#pack rat chit chat

[yalocalrfaircityreporter]

Ooooof I haven't used this blog in a fat while, tho I just realized I haven't shared somethin that I think many Wordgirl fans will like :3

I'm also thinking of using this as an archive blog moreso than a "new find" blog, especially since finding stuff can be haaard (my pack rat skills are getiing rusty aheh)

[midnightmoonkiss]

Modern Au! Albedo would definitely be a physicist with a minor in astrophysics and geology that probably works for some massive science program like NASA. Of course he likes chemistry too since part of physics is chemistry.

Think Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory big brains, definitely doesn’t have his personality though.

Probably has 2 PHD’s too.

His intelligence is scary, but he’s not an obnoxious nerd.

But hey, big brains are attractive right?

I imagine he also fiddles in engineering/mechanics just because he’s a tech genius at heart and loves to create little gadgets.

He’s practically ALWAYS working, and yet somehow he still has energy to babysit his baby sister Klee (Albedo was an orphan who got adopted at age 16, a few years later, Klee was also adopted) and go out on dates with you.

He always smells fresh, definitely uses coconut shampoo, he showers like twice a day. Bit of a clean freak but a complete pack-rat.

His hair is always messy and he has this genius air to him, but he’s sweet! His clothes have cute little science-themed buttons. Probably lugs around a backpack most days.

Runs off of caffeine, coffee, redbull, monster, whatever will give him the energy he needs to finish this experiment or review notes.

He may be smart, but he uh, he’s not that good at holding conversations with people. He doesn’t have many friends haha.

How he became friends with you?? Classic Wattpad story, you were one of the barista’s at his favorite Café near the lab. You’d chit chat with him while he scribbled notes down at the bar.

You were pleasant to talk to.. some people have annoying voices (Kaeya) but yours? It’s nice. It pleased his ears.

Of course, he was a dork. He had no idea why he felt a pull towards you. He was practically a social outcast for most of his life, so he’s never had a s/o before let alone felt these emotions.

He’s like a jittery deer, so cute.

For your first date, he took you to a bunch of science museums, ones he’s been to before so he can info dumb and answer any question you may have (he was trying to show off..cute).

Sometimes, though, his exhaustion catches up with him. The second he flops down on his couch, his whole body aches.. almost instinctively he calls you, just wanted to hear your soothing voice.

It’s pretty easy to tell when he wants to see you without explicitly asking, so you head right over!! Pick up his favorite dinner pls, probably likes sushi ?? Orange chicken enthusiast.

Man, cuddling with you after a long day where it feels like his soul was sucked out of his body and his bones feel like stone?? Therapy. He’s in heaven. Falls asleep within minutes.

Boy just needs a break.

Smooch that forehead.

He’s so cute. Just a cute little physicist who’s salary is out of this world and who loves you very very much.

[taterswithranch]

Little Thief

A little oneshot with Dex and Jazzy :3

It was the first time Dexter had been outside in a month. He had spent that time recovering with the help of an owl woman named Jasmine. He was by no means in tip-top shape, but he was significantly healthier than he was before Jasmine took him in, the cruelties of eighteen years on the streets only beginning to fade.

Jasmine had needed to retrieve a few items at the local convenience store, and she had offered Dexter to go with her. He agreed, figuring it would be better than staying inside for another day. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Jasmine’s house, or that he didn’t appreciate her hospitality. But he couldn’t stand to look at the same rooms and hallways any longer. Even a trip as mundane as this one was better than nothing.

The owl woman had found everything she needed, some office supplies and a carton of milk, and proceeded to the checkout. She had begun to make idle chit chat with the cashier, apparently a student that often visited her library. Dexter was left to stand beside her, his tail swishing impatiently around his ankles.

He didn’t like how white the walls were, how fake the floor felt under his feet, or how orderly and straight everything was set up. This whole place made his skin crawl. Even the floors of Jasmine’s house were made of wood, with warm, autumnal colours illuminating every room. There was some sense of organization, but not as rigid and uniform as this. Her house felt more alive than this nightmare of a building.

Dexter had started to zone out, so it took him a moment to realize that the two had stopped talking. He looked up and saw Jasmine’s hand held out to him. A calm and patient smile was on her face. Dexter cocked his brow. “What?”

Jasmine tilted her head knowingly. “Would you like to give me those mini donuts?”

Dexter looked as confused as ever. “What donuts?”

“The ones you’re hiding in your pocket.” The cashier stiffened.

“I don’t know what you’re even talking about,” Dexter insisted. “I don’t have any donuts.”

Jasmine’s smile widened. “Mini donuts. Powdered. Aisle six.” Dexter hoped the sweat on his brow wasn’t noticeable. Of course she noticed. She was trained to notice everything. “Care to hand them over?” She inched her hand closer.

“I… I don’t…” Dexter saw the cashier’s eyes grow larger, a look of pure disgust on their face. He looked back at Jasmine, and she still had that infuriatingly calm smile. He bit his lip, finally giving in with a defeated sigh. He fished out the small pack of mini powdered donuts and pressed them into Jasmine’s palm.

“Thank you!” she said cheerfully.

Dexter looked down at the floor with his shoulders hunched, a knot forming in his stomach. His face flushed a dark blue, his skin becoming hot. He cursed under his breath. At himself for getting caught. At Jasmine for noticing and ratting him out. How did she even know? Her back was turned! He tried to make himself smaller, hoping by some random chance that he would melt into the floor and disappear. He clenched and unclenched his hands in his pockets, waiting for Jasmine to reprimand him, to shout at him, grab him by the tendrils and drag him out of the store, tell him how bad he is and just how disappointed she was in him.

“These too, please!” Dexter flinched and jerked his head up. Jasmine held the donuts out to the cashier, who shared the same shocked expression Dexter did. But they hesitantly obliged, slowly taking the donuts and placing them with the rest of Jasmine’s purchases. They handed the bags to her. “Thank you!” She gave a small wave to the cashier. “Let’s go home, Dex!” She beckoned him to follow. Dexter trotted alongside her, looking back at the still bewildered cashier.

Once the two were outside, Jasmine dug through the bag and retrieved the donuts. “Here!” She held them out to him.

Dexter looked disbelievingly at the small package in her hand. Then, his gaze turned up towards Jasmine. “I-I don’t understand…”

Jasmine smiled endearingly. “You wanted them, right?”

“Well, yeah, but I tried to steal them. Isn’t that, I don’t know, bad?” From the years of being chased out of stores and hit over the head with a broom, Dexter was fairly certain people didn’t like when their things were taken from them.

Jasmine nodded. “Yes, it is. But I think you learned your lesson.” Her smile widened, full of compassion and sincerity. “Dex, you don’t have to steal, y’know. If you want something, I’ll get it for you.” She opened the plastic and pressed it into Dexter’s open palm.

The digidevil eyed the donuts, his gaze flicking towards Jasmine then back at his treats. Finally, he slowly reached into the packaging and bit the side of the donut, white powder smeared over his mouth. He hummed contentedly, his tail wagging behind him.

The owl woman held her hand for him to take. “Let’s go home.”

Home. The word was still unfamiliar to him. But he accepted her hand, accumulating more and more powdered sugar on his face as he followed.

———

He had been given a second chance a week later. Jasmine was going back to the convenience store and offered Dexter to go with her. He accepted.

Walking back down the same aisles, the familiar packaging of his favourite treat caught his eye. A small pack of six mini powdered donuts.

He looked up at Jasmine walking ahead. Her back was turned to him. He looked back at the donuts, a raging desire in his white eyes. They called out to him. He couldn’t help but reach his hand out to take what was his.

Jasmine turned her attention to the tugging at her sleeve. Dexter held the packet of donuts out to her.

“Um, Jazzy, can I get these?” he asked her, his voice small and timid. He fidgeted with the hem of his jacket, his eyes wide and hopeful with a tinge of anticipation. “Please?”

Jasmine smiled endearingly and nodded. “Of course!” She took the donuts and placed them in her basket along with the rest of her items. Dexter visibly brightened, his tail swishing along the floor.

He followed her to the checkout.

[brandonwayneb]

💪🏽 Sir Tan Lee (Certainly Elite)

🎃 Pumpkin Repeat 🔂

TAN SAND PROMISE HEALTHY COMMONS

TAN SAND HEALTHY PROMISE LANDS

Healthy Tan, Sand, and Land

Gock at feet 🦶🏽

Talk at taco 🌮

Car Park 🚗 🚙 at toys r us breakroom pendulum (Pen Jew Lum)

🐸⚙️ Leapfrog toy at

Barbie Desk Babble 👱🏼‍♀️⌨️🐝 💾🗃️🗄️

Homeless Camps ⛺️ War Revamps 🧛🏼‍♂️🧛🏼‍♂️🧛🏼‍♂️

Slander Camps ⛺️ slander campaigns

Death ☠️ Rollercoaster 🎢 Psy Show, Sideshow Circus 🎪 Clown 🤡 Hospital 🏥

X O X O XOXO death hugs 🐻 🧸 🤑

BEAR NEEDLES 💉🐻🍯🤑

BARB BAR CODE KNUCKLES 💉🐻🍯🤑

Storm ⛈️ Run Hurricane 🌀 Rod Slave Ron, “Micro Wave Work Arrons”

“Baby Bid Bib Babs Babble Bunny 🐰 bibs”

Corky Wine 🍷 Raffle Ticket 🎟️ Dollar 💵 Bills Nut Number Money 💰 Euro 💶 Rope Velvet Vatican’s Popes by the throats.

Make them think of an “old billy goat 🐐”

Make them think of an “old ham bone 🦴”

Make them think of an “old dolly lama” 🐪🦙

Make them think of an “oak mill momma” 🐄

Make them all a “PIE OAK TEA” hebrew basket

🧠🧺🪺🦠🍗💩👁️🥧🦢🏭

Paper Islands 🏝️ 🤑💲💸

Goose Factorties RE SET 🦢 “Micro Foe Bets”

"pringle chips" 🍪 🤖 ☠️🦮👩‍🦯👩‍🦯👩‍🦯👩‍🦯🙈

"celery sticks" 🍾🥒 green pizza 🤑🧩🪲🍕

“work over stage actor down codes”

🤡🧢 pringle chips 🍪

🤡🧢 celery sticks 🥒

towels 🧼 🚿 🧖🏻‍♀️🧖🏽‍♂️🧖🏽🧖🏽🧖🏻‍♀️🧖🏽‍♂️

towels are for heads

TOWELS AND VOWS

not

“tow truck pow sights”

👘🥻👳🏽‍♀️👳🏽👳🏽‍♂️👳🏽👳🏽‍♀️👳🏽👳🏽

🤍🤎

Vows dont "total" 🙏🏽

Vow’s Life Vows

ALWAYS TWO types of vows.

✌🏽🙏🏽💞🙏🏽 ✌🏽

not for talcum powder ❌🥤❄️🍧

not for baking soda ❌🥤❄️🍧

"Tow Cum Powder" 👩🏾‍🍳👩🏾‍🍳👩🏾‍🍳👩🏾‍🍳

"Bake Soda" 🧑🏿‍🍳🧑🏿‍🍳🧑🏿‍🍳🧑🏿‍🍳

Tow Truck "VOW TOTAL" tricks

🛻🛻🛻🛻🛻🛻🛻

🚛🚛🚛🚛🚛🚛🚛

🚚🚚🚚🚚🚚🚚🚚

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Office BreakRoom Rubber Slipper Water Cooler

🥿 🩴🛼👟👡 💧🚰

Chit Chat 💬 📍📌🧷🦀🦆🤏🏼

Office Water Coolers. 🥸🚾🚰

Seals 🦭🌪️🪵

Sharks 🦈 🌪️🪵

Dolphins 🐬 🌪️ 🪵

Statue of Liberty, swimming pool 🏊‍♀️ 🍕🌭🗽

🍌🏦 Bloods Bank Brooklyn New York 🅱️📚

Brooklyn Baby Chair Sitter New York 👼🏽💺

“Sitting The Statue Of Liberty In A Chair”

🎢😵‍💫🎬💇🏼‍♀️💀☠️💈💺🪑🦼🦽💈☠️💀🏴‍☠️

asian sushi Yorky husky minx cash spa sinks

YORKY DOG 🐕

HUSKY DOG 🐕

POODLE DOG 🐩

“The Three Horsemen”

Hay Bell 🍴🛎️

Hate Bell 👺🛎️

Meet Bell 🥩🛎️

Burger Bell 🍔🛎️

Excel Axe Cell Gang Desk Crew

😵‍💫👩🏼‍🚒👨🏿‍🚒🧑🏼‍🚒👨🏿‍🚒🪓🛎️

“Except, Axe Ace Front Desk Holding”

🪓♠️♥️♣️♦️🃏📇🪪💳🪓🛎️

Hotel 🏨 Holding Desk Tricks

“Hotel Management Teams”

“Creating Multiple Paper Front Clone Companies”

“Hotel Super Mall Complex Spreaders”

Corruption sources

“Tow Truck Fruit Markets”

“Hotel Micro Mega Management Malls”

Truck 🛻 Farm 🚜 Stolen Life Resources

Through Corrupt Business Front Line SILVER DISH LINES

Service on “a silver platter” dome head

🐟📐👨🏻‍🦳🪙🍽️

👴🏻🧓🏼💉💸🤑🦠🧬🦠🦢🐀🐭🐹

“cell retarding TAR RAT GLUE GOOSEBUMPS”

white blue yellow, cell a fella

TAR, RAT, devert blame to Japan 🇯🇵 and Jamaica 🇯🇲 PAY RIOT PARROTS 🦜

To blame PIE RATES… PIE RATS

🥧 🐀 💩

Blame SEA RAFT, DRAFT

WINDY SAILS Cash Boats 🛥️ 🚤 🛶

Blame a black “rat shit axe ratchet hatchet”

HAT 👒 HAT 🎩 NAT NAT NIT NIT BLANKET BIT “black hats” “black HAIR ASS”

“black harassment”

“envy in voice”

“invoice receipt PIE 🥧 recEIPt 🧾”

Paper Puppet Office Pets

💃🏽👫🧍🏽‍♂️🪡🧾 PEN DAY HOSTS

PEN DAY HOPES

PEN DAY HOES

PEN DAY ROPES

Velvet Ropes Wet Newpaper 🅾️🅱️🅾️🩸📰🗞️

white covers

“bioluminescence ectoplasm”

“episode napkin fanny pack raffle ticket eater”

Reviving Health Ethics

🦜 Parrot Veterans (NON Pirate slanders)

🦜 Parrot Truth Speakers

🦜 Parrot Boy Scouts, not “COT” abuse

Reviving “Pet Parrots”

of “PAY RIOTS”

or of “Pay Rabbits”

Parrot 🦜

Rabbit 🐇

Additionally Inclusive RABBI, 👁️ 🐰 👂🏽👂🏽

Rabbi Healthy Prayers 🙏🏽

Dj Rabbit 🐰 With Armor Headphones 🎧

🎶🎶🎧🐰🎧🎶🎶

Emerald Teal Green

Ruby Roxy Red

🍀 ☘️

Clover Irish Welsh Celtic

Distinguish RED health, separately than “WHITE” X parties

Such as DENOUNCE racists “white only”

“america germany england”

“blue white yellow”

🔵♿️🧢

⚪️🦴🥼

🟡🍋🧅

Sarcastic Sar Cast Stick 🐟 ironic ion RON tick

Promote TV 📺 SILVER REMOTE

“WHITE NOISE” “Stereotype foam”

White Micro Management Genocide Systems

“Micro Management”

“Micro Mysteria Hysteria”

“Micro MICE Hysteria”

“Micro NICE MICE” 🐁 Head lice Snow Globe

“Micro His Stare ER area”

“Micro Management STARE ER”

“MY CODE, Micro”

“MY CODE MIKE”

“MY CODE MIKE SKULL”

“NYC CODE TIME TRICK”

“MY COOL CODE”

“MY COM MODE”

“MY TOLIET COMODE”

“MY CO MODE”

“Micro Code STARE ER AREA”

“Hysteria Mysteria”

Stare at hostile hospital victims with “sub”

“subtle” “sub til” knowledge…

“Micro My Code Mike’s Skull”

“america germany england”

🇺🇸🇩🇪🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

1 hop, and two skips, down blaming “jumbled bumbled history inaccuracies, cover ups”

jumble bumbled

belongs to, “open the jungle book”

not “blackjack casino front backdoors”

change “blackjack market” into

“white backdoor trip wires”

and then you open “black ectoplasm”

“play puss at them”

“murders and cats fighting old women”

“black EVE”

“black ECHO STOW”

“black echo STOVE”

“black echo X COVE”

“black TOW TRUCK”

“black etch-a-Sketch shuffle soundboard”

that should help, the “black lions roar”

“getting past WHITE ONLY CELL LAB doors”

dont do CHEAT TESTS CHEAT TAS 🐆

Yellow Cat is white money sick cat…

dont so PAN THORE 〰️⚫️

pants 👖 naked black ass

Pan cat is white money sick bed cats

Beds and FOG THORN firsts…

Just do JAMAICA RAINBOW PARROT 🦜

and work over criminal activity that relates to

“rats, hamsters, gerbils, and GOOSE GEESE.”

and “bears, polar bears grizzle frizzle bears”

Reject “rats, hamsters, gerbils, geese goose, and bears.”

and theres no longer white proceedings if we ALL keep healthy ProLife99.

And reject the “false white elitism biological public genocide narratives.”

[whatyouandihave-makesmefree]

How to say “I love you” without actually saying it - or 137 Milkovichy ways to say “I fuckin’ love Ian Clayton Gallagher”.

1. Kiss me, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.

2. I’ll meet you there in 20.

3. You say that again, I’ll rip your tongue out of your head.

4. Take your hand off the glass.

5. You wanna chit chat more or you wanna get on me?

6. Fuckin’ tough guy, huh?

7. Jesus Christ, you want us to spread a blanket out and look for shooting stars next?

8. Sorry, I gotta go kill your dad, but I’m doing a lot of people a favor, including you.

9. -I missed you-  You did?  -Yeah, man.-

10. So, uh, what you going down for, then, huh?

11. Don’t know what you see in that geriatric viagroid.

12. -You fuck anyone in there yet?-  God, no.  -Wise choice.-

13. Hey, my dad took my brothers on a run out of town for a couple days, so you wanna ditch that dump and crash at my place, you can.

14. Fuck you, is what you were invited to.

15. What are you hoping, I tell you not to go? I’m gonna chase after you like some bitch?

16. -Don’t.-  Don’t what?  -Just…-

17. -You seen him?-  Why do you care?  -Don’t.-

18. You heard from Gallagher?

19. Not fucking Frank. The other one, the redhead.

20. I like fucking carrot-tops, like, with the freckles and the pale skin and fucking alien-looking.

21. He in trouble? What kind of trouble?

22. You wearing cologne?  -No. It’s Kenyatta’s perfume soap shit.-

23. I gotta take care of something important.

24. No, I’m not having fun. I spent the whole day looking for your coked-out ass.

25. You coming back?

26. I’ll do it.

27. Those fingers go anywhere near that cock, I’m gonna break every knuckle in your hand, all 15 of them.

28. Together.

29. That all you think he is? Some twink?

30. Probably best if you don’t, tough guy.

31. Of course we are.

32. You want me to go?  -No, I don’t want you to go.-

33. I’m not lying to you.

34. Ian, what you and I have makes me free, not what these assholes know.

35. Well, good. Leave. What the hell do I care, bitch? Fuck.

36. Hey! Excuse me! Can I get everybody’s attention, please? I just want everybody here to know I’m fucking gay. A big old ‘mo. I just thought everybody should know that. You happy now?

37. Fuck you! Don’t worry about it! I’ve been staying at Ian’s since you’ve been in the can, bitch! Guess what we’ve been doing, daddy! We’ve been fucking! And I take it! He gives it to me good and hard, and I fucking like it.

38. You’re a fucking dick. Yeah, there. That’s what you get.

39. You love him?  -Maybe. I don’t know.-  Because he has a real penis?  -Yeah, I guess.-

40. Rise and fucking shine, Cinderella.

41. Yo, sleepy-face.

42. Hey, you okay? Feeling sick or something?

43. All right, you want me to bring you back something to eat?

44. Ian, are you high? You take something?

45. Fuck’s wrong with him?

46. Before, he was fine. He was happy. He’s staying up all hours of the night, dancing, telling fucking jokes. He kicks my ass every day. I can’t keep up with him.

47. No, no, look. He– he’s low… We cheer him up.

48. What do you mean, hos– Like a psych ward? No fucking way! No fucking way! He’s staying here.

49. I can– I can take care of him. Okay? Let me take care of him until he’s better.

50. Don’t fucking tell me what’s impossible! We’re taking care of him here. You, me, us. His fucking family.

51. He’s not going to some fucking nut house. You hear me? He stays here. He’s staying with me.

52. I’ll be there.  -Better be.-

53. All right. I guess I’m going with you.

54. She’ll send him to a fucking shrink. No. We fix this ourselves.

55. I came out for you, you piece of shit.

56. What’s your type?  -Redhead.-  I am downstairs.  -Batshit crazy.-  Check.  -Packing 9 inches.-

57. I got to take you to a hospital, Ian.

58. I’m worried about you.

59. His partner. Lover? Family? You know?

60. At least he’ll be getting some kind of fucking help.

61. Relationship to the patient?  -Sister.-   -You?-  -Uh, boyfriend.-

62. Hey. Sorry I’m late.

63. We gotta get you to a fucking clinic. Get some meds. Today.

64. Hey, it’s okay. It’s all right.

65. He’s not a fucking lab rat.

66. He’s got me.

67. Hey, Ian’s sleeping in there.

68. All right, breakfast of champs. We got your mood stabilizer, anti-psychotic, anti-depressant. Gatorade.

69. Shut the fuck up. Take the pills, bitch.

70. Hey, no caffeine on your meds.

71. Eat it. Take all those pills on an empty stomach and you’re going to have diarrhea real bad.

72. I didn’t know which Bs to get, so I just got all the fucking Bs. I got B-complex, super B-complex, B-12, B-6.

73. The hell happened to your hand?

74. Did a doctor take care of that?

75. You can’t go anywhere unless you get that looked at, man.

76. Your hand, man.

77. No, no. Look, you’re not supposed to drink on lithium. It makes your blood fucking toxic, and it gets you hammered in like two seconds flat. You can’t-

78. You look like a fucking wet rat.

79. We’re going on a date.  -Fuck, yes, we are.-

80. Where the fuck are you?

81. Where the fuck you been? 

82. You okay?

83. It means we take care of each other.

84. It means thick and thin, good times, bad, sickness, health, all that shit.

85. You look good.

86. Got a new tattoo. Did it myself. Hurt like a son of a bitch.

87. Been thinking about you. You ever think of me? Gonna wait for me?

88. Will you? Wait?

89. You like the high school bleachers? Our spot, man.

90. Look, I’m, um I’m getting some new IDs, some cash, and heading to Mexico.-  Wow.  -You should come.-

91. Thought a lot about you inside. You’re under my skin, man. The fuck can I do? Hmm? Can I do?

92. Knew you’d come. 

93. Come here.

94. I’m gonna see you again?

95. The fuck you looking at?

96. It’s what kept me going in the joint. The beach. Us.

97. Oh, check it out. Ian Gallagher putting his big boy pants on!

98. You never fucking visited me.

99. What am I leaving behind? My family? Who cares I never see those shitheads again. You had my back more than they ever did.

100. You ever think about me? When I was in the joint?

101. Fuck, I missed you.

102. What the fuck is that? I don’t want your fucking money! I want you to come with– me.

103. Don’t do this.

104. Fuck you, Gallagher.

105. I rolled on the cartel I was working for, and in exchange, guess who gets to pick where he gets locked up?

106. No, I just did it ‘cause it was the right thing.

107. Would you be fucking happy?  -Yes, fuck, yes!-

108. I guess I need some advice. It’s about my partner, Ian.

109. You’re not throwing your fuckin’ parole for me. We need to get you the hell outta this shit-hole.

110. You don’t belong in here, Gallagher.

111. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.

112. FaceTime your brother. See the baby.

113. You seen Ian?

114. About time, man. Your Panda Express is getting cold.

115. Eat your Szechuan beans.

116. Chill your fucking tits and eat your noodles, man.

117. Let’s get out of here, get some Pinkberry.

118. No. No. I’m not running. I need to protect him.

119. Jesus Christ. You proposing to me over fucking patty melts?

120. Fuck it. I do.

121. When you know, you know. You know?

122. No, just saying you don’t love me enough now. And that’s fine. It’s cool.

123. Jesus Christ, save the fucking speech, you pussy. I’ll marry you. Of course I’ll fucking marry you.

124. You must really love cock.  -I definitely love one.-

125. You ever try to get me to move to Milwaukee, I’ll fuckin’ murder you.

126. Hey, I like the blue ones.  -Yeah?- 

127. You sure you still wanna go through with this?  -Yes. Why?-

128. You’re a sneaky bastard.

129. -Take your meds?-  Yes.  -Good.-

130. The son of a bitch is never gonna let me be happy. He needs to die today.

131. Well, there’s plenty of strays wandering around the neighborhood. I’m sure we can pick one up for cheap.

132. Yeah, well, at least I don’t have to hide in a coffin till the sun goes down.

133. Damn straight, Gallagher.

134. I, Mikhailo, take you, Ian, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health,  to love and to cherish you till death do us part.

135. Good morning, Mr - Millagher?

136. You hungry?

137. You wanna go again?  -Absolutely.-

[curlymantis]

aaaa pls tell me stuff abt your ocs they're all so cool!! 🥺💚

Omg I finally finished answering this!!!!! 👀👀

Farcry 5: Zoë Seed!!

Omg that’s me 😏 she was an entomologist checking out the cool insects of Hope county and unfortunately for her she doesn’t believe in private property when it comes to discovering nature. One day chosen find her trespassing on John seeds property. They think she’s a spy for the resistance as she has a camera, binoculars etc. They take her to the main church (conveniently was a Sunday) once service is over shes handed over to the father and himself and John go through her camera. They only find insect pictures and omg wow she’s not a spy. She’s indoctrinated into the cult and ends up eventually becoming John’s right hand of god 😌🙏 sinners who happen to be an extra annoyance go to her where she makes them confess in whatever way possible. Or they die in the process, whoops 💅🏻 She’s polyamorous with all of the seed siblings including Faith cos like come on now let’s be real they all crave and need loving. However she’s married to John Seed because that baby boy is everything 😤❤️ She also likes to do cult posters and help write songs and sing them cos it’s fun as hell. She is closest with John and Faith Seed specifically out of the 4 Seeds. Other cultists are scared of her, or is it respect? Hmm who knows 😌 She also tortures sinners for fun and chases them around the forest making them as shit scared as possible. Oops 😏

The Magnus Archives: is my oc who is an Avatar of the eye and Rayn Porter is my oc who a avatar of the corruption. They both have the same last name as they are both the same person just if they had gone down different entity routes in their life. I’ll talk about Rose first! (I also have an avatar of the flesh and the vast but I haven’t worked on them yet or got them ‘fully fleshed out’ 😏

Rose Porter: avatar of the Eye, marked by the stranger, the spiral and the vast.

From an early age Rose always felt the need to watch people, to know, to understand. As she got older these feelings only became stronger and she begins to stalk people, not because she finds that person special for any particular reason they just happened to look to long at her and she saw them doing so. That just sets something off In her so now they must be followed, acknowledged, understood and scrutinised (me self projecting right into my ocs 😌). She found the Magnus institute one day as she started stalking Rosie. when she had seen the woman walking into a large glorious building she knew something was off, like the itching feeling you get, the feeling in your gut, the sensation of something important. She did not know what had over come her to walk in the building so quickly as that would ruin her chances of learning further about this person who dared make her feel so uncomfortable. But there she was. She was hired immediately of course as a librarian, then moving on the be an archival assistant, shocking to her. But obviously not to Elias Bouchard who knew just how useful her alignment to his almighty beholder. To say she had a crush on him would be an understatement. She can’t explain it. Some would call infatuation, some would call it chemistry, but smart ones say it’s because they are both devotees to the eye and she is in so much deeper than she has ever anticipated or even realises 👀

Rayn Porter: avatar of the corruption, marked by the flesh, the lonely and the stranger.

