#However one day the usual route to work is blocked off due to a police investigation

[the-insanity-of-mojiru]

Crossing Guard(ian)

The story of an office lady who is bullied at work, and a middle school student who patrols the nearby railroad crossing.

#The full story for those who are curious #Echo and Wil end up talking every day on her way to work at this crossing #However one day the usual route to work is blocked off due to a police investigation #Echo later finds out from the news that a middle school student jumped in front of a train at that crossing #He didn't have any ID on him but he was carrying around a piece of paper that said 'I'll go first' #Echo and William just have this dynamic a lot #In truth there's another story with the two of them where Echo talks to Kokkuri-san which is the spirit of a dead student aka William #I drew a panel for it way back when but I can't remember if I posted it or not #Maybe I'll end up doing a full comic but no promises #Insanity Draws #Insanity of Mojiru #Femme Fatale Series #Night Jasmine #透明な無名世界

[tomeandflickcorner]

Episode Review- The Real Ghostbusters: The Bird of Kildarby

Wow, this was a really good, well-thought out episode! Well done, show writers!

It’s a summer day in Central Park, and Mayor Lenny is overseeing an unveiling ceremony.  It appears some billionaire philanthropist, Warner Applegate III, has purchased an old Irish Castle and relocated it to New York City so it can be used as the centerpiece of the gala summer festival.  As Mayor Lenny is delivering his speech in front of the castle, he’s suddenly interrupted by the sound of pipe and drum music.  Mayor Lenny is not the least bit pleased that the music has interrupted his speech, so he instructs his aide, Milo, to go see what’s causing it.  However, seconds after crossing the castle’s threshold, Milo is abruptly thrown backwards by an unseen force and falls into the moat surrounding the castle. The same thing occurs to some police officers when they get sent inside.  Mayor Lenny is then approached by some reporters, who ask him if the castle was haunted.  But Mayor Lenny is quick to dismiss this possibility.  Which is kinda strange, as he must know by now that ghosts do exist.  Maybe he just was reluctant to believe that this particular location was haunted? Either way, when he tries to enter the castle himself, he also gets blown backwards and a voice is heard, warning anyone from entering Castle Kildarby.  Mayor Lenny relents and decides to call in the Ghostbusters.

When the Ghostbusters arrive on the scene, we get a moment that actually made me laugh. Mayor Lenny immediately complains how long it took for them to get there.  Peter responds by suggesting he should have hired someone more punctual and says they’ll leave.  And then they actually start to drive away until Mayor Lenny stops them.  Once that display of snarkyness is out of the way, Mayor Lenny explains the background of the castle.  It had once belonged to Lord Liam Kildarby, but he ended up selling it to Warner Applegate III the previous year because he was down on his luck. The Ghostbusters start to walk into Castle Kildarby, with the pipe music being heard as they approach.  Egon checks his PKE Meter and determines there is a high amount of energy coming from inside the castle.  The moment he says this, Ray is suddenly grabbed by a ghostly figure and pulled into the castle, with the portcullis coming down moments later, preventing Egon, Winston and Peter from going after their friend. Thankfully, Ray is soon thrown off from the castle parapet, landing safely in the moat below.  After climbing out of the water, Ray informs the others that, during the brief amount of time he was inside the castle, he was able to determine there were hundreds of ghosts inside Castle Kildarby, and they all were following the command of one leader.  Egon decides their best option was to focus on dealing with the leader of these ghosts, and Ray consults Tobin’s Spirit Guide on a handheld device he had on hand in order to get some more background on Castle Kildarby.  In doing so, Ray learns that in the 15th century, Lord Kildarby and his men were all killed when an invading army staged a surprise attack. However, the invaders weren’t able to remain in the castle for a single night because Lord Kildarby and his men came back as ghosts and flung all of them over the parapet.  Once the invaders left, the Kildarby family was able to move back in.  From that day on, there were only occasional spirit manifestations, which usually took the form of the pipe music.  

Peter quickly decides this should be an easy enough problem to fix.  All they have to do is convince Lord Kildarby that the war is over.  So he calls out for Lord Kildarby, requesting an audience with him while claiming his name is O’Venkman.  Lord Kildarby seems to accept the request and invites Peter to enter, with two ghosts in suits of armor appearing to escort Peter inside.  For some reason, Egon, Ray and Winston remain outside.  I guess it was true that only Peter was invited inside, but Lord Kildarby didn’t say anything against the others entering as well.

Regardless, Peter is brought into Castle Kildarby’s dining hall, where Lord Kildarby is waiting with the rest of his ghostly army.  Peter cuts right to the chase and asks Lord Kildarby why the ghosts were throwing the people of New York out of the castle.  Lord Kildarby replies by saying that they’ve been repelling intruders for 400 years.  Peter points out that the castle now belongs to the city, but this just makes Lord Kildarby angry.  And Peter doesn’t help matters when he actually points his Proton Pack at him. Lord Kildarby promptly orders his men to seize Peter, who wisely decides to retreat as he is vastly outnumbered by the ghostly army.  

Peter begins to run through the castle with the ghostly army in hot pursuit.  At one point, Peter nearly manages to give them the slip by ducking into the castle library and slipping into an empty suit of armor, thereby disguising himself as one of the ghosts.  But his cover is quickly blown when he accidentally bumps into a wall and breaks his helmet.  Once again, Peter has to run for his life.  This time, he nearly is able to make it outside where the other Ghostbusters are waiting. But his escape route is then blocked when the portcullis once again is lowered. So the ghost army is able to apprehend Peter.

The other Ghostbusters, deciding that they better come to Peter’s rescue, break through the portcullis with their Proton Packs and enter Castle Kildarby.  They soon manage to locate a castle chamber filled to the brim with ghosts.  Despite the fact that they were outnumbered and surrounded, Ray announced they were there to negotiate Peter’s release, claiming that they had the ability to reduce the castle to rubble if their request was denied.

So Ray, Egon and Winston are brought before Lord Kildarby, who soon has Peter brought into the room as well.  With the Ghostbusters reunited, the second attempt at negotiations can begin.  Lord Kildarby, as one might expect, is incensed at the notion of negations.  And he is greatly insulted by the suggestion that he and his army relocate to low income housing units over on 150th Street. (Which is in Harlem, apparently.)  Before he can really blow a gasket, though, one of his guards whispers something into his ear.  Lord Kildarby seems to approve of what the guard had to say, and he suggests they make a wager.  If the Ghostbusters are able to defeat his pet bird, then he and his ghost army would willingly leave Castle Kildarby.  But if they fail to defeat the bird, then ‘everyone must leave this island, and never set foot on it again.’ After briefly discussing the matter amongst themselves, the Ghostbusters decide to accept the wager.  After all, how much trouble could one bird be?  And if they lose, it just means nobody can enter the castle.  Of course, once they accept the wager, Lord Kildarby reveals that when he said ‘island,’ he didn’t mean the small patch of land the castle was standing on.  He actually meant all of Manhattan.  And to make things even worse, when the Ghostbusters head outside to face the Bird of Kildarby, they learn that they’re not dealing with a little parakeet or anything like that.  The Bird of Kildarby is a massive 500 lb demonic creature.

The Bird of Kildarby proceeds to attack the Ghostbusters, who only just manage to dodge in time.  They retreat into the Ecto-1 for cover, but of course, Ray is having trouble getting the car to start.  He eventually manages to start the car after Winston slams a fist against the dashboard, but not before the Bird of Kildarby rips the roof of the Ecto-1 clean off. For a while, the Ghostbusters simply drive through the city streets as the Bird of Kildarby flies after them. And it goes without saying that both the Ghostbusters and the Bird of Kildarby cause quite a bit of collateral damage, making me wonder if any civilians were injured during this chase sequence.  As they continue trying to evade the Bird of Kildarby, Peter asks Egon if he thinks the Containment Unit could hold it.  Egon says it could, but the Ghost Traps are too small to trap the bird.  Fortunately, this gave Peter an idea.

The Ghostbusters soon arrive back at the Firehouse, nearly crashing into Janine’s desk due to their haste to get inside and execute Peter’s plan.  The plan involves linking two Ghost Traps together and hooking up one of them directly into the Containment Unit.  This would apparently result in the Bird of Kildarby being immediately transferred into the Containment Unit upon being captured.  The Ghostbusters only have enough time to set things up before the Bird of Kildarby crashes through the wall of the Firehouse.  Before the Bird of Kildarby has a chance to harm anyone, though, the Ghostbusters manage to successfully trap it inside the hooked up Ghost Trap, with Peter’s plan working without a hitch.

In the aftermath of the successful capture of the Bird of Kildarby, the Ghostbusters meet with Mayor Lenny outside Castle Kildarby in order to give him their invoice.  Mayor Lenny accepts the payment amount listed and then asks the Ghostbusters how they managed to get rid of the ghosts haunting Castle Kildarby. However, it’s then revealed that the ghosts still reside inside the castle. The Ghostbusters managed to come to an agreement with Lord Kildarby.  As long as the ghosts agreed not to scare any of the tourists during the day, they would be allowed to remain in the castle.  After all, they really had nowhere else to go.  Mayor Lenny reluctantly accepts this, but still asks about the pipe and drum music.  Peter assures him that no music will be heard.  At least, none before sundown.  

I honestly have a hard time coming with anything to complain about or nitpick with this episode!  Which is probably a good thing.  And I really did approve of how things were resolved.  Because this castle really is Lord Kildarby and company’s home. How would you feel if someone just up and tried to kick you out onto the street?  Even the prolonged chase sequences, which can get old really fast in some episodes, still managed to be well-paced.  And of course, we get a really cool looking creature design with the Bird of Kildarby. In fact, apart from the wings and talons, it doesn’t even look like a bird.  It really makes me wonder how they come up with these designs in the first place.

(Click here for more Ghostbusters reviews)

#the real ghostbusters #rgb episode review #ghostbusters franchise

[gabrielllas]

you talked about rio and johnny being twins a few days ago and i cannot get the idea out of my head. beth running into johnny when he's all bundled up and she can't see he's not tattooed, him being confused until he puts it together that she thinks he's rio, him goading rio about it, beth and johnny ganging up on rio when the truth gets out?!! i need someone else to write the fic pls i'm desperate

Omg i love this!! I actually had something different in mind so i loved reading a different take! Here’s mine (this got way out of hand omg im sorry lets ignore the many mistakes i defo missed):

Johnny & Rio grew up in Long Beach with their mother&father&little sister. Rio’s always been quiet, not shy, just quiet. Johnny is loud and is always making conversation with people and has a certain charm. (Rio also has that charm but is quieter with it.)

When their father dies due to a crime related activity (he was an innocent bystander) Johnny & Rio deal with his death in different ways. Johnny signs up to the force and wants justice that way, wants to make a difference to Long Beach forever. Rio however, believes that if the police actually did their jobs correctly, his father would still be alive, so he takes a different route.

Rio joins the gang and starts climbing up the ladder, Johnny isn’t aware as he’s focused on his training and okay, his twin is a good liar when he calls to check in.

Rio eventually gets justice for his father but Long Beach isn’t the same to him, he grows to hate it and wants change.

Johnny joins the force and does well. He tells his brother of the arrests he makes, of his progress with the local gangs because he wants Rio to be proud of the work he’s doing. Wants his brother to know he’s doing it for his father, but Rio doesn’t see it that way. Every time Johnny calls him it causes more heat for Rio and all of sudden it’s just too much for him. Rio wants out, needs out, he hates Long Beach and he can’t get further in the crime world without fucking his own brother over.

His best friend, Mick, tells him of a player in Detroit whose slowly falling down the ladder and it’s the perfect in for Rio. Detroit is close to the boarder, good for business, and far away from Long Beach. Far away from the haunting memories.

Rio manages to convince his ma and little sister to come with him, he knows the in’s and out’s of the gangs all around Long Beach and he can’t protect them from them if he’s in Detroit. It’s easier than he thought it would be, Long Beach lost it’s meaning to them too without his father around.

Johnny is furious when he finds out, he ain’t one to throw the first punch usually but how could his own twin do to him? Convince their ma to leave their home, to leave him, when Johnny is trying to make Long Beach a better place. For all of them.

When they’re arguing Rio tells Johnny he isn’t changing shit, that he did more change than him and no matter how high up Johnny is, Rio would still have done more.

It all comes out then what Rio’s job actually is, what he actually does and Johnny just feels so many things. Confused, betrayed, angry, dumb.

Dumb how he missed this, betrayed that Rio would go against the system, angry that Rio thinks his job amounts to nothing, confused as to why his brother wouldn’t tell him.

