain access to special Prosthetic Tools that allow you to grapple onto ledges and enemies, as well as throw Shurikens, Firecrackers, a flame thrower of sorts, and much more. This sounds really enticing but players soon discover that, like many action games, you aren’t going to get your toys for a while. This is an understood concept, however I personally felt that the initial progression (say the first 5 hours of the game) dragged on in specifically keeping my toys away from me.

This was likely done to encourage you to learn how to use your katana properly, which will challenge players with its complex deflect, counter and posture systems. However it had the strange effect of making me ignore the prosthetic completely, as its effects on enemies were sub-par, and instead focus on stealth to get by, with an overly-cautious approach. Why did this happen? Well because:

Death is truly horrifying

With Souls, I learned to not care about souls. If I died and lost all my souls, I would go co-op a boss I knew and make them back, or simply focus on upgrading my weapons instead. Sekiro’s death penalty is extremely punishing when you start the game, taking away 50% of your experience and gold each time you respawn. This is mitigated by something called Unseen Aid, which negates the loss but has a measly 30% chance of triggering and then goes down from there. You can keep Skillpoints you have earned (meaning you filled a bar and it turned into a 1), but anything after that is going to slowly disappear as you attempt a hard section. Further, since you have no easy access to merchants, your gold will most likely be gone too if you don’t have the mechanics down.

But wait, there’s more! If you die a lot, you will also spread Dragonrot, which sickens NPCs and actively blocks their questlines. A completionist like me is thus extremely alarmed right from the get go: I don’t want to miss out! So the game’s start saw me being overly-cautious and wasting time with stealth because I didn’t want to risk my lack of familiarity with the controls deleting half a bar of experience gained and ruin NPC quests.

But why do you care about XP?

The game’s main attraction comes in the form of Skills and Skill Trees, that players can unlock to improve Sekiro’s arsenal of moves. Some of these skills are passive and make a large difference in the core mechanics, whilst others are active and perform extraordinary feats. But they all cost Skillpoints, and if you’re dying a lot you’re unlikely to fill up that bar. So you’re stuck in this strange place where you really don’t want to die because there’s no chance to regain your losses, which means you might want to go farm to fill the XP bar and spend all your gold before running into any boss room.

Git Gud!

The essence of any souls game is to overcome a challenge, and people will say “Just Git Gud“. Elitism aside, this is valid commentary, and it is extremely important for veteran souls players to truly discard their previous muscle memory when approaching this game. Players who struggle with quick reactions will also want to fully explore the Stealth mechanic and focus on gathering those skillpoints to unlock important perks. But most of all, you’ll want to be specific about progressing the game in an optimal order, as the Prosthetic Tools you find can be key to success in certain fights.

So, is the gameplay good?

Sekiro’s gameplay is the most refined FromSoftware work to date, taking it a step further than Bloodborne went. The split-second execution of amazing maneuvers and counters is flashy and satisfying, and the many skills and prosthetic tool upgrades available complement the light RPG “Stats” upgrades the player can pursue. All in all, players might be disheartened during the first few hours by the extremely punishing adjustment period, but there’s a specific wall that “lifts” if you progress in the right order, and after that you will get in the “gud” zone of “git gud” and flow through the game with great enjoyment.

Gameplay includes fan-favorite Builds, as you have limited points without farming and could create great combinations.

Sekiro Audio & Visual

Fromsoftware began conceptualization of Sekiro in 2015, and this unfortunately shows. The game’s graphics are good, but they are nothing amazing and the PS4 pro visuals are not necessarily outstanding. The rendering of backgrounds and locations is quite scenic, however, and the level design and enemy concepts are fantastic and very enjoyable.

That said, when you go into the “Action” line you start to compete with games like God of War, Assassin’s Creed Odyssey and Devil May Cry, and FromSoftware is not at the top of that game (yet). We are quite looking forward to their next engine and the visual upgrades that will come with it, but for now Sekiro sits at a very comfortable “Good graphics” veredict. They are scenic and set the mood, they won’t blow your mind away.

*Note for PC players: You will likely see better graphics than console users, this is a score for PS4 users.

Performance is of course an important factor, and we found that the game’s performance is stable, and have experienced no crashes or glitches. The framerate is not locked so it will fluctuate wildly, but we have not encountered any Blighttown-esque slideshows so you can go forth and slay with precision.

Level Design is a strongsuit of FromSoftware and they successfully delivered an intriguing and interconnected world with plenty of hidden areas to explore. The sheer size of some areas, like Ashina Outskirts, is rather daunting for any completionist. The world building truly delivers in this area, and brings up the overall score.

The music score for Sekiro was rather underwhelming to me, but it might be more impactful to those unfamiliar with Japanese tunes. There’s a definitive tempo to the combat sequences and each area has their own idle and action scores that ramp up the intensity of your play. In this regard, FromSoftware is competing with itself and has a difficult task in attempting to match or surpass the fantastic work of their previous titles. Since none of the songs stuck in my head after playing for hours and hours, I would say they have fallen just short of the task, but still delivered a great score.

Finding all the hidden corners of the world is really fun, and exploration is very much a thing.

Sekiro Replayability

This is the biggest question on the internet, and one that is extremely difficult to answer: What’s Sekiro’s Replayability? The honest answer is: we don’t know because it all depends. The game is extremely challenging to start, which will add a lot of hours to your playthrough if you aren’t a skilled player, but even beyond that there are many nook and crannies to explore if you want to obtain all the upgrade materials, special tools and rare quick items. This means that a skilled player with little interest in exploration is likely looking at 20 hours of gameplay for one playthrough, whilst a less skilled player or completionist will instead get at least 40.

But what next? Why keep playing?

Sekiro has intriguing NPC questlines as well as several endings: that alone would likely encourage most to go onto NG+. But there’s more, in NG+ you will get to face enemies with a fuller arsenal of skills, and since there are so many trees and you can only (without farming) fill up about 2 of them in one go, you will probably want to revisit and become even more flashy.

The motivation to go to NG+, to me, was always about getting more things, or facing a boss again. With Sekiro, you can do both of these things and I feel FromSoftware has done a good job in this department, so that you are happy to continue your adventure because you want to make your Wolf even more amazing.

Character Progression provides plenty of reason to keep looking around for things

Sekiro Pricepoint

As with all our reviews, Pricepoint covers the contextualization of a game, to see if you should buy it now or wait for a bargain, or skip it altogether! In Sekiro’s case, clocking in 20-40 hours minimum, it is rather comparable to other action games in the market such as Last of Us or God of War.

What Sekiro lacks in graphics, it makes up in replayability as you continue into New Game Plus to unlock more skills and try different endings, which would net a good 20 hours added to both skilled and unskilled players.

Relative to the market, there are not many releases this Spring, besides DMC5 which you really should have bought already, so Sekiro is a good investment for your gaming dollar as it will certainly entertain you for a considerable amount of time. The game has no microtransactions or announced DLC, meaning that at the time of writing you’re getting a full experience for your money, so this is a big plus to the score.

The lack of multiplayer is certainly to the detriment of both Pricepoint and Replayability, but I feel that Fromsoftware’s unique touch and approach shines through the game and makes it a day one buy for any Souls fan ready to let go of RPG and get fully into Action.

The Price is Right!

Sekiro Review Final Thoughts

Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice has been a roller coaster for Souls fans, who were initially thrilled, then disappointed at no multiplayer or customization, then reassured by a skill tree and upgrades, then concerned at possible ease from resurrection, to now horrified of actually dying.

This emotional rollercoaster matches the game’s story and setting well, and should fuel your thirst for deathblows, as you annihilate everyone that stands in your path. The Wolf is a surprisingly well-realized character, following a convincing story path, with challenging gameplay that rewards the bold.

Sekiro is not souls, and might not surpass souls, but it is an excellent side-step and a worthy journey for FromSoftware followers as they wait for their favorite developer to deliver more RPG content, hopefully incorporating some of the outstanding action of Shadows Die Twice.

    The post Sekiro Review: Shinobis Die Many Times appeared first on Fextralife.

Sekiro Review: Shinobis Die Many Times published first on https://juanaframi.tumblr.com/

[grosserfluss]

30 days of suikoden challenge , day 5 ——

favorite star of destiny from suikoden iv

here we gooo the original shitty poncy noble turned antag turned redemption arc also known as my favorite character in s4 and the hands down best unit you can’t tell me otherwise drumrooolll.......... snowe vingerhut!

to be perfectly honest, snowe has one of the best narrative arcs not only in s4, but in my opinion in all of suikoden overall. it’s not only realistic and suitably solemn, but executed in a fashion that makes it believable. considering he’s just about one of the only characters in s4 who experiences any character development whatsoever ( i’m kind of tempted to say the only one...... ), it’s like the development team just put literally all their energy into making his story fantastic and then forgot about everyone else. perks: snowe is fucking amazing. cons: everything else kinda sucks character-wise. not that i’m saying the other characters are exceedingly dry and boring; there are definitely still good eggs in the cast. but none of them get character development; they pretty much stay static throughout the game. nor are they particularly dynamic in and of themselves. snowe is pretty much the only one who doesn’t feel like a trope.

he starts out the game winning trophies in the World’s Worst Best Friend contest left and right. though he’s lazlo’s best friend, it’s pretty much a given that he considers him more of a shadow than how one would really treat their friends. he’s so spoiled and self-absorbed that he never gives a thought to what lazlo thinks or wants — it’s pretty much all about himself and how lazlo can make him look good. he’s not mean to him, perse, but he clearly walks all over him and one gets the impression that he hangs out with him because he likes him, yes, but also because lazlo lets him have his way and because snowe looks good next to him. not surprisingly, he’s also an extremely shallow and immature individual, only allowed to take charge of missions and be in command because his daddy dearest has direct influence on the navy. 

of course, he lets his privileges go to his head — he believes he should be in charge, that everyone should think the best of him, and is just brimming with poncy young nobleman bravado. of course all the other trainees are going to listen to him and support him, because he’s clearly qualified and they’re his friends! the game sets him up wonderfully as a character, and then comes the brilliant moment at the beginning when he drastically fucks up a simple delivery mission when their ship gets attacked by pirates.

here, we find out ( we’d gotten inklings before, but it never really showed itself until this point ) that snowe is a Coward with a capital c. the moment pirates attack, he’s paralyzed by fear and inaction. when people ask him for orders, he totally blanks. and then when lazlo takes over command, snowe is appalled that he “shows him up”. realizing that no one is listening to him ( while he fucking complains about his arm not being able to move, once again showcasing how self-centered he is ) he decides to just abandon ship in a dinghy by himself. later, the player gets satisfaction in watching the commander chew him the fuck out for abandoning ship when he was captain, and praise lazlo for actually getting shit done and fending off the pirates. this moment, of course, becomes the catalyst for all of snowe’s feelings of jealousy as the commander begins to place more trust in lazlo’s abilities ( rightfully, because snowe is a fucking weenis. )

it’s little surprise, then, that when commander glen dies and the rune of punishment transfers over to lazlo, that snowe, not knowing what happened, blames the commander’s death on his friend, resulting in lazlo’s exile. while snowe seems to express some kind of guilt over causing his friend’s exile in what had been a moment of blind panic, he also seems to selfishly realize that this is also the perfect opportunity for him to regain his former esteem with lazlo gone. 

however, no one is surprised when snowe continuously proves himself incompetent over and over again. he gets ousted from the razril and ends up hopping around to a bunch of different places, trying to make a name for himself and get back some of the prestige he once had, joining up with pirates and even the kooluk empire in an attempt to make something out of himself and continue to compete with lazlo. over and over, lazlo and his army encounter him, and each time snowe expresses envy that his best friend is able to be so successful, raising up and leading a unified army, while he continues to fail. he asks “why you?” to which the player doesn’t really have an answer other than snowe’s a fucking immature jackass, but he tries so hard and fails so pathetically because of his lack of understanding that you can’t help but feel sorry for him at the same time, because he just doesn’t get it. he refuses to join you each time out of resentment and jealousy, and you can either kill him or let him go.

if you choose to let him go each time, sending him away in a sad little dinghy after sparing his life, and recruit all the other 107 stars, snowe is your 108th star. i think this is really fitting and symbolic because it’s like your reward for uniting all these people is the chance to give your best friend an opportunity to redeem himself, the one who has clearly thought little of you and sabotaged you since the beginning of the game. the suikoden games focus a lot on the theme of forgiveness — riou and jowy in s2, most notably — but s4′s forgiveness is done so well because, unlike jowy, the player probably doesn’t want to forgive snowe for what he’s done. he was so awful in the beginning, and is the reason lazlo was cast out of razril. he’s been so jealous of you the whole game. but if you choose to be sympathetic to him, you get what becomes a truly equal friendship. the game doesn’t just depict forgiveness for an otherwise sympathetic character, it asks for it from the player for a character who 100% doesn’t deserve it.

and the moment is a truly pitiful one. after you’ve gotten all 107 stars, you’re given the chance to find snowe literally floating on some driftwood in torn up rags for clothing. you’re the leader of a strong, unified army, and he’s hit rock fucking bottom, and when he stands before you and all the people he’s wronged, he knows how low he’s fallen and he’s clearly humbled. he has nothing to say other than “i’m at your mercy”, and when you choose to forgive him and let him join you, he says “i have no choice but to acknowledge how powerless i am. i knew it...i knew it all along”, indicating that he is finally mature enough to realize that everything he’s been doing was out of inferiority complex, and he realizes his mistakes. he thanks you ( for possibly the first time?? ), which shows he’s finally not taking things for granted anymore. the knights surround him in a show of acceptance, and it’s so emotional jfc my heart.

my favorite thing is that his growth comes across in lazlo’s co-op attack with him too. at the beginning of the game, your “friendship” co-op animation consists of lazlo going in and doing all the work, and then snowe coming in and delivering the showy final blow. when you get him again at the end, the co-op has changed to “true friends” and the animation is also different — the two of you are now working together, each pulling his own weight. ( it’s legit one of the best co-ops honestly the dmg output is cray ). i’ve always enjoyed this subtle indication of not only his character development, but also the development of lazlo’s friendship with him to something far more healthy and equal than it used to be.

plus, the fact that you can fish for his alternate outfits that he’s worn throughout the game and dress him up differently is fun. i always put him in his kooluk outfit cause he looks so spiffy and i feel so bad leaving him in those rags haha. he’s also an outstanding unit in my opinion, easily one of the best by end-game. he’s not versatile, but he’s a really powerful melee fighter, and i always stick a fury rune on him and have him doing upwards of 800-1000 dmg per hit, easy. for my play style ( aka. make each unit unto their own one-man army ) snowe is like. the bomb diggity.

so basically, snowe is euram barows but about 20x better. euram was clearly trying to follow the same narrative path as snowe — underdog nobleman who obviously doesn’t have much talent and is trying to sabotage the protag but realizes his mistakes in the end and learns humility. the difference is that snowe, while certainly pathetic and worthy of scorn from the player, is never reduced to farce the same way that euram is. while the player has a hard time taking euram’s bombastic personality and slapstick actions seriously, snowe's repeatedly failed attempts to make something of himself are 100% serious. thus, his endgame redemption feels much more believable than euram’s, which felt really shoehorned in. snowe also shows more inklings of development throughout the game — though he continues to be resentful and envious each time you encounter him, he slowly loses the hubris of early game and starts to visibly question himself well before you get to recruit him, setting up for the moment of his recruitment very nicely. it doesn’t feel sudden or forced at all, unlike euram where it was sort of like you hit a switch and suddenly he got a lobotomy or smth and is now redeemed.

i’ve already written way too much but basically snowe is, in my opinion, the best example of character development and personal narrative in the suikoden series. his early-game self is infuriating, but believable, and his progression through the game is organic and equally well-executed. his redemption is really a redemption — unlike jowy and sialeeds, he didn’t have good intentions for his bad actions. he straight up did awful things and was a pretty awful person. there’s no reason we or lazlo should forgive him. but the point of real forgiveness isn’t to forgive someone you already want to forgive. unlike any other suikoden game, s4 presents us with a character who didn’t have any good, ethical, grey-area reasons for doing what he did, and asks us to forgive him anyway. and when we do, he truly learns from his mistakes and becomes a better person. yells into the void i love snowe!!!

honorable mentions: kika, elenor silverberg, nalkul, ted, helmut

[tttinytrash]

(Another skelesnake, I’m on a roll with them as of late. Most of the headcanons associated with how they work is still lifted from Shamedump, cause they’re neat. My demiromantic, ace ass found a lack of platonic noms, but if you wanna take this as a budding romance I won’t stop you. And I was also using this as an experiment with second person POV, since I’ve never used it. Anywho, I’ll shut up and get to the story.)

-----

God, you hated retail.

You let yourself plonk heavily into one of the cheap patio chairs provided in the break room, pulling out your phone. You glanced around the room as you wrestled your phone out of your pants pocket, and made the mistake of locking eyes with Jerry.

Every retail store has one. The one worker that’s slow, lazy, and all around a pain. No one ever knows how they keep a job but there they are. That’s Jerry. A spindly, older man that was made all the more bitter by never escaping retail, blaming everyone else when he was clearly the problem. You were saved an awkward conversation by the new hire walking in.

Well, slithering to be more accurate.

Sans was a naga skeleton. Monsters had been reintroduced to humanity a few years back. Thank God the laws were finally in place and the monsters’ citizenship finally granted after a legal battle that took far too long in your opinion.

Jerry’s open sneer proved he was aligned with those who had fought to deny that citizenship. Sans ignored you both (as he tended to ignore everyone unless specifically asked.) and went to his locker. He left right after, but Jerry leapt at the opportunity to talk to you since you were freshly alone again. Damnit.

“I can’t believe they let that thing work with people.” Jerry spat. This wasn’t the first similar sentiment you’d heard. Especially not from Jerry.

You tried to stay out of it, hoping your lack of engagement would shut the racist up.

No such luck. “The thing can’t even do it’s damn job! Can’t use a forklift, why do they let it stock shelves?! It’s a burden!”

“HE,” you put obvious emphasis on the proper pronoun, “uses his magic instead. He works alongside everyone else just fine.” You feel the anger boiling, especially after last week’s incident where Jerry nearly ran over Sans’s tail with said forklift on “accident.” (Not that corporate would do anything without “sufficient proof.”) You realize you’ve already said too much and try to bite your tongue.

“It shouldn’t be around people in the first place! Our ancestors sealed them away, why don’t we do it again?”

That does it! “My God Jerry, get a life. All you do these days is bitch about monsters. They’ve done nothing wrong! They’re people who just want to be left alone to live their lives, and I can’t believe you’ve taken up such issue with that. If you don’t like monsters so much, just leave them alone! Because I’m sure they’d all be happy to not have to deal with you, I swear!”

You feel the adrenaline wear off, and look back at a stunned Jerry. You decide that’s enough of a break, and storm out of the room.

As you exit, you see Sans on a lone patio chair out in the hall. Guess he was taking his own break, and elected to steer clear of Jerry. You feel the blush on your cheeks like fire as you immediately wonder how much he heard of your snap. You shuffle past in a rush and nearly trip when you hear Sans voice a casual “thanks.”

You stop long enough to look back to see him looking at you with a small smile, throw him and awkward one of your own coupled with a rushed nod, and continue your shuffle away back to the sales floor.

God, what’s HR gonna do with you?

-----

HR didn’t do much.

Not that that’s surprising, in retrospect. Jerry and you both got called in, given a verbal slap on the wrist, but neither one got a write up.

While that outcome was anticlimactic, you did get a positive result elsewhere. Sans had started talking to you at work, and eventually you two exchanged numbers. Nearly a year later, you were hanging out outside of work. It was a nice friendship you two had going, and you guess you had to thank Jerry for it, which was ironic.

You were both at your house, playing a video game together. It was a Co-Op game you both had interest in but no one else to play with, so this wasn’t the first time he’d been over for a gaming session. You both laughed when you fell off the stage and died, but the mirth was cut short by the power cutting out.

“the hell?” Sans voiced, conjuring a glowing red bone to cast at least some dim light into the dark room.

“Lemme see.” You respond, pulling out your phone. You check for scheduled outages or weather notifications. “Crap. The snowstorm that was supposed to brush by changed course. Whiteout.”

“welp. guess i’m sticking around, eh?”

“Yep. If you think I’m letting you leave in a white out you’re batshit. I’ll grab some blankets.”

-----

You’d decided to sleep downstairs to be a better host, and Sans had insisted you take the couch. He had a pillow nest on the floor using literally every pillow and plushie you owned save the one you were using. He swore he was comfortable in the pile, so you two had grabbed every blanket you had and divided the hoard in half. Both sufficiently burritoed against the chill settling into the house with the heater down, you tried to sleep.

You woke up who knows how long later, freezing.

You were shivering, and evidently the blankets and fuzzy PJs hadn’t been enough. Your toes were numb when you checked, but Sans seemed ok when you glanced over.

Maybe grabbing your heavy winter jacket would help. You got up to go hunting by the light of your phone but whirled around at the sound of abrupt motion behind you.

It was just Sans, he’d whipped up from his spot and had summoned a bone in his hand, looking around wildly before his eyelights settled on you. “jeez, kid.” he breathed in obvious relief. He let the bone disappear.

“Sorry, I thought I was quiet.”

“ya were. i sleep light, old habit from underground. couldn’t sleep?”

“I’m freezing my ass off. Well, more my toes. I was gonna grab a jacket. You doing ok temperature wise?”

“all good. perks of being a skeleton. in fact, c’mere.”

He adjusted a spot in his nest, looping his coils to leave a loose circle of tail.

“Y-you want me to lie there?” You ask, teeth already starting to chatter.

“i’m warm, you ain’t. seems obvious.” Sans shrugged, gesturing to the space he’d made.

You gingerly lay yourself where indicted, and he closes his coils around you loosely, then tosses the blanket over the both of you. You thank him, and apologize when he flinches away from the touch of your icy extremities. He brushes off the apology and instructs you to make sure to keep them in contact with the glowing red magic of his tail. You reluctantly do so after a bit feeling comes back as pins and needles, but you do feel better. You try to sleep again.

But can’t stop shivering enough to actually slip into sleep.

Eventually, after a few more apologies and the realization that you won’t be able to sleep the rest of the night settles in for both of you, Sans seems to have an idea. “kid, you trust me?”

“Yeah, why?”

“i have a solution. it’s no biggie for nagas, or it was at least before we were sealed away. quickly figured it ain’t so much for humans.”

“Now I’m curious. Spit it out.”

Sans laughed, “heh. more of a pun than you know.”

You just look at him confusedly.

“i could swallow you, kid.”

You tense up. “What?”

“relax. told you, it’s normal for nagas. before the underground, we’d do it with our kids or heal friends and family that way. shit, it’s even part of courting in the right context.”

“...And this context would be?”

“a friend is fuckin cold and i can help is the context, kid. unless you’re cool with not sleeping.”

You hesitated. “This is safe? You’re sure?”

“i did it to paps when he was a babybones, and he’s still around. been awhile, but yeah. it’s safe.”

You fiddled with your hands. You did trust him, even if your instincts were revolting at the idea of allowing yourself to be eaten. No, this was a stupid debate. You knew you were being irrational. You took a breath before nodding. “Ok. Let’s do it.”

Sans uncoiled from around you, and you found yourself already missing the heat. At his request you sat up straight in front of him, and gave him your hands. He guided them into his mouth, and you flinched when your fingers brushed against his tongue. 

He let you flinch away, and waited for you to make the first move to start again. Shaking just a bit, you laid your hands back in his mouth. Given this go ahead he used his hands to guide them farther back until you felt the back of your hand touch what felt like a throat. How did a skeleton have a...?

You didn’t really complete the thought as a swallow drew your hands and upper arms into his gullet, and you were brought face to face with the monster. His jaw popped and unhinged, and he guided your head to duck under his sharp teeth and follow your arms into his maw.

He swallowed again and your head was now in his throat, and that sort of felt like the point of no return. Oddly, that brought a sense of calm over you rather than dread and your curiosity came to the forefront. The material around you was warm and fleshy like his tail, but just like his coils it didn’t quite feel “right” for flesh. It was slicker and almost felt like a heated waterbed with a thick rubber or silicone membrane. 

That train of thought also died at another swallow, and now you could feel your hips balancing on his teeth. You were spared the spikes of his fangs by what seemed to be his tongue laid over them, which you were grateful for. His skull tilted back, and you sunk deeper into the tight confines. Simultaneously, your hands felt an even tighter squeeze before the pressure let up completely. 

Another swallow above and you were pushed down past that same tightness before being released into an open chamber beyond. A final gulp and your legs joined you. You heard a deep breath around you, apparently that had taken some effort. You felt like you should be scared, but despite the adrenaline you felt more numb. Maybe it was just the dregs of fight or flight? Anyway, you used your heightened senses to take in all the stimuli around you. It was wonderfully warm, and the air was easily breathable. The area was more open than his esophagus for sure, but your body filled most of the available space. You used some of your limited movement capabilities to lightly push at the wall, to find it was pliable to pressure and your hand sunk in. It was slick and almost felt wet, but you could tell that your body was in no way damp. You felt Sans press in over the space your own hand was pressing out, and the odd numb feeling dissipated into calm.

“you ok in there, kid?” Sans finally asked, voice both close and muffled.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You were right, this is much warmer.”

“heh, told ya. aight, i’m gonna get comfortable myself.”

You felt movement around you, but it was brief. He seemed to coil back up in what was probably the nest and then movement ceased. You’d pulled your hand back when he’d started moving, but now curiosity had your palm back out, running it along the wall as a test of texture.

Red made an odd growling sound, and you clenched into a ball in reaction. “What’s that?” You ask in mild alarm.

“sorry, just me. couldn’t help it, ...that felt nice.” Sans answered, the latter half pretty reluctantly.”

“This?” You clarify, running your fingers down the wall in front of you again.

Sans didn’t verbally answer, but that growl came again. 

“Are you... purring?”

“you ain’t gonna make me say that, are ya?” Sans sounded desperate and mortified, and you couldn’t help but laugh heartily.

“yeah, yeah. get your laughs in kid.” Sans says with a chuckle, and you both seem happy for the newfound levity in such an odd situation (for you at least).

“What? You want me to stop?” You tease and rub at the walls more. 

“shut up, you little shit.” His insult held no real bite, and only drew a giggle from you.

You let him off the hook though, just letting your hands explore around you. He seemed happy to concede the banter and just enjoy the quiet, and after a little time under your ministrations the tissue got softer under your hands. It seemed he was actually relaxing, which was gratifying.

After a bit the purring hitched as Sans yawned, and you surprised yourself by yawning in reply. Oh right, it was the middle of the night.

“you ok to sleep?” Sans asked.

You nod, before realizing your mistake and instead calling “Yeah, I am.” You pull your hands back again and adjust to a comfortable sleeping position. “Thanks, again.”

“don’t mention it kid. night.”

“Goodnight.”

You drift to sleep in record time, warm and safe.

[janiklandre-blog]

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

 Ash Wednesday -   10:35 cloudy, warm, just took long walk and saw that Neptune is no more, another Pilish restaurant closed, on first avenue and 11th street - I loved their garden, their generous servings - no more - a pastry place open since I was born, closed, Lanza closed - I don't think I ever went there - the ethnic places - they are going. Big renovations on PS 122 - an art center - to be made fancy and exxpensive - then passing the theater of the New City I saw an offer for free meditation at St.Mark's church on Thursdays at 8 a.m. - I might check that out - I'm not the only whom Catholic Masses have stopped interesting - one priest talking endlessless about the virginity of Mary and how wonderful it is for women to be vergins - I am against promiscuity, I too am against abortion, a good essay on the op-ed page, saying women deserve better than getting abortions.

Education, education. I just wrote to a wonderful friend about the fight a number of us have been fighting against the pharma industry that would like every last person declared mentally ill - there is no one as far as they are concerned who wouldn't do much better in life with medications - and many of us, myself included, have suffered and do suffer from the ignorance of all the lay shrinks thast abound and ready to diagnose every one as mentally ill and then stop speaking to people - to me! - because I don't have the decency to call myself mentally ill and refuse the wonderful meds that would make me a so much nicer person.

Anger, anger - yes, my anger is directed against the pharma industry - and I should learn to channel my anger directly against them - I try to by writing - and not against all thoser whom the millions they make are "educating" how wonderful and necessary their products are - and how they deserve every because after all they are doing wonderful research and if one pill costs $1000 or more - do find ways to raise the money, that pill will save you. Even Trump in his speech last night that I did end up listening to said something about the overpricing that must stop.

Yes that speech - in German we would say "sich die Haende wund klatschen" - to applaud hard until your hands are sore - I've necver seen so much applause and so many standing ovations - by uneducated people. Yes, they may have Harvard degrees - I myself sadly learned how little I learned getting my Mount Holyoke B.A. in 20 months, my UCLA M.A. straight A's in little over 7 months - finally got halted at Columbia by the fascist Bauke - putting my phd exams off, the failing me, finally passing me and then I got a letter: you did not take middle high German one - of course I had in California - and middle high German two at Columbia where I met Ari Salant - long story - and Gothic - for that course I bought my first bible because those Goth had translated the bible into their language - and all you had to do is get a bible to translate Gothic into Englissh.

Yes, I wasted my young years on obscure German lit, on obscure languages - I wish when I arrived in 1951 I had had the guts to stay with my sweet boyfriend Arno, who truly loved me and I was 19 then and he 22 - no longer a virgin! as required by this priest, Charlie - and just beginning to explore our bodies - in what is now the East Village and then was the lower East Side we could have shared with artists an apartment for 20 dollars a month - Brooklyn College where he was studying - statistics as suggested by his father and he later did use that in his job at the census bureau where he created a division Poverty Statistics, destroyed by Reagan, he got pancreatic cancer and died. His love was sociology and he did get at the New School later close to a Ph.D. - the New School notorious for keeping students forever - his later wife threatened to leave him if he didn't get a job - the census bureau was a summer job, they loved him, offered him full time work - all the perks of a govt job - she suggested he take it - he called me often at government expense and  I remember his mantra: No one to taslk to. He got very involved in the civil rights fight, later in sort of universal church - they had three children - his daughter went to the u of Chicago and married a Boston Irish, I was invited to the wedding, felt odd about going. His middle son, a philosophy student and musician committed suicide after he had died and his older son never married and now lives I velieve in Cambodia. I have remained in touch with his wife who always geneerously hosted me and friends when we came for demos to Washington - didn't want to join his church while he was alive, Unitarian, now the name comes to me - after he died became the pillar of the church - not far from the house that they had bought - in a neighborhood that has become gentrified.

His father - a survivor, his mothere was torn away from him at Auswitz, he was the only child, he was 15, she perished. My mother met his father at was was a "requisitioned hotel" - this was 1947 we lived in Munich - Jews were offered free stays in these hotels in the Alps - he shared a table with my mother - my father had refused to go there - I was extremely lonely then and so was his son - his father came to our house to check me out, approved, said he had a bottle of cooking oil I could pick up at his house - and that is where I met Arno. Both my mother and his father firmly believed young women should remain virgins - believed this should be platonic and my mother called me a whore when I kissed him a year after we had met. I told him I would "go all the way" after I had graduated high school in 1950 - three years after we had met. By then we both were plotting how to get to America - he left in early 1951, I followed him in the fall. I had scored the fancy scholarship - totally unthinkeable to give it up to stay in New York - where he had wonderful and intgeresting friends that I met when I spent vacations with him - firmly convinced that I was the only woman at Mount Holyoke College sleeping with her boyfriend - and in those days virtuous young women did what was called then: everything but. When I met my later husband and was willing "to go all the way" - I shocked him deeply and his mother had given him dire warnings of "lose women" who were out to snatch her trophy by getting pregnant - after the first time he told me he was too tired - and because I had a Mount Holyoke B.A. and he was about to enter his thrird and final year at Harvard law school we were convinced we knew EVERTHING - and we were as dumb as all those people clapping their hands sore last night - all those people who admire the speech Trump gave last night - and putting all of us into terrible danger. More military spending - that will save us. The military believes it.

Oh well. It took me alas many years to begin to understand - Arno's father had bought him a Leica (Arno's father knew how to make money) - perhaps some of the photographs are still in the basement of his house - I've been waiting for somebody to take me - so far no one has - and his widow is also growing old. Arno had gotten a driver's licence before he left Germany. His father would have given us money and we could have set out on a trip across America as the Swiss photographer Frank did who put together a book by the titlle something "of Men" - he had photographed America with the eyes of a European - he did have training in photography - but Arno happily would have taken courses - I began writing voluminously in 1946, I was 13 and we had to leave Prague where I had met in the fall of 1945 Dana, a beautiful Czech women - and as girls that age do, we loved each other - I had told I was Dutch and leaving for Holland - in the park we had played being Partisans and killing Germans - then I wrote to her from Germany that alas I was a German (still stateless until West Germany came into being and passports were issued and I got German passport number 456 - it burned in 2000)  and we began a lively correspondence - one day in 1987 I was in Prague (after 1957 I travelled a lot to Prague, the city I love most) - she reached up and gave me bundled my letters in Czech to her. Much burned in the 2000 fire - all my photographs, as my letters, much of my writing.

Writing was my early passion - alas - only one teacher realized it, Frau Eckstein - her husband had become involved with the art teacher, Frau Eckstein had stomach problems and died on the operating table. She was the only who saw a writer in me. And only in 1958 in Geneva I sat down to write my first two novels - in English - one about my year in Paris, the other about my years with Arno, from 1947 until 1953 - when our so different lives, he in Brooklyn with the poor, I in Massacusetts with the rich - no longer able to find places where we could sleep together - alas my physical interest in him had waned - none of all that did we understand - and while I've read thousands of pages of obscure German literature - never did I learn anything about my body.

Almost all the displaced persons on the boat taking me to America ended up working in factories, many never learning English. Spending life at unviversities and in libraries has been a privilege - I am happy for it - even though it hasn't taken me to this day where I wanted to be - a recognized writer. The clock is ticking - in June I'll be 85.