Rayn despises people (same queen 🙄) they put animals on a higher level of respect than humans. The corruption took ahold of them as a young child, they would always follow and play with cockroaches as a child. However their mother was to say the least an unempathetic, transphobic and cruel woman to say the least. Rayn was raised in a household full of scrutiny, hate and fear. Because of this had very little friends as the only social interaction they knew was their bitch ass mother they turned to the ‘pests’ of their home. Whether these were the slugs and snails in the basement of their home, or they were the cockroaches, house centipedes and rats that dwelled in their attic. They loved and appreciated them all, but their was still something deeper to it. A deep rot had started to form in Rayn and they hated their mother and family. They hated them for how they had cast them aside for not being female, they hated them for all the mistreatment they had faced as a child. The rot started small, a odd old smell that started to lurk around Rayn. Eventually others would notice the smell but would shrug it off as the smell would soon be covered by the smell of Rayns chain smoking. Then one day Rayn was staring in mirror poking at their face and squeezing. They found a sore on her face and squeezed it, pus comes out but something moves underneath. They squeeze harder and something wriggles forth, it’s a very small, juvenile cockroach, streaked slightly in something slimey. As you can imagine that fucked them up a bit, but they learnt to embrace it. Learnt to love that crawling away just underneath their skin are thousands of little legs connected to cockroach’s of many sizes. Sometimes if not managed roaches will find themselves sneaking out of nostrils, mouth and ears. Sometimes even out from behind her eyes. One way they feed the corruption is they set forth the filth at a selected location. All it takes is for them to place a cockroach down in a building and within a week there will be a infestation so strong causing the people in said building to be taken down with it. The Cockroaches will feed on those that they can over power and The Corruption always needs feeding... (Also just want to add cockroaches themselves aren’t actually dirty, they’re actually obsessive cleaners. the locations they live in are dirty)

Telltale Batman- Roz Traegers:

first encounter with John Doe (the eventually to be known Joker) was at the bar he frequented. They had never once seen him drink a drop of alcohol. He would order beer constantly for his alcoholic sure but never consume it himself. Aside from his alabaster white skin nothing about him seemed out of the ordinary to them. Well except the fact he liked to stare, a lot. You would constantly worry it’s because he was just judging you based on your appearance (a lot of people do) however John just likes to stare at people and found you interesting for some reason (cliches I know, but me and John Doe are basically the same person and I like to think he’d think I’m interesting). Roz has a great dislike towards the people John works with, they don’t appreciate how badly they treat him. Especially Harley. John is so obsessed with Harley and she treats him like absolute shit. Roz had a plan to get Harley arrested, however John found out and threatened to never speak to Roz again. Roz has a soft spot for Mr Freeze specifically from the gang also.

Vampyr: Rose Pine

works as an assistant to Camellia at the florist. Rose isn’t a very chatty person and has had quite a traumatic up bringing. Her mother, sister and father are all unfortunately deceased. Her father killed her mother, then sister, then Rose, then turned the knife on himself. Rose survived her injuries (hence the scar on her throat) and was put out into the adoption system. Roses father believed he had been doing his family a service by taking their lives before they could be claimed by Ekons. Roses father had been a vampire believer long before they had even breeched the city. Rose always waves hello to Jonathan Reid when she sees him galavanting around. He always waves back and occasionally they will exchange a conversation. One evening they exchange more than just brief chit chat when Jonathan is required to save her from a group of feral Skals. Rose is very badly injured from her encounter and Jonathan ends up having to change the sweet little florist he sees most evenings into a Ekon. Rose is also good friends with Charlotte Ashbury and Charlottes mother Elisabeth. I haven’t played Vampyr in a wee while, I want to get back into it soon so plan on adding more to her story.

Outlast: Rosie Porter

Rosie worked as a live in psychiatrist for those at mount massive asylum. She lives on the premises that way patient can be attended to at any time. Her experiences throughout life gives her empathy for those that are locked up, that the other guards and majority of other staff just don’t have. Rosie has always been able to empathise with those who would be considered ‘evil’ whether she empathised out of her own sick fascination or because of her heart hurting too much is another question. Rosies favourite patients are Eddie Gluskin and Chris Walker. She was hired after Jeremy Blaire forcibly admitted Chris Walker. Rosie is enamoured with Eddie and he knows it. Knows he has his little psychologist wrapped around his finger. However Eddie would be a hypocrite if he said he also wasn’t wrapped around her finger. Rosie is forcibly committed to the asylum by Jeremy Blaire they start Project Walrider on the patients. Rosie was against it and threatened to blow the whistle on the whole thing (dumb idea) and Jeremy uses her as the first female Walrider test subject. Rosie has engaged in an affair with her boss Jeremy Blaire when she first started working there. Due to their past ‘hands on’ relationship, Rosie is allowed more time with her patients and allowed to be alone with her patients. This has allowed for her to further her work with her patients, as they’re quite open when the know they aren’t being openly judged by the security staff.

Hannibal: Jessi Trees

is a forensic entomologist who works alongside Beverly, Jimmy and Brian analysing dead people n shit. Jessi first met Will Graham on the scene of a crime when they had both been called out. It was the mushroom killer from memory as the soil was packed with invertebrates filled with evidence. Will has just finished doing his whole ‘this is my design’ when Jessi walks up to him and stands quietly beside him, where they say: “These fuckers are filled with worms and I don’t know shit about worms” Will Graham turns and looks at them like what the fuck? Those are dead people. Jessi merely shrugs, smirks and walks off. Jessi can be described by a lot of people as ‘a cold person’ or ‘indifferent’ but passionate. They dehumanise the corpses they’re working with at that’s the only way they can get justice for them. If they get too caught up in all the sadness of it, they can’t move forward from it. Jessi has a crush on Will Graham and Beverly Katz. Jessi questions Will and Hannibals relationship quietly from the background but never really comments.

Bonus character!! Stardew Valley: Zoë

This bad ass came all the way from Zuzu city in need of a better and different life. They inherit their grandfathers old farm and get it up and running. The town is filled with wonderful, amazing people. But of course Zoë has to want to become close friends with the person who hates me everyone: Shane (they’re kindred spirits, Shane isn’t aware of this however because he seems to think he’s the only person who can suffer from substance abuse and sever depression haha.) Shane hates them of course until they keep harassing him and he reasilizes she’s a lot more screwed up than he was aware. Zoë is close friends with Shane (ends up marrying him one day), Linus (I would fucking die for him and anyone who’s cruel to him gets my foot in the butthole), Leah (they hang out frequently and like to paint in the forest together), Emily (I have a massive crush on Emily haha, she’s so similar to me it’s great), is also friends with Sam’s dad and Jodis husband Kent (Kent suffers from PTSD and I’ve developed a lot of my own techniques to help with my own PTSD so we help each other out. Also Jodi I’m stealing your husband, just kidding, unless). Zoë’s favourite animals on her farm are her blue chickens (raised by Shane) and her horse Aaron. Zoë’s favourite yearly event is the moonlight jellies festival!

[jennaj022]

Lyrics to Armie’s latest song posted on Twitter:

Hit Em Hard - The Game

I got a black mac and a six pack I don't work out, I don't chit chat My bitch bad, I get racks That Rolls Royce, come gift-wrapped Them birds still come shrink-wrapped I'm not strapped, don't think that I'm low key with that click clack That rat a tat tat tat tat Throw the burner and I'm runnin' home Niggas stop being loyal when the money gone Still walk in this bitch, I'm a hundred strong One chain on my neck, feel like I got a hundred on Look at my flow on this bitch Platinum and gold on my wrist Money, the accountant be countin' it That's why I'm throwin' this shit I'm in BK with that SK Same clothes since yesterday With that Biggie Smalls on replay And I ain't wearing no vest today I do the Shmoney dance with this mac You better do it too or get Shmurda'd I be grilling that beef, I ain't talkin' no burgers I finna be walkin' like I'm a New Yorker I let off the K and then I hope in the Uber It's never a question that I am the shooter I empty the clip and lay you in a pool of Blood, see how he got hit with the Ruger? Blood, bandana that's how we be movin' Blood, swooping from Compton to Brooklyn And this ain't the Barclays but niggas be shootin'Running niggas down back and forth I'm like pass the torch Blast it off Niggas making bets so who gonna blast him off First to score We gon' hit 'em hard We gon' hit 'em all First to score We gon' hit 'em all We gon' hit 'em hard Running niggas down back and forth I'm like pass the torch Blast it off Niggas making bets so who gonna blast him off First to score We gon' hit 'em hard We gon' hit 'em all First to score We gon' hit 'em all We gon' hit 'em hardRunning cocaina back and forth Copped the bag of salt E S to the G N I'm the boss dropped the package off Coming for the murder, masks is off Bitch you took a loss Fuck the DEA we shook 'em off Bitch we shook 'em off Shook and twist the jars And dope on my mommas stove top By the time she came back from church boy I bet you I had an O stocked In the middle of the muhfuckin' day no more yayo, boy I done sold out Nigga pull up in a mothafuckin' foreign on forgies that'll bring them hoes out Like yeah nigga, niggas keep beggin' I pull out a pump in this bitch like I'm blizzard Yeah, empty your pockets, we robbin' these bitches got all of us trippin' Nigga, it's better to ask for forgiveness than ask for permission You catchin' the hollow, I'm catchin'you slippin' I did it alone, only God as my witness My nigga got off cause we tied up the witness and made sure the nigga couldn't show up in court You know the business, them niggas find out that you snitchin' them niggas gon' be at your throat Everyday Halloween niggas will go trick or treatin' with two tweny-three at your door Flippin' a check off this rappin' go back to the trap and put that in the weed and the blow likeRunning niggas down back and forth I'm like pass the torch Blast it off Niggas making bets so who gonna blast him off First to score We gon' hit 'em hard We gon' hit 'em all First to score We gon' hit 'em all We gon' hit 'em hard Running niggas down back and forth I'm like pass the torch Blast it off Niggas making bets so who gonna blast him off First to score We gon' hit 'em hard We gon' hit 'em all First to score We gon' hit 'em all We gon' hit 'em hardI just caught a body like a week ago These hatin' niggas want attention, I don't see 'em though You talk that gangsta shit, but I just can't believe it bro We pull up with them shots, knockin' out that European [?] S to the K to the E-M-E, callin' the EMT after I empted this clip I sold my dope right on CMT, I'm at the ING, know I'm as weird as it gets Chuck Taylor told me it's fuck haters, so I say fuck 'em and bury these niggas in pits Rolley on wrist, no toc or no tic, your girl on my dick, man come get your bitch Niggas think this a rap now, I might back down and come try your luck Riders with me be wired up, they ridin' with me till the tyres bust Haters talkin', but they better cool it, before that nigga Crooked get fired up Lay you out like my Balmains, you gotta play 'em straight, he get ironed up Drinkin' lean till I'm high enough, I don't give a fuck about [?] nigga I ain't squashin' shit, I won't call it off, I just handle mine like a man nigga I'm on frontline with these bands nigga Need a chair, I can't stand niggas We do walk-by's and hop outs Got slidin' doors on that van niggaRunning niggas down back and forth I'm like pass the torch Blast it off Niggas making bets so who gonna blast him off First to score We gon' hit 'em hard We gon' hit 'em all First to score We gon' hit 'em all We gon' hit 'em hard Running niggas down back and forth I'm like pass the torch Blast it off Niggas making bets so who gonna blast him off First to score We gon' hit 'em hard We gon' hit 'em all First to score We gon' hit 'em all We gon' hit 'em hard

[mosylufanfic]

Name That Tune

Inspired by the pic that DP recently posted to Instagram of her and Carlos looking like a couple of badass rockstars.

Name That Tune

Over the sound of his piano, Cisco heard the front door open and the click of familiar high heels on the tile floor of his entryway. He didn't bother to call out. He was the only one who played this piano. She'd know where to find him.

Sure enough, his manager strode in a few minutes later, ferociously stylish in skinny jeans, silk blouse, high heels, and a leather jacket that was probably too warm for the southern California weather, but still looked like a million bucks. "Surprised to see you awake," she said, setting her leather satchel down next to her usual chair.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He noodled the same chord progression again, frowning. There was something off about it, but he couldn't figure out what.

"You had a late night last night." Caitlin pulled out her phone and tablet and laid them out on the black glass coffee table, all business as always.

"Of all people, you should know better than to believe what you see online."

"I don't," she retorted, waking up the tablet and checking something. Probably her schedule, or her to-do list with its hundreds of tasks and subtasks. "Ralph texted me."

"My driver ratted me out? Fired. Out on the street."

"I cut his checks," she said calmly. "So no. Not fired. And you were getting in at four, the morning before a performance. Did you even sleep?"

It wasn't an idle question. He'd been known to pull 48-hour stretches when the music grabbed him by the throat. "Yes," he said. "A few hours." He ran his fingers over the keys. "I'm fine. I'll take a nap later.”

"See that you do." She unfolded herself from the chair and strode over to his wet bar. He ignored the various clatters and thumps and kept banging away at the chords. He was no closer to figuring them out when she set a giant mug on the music shelf of the piano, with a coaster under it.

He picked it up and took a sip. Hot tea, lemon ginger with two squeezes of honey, just the way he liked it. He would drink at least three or four more cups before tonight's show. "Thanks," he said.

She shrugged and settled herself back in her chair with her bottle of kiwi strawberry sparkling water. He had no idea why she liked it - the stuff tasted like it had heard about kiwis and strawberries on the Internet once - but she did, so he always had at least a case in the house.

"Are you working on the new album or messing around?" she asked.

"Mmm. Working." He played the chord progression again. "This phrase won't get out of my head but I'm not sure what it's about. Thoughts?"

"You know I'm tone-deaf," she said.

He shrugged. "You know what you like, though. C'mon." He played it again, all the way through.

She listened, sipping her water. "It sounds like yearning," she said. 

He lifted his hands from the keyboard and looked at her. "Yearning?"

"You know. Like there's something you want but can't have."

He lifted the tea to his lips again to hide the hard swallow he had to take then. When he was pretty sure he had himself under control, he said, "So something just out of reach?"

She looked away for a moment. "More like . . . it's within arm's length, but you're not brave enough to touch it."

He stared at her. She cleared her throat and took another sip of water. "Or, you know. Something like that."

"Hey," he said, and she looked up. He pointed at her. "I'm the singer-songwriter around here, don't you forget that."

She smiled a little.

"But I gotta admit that's . . . that was pretty good." He pulled his notebook toward him and scribbled down a few of the things she'd said. The musical phrase that had been circling his brain started to grow and expand, verses, chorus, bridge . . . He grabbed his phone and set it to record, then played a few of the threads spooling themselves out, before he forgot them. 

Caitlin listened, sipping her water, her face calm and unreadable.

"Good," he said, ending the recording and taking a deep gulp of tea. "I can work with that." He got up from the piano, taking his tea with him, and went over to kiss her cheek. "Thanks."

"It's all you," she said, and picked up her tablet. "If you're at a good stopping place, we should go over your schedule for today." 

He shrugged and dropped onto the couch, setting his tea on the coffee table. "Hit me." 

She paused to glare at his coaster-less mug until he reached over and pulled one off the little rack. Then she picked up her phone and fired away like a Gatling gun.

"I'm going from here to the venue for last-minute logistics. You're due at three for a sound check and run-through. Allegra's arranging dinner from Sushi Ten for you and the crew."

He nodded. "Including the Legends?"

She checked a text on her phone. "The bassist is allergic to soy and shellfish, so he asked for another restaurant, but everyone else is getting an order."

Shellfish, Cisco thought, filing it away. And soy.

If this group did a good show opening for him tonight, they'd come with him on tour next month.  Of course, Caitlin or her razor-efficient PA would make sure there weren't any allergens on the bus or at any of the stops, but it was good to remember anyway.

"At seven," she went on, "you've got a meet and greet with fans, including the Make a Wish kid you requested. Names and details on your calendar. The show starts at eight and you'll go on at nine-thirty. Rolling Stone wants an interview after."

"Who's the reporter?"

She checked her notes. "Iris West-Allen."

"Good. I like her. She doesn't spring shit on me."

"Yes," she said dryly, "I like that about her too. So that should be half an hour, an hour. I'll catch her on the way out and confirm any details." She tapped a few notes to herself and looked up. "Am I arranging any backstage passes tonight?"

"Yeah," he said, taking a sip of tea. "Couple of cuties I met at the bar. They follow me on Instagram."

She raised a brow. "You have over two hundred million followers on Instagram."

"They posted a pic last night. It was really nice meeting them." He smirked. "Really nice."

She picked up her phone, scrolled through his mentions, and found the post he was talking about. "These two?" she asked, holding it up to show a shot of a good-looking young couple, with him in the center, all three of them smiling brightly. Behind them the bar was dark and crowded.

"Yep. Jake and Christy . . . something. Forgot their last name." He waved a hand. "And while you're at it, bump up their seats as far as you can."

"I'll take care of it," she said, tapping a note to herself. Cool and unruffled, she continued, "Gatorade and condoms in your dressing room or back here?"

Because she was looking at her phone and not him, he allowed his eyes to narrow a little. "Let's say both," he said, pushing harder. "See where the night takes us."

She didn't react. "Okay. I'll be by tomorrow at noon. You've got another interview at two. Entertainment Weekly, they're coming here. So don't wear yourself out with your Instagram cuties tonight." 

"Hawthorne," he said. "That's it. Jake and Christy Hawthorne."

"Good, that makes my job a little easier," she said, typing the name into her phone. "I'll have those passes waiting at the box office." She flipped the cover closed on her tablet and started packing it away. "Anything else you need before I go?"

He gazed up at her, thinking, your hands, your lips, your heart.

He shrugged and drained his tea. "I'm good."

She tucked her phone in its little outside pocket. "Don't get lost in the music," she said. "Remember to take that nap."

He checked the time. "I've already asked for a sandwich in an hour, and after that I'll crash for ninety minutes or so. I'll be there in plenty of time."

"I know," she said. "Text if you need me." She was off then, heels clicking on the tiles, voice echoing in the hallway as she delegated new tasks to her PA, door thumping closed behind her.

He stayed on the couch for a moment longer, telling himself it would be maudlin beyond belief if he went to the window and stared longingly after her sapphire blue car streaking down the driveway. 

The least she could have done was look a little jealous when he'd implied he was going to have a wild threesome with a sexy couple tonight after the show. 

Not that he was actually going to do much more than kiss Christy Hawthorne's cheek. This was her birthday present, her husband had told him in the bar last night, one that Jake had scrimped and saved his teacher’s salary for.

No matter what Cisco had implied, the backstage passes and upgraded seats were just something nice for a couple of fans that had been sweet and excited when they’d recognized him at the bar last night. He hadn't gotten the sense that either of them were open to a post-concert tryst, even with their favorite rock star. 

So he'd walk around backstage with them, make chit-chat, sign some things, and wave good-bye. And if Caitlin thought they'd done anything more in his dressing room, well then, that was her problem.

He peeled himself off the couch and went back to the wet bar to get another mug of tea going. He grabbed his phone off the piano on the way, listening to the recording he'd made. The things she'd said swirled around his head. 

Arm's length. Close enough to touch. 

That was good. That could be something there. He played a silent string of notes on the edge of the bar as his tea steeped, hearing them swim in his head, aching. Longing. 

Yearning.

If nothing else, unrequited love was great for his songwriting.

FINIS

[yalocalrfaircityreporter]

WG Find Of The Day 🔎#2

Hooooooo boooy okay so it was about time that I update this here blog. Sorry for not posting in forever everyone, and as an apology I bring y’all my juiciest and most recent find first!!

So many of you guys perhaps thought in the past “Wow, I really wish we kinda had like an interview for Wordgirl or a panel or something anything that we-“

There was.

People.

There was something out there.

And the ONLY WAY that I knew about its existence was because I saw it on a Facebook post.

Okay so this was posted on the same year that Soup2Nuts closed and it’s basically a panel of a couple of people that worked at Soup2Nuts such as Hanna Bliss, Steve Young, and Dave Trexler, all while being moderated by Alex Berry (you may or may not recognize these names).

There is a whooole lot of good stuff in this thing, but to make a bit easier to find the good bits I’ll list out the moments from certain parts I enjoyed under the cut hehe:

Part 3

They mentioned that for the first episodes of Wordgirl the level of animation looked so inconsistent because they handed parts to people and received them without any double look, so they later changed the pipeline so that each team within Soup2Nuts had a supervisor.

Lots of outakes from the actors occur before designs and storyboards and the like get involved (which makes sense cause Wordgirl’s more script driven) so many don't make the final cut, but for the love of all things good I WANNA SEE THOSE OUTTAKES WITH THE SWEARING PLEASE OH LORD

Holy shoot they called us out people. Hanna called the Wordgirl tumblr fandom out people I dhjdhdjdb

ALSO apparently we haven’t found out every Easter egg going on in the backgrounds of the episodes 👀

Part 4

They confessed that Wordgirl got less and less educational as it went on pfffff we know lol 🧡

I’m surprised to learn that Wordgirl had to be tone down a lot for being too cartoony or that characters shouldn’t drool or point fingers even though I very well remember seeing that so someone managed to slip that past PBS hmmm

There is a fake DeviantArt account these people made for the show. I’m not gonna mention it here BUT I’ll make a post about it cause I diiiid find some more stuff on that believe it or not

Not a Wordgirl related comment, but apparently they were given soo much more freedom with Astroblast (which is another show Soup2Nuts worked on after getting Wordgirl on the tracks) and the fact that they mentioned there was a dog cult in one of the last few episodes just about to make me wanna try watching it

Part 8

At the studio they had a fricking Nerf battle where they had to shoot a target while they weren’t in their seat working sdhfjd awwwww (is awwwww an appropriate way to react to that I just realized)

There is waaaaay more stuff in the videos but there’s only so much that I can type out hhhhhhh. But yeah in case the above doesn’t work the link is https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOrGvhJspBjhD9Rl0V-CmrzRBcHUFd4tG

As always, please stay tuned for anything this pack rat finds!! :D

[theoldlord]

   Carved into the stone heart of Khaz Modan, the mighty city of Ironforge stands a testament to the dwarves' strength and resilience. An expansive underground city that delves as deep into Azeroth as the mountain itself stands tall. Massive doors of solid rock protect the city in times of war and lava from the mountain itself is rediected and distributed for heat, energy, and smithing. It is considered by many to be the most well-protected city in all the Alliance, nor has any point in history told of it being owned by any other than the dwarves. For this reason alone the Bank of Ironforge, or the Vault, stands as the safest place for anyone seeking to secure their valuables away for safekeeping. Maintained by the Stonemantle family and a legion of administrators, the Vault's lockboxes numbered in the millions and came in almost as many sizes depending on how big your hoard of coin was..

   Araian had been a customer to the Vault for decades now and he could think of few that -didn't- use the Vault to safeguard their fortunes. He could have taken the tram that connected Stormwind to the mountain fortress but then for matters such as this he thought it important to come by gryphon. The view of the mountain from the sky alone was worth it, even if he did have to bundle up under a layer of leather and furs to keep the chill of the mountain air at bay.

   "Ye get much older an' we won't be havin' enough furs to warm yer bones on such flights ye daft fool!" A hardy mountaineer waved Araian down once the gryphon landed, sending dusting’s of snow flying with each beat of its wings. The horned helm jammed onto the dwarf's head held fast by a large hand lest the Gryphon's wingbeats send his helm flying.

   "The day I cannot travel by gryphon, Morthagrin.. Well, I don't want to think of such a day. Flying still stands as one of the most enjoyable adventures in the world. It is good to see you, my Friend. Did you get my letter?" Araian grinned as he extended a hand out to the Dwarf, grasping his forearm in a warm gesture.

   "Aye, we got it! Cleared out a whole section o' level forty seven for ye! Gotta say Dinita is right excited ya be trustin' the family an' Ironforge with this much responsibility, friend. An' it's good to see ya too, heard 'bout what's been happenin' to ya.." Morthagrin shook his head as a disgruntled expression dominated his features. "Ya be findin' somethin' o' them to hit, ye let me know. We'll give 'em a good hammerin' fer ya!"

   A dwarf of simple words but the meaning behind them was as heavy as the twin hammers slung at his hips. "Good, good.. I'm glad Lady Stonemantle had such space available, and on such short notice. There's no safer place than the Vault and no people more capable to safeguard my past. You've kept my fortune safe for as long as I've been alive, Morthagrin." As they passed under Ironforge's massive stone doors, doors that had never in their history been breached, Araian nodded solemnly. "I appreciate that, friend. Truly. The moment we get a leg up on this new enemy, you'll be among the first to know."

   Idle chit chat saw two old friends through the lengthy journey to the Vault's entrance at the heart of the Commons Ward. The main thoroughfare for trade in Ironforge, there was rarely a time of day or night that did not see it packed with people of all types. Legions of dwarven guard marched in formation through the crowds, keeping the peace. Wagons, even Steam tanks from time to time were known to travel the wide stone highways. Set before a large parade area  across from the auction houses, the Vault rose above all other buildings carved into the rock walls of the city. A multi-storied building of polished grey marble with a matching set of stairs that led to the one and only entrance. Above the doors the crests of both Ironforge and the Stonemantle family rested alongside the words 'The Vault of Ironforge'. The doors were flanked by a three pairs of the city's finest. Large shields and savage-looking halberds stood firm to prevent any unwanted entry.

   As Araian and Morthagrin made their way past these stoic vault guardians and up the steps the set of burnished bronze doors opened for them as they got near. Past another set of guards a vast marble hall stretched back for over five-hundred paces with long counters stretching along its length. Dozens of the Vault's clerks worked these counters day and night servicing the monetary needs of the Alliance.

   "Lord Sunshield! By all that is stone an' sturdy, s'good to be seein' you!" The voice of Dinita Stonemantle, Vault Administrator, carried out across that expansive hall from where she rose from a small desk behind rows of counters. A set of wooden doors opened to allow the pair entry as they made their way to her. She even came from around her desk to give the human male a generous hug. One that nearly stole the breath from him, too!

   "Lady Stonemantle, you honor me with a meeting!" Araian exclaimed, chuckling after he caught his breath and eased into a seat across from the woman's solid silver desk.

   "Hush, ye! What am I, one o' yer poncy knights?! Honor this an' honor that. We're speakin' gold not honor! Great ta see ya too, Greybeard." Dinita exclaimed, offering the human lord a wink before she drew her spectacles back down across the bridge of her nose and began sorting through a vast stack of parchment. No less than seven enchanted quills rose to attention to begin the task of assisting the Vaults head admisitrator with the current task of Araian's finances. "I'm told you've a sizeable hoard to be needin' safekeeping, aye? That's no trouble at all, my dear! The current rates are quite manageable these days, even after the last war. At least by now they're occurring quite consistently with our projections. Eliminates nasty fluctuations, aye?"

   "Given the volume it'll take Morthagrin an' his team a week to get all o' ye items from the castle in Duskwood. That includes transportation as well, my dear. I see you've selected the Magni package for this.. Safe as diamonds or yer money back!" Giggling at her own cheesy bankers lines Dinita's gaze rose to the elder lord.

   Araian could only nod where he thought it appropriate and chuckle when she did. "You've always known best, Lady Stonemantle. The last time I took your advice you made me a fortune in Northrend with the lumber rush. Suffice to say I've trusted you with my wealth this long, I don't think you'll do me wrong. What of my other requests? I believe I submitted the applications for land deeds in both the Highlands and Boralus City correctly."

   “Hmm.. let's see here if we can dig those up and go over them, yes?" Her gaze slanted to Morthagrin, the mountaineer instantly adopting an 'at attention' stance. "Morthagrin, be a dear would ye? Yer free to be goin' about Araian's requests. Take your team and get started right away." Without word, though a cheery grin was offered to Araian as he nodded, Morthagrin trudged off as armor jingled until he vanished from sight.

   "Unfortunately, Araian, it would seem your request for deeds in Kirthaven was denied. Quite unfortunate, I'm sorry. It says here that land grants are hereditary through the clans that live in the region. There's no exception clause given that a majority of these clans are no longer alive.. It would seem the existing village elders hold rights to them and save them for the next generations. Boralus City? Your grant was approved for that, but I would advise against it."

   Araian frowned briefly, he had quite enjoyed his tour of Kirthaven when visiting it these past few days. Though, he could understand the reasons given for his denial. The village elders were smart, he'd give them that. "Why do you advise against Boralus city, my Lady?"

   "Insurance, my dear Araian. Ye could afford the purchase price o' many a manor throughout the city's wards there is no doubt. The insurance rates'll bleed ye dry though. It's surrounded by water! Even built upon it! Another cataclysmic event an' yer whole home will be in Naga territory! Ye got rats an' corrosion from the salt water too. No, no, no that'll simply not do. Tell ye what, give me a few days to see what's available an' I can give ye some more options, aye? Yer a lord, Araian. Lords need castles. Solid foundations. Towers. Stonnnne." Dinita explained as she shuffled that stack of parchment into multiple smaller ones.

   "Alright, Lady Stonemantle.. I understand. Still, the castle must be smaller than what I currently have. Yet larger than the one in Stormwind. You've got that one noted down as listed for sale as well, yes?" Araian nodded his head slowly as he clasped his hands together in his lap.

   "Sell yer Stormwind house? Tch, Araian. This is why ye leave the money to me! That house is an investment! Time goes on it's value only increases. I'd consider subletting it like ya do that pretty lass in Dalaran. She's a right good tenant mind you, should find another for the Stormwind house an' ye be right as rain. I won't be hearin' no buts from you either, Lord Sunshield! Keep thinkin' the way ye are an' you'll be broke an' I'll be pissed at ye! Off with ya then, I've got a dozen other lords to see to this afternoon but I'll put you down for Thursday, aye? Show ya what I've got fer a new castle!" With that, she was gone. Vanishing from her seat as if she were a shadow walker. Only those enchanted quills remained to finish the paperwork and sort it afterwards, leaving Araian quite out of place.

   A trip down the halls of steel would do him good.. There was always room for one more sword or another suit of armor for his hall. Right?

@theborderlandcoalition​

[rarestereocats]

Our talks with the council are concluded,  so we follow their instructions and head right into the ominous pyramid next door.  We're mistaken if we think our magic will get us through this quickly because the second we step inside,  we're plunged into darkness.  Not even a chorus of,  "I have dark-vision!",  can save us from this fate.  Luckily,  a few of us are able to cast echolocation and can lead the others.  There's monsters and fears a plenty scattered about the labyrinth,  but it feels like a constant dead end to our progress.  For hours,  we wander and pass by maggot queens, memory siphoning toys, and rooms very much dedicated to the things that make our skin crawl.  And this is where our next mistake begins.

The council said there were six trials.  There's six of us.  So obviously,  all of these Scare Zones are the trials themselves,  so we're well on our way to completing this.  We're told otherwise once we step into a ring full of corpses and a very angry minotaur.  For some reason,  he's willing to stop his rage to talk with us.  He tells us that this labyrinth is only the first trial,  so there's plenty more horrors to come.  We bid him farewell and make our way back to the maggot queen,  deciding that hugging and talking our way through this isn't going to work.  Upon her death,  I'm granted a small flame above my head that finally pierces through the darkness...but we don't realize that this is the key.  Instead,  Elathera dispels it from me the second I start hearing voices and things that aren't there.  We find a bonfire with some other unfortunate souls and call it a day.

The next leg of our journey is chock full of hopeless wandering.  We still have no clue how to get out of the Trial of Darkness and there's definitely no way we can brute force our way through it.  I have an unfortunate brush with death as I climb down a hole to inspect a shiny.  Surprise!  It's a rune capable of shouting nasty words at me in necril.  Nobody was prepared to face hidden death rocks,  but I'm sure we learned a valuable lesson about translating the tongues of the dead.  Where do we go from here?  We have no fucking clue.  So when in doubt,  split the party!  We all pair up and set out,  hoping that mapping out the labyrinth will reveal something important.

Industria finds the trial designed for her.  A large mirror that shows her body wilting away and when somebody else peers inside,  the ashes of her corpse strangle the life out of the reflections of her friends.  She decides to carry it along with her and Lucky,  but as it continues to taunt her,  she smashes the mirror and fails her trial.  Elathera and Jordeira stumble upon a room full of vaguely cat-like statues with tentacles.  It's Jordeira's trial,  though he's adamantly refusing to do a thing with this and heads into the next room.  Every wall is made of glass,  showing picturesque images of a beach.  They're both curious as to what lies beyond it,  so Elathera disintegrates the glass and is promptly sucked into a plane of existence that is beyond her comprehension.  She returns completely shaken by the experience,  but desperately wants to understand it.

Me and Rikius find a room of nothingness and yet it feels like there's something in here.  The presence I'm feeling is familiar,  but with nothing revealing itself,  I have no idea what's going on.  We carry on,  finding a room full of rats,  which is lovingly dedicated to me.  Our time to map this place out is up,  so we reconvene in a nearby room to go over everything we've found.  While we found a whole lot on our journey,  it still isn't enough to tell us how to get out of here.  While the others watch Industria help ferry along the soul of a vicious ghost,  I slip into the room of nothingness with the Mask of Lochoria on.  Thankfully,  the presence I felt is Iolond,  who's upset because somebody went somewhere they shouldn't have.  I know exactly who did it as Elathera explained her brain melting trip into the void,  but I'm not willing to rat her out.  Secrets for secrets though and as it shares a helpful tip about the labyrinth,  I call Elathera out,  but make them promise me they won't hurt her.

"Those that are cowardly suffer more." is Iolond's word of advice to me.  If I'm to tell everyone else,  the words didn't come from them.  With their advice passed along,  we all realize we have no choice but to face our fears.  Though Industria failed her trial,  her success in ferrying the ghost's soul earns her a flame.  It's my turn next and into the room of rats I go.  A sea of rats surround me,  all squeaking and biting me as I panic and try to figure out what to do.  I pet a rat.  And then another.  I dole out pets until a special rat emerges from the pack.  A spotted boy who I name Gerald.  In that moment;  he crawls up into my hair and turns into a flame.  There's another room of glass and we lock Elathera in it,  thinking that this is her trial.  So of course,  she disintegrates the wall and is plunged into the void yet again...garnering another visit from Iolond.  As Elathera slowly suffocates with explosions of unknown colors around her,  she earns her flame.

I chit chat with Iolond,  managing to learn that these voids are physical manifestations of it.  Poor Elathera has now violated my god twice and Iolond isn't exactly thrilled about it.  The glass rooms are actually Lucky's trial,  but they step back out the minute things get traumatic.  Another failed trial until we guilt trip them into seeing it through.  The next time they emerge,  they're profusely sobbing and in need of comfort,  but they finally have their flame.  It's Rikius' turn,  so we backtrack to a fountain of ladybugs he tried to shake off earlier.  He's trembling at the thought of having to go into that room,  but does so anyways.  He meditates beside the fountain,  closing his eyes in time to avoid the visual horror of hundreds of bugs crawling all over him.  A flame appears above his head,  sending the ladybugs scattering before his eyes open.

It's all up to Jordeira to conclude the Trial of Darkness and he is doing everything he can to put it off.  At this point,  he'd rather fight the minotaur.  We reach the room of creepy statues and he urges Industria to shove him inside.  She does so and he begins to hear familiar whispers in abyssal.  They tell him how he'll never escape their clutches,  that he'll always belong to them.  He reluctantly sits before one of the statues,  the whispers now telling him to sacrifice his friends.  Despite his fear,  he declines,  earning a sword right through his ribs.  He's overtaken by blinding pain and earns his flame.  We're not immediately teleported from the labyrinth,  so with more wandering,  we find a mysterious pit in the closet.  We throw ourselves down and are met with a raging blizzard.

We've now entered the Trial of Cold...

[nemossubmarine]

Warhammer 40k: Wrath & Glory RP #20

Here’s the exciting second to last session of our Dew Mtn adventuring!

We start with Saef’s adventures on Civitas A, as that happens approximately simultaneously to Gorm’s and Gimlet’s adventures. 

Saef is not doing great, he’s starting to tap into the hivemind, and can’t be sure how long before he loses himself. 

So quick acting is in order. 

He rushes into his home, where his mom hits him with a frying pan. Not wounding luckily. 

Analyn tells that Hao, Saef’s dad, went to get Saef’s sister Mai and Mai’s husband Wasim from the factory. 

Saef tells Analyn and the kids to pack up, and he beams them up before continuing to the factory. 

The factory is surrounded by cultists, but Saef has no trouble sneaking past. 

He finds about 12 factory workers, including his family members, being caught by cultists, who Saef kills. 

Saef tries to get the people to calm down and follow orders but some of the workers are panicking, until Hao tells them to listen to Saef. 

Saef leads them to roof for teleporting. 

Before they can all get beamed up, there’s an explosion close-by and a shout that sounds a lot like Gimlet. 

So, Saef stays behind and goes to check that out.

Meanwhile, Gimlet is remembering. 

He remembers playing hide-and-seek with his friend Jonathan, and his mother coming to get the boys. 

The summer’s over and it’s time for them to go. 

But in the middle of the memory, some strange, others memories bleed through, and Gimlet hears two voices talking. 

Other sounds like Inquisitor Tanner, and the other like Eden?

Gimlet is shaken awake by Olga Eriksen, who together with her motorbike riding partner and their daughter Frita have stumbled upon the scene of the explosion. 

Olga helps Gimlet to his feet and he goes over to check Apple Blossom’s unmoving body. 

Unfortunately Gimlet’s first aid is too good and Apple Blossom stirs and attacks Gimlet. 

Olga provides assistance by sitting on Apple Blossom, while Gimlet retreats to do first aid on himself. 

This is when Saef gets to the scene. 

Olga asks what to do with Apple, and Gimlet asks her to knock her out, which Olga does, by gonking their heads together. 

Saef and Gimlet and Apple are going to head up, Olga and her partner refuse to be beamed up, as they need to go find their son, but Gimlet gives her his phone number, so they can get to safety once that’s done. 

There’s some trouble with reaching Molly. 

Gimlet uses his contacts and gets Lu Yan to teleport them up with the passenger teleporter. 

Gimlet apparently still has some stuff he needs to do surface-side, but Saef secretly sabotages the passenger teleporter, so he doesn’t get himself killed.

Lu Yan and Gimlet have to start making their way to the cargo teleporter. 

Saef takes Apple to the med bay, but not before calling Molly and telling her not to let Gimlet teleport on the surface. 

Saef can’t go to the surface anymore, so he and Tabasco agree to lock him up with Apple so he won’t cause any trouble. 

Before that Saef takes his people / cat / severed head to Molly’s place. 

Molly requests a new necklace for her services.

Gorm wakes up in the snows of Fenris, in the middle of a snow storm, next to a canyon. 

Next to him sits his pack leader Rolf, who talks, mostly to himself, about the duties of a Space Marine and ordinary people giving hope, and something like that, and then he asks Gorm where they went wrong. 

Gorm notes that Rolf probably shouldn’t feel that bad as on the totem pole of people to blame for the pack going bad, he’s nowhere near the top. 

Gorm then questions where he is, and Rolf replies that his implants are trying to restart themselves, which is why Gorm is hallucinating. 

The hallucination ends with the arrival of the rest of Gorm’s pack; all the dead and chaos infected members, and Uffe at the front with wolf eyes. 

Gorm is about to get to fighting, when Rolf steps in between and says that ”once again I must send you away for your own good”. 

He then pushes Gorm into the canyon. 

The last thing Gorm sees is Uffe attacking Rolf.

Gorm wakes up on the floor, and all he can see is a blue light and hear the emergency sirens, moments before the hull cracks and they are in space. 

In that moment, Gorm is teleported back to the ship by Molly. Gorm gets up. 

He’s not in great shape, a piece of his power armor is lodging itself into his back. 

Gorm asks Molly about the tech priest, and Molly says she only got the people who had any life signs. 

Gorm begins helping the people off the teleporter pad so Molly can get more people in. 

That’s when Lu Yan and Gimlet get to the scene. 

Molly refuses to teleport Gimlet down, but Gorm hears it, and says he’ll be teleporting down, and Gimlet can come with. 

Gimlet weakly protests, but down they (and Mimir) go. 

They teleport in front of a BBS building in the middle of the city. 

Gimlet gets into the building and notices a bunch of dead cultists and a broken cell phone, which he pockets.

Gorm asks if they’re here to loot phones. 

Gimlet refuses to answer, and follows a trail of blood out of the back door. 

There they pick up on a fight happening. 

Some cultists and genestealer have a person surrounded in a half-way broken building. 

Gorm and Mimir rush into the fray. 

Mimir basically tears a genestealer to bits. 

Gimlet gives supportive fire. 

Gorm soon catches glimpse of the person they are saving. 

It’s Inquisitor Inpax, who’s in rather poor shape, and not doing any better as she suddenly gets swarmed. 

But Gorm, Gimlet and Mimir manage to get the cultists down. 

Gimlet is immediately checking up on Inpax, who demands to use a phone. 

She calls her men (presumably) to tell them to not let Kane Bullard out of their sight, and to check up on Eden. 

Inpax has several usb-sticks and a tank with a piece of flesh with her. 

Gorm says he has no time to stay and chit-chat, as there’s still stuff to be done. 

He calls sergeant Revan and asks if he could join his troops for the battle. Revan is glad to have assistance.

And so off Gorm goes to do some battling. 

Gimlet and Inpax teleport back up to the  ship.

We move onto a little bit of a time skip. 

Santa Maria evacuates civilians from Dew Mtn to other planets. 

Saef is locked up. 

Gimlet goes to the medbay. 

Gorm fights the good fight. 

He loses a leg, Sergeant Revan loses his life. 

But the Genestealers and the Psykers are defeated, and the day is saved.

Saef finally gets out of his exile now that he’s not in danger of turning on other people. 

He goes to visit Inpax, who is still a bit weary looking from her trip to Civitas A. 

She asks what’s up with Saef’s nose and Saef says he got hit by a 16-year-old. 

Speaking of which… Saef explains Rat’s situation to Inpax. 

Inpax says that she has gotten a teacher for Saef who could look over Rat as well. 

Then Inpax asks for a favor from Saef. 

Inpax has arrested Kane Bullard and his men, and they’ll be soon transported to an Inquisition base for interrogation. 

There’s one thing Inpax is curious about, and that is the nature of Eden’s co-operation with Kane Bullard’s schemes. 

Perhaps Saef could ask about that? 

Saef says he can, and he will. 

Oh, and Theo is ok to be reversed as clearly Kane Bullard was not working within the law.

Tabasco sends out a text to Gimlet saying he wants to talk about the naked dude Gimlet dropped off into his medbay. 

They meet up during Tabasco’s lunch break. 

Tabasco has some bad news, the dude (dude being Andrew Andrés) is basically dead. 

There’s nothing Tabasco can think of to wake him up. 

But he checked his brain scans, and there was something odd, something maybe psykic-related. 

And hey, there’s apparently an actually sanctioned psyker on board, so Tabasco has heard, perhaps Gimlet could ask him for help. That’s all. Gimlet says he’ll do so.

Gorm has checked himself into the medbay, and Tabasco comes to talk with him about his leg situation. 

Tabasco doesn’t do prosthetics, but they have a tech-priest on board. 

He’ll just have to hope the Inquisition will allow the tech-priest to be borrowed long enough to make all the legs Tabasco’s patients need. 

This number is three, as apparently Jennifer’s legs couldn’t be saved. 

Gorm says not to worry, the Inquisitor owes him one.

Layla comes to visit Gorm at the medbay, because of course she does. 

Well, she was originally visiting her mom, but upon seeing Gorm comes to check on him. 

Gorm tells of his heroic accomplishments and even suggests that the Sable Swords wanted to make Gorm their sergeant after Revan died (but a field medic by the name of Carl is probably going to be promoted). 

Layla is very taken with the stories, as always. 

Gorm tells her that a good wolf always aims to save as many people as they can. 

Layla comments on how Gorm and her mom are going to be the same as they’ll both be getting new legs. 

Gorm mentions that he is planning on going back to Fenris soon, as apparently he has been called upon, and wonders if Layla would like to come with. 

Layla says of course, but Gorm says he’ll talk with Jennifer first and forbids Layla from mentioning it to her mother before that. 

Layla agrees, hugs Gorm and goes to see her mother.

Saef receives a text message from Inpax that his and Rat’s teacher has arrived, and to go meet him. 

So Saef goes by Molly’s place to pick his people / cat / severed head up. 

Molly is fast asleep, so Saef leaves her a gift card for the necklace. 

He drops Theo, Felis Catus and Kuru’s head at his place before heading to meet his new mentor.

Gimlet happens to find this mentor first. 

He turns out to be an older gentleman by the name of Konstantine Holzer, tall and thin, sporting one mechanical eye and one seemingly blind one. 

Upon hearing Gimlet’s requests, Konstantine agrees to see to the patient, though he says he is not a healer. 

Just then Saef and Rat get there, and Konstantine says he’ll meet Gimlet in the medbay. 

Konstantine questions Saef about his knowledge of the warp, which seems to be a bit lacking to say the least. 

Well, he’s going to be taught, but Konstantine feels Rat might be a bit bigger of a concern first. 

Before Saef leaves Rat with Konstantine, Konstantine asks Saef to speak with him in private. 

Upon doing so, Konstantine asks whether Saef is aware that Rat is not human. 

Saef says well he is now. 

Konstantine suspects Eldar and asks Saef to tell about Rat’s background. 

It seems most likely Rat has been raised among humans, but surely she is aware of her, well, difference. 

That’s a problem for them once Rat becomes visible. 

Mostly Inpax’ problem.

Gimlet has meanwhile come to the medbay and stops to check up on Gorm. 

Gorm asks what happened to Inpax after he left. 

Gimlet says he took her here and she was taken care of. 

Gorm says he would have appreciated Gimlet’s help back on the planet, but he gets it, Gimlet needed rest and relaxation. 

Gimlet wants to talk about the awkwardness between them ever since the whole wolf-incident. 

Gimlet says he’s sorry that he didn’t take it well, but he wants to make sure Gorm knows Gimlet respects his culture. 

Gorm suggests another hunt. 

Gimlet says maybe they could go to the bar to hunt for drinks. 

Gorm seems agreeable to this. 

Gorm says it’s good that Gimlet and Jennifer got a bit angry at him, since Gorm has his own perspective and sometimes it’s hard to see outside it. 

Gimlet explains why he took it so badly, as Tanner did the same to him, taking him in as a child. 

At least he got an education. 

Gorm asks if Gimlet would have chosen this path had he been given the choice, and Gimlet admits that, well, there wasn’t much of a choice, namely because his mother apparently had just been slain, thus confirming that Cara is indeed his mother. 

Gorm says he’s sorry.  

Gorm then mentions being called back to Fenris and he wishes Gimlet to help with how to ask Layla about actually becoming a Space Wolf, as she is starting to be around the age where she will be taken in, if she is to become one. 

Gimlet suggests maybe talking with Jennifer. 

Gorm also isn’t quite sure how to bring up the fact that the process of becoming a Space Marine does take away people’s memories.

Well there’s no clear answers to that, especially because Konstantine appears to check over Andrew Andrés. 

Gorm is still hostile, but perhaps a bit more respectful towards this new psyker. 

Konstantine checks Andrew over and says he has to agree with Tabasco, he is gone. 

But not all gone, as Konstantine can use psykic means to get into his head and get some information, if that is something that could be of use. 

To do that he would need some kinds of anchors to hold onto, names and places. 

Gimlet suggests Cara and Tanner. 

Konstantine seems a bit unsure on whether to ask Inpax for permission, but finally agrees that Tabasco’s permission should be enough. 

He needs a bit of time to prepare, so we’ll leave that for next time.

And that’s all. Next session, Saef talks with approximately seventeen people and I guess Gorm and Gimlet are there too (well no, they got stuff to do too) (lots of discussions) (all the plot) (next time!).

[jackblankhsh]

Why I Quit -- Santa’s Elf

"In my Mom's rendition, Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer eventually goes on a rampage, beating elves to death with his hooves, and disemboweling reindeer with his antlers. As for Santa, well, lemme just say ho-ho-holy shit.  Thing is I can't help thinking she taught me the right & wrong lesson with her variation.  

 "Allow me to elaborate.

 "Nothing motivates a person to grasp at any job like a looming eviction that'll cast one out into Chicago winter.  It is a wicked season.  Polar bears stalk the streets.  Great glacial mounds dot the city wherever the homeless, huddled together for warmth, have frozen into human icebergs.  And always there those driven mad by cabin fever who turn into winter banshees, their screams echoing down the icy streets.  

 "Call me a coward, but I've lived here long enough to know better than risk Winter on the streets. So, following the word of a grape vine bird, I went to the Brick House Diner.  There I found Chari chowing down on a burrito.  

 "Chari is a queen in the skin grift game commonly known as stripping, though she prefers the term gash flasher.  Folks often misperceive Chari, given that she spells 'Cherry' C-H-A-R-I; however, she's certainly innovative.  Consider how she alters her act for holidays.  Around Easter she dances as Bunny, near the Fourth of July she's Booty Ross, and close to Giftmas she's Mary Christmas -- 'merry' spelled M-A-R-Y.

 "We met at a bachelor party.  When the groom asked if Chari might be inclined to acts other than sexy dancing she rewarded those hooker implications by performing an act of surra de bunda so severe it broke his nose and gave him a concussion.  Always respect a woman who can use her butt as a wrecking ball.

 "After the usual chit-chat kindling we fired up the real conversation.  

 'I heard you know about a job.'

 "She nodded, 'You know I pick up all kindsa stuff.  Guys think they're impressing me, or some shit.  Can't complain though.  My stock portfolio is crazy good.'

 "Fishing in her purse she produced a pamphlet.  Passing it across she said, 'I think the guy who gave me this was thinking like save the stripper, or whatever.'

 "I chuckled, 'The ol' respectable job angle.'

 "She smirked, 'Like I'll be so grateful I'ma just have to suck his dick.'

 "I said, 'Well, as a man, I can say we're raised with the grateful BJ delusion.'

 "She rolled her eyes, 'Oh please, you believe it because you want it to be true.  Ain't no different than Jesus saves.'

 "Glancing over the pamphlet I said, 'Speaking of grateful oral...'

 "She said, 'Don't be getting ideas.  This is me paying you back.  That bachelor party was gonna kill me.  Besides.' She smirked, 'I think you'll be an adorable elf.'

 "The next day I found myself in the beige office of a mall manager in Niles.  After introducing myself we stared at each other in silence for well over a minute.  I think he kept expecting to pull off my face, revealing Chari beneath a mask, and his pornographic fantasies of gratitude would come to life.

 "Finally, playing off that note, I said, 'So about this job, Chari said I'd be a good fit.'

 "He nodded, 'It's not hard.  Tricky part is whether you like kids.  You like kids?'

 "A few years back I attended a family gathering.  The three year old crotch fruit I'm supposed to call my nephew got to its feet.  The whole family cheering it on my brother's rat child started baby-staggering towards me. Arms spread wide it giggled. Leaping off the couch I shouted, 'Not today Satan!' and punted it across the room.  (I may've been drinking.)  

 "As such, I informed the manager, 'I know how to handle kids.'

 'Okay.  Let's get your costume.'

 "I shuddered. Though aware of this aspect of the job I didn't look forward to it.  I've often had vivid nightmares about a sweaty Walt Disney furiously masturbating to forlorn actors sadly donning the mouse costume.  

 "The manager said, 'Follow me.'  

 "He led the way through a network of halls behind the shops taking us to a locker room. While he searched for a box containing my costume I waved to a maintenance worker in overalls.  

 "The maintenance guy said, 'What they rope you into doin'?'

 'Elf.'

 "He grimaced, 'You let me know when you wanna die.  I'll kill ya.  Did it for the last guy.  Least I can do, ya poor bastard.'  

 "Right away, I liked him.  

 "The manager returned carrying a battered cardboard box.  Handing it over he said, 'Put this on then go to the middle of the mall.  Santa's there.  You can't miss it.'

 "Opening the box I sighed heavily.  Inside I found red tights, a green short sleeved shirt, and a red and white striped long sleeve shirt as well as a pointy green cap, and a set of fake points for my ears.  Everything smelled like diseased feet, and the points felt like uncooked chicken. Yet, I soon found myself transformed into an elf.  

 "Walking the mall is like roaming the belly of a beached whale.  The labored breathes of certain patrons even helps conjure a vivid image of the leviathan struggling to breath as its own weight crushes it out of existence.  Meanwhile, despite everything in a state of slow decay, creeping towards death, delusions of survival abound like the leather store believing yalmukes will save the dying retailer, or the lingerie shop's unsettling new line of preteen thongs. Like dynamiting a beached whale it would be merciful to burn this place down.

 "I spotted the ersatz Santa village long before I reached it.  It appeared to be constructed on a budget of zero fucks, and discarded pizza boxes.  Buildings, particularly Santa's workshop, stood so crooked they must've been constructed by a German expressionist.  In front of it all sat Santa, enthroned on a thrift store recliner spray painted gold.

 "Next to him stood a perky albino asparagus who introduced himself as, 'Todd.'

 "Santa introduced himself as Santa.

 "I said, 'I see we're going method.'

 Todd beamed, 'If it makes the kiddies happy that's cool.'  If he smiled any wider his head would've come out his mouth.  

 Slapping a nicotine patch on Santa said, 'Lez do dis.'

 "And so it began... a job that made me want to smoke heroin out of a shotgun, get a nice double barrel overdose going.

 #

 "Later, unprompted, Santa said, 'Been doin' this job fer-fuckin'-ever.  Started when my bitch wife took off with the kids, and I was missing children, which is something never thought I'd say.  So I was like, "Mall Santa!"'

 'Why'd she leave?' I asked.  

 "He shrugged, 'I's fucking our neighbor, and that asshole got it in his head I wanted him to kill her.  So there was this whole misunderstanding.  Oh, hold up.'

 "Todd lifted an approaching child into Santa's lap.  The kid stared in wide eyed wonder.    

 "'Hello little boy!' Santa said, 'What do you want for Christmas?'

 'I wanna thister.'

 'Then send us your mom,' I said.

 "Santa choked down a laugh.  He told the kid he'd see what he could do, but if there was anything else, say a toy of some kind... but the boy insisted on a sister.  

 "Todd snapped the kid's photo with a digital camera.  Then I helped the boy down.  Delivering him back to his parents I asked if they wanted to buy the photo.  Like most they declined having already snapped pics with smart phones like the cheap bastards they are.  The same way they used Santa as a scapegoat, blaming him when they couldn't afford gifts for their kids.

 "So it went, eight hours a day for the next twelve days.  

 "Occasionally packs of mallrats tried to storm Santa's village.  This usually involved Goth kids screaming about Krampus.  We kept giant fake candy canes at the ready, and though bludgeoning teenagers is always a perk, it made the job feel worse afterward.  Those battles sent me to such dizzying heights the drop back to reality felt like orbital skydiving -- too much time to fully consider the fall.  

 "Todd, on the other hand, possessed a mystifying ability to always smile.  After one fight he said, 'That young fella had some skills. Good for him.'

 I said, 'Maybe next time he'll kill you.'

 'Then he'll be a winner!' Todd said.  Watching him bandage himself with wrapping paper and gauze, I considered stealing a pinch; suspecting I could get a cheery high sucking on Todd's bloody gauze.  

 "But most days belonged to managing the slow procession of beaming children accompanied by bored adults lobotomized by parenthood.  

 "In the locker room one night a gruff voice asked, 'You wanna die?'

 "Startled I leapt forward bouncing hard off my locker.  Spinning around I found the maintenance guy standing directly behind me.

 "I said, 'Not yet. Things are okay... I guess.'

 "He nodded, 'When you're ready, say the word.  You won't even know I'm coming.  Just.' He snapped his fingers, 'Lights outs.'

 'I don't doubt it,' I replied, 'Hey, I'm just here until I've got enough to buy a gun.  Then I can rob a bank like someone who still has their dignity.'

 'Like Todd,' he said.

 "Todd having dignity proved hard for me to swallow.  For instance, his frog eyed crotch stared down kids all day, and despite even the most direct statements he never did a thing about his huge man-el toe. Yet, it does take a stalwart individual to be so... Todd.  Like physics, and voluntary celibacy, optimists have never made sense to me.  Despite whatever obvious negativity I sent his way Todd remained a prince of the bright side.  Some days my only motivation for work orbited some contrived scheme to break Todd's smile, yet I slowly began enjoying his immutable nature -- the seemingly eternal persistence of his mood.  

 "The maintenance guy's words echoing in mind, I started seeing Todd in a new light. Instead of a silver lining seeking lunatic I started seeing a young man impervious to the world's woes.  Of course, I harbored doubts.  Perhaps in private he metamorphosed into a snarling bitter dick, a speculation I held on to until one fateful day.

 "Close to the end of work we let our guard down.  We each wanted to go home for our own reasons.  Santa had been peed on four times; it being payday meant I was anxious to get my drink on; and Todd wanted to hurry home to make a gingerbread house for his grandma.  We didn't notice the circling, growing Krampus kult clad in black... until it was too late.  

 "A wiry teen jumped atop the phone case kiosk.  

 "Holding high an ornate, impractical dagger he bellowed, 'Death to the red lie!'

 "And then the stygian tsunami came from all directions.  Surrounded, we didn't stand a chance.  Still, we fought the good fight.  At one point I frantically threw children at the legion of incoming Goths, bowling them over.  Santa put on a pair of reindeer antlers, and charged into the swarm head first. Anytime I saw a piercing I grabbed it, and pulled hard as I could.  

 "About to be overwhelmed I shouted, 'Robert Smith is dead.'  As the swarm paused to check their phones I used that as our chance to flee.

 "Grabbing Santa I said, 'We gotta go!'

 'Ho-ho-hold up,' he stammered, 'Where's Todd?'

 "I saw him lying face down.  Shoving Santa to kick start his exodus, I hurried over.  Scooping up Todd I fireman carried him back to the locker room where I dropped him unceremoniously on the ground.

 "Gasping, I declared for the millionth time in my life, 'I gotta quit smoking.'

 "Then I noticed a pool of blood spreading from Todd.  Rolling him over revealed a set of pentagram themed shuriken stuck in his back. It didn't look good.  Also, it's entirely possible when I dropped him I may have inadvertently driven them deeper into Todd.

 "Kneeling beside him I lied, 'You're going to be okay.'

 "Todd said, 'As long as the kids are happy.'

 "Then he died. Smiling.  Later I watched the maintenance guy mop up his blood, erasing what was left of Todd, save for a vague stain on the locker room floor.  The next day I arrived to find a doughy guy in the locker room struggling into the elf costume.  It'd been washed, but there were still holes in the back.  

 "Wrestling with the tights the guy said, 'This fuckin' shit better be worth it.'

 "Seeing that sourness, I told the new guy, 'When you the manager come around, tell him I quit.'

 "Chicago winter isn't the worst thing in the world... like Rudolph, Todd was born with a gift people didn't appreciate until they needed it.  To see him replaced so easily, well, frankly your honor, that's why I burned down the mall."

[quinnhayden]

Could you please write more with Aidan & Quinn? Maybe when they’re all together and they’re out walking in the park or visiting something and Seb’s character, Chris Beck, comes up to Quinn and they start to talk like good friends? The guys are like ‘Who tf is this dude’ Since he’s a Dr, Quinn & him could have met before he went to Mars. The guys will be kinda territorial ‘cause Quinn is flirting with him and they’re hoping that Aidan might scare him off, but to their surprise & Aidan likes him

I took one look at this prompt which has not only daemons but Chris Beck and immediately titled it: hold my fucking beer.

Winter, finally, seems to have broken and it’s such a beautiful day in Brooklyn, so warm and sunny, that Quinn could almost cry with it. Rather than be cooped up in their brownstone, everyone collectively decides to take a nice walk and have a picnic in the park. Okay, not everyone. But when Linda approaches Quinn, early in the morning before anyone else is up, and hesitantly explains that she’d love it if she could head outside today, nothing would stand in Quinn’s way to give Linda what she wants. It wasn’t only Bucky that spent those seventy years being tortured, after all. Both Linda and Bucky are still so reluctant to demand things for themselves, so on the rare occasion that they do actually want something, everyone else would bend over backwards for those two.

The warmth must’ve broken something open in Linda because she’s a little chatter box the entiremorning leading up to their picnic. Quinn doesn’t mind it one bit, of course. She thinks that maybe this is Linda reclaiming some of her autonomy after beingforced to be silent all those decades. Bucky is obviously infected by her good mood, too. Compared to the usual, he and Linda have been chittering away with each other and his smile comes easier. Quinn and Steve have been sitting back, watching with amazement. She can’t say the same for Steve, but she’s about to burst, she’s so full of love. If warm weather keeps them like this, Quinn would pack up and move them out to her Arizona property.

As they’re about to head out the door, Linda raises up on her belly in front of Quinn. “Hey—” she hesitates. Bucky, next to her, frowns and reaches out for Linda, but she drops down out of his grasp. Her hood automatically opens, but snaps shut, andthere’s a tense few seconds where Linda and Bucky stare at each other. Then, she tilts her head toward Quinn and shyly asks, “Can I ride with you today?”

Once, in the humid heat of a Vietnam jungle, when Quinn was on the hunt for the Winter Soldier, Quinn had been bitten by something. The animal had been too quick for Quinn to see at the time, but unbeknownst to her, it’d been Linda. The super soldier serums have had odd effects on their daemons, so her venom had been potent. That bite had almost killed Quinn. Linda and Bucky have always blamed themselves for the harm they’ve done to Quinn, but Linda especially has kept her distance because of it.

Having Linda close a little more of that gap makes Quinn want to cry, but she won’t. “Yeah, of course you can,” she answers and tries not to sound too eager. Linda loops her long body around Quinn and settles her head down on Quinn’s shoulder. If Quinn stops to clutch Linda a little tighter, then that’s their secret.

 “The best part about the future,” Linda carefully starts as their ragtag group steps outside on the street, “is how much bigger everyone is. Bucky’s gotten a lot bigger than he used to be back in the war, so it’s easier for me to wrap around him—”

 “More for me to wrap around, too,” Quinn interrupts cheerily and winks at Bucky when he snaps his head around to look at her. Both Quinn and Steve will be the first people to talk about how stacked Bucky is these days. Steve cackles loudly when pink blooms across Bucky’s cheeks before he ducks his head down.

Linda hisses in annoyance and Quinn squeaks when Linda’s tongue flicks against her ear and tickles her. “And Steve and Nora, I got used to their size, but now you and Aidan are a lot bigger, too,” she continues after a huff. “Back in the war, I didn’t think Aidan could get any bigger, but I was wrong. And I wish I knew before now how much hotter you are! I wouldn’t have been so miserable with Bucky these past few months if I knew. I would’ve gotten in bed with you and Steve.”

 “Excuse me for the inconvenience, your highness,” Bucky grumbles under his breath.

 “Aidan, are you hotter, too?” Linda questions.

 “Yes,” Aidan answers with an annoyed rumble that makes a passing man and his small daemon scramble past faster. Aidan, always conscious of his enormous size, stops to try and shake off the person’s fear. Steve scratches behind Aidan’s ear to help him feel better. “I’m fat and hot and it sucks ass in the summer. Who has more heat strokes—me or Quinn? That’s the real question.”

Linda slides around Quinn’s neck so she can loop around and up and put her chin on top of Quinn’shead. “Huh. Me and Bucky are always trying to not be cold.” Both Steve and Quinn shoot a sharp look at Bucky who then glares at Linda for ratting them out. “And you and Quinn are always trying to not be hot. I bet Bucky could keep Quinn cool. His fingers and toes are like icicles.”

 “Bucky should sleep with Steve and Quinn. They’d definitely stop moping so much—” Aidan stops as they enter the park and raises his nose. Then, he stands up on his back legs, an imposing ten feet. Hekeeps sniffing around, trying to look and find something, Quinn guesses. She’s annoyed that people and daemons keep scrambling away. He’s a daemon, for God’s sake. He’s not some wild animal that’ll kill everyone. This is why Aidan doesn’t like to be in public anymore. This is exactly why he doesn’t like people other than a very select few.

 “Aidan?” Linda unwinds from Quinn’s neck and drops down to the ground so she can slither over to Aidan.

 “Hey,” Nora tries to get his attention and shoves her muzzle against his side. “Aidan, what’s up?” Quinn shrugs when everyone turns to look at her in questioning.

 “Quinn,” Aidan suddenly hisses with excitement. He drops back down on all fours. “I knew I smelled someone familiar! It’s Chris!” He leans over and grabs Quinn’s sleeve in his teeth, muttering, “C'mon, c'mon, we gotta see him before he leaves. I haven’t seen him in forever.”

 “Okay, okay, Jesus,” she laughs. Then, he breaks off in a sprint, chasing Chris Beck’s scent and Quinn shouts, “Aidan!” She’s not sure that even Chris, who has never shied away from Aidan, wouldn’t be a little intimidated and nervous to see a huge grizzly bear running toward him. “Sorry,” she apologizes to Steve, Bucky, Linda, and Nora quickly before she chases after her excited daemon.

 “Aidan, hey, buddy,” she can hear Chris laughing. She steps into view and watches Aidan rolled over on his back, relishing in some good belly rubs the same way Nora does. “Where’s Doctor Hayden, huh?”

 “Quinn, Chris,” she reminds him. Chris looks up at her and smiles. “It’s Quinn. No need to be so formal all the time.” Quinn squawks as his Japanese Macaque drops down from the branch above her head on her shoulders. “Oh. Hey, Hannah. How you been, sweetheart?” The monkey starts chit-chatting with Quinn which, when Hannah’s on a roll, it’s hard even for Quinn to keep up.

 “Hannah, chill out,” Chris scolds his daemon. “And come back over here. Leave Doc—” Quinn sends him an annoyed glance and he meekly corrects with, “Come over here and leave Quinn alone.”

 “I could say the same thing about my daemon,” she murmurs and watches Aidan fondly. “But he’d rip even my arm off if I tried to take him away from your famous belly rubs, so.” She scratches under Hannah’s chin absentmindedly. “How’ve you been, Chris? Like I even have to ask. Everyone in the medical community has been keeping a close eye on you since NASA snatched you up the second you made it out of medical school. I read that academic journal you published, by the way! The effect of daemons in deep space? It’s really fascinating work. If the Avengers ever need to be in space, that’s really useful information to have.”

Chris, ever humble, points out, “Those are theories for right now, not for NASA’s lack of trying.”

Both Quinn and Chris do what happens every time they meet which is talk doctor shop. Chris drops sheds some insight on how he’s been having his daemon helping him in surgery. Aidan makes some remarks about how he’d try to help and claw someone’s face up by accident which makes Chris cackle. Quinn recommends he get in contact with Helen Cho over in South Korea because she’s got some amazing work going, too.

 “Lord, every single time I see you, all I do is ask you about work,” Quinn interrupts. “How’s your personal life? How are you doing?”

“Yeah, and you do this every single time, too. We talk about work and then you ask me how I’m doing,” Chris remarks with a chuckle. “And like I always say, still single and ready to mingle. It’s a little harder than I thought to find someone who can work with the crazy schedule of a surgeon astronaut,” he jokes.

 “I know how that can be,” she says with a nod. “Thank God that Steve and Bucky work with me. When I’m on a mission, they’re usually there with me. When I’m home, they’re almost always at home, too. Oh! You haven’t met them, have you? I—uh, let me see where they are…”

At that exact moment, Steve clears his throat from behind her and Quinn whirls around. “Fellas, come meet one of my good friends.” She steps to the side so that they can see Chris—who is still on the ground, lavishing Aidan with attention.

Chris looks at them, all wide-eyed. Aidan snorts. “Don’t worry. Steve and Buck aren’t nearly as cool as everyone thinks they are.” Bucky narrows his eyes, but not at Aidan. He watches Chris warily. Steve’s looking a little guarded around the eyes, too. She wonders why. Obviously, Chris isn’t much of a threat.

 “Anyway,” she starts a little nervously. “This is Doctor Chris Beck. I’ve known him for years. Since he was in medical school, actually. I was working at the same hospital he started his residency at. He’llhopefully be heading to Mars soon if NASA can manage it.” They’re keeping their distance from Chris and her brows furrow. “He’s got the Aidan seal of approval, if that’s worth much. Come over here and meet him.”

Nora and Linda are the first to come approach Chris. Hannah hangs off Quinn’s arm upside down and examines Linda. Snakes are unusual daemons, same as bears. Linda snaps her hood open and hisses at Hannah in warning. Hannah screeches and scrambles back up in the tree. Quinn frowns at Linda, but it’s her fault for not warning Hannah that Linda still isn’t used to strangers.

Aidan, however, bitchily says to Linda, “Where’s that good mood you had earlier? Chris and Hannah wouldn’t hurt a fly. Chris is a doctor.”

 “Been hurt by plenty of doctors before, Aidan,” Linda snaps.

Chris winces. Just about everyone and their mother knows about the trauma Bucky and Linda have went through. Still, Aidan won’t baby Linda. He clumbers to his feet and moves over to tower over Linda. “Yeah? And what about Quinn?” Linda, rather than be threatened, raises up on her belly, hood open. “She’s a doctor, too.”

“Quinn is different,” Linda argues.

Hannah, in Quinn’s ear, murmurs, “I didn’t mean to upset her.”

Quinn scratches under Hannah’s chin and smiles apologetically. “I know. And don’t you mind Aidan and Linda. We’ve all been cooped up in the house all winter, it seems like. I think everyone has some cabin fever and we’re all a little testy.” She sighs and then, to Chris, she says, “Sorry, but I better let you and Hannah go before there’s a bloodbath in the park.”

“Yeah. I should probably head home soon, anyway. I’m meeting some new teammates today.”

Hannah leaps up into the tree to probably avoid Aidan and Linda who are still making snippy comments at each other and leaps over to Chris. “Let me know how it goes,” Quinn tells him. “It was nice to see you again. Don’t be a stranger, Chris.” Chris grins at her before he heads off in the other direction.

Linda hisses at Aidan, her version of the last word, and slithers over to Bucky. Aidan won’t let her have the last word, so he growls a little too loudly before he storms off in a whole other direction. Quinn glances sadly at Linda and Bucky before she follows after Aidan. An angry bear daemon all alone isn’t exactly a good thing.

Before she walks away, she hears Nora mutter, “So much for the nice day.”

[mentalmimosa]

paper heart dream

Prompts: Artist Colony and "I came to this resort to get away from my friends for a little while and plus I just got dumped by my stupid pig boyfriend and you’re staying in the room next door to mine and you can hear me crying a lot and now you’re being extra friendly what’s your angle?" Prompts from this generator.

At first, Buck didn’t notice the sounds. Or if he did, he chalked them up to passing bird or the wind or some shit; the kind of isolation the colony offered, the rush back into nature, still made him feel like he was in a foreign land, someplace that didn’t really want him there, that’d do whatever it could to chase him back to Brooklyn, back to real life, away from this paper heart dream of being a writer.

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t write.

Sure, he could put words on a page, but any idiot with a typewriter could do that. Ok, and, the selection committee for this artist retreat place had accepted his work; he’d applied and they’d read his stuff and they’d invited him anyway. That had to say something about his relative talents, right?

Those stories were easier to tell himself during the day, when the sun was shining and the breeze carried his cigarette smoke up and off of his cabin’s tiny porch and he could fill the silence with the clack of the keys, with memories of taxicabs and people and that certain unsettled rush that the sidewalks and side alleys of Brooklyn seemed to hold.

But later, when night drew the curtains and the crickets took over, he would squint at the pages he’d written and fucking despair. Because there was nothing there. No heart, no verve, no idea he had to communicate, had to get out of his head and onto the paper or else he’d die. The stuff he was making, the stories he was writing there in the most bucolic of settings, they didn’t breathe. They couldn’t. What he was building every morning were corpses.

It was especially galling because the guy next door, in a cabin that shared a wall, was a goddamned speed demon. He was a painter--abstract-y stuff, it looked like, based on the stuff he set out on his porch to dry--and he churned out more work in two days than Bucky had that whole first fucking week. It was embarrassing, was what it was.

He was quiet, the painter, pretty much kept to himself, and that Bucky appreciated; he had no interest in idle chit chat. It was hard enough to go to the main building each morning for breakfast and have to see everybody, have to nod a greeting every ten seconds when all Buck wanted to do was have his damn toast and coffee in peace. Sitting around the long, hand-carved table worn down by the dozens pairs of hands that had touched it over the years would be a dozen frazzled humans, everybody doing his best to exude confidence, or at the very least, productivity. There was Natasha, a potter, and Wanda, a mosaic maker, and Sam, another canvas rat who liked to work in multimedia instead of paint. There were others, too, but Buck made a point of trying to sit in the midst of those three, whom he found the least pretentious and least asshole-ish of the whole lot.

His neighbor, though, Steve, Mr. Prolific, Mr. Big Smile, Mr. Incredibly Pleasant Even at Seven AM, always sat at the far end near their hostess, the owner of the colony, a regal creature named Peggy. She was the nexus of the hardest charging among them, the ones who’d come to the lake having already made a bit of a name for themselves, having had a quick bite of the apple of artistic success. Meaning money. Meaning, Peggy drew to her the ones who were able to make a living from their art, a state that Bucky both resented and envied. He was tired of being a dock rat, that was damn true, but see the toadiness on display at breakfast each morning, the one the successful set swooned and mooned over Peggy like she was some damn debutante and not a wealthy dame in her fifties made Bucky feel ill. They already had money, at least some, and here he was hauling ropes and shucking crates when he should’ve spent every day chained to his typewriter, a pack of Lucky’s and half-empty mugs of cold coffee and a worn out Roget’s at his side.

He wanted their success, Steve’s, even a hint of it. And yet the possibility of recognition scared the shit of him.

So what he was writing was crap.

The noises at night then, when they started, had to work hard to get through the filter of bricks he’d built around his own head, not to mention the cloud of Wild Turkey. The first night, he thought birds; the second he blamed the wind; and only when they woke him up on the third did he try to figure out where they were coming from.

Bucky sat up and turned on the small bedside light. Not from the open window, the sound; only the echoes of the lake there. Not the door, bolted twice from the inside. So where--?

Another pulse of the noise, eerier now that he was listening, really hearing it. It sounded, Buck realized, so fucking sad --and it was coming from behind him, wasn’t it? From somewhere beyond the wall that lay between his cabin and Steve’s.

He tilted his head back, pressed his ear to the wall, and waited. Ten seconds. Twenty. Then it came again, louder this time, like the noise was leaning against the wall, too, its mouth near Bucky’s ear.

It was Steve. Jesus christ, Bucky thought, it really was. Mr. Perfect himself. And it sounded like he was bawling his eyes out but trying to smother it, somehow, to hide, to be sure that nobody would hear.

Later, he wasn’t sure what made him do it. A chance to see a great man put under? A childish desire to reassure himself that there really wasn’t a monster under his bed? Simple curiosity, maybe. Whatever the reason, the result was the same: Bucky slipped out of bed and padded across the floor and in two shakes, ten heartbeats, he was putting a gentle fist to Steve’s door.

[theliterateape]

Gambling with the Currency at Hand

by Don Hall

At every casino in Las Vegas there are these pamphlets. Usually hidden away behind a sign that indicates that one must inspect their sports ticket before leaving the Sportsbook or a promotion for “$30,000 Credit for Gaming” with four paragraphs of fine print underneath. These trifold informational pieces are colored in a dull brown and beige — a sunset photo — with a muted title: “When the Fun Stops”.

“Some problem gamblers may gamble to relieve boredom or avoid feelings of anxiousness or stress. Others may gamble to ‘numb out’ when feeling helpless, guilty, or depressed.” — from “When the Fun Stops” by The Nevada Council on Problem Gambling

In a year and a half of working in an Off-Strip casino flanked by an In-and-Out Burger, a Wendy’s, and a Siegel Suites, I never saw a single soul pick one up and peruse its contents.

The marketing of Las Vegas has promoted an adult playground of gambling, booze, and sex sans accountability for decades. From the days of the Rat Pack to the glamour of Steve Wynn, the city has made its bones on these core values. For every tourist from Japan or Iowa, however, there is someone who lives here in the grimy shadow of weekend fun, either cleaning up the mess left behind or searching through the refuse for something missed as the hungover travelers disembark.

Debra worked in HR for a local company for years. She was born in New Jersey and moved to Nevada in the early 2000’s with her sister. Her life was relatively average — some bills, a mortgage, car payments — nothing beyond her means. One day she slipped and injured herself in a Big Box store and sued. She won an insurance claim just north of a million dollars.

She planned on living off of this payout through her retirement. She paid off some loans, bought a car, financed a home for she and her sister. No more working for a living was almost a daily mantra. This life, however, bored her beyond words. They were in Vegas, after all, and the sirens of slot winnings sung their tune.

Five years later, most of the million dollars has been spent on video poker. Debra is broke but still plays three times a week with money she no longer has for money she won’t see again.

"Most people who gamble do so with no harmful effects. They set limits and stick to them. However, for a small percentage of the population, gambling can become more than a game, and lead to serious consequences for both the gambler and their family.

Here are some of the warning signs:

Gambling to escape worry or trouble Gambling to get money to solve financial difficulties Unable to stop playing regardless of winning or losing Gambling until the last dollar is gone Losing time from work due to gambling Borrowing money to pay gambling debts Neglecting family because of gambling Lying about time and money spent gambling" — from “When the Fun Stops” by The Nevada Council on Problem Gambling

Teddy was a Big Deal in the world of fossil fuel safety protocol. It ain’t Tom Cruise or Barack Obama territory but it had paid extremely well for a long time. He was a hefty man with a booming laugh and a warm smile that sort of expanded his charm two or three feet around him.

When Teddy came there were some rules. This guy spent so much money in one sitting the General Manager would comment that if Teddy wanted everyone in the casino out so he could play in peace they’d be escorted off the property until Teddy was done. It never came to that but the rules were simple:

Teddy played the two ‘Dancing Drums’ slots exclusively, so the machines on either side were shut off.

He drank Sierra Mist and was on a constant refill protocol.

He was gregarious but didn’t want to be bothered by anyone so keeping the hangers-on on the floor away was key.

Teddy always played the maximum bet which for his machines was $8.80 per spin. He routinely dropped between $10,000.00 and $25,000.00 in an afternoon. He'd likely hit four or five jackpots in the $1,600.00 to $4,500.00 range. And he never tipped.

That was such an odd aspect of this guy. He obviously had tons of idle cash but was cheap when it came to the expected Vegas fee for service. It wasn't as if he was a lowball tipper -- he simply did not tip for any reason. He was our definition of a high roller yet behaved like the cat who'd come in looking for nothing but his $10.00 of free play and hopefully a comp drink.

"...eventually funds may not be available to meet the most basic needs of food, clothing, shelter, etc. In desperation the gambler may begin lying and/or stealing to cover up the problems, creating further stress for everyone around them." — from “When the Fun Stops” by The Nevada Council on Problem Gambling

When I first encountered TC and his mother I was hit by the sadness in their situation. He and I were roughly the same age but, as I've been told we are all four bad decisions from homeless, he made all four of them and I had a couple more to go.

Walking the perimeter of the casino, I see an ancient Honda Civic parked slightly off the lines. In the drivers seat is a tall, skinny man, slightly hunched over smoking a butt out the window. He looks sunbaked like people do in the desert, his skin taut and leathery. Next to him is an old woman. Old like those pictures you see from Appalachia in National Geographic. She has an oxygen tube in her nose and is simply staring out the cracked windshield off into a distance I cannot fathom.

"You doing OK out here?" I ask in that managerial tone.

"Yah. We're good. Just waiting until we can get a room."

"You wanna come inside? It's, like, 112 degrees out here and I imagine your friend..."

"My mother..."

"...your mother might feel better in the air conditioning."

"Sho..."

He had an odd linguistic affectation in his speech that made him sound a bit like a child, his mouth wrapping around vowels that rounded them out. He dropped his square, got out of the creaky car, and pulled out a wheelchair that would've been at home next to the dirty doll Charleston Heston found at the climax of The Planet of the Apes.

I put them in the Sportsbook, grabbed a couple of waters for them, and spent a few minutes sleuthing their story. 

TC was well-known by some of the long-term staff. He used to be a player but hit hard times a few years back. No one knew what he had done for a living or how he was surviving but the profile was of someone now homeless, living in his car and occasionally a month-long stay at the hotel attached to our casino so his mother could sleep in a bed. He still was on the free play marketing list but rarely had the dollar to activate it.

"As they continue to gamble, they become more and more emotionally and mentally dependent on gambling, with less and less control. The long-term result is a steady deterioration of the mental and physical health of both the gambler and their family." — from “When the Fun Stops” by The Nevada Council on Problem Gambling

On some fundamental Irish level, I understand this compulsion. While never much into gambling my money as I've never been heavily motivated by its acquisition, my career since college has been a series of driving along the highway at night and wondering if I could survive the impulse of just letting the steering wheel go and closing my eyes.

In ‘89, I graduated and randomly chose Chicago as my new home without the safety net of knowing anyone in Chicago, having a job or prospects, or having ever been in the city. It was the move of a gambler throwing dice to see if the come-out was a natural and betting everything he had.

I lived in my car for four months as I explored this new city and looked for gainful employment, feeding myself and gassing up my home by playing trumpet on street corners downtown.

My chosen field was that of a music teacher and I did that in the public school system on the west side for a decade. Why quit teaching after ten years? Why not? I started a non-profit comedy theater that evolved into something weird but fun. Did that for fifteen years then quit to go work for NPR. A decade later, I decided to move to Las Vegas because isn't that what the hopelessly addicted to risk do?

Debra was distraught.

“Oh my gawd,” she moaned as she pumped another $20.00 in the video poker machine. “My sister’s birthday is Wednesday and I have to pick up her cake but I don’t have the $17.00 to pay for it!”

The odd disconnect between her dilemma and the twenty she just pushed into the bill validator was obvious to me but not at all to her.

“Debra. Why not cash out that machine and use that?” I said, smiling behind my mask.

“Huh? Ah, no, no, no. This money is for poker. I can’t use it for her cake. Maybe if I win some today...”

The next day I get a phone call. It’s Debra. Can I loan her $20.00 until Thursday? I can and I do. She sends me pictures of the party, socially distanced from her garage. Thursday she swings by and palms me the twenty like it’s a tip I’m not supposed to receive.

In the ongoing search for the true American experience, it seems obvious that it exists inside the off-strip casino. A room filled with shiny lights and electronic sounds populated with every stripe from every tribe: wealthy, impoverished, black, white, brown, make, female, non-binary, old, young, fat, thin, liberal, conservative, libertarian, beautiful, homely. All in the room for exactly the same reason: a short term investment in a possible future fueled by luck and circumstance.

Everyone who walks into the casino is prepared to gamble with the currency at hand. That currency cannot be defined simply by dollars available but the intertwined filthy lucre of personality, desire, and need with need being the characteristic with the most pungent strength.

Teddy wasn’t big on chit-chat. He came to plug in the dough and whack the spin buttons with a slap. Except with me. With me, for some unexplained reason, there was small talk.

“I love to travel, Don. Have you traveled?”

“I have. Used to play jazz trumpet for a living and went all over the globe with that.”

“Where’s your favorite place?”

“Edinburgh, Scotland. Took a theater company there for a month in ‘95 and fell in love with the place.”

“Oooooh! I’ve never been there! I have a lady friend I’d like to take someplace new. What else you got on Scotland?”

I went to my office, did some online searches, and put together a PDF of prices and places in Edinburgh. I dropped it off at his machine when he was cashing in a voucher.

His reaction was effusive.

“It’s people like you that make me come here, you know? The big properties are always offering me comp rooms and meals but they can’t give me the feeling of friendship that the people here do.”

Over the course of a few months, I gleaned that Teddy had lost his wife to cancer years before and that his children would have little to do with him. He often had “lady friends” but no one consistent and most were decades younger than he. Teddy was an almost desperately lonely man and felt less so in the casino where his propensity to be a high roller made him feel like he was important.

The 1995 trip to Scotland was another improbable gamble. The small nonprofit theater company I had founded was fraying at the edges. The ensemble needed a goal to achieve and I decided that taking a show to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe with seventeen actors who had no disposable incomes to speak of was just thee thing. I cashed in my pension from the days of teaching and managed a few sponsorships.

It was both financially devastating and artistically remarkable. In the parlance of the gambling addict, it was a win. I lost my ass and gained a cherished city.

TC checked he and his mother into a room one February night a month before the place was shut down by pandemic. During the graveyard shift, his mother was picked up by paramedics and transferred to a hospital. The next day, TC was outside in the courtyard weeping as if the world had ended.

She had been misdiagnosed, given the wrong medication, and had died during the early hours of the morning. TC was filled with sadness and guilt and a sense of impotent rage so like so many on the ass end of life.

He was without options. He was unemployed and unemployable. His one lifeline was his mother both in a financial way but also in that indelible manner that having a daily task, someone to care for, gives a person distraction from the crushing despair of living.

I brought him a bottle of water and a pack of cigarettes and sat down with him for a moment during my shift.

“I don’t know.” he said unprompted after a few minutes of sitting together.

“What don’t you know?”

“I don’t know what to do. They killed my mother. They didn’t even care. When I came in to the hospital, they took me to her and she was just dead. The doctor didn’t even apologize. They wanted to know how I was going to pay for her disposal. That’s how they said it. Her disposal. I used to come here, you know? When I had money? I used to gamble and laugh. I haven’t laughed in years.”

“You did the best you could.”

“NO, I DIDN’T! I didn’t do the best I could. How do you live with yourself knowing you didn’t?”

“I don’t know.”

I think about when the fun stopped for him or if it was ever really fun at all. I wonder if those in my current position watched it happen as TC went from being someone in between Debra and Teddy and started that slide into who he was in front of me and what responsibly did they take as witness to the decline.

Does the bartender bear some accountability to the alcoholic? Does the pimp have some obligation for the john? The casino feeds off of the weaknesses of thousands who come in from out of town to throw away their disposable income on a Hennessy-soaked memory haze of unfettered vice but does it have some sort of moral obligation to the folks who live here and still cash in their downfall with such abandon?

Sometime during the re-opening of Vegas following the COVID shutdown I realized that the place was leaving a mark. Not so much a scar but a dark bruise. A wound underneath the skin and, since there was no one to hand me a pamphlet, I decided that the fun had, indeed, stopped for me.

When I announced to Debra that I was leaving the casino, that I had found work that paid more and was remote to boot, she was distraught.

“This place. We get diamonds and they leave as soon as we get used to them.”

“The West?”

“Vegas. It’s a hard place for good people to thrive. Don’t. Don’t say I’m a good person. I’m not. I try but I’m not. Vegas eats up people. It chews on their hopes and dreams and spits them back out. Oh, I’m so depressed right now.”

She pumped another twenty into the machine and continued to chase the four aces.

“Did you hate it here?”

“Vegas? No. I love it.”

“No. The West. Did you hate it here?”

“No. It’s dirty and seedy but there is a thing about places like this that resonate a tune so few can recall singing. You ever read Neil Gaiman’s ‘American Gods’? The old gods can only congregate in places of bizarre spiritual congruence like House on the Rock or Disneyland. The West is like one of those mythic, tacky places in which the old gods gather.”

“You’re so weird. This is not a spiritual place. It’s a casino.”

“One and the same, Debra.”

Teddy never went to Edinburgh as far as I know. When Vegas re-opened, he stopped coming in to play. That has been the way of things during pandemic. Those with options other than Vegas found different games of chance. I can think of a dozen regular big players whom I haven’t seen since things turned sour. Perhaps the place lost its luster when requiring masks on everyone was too much a reminder of the outside world.

A week or so before I turned in my name badge and Title 31 credentials, TC came in. I hadn’t seen him since that day in the courtyard. He was wearing new clothes. His face was fuller as if he’d somehow become hydrated and healthier. He was obviously clean and his hair had grown out and been cut. 

He pulled down his mask. “Look! They’re implants!” he crowed as his brand new choppers shone in the light. “This is my wife!” and he motioned to a matronly Latina woman who seemed thrilled to meet me.

TC had sued the hospital. Vegas has a billboard for every fifty feet of highway announcing a lawyer waiting to help you cash in on tragedy and it is fitting that TC took advantage of one of them and made bank.

Like the rest of us he was simply gambling with the cards he was dealt, with the currency available to him. Will he squander it, buying pieces of hope, looking for another jackpot? Probably but that’s Vegas. That’s America, isn’t it? 

The America Dream we were promised is just another handpay pot of gold to be gambled away on the promise of the next dream, so why not? How can the fun stop if it was never really fun in the first place?