Johnny doesn’t even know who his brother is anymore, he died along with his father. He tries to plead with his mother to stay, stay in Long Beach but even his own words sound weak to him. Rio’s words ring in his ear how he isn’t changing shit, and the violent images of the cases he’s on run through his mind. His family leave Long Beach and Johnny’s determined to prove his brother wrong, will shove it in his face when he’s done it but until then, they don’t speak.

Rio gets set up in Detroit and slowly creates his own empire, his ma&sister believe he owns a few bars and he keeps it that way. His mother tries to understand why him and Johnny aren’t talking anymore but they both don’t tell her why. For holidays his ma&sister go back to Long Beach to spend it with Johnny, Rio doesn’t go.

A few years past and Rio has Marcus with Rhea, the pregnancy surprising both of them cause they just broke up. They try and make it work but it ain’t for them so they settle into co-parenting.

Johnny works his way into Graceland and finally starts making change with his undercover work.

His ma tells him that Rio had a kid, he gets wasted that night trying to decide if he should call. He does call in the end but Rio doesn’t pick up.

When Marcus is 5, Elizabeth steals her way into Rio’s life. It’s a messy road and Rio thinks it comes to an end when Elizabeth tells him she blocked his number, but then she calls him and they make it work.

While Rio tries to navigate this whole new thing with Elizabeth, Johnny slowly falls off his own path.

Graceland gives him a new family, a new place to call home in Long Beach but it slowly starts to fall apart. Graceland isn’t what he thought it was and it becomes corrupt. The whole system becomes so corrupt to him and he feels so lost, his whole purpose in life just dies.

When Graceland falls through he goes to Detroit, needs to see his ma&sister and his brother.

Johnny surprises them by coming home on their birthday, his ma throwing Rio a party despite him hating birthday parties his whole life. When his ma answers the door she’s so happy to see him and for the first time in a long time, he feels home again.

When Rio sees Johnny at the door he doesn’t even know how to react, what to say, what to do and then Marcus&Elizabeth are shocked as well because they didn’t know about Johnny.

His ma directs everyone outside so they can talk, Rio can hear her praying as she past walks him and Elizabeth gives him that look and he ain’t looking forward to that conversation later.

Johnny can’t help but ask first why Marcus doesn’t know about him. Rio tells him no point confusing the kid with an uncle who ain’t around.

Rio asks Johnny why he’s here, wanting all this over and done with. Johnny crashes down onto the couch and tells him everything about Graceland and what’s happened to him in past few years.

Rio just stands and listens to him. Eventually Johnny tells him that he knows what Rio’s does, knows the intel they have on him.

“They know about your girl too. Didn’t think she was your type to be honest. Suits you though.”

“Lucia was your type, knew that was coming a mile away.”

“You kept tabs on me?” He ain’t angry, just curious.

“Had to know you weren’t gonna try and come for me.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Rio just hums and sits next to him.

Then they just sit in silence together.

“Why’d you get an owl for a throat tat?”

Rio tackles him to the floor.

The next few weeks they slowly start to become brothers again, Johnny trying to find a new purpose in life and Rio slowly starting to open up about his life. It’s a long progress but they’re happy to be brothers again.

#lets not think to deeply about this haha #also fuck knows where graceland is set #for this fic its in long beach #lets move past it #anyway #this just fell right outta me and it was cool to write #you didnt even ask for this anon im so sorry hahaha #johnny tuturro #rio #rio&johnny #answered #Anonymous

[beeblebrox-be-damned]

Silohuette (Part 2: Implantation)

Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

TW: Kidnapping

Mornings were a drag, especially when it was cloudy. You didn’t mind when you weren’t working, but when you were it made your job hell. People were always sour and soaked. Not only did that mean any conversation was clipped and angry, but they tipped much less. Sometimes, not at all.

The woman in the back now was older, almost matronly, but wore a grim scowl. Her hat dripped, a felt number that had soaked up the rain all too readily.

“Where to, ma’am?” you asked politely, switching the wipers up to a higher gear as the rain pounded harder on the windshield.

“Park Avenue,” she grunted, wringing out her hat… right into the floorboard of your taxi. You sighed quietly.

“Ma’am, if you wouldn’t mind, could you please refrain from doing that in here?” You kept your voice as light as possible, carefully pulling back into traffic. She glanced up at you and frowned.

“Well I never!” she huffed, placing the sodden lump of felt on the seat beside her. She said nothing more. You hoped that you didn’t just retract from your tip. Of course, having a water puddle of a floormat wouldn’t help that matter for the other patrons later on.

The city’s traffic was at a crawl due to the weather. There weren’t as many cars as there would’ve been three years ago, but it was still overly crowded. The drive from your current location to where you were headed would be a long one. One a clear day, it’d take twenty minutes, but with the current deluge it would be more like thirty-five.

You grimaced as you drove. The pay for this trip would be higher, but you’d be better off with several shorter trips. The compounded tips would bring in a better profit margin. You gave an inward groan as honks assaulted your ears. Typical New York.

Thirty-three point five minutes later, Park Avenue came into view. You raised your eyebrow as Stark Tower rose on the skyline. Maybe, you thought, you’d be able to pick up more generous business there. “What building, ma’am?”

The elderly woman huffed once more. “Just on the side of the street. I want to get out of this damned taxi.”

You held back a growl of frustration, opting to tell her the fee instead of responding. She roughly shoved a couple bills at you.

“Keep the change,” she snapped, opening the door and storming out of the vehicle with a mutter about “the rudeness of young folk today”. You rolled your eyes. Ah yes, an entire twenty-three cent tip, and you were the rude one.

Sighing, you continued forward, scanning slowly. Someone waved you down, and you pulled off to the side. You looked up through the windshield, impressed even in the bad weather by Stark Tower. It was huge, the pinnacle of modern innovation.

The passenger door open and a man with a hoodie ducked inside quickly. “Good Lord, it’s really pouring out there,” he grunted. He pulled back the hood and your recognized him instantly. It seemed he recognized you too. “Hey,” hey exclaimed, “it’s you!”

“Yup, it’s me. Where to?” You kept your words short, not exactly keen on having a conversation, no matter how attractive and charismatic the stranger was. You’d spoken to him several more times after the night he’d asked for change, but in never went beyond small-talk.

“Downtown. Actually, just out of town.” He sat back in the seat comfortably, seeming unbothered by the wet spot the lady’s hat had left. “Is that alright?”

You nodded. “It’ll cost a bit extra, though.” He shrugged.

“No problem there.” Most people were bothered by it despite the logic behind the fee. You were glad he didn’t try to argue. Maybe he didn’t have to worry about those few extra dollars.

“So,” you asked as you pulled out, curiosity getting the best of you, “Stark Tower, huh?” You slammed your hand on the car horn as some hot-shot driver cut in front of you, slinging water everywhere.

The man looked concerned for a moment as you grumbled in frustration, but then relaxed as you moved on. “Yes. I don’t go in most days, actually, but I had some business to take care of. Turn right up here.”

You realized you’d never asked the address. “So where exactly are we headed?” You hung the right and continued down the block.

“A friend’s house. I don’t actually know the name but I know how to get there.”

You raised your eyebrow. Strange, but as long as he paid the fare. You continued on as the rain beat down, following his directions. Soon you’d gone fairly far out of town, to a sparse neighborhood of wealthy looking homes, much nicer than anything you’d even ever been in.

“Just up here. That little alley, please. He only uses the back door.” You turned off the street and down a relatively clean alleyway.

“That’ll be $15 please. Ten for the drive and five for the out-of-town fee.” You parked the cab, turning around to look at your patron.

He smiled as he dug into his pocket. “So, you gonna be at the pub tonight?” He asked.

You nodded, looking up to clean a smudge of mud off the dash. “More than likely. I spend most of my free-time there.”

In an instant, his hand was wrapped around your mouth. The window to separate the front and back seats shattered as he swung his left fist at it. Glass flew everywhere. You never had a chance to scream as he pressed a rag over your mouth and nose. You struggled to breath, but as soon as you inhaled you began to feel woozy.

“Not tonight, sweetheart, sorry. Not anymore,” he murmured apologetically in your ear as you slipped into unconsciousness.

Bucky hadn’t intended to act so quickly. That night he first talked to you, he laid awake, a plan forming in his head. The next day he spent finding out more about you, like your name and your family history. He had been saddened to find out all your relatives were dead or dusted, but it also made his plan a lot easier to pull off. There’d be almost nobody looking for you.

He’d been appalled to find out you drove a cab for a living. There was a lot of danger in that, despite the precautions drivers took. It seemed that your life was rife with dangers, from work to home and everywhere in between. The thought of anything happening to you made his heart seize. It made it all the more easier to realize that this was the right thing to do.

He trailed you for several days, each night trying to strike up a conversation with you in the bar so he wouldn’t be so unfamiliar. You were friendly, but kept it short and simple. He understood not wanting to talk much, though. When he’d first joined Steve and the Avengers, he hardly talked for months. Now, however, he could honestly call each one of them a friend.

With the technology available at the Tower, it was easy to effectively erase you from records. he was quite a bit better with computers than everyone thought, even better than Steve despite Steve’s extra years of experience. Soon, you were practically wiped out of the system. Only some basic information was left, as he’d need it someday later on.

Today he’d needed to talk to Steve, which was part of the reason he was at the Tower. After paying a woman near your usual route to take the cab to Park Avenue, he’d rushed back to the Tower to make some last minute arrangements. He’d told Steve that the night before he had been walking and ran across a mugging. Bucky lied and claimed he’d killed the mugger, but didn’t want to get in trouble for killing outside of a mission when the police inevitably found out what had happened. After all, with Bucky being formerly of HYDRA, there was a lot of suspicion still cast on him.

He’d asked Steve to help him get the mugger’s apartment cleared out so that perhaps people would just think they’d just moved. Steve had readily agreed, eager to help his friend. A group of hired men would gut the apartment later that day and bring all the items to Bucky’s so he could dispose of them.

Bucky felt bad for lying to Steve, but it had been necessary. Eventually he’d tell him what he’d really done, but only after you were happy and willingly with him. Then, Steve would be able to understand how much better off you were, even if they way you’d gotten there was a bit unethical.

Your belongings, as planned, would be sent to Bucky’s house. He’d sort through them to find things you’d likely want to keep, such as personal mementos, but the rest he’d toss. He’d store what he kept until later when he’d determined you ready to have them back.

After that was done, he went out and stood in the rain. He’d known roughly what time you should get there, but he wanted to be out there early, just in case. His heart had nearly leapt out of his chest when he saw you pull up and drop off the old woman. It wasn’t the one he’d paid, and yet she had been going exactly where he needed you to be. He grinned. It was as though the universe itself knew that this was for the best.

He’d feigned surprise when he got into the cab and saw you. The house he directed you to wasn’t his friend’s house as he’d claimed. He didn’t want to admit it was his or even say the address aloud in case there were cameras set up in the cab as a precaution. It was unlikely anyone would find the cab after he disposed of it into the river, but you could never be too careful.

He thought he’d choke up at the last second when you pulled into the alley behind his home, but to his surprise, taking you was the easiest thing he’d ever done. There was no guilt, no fear. He knew this was where you needed to be.

As soon as you were unconscious, he allowed the rag to drop from your face. He smiled and ran his thumb over your cheek. You were so beautiful. He got out of the cab and rounded the car quickly, opening the driver’s door and picking you up carefully. You weighed no more than a feather in his arms, your head lolling to lean against his shoulder. He opened the door and entered the house with you quickly. This time of day, none of the neighbors should have been home, but he couldn’t be too careful.

He wanted to spend time with you, to be there when you woke up in your new bedroom, but he had to get rid of the vehicle. He laid you down gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Bits of glass were strewn over your clothes, but he’d take care of that later. He slipped off your shoes and took them with him.

You wouldn’t be needing them anymore.

#dark marvel #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader

[literary-shitstorm]

//: An AU in which Kevin is a football player and Aaron is a dancer and they meet under mildly questionable circumstances, cross-posted on AO3

Kevin had run past the dingy studio on his biweekly route for the past year and a half, yet for the first time, he noticed a warm light creeping under the cracks in the crooked door. The place had obviously gone bankrupt years prior, left to rot through the vicious winters and even more dangerous summers- the years hadn’t been kind to those four walls. It was in one of the older parts of town and the history major within him couldn’t help but wonder if the building had once served a much higher purpose than the one it had sadly been reduced to.

The faint light wasn’t the only puzzling addition to the scenario, the slightest hum of music cut through the nighttime air. Not the sound of rebellious teenage rock or the top charts like he would’ve expected, instead it was a delicate melody. A string of graceful notes with the ever so slight snap of a beat in there, a deep thrumming that kept the song alive. Kevin had never claimed to be any kind of music connoisseur but it was beautiful. It was drawing him in like he didn’t think possible, all thoughts of his jog almost void from his mind. Almost. He quickly pulled himself back, the bite of the evening reawakening his senses- if he stayed out too long his step-mother would be worried sick, no doubt eager to bring out Carolina’s entire police force to gather his whereabouts.

He picked up his feet and carried on his way without a second thought.

_____________

Two weeks later and Kevin was back on the same route past the studio and it was becoming increasingly harder to resist the temptation to look inside. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and now Thursday; each day he had felt the stuttering in his stride as he heard the familiar tune, the draw to an inevitable stop and the way his torso would always twist to face the entrance. He tried to tell himself that he just enjoyed the music and that it wasn’t the underlying curiosity screaming that somebody was in there begging him to peek inside and see just what kind of creature chose to inhabit a place like that. But every time he would get too close all those school assemblies about ‘stranger danger’ would flood to the forefront of his mind, the anxiety would begin to kick in and he would be on his way before you could say run.

Friday came around he knew that things would be different.

He had set out earlier than normal, the sun hadn’t even begun to set and there was only the slightest sliver of grey licking the skyline, the streets were still buzzing with activity; if he wanted to safely get a glimpse of his mysterious visitor there was no better time to try. So he waited with his phone in his palms and a foot placed neatly against the wall behind him, a desperate attempt to avoid drawing attention to his meandering.

Half an hour passed and nothing changed other than the blooming of colors beginning to ripple across the sky and the disappearance of the sun behind a thick layer of clouds. It was when a weak chill started to settle in that Kevin considered calling it a night, heading home and preoccupying his mind with plays and strategies for that weekend’s game. That all changed when he pocketed his phone and drew his foot from the wall; he looked up at the boy walking past him and he knew.

He was short, that was the first thing Kevin noticed, impossibly so. There was an air of grace and nonchalance to the way his feet curled into the floor as he worked and the way his body combined sharp features with even sharper movement. It was cat-like and bordering on plain sinister. Whoever this guy was, he seemed just as on edge as Kevin. A golden mop of curls sat atop his head, ever so slightly beginning to brush into his eyes, or perhaps it was being pushed down by the almost comically large headphones that covered his ears. As expected, when the figure deemed that there was nobody around to witness, he slipped into the studio and slammed the door behind him.

He wished that he could go back and pretend that it had never happened because Kevin’s mystery had a face and oh god it was beautiful.

_____________

“It’s kind of weird, isn’t it?” “Shut up Neil.” “I’m just saying, Kevin, you’ve been listening to this guy for weeks-” “Neil.” “And now you’ve seen him-” “Shut the fuck up, Josten.” “And you can’t go a second without thinking about him.”

It wasn’t true, Kevin was perfectly capable of going without thinking about his mysterious stranger, wasn’t he?

_____________

Kevin didn’t dare believe that things could get any worse from there. He’d always had a problem with fixation: football, friends, family- but now it was him and every single time he saw the slightest flash of blond he felt anxiety beginning to knaw at his chest. He didn’t dare admit that whatever this was could be a crush, because this was a stranger that he’d never even spoken to. He didn’t even know his name. He wasn’t gay. He’d dated the star of the Girls Football Team, Thea Muldani, back in high school for over two years and prior to that, he’d had a few silly adolescent romances. He wasn’t gay but he felt as though the picture of this boy was burned into the back of his eyelids. It failed to ease any of the anxiety that he was feeling.

It was on his Wednesday evening jog, two weeks after first laying eyes on his puzzle, that Kevin encountered an unavoidable trap that begged for his attention. The door was open. Well, it wasn’t intentionally open, but for the first time the light that usually managed to just creep under the doorframe was bleeding out full force onto the concrete, casting the shadows of the room within. Before any rational thought could even begin to process the situation, Kevin found his feet moving towards the entrance and his eyes drawn to the opening, however, he squeezed them shut before he got to close in a feeble attempt to avoid the heartache he was so obviously determined to bring upon himself. He braced himself with fingers latched on the frame and made sure that he was positioned so that he would be forced to take in the whole room; it was like the boys from his team always said: Go big or go home. 

It took him a few seconds to readjust to the light flooding back into his vision, especially with the rapidly moving figure shifting in front of him.

He was dancing.

Kevin had never found himself being the type of person that argued his opinions; friends and family were a maybe but strangers were a clear cut no. He’d always found himself nodding and smiling along with whichever clique he’d had to cater to during that conversation and allowed things to flow without his input. During football training growing up, he’d often heard the boys surrounding him make jokes at the expense of dancers, especially after their Coach had suggested that perhaps they should incorporate some ballet into their fitness regimes. They had gone on for hours about pretentious dancers and their prissy songs and uptight attitudes towards others. Kevin would be a liar to say that after years of hearing the same judgment he hadn’t somewhat bought into the idea, but watching his enigma move fiercely in front of him- he was inclined to rethink his opinion.

He had never seen anything like it; every movement set off hundreds of muscles flexing underneath taut skin. Every flick of a foot or hand was perfectly precisioned, strong yet delicate at the same time. Every spin was perfectly catered to the music, he seemed to be almost floating as he spun on the tips of his toes- how was he doing that- it was entirely beautiful in a way that Kevin had never experienced. In spite of all the grace, however, there was a look of rage plastered on the face of the boy; his brows were furrowed into a deep v and there was a fury flickering in his eyes whenever he caught a glimpse of them in the dusted mirror on the wall.

Beautiful wasn’t the word. Dangerous was.

Danger was definitely the emotion that Kevin felt when the music came to a slow stop and the boy landed facing directly towards the entrance and, in turn, directly towards him. It was only at that moment that he realized in his stupor he had stepped out to the point of almost being in the room. For a horrendous moment, their eyes met and there was nothing but fire between them, a blazing connection of blown-out pupils that seemed much too intimate for their first-ever acknowledgment of each other. He imagined that the same concoction of fear and shock on his opposers face also matched his own, and before any words could pass between the two of them, he was on the balls of his feet and sprinting faster than he could ever remember being.

It took an extra four blocks for his heart to ease some of the thrumming, still, he knew that he wasn’t struggling to get breath into his lungs due to the exercise.

_____________

It was hard, but he tried his best to remove any recollection of the dancing boy from his mind. He finally persuaded Neil to stop talking about it, no longer offering him the satisfaction of a reaction at the mention of blond hair and pointe shoes. He changed his running routes and made sure that he steered clear of the old abandoned building at all times. 

Allison always talks about self-care. That was what he tried to tell himself- that by completely avoiding the anxiety-inducing experience that was anything to do with him was his way of looking out for himself. Of course, he knew that it was a complete lie. 

After getting fed up with his ‘constant moping’, Neil, Allison and a few of the other reprobates his father had taken under his wing that he had somehow found himself associated with had organized a night out at a club a few towns over. Associates or not, they seemed to know that Kevin would be anywhere at the promise of alcohol on somebody else's tab. He never understood why everybody made it into such an ordeal; he was waiting in the front room of the apartment he (half-)stayed at with Neil, tapping his foot on the carpet whilst the others were still emerging from their various different ‘get ready’ points.

Neil had told him that the club they were going to was called Eden’s Twilight and that Allison and Renee knew three of the people who worked there and could probably hook them up with a few free drinks. The drive crammed into Matt’s pick up was agonizingly slow and the engine never seemed to sound any less like it could die at any second; he’d be a liar to say he didn’t enjoy the blurring of the highway as they sped past trees, cars, and buildings. The way they all seemed to morph into one gave him an oddly serene feeling, it was peaceful.

Of course, that peace could never last. The moment that they entered the bar Kevin was struck with a feeling of abject terror because the dancing boy was behind the bar and Renee was talking to him like all of this meant nothing. The words slipped out before he could stop them, “It’s you.” The eyes that passed over him as a result were nothing like the ones he had witnessed weeks prior, those had been angry and driven, these were the eyes of a dead man, completely cold and void of anything that could be considered feelings. In spite of that, there was a cruel smile twisted on his face as he said, “Righty ‘o,” and more sinister, “What have I done this time?” “You’re the dancer in the abandoned room.” He wasn’t justified with an answer that time, only the slightest giggle from Renee, “Andrew’s certainly not a dancer, Kevin.” “But how-” “You must be thinking of Aaron,” a louder voice rang out from behind the bar, followed by a much taller, tanned man with dozens of glasses stacked in his hands, “You a friend? Don’t sweat it, I still get them confused sometimes. He’s round the back on his break if you want him.”

In an all too familiar turn of events, Kevin was out the door and making his way around the back before his mind could make sense of the information that it had received. 

And there he was.

He spotted the golden hair under a streetlight before anything else, the rest of him was clad in black from head to toe, barely visible in the darkness. There was an open bottle hanging loosely been his fingertips and Kevin watched as he pulled it to his lips and took a deep swig.

Kevin tried to swallow any anxiety he felt (it didn’t work) and set forward into the light himself, “It really is you.” The figure jumped slightly at the comment, fear passing over his face before it curled with recognition, “You’re my stalker.” “No,” Kevin’s response was frantic, “....yes. But it wasn’t like that I swear-” “Relax, I’m much too buzzed to care about you right now,” he paused before offering the bottle which Kevin too almost too enthusiastically.

They stood in a kind of awkward silence for what felt like an eternity, moving the bottle between them until there were only droplets left in the bottom. “Are you a professional?” “What?” He could feel the red hot blush grow to his cheeks, “Uh...athlete...dancer....” Even in the darkness, Kevin could make out the way Aaron’s eyes were smoldering like coals,  “Used to be.” “What happened?” “What’s it to you,” Aaron’s voice came out like knives on a grater before gaining a darkness akin to his twin, “Drug testing.” 

The silence returned for a few moments, but Kevin quickly decided what he needed to do. “My dad sponsors and manages athletes from...disadvantaged backgrounds. He’d definitely help you out if that was what you wanted.” “You think I’m some fucking charity case, huh? You don’t know shit!” Kevin couldn’t help but flinch at the angry words flying in his direction, “I don’t want your stupid fucking pity offer.” Kevin took a shaky inhale before slipping one of the cards he always carried with him out of his pocket and dropping it on the floor, “The offer is there if you want it.”

With that, he turned on his heel and practically ran back into the club with only one plan of getting completely shitfaced.

_____________

Life carried on. At the time the upset that Kevin had felt churning in his stomach was mountainous; he wasn’t sure how he’d ever overcome the unbearable memory of the experience that followed him wherever he went. Alas, it took some time, but he moved on from the disappointment of his meeting with Aaron Minyard. 

As if the world was taunting him over and over, it obviously couldn’t stay that way.

It was on a Saturday morning that his dad rang him to warn him of a client coming over for their first meeting and that he and Abby wouldn’t be able to make it back in time, asking if Kevin would be okay with making a few introductions. He’s your age, he’d assured. 

Nothing could have prepared him for answering the door to Aaron Minyard on that Saturday morning. “Fuck, I thought it’d have to deal with this at some point but not as soon as I got to the damn door.” “Come in,” was the only monotonous response Kevin could muster amidst the nerves, “Would you like a drink?” Aaron held up a coffee cup in his hand in response, “I’m okay.”

If Kevin had though the silence that night had been unbearable, that didn’t come close to the awkwardness of the two of them sitting in his dad’s office. All that he could think to do is run through the little booklet that sat on the desk, explaining the types of things that they would offer support for until Aaron’s tense voice cut him off, “Listen, I can’t put up with this awkward shit...” he paused and Kevin could practically hear his teeth grating, “So I’m sorry.” “Not used to apologizing?” “No, I suppose I’m not. I was a dick that night- I was drunk and high and I’d had a shitty day,” he inhaled through his nose, “But I wouldn’t fucking be here if I didn’t want that to change, would I?” “No, I suppose not.” “We even?” “I guess so.”

Things were somewhat less painful after they’d gotten that out of the way and Kevin even found himself slipping into a conversation with the blond when they ran out of business to discuss, “What do you do?” “Huh?” “This all seems pretty athletic,” Aaron motioned to, well, the whole of him, “What sport do you play?” “Football.” Aaron allowed the smallest of bemused smiles to slip onto his face, “All football players are Neanderthals.” “I can agree with that.”

It took a while for the conversation to slip to the inevitable, but the blow came as expected, “Why were you watching me that day?” Kevin couldn’t lie, not now, after all this turmoil and anxiety and disappointment. “It was beautiful.” Aaron’s gaze quickly dropped to his lap, obviously uncomfortable with being complimented in such a way, “...You really think so?” “I do.” And at that moment Kevin had always been sure that he wasn’t gay, but he felt something different when Aaron’s chocolate eyes (a gorgeous color, so dark that they almost blended with his pupils, Kevin noted) forged their way into his own. It was only when he felt his center of gravity lean minutely forward and he could see his opposition doing the same that the bang of the front door broke them from their trance and sent them flying apart. His father barged in with his usual rough exterior.

“So Aaron Minyard, right?”

_____________

Two weeks after that, Aaron let Kevin watch him practice for the first time.

_____________

And two months after that they kissed for the first time and Aaron became Kevin’s dancing boy.

//I hate this with a passion and I feel like the only way it should truly be read is within hellfire, but I really wanted to post something and this was about all my motivation could stir up. Kevaaron own my dead heart and that's my only justification for this

Fun Fact: I wrote this with a maybe broken finger

This is my first contribution to this fandom on tumblr- ew.

#all for the game #all for the gay #aftg #aaron minyard #kevin day #kevaaron #neil josten #andrew minyard #nicky hemmick #renee walker #all for the game au

[saferincages]

Because of the dog’s joyfulness, our own is increased. It is no small gift. It is not the least reason why we should honor as well as love the dog of our own life, and the dog down the street, and all the dogs not yet born. What would the world be like without music or rivers or the green and tender grass? What would this world be like without dogs? - Mary Oliver, Dog Songs

Today, April 18th, would have been our beloved Angel’s 13th birthday. We were so hoping she would be here to celebrate it, but unfortunately her illness took her far more quickly than we were anticipating, which has us commemorating it without her, and still grieving her terribly.

I’ve talked about her so often that I now struggle to find the proper words to pay tribute to what a miracle she was for me, and what a truly special girl and precious little soul she was. I related some of the story of us getting her here, but wanted to take this last chance to remember. Saying I dreamed of or wanted a dog my entire life doesn’t even fairly capture it - I yearned for a dog, more than anything else that could ever be offered to me. There were multiple obstacles that made this impossible growing up - my mom and I being too busy with work/school to properly care for one, the fact that we were too burdened financially, the limitations on the kind of dog we could bring home given both of our allergies. Thus it remained my fondest continual wish. By 2006, my illness had been breaking me down for over a year. I had no choice but to drop out of school when I could barely function; I had reached what they called a “plateau” in physical therapy, a point where they couldn’t help me or rehabilitate me further from my lingering car accident injuries, and my immune system kept getting worse, my body increasingly frail. I was spending most days entirely alone while my mom worked full-time. It got to the point of quiet desperation, my depression was becoming more serious and we didn’t know what to do.

An e-mail went out in my mom’s office from a family who wanted to rehome their young standard poodle. We decided to go and meet her, and she was lovely, but she was 60 pounds and definitely too rambunctious for us to enclose in our very small living situation. (There’s a happy ending to that story, as her family decided to keep her.) The thought was irrevocably planted in my brain, though, and I fixated on the idea of finally finding a dog. We tried several other times - like a 3 year old Bichon who ended up at our Humane Society (they’re so rarely found at shelters that they did a lottery for people to be able to adopt him; our number did not come up), then a miniature poodle puppy at the shelter in Denver (same story with the lottery). I started scouring the paper, and one night in late July, in the online classifieds, I found a listing for six Bichon puppies. The timing was unbelievably perfect. I excitedly called the number, and the lady told me they had two left, a boy and a girl, and if we would like to see them, could we please come right away, because she and her husband were going out of town for the weekend and someone else was going to come watch the dogs. My mom and I got into the car in the dark of night and drove to the other side of the city. When we got there, we saw four little white fluffy faces in the door - the couple’s two adult Bichons and two babies.

We went inside, and the lady who had them started telling us about them. The little boy was docile and laid-back, the little girl was sweet yet very feisty and stubborn. She had been the smallest in her litter, and her five brothers and sisters pushed her around and never let her eat enough, and so she had to learn to stand up for herself. They were both darling. He laid quietly on the floor waiting for attention. She perseveringly climbed up onto the back of the sofa to be as close to us as possible, to sniff us and kiss our faces. She was silly and affectionate, and of course I instantly fell in love with her. She was meant to be ours. They gave us her papers, and her blanket, I scooped her up in my arms, and she was mine. On the drive home, our normal route ended up being blocked off because of a chemical spill, and the police officer who stopped us glanced into the car and smiled at the sleepy little puppy (”look!,” he said, “a carpet with eyes!” because she was quite fuzzy).

The gate to temporarily keep her in the kitchen overnight didn’t work at all, she was too smart for that. She squeezed out and promptly came into my room, whimpered on my floor until I turned to look at her, and waited for me to pick her up. I put her on the bed, she stole a pillow, and that was our story almost every night for the rest of her life. She was the best puppy, a model puppy, she never made a mess or chewed up anything she wasn’t supposed to (except for a roll of toilet paper, which only made us laugh), and she took to training quickly.

She was the most incredible blessing, and every day, no matter how sick I was, no matter how devastated I felt by anything else happening in my existence or the world, she gave me a reason to get up, to carry on. Not only because she depended on me - and that’s no small thing, having a dear, bright life that needs you to look after her - but because she was so boundless in her exuberance, her light, her love for everything and everyone. She believed all people and animals (I would say obviously other dogs, but honestly she seemed to like kitties most of all) should be her friends, and did her very best to charm them. She was excited to wake up in the morning, and she would bounce on me with her tail wagging in circles. She loved cozy things, pillows and stuffed animals and blankets and warm laundry; she loved soothing instrumental music and would settle right down to sleep when I put her favorites on (near the end of her life, we played a lot from Soothing Relaxation, and we put this one on for her before she died. She enjoyed certain piano pieces on the Soundscapes channel, especially this and this, she’d snuggle up and close her deep brown eyes whenever they played). She loved to play and growl and zoom around from room to room at top speed, she loved to lay in the sun and look out the window, she loved baby carrots and apple slices and was the cutest when she crunched them. She listened to me sing to her with rapt attention, and when we talked to her, she liked to talk back with various small barks and grumbles while inquisitively tilting her head. She had a mind of her own and liked to arrange things however she wanted them; she waved her paws constantly, and it meant different things depending on what she was asking us. She never stopped giving kisses, and this went double whenever one of us was crying, as she saw it as her comforting duty to lick away our tears. In her very last hour, when she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink for almost two days, when I was suddenly forced into making a decision I wasn’t ready to make, when all I wanted was to bring her home and tears were streaming down my face, she still sat up to kiss them away. It’s been hard having so many endless tears to shed since we lost her, and not having her in my lap to take care of me.

I’m convinced she did take care of me, more than I did for her. I called her my little nurse a lot, because she always knew when I was more sick than usual, and she worried and fussed around me, and tucked herself in by my side, and wouldn’t leave me. Even as isolated as I am due to being homebound, I was never lonely while she was in my life, she was always there to reassure me. She sensed so many of our moods, and she was so empathetic that we’d try not to get too upset around her because she would react with concern. When my anxiety and panic attacks began getting worse, and when my POTS became more severe, I truly began to realize how much she helped me, how her being near me calmed my tension, eased my physical pain, how running my fingers through her incredibly soft curls immediately lowered my heart rate, and that’s when I had her certified as my emotional support animal. She’d been doing that job from the start, so she deserved the title officially.

I mentioned here why I named her Angel: I wanted to use the name Angel because I love angels, because it made me think of sweetness and light, and of course she has been my guardian and my salvation and truly my Angel all these years, but she’s something else that word connotes too. She’s a warrior Angel. She was unbelievably strong and courageous, she fought so hard to live, and all she wanted was to stay with us. She was made of that pure goodness, and she was also brave and resilient. We called her bunches of nicknames - our diamond, our flower, our princess, our sugar, our baby, but she was profoundly an Angel most of all.

We had a unique relationship because we were almost always together, every minute, every day, every year. Not everyone understands the depth of connection knitted deep into our spirits that one can have with a beautiful living being, but experiencing it was a gift beyond any measurement words can give. I never left her for more than a few hours at the time. I never spent a night without her, except when she was in the hospital. She was my constant; my warm, fluffy baby, my treasure, and that life and happiness was everything. My dad acknowledged that, for me, losing her was much more like losing a child, because we were so bonded, so unbreakably close, and that is irreplaceable. I’ve mentioned before that I won’t ever be able to have that connection in human form, and getting another dog is once again an impossibility for us due to our current predicament (not that Angel could ever be replaced, but we would open our home and hearts to new love if we could), so she was it for me, the one dream come true, all I had.

I read Dog Songs as we were losing her, and Mary Oliver captured the adoration and the acute sadness exquisitely. So, that deepest sting: sorrow. Still, is she gone from us entirely, or is she part of that other world, everywhere? One of her poems was for her own Bichon, Percy, and these lines conjured Angel: For she was made small but brave of heart. For she could be silly and noble in the same moment. For she listened to poems as well as love-talk. For when she sniffed it was as if she were being pleased by every part of the world. For when she sickened she rallied as many times as she could. For she was a mixture of gravity and waggery. For there was nothing sweeter than her peace when at rest. For there was nothing brisker than her life when in motion. For when I went away she would watch for me at the window. For she loved me. For when she lay down to enter sleep she did not argue about whether or not God made her. For she could fling herself upside down and laugh a true laugh. For I often see her shape in the clouds and this is a continual blessing. She also wrote: It is almost a failure of will, a failure of love, to let them grow old - or so it feels. We would do anything to keep them with us, and to keep them young. The one gift we cannot give.

Despite losing the entire semblance of and hopes for my "normal" life when I became chronically ill, despite mourning people (whether they passed out of my life literally or figuratively), even still I have never undergone this level of grief and heartache. I long to hold her in my arms, to hear the padding of her adorable popcorn paws and the jingling of her tags, to kiss her irresistibly soft head (which smelled like her sugar cookie conditioner). She always had such an exceptionally strong heartbeat - the little heartbeat at my feet - and when it stopped, while I embraced her with my hand against her chest, a huge part of me went with her. She gave me so much purpose and grace and helped me survive. She lit up every day with joy, and we will never stop missing her.

Angel was the truest, most precious love I've ever known, and how lucky I am to have been blessed by such a wondrous girl.

#wishing queue were somehow near #love of my life #my baby #angel #sugar cookie #i miss you my sweetheart #i know i've probably posted all of these photos at some point before #because they're some of my favorites #but i thought it would be nice to compile them all together #♥ #this is also my last post so it's even more dear #i love you all thank you for being my friends and being here for us and showing us such kindness #i just came to say goodbye love #grief does not expire like a candle or the beacon on a lighthouse; it simply changes temperature #look at your face in the mirror #bubble wrap around my heart #long post for ts #i love her with every fiber of my being and i miss her and ache for her every day #but i don't like the constant nagging memory of the fact that my face was the top of this page and that is why my other love replaced us #I have my stories of that grief no doubt many of you do also #It is almost a failure of will a failure of love to let them grow old—or so it feels #We would do anything to keep them with us #so goodbye goodbye ♥

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Twenty-Three: Policeman ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Haruno Sakura ] [ SasuHina, gun, assault ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

“Ah -!”

With a crash, a small stack of dishes slips from her hand, shattering and sending her skittering backwards. Eyes widening despite the shadows beneath them, Hinata struggles to ease the jumping in her heart at the sound. Oh...oh no…

“Hinata?!”

Flinching, she turns to see her coworker fly back into the kitchen. “S...Sakura, I -”

“Whoa...are you okay?”

“...I…” Her shoulders wilt. “...y-yeah. I’m...I’m all right.”

Brows furrowing and looking unconvinced, Sakura carefully makes her way through the carnage to her friend. “...you didn’t get cut or anything, did you”

“No…”

“...Hinata, you look exhausted. You should go home.”

“But -?”

“It’s quiet. I can handle things for the last hour.” Expression set in determination, she takes Hinata’s shoulders. “You clearly need some rest. If you want, you can wait here until I finish my shift, and we’ll walk back together. But either way, you’re not working another minute tonight. Got it?”

Guilt weighs heavy. True, she’s exceedingly tired...but she needs to do her job. Sakura pulled several strings to get her this position at the diner in addition to the retail she does during the day. While the nurse-in-training has school in the daylight hours, Hinata works and tries to save up for when her friend graduates, and she’ll have to find a new place to stay without her current roommate.

Given that school didn’t exactly...work out, she has to make due with what she’s got.

“I’ll...I’ll go home.”

“You sure? It’s a bit late to be walking home alone…”

“It’s n-not too far. I’ll be all right. Just...let me clean this up, and -”

“Nuh-uh. I can handle this. It’s just some sweeping.”

“But Sakura, it was my -!”

“Go!” the rosette insists, shooing her out of the kitchen. “You better be in bed and fast asleep when I get home, got it?”

“Y...yeah.” Sheepishly grabbing her things and clocking out, Hinata leaves the diner behind, shouldering her bag and making the several block trek back on foot. Neither of them have a car at the moment, and there’s no buses that make any sensical route for them to take to and from the corner restaurant.

Despite her exhaustion, Hinata tries to keep her wits about her. It’s dark in this part of town for the most part, and she doesn’t want to run into any trouble if she can -

“Well well...hey there little lady.”

...help it.

Stiffening, she thinks to the can of pepper spray she keeps meaning to buy, now painfully absent from her purse. Glancing over, she can barely make out a face, lit only by the smouldering end of a cigarette. It flares as the man draws a breath, removing the stick to exhale a cloud that makes her nose wrinkle.

“Bit late to be walkin’ around alone, ain’t it…? Not very safe...you might end up runnin’ into the wrong crowd, little lady.”

“I’m just o-on my way home,” she tries to assert steadily, unable to help the nervous jump to her tone. “If you’ll excuse m-”

In a flash, he reaches out from the alley mouth, hand finding her wrist and yanking her off-kilter toward him. Tossing her until she’s backed against the building wall, he leans over her, an arm barring her escape. “Hey, now...we only just met. Don’t wanna be rude, do ya…? Can’t leave without at least sayin’ goodbye first…” His spare hand finds a grip at the dip of her waist, grin making her nauseous.

“P-please...I don’t -”

“Hey.”

Both pairs of eyes look to the street beyond. A bit silhouetted by the nearest streetlamp, another man stands haughtily just beyond the alleyway.

“...t’hell do you want, man?” the creeper asks, expression losing its greasy attempt at charm.

“I’m gonna need you to step back from the lady. Nice and slow.”

“Yeah? Says who?”

Moving aside his jacket, the stranger reveals a glinting badge, the other hand at his hip revealing a holstered pistol behind the hem. “...police. Now, for the last time...back up.”

Jerking in surprise and scowling, he considers the officer before moving, throwing Hinata at him and making a break for it down the gap between the buildings.

Stumbling, Hinata quickly finds herself in the policeman’s arms, his grip steadying but careful.

“...you all right?”

“...I-I…!”

“Here, c’mon over here where it’s a bit brighter. Hanging out in the shadows won’t make you feel any safer.” Cautiously, he guides her out into the open, a hand at the small of her back. “Are you hurt?”

“N...no. He...h-he didn’t…” Taking a shaking breath, Hinata lifts arms to loosely hold herself. “...he just...scared me.”

“Where you were headed, miss?”

“I was just w-walking home from work.”

“It’s not really a good idea to wander around alone this time of night…”

“I...u-usually my roommate comes with me, but...I had to leave early. I didn’t want to...d-didn’t want to be in the way.”

Dark brows furrow. “...I’ll take you home. What’s your name?”

“Hinata. Hinata Hyūga.”

“I’m Sasuke Uchiha, KPD. I’m glad you’re okay. Is it very far?”

“No, just two more blocks.”

“All right...we’ll keep walking.” Probably not a good idea to try to get her in a car with a stranger, cop or not. Keeping a respectable distance, Sasuke gives her an occasional glance. Clearly she’s still shaken, arms around her middle and posture hunched, expression unreadable.

Thankfully it takes little time to get back. The little duplex is dark, the other half unrented across from the girls. Noting as much, Sasuke asks, “Do you have someone you can call to come stay with you?”

“Um...n-no. But...my roommate won’t be too much longer. I’ll...I’ll be all right.”

“Are you sure?” Sasuke frowns. “...I can stay and keep an eye on things, if it would make you feel better, miss.”

“Oh, n-no - you’ve already done enough. I don’t want to -?”

“It’s no trouble.” Surely the last thing she wants to be right now is alone. At the very least...he’s some firepower and muscle to keep between herself and the street until someone else can be here with her. “Keeping people safe is my job. Even if I’m not on the clock, I still take it seriously.”

Hinata hesitates. In truth...she’d feel a lot better. But she doesn’t want to be any extra trouble. “...do you -? Can I make you some coffee…?”

“...if you’d like.”

“Would you like to come in…?”

Sasuke holds up a hand. “I don’t want to intrude. I’ll just stay here and keep an eye on things for a bit. Make sure it’s clear out here.” Like the car, he doesn’t want to make her uneasy being alone with a stranger in so confined a space.

“...o-okay.” Nibbling her lip, Hinata unlocks the door. First, she changes into a pair of baggy sweatpants and a hoodie, feeling less...exposed with something so loose on. Then she bustles about making two cups of coffee, returning with one for Sasuke as she sits on the step with her own.

She might as well keep him company.

When she returns, he’s still standing, accepting the mug with a grateful nod. “...feeling any better?”

“Maybe a little bit…” Curling up a bit, she slowly sips her coffee. Maybe not the best thing to have before bed, but she’s likely not going to sleep for a while either way. “...thanks for staying. You didn’t have to.”

“I want to,” he replies a bit bluntly, taking a swig. “I can hang around until your roommate gets back.”

...it’s then Hinata has a thought. “...um…”

“Hm?”

“Well, it’s just...we usually walk home together, so...without me there, she’ll be alone, too.”

That earns a pause. “...can you text her?”

“Mhm.”

“Tell her I’ll go pick her up when she’s done. I want both of you home safe with that asshole running around.”

A bit taken aback at his language, Hinata nevertheless does as asked. “She gets off in like twenty minutes. She works at Jerry’s, on the corner of fourteenth…?”

“I know it. You all right here for a bit?”

She nods.

“All right. I’ll go get her. You stay here...keep your door locked, huh?”

“O-okay.” Watching him go, Hinata heads back in, doing as suggested and anxiously watching out the window. It’s not until they both return she dares to go back out. “Sakura!”

“Hinata, what the hell’s going on?”

“Hinata ran into a little trouble on her way home. I walked her back, and went to make sure you’d make it too.”

The other woman blinks. “Oh gosh...you okay, ‘nata?”

“Yeah...just a little s-spooked.”

“You two head in so I know you’re all settled for the night,” Sasuke offers. “I’ll let someone on patrol know this guy’s stalking around. Make sure no one else gets harassed.”

“...thank you,” Hinata offers softly, Sakura heading in and muttering about keeping her bat by her bed tonight. “Really, I...I appreciate it. All you did.”

“I was happy to. Just...try not to head out alone after dark again, all right?”

“I-I won’t.” In spite of herself, she gives him a brief smile, waving before heading back in.

Watching the place for a moment, Sasuke then turns to face the street, expression hardening. He was just going for an evening stroll to clear his mind...but maybe he’ll just take another turn around the block. If trouble’s going to be lurking...well, he might as well take care of it.

                                                          .oOo.

     Aaand another late night, lol      So this is actually a BIT of a rewrite of the first time I did this challenge, though before it happened to be ItaHina. This time, however, it's of course Sasuke and Hinata. A bit neat to revisit it and see what I can improve! It's shorter due to my usual time constraints, but hopefully I've improved since then lol      Buuut yeah, I better call it a night - thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #haruno sakura #gun // #assault // #best years of your life [ au ] #365daysofsasuhina

[junkercrush]

“Your Special Guest”

*~A Junkercrush Original~*

SFW

Pairing: Mafia!Roadhog x Gender-Neutral Reader

Words: 1,042

(Special thanks to @alicekaninchenbau for the Mafia inspiration <3)

You didn’t live in the worst neighborhood, but it certainly wasn’t the best. There wasn’t a day you heard police sirens and see people gathered around a bloodied corpse. Crimes were plenty. You’ve always heard news of theft, gunfights, occasional flashers, and arsons (coincidentally killing notable criminals).

Your parents, despite your age, gave you money to live in the “good part” of town which others blamed for rising gentrification. Fancy breweries, yoga studios, and vegan cafes popped up all over the area.

You lived in a gated townhouse complex walking distances from a park, the police station, and a top-notch gym. Problem: you were behind on rent.

Adulting wasn’t on your side ever since you stopped your parents from sending you money. You wanted to do better. You could move out into a cheaper place, but they were in the seedier parts of town.

Move back to your parents’ place? Ain’t no way! Friends? They all either moved out-of-state or married with children. The last thing you wanted was being someone’s burden.

Desperately, you found a job serving tables at an upscale Italian restaurant named Gabriella’s Vine.

Your landlord scoffed at your plan. She jokingly mentioned you should sell your body. “You’re good-looking enough.” She said. No way in hell you were going down that route.

However, the landlord was curious about you.  How could a server afford rent in an upper-class neighborhood?

Once and a while, a customer would come by your restaurant and give you (and only you) incredible tips especially during the holiday seasons. He was your special guest.

This guest was a huge man, over seven feet tall. He was always dressed like he stepped out of mobster film except for the ominous gas mask and the cute pig pin on his dress vest. Sometimes, your guest would come in with a blond, lanky character with a peg leg, dressed to the nines as well. You heard about this fella. He was known as “The Rat.”

“You ‘ave permission to call him Papa Hog! He likes that!” He said to you one time. The Rat always spoke for your guest. He was a messy eater and loud but often cracked hilarious jokes. Sometimes, he would hit on Ralph, the restaurant’s violinist, and Gabriella’s nephew.

Lately, you haven’t seen Papa Hog or the Rat. This was not good, you needed the money.

                                                  *~*~*~*~*~*

One late evening returning from work, you bumped into a man in a black trench coat. He kept blocking your way every time you attempted to pass him. He reeked of sour milk and old gym shoes.

“Wanna have some fun?” The rancid man asked and opened his coat. Damn, a flasher!

He tackled you to the ground before you had a chance to run. You screamed for help, and the angry flasher punched you.

A car horn beeped, and a limo zoomed into your vision. “Shit, Papa Hog!” The flasher groaned. You took this moment to escape and hide.

Shady gangsters came out of the limo. The Rat jumped out of the limo’s sunroof wielding a frag launcher.

 “BRING HIM IN!” A voice boomed from the limo. Did a sliver of excitement past you as you heard that voice?

The gangsters dragged the panicky flasher back into the limo. Inside, you could hear him screaming, a screeching power drill, and the Rat cackling. Yep, this was going to haunt you for weeks. 

                                                *~*~*~*~*~*

During a day off, Gabriella requested you to come for a late-night shift. Hell yeah, late night shifts meant good money (no matter how much sleep you truly needed). You were almost due for your late payments. 

Gabriella had specific requirements for you to dress extra nice, not in your usual server’s uniform. 

You were never a high maintenance person. You dressed business casual with a hint of fragrance dapped on your wrists and neck. 

You arrived at the restaurant through the back. Tiny Gabriella was already waiting for you in the kitchen. She looked nervous. “Thank God, I was afraid you were going to be late.” She said.

Gabriella guided you to the dining area where Papa Hog waited for you with the rest of his gang. Ralph was playing in a corner, the Rat standing by repeatedly stuffing dollar bills into his shirt and pants to keep him playing.

Oh God, Papa Hog was going to you kill you. The flasher’s screams and the power drill echoed in your mind. 

“We meet again.” Papa Hog said. There was that voice again. Heat rushed to your cheeks. Fearfully, you took your seat and stared down at the lasagna in front of you. Oh look, your last meal.

You studied the dining area. Every table was decorated with red tea candles and rose petals. Romantic classical paintings adorned the walls. The air smelled of roses, sandalwood, and ylang-ylang. 

Wait, were you going to die or get laid?

Papa Hog snapped his fingers, and everybody left the room. “You lock the back while I’ll get the front.” You heard Gabriella whisper to Ralph. She nodded at you and exited through the front door. 

“I’m sorry.” Ralph mouthed at you as the Rat followed him through the kitchen. Now, you were scared. 

All was silent except for Papa Hog’s heavy breathing. He stared at you as he slurped an oyster. “Now, we have some real privacy.” He stood up.

No, no, no! 

You fell backward from your chair and crawled away from him. “I didn’t see anything,” You cried. “I won’t say anything. I promise!”

Papa Hog bent to your level and reached out for you. You flinched at his touch. “I don’t hurt people I care about.” He sighed. He removed the pig pin from his dress vest and pinned it on you. 

“You’re mine now,” He said. You stared at him questionably. He cleared his throat and chuckled. “I mean you’re under my protection. Everybody will know.”

He finally revealed his real face. His eyes hypnotized you. A handsome scar slashed across his nice, thick lips. He had a gentle smile that made all warm inside. The fear you had before faded away.

The two of you returned to your table and ate in silence, his massive hand holding yours. You were safe now.

                                                The End

#mafia!mako #roadhog #mako rutledge #roadhog x reader #overwatch #masterlist #stories #overwatch fic

[seventyfiveapples]

In Transit - Chapter 5

Bright fanfiction / Nick Jakoby x OFC

Previous Chapters: ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR

Or: The whole enchilada on AO3

Summary: When Officers Jakoby and Ward are hand-picked by the Magic Task Force to transport a dangerous convicted murderer, they must stay a few steps ahead as various enemies, forces of magic, and mistakes from the past complicate their path.

Nick slowed down and pulled over the car. There were five people waiting at the roadblock: the Sheriff, two police officers, and two of the men who’d recognized Leigh back at the motel. They must have used a shortcut of some kind to pass Nick, Daryl, and Leigh. The men from the motel did not appear to be police officers, but there was no telling what they had already told the sheriff.

In the passenger seat, Ward sighed heavily.

”What’s your plan here, Jakoby?”

”Ward, they’re still police officers. I think we just explain ourselves and continue on our way.”

”Guys-“ Leigh piped up from the back seat.

”Not all of them. You think Mr. Blue Pickup Truck is interested in the law, Nick? He was ready to fire at us back at that motel.”

”Guys-"

“I think the Sheriff would be reasonable,” Nick responded. They didn’t seem to hear Leigh.

“And if he isn’t?” asked Ward.

“If he isn’t, I have an idea.” Nick leaned over to whisper to Ward, out of Leigh’s earshot. She saw him open the glove compartment and hand the MTF cellphone to Daryl.

Leigh gave up on trying to get their attention and started working on her bracelet, working on the crack until she could pry it open and get them all out of this mess.

At that moment the sound of a megaphone rang out.

”This is the Sheriff of Lincoln County. I’m ordering you to exit the vehicle, slowly, drop your weapons and place your hands on your heads.” The two officers looked at each other before opening their doors, Daryl giving Nick a slight nod. Before he left the car, Nick turned around to Leigh.

“We’re going to stall as long as we can. Just stay low, out of sight.”

--

[TWO YEARS EARLIER]

Nick and Leigh exchanged a few sloppy, wine-fueled kisses on his front porch. It was Leigh’s birthday and they’d just enjoyed a leisurely dinner date at their favorite restaurant. She was looking forward to some additional “celebrations” once they were inside. Reluctantly, Nick separated his lips from hers.

“Leigh, sweetheart, let’s wait until we get inside.”

She draped herself on him as he managed to get his keys in the lock. She started nibbling his ear, causing him to drop the keys twice before he was able to successfully open the door.

”Mmm, now you can give me my other present... You know,” She said, talking a little more loudly than usual due to the wine as she stumbled inside. “In the bedroom?”

“Leigh-.”

“I mean you. I mean unwrapping you. And then-”

”Shhh…” he said, stifling some laughter.

”Why shhh? I know you like it when I’m loud.” She pulled up his shirt, running her hands over his skin - she loved the way his muscular chest felt - and started trying to pull his shirt over his head. He giggled and tried to gently hold her hands still.

”Listen, honey,” he whispered, “Trust me- wait a second.”

”What are you-“ Nick cut her off by flipping on the living room light to reveal about fifteen of her friends jumping out from behind furniture.

”SURPRISE!” They all yelled in unison. A few giggled.

Leigh’s eyes went wide and her hands flew back to her own pockets as she tried to remember exactly how much her friends had just heard. Behind her, Nick smiled shyly. Her friend Jeanette crossed the space to hug her first.

“Leigh, happy birthday! I was so afraid you already knew about the party, but I think now we can safely say that was not the case!” The party burst into laughter at that and any awkwardness in the room evaporated. Nick hung back a bit as Leigh greeted her guests one at a time. He said hello to the ones he already knew and was pleasantly surprised, as he always was with Leigh’s classmates, to sense their ease around him.. There were vanishingly few places where an orc and a human could express affection, but a room full of Brights was one of them. Magic users, in Nick’s experience, tended to hold more nuanced views of the different races than most humans - certainly, more than the humans in his Police Academy class. Leigh’s classmates always spoke to him with the same respect they’d give anyone: elf, orc, or human.

A few hours into the party, Nick went out to the backyard to get a little air. In a corner of the yard he saw... Chad. Nick still didn’t trust him, but he thought this might be a good time for a fresh start. He hated fighting with Leigh, and they’d had so many tense conversations about Chad. Maybe Nick could be the bigger person here. If Leigh got along with him, there must be something good about him. Maybe. In any case, Nick was ready to forget the past and start over. He started to walk towards him when he overheard snippets of a phone conversation and froze in place.

“Yeah. They’re still together, for now. It’s been almost three months, but I’m working on it... I’m actually at his house right now if you can believe it…. I don’t know, she doesn’t even notice my flirting, but he sure does… Of course they don’t suspect anything, she’s so naive, and he’s stupid even for an orc… Yes…Maybe… Look, I mean, she might get hurt that way but it could work…. Yes, I know we need her alive but, actually, an injury might actually be helpful.” Nick heard him laugh as he said this. What the fuck was this asshole planning? “I’m working on it, okay? I’m sure. Yes… okay, fine, I’ll see you later, Sarah.”

Well, there went that. Nick considered what he’d heard as he quietly made his way back to the house. Chad wanted Nick and Leigh to break up - no surprise there - but now he was planning something that might injure her? He saw Leigh through the window, laughing, and hung his head. How could he get her away from him when she saw him every day at her school? Would she believe what he’d just heard?

He thought of Chad laughing as he talked about injuring Leigh. Nick had to keep trying. Even if Leigh was angry. Even if she thought he was just jealous. Even if they got in a huge fight over it.

He wouldn’t - he couldn’t - let her be hurt, even if it meant things would be uneasy between the two of them.

----

[PRESENT DAY]

The bracelet that the MTF used to stifle Leigh’s magical powers was actually designed - by a Bright - to make life easier for other Brights. The inventor’s hope was that Brights could use these bracelets to stay safe and undetected while leading lives as normal as possible. She would be horrified to learn that the MTF now used them as a form of prisoner restraint.

The inventor, a mechanical engineer, had built it with two primary functions. First, its exterior projected a field that neutralized the physical and astrophysical traces left behind by magic use. This would block anyone from detecting the wearer’s magical activity. Second, its interior was built to shrink and conceal a wand. The external structure of the device was a sturdy military-grade polymer, reinforced by magic. The interior had a hollow cavity that used a permanent spell to reduce a wand to one eighth of its usual size. A single button popped the clasp, allowing the bracelet to open and the wand inside to emerge at its full size.

The design and magical elements were so intertwined that the device could not be replicated by anyone but the inventor. Because the MTF kept tabs on all known Brights in the country, they had become aware of this device from its development and they hired her to create a dozen of these for the agency’s official use… with some slight modifications. She wondered why they’d created them without the button that allowed a Bright wearer to remove and replace the wand at will, but she was paid well enough that this didn’t bother her for long. However, the addition of a tracking device was not part of her original schematics and went against every reason she’d created it.

She flatly refused to add one.

The MTF added them anyway, tacking them onto each completed bracelet with tiny screws that were able to puncture magical fields. The holes drilled for the screws had weakened the device enough that when Leigh fell, the tiniest crack had started to form. It was this crack that had rendered the concealment function unstable. It was periodically shooting out surges of energy and beams of blue light. These traces of magic had left a trail that both Agent Kandomere and Chad had now picked up.

To the agent, these surges were worrying. Although the tracking device had begun to malfunction, the spikes in magical energy could be picked up by anyone who was looking. There must have been damage of some kind to the bracelet. Hopefully she hadn’t been injured, but he knew something had happened. He frowned at the irregular beeping on his MTF map software. The transport SUV wasn’t far off and they seemed to be stopped in the middle of nowhere. More confusing. He heard a ringtone and looked down to see an incoming call from the phone in the transport vehicle. He answered it and heard voices: people shouting. The officers had placed the phone on speaker and appeared to be in the middle of a confrontation. He asked his driver Argyle to pick up the pace.

To Chad on the other hand, this was the first useful information he’d received in two days. He could identify the signature traces of Leigh’s magic anywhere. He tried to act calm as he saw a spark light up his paper map, and turned the car around slowly so that Sarah wouldn’t ask too many questions about the abrupt turn. He hadn’t been as fortunate in tracking her and was still more than 100 miles away. Sarah gave him a sidelong glance and only snickered as he re-routed, making his way back to intercept Leigh.

---

“Where’s your prisoner?” The sheriff asked, looking at Ward.

“Sir,” Ward started. “We’re LAPD officers on official assignment for the Magic Task Force, and we really need to be on our way. The man behind you is interfering with police business and I highly recommend you not pay any attention to anything he might be saying.”

“That’s not what my friend Danny here tells me. He’s saying that y’all have abducted Leigh Caldwell and are impersonating police officers. Can I see some credentials? Slowly.”

The officers slowly reached for their wallets and showed the sheriff their badges. This seemed to relax him… somewhat.

“As my partner said-” Nick began.

“Did I ask you?” The sheriff shot back. Nick seethed but remained quiet.

“Sir, this orc is an officer of the LAPD and you will speak to him with respect.”

Even with everything going on, Nick puffed up a little at his partner standing up for him. He didn’t have time to appreciate it. Mr. Blue Truck - Danny, apparently - fired a bullet into the dirt near the officers’ feet. Nick didn’t react to the gunshot but Ward jumped. “Quick dicking around. Hand over the prisoner.” Snarled Danny.

The sheriff whipped around to yell at him. “Back the fuck off, Danny. We’ve got this. I don’t need your help.”  Maybe these two weren’t so close. He turned back to Nick and Daryl. “But we will need to take custody of your prisoner until we’re able to confirm your story with the feds.”

“We’re not going to do that,” growled Nick.

“Hand her over or we’re taking you all into custody,” said the sheriff.

“Do it and you’re making the biggest mistake of your life,” Daryl warned, “and judging by that haircut your mistakes are a pretty long list.”

“You want to get smart, son? Fine, hand her over or I can’t be responsible for your safety if you try to leave with her.” He nodded his head towards Danny, who raised a rifle to aim at Nick.

--

Back in the car, Leigh was laying as low as possible, hiding out of view as Nick had asked. She couldn’t really hear what the officers were saying, but the sound of a bullet was unmistakable. She wanted to help but couldn’t think of what to do that wouldn’t just make things worse. A few moments’ silence followed, then another gunshot. A scream. The rumble of another car’s engine arriving and shutting off. Silence for several seconds. She strained her ears for any sign of a voice. If Nick had gotten hurt trying to protect her…

After a few moments, she heard BANG BANG BANG - a frantic knock on the car door. She tried to press herself further into the seat. Leigh winced as someone slid the SUV’s rear door open, then relaxed as she saw that it was Nick. Thank Jirak.

“Leigh, Daryl’s been shot - but he’s okay - and the elf agent from the MTF is here.” He helped her out of the car. She saw Kandomere speaking with the sheriff. The men in the pickup truck were being cuffed and led into the police vehicles.

The sheriff had believed the men in the truck easily enough to threaten Nick and Daryl, but now seemed to be cooperating fully with Agent Kandomere, who appeared to be in charge now. Leigh didn’t really know what had happened but she was relieved that no one was pointing any guns at anyone, for the moment.

On the ground lay Daryl, panting and bleeding from a wound in his shoulder. Nick kneeled down next to him and Leigh followed suit. Agent Kandomere approached the three of them.

“Hey,” said Ward to the small group that had gathered. Even one syllable appeared to be a struggle.

“Officer Ward. Try not to talk too much. My driver is going to take you to a hospital, and I’m going to take your place with Officer Jakoby and the prisoner. Excuse me,” he said, walking away to take a call.

“That guy… just a real… teddy bear.”

“How do you feel?” asked Leigh.

“Like shit, actually...  Thanks for asking.”

“Hey partner- you know there are easier ways to get out of having to hear my Orcish music, right?” Daryl smirked. “Take care of yourself. Text to let me know when you get home. Soon as I get back to L.A. I’m going to bring you some vitamins, and I’ll tell Sherri and Sophia to make sure you take them.”

“Nick, man…  just be careful... And you?” he looked at Leigh. “Try not to…  get him killed, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Leigh said in a soft tone. She felt so guilty she could hardly speak.

Nick helped Leigh to her feet - she was still in handcuffs - and they walked back towards the vehicle.

“So what happened?”

“We called the MTF agent.. I had this phone clipped to my belt, and we put it on speakerphone so the agent could hear what was going on. Daryl and I were going to just stall as long as we could. Luckily, the agent was already following us, and he was just a few miles away. Anyway, that guy from the hotel this morning? He saw the phone, maybe heard it, and fired at me. Daryl pushed me down.” He shook his head. “He took a bullet for me. I can’t believe he did that.”

“Yeah, that’s… Damn, Nick.” She was grateful to Daryl but this was surreal. “I’m glad he’s going to be okay. But all of this - for me? Why do they care?”

“One of the people that, um, that were in that bus - was his niece. He just wanted…” Nick trailed off and shook his head. Leigh could finish that sentence in her head: Revenge. He just wanted revenge.

“You should have just handed me over. All of you are at risk as long as you’re with me. I’ve got a death sentence anyway.”

“I made you a promise, Leigh. I’m not handing you over to be executed.”

“Nick, for Jirak’s sake- You can’t just not do your job. I know you. But even if you wanted to, it’s a little trickier now that we’ve got that weirdo MTF agent travelling with us.”

“I’m going to figure something out. This - sending innocent people to be, well - this isn’t why I became a cop.”

Leigh didn’t want to argue anymore. She leaned back against the car. Nick looked at her tenderly again. “Hey, Leigh, I meant to tell you earlier: happy birthday.”

She laughed drily. “Shit, I nearly forgot. Don’t tell me this is all leading up to another surprise party.”

Whether from exhaustion or adrenaline or just surprise, Nick let out a hearty laugh.

The elf called over to them and, carefully, they helped Daryl into the car driven by Argyle. Nick, Leigh, and Kandomere headed for the MTF vehicle. They hoped for an uneventful night at the safe house.

NEXT CHAPTER

#bright movie #bright fanfiction #bright orcs #nick jakoby #nick jakoby fanfiction #nick jakoby x oc #daryl ward #kandomere #non graphic violence

[dailynewswebsite]

The Matrix is already here: Social media promised to connect us, but left us isolated, scared and tribal

It's time, says the writer, to take the crimson tablet. Diy13 through Getty Pictures

A few 12 months in the past I started to comply with my curiosity in well being and health on Instagram. Quickly I started to see an increasing number of fitness-related accounts, teams, posts and advertisements. I saved clicking and following, and finally my Instagram turned all about match folks, health and motivational materials, and ads. Does this sound acquainted?

Whereas the algorithms and my mind saved me scrolling on the limitless feeds, I used to be reminded of what digital entrepreneurs prefer to say: “Cash is within the listing.” That’s, the extra personalized your group, folks and web page follows, the much less money and time is required to promote you associated concepts. As a substitute, model ambassadors will do the work, spreading merchandise, concepts and ideologies with ardour and freed from cost.

I’m a psychiatrist who research nervousness and stress, and I usually write about how our politics and tradition are mired in worry and tribalism. My co-author is a digital advertising knowledgeable who brings experience to the technological-psychological facet of this dialogue. With the nation on edge, we imagine it’s essential to take a look at how simply our society is being manipulated into tribalism within the age of social media. Even after the exhausting election cycle is over, the division persists, if not widening, and conspiracy theories proceed to emerge, develop and divide on the social media. Primarily based on our information of stress, worry and social media, we give you some methods to climate the following few days, and shield your self in opposition to the present divisive setting.

It wasn’t good, however previous media – like TV, newspapers and books – usually uncovered us to all kinds of beliefs. H. Armstrong Roberts through Getty Pictures

The promise, the Matrix

These of us sufficiently old to know what life was like earlier than social media might bear in mind how thrilling Fb was at its inception. Think about, the power to attach with previous mates we had not seen for many years! Then, Fb was a digital dynamic dialog. This good concept, to hook up with others with shared experiences and pursuits, was strengthened with the arrival of Twitter, Instagram and apps.

Issues didn’t stay that straightforward. These platforms have morphed into Frankenstein’s monsters, full of so-called mates we’ve by no means met, slanted information tales, superstar gossip, self-aggrandizement and advertisements.

The synthetic intelligence behind these platforms determines what you see primarily based in your social media and net exercise, together with your engagement with pages and advertisements. For instance, on Twitter it’s possible you’ll comply with the politicians you want. Twitter algorithms rapidly reply and present you extra posts and other people associated to that political leaning. The extra you want, comply with and share, the sooner you end up transferring in that political route. There’s, nevertheless, this nuance: These algorithms monitoring you’re usually triggered by your unfavourable feelings, sometimes impulsivity or anger.

Consequently, the algorithms amplify the unfavourable after which unfold it by sharing it amongst teams. This may play a task within the widespread anger amongst these engaged in politics, no matter their facet of the aisle.

Social media are a serious supply of stress. Dean Mitchell through Getty Pictures

The digital tribe

Finally, the algorithms expose us principally to the ideology of 1 “digital tribe” – the identical means my Instagram world turned solely superfit and lively folks. That is how one’s Matrix can turn out to be the extremes of conservatism, liberalism, totally different religions, local weather change worriers or deniers or different ideologies. Members of every tribe maintain consuming and feeding each other the identical ideology whereas policing each other in opposition to opening as much as “the others.”

We’re inherently tribal creatures anyway; however notably once we’re scared, we regress additional into tribalism and have a tendency to belief the knowledge relayed to us by our tribe and never by others. Usually, that’s an evolutionary benefit. Belief results in group cohesion, and it helps us survive.

However now, that very same tribalism – together with peer strain, unfavourable feelings and quick tempers – usually result in ostracizing those that disagree with you. In a single examine, 61% of People reported having unfriended, unfollowed or blocked somebody on social media due to their political opinions or posts.

Greater ranges of social media use and publicity to sensationalized information in regards to the pandemic is linked with elevated despair and stress. And extra time spent on social media correlates with increased nervousness, which may create a unfavourable loop. One instance: The Pew Analysis Middle stories 90% of Republicans who get their political information solely from conservative platforms stated the U.S. has managed the COVID-19 outbreak as a lot as doable. But lower than half of Republicans who depend on no less than one different main information supplier thought so.

The Matrix does the considering

Human considering itself has been remodeled. It’s now tougher for us to understand the “large image.” A ebook is a protracted learn as of late, an excessive amount of for some folks. Scrolling and swiping tradition has diminished our consideration span (on common folks spend 1.7 to 2.5 seconds on a Fb information feed merchandise). It has additionally deactivated our essential considering abilities. Even actually large information doesn’t final on our feed longer than a number of hours; in spite of everything, the following blockbuster story is simply forward. The Matrix does the considering; we eat the ideology and are bolstered by the likes from our tribemates.

[Deep knowledge, daily. Sign up for The Conversation’s newsletter.]

Earlier than all this, our social publicity was principally to household, mates, relations, neighbors, classmates, TV, motion pictures, radio, newspapers, magazines and books. And that was sufficient. In that, there was range and a comparatively wholesome info food plan with all kinds of vitamins. We at all times knew individuals who weren’t like minded, however getting together with them was regular life, a part of the deal. Now these totally different voices have turn out to be extra distant – “the others” we like to hate on social media.

Is there a crimson tablet?

We have to take again the management. Listed here are seven issues we will do to unplug ourselves out of the Matrix:

Evaluate and replace your advert preferences on social media no less than as soon as per 12 months.

Confuse the AI by flagging all advertisements and strategies as “irrelevant.”

Observe being extra inclusive. Test different web sites, learn their information and don’t “unfriend” individuals who assume in a different way from you.

Flip off cable information and browse as an alternative. Or no less than put a disciplined restrict on hours of publicity.

Take a look at much less biased sources of stories reminiscent of NPR, BBC and The Dialog.

If you happen to assume the whole lot your tribe leaders say is absolute fact, assume once more.

Go offline and exit (simply put on your masks). Observe smartphone-free hours.

Lastly, keep in mind that your neighbor who helps the opposite soccer staff or the opposite political occasion will not be your enemy; you’ll be able to nonetheless go for a motorbike experience collectively! I did immediately, and we didn’t even have to speak politics.

It’s time to take the crimson tablet. Take these seven steps, and also you received’t give in to the Matrix.

This piece was co-authored with Maryna Arakcheieva, who’s knowledgeable in digital options and advertising.

Arash Javanbakht doesn’t work for, seek the advice of, personal shares in or obtain funding from any firm or group that may profit from this text, and has disclosed no related affiliations past their educational appointment.

from Growth News https://growthnews.in/the-matrix-is-already-here-social-media-promised-to-connect-us-but-left-us-isolated-scared-and-tribal/ via https://growthnews.in

#Growth News

[saraseo]

[minestland]

Prickly pear and claret-cup cactus (these will soon be showing off their bright spring blooms), and the view from the Toroweap desert water tanks. Here is a photograph of one of the many Fairy Shrimp residing briefly in these ran filled desert water pools at Toroweap: www.flickr.com/photos/12150532@N04/32824618843/in/photost... I stopped on my loop hike and later Fred and I returned to these artistic desert water tanks, some brimming with Fairy Shrimp - - to photograph them and enjoy the sight of the short lives of the desert Fairy Shrimp. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Not one to sit still for long, I took photos at the overlook and then walked south to photograph Vulcan's Throne and Lava Falls. Then returned to hike the rim of the canyon along a circular route, cutting through the empty of campers, campground, and spending time enjoying the fairy shrimp show, in many of the recently filled desert water tanks. Part of the appeal of Toroweap is there are no signs saying "if you fall over the edge it is a long way down" or five foot high cyclone fences keeping you away from the canyon rim edge. In short you have to use good judgment and the park service doesn't try to warn and protect the lives of everyone. who can't use common sense, good judgment and care. In other words: Let Natural Selection .... work. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Fred and I did our best to contact "somebody" with the park service, BLM, or any ranger station to find out the conditions of the roads leading to Toroweap (Tuweep) and to see if we could get a permit to camp there for one night (Friday March 3rd, 2017). We couldn't reach anyone and when we were given the opportunity to leave a call back number, nobody did. We decided to head for Kanab, Utah and spend Friday night there and head out to Toroweap early the Saturday morning and make a day trip out of it. There are three roads into Toroweap: 1. From St. George, called the Main Street Route. It is 90 miles long and climbs up over the south shoulder of Mt. Trumbull (good petroglyph panel). It is impassable in winter due to snow and mud. It is the route I took on my first visit to Toroweap in April of 2008. 2. From Colorado City, called the Clayhole Route. This is the shortest way in, just 56 miles but it is impassable when wet (and it had been wet before this March 2017 trip). 3. West of Fredonia, is the so called Sunshine Route. It is 61 miles and is the most dependable way in to Toroweap. That is the road I came out of in 2008 after camping at Toroweap (first come first serve camping back then). And this is the road Fred and I took to and from Toroweap from Kanab. No matter which of the three routes you take in, there is now a gate past the rangers' station, which doesn't allow vehicles to get in and out during "off hours", so no stealth camping. And the road between the rangers' station and the viewpoint and campground at Toroweap, takes care, caution, and high clearance for the last mile or two. Big towing bill if you do a transmission on this stretch. We had a long talk with volunteer ranger Bob on the way in (and later on the way out). The campground was empty he told us and if we could have camped had we known, who to contact (we do now). Oh well. Next time. We saw only a handful of people at Toroweap. Most seemed intent on doing a Chevy Chase "vacation" visit to this beautiful sight. They drove up took a few photos, and left. Fred and I wandered the canyon rim and spent considerable time enjoying the desert water tanks, full from recent rains, and some alive with fairy shrimp. Fairy Shrimp [Branchinecta lynchi] and Tadpole shrimp have incredible "survival and reproduction" strategies as many plants and animals of harsh desert environments do. Freshwater shrimp can complete an entire life cycle in two weeks if needed: egg to egg laying adult. Freshwater shrimp produce two types of eggs. 1. non-fertilized eggs and thick walled "resting eggs". The first kind are produced when water and food are both abundant and hatch only females. When the pools start drying up, food is scarce, and the chemistry of the stagnant water changes - the shrimp produce eggs of both sexes. This generation of mating shrimp produce the "resting eggs". These can withstand freezing, boiling heat, and complete drying out of the eggs (for decades, even for 100 years) UNTIL the next fresh water in the right amounts, falls again. The "resting eggs" can only hatch if the pool dries out completely. Fairy Shrimp, have two pairs of 11 legs, which they use to row their way around in life, swimming upside down. Their color tends to reflect what they eat, so the fairy shrimp at Tuweep were "green" looking. Algae eaters no doubt. They usually hatch in January and die in early March. I will post a few photos I took of the fairy shrimp in the pools at Toroweap. Here is the link to photographs taken, when I camped at Toroweap in April of 2008. A campground owl kept up his call, all night long and a beautiful moon crossed the night sky. A wonderful experience: www.flickr.com/photos/12150532@N04/albums/72157604781519716 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Friday the 3rd of March, 2017: The weather was great. Warm and sunny. Fred and I spent hours hiking the plateau containing innumerable, unique, and artful sandstone rock forms. Little Finland, now located in the Gold Butte National Monument. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Story: There is beauty in winter I do like living in a place where there are four seasons to look forward to. Winter, however, is not my favorite (that would be Autumn). What I have against winter is: 1. adverse road conditions where "getting out" on the road is dangerous, stressful, or impossible. 2. long nights and short days. 3. too much snow, clouds and high winds. 4. cold. I list cold last for good reason. You can dress for cold weather and if the roads are OK, and the weather good there are a lot of things I enjoy doing during the short days of winter. The winter of 2017-2017 has been the absolute worst year in a decade, for poor road and driving conditions (ice, snow, visibility, slush, wind, etc.) The result: cabin fever and too many jigsaw puzzles. So after the last football game on TV I started looking forward to heading to the Southwest as a way to "get outside" and hike and drive back roads as soon as possible. I watched the 15 day weather forecast like a hawk for all the towns closest to my favorite places in Utah, Arizona, and Nevada. Turns out there were some really nice windows of great weather in Southern Utah, Arizona, and Northeastern Nevada in January and February. I was primed to go. I even stirred up some interest among a few of my like minded friends. The problem: When roads were good to drive in Eastern Washington (where I live) and wonderful in the Southwest (where I wanted to go), the roads in between were terrible (covered and iced, traffic accidents, and road closure signs). Around the first part of February there appeared to be a brief opening for road conditions from here to there, with great weather: there (The Southwest). I had two of my road trip friends convinced to go for it, but then yet another succession of winter storms moved across the Western states and I was forced to admit - - road trip #1 for 2017 was not a go. My friends agreed. Trip cancelled. Cabin Fever continued. Another SW road trip weather and road conditions window happened around the 22nd of February. Ed, a good friend and an excellent photographer, whom I have traveled with many times on road trips, had an opportunity to join me. His wife was back in the Southeast helping out their daughter, who was having major foot surgery, and my wife was in Colorado with her two little granddaughters day care duties. So Ed and I set the 22nd of February as our departure date. We had motel reservations set in Boise for the way down and back and then several days at St. George, Utah, where we intended to use as our "base camp" for drives, hikes, and photo ops in the Arizona, Utah, Nevada corner of the Southwest. Ed picked me up in his nice Jeep Wrangler on the 22nd and we were on our way. What a great feeling it was to be "on the road again" and out of the house! We headed for Boise, where we had rooms reserved for Wednesday night the 22nd. Between my house and Boise the roads had been ice and snow clear. No problems driving at all. We headed out of Boise for St. George, at dawn on the morning of the 23rd of February. The farther east we traveled on the interstate, the higher the winds became, snow started falling and worst of all, ice patches started showing up on the interstate. I-84 east of Boise, is an 80 mph highway that some folks will drive at 80 mph, even when ice and snow on the road, coupled with poor visibility tell most reasonable people, that isn't a great idea. About 100 miles from Boise near an exit off I-84 (near Bliss, Idaho), traffic came to a stop. State police were directing everybody off the interstate eastbound, who had not yet passed that exit. The interstate was closed down due to a wreck involving to semi rigs, on the ice covered freeway. We were lucky. Had we arrived ten minutes earlier we would have been past the exit and stuck in the long parking lot of cars, having to wait for hours for the wreck to be cleared and the eastbound lanes re-opened. Ed and I checked the maps and he used a smart phone ap to see that roads all over the area were showing no movement of traffic. It appeared we could get around the wreck by taking highway 26 as others were doing, but I wanted to be certain and ask about the interstate road conditions beyond the wreck between Bliss and Salt Lake City. I jumped out of Ed's Jeep and in blizzard conditions, went over to a police vehicle blocking access to the interstate. He rolled down his window and confirmed that yes, you could get around the wreck by taking a loop on highway 26 but it was slow going with all the interstate traffic, attempting to do so. When I asked about the highway and weather conditions beyond the wreck to Ogden and Salt Lake City, he just shook his head and said "terrible". I returned to the Ed and his Jeep with the bad news, and though both of us hated the decision, we decided to abandon our trip to the Southwest. We called and cancelled our room reservations and started back to Boise, Baker City, La Grande, and Pendleton. Ironically the farther we drove towards Eastern Washington, the better the weather and roads became. At Pendleton, the sun was shining, so we decided to salvage the day and took off for Walla Walla, Dayton, and Starbuck, Washington to visit and photograph Palouse Falls. Ed spent Thursday and Friday nights at my house, so Friday, we took a good weather consolation drive along back roads in the Ellensburg, Washington area to photograph some wildlife and winter snow scenes. Saturday morning Ed headed back over Snoqualmie Pass to his home. Exactly one week after Ed and I had given our Southwest trip a try, I decided that the roads and weather forecast again "looked right" for a the trip that had now twice been abandoned. I didn't feel right asking Ed to commit to another attempt, especially since his wife would be returning home from their daughter's place, so I decided to make Mesquite, Nevada, instead of St. George, Utah, my destination and go solo. I called up another "like minded" road trip, backpacking, hiking friend in Boise (Fred), to let him know I was going to give "strike three" a chance, and head out on in my pickup truck on Wednesday the first of March 1st, 2017, as early as possible. Fred (suffering from major cabin fever, like me), said he would love to meet up with me in Nevada, though he only had a narrow window of two days to spend in the area, due to his work responsibilities. So, I sheepishly called my wife and told her "You won't believe this (but after being married 46 years, of course it didn't surprise her), but I am going to give the trip another - go". Wednesday 3.1.17 I drove to Ely, Nevada.There was only ONE icy interstate section about ten miles long east of Baker City, Oregon, where they reduced the speed limit temporarily to 30 mph, but once past that - - dry road only. When I got to Ely, I got a room for the night. The next morning it was 9 degrees, but no wind, no snow, clear dry highway and THE SUN WAS SHINING. Just before the intersection of Nevada's highways 93 and 168, where I would cut over towards Mesquite, Nevada. My pickup truck shook, then a loud noise boomed. A few seconds later it happened again. I knew immediately what it was, given where I was. Fighter jets (twin tail dual exhaust), were heading single file for some above the desert flight training. They were flying on the deck (a few hundred feet above the ground and at high speed). I pulled over and stopped to watch the last jet cross the road above me and then pull into a vertical climb to join the flight formation gathering. It was a wonderful experience. I got to Mesquite, Nevada and got a room and got my hiking gear ready to go for a trip out to the very recently designated Gold Butte National Monument, a short distance southwest of Mesquite. A cell phone from Fred said he would meet up with me early Friday morning for the back road driving, hiking, and photo ops at: Whitney Pocket; Devil's Throat; and the fascinating rock formations of Little Finland by Mud Wash. We piled into Fred's vehicle Friday morning (a nice roomy Ford Explorer rental unit), and were on our way. The weather was perfect. Few other people out in the area that day. We spent the day hiking and photographing, and bumping along the designated back road routes in the area. To add a little excitement to the day, the left front time of Fred's vehicle blew a hole through the sidewall, while traveling Mud Wash. A Laurel and Hardy scene ensued, as we read the owner's manual, unloaded the back of the Ford Explorer, and got the doughnut spare put on. (Fred doing all the heavy work. Me claiming old age as an excuse for doing the light work associated with the tire change). We got back to Mesquite in time for Fred to get the blown tire replaced and for the two of us to have a nice Mexican dinner at Mesquite. They even had horchata, my favorite drink, when I used to work in Mexico from time to time. Before dawn the next day (Saturday March 4th) we were on our way to Toroweap on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. It was a 56 mile drive, (by the best route) on dirt roads, with a four wheel drive only section near the end. The road started just west of Fredonia, Arizona. There was some conflicting information on whether or not any of the road would be open to Toroweap and we tried in vain, to see if we could obtain a permit to camp the night there. All worked out well though. We decided to spend the night in Kanab, Utah, and make the Toroweap a "day trip", which we did. NOTE: My first and only other trip to Toroweap was in April of 2008. Friend Ed (who had attempted this trip with me a week earlier), friend and photographer John, my son Derek, and I had all four camped at Toroweap on that occasion. We took the long route in from St. George on that trip. With John's guidance, I had just purchased my first digital camera: a Canon Powershot G9, and was trying to learn how to use on the spot. Here are my Flickr photos of that Toroweap trip and camp out: www.flickr.com/photos/12150532@N04/albums/72157604781519716 Fred and I spent the entire day at Toroweap and were surprised to learn that the campground was open but not one person was camping there. I hiked through the campground later in the day and visited site number one, where Ed, John, Derek and I had camped 9 years ago (no permit required then, just first come first serve). I was delighted to find fairy shrimp in some of the sandstone water tanks at Toroweap. Along with tadpole shrimp, I find their life strategy (with eggs viable for up to a century), fascinating. We celebrated our Little Finland on Friday and Toroweap on Saturday good weather and good fortune, with a wonderful, end of the trip dinner at the "Rocking V" in Kanab. I did justice to a one pound rib eye steak and Fred went local with some bison steak washing the meal down with his beverage of choice: a Spiral Jetty. Thanks Fred. Sunday morning Fred headed back to Boise and I dithered. I thought about extending my stay with some hikes in the area but winds in excess of 20 mph and cold weather was going to move into Southern Utah. My wife would be flying home on the 10th, so I decided to start on home myself. I got a surprise on the drive home. North of Ogden, it started blowing and snowing. It got worse and worse until visibility was really a problem, with snow on the road but fortunately no ice. All the way to Twin Falls, it was near blizzard conditions. Then the snow stopped for most of the way to Ontario, Oregon, where I got a room for the night after seeing the huge "Winter Driving Conditions Ahead" warning sign, across the freeway. Monday morning the 6th of March: no wind, no snow, dry road, sunshine. I drove from Ontario to La Grande, Oregon. No problem. Then across the Blue Mountains between La Grande and Pendleton, I was reminded that winter is not yet over in the Pacific Northwest. Solid ice on the road and 40 mph across the Blue Mountains. I kept my pickup truck in 4WD, Everyone, mostly truckers, were driving sensibly in the conditions, so I didn't see any accidents or vehicles in the ditch. I was sure glad I hadn't tried driving the road the night before. At a lunch stop at Meacham (yes of course: biscuits and gravy, side of bacon, and big glass of milk at the Oregon Trail Cafe), locals talked of the snow that was due in the mountains that night. I was pleased to arrive home by noon on Monday the 6th of March, 2017. A good road trip, excellent hiking, good company, and I managed to gain weight on the trip (might have had something to do with Mexican dinner, in Mesquite; Steak dinner in Kanab; and more biscuits and gravy at Meacham). Enjoy some of the photographs. Oldmantravels 7 March 2017 https://flic.kr/p/SHruN5

#grandcanyonnationalpark #toroweap #coloradoriver #roadtrip #northrimofgrandcanyon #sunshinerouteroad

[cecilspeaks]

111 - Summer 2017, Night Vale, USA

A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we lay open-eyed, watching it all.

Welcome to Night Vale.

The City Council reiterated for the 1874th consecutive day that the Dog Park is off limits for both dogs and humans. The fence is electrified and highly dangerous, et cetera. Hooded figures and all that. Since its construction, we have shied from and feared the Dog Park. The Dog Park is neither a park nor for dogs, so what does it even mean to call it a Dog Park? Why do we use language that means one thing to describe something that is entirely else? I don’t know what the word for that place the City Council calls the Dog Park, but I do know it’s time to start searching for that word, and once found, to use it boldly.

The angels – who I can know say are angels and will say are angels because they are angels- held a memorial for Old Woman Josie in her house. Everyone in town came, overcome with the feeling that finally, they could look at these beings and recognize them for what they were. Even the City Council attended the memorial, but refused to make eye contact with anyone. Of course, this positive concrete identification only led to more mysteries. For if these are angels, then where did they come from, and what does that mean for us? Even now we find that we cannot voice these questions. Not because we are not allowed, but because we cannot find the words to ask. