#like i know he's technically older than her but. it's just their vibe. i clock them as mother and her pride and joy 24/7

[cornettotrilogies]

posted this on twitter already but like. every time i see fanny and thomas together they look like a mother and her fancy little son who she dressed up so nicely for family portrait day

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

light of my life, fire of my loins. be a good baby, do what i want.

summary: requested: Andy Barber gives me such strong sugar daddy vibes I haven’t watched the show but he just looks like the kinda guy who would spoil the shit outta someone

warnings: smut everywhere. and you know, sugar daddy shit, so. also, doesn’t make a lot of sense. I have a lot more that I actually wrote, I just wasn’t sure where I was going with this. so...prompt sugar andy daddy if you want more???

word count: around 10,400

pairing: andy barber  x reader

a/n: anon! I want you to know that I started working on this as soon as you requested it! I just wanted to make sure I really got sugar daddy andy down and that it wasn’t steve rogers that I was writing. I am so sorry bc you definitely deserved this a very long time ago! if there are any typos, I apologize, I just needed to get this posted before work.

When you met Andy, you had been juggling three jobs, gaining more debt than you would probably ever be able to pull off even with a degree, fairly sucky grades caused by how much you worked, resulting in stress, anxiety, all that great shit that comes along with being someone in America that dares to want to pursue higher education.

After a few months dating Andy, you had one job that you only kept for autonomy reasons, shrinking debt, excellent grades, and truly, no stress at all. Instead of spending a night waiting tables at the restaurant near the campus, where disgusting men would flirt with you because you were on the clock and literally could not leave, you were in a tiny ass dress, covered in diamonds, drinking champagne, and trying not to be too obvious about the cum dripping down your thighs.

Obscene was often a word that you played with in your mind whenever you were with Andy. Your outfits were indecent because he loved seeing as much of your skin as he possibly could. Your behavior was shameless, you showed up, you laughed, you hung onto him the entire night with the smuggest of smiles. Your willingness, especially in public, was vulgar, the way you let him touch you in front of everyone. Salacious. Indecorous. Immoral. Debauched.

These parties that he took you to were only half of it. According to his son, Jacob, Andy hadn’t been one for socializing before the divorce. He claimed that this was something new his father picked up, something that he theorized was the consequence of loneliness. You figured that you also fell under that category. These people weren’t actually his friends and you weren’t actually his girlfriend.

Andy wanted a distraction and you were just fucked up and high-maintenance enough to be perfect for the job. Getting into the swing of things had been quite the task at the start, much to your surprise. Who didn’t want a gorgeous man to spoil them? Apparently you, if your earlier behavior was any indication.

You had started this with wanting to be as professional as possible. When you had pictured how this would look, it was you listening to him speak whenever he wanted, you would respond when prompted but it would be short, succinct, and your main concern would be maintaining your physical attractiveness. You tried to think of him as your employer, you were his employee, and that meant that there needed to be respect and boundaries. You pictured a lot of pretending. Pretending to laugh, pretending to care, pretending to enjoy his company, pretending to come.

You had also thought you were going to smart. This wasn’t some stupid Lifetime movie and you had dreams and goals and if you played your cards right, this man could put you on a sure path to reaching all you had ever hoped to accomplish. At least, that was what you were telling yourself when you’d had the mental quandary: were you a prostitute?

Thankfully, both phases of resistance had been dropped—possibly around the first time he went down on you. You were no expert, but “professional” probably barred him from fucking you in about 90% of his chosen locations. And whether you were a “prostitute”, an “escort”, a “hooker”, or whatever other demeaning word anyone could come up with, was another unimportant matter. Anyone could call you anything, at the end of the day, you had money.

It was supposed to be clean, a black and white exchange where you showed up and he paid you. At any point, you could step on the brakes, he could step on the brakes—something you had once found relief in, but was now a source of insecurity, not that you would ever tell him that. He didn’t need to know about your life, what you wanted to do after school, who your friends were, your shaky relationship with your parents, the reasons why someone like you wanted to enter this relationship.

But he asked about those things because rules seemed to either not exist to him, or they just weren’t meaningful. And you hadn’t felt pressured to answer or anything, if that was the case, you would have just lied. The fact of the matter was that eventually you told him these things because you didn’t mind him knowing about your life.

He was not supposed to be kind or smart or interesting. He was not supposed to be a good guy. Clearly, he didn’t get the memo. There should be an official organization that lets men know you can’t just be perfect and spoil someone if you look anything like Andrew Barber.

It was the middle of April in Massachusetts and that meant it was still just a little too chilly for the slinky slip Andy had picked out for you, but that was what all the champagne was for. You were buzzing and it wasn’t just that you were getting drunk. Summer was approaching and he often spoke about all of the things he wanted to do with you now that you had more free time and he gave you these looks and you could just get lost in his eyes and plans even though you knew better.

You had been doing this long enough that people had finally stopped staring. The first few times Andy brought you, they were blatant and downright rude, but it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. Despite the disproportionate wealth shared amongst this group, it wasn’t too often that someone brought along a much younger woman that they were undoubtedly paying. Most of these men were married and either brought their wives along or tales of their affairs.

The rich people here treated this like an elite group, so when people like you were around, not everyone was welcoming. The other few women that had similar situations to yours were kind enough and tried to get to know you better—shared experiences create great friendships, right? Andy didn’t think so, he discouraged any type of communication and claimed that it was because they didn’t tend to stick around long. You theorized he just didn’t want you spending time with anyone that wasn’t him.

The woman across from Andy, Francesca, had been around for as long as you could remember. She had long, dark brown hair, flawless eyebrows, a great jawline, and an even greater ass. She was a few years older than him and several older than you.

You often pondered just how much more interesting than you she was. See, she had never hidden that she was attracted to him, but Andy seemed oblivious. You couldn’t tell if he actually was or was just pretending not to notice. You told yourself it was deeper than just the age, that there was another, much different reason that he wasn’t interested in her.

But, of course, you couldn’t ask. You couldn’t talk to him about other women because that was teetering on the edge of possessiveness and jealousy. Those were two of the few luxuries that you would be denied. Romance would not be found here, just a lot of mutual lust and understanding.

She laughed at something he said, pulling you back into the moment. As you sipped on your champagne, you returned to your favorite activity at these parties: people watching. You were starting to pick up on some of the drama and whatever blanks were left at the end of the nights, Andy usually filled them for you.

There were certain types of men that always bred the most scandalous scenarios. Those are the same few men that had only just recently stopped trying to buy you away from Andy by offering you more money than he was paying you. Yes, technically, that was what you were here for, but Andy was not like these men.

For starters, most everyone in attendance was a lawyer. They followed the model of: the worse the job was, the better the pay. Unlike them, Andy didn’t represent sleazy, rich rapists or murderers. That was just the start of the differences. He didn’t get so drunk that he caused a scene at these parties, he didn’t touch drugs, and he wasn’t going through some tragic midlife crisis that he was trying to placate with cars or women.

When you looked back at the pair, Andy was texting and Francesca was eyeing your hand around the glass were sipping from. She was looking at your rings—oh, your rings. You loved your rings.

Originally, you’d thought you weren’t going to ask for or accept anything stupid. You just needed your bills paid, your rent, your car. You wanted to be able to eat more than once a day. Andy quickly realized that you wouldn’t ask, if he wanted you to have something, he was just going to have to give it to you.

(On your very first date, he’d given you a diamond bracelet. You had been stunned, maybe even a little uncomfortable. It was hard to accept such expensive items from strangers. However, you did like it and wore it almost every day even though it made no sense with most of your outfits. You’d simply grown fond of it because it had come from him.)

(On the fourth date, he gave you a three-strand diamond necklace that strongly resembled a collar. You adored it, not the way you adored your rings, but it still gave you butterflies whenever he would clasp it around your neck and then kiss the skin directly under it. These were things that he’d called gifts, but you recognized them for what they actually were, signs of ownership.)

The first ring had been a reward. You’d made it through midterms, so he took you to the jewelry shop that’s on the way back to your apartment from his house. After three hours and a lot of wine—you’d needed to be drunk the first few times you knew he was spending money on you—you left with the tiara ring for your pinky finger. It was a loud piece of intricate curls on top of and underneath a row of tiny hearts. This ring was the most special, the first, you rarely ever took it off—only for school.

The second had been an apology. He’d convinced you to spend the night at his house even though he knew you really didn’t want to. He had kissed your neck and your face and had two of his fingers inside you, he had whispered all the things he still wanted to do to you that night. Around two in the morning, you’d gone to get water from the kitchen. You were in a pair of panties and one of Andy’s shirts that you didn’t bother to button up. That was how you were dressed when you met his son for the first time. Two days later, you had the butterfly ring in its spot at the base of your index finger. It was gaudy and expensive but did little to quell your anger and humiliation. You loved it, nonetheless.

The third had been an anniversary present. This relationship had reached its 100-day mark, he took you to his favorite restaurant, the same one he had taken you to for your first date. Which wasn’t romantic at all, there were a lot of terms being discussed. This time had been much different. He asked you for your hand and slipped the ring onto your third finger without a word, he merely eyed the only empty finger with the unstated promise that that finger would soon have one as well. It was this huge oval cut diamond that covered the width of your finger, atop two bands of smaller but still fairly large identically cut diamonds.

A little less than three weeks after that, it had been…well, you still weren’t quite sure what the fourth ring was. It wasn’t often that Andy didn’t drive you. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you had only one class so he would drop you off and pick you up during his lunch break so you could get coffee together. On Wednesdays and Fridays, you had more than one class so he would drop you off and he would pick you up when he got off work.

One Wednesday morning, your first class had been canceled so you ended up driving yourself. Andy took Wednesdays and Fridays as his early days off because he didn’t want you waiting in the library too long after your final class let out, so those had become the simple nights when he would come over to your apartment even though he really didn’t like it there—you figured he was struggling with the urge to buy you a much bigger apartment, one that would probably coincidentally be closer to his house as well.

You had made the plan to cook dinner that night so before heading home, you drove to the grocery store… Fortunately, no one was hurt. Unfortunately, at your place just in front of the stoplight, a car in the turn lane drove right into your car. Honestly, it wasn’t a big deal considering your life of absolute privilege and you just wanted to get the whole thing over with.

Andy wasn’t quite as level-headed. The other driver was a middle-aged man so Andy felt no reluctance in throwing a fit. You had been torn between being humiliated that he was fussing so much over you, flattered that he cared, angry that he was treating you like you were a fragile vase, or maybe just a little turned on because he was so angry.

That night, instead of your place, he took you to his house and spoiled the hell out of you. He undressed you and kissed you everywhere, he bundled you up in one of his sweaters and a throw blanket, sat you down on the bed, and made you hot chocolate. You were not allowed to lift a single finger. That was the first night you spent at his house, and since Jacob wasn’t there, Andy didn’t hesitate to fuck you for hours and make you scream as loudly as he wanted you to.

The next morning, when you woke up, the black velvet box was set on the pillow between you and him. He was propped up on the headboard with his laptop and the clock on his bedside table was saying that it was well past noon. Clearly, he decided to stay home from work and if there wasn’t jewelry in front of you, you would have given him a lecture.

It was a princess cut diamond—which he would later explain with ‘you are my princess’—with a double halo and a diamond-encrusted band. It was smaller than all the rest but somehow just went perfectly.

You weren’t bragging, at least not in a petty way. It was just that any time you noticed someone staring at your hand, you couldn’t help but try to draw more attention to it, or the other jewelry Andy showered you in.

You supposed that maybe that meant something, maybe during your little back and forth a few hours prior when he had accused you of being spoiled, he was onto something. Regardless, the only person who could be blamed for that was him.

You almost got lost in the diamonds on your hand when Andy reached out to you, pulling some hair over your shoulder. You looked up at him, he was smiling softly. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Are you ready to go?”

He really didn’t like these parties; he was always the one that wanted to leave and would slyly place the blame on you. You were tired, you weren’t feeling well, you had a tough week and you just wanted to go home. You never minded because it wasn’t as if you got anything out of these parties either, and if that was the easiest way to pull him out of there, so be it. It was Sunday anyway, he had to work tomorrow and you had to go over your weekly schedule with him before the night was over.

“Sure.”

It started as a quiet drive, just like it always did, but then he placed his hand on your thigh. You glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. He simply smirked and kept his gaze on the road. You opened your legs wide, guiding two of his fingers inside you. “Can you feel your cum in me?”

“Not enough.”

“You’re the one that made me stand for almost an hour.”

“I’ll fill you up again before you go to class tomorrow.”

You snorted. “Lucky me.”

He shot you a look. “Oh, you don’t like it?”

“Never said that.”

“Well, if you don’t, I don’t need to—”

“I was kidding,” you whined.

He gave you a look, pretending he was unconvinced. “You’ve had an attitude all night.”

“You spanked me,” you reminded. The memory, the sore feeling on your ass whenever you sat down, had kept you wet all night. “Hard.”

“You talked back.”

You had because you wanted him to spank you. The first time he had, it was quite the discovery. It was after a drink, after you were feeling a little daring. He told you no, and you really hated when he did that. You couldn’t even remember what you had said, but it was bad, it was enough to get your skirt torn down, you bent over his knee, and well, the rest was a blissful blur.

This time it was because he was in a mood. You were getting dressed and he was watching you and that always meant something. You weren’t sure what exactly, but there were a few things you picked up on with Andy. When he wanted to be in control, he didn’t necessarily just want you to submit completely. When he gave you a look, you knew that he wanted you to fight just a bit. So, he told you to wear a specific dress and you refused initially. Cue the spanking. After your whole body felt hot and flushed and your legs were shaking and your cunt was dripping, you obliged, and he was so damn smug about it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, because my fingers are inside you and you want me to make you come.”

“Well…yes.”

He laughed and you couldn’t help but smile. You loved the sound of it. Andy so rarely laughed but you took it to mean that he felt comfortable enough around you. “If you can be patient, I’ll fuck you when we get home.”

Home. His home. Whatever. “And if I can’t?”

“Then you’re going to have to wait until the morning and I might not feel like letting you come. Deal?”

You nodded. “Deal.”

But he didn’t play fair. He drove slower than usual, fingers still buried inside you, and he moved them. A lot. He tried to cover it with stupid things, like driving over a pothole or making a sharp turn. If you moved your hips once, just barely, you lost. So, you sat there, completely still, gripping the seat like it was a lifeline.

Upstairs, you waited for him to make the rounds. Jacob wasn’t there, thankfully, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been there earlier. Andy went around every door and window and made sure they were locked.

In that time, you got undressed and waited for him. You had a couple of red marks across your ass that you could see in the mirror on the opposite end of the bedroom. He always liked seeing your skin marked up in some way if he was the reason.

When he entered the room, you were sitting on the edge of the bed. “Stand up.”

You quickly did so, turning your back to him so he could see your ass. His palms lightly felt along the marked skin there. “It doesn’t hurt.”

He rarely asked, but you found that he fucked you better when he knew for sure. You just started letting him know and it seemed he trusted you enough to voice any boundaries you had if he ever crossed them.

One hand slowly trailed up your spine and slid across to your shoulder. He pressed you down quickly and you caught yourself on the mattress with both hands. You could hardly stay still as you heard his belt and zipper.

He easily pushed into you, body flush against yours. He let you adjust around him, staying perfectly still as he leaned over you and kissed your back, neck, and shoulders. Andy didn’t move until you angled your hips and pressed back a little more, whimpering nonsense.

This was so unlike the two times earlier. In the closet, after he spanked you, he sat you on top of his lap and made you ride him. At the party, in the bathroom, he stood you in front of the mirror and gently fucked you until he had filled you with his cum. This was fast, rough, and maybe a little detached if you really thought about it.

Andy took your waist in both hands and held you in place as he pounded into you relentlessly. Slapping skin, your soaking wet pussy, the bed banging against the wall on his particularly hard thrusts, these had become noises you were more than used to, noises you had grown to crave. Being with Andy was never supposed to be like this, but you didn’t have a single complaint.

You buried your face in the blankets, hands clutching tight at the sheets around you as your muffled screams filled the room. You knew he was close when his hands began to wander. One carded through your hair and pressed you down more, the other moved under you to reach your clit.

“You were such a good girl in the car.”

Your response was unintelligible, but yes. You had been more than just good. You had waited for him even though he was being a tease, and now, you wanted what he owed you. Which he didn’t deny you, not for a second.

He made you come. Once. Twice. Maybe three times. But after that, it was all just nonsense, satisfying, endless nonsense. He was still holding you by the hair, but he’d turned your head so you could breathe, and he was still circling his fingers around your clit.

Your back arched, allowing him in deeper—one of the tells of your approaching orgasm. You felt your pussy tighten around his fingers and began begging him to let you come. Even in this hazy, fucked-out state, you wanted to please him, you wanted his praise and approval.

He gave you permission like he always did and fully intended to fuck you through it. He only paused because he felt you spilling down his thighs, felt the wet sheets against his skin, heard light drops on the hardwood floor. Fuck.

He pulled you against him immediately, your sweat-slicked back to his chest. One arm draped across your chest, the opposite hand wrapped around your neck. You were watching him, eyes clear with curiosity. “You just squirted, princess.”

You blinked and attempted to voice your confusion. Problem was, his hips were still moving. You had no time to recover and there was no chance your brain had at making sense of anything in that moment.

“It was fucking hot and you’re going to do it again.”

Needless to say, you skipped classes the next day.

Andy liked to celebrate the monthly anniversaries.

He was big on creating traditions, you assumed that was just that part of him that had been hardwired to crave a normal family. He hadn’t told you much about his life and you didn’t want to pry—his dad wasn’t around and his mom had been but she died when he was pretty young. He shared this only after he asked about your parents.

The most personal he had ever gotten with you was one night when he had intended to take advantage of your drunk and thoroughly fucked state, obviously convinced that you wouldn’t remember the question in the morning. Do you believe in love?

It was weird given the setting and that you and Andy simply didn’t talk like that. It was dangerous because this could never be more than it was. You were both only allowed feelings of lust, maybe even obsession, but nothing of the usual sense. And Andy was so strict and controlled, you were surprised he would cross any sort of line.

You tried to play it off, tried to tell him that you had more important things to worry about. He didn’t like that response. He pressed because he was just like that, his career was all about pressing and sometimes, he brought it home. You ended up telling him that you viewed marriage as a waste of time. Your parents divorced, all your aunts and uncles, even the younger friends who got married out of high school were on the fast track to messy court dates and vicious custody battles. You also pointed out his situation. If someone as perfect as him couldn’t stay married, no one could.

It was then that he told you the happiest moments of his life were carving pumpkins or decorating the Christmas tree with Jacob. He had loved Valentine’s Day with Laurie, he was the one that had always insisted on doing something. He even looked forward to the smaller holidays, Independence Day, Memorial Day, any day that got Jacob out of school and him an extra day off so they could have a cookout in the backyard.

It wasn’t his intent, but it had sort of created a barrier between you two. You wished he still had his family even if that meant never meeting him. He was that kind of man, a good man, and you could tell that it weighed on him every day that he no longer had his perfect family.

He’d never pictured his life like this, a failed marriage, a child separated between his parents. He never would have entertained the idea of needing someone like you. He didn’t say that last part, but you knew. Sometimes, it was just in the way he looked at you. You feared he would grow to resent you one day, but you always tried to push that thought far away.

Regardless, the distance was there and he realized it even if he didn’t say it. There was also the matter that school had just let out meaning you had zero excuses for saying no to him when he proposed the trip to New York that would coincide with the 7-month mark of your relationship.

You’d never been and you’d always wanted to see Moulin Rouge on Broadway. He’d decided to drive to New York because you had once made the mistake of telling him you hated airports. It was a short road trip, one you weren’t entirely unwelcoming of. Especially not when he kept his hand on your thigh most of the time. It was late when you made it to the hotel and surprisingly, he had no issues with you diving straight into bed.

The morning was quite different. The hotel window had a perfect view of the city and he felt inclined to fuck you against it as soon as you both woke up. Then, he wanted to take you shopping. For nearly two entire days, he spoiled the hell out of you. Anywhere you wanted to go, he would take you. Anything you glanced at, he wanted to buy it for you.

On the night of the show, he finally took you to Victoria’s Secret. You’d seen pictures of it before, but you had not anticipated how beautiful it would look in person. You went crazy, you took him to the fitting room and tortured him on every single floor with both clothing and lingerie. Several hours had been devoted to teasing him and he let you know that after the show, you would regret your decisions.

Before you managed to get him back to the hotel so you could get ready, he needed to spend another awful amount of money on you. There was a jewelry shop just down the street from Victoria’s Secret and he couldn’t let you leave the state—as he claimed when he saw you frown—without at least one diamond.

You wanted nothing, but you knew the chances of him allowing that were nonexistent. So, you told yourself to keep it small, but one thing that had become a harsh reality since you met Andy: you were a sad, pathetic victim to larger, shinier diamonds. You immediately fell in love with a short string of sizable heart-shaped diamonds, the one larger heart dangling in the center is what had caught your eye.

Regardless of this terrible habit you had developed—this feeling that you craved, the pure joy that you got from people knowing that Andy was buying you diamonds—you tried to protest when he caught you staring. You just wanted a bracelet, really. He rarely ever gave you bracelets.

Instead, he sent you off to get coffee. You knew exactly why that was. He often got rid of you when he was about to make decisions that he knew would make you feel bad. You wanted to refuse, but what was better? Blissful ignorance or sitting there just watching him toss out the money for that necklace?

Learning what Andy liked at Starbucks had been a process. He didn’t like his coffee sweet so that eliminated 90% of the menu. His home coffee was some brand you’d never even heard of, the shops he went to were all nearly older than him. He liked cappuccinos with extra espresso, but he preferred the straightforward coffee he would get anywhere else, so he claimed. However, you knew he liked pumpkin spice lattes. You planned to prove it the day they released them for the year.

When he came out, the bag in his hand was much larger than one that would be used for just a necklace. He smiled at the horrified look you shot him and claimed that he was given a great deal for the entire set.

While you were getting ready for the show, you realized that this was the most normal you had felt with Andy in a while. There had been tension that neither of you wanted to address, but this trip was making you realize just how stupid that tension was. One day, this was going to end. It was impractical to think an arrangement like this was going to have a long shelf-life.

Shouldn’t you just enjoy it? Being here with him was fun. You liked the city and all the noise and bustle. You also liked being with him away from home and the lives you two had created long before you met one another. This was just you two, isolated together. Normally, you couldn’t ask that of him. He had his job and he was a father and you understood that completely, but you liked this.

During the show, Andy whispered to you several times. He couldn’t wait to be fucking you. He couldn’t wait to taste you. He couldn’t wait to hear you scream and cry and beg. He placed your hand over his lap just so you could feel how hard he was.

Back at the hotel, and maybe it was because of all that he had said, you didn’t want to tease. Almost immediately, you stripped completely naked—fuck all of that expensive lingerie, apparently.

He finally gave you your diamonds. He started with the necklace and you couldn’t even be upset. It fit you so well, you loved seeing it against your skin, you loved seeing how he looked at you while you were wearing it. Then, he gave you the matching bracelet. You had said you wanted a bracelet, right? You couldn’t complain. The earrings, you told yourself, were fine because you didn’t have a pair of diamond earrings yet.

You felt weighed down by these diamonds but not in a bad way. You felt tied to him, owned like you were one of his prized possessions. It was temporary, you reasoned, so was there any real harm in that? He watched you climb off the bed he had ordered you on mere minutes ago, arching an eyebrow as you lowered to your knees before him.

Andy rarely had the patience to let you go down on him, despite loving the feeling. Mostly, his main source of pleasure came from the things he could make you feel. He also couldn’t understand what you got out of letting him fuck your mouth. You weren’t much of a fan before Andy, you could admit since you had a total of zero pleasant experiences, but you felt that this was your only way of spoiling him.

It was nonnegotiable tonight, you would throw a fit if needed. You looked up at him for a moment, almost asking for permission. But not quite, maybe more for compliance. His promise was made by unzipping his pants for you and then letting his hands fall to his sides.

You took him out of his pants and opened your mouth. Staring up at him again, you took as much of him as you could. He was fine until he felt you gag, then his jaw set and his hands became fists.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

Moaning around him, you slowly pulled back. One of his hands disappeared in your hair before you could get too far. He had to keep you there for a moment, attempting to calm himself down because he could tell how much you wanted this.

He brought his hand forward, touching your cheekbone. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He slipped his fingers under your jaw and thrust his hips forward gently. He didn’t go too deep and it was at a torturous pace that he pulled out. This man’s control was one of the sexiest things about him. It made him seem so powerful and stable and that was what you craved more than anything in this world.

“Touch yourself,” he directed.

Your hand dove down, two fingers instantly burying inside your pussy. You moaned loudly around him and he cursed again.

“You want me to fuck your face?”

You nodded as well as you could.

He nodded, taking another deep breath. His hold under your face tightened just a bit, thumb and fingers pressing into your jaw. He didn’t thrust, instead, he moved you with his hand. Each time he brought you down on him, he made sure to choke you a little because he knew you liked it.

By the time he was close, your jaw was sore, made worse by his tight hold, your ribs hurt from how hard you had been gagging, the back of your throat was testament that he had lost it a couple of times, and went a bit harder than he meant to. Your entire hand was wet, your thighs shaking and your hips still rolling.

He told you to come with him, told you he wasn’t going to until you did. You pressed the heel of your palm down on your clit and fucked your hand harder. Andy brought you down as far as your throat would allow and held you there, moaning as you attempted to swallow around him.

His hand slid down to your neck and he began to squeeze when he knew you were close, hips moving fast and sloppy. You placed one hand on his thigh to keep yourself balanced, turning your gaze up to him once more.

You felt him start to spill down your throat. He moved harder, hips jerking and cock slamming into the back of your throat each time. The cum that was in your mouth was now beginning to slip out from the sides of your lips.

He pulled out before he was done, one hand in your hair to angle your head back, his other hand stroking his cock as his cum leaked out along your jaw and neck. “God damn, you are fucking gorgeous.”

You stared at him as the tip of your tongue came out to the corner of your mouth where you felt some of his cum.

Immediately, he pulled you onto your feet and shoved you back onto the bed. He was on top of you instantly, using his fingers to collect his cum off your skin so he could feed it to you. As you laid there, licking his fingers, he brought his opposite hand down to your pussy.

“I love feeling your cunt after you’ve just finished.” He teased you several times, just dipping the tips of his fingers in before he pushed two inside you.

You whimpered, lips closed around his fingers. Once he pulled them out, your mouth was free to speak, which was rarely ever a good thing when you two were in bed. “Well, are you going to get inside me, or did you need a minute?”

He arched an eyebrow—it didn’t bother him when you joked about his age, but he pretended it was grounds for true punishment. “Maybe I need several minutes, I guess I just have to keep you coming until then, huh?”

You hummed in protest.

He brought his hand up to grab your jaw, wet fingers pressing tightly into your skin. His lips hovered over yours as he asked, “You’re such a fucking brat, you know that?”

You smiled. “Yes.”

He scoffed. “You’re shameless. I don’t know how you got this bad.”

But he did know, and he would do whatever he possibly could to ensure that you would just get worse. Andy’s success was measured by your bratty episodes. It showed how comfortable you had become with him but also just how much you wanted him.

For the record, you weren’t accusing Andy of being some evil mastermind who had planned this whole…ordeal. That would be insane because it would imply a lot of things that you knew were simply not true about him. He wasn’t a bad person, he was actually one of the best that you had ever met.

But…he was a lawyer. He had picked up some bad habits that came along with that. That meant, that though he didn’t plan this, he was enjoying it thoroughly. In short, you were accusing him of being an opportunist.

The first time you met Andy, he had brought Jacob to that hellhole of a restaurant you used to work at. So, technically Jacob knew you, but he was on his phone the entire time and they were low-maintenance customers, so he’d maybe seen you for a total of 5 minutes over their 2-hour stay. Andy did come back and bring Jacob several times, but it was always the same. He never paid you any mind, and why would he?

So, when you “met” him, half-naked and covered in bruises and bites—something that still made you glare at Andy if you thought about it too much—Jacob already knew you. He just didn’t know you. And after that one encounter, you couldn’t imagine what he thought of you.

This made you realize just how worried you were about how temporary you knew you were. Andy hadn’t said anything so you wondered if Jacob just didn’t tell Laurie. You wondered if she would even care if he had told her. Maybe Andy did this all the time, maybe she just couldn’t be bothered because they weren’t married anymore. You had no idea because Andy rarely spoke to you about Jacob and never spoke about Laurie.

Your grand solution was just trying to avoid Jacob at all costs. Mostly, you were successful, and Andy didn’t seem to mind, per se, but he did not encourage it. He loved his son and he didn’t want part of his life to be completely unknown to Jacob, but you kind of did.

It was one terrible morning when you were a bit hungover from the night before and Andy was making breakfast. He’d just set down a plate of pancakes in front of you, kissed you on top of the head because you were letting him baby you, when Jacob came in, so you didn’t even have an excuse to leave. It would be pathetically clear what you were doing. Were you seriously scared of a 17-year-old boy?

Yes. But you could pretend you weren’t, and you would pretend. There was no other choice. It wasn’t until you were all sitting down for the world’s most awkward breakfast that Andy’s phone rang. He often got calls in the morning and you never minded. Until then.

You shot him a threatening look that he clearly didn’t take seriously. He excused himself and with each step further away, your desire to suddenly die increased.

There was more painfully awkward silence and you wracked your brain for ways to fix it. You could ask him about school, his plans for the day. But that was the easy part. How were you going to word the question casually, unforced? You didn’t have to think on that much longer because he decided to speak first.

“Is my dad your, like, sugar daddy?”

And before you were subjected to having to respond, his friends showed up. Which was great because you couldn’t have formed a response if your life depended on it. But that shock had well worn off by the time Andy returned. He was throwing out apologies and explaining that he was being given an update on one of his cases. He seemed unaware of your silence until he realized Jacob was gone.

“Where’s Jake?”

“He left with his friends.”

“Oh.” He sat down at the table and you glared. “Come on, I didn’t know he was going to be here—”

“He just asked me if you’re my sugar daddy!”

“Well, I am.”

“You are not.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Then what am I? I pay your bills, I buy you things, in return, you spend most of your free time with me. What does that make me?”

You were mad but not about the idea that he was your sugar daddy. Of course, you’d played with that phrase a few times, but it seemed so unrepresentative of your relationship. At least, to you. He clearly saw it that way, and maybe you weren’t even mad about that.

You might not have been mad at all, maybe just scared. You knew that Andy was in love with his ex-wife still and he always would be. She was this terrifying person that you’d never met that essentially held the cards to your life. You figured that if she expressed any anger towards Andy’s relationship with you, that you would be gone. You would have to go back to your life before, like when the carriage was a pumpkin. And the scariest part of that was not that you had no money. It was that you two would just be done as if you never even happened at all.

“Your boyfriend?” he pressed.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he warned.

“I’m going home.”

“No, you’re not.”

Once more, you rolled your eyes. You pushed away from the table and stormed out of the kitchen and to his bedroom.

He came in moments later after you had thrown his shirt on the bed. You were in nothing more than a pair of panties as you searched for where he’d tossed your clothes the night before. He shut the door and locked it, but you refused to respond to his tactics to make you talk.

“Get on the bed.”

You scoffed incredulously, turning over your shoulder to him with raised eyebrows. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

His hand wrapped around one of your arms and he spun you back to him. You set your hands on his chest to push him away, but he pulled you in so tight that you couldn’t move. He kissed you like it had been years since he last did so, in reality, it had been a little over an hour. It was demanding and fast, he left you no room to protest, but it wasn’t like that mattered because with each passing second, you were giving in.

His free hand slid down between your legs and you broke the kiss to moan. Your head fell back, your body pressed closer to him. It wasn’t a surrender exactly, just a promise that you would get over it and never bring it up again.

But then he said, “Call me daddy.”

You froze, turning your head back to him. “What?”

“Call me daddy,” he repeated. “You want to come? Tell daddy how to make you come.”

It was just a matter of time before it was brought up. Unbeknownst to him, it was on your mind. Unbeknownst to you, it was on his. He hadn’t been the kind for it, then he met you. There was something primal inside him that was triggered when you would whimper and whine, when you were choking on his cock and staring up at him with your beautiful eyes, when you were crying his name. And sometimes, it didn’t completely sound unlike daddy. When you were breathless and fucked good, and nearly mindless. Sometimes, it was close enough that it made him wonder what it would be like.

And you’d been curious too. Ever since he spanked you the first time. You saw Andy as this powerful, good man. He was perfect and didn’t even know it. But all of that was what everyone could see. There were these dark parts of him that made you wet just thinking about. You would never tell him, but once, just one time, he was busy and couldn’t see you one weekend. Meaning you had to take care of yourself. Your dreams were vivid and filthy, and you might have called him daddy in one…so, yeah.

“I’m not going to touch you if you can’t follow orders, princess.”

It took you a moment to find your voice, especially with the way he was looking down at you. “I…don’t know…” It felt weird, like you were admitting this terrible secret. You were aware he had asked you to, but it still felt wrong. Kind of.

“Well,” his fingers slid over you again, a teasing touch that was too light for any real relief, “do you want daddy’s fingers?”

You nodded.

“What about daddy’s cock?”

“Yes.”

“Or maybe daddy’s mouth?” He kissed your forehead first, then your cheek, and finally all over your neck. “Hmm?”

“Yeah, that’s what I want.”

“You know what I want,” he pointed out, pulling back to look at you. “Tell me what you want first.”

He was not letting you out of this and did you actually want him to? Andy was a complete daddy. He spoiled the hell out of, almost literally got off on taking care of you, and he was a kind, beautiful man who had no problems fucking you like he hated you.

“Will you eat my pussy, Daddy?”

Wordlessly, he sat you down on the bed and pushed you onto your back by your shoulders. His eyes on yours, he took you with his mouth over your panties and any doubts you had about this just faded away.

Your breath was shaking as he held you down, his hands gripping your arms tight. You draped your legs over his shoulders and pulled him closer. He pressed his tongue flat against you each time he licked up your aching cunt. “Oh, god,” you blurted out when you felt him at your clit.

He turned his head, nipping at your thigh. It was a prompt.

“Daddy,” you breathed, and he returned his mouth to you. “Daddy, please.”

He hummed. What are you asking for?

“Please, take them off,” you begged.

His fingers slipped under the band of your underwear and he tore them into pieces, without any skill whatsoever, as his tongue sought out bare skin. You’d heard several tears by the time his tongue was inside you.

You arched your back and grabbed a hold of his hair with both hands. He almost instantly took your hands and held them down to the bed again. “Daddy, don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please make me come.”

He pulled your clit between his lips and you knew that you weren’t going to last much longer. You knew this was your biggest loss so far. He was never going to let you forget that you’d come up here throwing a fit, trying to push him away, only to beg him to eat you out.

Your hips rolled against his face, he seemed surprised for a moment, but he moaned against you, so you kept doing it. “Can I come, Daddy? Please?”

He hummed again, a confirmation.

When you moved instead of waiting for him, you could feel his beard. That was the only reason you kept canting your hips up to meet the swipes of his tongue that were toeing the line of being too good.

He let his tongue drop down to tease your entrance, earning a frustrated whine from you. Your clit wasn’t neglected for long, you felt the tip of his nose hovering just right there. So, if you were to move, if you bucked your hips just right, you discovered quickly just how to get the right kind of pressure there.

Andy loved every second of it, he loved the smell of you and the taste of you, and he knew he was never going to be a better position to indulge in both. You were wild even though he was pinning you down, you were hardly ever this desperate, this upfront with your desire. It was the sexiest thing he ever witnessed.

You finished on his tongue and he let no drop of you go to waste. He was selfish in the way he ran his mouth along the oversensitive parts of you. Before reality had even made its way back to you, he’d placed you on your knees before him. Your body was moving without your brain, like pure instinct. Your mouth opened for him before you even knew you were on the floor and you took him in as deep as you could.

He took a handful of your hair and held you in place, hips slowly, gently moving back and forth. You were gagging around him but he was letting you get used to it, telling you that you were such a good girl, reminding you how well you knew how to suck his cock, how you’d always been so good at it.

He didn’t want to come in your mouth, he just wanted to get close. He threw you down on the bed just as soon as he’d gotten you back on your feet and then he was on top of you. His hand wrapped around your neck as he slotted his hips between your thighs.

His eyes locked on yours, he slowly sunk into you. It was damn near painful the kind of restraint he was using, how he was denying you that fast kind of fucking he knew you loved. He pulled back, using his knees for balance, and kept his hold on your throat.

His thrusts were too gentle, several agonizing times, until you were squirming and whimpering. He didn’t seem concerned with what you wanted then, he merely kept his eyes moving over your body.

“Andy,” you complained.

He tsked. “Baby girl.”

“Daddy,” you corrected instantly. “Daddy, please. I need you to fuck me.”

Instead, he leaned back down and kissed you. He started at your mouth and then moved to your jaw. His hips barely moved, just enough to keep you on this edge of murderous rage. Seriously? After what you just went through? He wasn’t going to fuck you to make it up to you?

He sat back again and tightened his hand when you opened your mouth. It was the nicest way he was ever going to tell you to shut up, but he was telling you to. You were too scared to show any signs of disobedience at this point.

He pulled out and you whined unintelligibly. You received nothing more than a brief ‘hush’ before he was laying down next to you. He was on his side, propping one of your legs over his hip as he slid back into you. He lifted you up so you could lay your head on his bicep and used that arm to grab your opposite thigh, pulling it out to the side so you were completely open for him.

“Daddy,” you mewled. You couldn’t keep doing this, you needed to come. You needed him to make you come. He dragged his cock out and then shoved back in, earning a strangled yelp from you. You brought both hands up to hold the forearm that was still pressed between your breasts.

It was then that he started this horrible pattern of fucking you hard, hard, until you were just about to come. You would be shaking, begging like you never had before, promising you would never talk back to him again, and then he would just stop.

He never denied your orgasm. If anything, he just threatened to, didn’t follow through, then made weak threats that he would next time. It was a nice routine and you weren’t sure why he wanted to ruin it.

He told you to leave your thigh where it was and then brought that hand up. He started at your mouth, he ordered you to close your lips around his fingers. He was choking you still and now gagging you and you were abruptly lightheaded. He’d never given you a safe word, you were sure he never intended to go too far. The idea that he might, though… Ugh.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth and they were soaking wet because he didn’t give you the chance to swallow. He dragged them down your body, stopping to pinch one of your nipples painfully until you gasped, and then down to your pussy.

Tears filled your eyes immediately as he pressed his fingers down on your clit. He kissed the side of your face several times before stating, “I can’t keep giving you what you want if you’re going to be such a brat, baby.”

“I’m not being a brat,” you protested.

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he scoffed. His fingers began to rub circles into you.

You shot him a desperate look. “Daddy, please I need you to make me come.”

He arched an eyebrow, hips still but hand moving. “Oh, you need me to?”

“No one else makes me come like you do.” It was clear that you were just saying anything you could think to make him give in. True? Yes. But were the words sincere? Not at all, and you didn’t want him to know that. Yes, you liked spending time with Andy, you even loved fucking him, but this was not a relationship. It was an arrangement first and you had to protect yourself.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Transparent.”

You let your head fall back into the pillow with an exaggerated sigh. “Please?”

“No.”

You looked at him instantly, eyebrows pulling together. “What?”

“No,” he repeated slowly.

He’d never just told you no. Maybe in a roundabout way, he’d talked his way through the fact of no, but never once had he just out and said it. You had no idea how to reply. After all, he was in charge here. If he said no, did you have to accept it?

He brought his fingers down to where your bodies were connected and pulled out completely. He dipped his fingers into you at the same time he was easing his cock back in.

You bit down on your lip, willing yourself to relax. He was always a tight fit, even without the addition of two of his thick fingers, even on those weeks when he fucked you every day, numerous times a day.

“You’re okay,” he promised. “You can take it.”

You tried spreading your legs even more, hoping that would make him easier to take.

“Good girl.” He pulled his cock and fingers out briefly before working them both back in simultaneously. “How’s it feel, baby?”

“It hurts a little.”

“But you can take it, can’t you?” He kissed along your cheekbone. “You want it, right? Because you’re my good girl.”

You were nodding before you even truly thought about it. You wanted anything he wanted to give you, in reality. You supposed this was not the exception to that rule.

He continued pulling out and teasing back in, going just a little deeper each time.

Your cunt was aching by the time you propped yourself up on your elbows to see. The sight of him inside you was sinful and delicious.

He felt you flutter around him and kissed the side of your face again. “You like when I stretch you out, baby?”

You nodded. That was exactly how you felt. Stretched. It still hurt but not in any kind of way that you didn’t like. Your cheeks were flushed since he’d been denying you a finish, otherwise, you would be blushing terribly. It was a toe-in-the-water of humiliation, you felt a little objectified, or reduced to a single body part. Again, not something you were opposed to because your mind was fucked up enough that your body would respond ecstatically to anything Andy wanted to do to it.

“Do you want another one?”

You weren’t sure, but that didn’t stop you from claiming you did. You watched the tip of his third finger collect the slick on the base of his cock and slide into you. He began pulling out and gently pushing both fingers and cock back in until he was buried several inches and two knuckles into your pussy.

“You are soaked, baby.”

Part of you hated that. How bratty could you be from here on out if you were this wet for him? If your cunt was literally begging him for more of his fingers? That was the pride part of you. The sick part of you stopped to think about how he had 7 more fingers to fuck you with, if he wanted. “Can I have another?”

He smirked. “I think 3 is enough tonight, princess. I don’t want to hurt you too much.”

“I want all your fingers inside me, daddy.”

He scoffed. “Not sure that’s possible, you’re still so tight. But I do have a little more I can give you.” As he pressed more of his fingers in, beyond that second knuckle which made you gasp and squirm because it burned, he also gave you more of his cock.

You were shaking, hand settling on his forearm once more. “Oh, daddy…I feel so full.”

“And your desperate cunt still wants more?”

“Anything from you, daddy. Can I please come?”

He didn’t answer, his hips merely began moving. He roughly fucked into you as he pulled just so with his fingers to keep you painfully stretched.

You were getting close again. That stinging sensation was starting to fade away with the building pleasure. When he angled his hand and let his thumb massage your clit, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “Daddy, please.”

“You can’t come.”

You whined. “Daddy!”

“I said no.”

You pressed your hand to his stomach to still his hips, but he paid you no mind. “Daddy, I’m going to come.”

“You better not,” he warned, but didn’t do anything to help you want that. If anything, his hips snapped a bit harder.

“Please stop, daddy,” you begged, voice pathetically small and whiny. You didn’t care how you sounded or looked, you just didn’t want to come without him letting you. You didn’t want to disappoint him. “Daddy, I’m close. Please stop.”

He scoffed, free hand coming up to your face. “You’re such a good girl, you know that?”

You frantically shook your head. You weren’t so good that you wouldn’t come, so really, you needed him to stop.

“You don’t want to come without my permission?”

“No, daddy.”

He pressed his thumb down harder and rubbed faster, earning an unintelligible, sad sound from you. “It’s okay, baby girl, you can come. Daddy wants to feel you coming around his cock.”

You lifted your hand back up to his arm, trying to turn into his body as much as you could. He understood immediately and moved his hold from your neck to drape his arm across you, resting his hand on your back. You set your head in the bend of his neck as you started to come.

He groaned when he felt you get tighter. “That’s it, baby. That’s what I wanna feel.”

Tears were rolling down your cheeks by the time you were coming. Your body had never felt relief so strong. Andy shushed you through it all and told you that you were so good and didn’t stop until he had you filled with his cum.

He let you settle before urging you onto your back. “You okay, baby?”

“Yes, daddy.” You were more than just okay. You were sated and aching, you were exhausted and blissful. It had been a while since he’d spent so much time on you and you felt good, doted on, paid attention to.

He carefully pulled his fingers from your cunt, eyeing your face as he did, but then quickly took your jaw in one hand and shoved the fingers into your mouth. You instantly began sucking on them. “A few things. First, you do not roll your eyes at me. Second, you do not leave the table unless I tell you that you can. Third, do not ever walk away from me. Fourth, when I tell you to get your ass on the bed, you better get your ass on the bed. Are we clear?”

You nodded, speaking around his fingers.

“Glad to hear it.” He slowly extracted his fingers, massaging your jaw with the opposite hand. “When you can walk again, I’ll take you shopping—”

You hurriedly jumped out of bed, rushing for the shower. “I’ll be ready in an hour!”

requests to be tagged:

@onetwo3000​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​

[penelopefeatherington]

BRIDGERTON EPISODE ONE SPOILERS : the first episode as we know was called DIAMOND OF THE FIRST WATER but what it should’ve been called was ARE YOU MERELY A BROTHER OR ARE YOU THE MAN OF THE HOUSE ? One of the things I immediately noticed was the fairytale feel that i hope sets the tone for the rest of the season. That & Lady W as the narrator has given me a TON of Pushing Daisies nostalgia without the murder but still with some pie. To get some of the technical stuff out of the way everything about this show is beautiful and clean & exactly how I pictured it in my head as i read the books. A true fairytale setting in each and every scene even darkened bedrooms & gardens. The first ep does a lot of introductions, which i expected.

Marina & Siena shine shine shine as characters in their own right. They’re not passive background characters they are three-dimensional women that don’t back down when the ‘main characters’ try to overshadow them & especially when they talk down to them. Marina definitely didn’t deserve to be sent to the Featherington’s ( especially the missus ) idc what she did.

One of the things I’m loving is that in the books the Bridgerton’s are this perfect family unit with Violet and Anthony politely acknowledging each other’s existence as the different heads of the house, in the show they’re still this amazing, close family unit we all love but they are giving Anthony so much more room to be the Rake you don’t get to see in TD&I. The animosity between Violet and Anthony was surprising but I think it was needed to show that Anthony struggles and deals with his role as Eldest Brother Viscount Caretaker of a Family in ways he didn’t in the books. And honestly ? It’s more believable in the show that he DOES feel this way. I don’t love that in doing so he takes away Daphne’s agency to choose who she wants to marry ( ENGAGING HER TO NIGEL BERBROOKE?? BOOK ANTHONY WOULD NEVER ) but I also feel like it really is a testament to how much all of the older three relied on Anthony growing up because Violet was pre-occupied with the youngest IN ADDITION to her grieving her husband and kind of left those four to raise themselves because they were old enough. It’s always a tough thing for oldest siblings to have to raise their younger ones & then be expected to back off when a parent finally wants to parent again & I strongly feel that’s the case here. Not that Violet isn’t a good parent, it’s just kind of reassuring to know that the aren’t perfect. Eloise Bridgerton continues to be the feminist icon that i know and love, Claudia Jessie was perfectly cast and truly stole every scene she was in with them. 

That being said I feel like I’d be remiss if i didn’t mention Colin & Pen. They have such an easy vibe together & Nicola Coughlan STANDS tf out. Every scene even when she’s in the background, I notice her reactions to things that are happening around her & it just makes SENSE ( iykyk ;) )

I hate that Philipa Featherington is so hot but all of the Featheringtons are 1) perfectly cast & 2) just as mean/indifferent/don’t pay attention to Pen as they do in the books. 

Lady W is way more of a savage than in the books.

I think that Simon & Daphne kind of got overshadowed, despite the clear chemistry that Rege & Phoebe have until the very last scene in which they are so breathtakingly beautiful together I looked like a little girl watching a princess movie. The dual scene of him finding her punch Nigel / coming up with the plan vs them dancing in front of everyone was so so charged and electric and it reminded me of WHY i liked Daphne & Simon so much in first half of the books. I loved that they were kind of picking at each other in the beginning of the episode because their friendship was again something i loved in the books. 

WAS LADY WHISTLEDOWN REVEALED? no.  SOME NOTES I TOOK DOWN : hyacinth you’re an angel never change / lady d & violet power couple / they fucked ( about anthony & simon ) / anthony you dick BEST SCENE OF THE EPISODE : A, B, C & D trying to run away from Lady Danbury & her immediately clocking that Anthony was going to be weird about people courting Daphne. Overall : 8/10

[originalcontent]

Oooookay. Welcome back. Posting about pathologic part 4 I think? Part 4. We just reached Act 4 too, so everything’s going according to schedule. This gaming session had some ups and downs. Ups: That good good lore, and a lot of quality time spent with my good pals Daniil  and Changeling and also Clara apparently, although she might not be my good pal after all, but w/e. Downs: FUuuuUUUUCKkkk we are so bad at video games, and also the kin folk have become A Lot, holy shit. Where to start.

Okay so this time the game wasn’t actually super stressful for me personally bc this time I kind of just handed off the controls to my sister every time shit got dangerous. She’s a lot better at video games than me. Shoutout @akpaley​ for keeping me from dying from stress in real life.

The drawback of this is that since she’s a lot better at video games she’s also a lot more willing to actually take risks rather than just running away from literally everything. Which I won’t deny, has gotten us a lot of much-needed money and resources but also.

WELCOME TO THE FUCKING DEATH SPIRAL PART OF THE GAME. I guess it had to happen eventually, right? Fuuuuuuuck us, do you have any fucking idea how much shit you have to redo when you’re randomly shanked by some dude every fifteen minutes? And they’re harder to fight every time we come back, apparently, and also our health is like permanently half gone? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck why are there not more clocks.

Victor Kain, you were the one who made the clocks?? I could fucking kiss you. I owe you my life. Or like, six hundred of my lives. Hhh.

Okay, seriously though, the clock lore is actually kind of sick. Victor told us that they’re smaller versions of the cathedral, and we were like “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THaT’S WHerE wE RESET THE GaME IN THe PROLOGUE!!!!!!! METAPHYSICS!!!!!!!!!” The Kains are so cool.

(Maria Kaina got infected tho. Sorry, you. :( Although technically that happens later.)

Um, we gave the rest of our shmowder to Khan. We’re out now. We’ve been looking for more but haven’t found anything.

Also we made a random potion, and the plague showed up and was like “fuck you,” and I was like “damn, calm the hell down, you’re the one fucking killing people.”

Met with the Saburovs more. They were like “we have another suspect!” and I was like “yeah they probably don’t but w/e” and my sister was like “they’re in an infected land and we should probably save their lives” and I was like “why do we care about helping the Saburovs again, literally all they do is accuse random people of killing my dad, the Kains are obviously the best family, we should just be throwing in with them” and she was like “that’s not all they do, they also run the guards, you know those guys who patrol plague districts?” and I was like “okay fuck you’re right let’s visit them” and it turns out that that there was actually some super cool lore pertaining to the town’s mistresses. Also, god if they don’t have some cool reflections. I love everything about this town’s history.

Afterwards we randomly decided to visit Yulia for literally no reason, and she was like “I’m glad you’re here, I have a lot of super heavy important shit to discuss with you about the Inquisition that will be here tomorrow, it sure is convenient that you’re in my neighborhood for some reason even though I live in an incredibly inconvenient location?” Also she knows something about the nature of Artemy, Daniil, and Clara-or maybe the Changeling but she called her Clara? Oh yeah, Daniil was there too for some reason. Poor guy, I don’t think he’s okay. He cried on my shoulder a lot, he was endearingly open and earnest and for once I felt bad about the dialogue options wherein Artemy throws shade.

And then Clara happened to be standing outside literally right then? I wonder if that was going to be a big quest location and we just happened to arrive right before the game told us to go there anyway. I think that’s it actually. We’re so good, damn. Clara keeps pulling shit and then immediately trying to reconcile and asking for help. I really like her, but we really shouldn’t be trusting her right?

Oh Murky was also there and she set up a meeting between us and her “friend” and that night we went and Clara and Changeling were both there and I’m so confused???? What is her deal? But!! Changeling facilitated a deal between me and the plague! And Murky is now off the hit list!!!!!!!!!! Does this mean she’ll live? Anyway the plague started talking to us, and our infection rose a bit in an unhealable way, and, dumbasses that we were, said “wow this is probably all just the natural consequence of the bargain we made. Guess there’s literally nothing we can do to address this.” (Spoiler: That is not the case, the cost of the pact was literally just that we became infected and would have to cure it with fire before it killed us. We figured that out eventually, I promise.)

Fast forward to the next day after we finish the day’s entire fucking plotline, when we have done literally nothing so our infection’s increased a shit ton and it starts actually killing us. And since we only have like half our potential health bar from getting killed so much, we literally can’t survive long enough to treat it. We run around trying to cure ourselves and die like ten more times before we finally accept that we just have to go back in time to before the infection was this bad, try to get cured immediately, and redo the whole day. There’s a whole fucking skeleton out by the theatre by now btw. Fucking death spirals. This play session took a long fucking time okay?

Alright, flash backward again. After talking with Changeling, we visit Stakh because after rescuing him twice in a row he promised we could talk. We go to his house and he’s sleeping, or maybe just pretending to sleep, but either way Artemy has the absolute sweetest little monologue, just talking to him, and so much has happened but I can tell there’s still a lot of tenderness there between them even if it’s buried deep, and it’s just such a soft scene against such a harsh story.

Guess who’s dead by morning.

The next day Aglaya showed up and was like “see me immediately,” so obviously we visit Capella and then town hall first off. Daniil’s there, he bitches to me about Aglaya for a bit. So cute, we really are friends. I promise to help him with corpse duty bc Capella wanted me to visit Grace anyway. We talk to the official people at the official desks, one is collecting babies, one is giving me some lunch money as a very good reward for being a very good little surgeon, and one is telling me that actually money is illegal now but here are some free coupons that actually are too cheap to buy anything with.

Aglaya is the woman from the prologue! Hhhh things are really building to a point, aren’t they. I wonder how Yulia knows her. But damn, the whole village was out there waiting to meet with her weren’t they.

I made a deal with the rat prophet to clear some space in the graveyard so Grace would be okay. Dunno what will come of that. I’ve been seeing him everywhere lately though.

I met with Oyun and gave him my dad’s house. I met with Aspity and was like “did you kill Stakh” and she gave me some vague shit, and in general I am very upset at the kinfolk right now but I tried to save them anyway. Went to the termitary and did the whole termitary thing. Wow that sure is a place, right? God, have I ever mentioned how much I love all the screaming soundtracks  in this game.

Damn, Taya’s whole child queen vibe is unsettling.

The whole termitary is horrible, and what the kin folk have been put through is horrible, but their obsession with blood and strength legit terrifies me. I’ve spent all my time until now trying to convince everyone that they aren’t bad, and that they aren’t to blame for the disease, but now they want to kill? And they really really really want me to be a killer too. And the whole thing with Taya is creepy as fuck too, she’s just a kid. Anyway, we’re sending Vlad the older to them, I don’t know whether he or his son deserves to be torn apart more, but Changeling was really upset at the idea of Vlad the younger going there, so I guess we’re backing her. We run all around town making sure the right Olgimsky is going, and then we realize we actually have a few hours left so we take a hospital shift too! And then we die of disease like six times.

Okay, flash forward again, we’ve gone back, gotten some guy to molotov cocktail us, redone the entire termitary thing, saved the game on Vlad’s clock after sending him to his doom (sorry dude). That’s where we’re at currently.

(Only it’s not actually, we went back and spent like an hour going back and forth between the termitary and Oyun again trying to deal with their shit, and everyone was like “murder all dissenters :D” and I was like “what the fuck” and the day was almost over but then a dude stabbed us and we randomly died, and none of these places had clocks, so at that point we were basically like “yeah it’s after midnight, let’s just call it quits.”)

Anything else......oh, the warehouses are at risk again. Notkin and Sticky, what would I do if anything happened to them. I hope my medicines are good enough, I gave some to Bad Grief too but now all there really is to do is wait. :(

Oh, I once again have thoughts on how fucking theatrical is it that everything in the game is simultaneously literal and metaphorical, it’s gorgeous, and have I mentioned the costuming choices for the Orderlies and the Plague, hhhhhhhh, not to say anything nice about Mark fucking Immortell, but he knows what he’s doing with this thing. Listen if this post weren’t already way too long I would just gush about the theatrical elements again, but sadly it is too long.

Okay, that was our latest session! We’ll be back either very soon or in like three weeks.

[underthedekutree]

Young Link might have PTSD - Part 2: Termina is NOT a Parallel World, Technically

This is a continuation of my last post so if you’re seeing this and haven’t read it, go here.

This is the part where I somewhat smoothly segue into Majora’s Mask. Link, lonely and filled with unprocessed trauma, leaves Hyrule in search of Navi. According to most sources (which take from Hyrule Historia probably? don’t quote me on it), Link falls down a hole into Termina, a parallel world to Hyrule, that contains many familiar looking denizens of Hyrule, but playing different roles. And well, if you probably guessed by the title, I have a rather different interpretation.

Okay, so in a nutshell my theory is that Termina is in fact all a dream, kind of like Koholint Island. Except the one dreaming up this world isn’t some deity like the Giants or Skull Kid or the Moon. It’s Link.

(big explainey hoo hah below)

Evidence 1: Link begins the game sleeping. Yes, I know literally every Zelda game begins this way and it’s a whole tradition thing. I am beginning with the weakest points first and working my way up to the strong ones. We’ll get there.

Evidence 2: The reuse of character and environment models from Ocarina of Time. The literal IRL reason for this is of course the game famously being given only one year of production time, which meant that the most practical method was to reuse as much material from MM’s predecessor as possible (eg. Romani Ranch sign is the Kakariko Village sign, and still says Kakariko Village on it). It seems like a rather offhand afterthought for Nintendo to chalk it all up to “oh its just a parallel world like Link to the Past or something. But think of it like this; when we dream, we often see familiar people from throughout our lives put in strange and unexpected situations, like that irritable old farmhand you hated so much is now a depressed circus master for some reason. Dreams don’t make sense. Things you know will mix with other strange inexplicable things, fleeting thoughts in your mind, all roughly tied together by whatever emotions you had been feeling when you went to bed. Malon is split into two people, Romani and Cremia, her older and younger self. This might reflect how Link feels about Malon, that she changed so much in those 7 years that she’s like a different person entirely, that it’s hard for him to process that they are the same, because the change was so shockingly sudden for him.

Evidence 3: Gorons in the snow, Gerudo by the sea. Yes, I know that sounds a lot like good evidence for a parallel world (that’s why the idea is widely accepted in the first place, it has merit), but it also works in as dream world evidence too. As a child, my family was obsessed with skiing. We would go to the same mountain every winter, and we would stay at the same lodge. It almost became like a second home for me. So much so, that one night I dreamed that my house had been replaced by the lodge, so it wasn’t on a snow-capped mountain, but in a bushy Australian suburb. Okay that kinda got off subject but I’m bad at conclusions so in summary Dreams Just Be Like That (tm). You get what I’m saying right? No? Sorry, let’s just move on.

Evidence 4: The Milk Bar. AKA my favourite location in the game! It’s often overlooked as the “haha funny they couldn’t put alcohol in kids game so its kiddy milk hee hee”, but it is actually a strong thematic pillar of Majora’s Mask. As I mentioned in Part 1, if you put a 9 year old in a 16 year old’s body and call him an adult before ripping that all away is probably going to leave the kid with an identity crisis. What is a mature place open at late hours when children are sleeping? A bar. What is a drink associated with the young, being produced for the purpose of helping children grow? Milk. No please don’t go I swear there’s more to this, stay with me. In order to gain access to the bar, Link must prove he is mature enough by wearing a mask, a disguise, like Adult Link is to Young Link. Being adult isn’t earned through years of natural living experience and mental development, it’s a thing you are given by adults to just BE when they deem you worthy, at least from how Link sees it. So that is the amalgamation of dream thoughts that is the Milk Bar. Is it mature? Is it childish? What is the line between the two? Is there one? It’s the culmination of his anxieties and confusions that he doesn’t know how to express. Another, smaller expression of this anxiety is the Clock Town Guards. When Link is a Deku, the guards say they don’t allow children outside the gates. When Link turns back however, the guard goes to stop him because he looks too young, but sees that he has a sword, and lets him pass. Why the sword? Well, in one way this is a callback to Kokiri Forest, where Mido doesn’t let Link see the Deku Tree until he has a sword. But also, what is the item that lets Link travel through time and become an adult in OOT? The Master Sword. Link seems to believe that adulthood is measured by the things you have, physical markers of maturity, which is how lots of children see adulthood. You’re an adult if you can drink, if you’re tall, if you’re married, if you have a house, a car etc. But in reality this isn’t how it works. Heck, I’m technically an adult but I sure as hell don’t feel like one, because I know I still have things to learn about responsibility, patience and all the other things, that can only come with time, which is the moral conclusion of OOT, but clearly Link missed the memo. Don’t get me wrong, there are some indicators to show he’s grown a bit. He can ride Epona, use the bow, do flips like some kind of acrobat etc. But those strange and confused feelings linger, and manifest in the young boy’s dreams.

Evidence 5: The four transformation masks. The four masks represent different aspects of Link’s self, and the way he grew and changed in OOT. Deku Scrub the Innocent, Goron the Confident, Zora the Mature and Fierce Deity the Hero. Link began only knowing the Kokiri Forest, and nothing of the world outside. As he set out on his journey, he grew more confident in his skills and defeated greater foes. When evil took over, he learned from his fatal mistake and worked to right it. And when it was finally time to face the greatest threat, he was ready, with all the heart pieces, bottles full of fairies, Biggoron Sword in hand. At that moment he struck the final blow he probably felt like the strong and unstoppable hero everyone in Hyrule told him he needed to be. And that feeling of pure uncompromising strength, with the whole world behind him, manifested in the Fierce Deity. Fierce Deity is much taller than Adult Link, and packs so much of a punch that he can beat Majora without batting an eye, like some overpowered Super Saiyan. It reminds me a lot of Undertale, with young Asriel becoming what he imagines to be an all-powerful godlike being, like something you’d see as a children’s drawing. Fierce Deity gives off those vibes, like “he has a HUGE SWORD that SHOOTS BEAMS OF LIGHT and he’s 8 FOOT TALL and CAN KILL ENEMIES IN A SINGLE BLOW!!” Before the final battle on the moon, when Majora gives you the mask, he childishly asks if you want to play a game of good guys and bad guys. And the good guy always wins, no matter what. Fierce Deity makes the final boss a cakewalk, but its supposed to.

Evidence 6: Anju and Kafei. Short one, because it falls a lot into everything else I’ve said regarding childhood vs adulthood. Kafei is effectively a switcheroo of what happened to Link in OOT. An adult shrunk back to childhood, uncomfortable in his new body and looking for a way to fix everything. He’s a reflection of how Link now kinda feels like an adult in a child’s body, because he had started to be used to being called an adult.

Evidence 7: The Moon. I haven’t super touched on the main meat of the game yet, so here it is. The moon and the 3 day mechanic is an allegory for constant mounting pressure, that builds and builds, never ceasing, because the world is in danger, and there’s only one person who has been chosen to save it. I’ve always been interested in the Chosen One narrative, and how different media explore the idea of the world’s very existence being pushed onto one person. How at the end of it all, they can never be the same again after all they’ve gone through. When you’re somehow expected to hold up the Moon itself single-handed, and your life and everything you care about suffers because you’re putting everyone else before yourself. That feeling of complete loneliness under a crushing weight, and although other characters may come to help you, in the end its still all down to you, and you never had a choice in any of it, as all the decisions were made by someone else. You must do what they tell you. Believe in yourself, believe...

Evidence 8: Skull Kid. The story goes that long ago in Termina, the Skull Kid and the Giants played together, until one day, the Giants left, leaving the Skull Kid alone and heartbroken, with nobody to turn to. As life moves on, things may change, and people always come and go from your life. Your friend might move overseas, or stop texting you, or you might fall out of friendship after an awkward event from which you could never recover (no, these have totally not all happened to me, shut up i’m fine), or your fairy companion might just disappear without so much as a goodbye after their task is complete. And it feels like you didn’t matter at all. That they never really cared about you, and you’re as easy to drop and move on from as a child’s toy. You might get angry, and want to shut them out, and give them a taste of their own medicine. Majora’s Mask teaches you that this isn’t the case. Life is ever changing, but you will always have the memories of times with your friends, and a chance to make more with new friends, like a sassy talkative fairy sprite and her shy brother or a child made of wood who wants to destroy the world. Friends come from unlikely places, so accept that change will happen and hope that wherever the people you knew are, they’re okay. You’re thinking about them, so they might be thinking about you too. And who knows? Life is unpredictable. They might just come back one day, and it’ll be like they were never gone.

Evidence 9 (the final one, I promise): The Song of Healing. At the end of all things, after losing ones you love, connections to family and friends, memories of things long past... you need time to heal. Link’s journey through Termina is a constant gauntlet of running into his own past traumas, forced to relive them again, and again, and again. But sometimes you should take a deep breath, gather your thoughts, and take time to heal. Although it can be important to confront your fears and learn to surpass them, it is exhausting, and you can end up more emotionally broken than when you started. The three masks all had regrets of powerlessness; unable to protect your community, your loved ones, or even yourself. Troubles you’ve gone through that keep plaguing your mind, and you’re wondering if you’ve done enough, seeking answers where none can be found. And the best thing you can do... is accept and move on. Be kind to yourself, and give yourself time to heal. Link’s way of processing his grief and trauma is to create an entire hellscape world in his own head, but not everyone processes it the same way. Sometimes you feel like you need to busy yourself, or listen to soothing music, or talk to people you trust, or spend copious amounts of money, or make some angst art, or cuddle your plush toys until their stuffing squeezes out. Sometimes life hits you in the face and you want to blame yourself for standing in the firing line, but it’s not your fault. It’s okay to feel however you feel, whether you’re drenched in a pool of tears or you just feel numb, it’s okay and natural. You’re okay. You’re here.

Okay so it got kinda personal at the end there but I hope it was informative, and made you think a little bit differently about Majora’s Mask and Ocarina of Time. You probably want to go back and play them now. Me too.

So was this all just an excuse for me to gush about how cool Majora’s Mask is? Hell fucking yes it was. Congratulations for making it through my monstrous ramblings, you get the secret prize of looking at my weird art on my DA. Here you go. Have a nice day, Zelda Nerds.

[gwoongi]

(abandoned) i don��t want it at all

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: sugar baby au, sugar-babies-scamming-the-same-daddy-au rating: mature themes words: 2.3k warnings: sugar babies a/n: i would have liked 2 finish this one and maybe i will one day but for now here is the incomplete first draft that makes me laugh still

His dorm for first year had been a prison-cell-box with a broken window and bunk beds, the stale smell of farts from his roommate who insisted on top-bunk and made his evenings and early mornings absolute hell- but hey, he’s getting a fancy degree at the end, so it’s worth it, right? Jeongguk’s not sure if it’s worth it anymore.

(1)

Jeongguk was broke.

It was his own fault - that’s the price you pay for enrolling in University, studying something he probably doesn’t actually need but loves. It’s all fine and dandy studying Music until he realises that famous musicians don’t become famous because they got a degree. Ask any musician how they made it big and they’ll reply with good luck and hard work, not some fancy degree that means nothing unless you’ve got the talent to be successful. Well shit, now it’s in perspective, Jeongguk’s spending all this money on a degree that’s probably not going to make a difference when the time comes.

Now he has a part-time job at a random pizza takeaway that makes no money because Dominoes opened up across the street a few weeks ago, and he’s barely making enough to buy him more than two packets of instant noodles at a time. His dorm for first year had been a prison-cell-box with a broken window and bunk beds, the stale smell of farts from his roommate who insisted on top-bunk and made his evenings and early mornings absolute hell- but hey, he’s getting a fancy degree at the end, so it’s worth it, right? Jeongguk’s not sure if it’s worth it anymore.

This evening, the library is fairly quiet. Across the stacks are small candles inside black lanterns, a Harry Potter-esque vibe filling the room as the clock rolls into ten. Jeongguk loves when the school year ends, because for the past week, it’s only been the sad and broke music kids doing exams, meaning the library is virtually empty now that everybody else has finished up. Jeongguk’s last exam was yesterday. Huffing out a sigh that turns one of the only other heads in the library in his direction, he stretches his arms up over his head and arches his head backwards.

“Where’re you going over summer?”

Yoongi is another sad and broke music student, a third-going-fourth year who met Jeongguk in the music society during Jeongguk’s first weekend at University. Leaning his chair back on two legs, he throws a paper ball into the air and catches it, not even looking at Jeongguk as he talks to him.

Jeongguk shrugs in reply, tapping his nails against his laptop. “Dunno. Home, I guess.”

“Any plans?” Yoongi asks. “Wanna go to Lollapalooza?”

“Can’t afford it,” Jeongguk sighs, as Yoongi forces out a, “me neither” in between a chortled laugh. “And I don’t know. Probably going to have to get another job.”

“Good,” replies Yoongi, yawning loudly. “You can’t keep working at that shithole. I’m your only friend, and even I go to Dominoes instead of where you work.” As an afterthought, he looks at Jeongguk with a small frown, “sorry.”

Shaking his head in reply, Jeongguk slumps in his chair and sighs once again. Yoongi’s just suddenly put it all into perspective for him; Yoongi’s his only friend, he works a job that barely puts a meal onto his plate, and it’s not going to get any easier. 

The ball in Yoongi’s hand begins to bounce again and Jeongguk glances over at the student librarian, who buries her head into the crook of her elbow and sleeps her way through her night-shift. It’s only Jeongguk, Yoongi and four others in the library right now; none of them are reading, none of them are doing anything particularly productive. Two students are tucked into an alcove pouring wine quite openly into small glasses with a board of chess unfolded out on the table, the others on computers, wishing the night away. Jeongguk just doesn’t want to go back to his dorm, to where his roommate and his loaded to the brim stomach of Chinese food and unhealthy diets is waiting for him.

“You planning on staying here all night again?” questions Yoongi. He probs his feet up onto the partitioner under the table, accidentally kicking Jeongguk’s ankle in the process. “Sorry,” he adds.

“Yep,” Jeongguk replies, popping the ‘p’. “I’d literally rather sleep on the boys changing room floors than go back to my dorm.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “That’s disgusting, don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m being deadass,” Jeongguk insists, his eyes blown wide. “Want to swap dorms for the night? Ten dollars and you’ll be dry heaving in the hallway before midnight.”

“I’ll pass. Either way, you know my apartment is always open for you,” Yoongi reminds him. “You’ve got a key. Come by once you’ve finished whatever it is you’re doing. My wifi’s out.”

Another sigh. Jeongguk’s not defeated his boredom yet, the twitch in his fingers to do something still there. If he goes to Yoongi’s apartment now, he’ll just annoy him with the need to do something energetic, and Jeongguk knows best that Yoongi values his quiet time on an evening.

“Okay. Well, I’ll stay here for a little bit, and come by when I’m done,” Jeongguk says, stifling a yawn that would otherwise expose the fact that he’s absolutely knackered. “I won’t make a sound.”

“You will, you always do, I just pretend not to notice because I love you.” Yoongi says I love you with a disgusted face, sticking his tongue out with a fake gag that Jeongguk knows just proves how much he cares. Yoongi’s good like that, the more subtle type of loving older brother that Jeongguk’s been deprived of all his life. “Don’t stay out too late.”

“Won’t.”

Yoongi picks himself up and irons the aches out of his shoulders. “Cool. Stay safe and smart, Guk.”

“I can’t do both,” he sighs sadly, and Yoongi collects his bag and affectionately throws the paper ball at Jeongguk’s head. It bounces off and lands near one of the bookshelves. Neither picks it up, and Yoongi leaves the library. It dawns on Jeongguk three minutes after Yoongi leaves him that he’s actually really fucking lonely. Add that to the big long list of things Jeongguk is this year: friendless, broke, sad and lonely. God, he needs a hobby.

He also needs money. Very badly. After opening his phone and banking app and realising that he’s so close to slipping into the red, Jeongguk refrains from spending what he has left on something fried and takeaway and opens Google. One click, a few types: How to make money fast. Google will know what to do.

Jeongguk scrolls. Take online surveys and get paid NOW! No. Review apps and earn money! Not enough phone memory to download an app to review it, he scrolls down. Lonely AND Horny? Get yourself a Sugar Daddy TODAY! Oh? He’s listening.

The blog that opens up as he clicks the link is somebody’s personal blog, the title in a gross and thick font that Jeongguk almost can’t read. They talk a while about why you shouldn’t become a sugar-baby, but Jeongguk remembers that one time Tana Mongeau did a storytime on how she had a Daddy and got a lot of money, and Jeongguk’s got assets. He’s smart, has abs on a good day, and his dick isn’t half bad looking. That’s what Yooa had said to him, anyway. Finally, there’s a hyperlink to Seeking Arrangements, and Jeongguk feels kind of overwhelmed.

At least once in their lives, everybody’s thought about being a Sugar Baby. Jeongguk definitely has, all the damn time when he’s sitting around at work doing nothing because they’re about as busy as one can expect for a pizza place with two stars and a rival Dominoes parallel from the front. He’s even read about experiences, where people meet their daddies or mommies on the streets or through apps- and there was even that one crazy story about somebody’s Principal becoming their sugar Daddy, or something, he can’t quite remember. Regardless, Jeongguk’s entertained this thought before.

He looks down at himself. If he really tried his best, he could be kind of good at it. Without sounding conceited, Jeongguk’s good looking. What lets him down at school is the fact that he always dresses lazily and ignores people, rejects requests to go out and then complains to Yoongi about not having friends who hang out with him. All he needs is to fix his appearance, upload his best photographs, and he could secure the bag quite easily.

Jeongguk fills in the boxes and makes an account. petkoo is what he decides to name himself, and he picks his best selfie off Instagram as an icon. He leans back, as if a look from far away will change the way it looks. It’ll do. Luckily for him, he’s into men and women, and it just so happens that American men are both the dumbest and easiest to please. Suddenly, he’s excited, his leg bouncing under the table until he hits his knee and stops. The student librarian raises her head quickly, afraid that a member of staff’s come in to supervise. They haven’t, and so she drops her head again. Ten fifty three, ish. Jeongguk blinks sleepily.

All that’s left to do is get his account verified, and life will be forever changed.

(He hopes).

(2)

Yoongi’s apartment is off campus, about fifteen minutes away if he’s walking. It’s small, but significantly bigger than Jeongguk’s dorm on campus, and decorated with whites and creams, big and open windows letting in golden light, when the time’s right. It’s the type of apartment you saw online, on Tumblr posts or in movies, looking like a perfect backdrop - sometimes, Jeongguk can’t believe that Yoongi lives here, and wakes up every morning to the view of the city below his window, power lines like train tracks connecting houses, dangling fairy-lights on the trelacing of his across-the-street-neighbour’s rooftop.

That being said, Jeongguk technically lives here, too. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s actually stepped foot in his dorm at the same time as his roommate; he only goes in there to collect things one at a time. Today, for example, he had dropped by to empty out his small and pathetic wardrobe and put it inside one suitcase, wheeling it right up to Yoongi’s front door with a bright smile that Yoongi couldn’t say no to. His couch in the living room was Jeongguk’s comfortable bed when it wasn’t cold and when it was, Yoongi would huff and offer an invite into his bed, because he loves Jeongguk like he’s his baby brother, and it would suck if he died from pneumonia, or something. He said that to Jeongguk once. Jeongguk smiled for ten minutes afterwards.

Harry Potter plays on TV, the fourth movie because it’s Jeongguk’s favourite and Yoongi’s a sick man who can’t say no. It’s around five, and Jeongguk’s literally been holed up in Yoongi’s apartment the entire day. The most sunlight that he got was when he walked out of Yoongi’s house to take the trash out, and even then, the bin was in the shadows and the sun never touched his skin once. He can see the sunlight through the window, which technically counts. Yoongi cringes and takes away a plate from the coffee table.

“You’re allowed to stay at my place, as long as you clean up after yourself,” he says with a huff. His nose upturns with a scrunch, “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“By choice!” Jeongguk adds, pulling a thread out from his sock. “They’re too much hard work.”

“You’re just fucking lazy,” Yoongi points out. He dumps the plate in the sink and comes back to Jeongguk. “You know that, don’t you?”

There’s a silence. Then a sigh, “Yeah.”

Jeongguk loves staying at Yoongi’s place, especially when Yoongi is feeling particularly soft and lets Jeongguk do whatever he wants, given he’s not going to get Yoongi a noise complaint in the morning. The movie continues to play undisturbed, the sight of Beauxbatons’ carriage swooping over towards the runway leaving Jeongguk with an open-mouthed smile on his face and Yoongi folds his arms, burying himself further into the sofa. On the coffee table, Yoongi’s laid out some snacks, both his phone and Jeongguk’s laying down flat because it’s supposed to keep Jeongguk distraction free, even though he’s the type of friend to never be on his phone around his friends unless he absolutely needs to be.

Another huff is in Yoongi’s mouth, begging to be huffed out. Over on the coffee table, Jeongguk’s phone lights up with his lock screen of Sansa Stark blurred out by a notification, the ringer on loud. Attention is pulled from Dumbledore to the light, Jeongguk’s brows lifting with interest but his eyes immediately back on the TV.

“Yoongi,” he calls out, and Yoongi glances over, “can you see who it’s from?” Could be his Mom, it could be important.

The huff is released. “Come into my house and boss me around…” Yoongi mutters under his breath and reaches for Jeongguk’s phone, pressing the home button to read the notification. He’s silent for a long moment, and Jeongguk’s so enthralled in the movie that he doesn’t notice, not until Yoongi looks at Jeongguk with a confused and funny look, his top lip curled to his nostrils as he blurts: “Why the hell are Seeking Arrangements telling you you’re profile’s ready?”

Jeongguk looks away so fast from the television that Yoongi’s almost frightened. His eyes are wide and twinkling, “They’ve finished it?”

“What the fuck.”

“Gimme!” Jeongguk splutters, his hand diving towards his phone urgently. “Bro...it’s been like, five days.”

Yoongi is bewildered. “Why do you have an account? What-why-when…?”

“I don’t know, I need money and I thought it would be funny,” Jeongguk shrugs. His thumb moves quickly across his phone screen. “I can’t believe they’re done. I’m gonna be rich, Yoongi.”

“Do you know how sketchy half the people on that site are?” Yoongi questions. “Plus they’re all old and perverted men.”

“Rich men.”

“Rich, old and perverted,” Yoongi nods. “Guk, I know I said you needed another job...but this doesn’t qualify. I’d rather you flip paper thin pizzas.”

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

Do you think quintessence exposure prolonged Allura’s life and she would’ve lived an unnaturally long life for even an Altean if she’d lived? I think about this question a lot because this girl got blasted by and was exposed to insane amounts of it.

Hi, asennnaa. Ah, those are good questions! I’m not sure I have a perfect answer because I’m still grappling with how to handle some of the holes or contradictions in this show. I do think VLD’s entire universe confirms that infusions of quintessence into a body, as you suggest, can unnaturally prolong a life. But what counts as “enough” quintessence exposure to really make one immortal? Just “how immortal” can Allura get? Because other characters are shown to require multiple infusions of quintessence in order to remain even marginally immortal.

It looks like Zarkon was still aging, even with quintessence infusion. Here is a fresh Zark:

And here he is again ~10,000 years later with the wrinkly lips, sunken-in cheeks, and big eye baggies that are all standard signs of aging.

Old zarkturtle status achieved.

So despite standard access to quintessence infusions, and even being overcome with quintessence in the rift itself, both he and Haggar seem like they’re fighting a battle with the clock and still losing. Could their lack of immortality and constant need to infuse with quintessence be because they were accosted by rift creatures (so not experiencing “pure” quintessence infusion in the rift)? I suppose it’s possible.

And a lack of ongoing access to pure quintessence might also be part of the entire Galra Empire’s continuous desire to get to purer and larger amounts of quintessence. Because it’s not just power on the line.

Zarkon himself confirms what he hopes to achieve through quintessence in s3:

Desire for immortality is a huge motivator for the entire empire harvesting quintessence in the first place. Zarkon wants to live forever with his friends and family. But oh nu, he’s still aging. And even Lotor?? What is ten or one-hundred-thousand years in the face of a universe that is billions of years old? Is anyone technically immortal in this show? How long can anyone actually live?

An “imperfect-immortality” would also explain the strange reality of Lotor. He is a beautiful boi and is also 10,000 years old as well. Executive Producers Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos suggest in a Season 5 AfterbuzzTV interview that Lotor’s infusion with quintessence in utero results in him aging very, very slowly.

(Here’s the dialogue from the interview if you want it, from around the 13:30 mark:

JDS: It’s pretty safe to say that Lotor’s kind got that Daywalker kind of thing going on.

Interview: —Little vampire—

LM: Being in…in her womb, as [Honerva] was being exposed to all of this quintessence—it’s part of his DNA. It almost puts him on a level with Allura, pretty much who her quintessence is a part of her DNA. So it’s interesting to see.

JDS: And it’s allowed him to stay so beautifully young.

LM: He’s aged at a much slower rate than your average Galra.

Interviewer: So he IS a vampire.

LM: I think all Galra are kinda space vampires.

JDS: They’re kinda space vampires, yeah. Safe to say. You’re getting instead of blood, you’re getting like…planet juice.)

And it just so happens that, in the active plot of VLD, we’re introduced to Lotor at a point in time where he’s aged physically and mentally to the point of, what, maybe early twenties? The canon’s not clear about it. Despite the lack of a canon-backed “mental-to-physical human-age equivalent,” Lotor appears to careen between a tricky mastermind and a boi who’s still a bit embarrassed about his nanny:

(While I tend to think he’s early 20s in physical and mental agility, you could probably even argue Lotor acts like an older teenager still sometimes, lol. Quality eye-roll and pout right here. Does anyone else get, “Mom, shut up” vibes from this gif? And even his idealism, his unshakable belief that simply giving the empire what it wants will result in peace--it lacks a critical foresight about other people experiencing quintessence madness, dangers from within the rift, and the inevitable wars to “control the gates” and such technology. And there’s some things to be said about humans obtaining full brain development around age 25, as the prefrontal cortex, which inhibits impulses and assists with critical decision-making, is the last section to develop in full. So it makes me think, for all his intelligence and schemes, that he’s mentally a bit younger than he’d like to appear. And obviously doesn’t want to appear, considering how embarrassed he is about his nanny in front of his new-found friends, lol.)

But I digress. So just based on the evidence and the extra-canon commentary from EPs, it seems that if we panned out 20,000 years in the future, we might see a significantly aged Lotor, with the deep face lines and lip wrinkles and gaunt cheeks. Because he’s never stopped aging. His body clock is just totally and utterly creeping along, lucky boy.

If you want to trust the extra-canon text, then you might be able to extrapolate that like Lotor’s DNA, Allura’s DNA gives her an extended life. Although unlike slow-age Lotor, Allura appears to have had a more accelerated childhood. She can’t be more than Kova’s 28 decaphoebs (years), given that the season 3 finale shows Allura was born after Kova’s introduction. And yet, unlike Lotor’s strange history of taking forever to grow up, Allura presents as physically mature within a fairly normal timeline.

This would actually suggest that something is a bit weird about Allura’s DNA. And its something that makes her quintessence more intense than even Lotor’s own quintessence signature, if you want to go by the interviews where LM says, “It almost puts him on a level with Allura.”  

So what was this mysterious event?

Allura certainly could still infuse herself or be infused with quintessence to prolong her life, but that wouldn’t prolong her life indefinitely or put her even within range of what’s naturally going on with Lotor’s DNA.

Is there something inherently unique about Allura’s lineage or species, then, that could answer this?

Let’s look at Alteans first. The canon seems oddly contradictory about the natural age of Alteans. Coran is at least 600 years old because he was alive with the Castle of Lions was being built. But yet executive producer LM states that there’s something inherent in Allura’s DNA that makes her even more special than the average person, and even more strangely…Allura’s father, Alfor, doesn’t seem to fall into either of these two categories.

??

Despite Alfor understanding the deep secrets of the universe via Oriande, and having personal direct exposure with unlimited pure quintessence through building and even fighting in Voltron, he ages. Hard.

Here’s Alfor as a young man:

Here’s Alfor, only decaphoebs later, not long before he died.

So here we have an aging Alfor. And oof, in less than 28 decaphoebs, with no explanation as to why Coran would be doing so well in comparison. (Feel free to speculate!)

So whatever is wrong with Alfor’s life cycle, it would seem to be an isolated incident that not even exposure to Voltron or to the rift could undo. In which case, it’s hard to know if Allura’s DNA would naturally have the same weaknesses from her lineage. If not, then she should at least be able to reach 1,000 years naturally, if the spunky Coran is any measure to go by.

But Alfor did do something that I think places Allura as entirely unnatural and probably the most likely candidate to have a form of true immortality in this entire show:

So right in season 1, episode 1, Coran admits that Alfor has done some pretty wild alchemy. He physically connected Allura’s essence with the essence of Voltron—the single source of self-regenerating, infinite quintessence throughout the whole of the entire universe.

I’m not sure if this alchemical forge-bond would protect Allura from physically aging, but it would suggest that Voltron’s life force and Allura’s life force are intimately tied on the material plane. There is no other canonically shown bond like this in a living person, in the VLD universe. It makes Allura entirely unique as a character and likely helps to explain why she is so consistently over-powered compared to even Haggar/Honerva.

Because unlike ANY other Altean, including Honerva, Allura has an infinite, massive battery of pure quintessence to pull from at will. And it’s tied to her very life force.

I don’t know if a person’s life force being personally connected to Voltron would confer physical immortality, but I do think there’s a lot of evidence to suggest that as long as Voltron exists, Allura’s essence would be preserved within it. And as we saw in season 6, Shiro was capable of interacting with other paladins despite his physical death, because Black Lion had preserved his essence.

So I guess all of this is to say, it seems there would be a lot of reasons for why Allura could live a very long life. It does seem that if she infused herself with quintessence in an ongoing fashion, and she quite often has, then her already long Altean lifespan would become longer. And even in physical death, Allura could still “exist” like s6 Shiro to communicate and interact with the living, in a way that not even her father could.

(Which makes you wonder about that s8 ending with the Lions mysteriously flying off for an unknown reason and Lance’s Altean marks lighting up like a homing beacon, but oof, that’s perhaps another topic.)

Thank you so much for the ask! I hope my winding ramblings help to answer your question or encourage further thought about the possibilities!

[kittyboones]

Title: Puppy Eyes - Welcome To B/ullworth, Kitty

Relationship(s): Kitty Drage (C/CE S/I) & G/ary S/mith

Notes: hi i came up with this story like a year ago, when i was really into bully, and now i remembered how cute gary was and hhrn :] anyways, i have like 50 or so chapters in the drafts, so uhm yeah, hopefully i will remember to write those and post them onto here! i also am posting this on my ao3 and wattpad, teehee

Kitty Drage was looking out of the window as the car they were currently seated in drove past houses and buildings in the town of Worcester. Kitty was supposed to be living in Worcester with their aunt and uncle, plus their 4 older cousins. They were going to enroll at the private school that was in the next town over, but since where Kitty's aunt and uncle lived in Worcester, which was in close proximity to their school, Kitty's parents agreed to let them stay there until the end of Kitty's enrollment at what Kitty would consider their new school for a while.

Soon the car came to an end and both their parents got out of the car, leaving Kitty alone before they decided to get out as well, looking at their parents. Their mother gave them a light smile and waved them over to kiss them goodbye. A slight red lipstick was left on their forehead and their mother quickly laughed before wiping it away. Their aunt, Joni, raised her hand, giving a small wave before commenting that how Kitty was bigger than they were last time she had seen them.

«Come on darling, we don't have much time, I promised I would have you at Bullworth by 12 so you could get lots of time to unpack, meet your roommates and even get to your last class, or technically first.» Joni waved Kitty over to follow her to the car and Kity jogged over to her. Joni went and opened the car, letting Kitty take a seat in the Toyota Camry.     Kitty took in the sights of the town of Bullworth. It seemed like a busy town where lots of people knew of each other and know where every store and house was. People were walking through the streets.

«Kitty, why are you so quiet? You okay back there?» Kitty turned away from the window and towards aunt Joni. Kitty let out a sigh. They were excited, they didn't miss anyone from Norway, but many thoughts ran through their head. What if people were nasty to them? What if they got bullied for their voice and how they would pronounce certain words? What if they looked weird compared to American students? They shook their head before answering.   «I'm alright, just a bit tired.»

The rest of the car ride was silent and soon Kitty got out of the vehicle and grabbed their bag. «Do you want me to come with you in to the school? Help you with getting your things inside?» Kitty jolted up from their seat and shook their head quickly, before stepping away from the car and said their goodbyes to their aunt, who was driving by slowly, waving to them with a bit too much excitement.

At a quick pace, Kitty was walking through the gates of the academy and towards the center of the paths to what they assumed were the dorms, on each side of the path. Not that far away from them, a small group of boys was harassing a boy.

Seeing how the boy was being pushed around, which looked to be a quite annoying experience for the male, gave Kitty a dose of bravery and confidence, making them walk towards the boys. «Hey, leave him be.» They told, making direct eye contact with 2 of them.

«Oh look, the psychopath has a girlfriend.» One of them spoke, making Kitty feel a strange bit annoyed and furious. Not only was it because they didn't know the 'psychopath' in question, but they were bringing them into this. The two boys were still bothering the annoyed make and messed up his hair. «I said leave him be. Or, I uh, or I'll get an adult. Or I will fight you!» The two boys laughed, Kitty, standing their ground as they gave their best glare.

One of the boys walked towards them and they gulped for air, their knees shaking underneath them. Without thinking, Kitty started running towards him, ready to pounce onto him, like an excited pet, the difference between Kitty and an excited pet is that Kitty was far from excited and acting out of sheer fear.

Only a few inches away from the male, and he raised his fist, and it hit Kitty directly in the face, making them groan in pain, their body falling back onto the ground. Everything blacked and spun, making Kitty feel nauseous. The last thing they were able to see before they drifted off was the same guy who was getting pushed around getting pushed one last time before he made his way towards Kitty.

... (one hour later) ...

Kitty's eyelids flitted open, and they sat up. They soon realized how much of a headache they had, and they weren't on the ground anymore. They were instead lying on a bed, in what they could assume was a boy's dorm, based on how messy it was.  «So, you were the kid who distracted Russell's morons and got knocked out as quickly as you ran towards them. Impressive.»

Kitty jumped up in fear after hearing the voice and fell onto the floor. They got up and looked at where the voice came from, seeing a teen boy. maybe about 16 or 17, leaning on the doorframe. He had his hair parted to the left, his skin had a bit of acne, brown eyes, and a scar over his right eye. Kitty thought they even saw a mole or two on the right side of his face. Kitty wouldn't say he was the most attractive, but they weren't one to comment on such.

Kitty gave a slow nod to the male, unsure how to reply. They kept their gaze upon him, not knowing whether to look around the room they were currently in or to keep staring at him. «So, you're the new kid.» Kitty blinked for a few seconds and Tilted their head, an expression of confusion on their face. «Uh, I guess I am.. How did you know?»

The male let out a small laugh and smiled in their direction. Kitty felt a bit unsettled but listened anyway. «Haven't seen you in Bullworth before, so I just assumed. I could also assume you are the pathetic cousin of the prep chick from the town over. Been hearing so much about how the Helanie Kingham's pathetic cousin who was sent to Bullworth, and you seem to fit the bill.»

Pathetic cousin? The Nordmann let out a sigh and looked down. Kitty nodded slowly, before looking back at the stranger. He was trying to not let out a loud laugh. «You can laugh if you really think it's that funny. Selvsagt så ville Helanie kalt meg patetisk..»

Kitty looked around the room for a clock or anything that could indicate what time it could be. They turned to the stranger and decided to continue the chat. «Look, I uhh gotta get to my class, so if you could tell me where an office or anything is, I would really appreciate it.»

«Classes are done for the day. You got soo knocked out that you missed the last period.» He had answered nonchalantly and Kitty reacted by blinking a few times. Panic set in they got up, walking back and forth around the room, trying their best to ignore the headache they had.

     «What?! How long was I knocked out for? And why am I even here? Considering you're a guy and considering you are here, I can only assume this is the boys dorm.» The Nordmann let out a small shocked shriek, making the boy let out a loud laugh. «For about 1 to 2 hours. And I brought you here. Couldn't leave ya on the ground to get stepped on, could I?»

Kitty felt a large mix of emotions; confused, angered, flattered, to name a few. Not knowing how to answer, Kitty just asked where the exit was and the young man led them towards it. He opened the door for himself and let it start closing as soon as Kitty came behind. They rolled their eyes and kept quiet, not wanting to speak up about something as stupid as holding the door open and closing it.

«I'm Gary. So what is your name, Kingham's cousin?» Gary introduced himself and turned to Kitty as soon as they both walked down the stairs of the boys' dorm. Kitty turned to him and tilted their head before looking down at the ground.

«Kitty.. Kitty Drage. Pathetic cousin of Helanie Kingham at your service.» They responded, Gary laughing in response. «You know, Dragie, if you want to survive this shit hole, you're gonna have to stick with the sharks or get eaten along with the small fish.»

Due to the comment made by Gary, Kitty turned to Gary, an expression of confusion and slight content on their face. «Are you the small fish or the shark in this situation? Because either way, I think I wouldn't be able to get rid of you.»

For a second, Gary thought about what Kitty had said before turning towards them, a small grin was evident but disappeared quickly. «I'm gonna let you guess which one.» Kitty put a hand on their chin and made a quiet 'hmm'-like sound, while inspecting Gary. «You're one of the sharks. You gave off more shark vibes than small fishy vibes.» Surprisingly, Gary let out a chuckle that sounded content with what Kitty had said, which made them smile a smile bit before they giggled.

"OK, but I kinda still need to find an office, so I can get like my schedule and all that stuff," Kitty spoke, scratching their neck nervously. Gary looked over at them and started to show them the way towards a large building, which he explained was the main building, where all classes except P.E and bike shop were located.

[razorblade180]

Sunshower 9

Dusk time, the time every resident has been waiting for has returned once again. Decorations start to light up like yesterday and one by one people started to roam the streets yet again; including Neptune. He leaned against a small metal railing that went down to the beach via several steps. His pants were replaced with red shorts and a black, half buttoned up shirt. Perfect casual attire for having fun on the beach. It also was the only place his goggles didn’t stick out.

Even though the festivities had just begun, Neptune had already been patiently waiting for Ilia. Sun had informed them of conversation that took place by the lake and eagerly waiting to hear her interpretation of it. He’d had practiced pretending to be ignorant about it for an hour. Secretly being the friend they both turn towards for this predicament was rather challenging, yet flattering. Not to mention he was kinda living for this type teen drama. It was sure more investing than dealing with grimm.

Neptune:Hmmm, where the hell is she? I hope she didn’t change her mind.

“Freeze Human! You’re under arrest!!!” A voice cried out behind Neptune that made him jump instantly and turn around with his hands up.

Neptune:Officer I swear it was Su- Judy?

Judy:Hahaha! Man I got you good!

The fox officer laughed hysterically while holding their scroll sideways like a gun. Neptune would’ve been furious if he wasn’t busy looking at Judy’s outfit. The uniform from earlier was replaced with some blue daisy dukes that showed off her legs and a red crop top that proved that Judy definitely was the type who took police academy seriously. It was a good thing Judy had warned him earlier about using compliments like foxy because he definitely would’ve said it here.

Neptune:Woah.......

Judy:I could say the same thing. I guess earlier I saw you in standard clothes and not party attire. Not to shabby.

Neptune:Th...thanks. You look....wow.

Judy:Hmmm first woah, now wow. Here I thought you had flirting down packed.

Neptune:I’m...sorry?

Judy:Don’t be. Bumbling is was more adorable. *winks*

Neptune:*red* S..so, you’re definitely not dressed for work hehe. I guess you’re off the clock?

Judy:Yep! But technically an officer never really is. If something pops off and I’m around then you bet your ass I got to do something about it. With parties like these even the best of people can do something crazy with enough liquor in their liver.

Neptune:Hehe, ain’t that the truth?

Judy:Hmm, aren’t you too young to drink?

Neptune:.......

Neptune:Am I about to get a ticket?

Judy:Pfft, that’s not worth the ink; and you won’t just here me say that. When Menagerie parties like this then it’s pretty common for the young adults to end up drinking as well. If we tried to enforce a law like the drinking limit during these then we’d run out of trees to make paper in a day. So we let it slide. It’s a double edged sword though. Anybody who gets arrested for something better not hope they’re illegally intoxicated. We’ll add that to the charge.

Neptune:So I’m guessing you’re what, 21?

Judy:Actually I just turned 22. I don’t drink though. Not really my style.

Neptune:I don’t know many people like you. A badass older woman fox cop. That’s a mouthful.

Judy:.......

Neptune:What?

Judy:*hands on hips smirking* Give it a second.

Neptune:......!!! Shit! I’m sorry! Badass older...person. Was that rude? I didn’t mean to-

Judy:*grabs his shoulder* Neptune, was it?

Neptune:Y..yes.

Judy:I’m just messing with ya. Lighten up; just wondering if you’d catch on.

Neptune:I sort of put two and two together with a bit of Ilia’s help. Sorry, I have a couple of gay friends but non-binary is a new one. I’ll try not to slip up too much.

Judy:*grinning* I appreciate the thought. I’m not sensitive about that sort of thing though. Cops need thick skin and I’ve lived this life long enough to be comfortable with how I’m addressed. Feminine pronouns are no skin off my back. Brownie points though if you do get the hang of it though. It would definitely make you more....appealing.

That last word was said strangely to him. Either he was reading the room wrong or there was a definite vibe sh-they were trying to give him. The boy was definitely out of his league with this one. Judy watched his face get a little redder as he was finally let go of.

Neptune:Good to know.

Judy:That’s enough about. Wanna tell me why you’re standing here all alone? I saw your friend up at the Belladonna estate just a bit ago. Waiting on a date?

Neptune:No, but I wouldn’t mind one honestly.

Judy:*raises eyebrow* How bold.

Neptune:That’s not what I- I mean if you wanna. Wait, I’m doing something important! I’m waiting for Ilia; I’m supposed to meet her here.

Judy:She was looking pretty rough earlier. I didn’t think she’d party two days in a row.

Neptune:She sort of got persuaded. I’m wondering what’s keeping her?

Judy:Why wonder when you can ask? You have her number right? Face time her.

Neptune:Why not just call?

Judy:Trust me, she doesn’t answer regular calls nearly as often. She’s probably just laying around.

xxxx

“I’m going to be the number one hero!”

“Fuck yeah you are!” Ilia shouted at her tv proudly as she put a spoon full of cereal in her mouth. “I wish someone could give me a super power.”

Bzzz!!! Bzzz!!! Incoming call

She looked down at her scroll to see the little goggle icon she gave Neptune shaking side to side Ilia wasn’t stupid. She knew what time it was; she also knew that she still wasn’t feeling in a party mood. ‘Maybe if I ignore it, he won’t call it again? Then again, it’s face time. Why not just call? .....screw it.’ Ilia answers it.

Ilia:H-

Neptune:Where are you!? Party time officially began at least half an hour ago!

Ilia:Uuhhhhh, fashionably late?

Neptune:Is that why you have dried up milk in the corners of your mouth?

Ilia:.....*wipes mouth* Yes? Hehehe.

Neptune:Are you even dressed?

Ilia:...Does a sports bra and basketball shorts count?

Neptune:You wear a bra in the comfort and privacy of your own house?

Ilia:Yeah?

Neptune:Hmmm, you would.

Ilia:W..what does that me-

Neptune:Never mind that! Ilia, put on something party casual and hurry up. Don’t think I won’t drag you out of your house.

Ilia:You don’t know where I live Neptune.

Judy:*offscreen* I do!

Ilia:Judy!? Are you with my parole officer!!? Am I on speaker phone!?

Neptune:...That sounds pretty bad out loud but yes. Say hi Judy. *hands her scroll*

Judy:Hey Spots. You look comfy.

Ilia:I was. Now I’m suspicious.

Judy:Relax, I bumped into your friend and simply asked what he was doing. Apparently he’s waiting for you, so get off your butt and put on your dancing shoes!

Ilia:Shouldn’t my parole officer encourage me to stay in one place?

Judy:All I have to do is recommend you make good choices, which is something I never had to do with you personally because news flash, you’re a good citizen; reformed anyways.

Ilia:Woah, almost a complete compliment.

Judy:You know I find you endearing. Now are you real going to bum out on your couch watching anime.

Ilia:How did you know it was-

Judy:Or are you going to enjoy the night with your friend who keeps jumping every time he hears a wave crash on the shore?

Neptune:Hey!

Ilia:Sigh........uuuugggggghhhhh

Judy:FYI, if I see you out and about tonight then you don’t have to wake up early and report to me tomorrow. You can sleep in.

Ilia:.......

Ilia:Give me fifteen minutes.

Judy:I’ll give you twenty five. I can smell you from here. *hangs up*

Ilia:I don’t-oooohhhh Judy you.....why can’t I have a normal parole officer!?

xxxx

Judy:She’s on her way.

Neptune:You’re good.

Judy:Nah, Ilia is just a big softie. Even if she won’t admit it. I do hope she cuts back on the drinking.

Neptune:Pfft, after yesterday she already said she’s not drinking a single drop of alcohol.

Judy:Whay happened yesterday?

Neptune:(Crap....) Oh you know..... too drunk to actually enjoy herself. I mean you saw her when I had to basically carry her.

Judy:Hmm, you’re definitely holding out on me. I can hear it your voice.

Neptune:What are you a detective? Wait, are you? *eyes widen*

Judy:No, you’re just really bad under pressure. That’s enough of you talking about what you do with females at parties. We have time to kill. *grabs his hand*

Neptune:*red* Where are we going?

Judy:Standing in one spot is boring! We’re going on a little walk on beach. Maybe get our feet a little wet?

Neptune:That’s...you see....bodies of w..water and I don’t exactly go together!

Judy:Yeah right. Your name is Neptune and I can see the goggles on your head.

Neptune:(I’ve made a terrible choice in fashion. Sun, I don’t know how but you owe me for this one.)

xxxx

Yang:Oh, you’re back....

Sun:Yeah, I have a room here....

The two of them stood in the doorway of Blake’s house. Not many people have come to enjoy the festivities inside yet but those who did were treated to uneasy tension the two radiated. Neither of them had changed. In situations like these, you come prepared for the worst.

Yang:I don’t want to argue with you.

Sun:Me either.

Yang:So why does it feel like we’re one bad move away screaming our heads off.

Sun:Because you’re obviously defensive over this. As for me, I’m.....sad.

Yang:*frown* You’re not sad Sun. I know what sad is. What you are is hurt. Badly. Not that I blame you.

Sun:But you still insist on rubbing it in my face knowing how I feel? I thought you were better than that.

Yang:That’s not what- listen, I get it. I started ya off on bad terms and might’ve...deserved some choice words. My bad. Can we at least try to look past that?

Sun:*folds arms*....For Blake.

Yang:For Blake.

Kali:*walks up* Well that was a sorry excuse for an apology. Shouldn’t huntsman be somewhat good with deterring hostile situations. Both of you are scaring guest. Now I may not know the complete ins and outs of your problems but I know Blake cherishes you both; I cherish you both. Ghira might not show it but Sun, he is fond of you.

Something about hearing that made him smile a little. It would’ve been nice for Ghira to say it himself but still, it was nice.

Kali:If one of you is upset then Blake is upset. If both of you are upset with each other then you better believe that Blake will be concerned and I’ll be mad at both of you. So please, actually try and forgive one another; faking it won’t solve the problem. You’ll only end up more hurt.

Yang and Sun:.......Yes ma’am.

Kali:Sun?

Sun:Yes?

Kali:I hope you know that you don’t have to force yourself to okay so soon? As much as I would be thrilled if you were, we all know that’s not how these things work. Take your time. After all, this isn’t some physical injury you got. You’re heart broken.

He was. Sun didn’t really want to give it that label. Him and Blake definitely shared a lot of deep moments together since they met but they weren’t exactly plentiful. Yet somehow Blake....really captivated him. She was special to him. That feeling itself hasn’t changed. there was now simply miserable end layer that followed it; like bitter sweet chocolate. Coming here in the first place was struggle on its own. His chest felt heavy and face slightly warm. It felt wrong to not be completely happy for Blake. It felt selfish....

Yang:You know, Blake is still getting ready. Kali and I can tell her you stopped by to let her know you just weren’t feeling well? If that’s what you wanna do that is.

Sun:..Yeah. That might be for the best right now. *rubs head* Tell her I’m sorry too.

Yang watched him turn around and begin walking down the stairs. Guilt didn’t stop with him. Even she had to admit this isn’t what she wanted. Seeing Sun low spirited was unnatural. Things couldn’t end like that; not completely poor. “Sun!” She called out to him without thinking and ran to him. Sun turned just in time to receive an unexpected hug from the blonde bruiser. It took a moment before he returned it in kind.

Sun:.....

Kali:*smiling*

Yang:Please feel better. I mean that. You’re just not you without a smile. I’m...I’m sorry I took that from you. I didn’t mean to.

Sun:Something was going to be collateral. No way around that. Thanks though; I needed a hug.

Sun spent no time putting distance between himself and that house. The sunset had was finally fading int night and with it brought more active people out and about. Many heading to where he just left, but some preferred to make the streets their dance floor. He wasn’t quite in a mood for it however. Instead he sat alone on a bench near the beach entrance and closed his eyes.

‘I wonder where the other are? They should be around here somewhere. Heh, Ilia is totally gonna be pissed that I didn’t follow through. Well, not exactly. At least Yang and I seem a bit more friendly. Still, so much for a part do over’

“Someone looks pretty gloomy for them to claim that making friends is their so called secret semblance.” The sarcastic tone was all he needed to hear in order to know Ilia was right in front of him.

“Hi Ilia.” No effort was put into making that sound cheery. “Sun, please tell me I didn’t get dressed for nothing?” His eyebrows scrunched at her words in confusion before actually deciding to take a look at the her. Ilia wore a simple white tank top and jean shorts that looked ripped by her own doing. They were faded and stopped halfway down her thighs. The most surprising part about the outfit, other than it being like colors, was her shoes. Sun didn’t expect Ilia to own a pair of high top sneakers. They were so blue with yellow stitching.

Sun:Where are the others?

Ilia:Don’t know; I just got here.

Sun:What? Shouldn’t you have been here like an hour ago?

Ilia:*red* I-I almost bailed. I’m sorry...

Sun:Don’t be. I kinda wished you did. It would make me feel a lot better about not holding up my end of the bargain.

Ilia:Someone looks like they have a story to tell. Or a reason to scream?

Sun:Try both.

Ilia:I just might. After you tell me about it first. Scoot over.

xxxx

Ilia:....

Sun:Well? No comments?

Ilia:Oh I have comments. They’re just mostly I told you so. Seriously, I’m the one who suggested getting space away from this situation in the first place!

Sun:I’m pretty sure you did not phrase it as kind. “Screw Blake Belladonna mentality” was what you said.

Ilia:Same difference. You got the message.

Sun:Yeah. Sorry, you were right. If you wanna go home then I won’t stop you. I’m not in much of a party mood anyways.

Ilia:.....

Ilia:Too bad

Sun:What?

Ilia:I said too bad. I’m already dressed and out here. You’re stuck with me. We decided on three hours right? Plenty of time to turn this night around.

Sun:But-

Ilia:Too bad....*grins* Listen, would you really rather sit here alone and bummed out. At least around me you’ll look cheery by comparison.

Sun:That’s pretty when you think about Ilia.

Ilia:Trust me, I know. So let’s at least try to fix that!

Her words and attitude were picking up steam so to speak. Only a little awhile ago did Sun hear the girl want to do nothing but lay around but now she was at least trying to give him positive vibes to feed off on. He hasn’t seen this much enthusiasm since their race. “You’re a real haggler aren’t ya?”

“You’re one to talk, banana breath.” She folded her arms and smirked with pride. The petty insult managed to put more of a smile on his face. “Look at that, you’re looking better already.” He playfully rolled his eyes; she might’ve been right though. He’d let her have this little victory if it meant her spirits was lifted too. A smile on her face was beginning to be a rare thing.

The two kept trying to read each other’s facial expression in an attempt to get some sort of edge over the other to tease them about. That all stopped however when the same thought came to both of them. ‘How long have I been staring?’ Unknowingly this had been going on for a couple minutes. Not only that, they hadn’t realized how physically close they had gotten in the process. Someway, somehow, Ilia had inched closer to him until there was almost no space between them except for hands that were finger nails apart. Sun was no better. He was so focused on reading her that he actually had leaned in a bit. Their faces only a few inches away. Ilia’s skin flashed pink briefly before her immediate jolt backwards away from him. Sun wondered if she had noticed? He wouldn’t bring it up if she didn’t. Even he could tell his face was probably a bit flushed from the unexpected breach of personal space.

Sun:S..Sorry about-

Ilia:No, it’s fine. My bad. We’re cool......

Sun:Cool. Cool...*rubs head* so uhh, let’s find Neptune I guess?

Ilia:Sounds like a plan!

They hop up from the bench and begin looking too see if they could spot him. “Judy was with him whe he called me. I’m sure they’re on the beach.”

“Let’s go then.” His mind instinctively went to grab her hand. He had caught what he was about to do but before he could backpedal, Ilia’s hand met his halfway and grabbed it. Her own subconscious action startled her. She had seen his hand swing back to her and simply...reached for it. Ilia looked at their hands then at Sun who was more than a little embarrassed by the incident.

Sun:I-

Ilia:Yeah, this crowd is getting pretty big. Wouldn’t want to get split and then have to find each other too.

She couldn’t tell if she was giving him an out, being logical, or rationalizing what happened to herself; and she wasn’t about to linger on it. Now was the time for fun. Anything else can be dealt with another day. Ilia took the lead and lead him to the beach.

Part8

[somuchfuckingsalt]

The Old Guard BAU AU

First and foremost, I would like to clarify that so long as they have US citizenship and have renounced citizenship to any other country, they are allowed to be special agents in the FBI. 

Obviously, Andy is the unit chief. As the oldest I could see someone putting her as the senior agent but none of the Guard - including Andy - give me the same vibes as Gideon or Rossi so yeah. She’s the unit chief that is very professional, kind of intimidating but is soft off the clock, and exclusively wears dark, neutral coloured suits that are barely indistinguishable from each other. She worked with and dated Quyhn when she was still working in a field office but they broke up when Andy moved back to Quantico to join the BAU. She later married and divorced Achilles before getting back together with Quyhn after Quyhn joined the team. And yes, I’m also giving her Hotch’s parenting storyline because a) BAMF, career driven women can still have and want children and b) her being on mat-leave is a nice, believable plot-reason for her having been gone for a year before Nile joins. 

Nicky is the communications liaison. Between the fact he canonically used to be a priest and is referred to as him having kindness live inside him, I very easily see him being the one sitting with the grieving families and handling the public. Even if it’s not believable I have decided that he was so BAMF at his firearm training that after he completed his course at the FBI Academy they sent him to train as a sniper. Also, I have latched onto the autistic!Nicky headcanons - only in this au he’s properly diagnosed and acknowledged to be autistic (unlike Reid in the show). He is the best one to handle emotionally sensitive situations with victims and witnesses.

Booker is the technical analyst but he comes out into the field more than Garcia does in the show, because before he joined the FBI he worked for a city bomb squad so he not only has field training but in addition to being their tech expert he’s also their bomb expert. Like Garcia he got the FBI job by being very good at hacking but breaking laws with his skills. While he’s not as joyful as Garcia (obviously), he does platonically flirt with Joe, because they’re BFFs and when they initially met it was a week before Booker started at the BAU and Joe had asked Booker to pretend to be his boyfriend to get a girl at a bar to stop flirting with him.

Joe’s role on the team is based off of Morgan, with alterations. He's the one that teaches hand-to-hand at Quantico and will soon be scouted to take on leadership positions at various field offices. He also is the best to handle interrogations and negotiations because he could talk the pope into becoming an atheist. His platonic flirting with the straight Booker got more intense to distract from his genuine flirting with Nicky. Has an older brother relationship with Nile, where they bond over their art hobbies and he’s equally likely to give heartfelt advice or start a prank war. Chances are if someone on the team is having a mental or emotional crisis, they go to Joe. 

Nile is the baby genius, the protege, the youngest. She graduated hella early and has many degrees. While she has a ton of knowledge about many different subjects, her youth and newness to the team means that she has the most to learn, but even so, her newness means that intensity and horror that comes to the job hasn’t had it’s chance to affect her as much yet. This brings a surprising breath of fresh air the rest of the team didn’t know they needed (particularly Andy). Gideon’s the one that brings her on the team and Andy is initially against it but Nile quickly impresses her and gets her to warm up.

Copley is the section chief who is desperately trying to keep control of them all but their team’s motto is basically Fuck The Rules and he fails miserably. He’s promoted to section chief shortly after Nile joins. 

I haven’t quite figured out exactly what I want for Lykon and Quyhn. I know I’m basing Quyhn’s backstory on Prentiss’s and that she worked with and dated Andy before separating and reconnecting later on when Quyhn joins that team. I also know I want the team line up to be the same as the movie when Nile joins so I have a vague notion of Lykon dying on the job and Andy just being so traumatized by it that either she’s slow to get a replacement, they’re all hella picky about the replacement so no one new lasts long, or some combination of both.

Senior agents will still be Gideon/Rossi with their show plots because as I said, no one on the team really gives me the correct vibe for senior agent and honestly I just love their two characters. 

[dragonshoard]

@markala5 

(Because the thread was getting too long i made a new one // I’m sorry for any typos ;( I’m super tired lol)

I agree with the fact that she is super stubborn. She’s set on not only creating an alternative for the extermination Hell goes through each year but also proving herself to her father and the people of Hell in general. It would definitely be something inherent to angel!Charlie because she aches for people to care about her and people to care about. 

She’s definitely developed her own sense of self after all these years, but the problem is that it’s based off of validity from people around her which IS NOT HEALTHYYY. It’s actually really sad. She’ll be her perky self and be immediately shut down by the people around her. She may be willing to brawl, but she’s just as likely to shut down. 

Long post is long so I’m putting it under read more

On the thing about apathy. I find it an interesting concept with this world. There is a certain level of Apathy to Hell but its the type where everything is super active and violent, just everyone is super blase about it. There’s the half of hell actively always looking for a fight/power and the other half that just sort of... exists in misery.

As an angel who not only needs people around them but also NEEDS a purpose, it’s an extremely toxic environment. With the system you’re describing... just ow. I can only imagine how many times Charlie has nearly faded and just what needed to be done to get her back. 

Like, Vaggie is a recent development (not even 10 years) and there hasn’t been anyone else around Charlie that would function as a support other than her parents, possibly. 

(I’m still shocked that Vaggie only died in 2014. She’s super young but comes off as acting like one of the oldest - I genuinely thought she had been childhood friends with Charlie lol)

I’d imagine that instead of fading away, it would be more like she falls into a coma (I need Disney references, she’s literally a Disney princess). And I’d like to think that its more like a self generative state because, again, been established that you can’t exactly die naturally in Hell (or Heaven, presumably). Longest she’s slept would probably me... probably a year? It’s been established that Lilith and Charlie have a close relationship, so I’m thinking that most of the time it’s Lilith bringing her back after the fact and supporting her. There was one time where her father showed he cared enough (the time she slept for a year - he was even nice enough to preen her feathers) but he went back to being mostly apathetic after that (jealousy is no good :/). 

Because even people with the strongest sense of self and will power will crash in that environment. Lilith would definitely be her number one supporter until Vaggie (and especially how now Lilith is very busy in canon time), but it wouldn’t be enough (especially when flocks typically have around 10-15 people). 

She’d fight for as long as she could. Towards the end of the “cycle” (about to go to sleep) it would be the hardest for her not to sing and her passive song would be the strongest and most violent/desperate (enough that even her Dad can vaguely hear it and typically starts preparing her room). At this point it would be the hardest to keep her angelic features in so she starts isolating herself, speeding up the process. Her song would come out stuttery (imagine the first song in the pilot - constantly singing that one but in between sobs) and she’d try to stay awake but would fall asleep each time. 

And when she wakes up her song would be bright, loud and optimistic, determined to break the circle (it never works).  

Alastor would have no clue that this happens so the first time she goes through it after meeting him, he is beyond curious. He knows little about angel biology, only bits and pieces he’s picked up over the years. He spends the two weeks she spends sleeping taking care of her and feeling out her (for once) peaceful song. 

(I do the same. Making myself sad should be a professional job lol)

Charlie displays steel and passion on her shoulders just as clearly as her insecurities. Alastor was drawn to her from first song, tbh. There was something about it that he found fascinating and when he actually met her she was far more interesting. To be frank though, I’d imagine that initially she reminds him of the type of people he would hunt when he was alive. Meeting her, it would kind of reinforce that because he doesn’t really see her thinking for herself. The more he would get to know her, the more he’d see that she is truly someone born of Hell and the more interesting she becomes to him. She’ll say some things that are so blatantly inhuman that it’ll just make him double take. 

She would be an itinerary of knowledge for horrible things (like how to kill, how to torture people, etc) but she doesn’t use or like any of it. It’s just a result of living with her family and in Hell as a general concept. I’m kind of imagining a young Charlie being forced to sit through executions and torture sessions either performed or ordered by her father (maybe even forced to do it herself). 

....ok i went on a tangent whoops. 

And YES SHE ASSOCIATES HELL AS HERS ALL HERS. This is canon. Actual canon. She doesn’t care about silly turf wars, doesn’t care about who is on whose side. They’re all hers. I remember reading in the wiki that she takes the approach of treating rehabilitating sinners like children. I think this would come in here. 

It would kill her to lose so many souls so constantly but, holy hell, she’s also getting just as many people daily so she’s constantly hearing new songs join the already mixed and jumbled song. It would be really distracting and sometimes interferes with her higher process thinking.

But you gotta admit the angel part of her would be super confused at all the killing because, technically, it’s her own kind that’s killing off her people. One half of her would be screaming “WHY WHY WHY DO THIS KIN WHY ARE YOU HURTING ME” while the other half is screaming for blood and respite. 

And yeah, being unable to do anything about it and no matter how much her Mom tries to calm her down and how thick the walls of her bunker are, it doesn’t stop her from hearing the screaming and sheer devastation. Coming out after the fact is draining and she spends at least a day or so crying and singing her heart out (her voice practically broken at this point from her own screaming). Her skin would be especially ill-fit but there’s no part of her angel half willing enough to show itself. It’s akin to feeling like you’re swimming in a sweater that’s three sizes too big. 

....she is totally a lion. She has the mane for it despite identifying as female xD

Tbh honest, when I first thought of angels in this universe and what not, I likened them to being a species in which you’re one or you’re not. So a hybridization like Charlie is not only rare, but unstable. Her demon and angel halves fight for dominance and, eventually, one half will win and there’s no going back from there. Omg CHARLIE BEING THE FIRST SURVIVING CHILD IS SO SAD. NOOOOO ;((((((

Charlie goes underground during the extermination for a good reason lol. As she gets older, her instincts would severely change. The older she gets (and the more powerful), the more prone she is to fighting back. By the time canon comes around, she has to be chained during the extermination and Lucifer or Lilith have to be there to make sure she doesn’t break out of the chains.

Charlie is aware of this and so she would be terrified af when her friends suggested they get together during the extermination for support. By this point, Charlie is starting to feel more stable and feels that she might actually be able to control herself better with her flock surrounding her. 

Alastor probably wouldn’t know about it until he shows up out of nowhere and sees them barricading the hotel and is like wtf are you all doing. He side eyes the chains that Charlie sneaks past her flock. He immediately decides that it would be a splendid and fun idea to join them. Vaggie tries to deny him, but Charlie is quick to agree, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn’t have to be chained. 

She sticks close to him when the clock hits midnight and the angels descend. The chains were a precautionary measure and in between Alastor and her flock, she thought that she wouldn’t have needed them but she was WRONG. 

Somehow, Charlie manages to hold herself back until an angel shows up at her door. A part of her is whimpering cousin-friend-family-brother-sister while another part of her knew what exactly this meant.and was screaming in the only way she knew how to tell the angel to GO AWAY. 

But yeah, they don’t and they get messed up and Charlie ends up revealing her eldritch form to her friends (other than Alastor who has already seen her in this form by this point).  Alastor would definitely draw her into a duet to bring her back to herself. 

During this Alastor would be so excited to see his angel kill an actual angel. Sadly (to him) they end up getting away. The feathers clenched in her hands were trophies of another kind. He wanted to pin and frame the wing in one of her clawed hands. 

But it’s still kind of a horrible moment too because the extermination is still happening and Charlie can still hear and feel her people dying. She’d be crying to tell him to make it stop and all he could really do is sing quietly to her, emphasizing his own song to try and mute some of the carnage. 

But if there’s anything Alastor can do, it’s talk and talk about everything but nothing. 

FUTURE LA MUERTE/XIBALBA AND ADAMS COUPLE VIBES AHHHHH. I support this so much. I see them in the future as a fairly antagonistic and competitive couple I don’t know why (so kind of like La Muerte and Xibabla xD). They love each other more than anything but, at the same time, they can only handle each other in contained doses. There would of course be the honeymoon period, but eventually when they settle, their personalities and morals combat each other quite a bit. Both of them are unyielding in their beliefs and unwillingness to change so it would cause some clashing. 

Can’t live with em, can’t live without em’.

They would be that couple that’s always singing and dancing though, from tango to intense and dramatic songs to slow ballroom. It would annoy everyone around them and Charlie would feel some embarrassment at first but, in the end, absolutely love it. 

Lol this was all very very great :DDDDD  I feel you. I feel like I’ve written a fic but its great xD

[nutwit]

5, 14, and 32 for the dnd ask meme, please!

o shit another one ok!

in the words of the good red man, here a we go i think i said that last time actually oh well

5. Favorite NPC

Oh that’s a tough one.  I think it’s tied between Bernard Tripsocket, gnome conspiracy theorist, Julian Montressor, the dapper physicist pirate captain of the Stern played by Christopher Jackson, and Mzumiel (Zoomy), a three-city-block-long beta fish eel monster, demon lord of the fourth column, master of the ethereal and lover of model trains, the billion-eyed and long-mouthed, and owner of the most soothing telepathic southern accent this side of the underdark.

this next one’s a doozy so its under the cut

14.  Introduce the other parties you’ve played in / DMed

I’ve DMed for just one other party, and played in just one other party too.  And technically speaking, the party i DMed for was part of the same story as all the characters in the last answer?  Here let me explain.

There are three parties:  the CFRP, the Freelancers, and the Librarians.  The CFRP stands for Center for Firmament Research and Protection, and they’re the party I outlined last #asked and answered.

The Freelancers are a team of legendary heroes *snrk* who do adventures for hire.  They’re honestly a more traditional dnd party, but we play the freelancer campaign in dungeon world, so fuck you.

Helios Amastacia, high elf paladin.

Remember Venus Amastiacia from the last post?  Her older sibling has been out looking for their wayward sister for years.  Helios is built like a brick shit house and bares the power of Tyr, the one-armed god of tactics and war.  They’re by far the most level-headed of the bunch.  Strong parent vibes but also strong sibling vibes, and also just generally very strong.

Tex McCree, human fighter.

Jesus Fucking Christ this man.  He’s fucked his way across half the continent, at some point toppled some kind of feudal lineage, accidentally got a lordship, peaced out of that and found A Shotgun, somehow, sweet-talked his way into bed with the chairwoman of the Shatterpeak Council (Keegan’s mom), he’s a mess!  He’s a mess!  He got grossed out by touching a dead body like a week ago!

Mira the Blade, human thief.

She’s the best thief in the world.  No, really.  I’m not just saying that, it’s important for her character arc.  She’s even stolen from the Amastacia vaults, which she and Helios have laughs about sometimes.  She likes to push the limits of her abilities and wouldn’t be caught dead in a bathing suit for a number of unspecified reasons.  Very gay, extremely gay.  Has an as-of-yet unidentified link with Nikolai Hoobluff from the CFRP campaign.  :3c

Hollik Bannagammer Merrilin, gnome bard/barbarian.

Baby boy.  He just wants to write good songs about his heroes, Mira and Helios.  Him and Tex are very good chaotic friends who have never caused problems ever for the party in any circumstances.  One time he bought approximately 2000 dollars worth of fish from a butcher at 4 in the morning.  His catchphrase is, “Hello, new friends!”  Also if you hurt his friends he will kill you.

Sunbeam Talbot, halfling ranger.

So this one’s fun.  In the second arc of the Freelancer campaign, before Talbot joins up, they get hired by Hollik’s brother Bernard to steal his notes back from the museum he recently got fired from because his notes prove some big conspiracy or whatever.  Talbot happened to work at that museum, and Mira tried to steal his ID to get in, but Talbot clocked her before she got away.  So now that the museum’s been destroyed by ancient death roots from beyond time (don’t ask), he’s hunting her down to figure out what the fuck is going on.  Also, in the CFRP campaign, he’s the head of the CFRP. 

So, for those of you keeping track, the timeline is super convoluted and intriguing.  I have a lot of reveals I really really want to get to, so hopefully we’ll be able to start playing again once school lets out after next week.

So that’s the Freelancers.

The Librarians are a group of relic hunters brought together by a mysterious pair of brothers to recover a mirror from an ancient ruin that totally isn’t made of rebar and concrete for undisclosed reasons.  We haven’t played much with them because Katie’s been busy but I’m totally in love with her world.

Alys al’Damo, half-elf wizard.

Alys is off looking for the chosen one to guide them on their quest for something something.  She doesn’t really know who or what she’s looking for.  All she has to go on is vague prophecy and tarot-like character descriptions that she adheres to vehemently.  She also has a very good hawk familiar and specializes in fire magic.

Vix Sen, half-orc bard.

Vix is a very strong very sexy fashion designer.  She’s the Edna Mode of dungeoneering.  She’s designed turtlenecks for the king of all turtles probably.  Mostly she spends her time nowadays casting three thunderwaves in a minute jesus fuck Vix please I like having EARS.

Jedediah Brookes, human warlock.

Doctor Brookes is very dirty and greasy and very nice.  He has a secret doctor’s office in the seedy part of town where he stitches people up for free if they’re down on their luck, but in secret, like batman.  But surgery doesn’t explain his witch bolts.  Turns out his dad is a god of healing or something?  And Jed, being great, begrudgingly made a pact with him to be his emissary on earth.

Cederus Dur-Barundeaunt, dwarf cleric.

This boy is mine!  Cederus is a very old, very wise dwarf who’s spent most of his life in the clergy.  He’s that sort of old man style rascal where your pop pop would smuggle you a sweet when your mom said no sweets.  The most important part of his characterization though, and the reason I love playing him so much, is because of a bit of worldbuilding I did with Katie.  Dwarves in this world calcify as they get old.  Cederus is getting on in years, and two parts have already started to turn to limestone:  his upper leg, and his eyes.  He is totally blind and relies on his familiar to see.

I had to do some homebrewing with Katie to make Cederus work right because clerics aren’t supposed to have familiars and I had to start at level 2 for this campaign.  He’s got an extremely thick french accent.  I love him.

AND FINALLY

32.  Your favorite role to play (tank, healer, etc)

I haven’t played many roles actually (I’m the DM it’s my curse), but honestly, I don’t even think of characters like that at this point.  I’m not really very interested in playing any particular “role“ over the others, because I’m not really into that kind of play?  The numbers and the mechanics are a lot of fun, sure, but the reason I play DnD is to write a good story with my friends!  I’d much rather play a character with a motivation or theme that I’m really into than fill a party role, although roles can be useful in coming up with motivations!

THIS WAS SO BIG IM SO SORRY and also very late!  but if anyone is interested in more of this, let me know!

[maryofone]

The Wait

There’s this memory I have that I’ve been wanting to write about since I started this blog almost a year ago, but I’ve been struggling to find context for it. It definitely has to do with love and relationships, but I’m not really sure I ever learned a lesson from it. I think the reason I keep wanting to write about it has little to do with what it taught me, and more about what it showed me.

I had my first boyfriend at 22 which isn’t the lamest thing in the world, but it definitely made me naïve as shit by the time I finally did lock one down. Naive and nervous and just a million miles outside of my comfort zone. I also made an odd choice for a first boyfriend. Coworker at the diner I worked for; several years older than me; kind of ghetto/could-have-ended-up-in-jail sort of vibe; and just not exactly the most considerate or communicative person in the world. But I was smitten to death and hell-bent on snagging him. Logic and gut feelings were no match for my crush on him.

Even though I was confident that I wanted him to be my first boyfriend, I was still a ball of nervous uncertainty leading up to us finally getting together. When he and his girlfriend eventually broke up, my anxiety started working overtime because I knew it was a matter of weeks if not days before he and I would be together. I’d never been so nervous in my life, and like I said this guy was kind of a dick on his best of days, so even though he was technically into me, his overall communication skills (or lack thereof) didn’t exactly help with my anxiety.

One day, about a week after he and his girlfriend had broken up, I somehow got him to agree to get together outside of work. Typing it out like that in a single sentence makes the moment seem so small, in comparison to the year and a half I waited for and prayed for and dreamt of it. It was my reason for fucking existence for a year and a half. All I wanted in the world was to get him outside of work so he could see that we belonged together (whether we actually did belong together is a totally different story). Waiting for him to make plans with me was my life’s work for like 500 fuckin days, and finally, FINALLY it was happening. We both felt the additional tension from him suddenly being single, and so a plan to hang out after work was made. 

“I’ll call you when I get home,” he said.

This was officially the biggest moment of my life, and after my shift ended I drove home immediately to prepare. In my teensy little apartment that had the dimensions of a fucking treehouse, I showered, exfoliated, shaved, moisturized, picked the perfect outfit, did my makeup as flawlessly as possible, and plopped down on the couch to wait for his call. His shift finished at about 3:30pm so I figured I should be on standby by 4pm. So there I sat. I knew he might take his time a little bit so I threw on some TV to keep me occupied. As much as I remember every other detail of this memory, I have zero recollection of what I watched on TV. Probably because I didn’t watch any of it. I just kept my eye on that clock.

I’ll never forget how fixed my eyes were on those glowing green numbers of the Rogers box. 

4:01. 4:02. 4:03.

5:00. 5:01. 5:02.

6:31. 6:32. 6:33. 

8:58. 8:59. 9:00.

The asshole never called. At least, he didn’t that night. And to this day what haunts me about this memory isn’t that he never called. It was the way I watched the clock. I watched every single minute pass by for five straight hours. Do you know how fucked up that is? Can you imagine nervously waiting for something to happen any minute, every minute for five full hours? It’s not a fun feeling. It’s definitely not a healthy feeling. And it’s no fucking way to live.

Why do I think about this memory? What does it stay with me? What does it say to me? I think it stays with me because I know I’m not the only girl who can watch a clock like that while she waits for a guy to acknowledge her. I think a lot of girls do that. I think millions of girls do that, and are doing that right now. Even if they’re not sitting on a couch alone with their eyes fixed on an actual clock, they’re still waiting. Out for brunch with friends, sporadically checking their phone. Running some errands, keeping their ears pricked for the muffled ringtone in their purse. Doing whatever it is they’re doing with their day, all the while waiting. Just waiting for some fuckin guy to reassure her; to make her feel valued so that she can enjoy the rest of her day.

It kills me to think of all the girls who are just waiting and waiting and waiting for a guy to come around. But then again, guys don’t have it easy in the dating world either, what with all that pressure to make the first move and be the pursuer. It seems to be that the chase is their burden, and the wait is ours. And while I can’t be sure these two roles are ever really going to change, I do know one thing’s for sure: dating is fucking exhausting.  

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story Part 70

I quickly grew accustomed to living at Maria's, and for the most part, even though I had been psychologically enslaved, I managed to grow and develop as a person at Maria's. Perhaps slave is a bit strong. Slave implies physical restraint. There was technically no physical restraint. But that household would have fallen to bits without me, and it was hard to say no considering there was nothing else for me to turn to. Going to either parent's house seemed like a terrible chance to take at the moment. I had a little bit of freedom at Maria's in the off chance that I was not babysitting, which was seldom. Maria had me feeling pure guilt over anything I did wrong. It was funny, because she herself was not a perfect housekeeper, but she made sure that I did a perfect job. I was the one who cooked, did the dishes, scrubbed the floors and toilets, do the laundry, and anything else that needed doing. Any sort of sense of structure or discipline came from me. Maria worked or slept or watched romantic comedies, and if she was home her children acted atrociously, breaking things, attacking one another, making it impossible for anything to go smoothly. And I just tried to ignore them when Maria and her kids were being toxic. It was hard sometimes, but I had to hold back.

This had been the first time in my life that I adhered to a structure. I've often been known to be terribly lazy for one and for two I think generally, excluding specific situations, it's more important for people to keep in touch with their own wants and inner workings than it is to follow some societal clock. But at Maria's, I just sort of fell into it. Perhaps having been out of school for so many years with nothing meaningful to take up my time, I needed that structure. I had few belongings, three shirts, two pairs of pants, and about forty paperbacks that I read through vigorously. I woke up each morning and did a certain range of chores. By around noon I would sit down and play Innocent Life Harvest Moon for three hours and then I would get up and start dinner. The kids were picky, so I essentially had to cook two-four separate dinners for each of them. After dinner I mopped the floors and did the dishes and got the kids ready for bed. Then I would read until I was tired.

Some days the Mormons would come and talk to the kids. They talked to me a bit – but they looked taken aback and hurt when they discovered I didn't really believe in a conceivable knowable benevolent God with a human essence, so they mostly left me alone, hoping I might catch their drift second hand.

Kurt Vonnegut became my new favorite. His ideas were easy for me to grasp, easy for me to relate to and he was/is probably the funniest writer I know of. I feel like I owed Kurt Vonnegut direct thanks for helping me cope with a difficult life with a smile on my face. He taught me how to laugh at my own expense, and to avoid the temptation of taking myself too seriously, and that life is fleeting. His wrote about dark things at this sociological perspective of seeing society for the first time, and finding great humor in it all. And he didn't intentionally write in a way that was difficult to understand like many writers do – which is ultimately why I think he became so popular. This isn't to say that a word-heavy book isn't worthy of getting through, but I often times feel like there are writers who intentionally try to make their novel seem deep by being wordy to make up for hollow characters that represent very little. If Kurt Vonnegut's characters were hollow, they represented something and had a clear – if not bizarre purpose. Everyone in his book lead you to some perfect representative of ideas from life. I feel like writers who try too hard to be obscure and impersonal, and yet wordy, end up failing to convey a real feeling to most of their audience. I feel like it makes for very detached reading and causes people to lose interest. Of course, there are exceptions. Truman Capote's 'In Cold Blood' was a great example of a novel that was pain-stakingly thorough and articulate to every minute detail and at the very same time succeeded in pulling you very deeply in.

I would sometimes make Maria read one  of Kurt Vonnegut's humorous short stories from Welcome to the Monkeyhouse, only to watch her face contort in confusion. She had no idea what she was reading.

I eventually discovered that the apartment units that I was now living in had a computer lab that anyone could use. It was in a very weird side building. I found it extremely satisfying to sneak in late at night and have the empty lab all to myself. I certainly spent a lot of time in the computer labs, which were almost always empty and had an eerie vibe to them at times, the way empty buildings with long government building lights and carpeting can sometimes have. There was a table in the middle, with a stack of Jehovah's Witness Watchtower magazines, which I began collecting for fun. I liked looking at the depictions of heaven on earth, of families of different races all walking among African carnivores affectionately – the men all wearing Hawaiian or polo shirts. I couldn't  help but wonder if the artist or whoever's idea this was harbored a secret wish to snuggle with lions and feel safe – Jesus coming back being the only way for their dream to come true, not that I could blame someone – I wish lions were snugly and safe, but it seemed to be such a common theme in the art that I felt this key element of heaven on earth was centering itself around.

Zack joined a MySpace. I would often times go there to listen to it and to listen to a few of his personal demos on his page. But lately I noticed when I snuck over to his MySpace to spy, he for some reason had decided to grow a beard – a very dirty looking one. And that former twinkle in his eyes that I remembered so well, it wasn't there in the pictures. I couldn't help but notice that he really seemed to be somewhat transformed into someone else – very hillbilly whereas before he had been very Sonic Youth. He quoted Kid Rock, and he made a comment in all caps that pertained to Jesus and Hell – and dare I say it, it made absolutely no sense to me in any way and had I not suspended my judgment for his sake I would have admitted to myself that it was incredibly dumb. Surely the Zack I knew was still there somewhere. I really didn't understand. I was confused, and besides myself. I even wondered if he had somehow made those statements and grew that dirty beard as a joke? But I let it go. Obviously, I knew that there was a lot more to Zack as a person then a few pictures on MySpace and people were allowed to go through stages. Who was I to judge him, looking at my own self? It was shallow and silly for me to expect someone else to not change, someone I never even talked to no less. I guess I had just harbored this fantasy that Zack would be different. He would become more driven intellectually, and by his poetry and a certain ere of individualism more like me I guess. I had hoped he wouldn't culturally conform to the hillbilly culture of the town we both grew up in. I was becoming more comfortable with a more lucid understanding of gender as well. Of course, this isn't to say that I wanted to see Zack embrace being highly effeminate, which he wasn't. But there is a sort of complexity and openness that I always hope men will do more to embrace, but often times won't because they are afraid they would be seen as feminine. I had become more accustomed to the idea of men being vulnerable and complex, but perhaps it was due to the sort of music I liked, like Bright Eyes. I was hoping Zack, more than anything would be swayed by my thinking about him, and as crazy as it sounds, I would search his page to see some minute indication that he cared about me till, or that I had left some kind of mark of my existence etched into his soul in some way that could be seen. But there never was much.

One day in the computer lab, this young guy about my age came in and sat down two computers away, which instantly made me absurdly nervous. He instantly struck up a conversation with me in this incredibly cordial upbeat manner. He didn't seem to judge me at all, or see me a someone who shouldn't be talked to which I found strange. He was very nice, and I wasn't used to that obviously. So as soon as he started speaking to me, I started having extreme inner conflict. He immediately asked me if I liked music, and I reluctantly told him I did. I felt like there had to be some sort of joke revolving around him talking to me. He wanted to tell me about how much he had come to love Van Morrison, which at the time I didn't know too much about. He started telling me that he had a band and they were continuously getting warnings from the landlord for practicing and they were just in the next building over. He told me about how much he loved The Stooges, as well as a bunch of other older bands. Obviously I loved The Stooges as well, but I was afraid to tell him so for some reason. In self defense I guess, I painted him in my mind that he was a creep, and I wanted to mock him for his interests and ambitions and his appearance, which there was nothing wrong with. Mind you, I didn't actually utter anything mean to him or about him to anyone else. It was just this wave of anxious frustration that suddenly came upon me. Eventually I sort of shut down emotionally and the conversation died. I think he printed out some sheets of tablature and left.

Later that night, I heard his band playing a few units down in the distance, or at least I am fairly certain it was his band. It had that eerie far away vibe to it. They were actually extremely good. I would have listened to them if I had a cd. They sounded a bit like The Kinks, had elements of The Stooges and elements of The Velvet Underground. It was late at night when I heard them play, and listening to them play reminded me that I had once had goals not unlike him. I felt this strange longing to go where the music was coming from, and this sadness and knowing that something very cool was happening, and I was on the other side of that thing. Perhaps what I resented about this nice young stranger was that he was ambitious and vulnerable and passionate about what he loved, and I had become everything opposite to that. It's hard to look back and blame myself at all, I mean, look where I was? But I had let my ambitions die because I was too afraid to take steps, both due to an underlying extremely low sense of self worth, an innate shyness and fear of being misunderstood, which would have been inevitable for me obviously – but it would have been failure that I would have had to push myself through anyway to succeed, and the underlying knowing that even if I did try to do something cool or stand out, my family would knock me down to size immediately. Besides, my function was mostly to babysit. I couldn't even think about doing things that I had no money for. And in order to just get by I had to turn myself to stone. If I let myself feel things now, I was afraid it would have sent me over the edge.

If I was then who I am now, I would have carried out the conversation to see where it would lead, as awkwardly as it made me feel or however long I stumbled in my words. I would have befriended this person, at least initially until I found a good reason to not be friends. It would have been fun if nothing else, an adventure of sorts, and possibly I could have made long lasting new friends that way. This person with very similar interests in me who seemed caring enough to want to make a connection with me, a complete and total stranger had just walked up to me and talked to me, and it felt to some degree that I may have disregarded an opportunity that the universe had somehow provided. But I just wasn't capable of speaking up or feeling comfortable enough in my own skin then. And it all happened too quick for me to reach that conclusion in that moment had I been able to process it. I really questioned myself for the next few months about how and why I became so mean in my thoughts when he had been so friendly towards me. It struck me that perhaps I had been so saturated in the casually judgmental and discourteous chaotic environment of my own family for several years by then, that it was beginning to seep through my castle walls a bit and I was beginning to embody that ugliness even as I did everything I could to see myself as an orphan excluded from the influence of my family and upbringing. The thought of that was quite disturbing to me.

Maria's house could pick up about four channels. I would sometimes watch them just for the sake of it, or listen to the television from the other room when I was doing the dishes. I remember hearing this very clear and charismatic voice one evening coming from the television in the other room. It was Barack Obama, campaigning for presidency. I didn't know that this was necessarily political. For the few years I had been out of school, my thoughts had been more about self preservation and self analysis, and fantasy. I did feel a very strong sense that I liked this guy coming from a place of having zero political agenda or knowledge. I had no idea who he was or even what he looked like. He didn't talk with the same rhetoric and empty sanitized voice that you might typically hear from one of the Bush's.

I would sometimes try to write to Sarah about bigger things beyond our life, mostly my ideas about how I thought the world should run. Sarah had taken a job as a cook in a very busy and very rudimentary kitchen in a restaurant called The Red Rooster. They didn't have a professional flattop of anything like that. They had the same kind of kitchen stove you would use in a household and some of the burners were broken. Which, if you have ever worked in a kitchen you will know is akin to abuse towards your workers in the restaurant industry. She would have to fill forty orders herself, and she worked six days out of the week. It was interesting to hear how hard Sarah was getting beaten up by her job, mostly because Sarah had never been a fast-paced person, she hadn't enjoyed holding positions of responsibility either in her personal life or professional. She didn't enjoy any kind of pain or sacrifice. And she had essentially been thrust into a work environment that was hell on earth for her, and it was changing her a lot, much like the military changes people. Certain weaknesses and avoidant attributes in Sarah were being chiseled away. She was becoming far more leaderly than I could have imagined, and far more bold. She didn't have as much time to write or to question why she was working, or what her living in Texas had even been for. She was just working or sleeping, and was constantly overheated and sweaty. I would try to write her my ideas about class warfare and the type of slavery that we both lived in and suppressed technology and any other ideas I had, many of them being a somewhat well meaning and idealistic, albeit confused version and mixture of socialism and libertarianism. Sarah didn't really want to think about this stuff though. She was so caught up in working and not emotionally letting herself think about why she was doing anything anymore that me trying to put things into some sociological perspective was not well received.

Allison came to visit me for much of the time that I stayed in Moscow. Allison had sort of woken up into a stage of early adulthood where we could suddenly relate with one another again. She and I became even better friends that summer. I felt less and less like her older sister and more like her good friend, though we were clearly still very much sisters. Being as we came from the same place and had the same genetics, it was actually very easy for us to relate to one another. Allison was very much fresh air to me. She was generally enthusiastic, very optimistic and excited about studying the interrelatedness between people and their dramatic encounters. Allison's favorite things were InuYasha and Naruto, and she had started creating her own manga story, much like I had at her age. We spent a long time talking about anime characters and with my knowledge of character building in books and movies, I was able to give her insight on how to create a more original story for her characters who I helped her develop into having more depth, while still giving her room to put her own spin on her own inner universe. When she came to visit, her and Jasmine would go into the computer lab and watch InuYasha until the sun rose again. I never watched it with them, but I became very accustomed to the dubbed American voices crying out during battle scenes for some sliver of a jewel shard or demon related thing, and I can still hear the faint cries of 'KIKIO! When I think about it.

What I couldn't quite grasp was why she loved Twilight so much. It was trying to be supportive, but it seemed like every young girl or woman and their mother had read these books, which seemed even on the surface, totally banal. Allison would talk on and on about the characters from this book series and their relations with one another. I tried asking questions about aspects that didn't add up to me. For one, the main character seemed to have no defining personality characteristics. Bella just seemed really vacant. I didn't really get it. I had the same criticism of the series that a million and a half other people had so a great deal of my ideas about Twilight aren't exactly original content. And honestly, I didn't like Harry Potter either, and many people adored the Harry Potter series so I took into account that I might have been too harsh in my criticisms. Most of the times, I just shut my brain off while Allison went on and on about Twilight. Allison would talk on and on in support of team Jacob, and I just knew when to insert the right 'mmmhmm's. She didn't seem to think I was ignoring her and I know that the Allison of today would endorse my decision to ignore most of what she talked about repeatedly. I even tried to read the books myself. I got through thirty percent of the first book, but the moment that the vampires all started to play baseball, I just couldn't.

Sometimes Maria would randomly pay me. Once a fifty, another a one hundred and once when she got her taxes back two-hundred dollars. I blew this money to enjoy my time with Allison. I would tread in the summer with Allison up this several mile meandering bike path to Hastings to buy books and hang out there drinking the coffee. It was all day walk to and back and it left me breathless. I sometimes would walk by the old alternative school, not to be a creep exactly but to see myself in a different perspective of being on the outside of that school, where somewhere in that building Mike was tutoring on the finer points of southern gothic fiction, or teaching his students about the rise of the Mongols. On the outside there was me, basically looking and feeling like a street person who was worlds now separated from that other world. People who saw me walking around looked at me like I was a bum. The girls my age always seemed so much prettier than me, so much more well kept. I wondered what I even was sometimes. I didn't feel like I demographically belonged anywhere.

I read Tortilla Flat by John Steinbeck, which I really appreciated the complex characters who seemingly seemed simplistic. What I appreciated about that short novel was the fact that high quality drama can and does take place with every walk of life, and at the same time, I was all very funny. The characters were simultaneously simplistic and would sometimes contemplate philosophy in a very real way without realizing. And I thought this was a beautiful notion and holds more truth to it. Complex ideas are not isolated to only the educated and rich. This stuff effects the poor just as much, even more so in some ways. Cinematic operas and romances of a lifetime take place in dingy bars in run down parts of town, in poorhouses, in trailer parks and huts and villages. Hollywood would have you believe that certain feelings and ideas are only explored in middle to upper class society. I read the book to Allison and sometimes just for fun, we would walk around with a jug of diet green tea in a big jug (the Arizona kind with the geisha on the front). And we would pretend that we were drinking the wine they drank all the time in Tortilla Flat. We would occasionally visit all-night gas stations and buy big liters of soda and talk until the sun came up.

I also read Lady Chatterley's lover. What drew me to this book was the front cover of this particular copy they were selling at Hastings that was a bit more expensive but the front cover was like a comic book sort of with the main characters lying in bed and from what I remember, discussing how their forbidden sexual meet ups were very interrelated to class warfare and the bourgeois. It was hilarious as it was intriguing and worth throwing a twenty dollar bill at. The books itself is a bit dry, but overall, when you get into the thick of it, it was actually pretty good. I think books in general are very interesting on how they reflect, narrate and follow the main characters and how they base the books. Sometimes you live deeply inside the narrator's mind. Sometimes you hear their recollections in a shallow way, and sometimes it's like they aren't really attached to their body at all, and they tell you only bits and pieces of what is happening around them and how they are feeling. D.H. Lawrence was likely a misogynistic ass (so many male writers of his time were), but at the same time he reflected on his main female character, Constance, in a way that expressed her as having a certain needs and desires and feelings about herself and the world around her individual from what men perceived her and her role in society. I thought it was very interesting that this book gave Constance some individuality, though in the end she did just switch from one man to the next. As for the things about the books that caused it to be banned. It was mostly softcore porn scenes where they intertwined flowers in one another's pubic hair and other rather innocent gestures that I am sure the people of the time thought was beyond vile.

When Roxanne and Jeremy received their tax money that year, they decided to of course spend it on all the meth and coke and pills and alcohol they could get their hands on, but also go on a camping trip with their drugs on hand. They bought a bunch of camping gear as well, and told Allison and David to come with, that it would be a lot of fun. Not realizing what this was going to look like for them, they went along. The trip would take about three days, and the camp grounds were about ten miles out of town. The offer had been extended to me as well, but I had to babysit. Initially I felt left out a little bit, though later I was incredibly relieved I didn't have to go. This is how the trip went, according to how I remember it. Of course, it's second hand so some of the events and specific details might be slightly off.

This trip soon became a nightmare to everyone minus Roxanne and Jeremy. Roxanne and Jeremy took all the blankets and had their own tent and kept Meliah who was a toddler by now, with them. Everybody else had to share a tent. This meant Roxanne's four kids and Allison and David had to somehow stuff themselves into a tent and sleep in it, which of course nobody fit. There wasn't enough blankets to go around. Jeremy and Roxanne were mostly interested in drinking and doing drugs. Most of the snacks and drinks they did buy went for Roxanne and Jeremy. There were no rules anymore, save what Jeremy had to say. By day one, all of the kids were starving and thirsty, Allison and David being included. Jeremy had Sagen and Roxanne massaging his feet in his hair at all times, and he tried to force Allison to fan him. There was clearly something very sexually inappropriate about the way he made his stepdaughter and tried to force Allison to do this for him.

Allison is a much more forward person than me, and she never did get enough credit for her depth. People have always seen her as chatty and sometimes superficial in her interests and didn't care to see her hardcore leadership potential or her ability to read the situations she was in. David, having no rules began to instantly take to a very Lord of the Flies approach and started acting horrendous, randomly deciding to side with Roxanne and Jeremy. He started calling Allison a slut, a cunt, and a bitch whenever he could. He had this look of stressed confusion on his face. I think attacking Allison was his way of feeling like he was in control. Jeremy and Roxanne were completely out of it drunk for much of the time, and would come back to the tent screaming hysterically at one another in a frightening manner. At one point another camper punched Jeremy in the face. By day two there was no more water for the kids, and Jeremy refused to go into town to buy anymore or share any of the supply that he had. Allison was very headstrong in this situation. She shared what she had with the kids, and demanded that Jeremy do something, but he wouldn't of course. Jeremy started making comments about how he was going to fuck Allison. It was beyond disgusting and had I been there I would have lost it. He said it in front of Roxanne who did nothing, and the kids. Allison called him a disgusting ugly pervert and that she couldn't wait till he went back to prison. Which enraged him and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to beat her to death. Allison is a very brave person.

David was desperate too, but given the situation he had pretty much lost his mind completely, either because he felt he was free to act out as he wanted, or because he too was starving and thirsty. In any case, the entire camp by the end of day two was totally hostile to Allison, as though she was now the cause of sleeping cold at night, and the shortage of basic food and water. Everyone was mosquito bitten and sunburned. There was no way for my siblings to get a hold of our father. It was far too out in the middle of nowhere for reception to work, and besides nobody had a cellphone anyway. Some neighboring campers who were also sort of lousy human beings, but at least willing to act like human beings, gave Allison and the kids what they could for water. They looked very concerned about the camp and though didn't quite want to ruin their own camping experience by calling the police or at least getting a hold of my father, they did seem to be considering it. It felt like something really bad was going to happen even to people who weren't directly involved.

David started acting out aggressively to Allison. They were by the lake, and when Allison refused to listen to him about something or other, and he decided to attack her. He started screaming in psychotic rage that he was going to murder Allison, and he began to chase her. Visions of Lord of the Flies come to mind so hard. Allison had to run for her life exhausted starved and thirsty. She ran for miles until David didn't chase her anymore, and she was exhausted. She decided she had to get out of there. Jeremy and Roxanne were acting as though they were going to tie her up or something, and David promised to bludgeon Allison to death or drown her. Eventually, she saw their van coming down the road, and she hid behind some bushes. They were screaming her name, and they looked raving mad. When she could, she started heading to the small store again. She had about three dollars, and when she eventually got there she asked to use their phone, but they refused. So she bought something to drink and she siphoned it down in one setting. She sat down, so exhausted she couldn't move anymore.

Jeremy and Roxanne eventually drove up to her, and when she refused to get into the van, they grabbed her by her arms and legs and shoved her back in against her will, David being a key helper. Everyone was telling Allison she was crazy and that she had ran away for nothing and that they had all been very nice to her. Jeremy seemed to still be fuming about how she had called him a gross pervert. He wanted some kind of revenge. But my father was supposed to pick Allison up that very same day, in fact they could have left Allison there to wait for him. They dragged her back to the camp and forced her to stay put. Jeremy acted as though he didn't now want to let Allison go back to our dad, as though he wanted to extract some additional revenge upon her. She started getting the feeling that he wanted to rape her.

In the end though, they delivered Allison and David back to my father at the appointed time and place. Allison was shaking and delusionally frustrated by this time and fatigued, and as soon as she saw my father she ran up to him crying and held onto him like a small child. Roxanne gave some half ass remark about how there had been problems and then drove away. David looked confused and frightened, so much like the boys at the end of Lord of the Flies once they had gotten themselves into that fervor. He made some mental pact with himself that the entire thing had never happened. Allison told my father about all of it. He believed it and though he knew he would never be letting Roxanne take any of his children again, he at the same time was up to his eyeballs stressed about trying to set up the pedicure shop with Trish, who was already losing interest in their relationship and was making notions that he should now just give her the shop.

When I heard about Allison's nightmare camping trip and heard about the extent that everyone had basically gotten to, I decided I never wanted to see Jeremy Frye again. I would never visit. It was too much. I would still talk to Roxanne and her kids, but if Jeremy was present I didn't want to be around. I started thinking it might be best if Roxanne lost her kids. I hated to think that, but given just how horrific things had gone to, I didn't know that there was any way I could see it differently. I wanted Roxanne to get clean and leave Jeremy, but if she wasn't going to do that immediately, I thought it would be for the best if she lost her kids. Jody was a shitty father and not my favorite person, but I didn't really worry about him killing anyone. I began talking to my mom about calling CPS on Roxanne and Jeremy. My mother is not a great person, but somewhere in her chaotic little brain, she had boundaries. She certainly didn't want to see any of her grandchildren violently murdered, or Roxanne for that matter. Roxanne and Jeremy had recently gotten into another low income apartment, and we both agreed to see what happened next.

As for David, I just didn't feel like I could trust him anymore. I felt like there were two David's. One of them I knew and the other I didn't at all. When things were good with David, they were very good. He was considerate, thoughtful careful about being fair, and smiling and happy. And then he wasn't any of those things. He was violent and wanted to really hurt you. He must have been tackling some intense emotional issues. He went farther than I ever went when I had been messed up at his age. But I did see the comparisons between him and I and I had to take it into consideration. Cruel and sadistic human behavior gets a little more confusing when you exclude the notion that someone is a sociopath. But as for day to day living, I no longer trusted David. I believed that he was capable of extreme violence and believing his own lies. I wanted him to get help, but as I have mentioned, neither one of my parents were willing to face what was happening to him to get him the help he needed. This left me in a state where I had to distance myself from him and stop seeing him as someone I could trust. I feared for Allison whenever she was alone with him. You never knew when he might snap. And once at Maria's house, he ended up shoving Allison down and trying to choke her in front of Maria's kids when I happened to not be there one day. When Allison told me stuff like this, I could feel these chills of instant rage go across my skin.

I was very attached to Maria's kids. I could tell that the kids really needed me. And yet, I felt like I had to go. I didn't feel very free and the fact that I was so relied upon was making me feel even more trapped. I tried to talk to Maria about it, but she started screaming and crying when I did that. I asked her to ask the Mormon church if they knew someone who could help. It was difficult, but they found a woman who was willing to stay at Maria's house overnight to watch the kids. She had a license and was trained by the state to babysit, so it would have been relatively cheap for Maria to pay this woman. But Maria said no. The reason that Maria refused this woman's rare and generous position to help Maria and be employed in the process was because this woman was black, and Maria is a racist and she didn't want her children to be 'exposed'. Which soured things for me, and my compassion for Maria's situation went south. Maria was in no position to be choosy, but apparently she would rather lose her home and let her life fall apart than have a black person working in her home with her kids. I fucking hate racism, and a part of me didn't want to see Maria at all after that. If her kids hadn't have been involved, I might have quit then and there.

I tried once again to tell her I was done. I had worked for about four or five months at her place. She refused to acknowledge my resignation however and pretended that it never had occurred, and I felt weird about just leaving the kids. I had brought so much stability to their lives. Ian wasn't getting any better, but I never suspected he really would. I loved little Chantelle. Jasmine and I had always been close. During my summer at Maria's, I had watched just about every episode of Little House on the Prairie, the theme song blasting in my psyche as I write this. JT was kind of an odd little boy, but I liked him well enough and had to be treated a special way as he seemed to be having some developmental issues. But Maria was taking advantage of me, like she does everyone around her. Eventually, my father agreed to tell her for me. I knew she would see my father as a position of authority, and since she didn't respect the authority I had over myself, I had him do it. Maria got the picture then. I told her I would babysit for one more month for her, just to give her some extra time. She'd already had plenty of time, and hadn't had any problems turning someone away already, so I wasn't going to be any easier on her than I had to be. Naturally, she lost her mind on me. She told me I was the reason her dreams never would come true, that I had ruined her life. She then walked to the window, and looked out forlorn, and lamented her future in a way that I coyly noted was contrived and meant to convey some theatrical sadness.

Over that last month, Maria stopped buying me food as punishment for my departure, and I lost twelve pounds. Allison would come to visit, and I would share one small box of riceroni with her a day, which I didn't mind doing because I truly enjoyed her company. I didn't know what life would bring me next. I guess I just felt this sense that none of this stuff could last forever. One evening, after Maria had taken part in this very immature back and forth with Ian in which they all threw shoes at one another (it was embarrassing seeing Maria getting drawn into this childish exchange), Maria told me she didn't want her kids anymore and she was going to find a way to get rid of them. I didn't know if she was to be taken seriously or not. I just listened and said nothing. But it really stuck with me.

Eventually, I got out of Maria's. My father helped me move out of there. Roxanne was gone from the house now, so I figured I could resume my life at my mother's for whatever that was worth. I was told however, that David kind of ran the show now, and if I lived there I would have to steer clear of him. My mother told me that, and so did Allison. It seemed strange to me that a twelve year old boy 'ran the show', and I mostly dismissed it, though I knew it was definitely true. As for steering clear of him, I already did that.

I stayed in Kendrick for a few days at my father's that late summer/early fall. I decided to take an evening stroll downtown for some exercise. Just as I was turning the corner of the sidewalk below my house I bumped into Jason. For those who don't know or remember, Jason had been one of my friends in high school. He had gotten kicked out for drugs and theft. And when I had been a lot younger, Jason had meant a lot to me. I had seen him around off and on since high school, as he occasionally did work for Sarah's mom in her garden area. I also happened to know that he has stolen my father's kayak from his property the year before, which ended up being found down the creak somewhere downstream. Jason had probably stolen it while drunk in an attempt to have some kind of fun boating experience that went terribly no doubt once he got in the boat and found it was not capable of getting through shallow rapids and he just abandoned it and waded out.

I had known Jason had been doing drugs like meth. But from what I had heard, he had been doing a lot better. He was on probation again and his girlfriend helped him stay relatively clean – minus marijuana of course. The moment Jason saw me he came up to me and gave me a warm heartfelt hug. His eyes were gleeful, and he was so genuinely stoked and very glad to see me. It was strange being in the presence of someone who was that happy to see me. He laughed at everything I said, and wanted me to tell him all about what I had been up to. He told me I looked happier than I had in school. This might have been in part because I was now blonde rather than dark haired, but even with all the fatalistic depression I felt, I guess nothing really had compared to the misery of being fourteen in the Kendrick high school, when I had been too young to reflect on what I was feeling and why. I had learned to smile more, perhaps even in self defense against what life threw at me. We talked for about ten minutes before Jason told me he had a bowl of weed he couldn't wait to smoke with his girlfriend, and he went on up the hill.

I never saw Jason again. He blew his brains out four months later. Nobody knew if it was a suicide or not. On one hand, he had been at times morbidly depressed, even in the times I knew him he had acted out and said very suicidal thoughts that he had. Everyone knew he was a risk. And he had just gotten in a fight with his girlfriend. On the other hand, it didn't seem like it was done on purpose entirely. He was in the yard messing with his rifle, drunk, and perhaps it had been loaded and he had not realized it as he made the fatal error of pulling the trigger. Either story seems equally plausible, but considering he was in front of both his girlfriend and Tammy (my father's local ex)'s now ten year old son Troy out in the front yard, it seems to me like it might have been more of an accident.

In any case, after Sarah called me up with the bad news, I cried myself to sleep. Jason had once been a friend that I valued very much. It seemed weird to me that he had died. I didn't end up going to his funeral. His funeral was filled with a lot of locals who had always hated him and whom he had always hated. It seemed really phony and put on because he died when he was twenty-two so everyone felt incensed to see themselves in the story somehow. I didn't want to go to something like that. Instead I took a walk.

PART 69 - https://tinyurl.com/yb7d8van

PART 68 - https://tinyurl.com/y8faedzp

PART 67 - https://tinyurl.com/y9lfdsop

PART 66 - https://tinyurl.com/y87dzx7z

PART 65 - https://tinyurl.com/yb22o6rv

PART 64 - https://tinyurl.com/y98zxljs

PART 63 - https://tinyurl.com/ybosu235

PART 62 - https://tinyurl.com/ybjrvccn

PART 61 - https://tinyurl.com/ybm99k8o

My Life Story in Chapters, PARTS 1-60 (this link below will lead you to a list of all the chapters i have written thus far). 

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/168782771574/life-story-sections-1-60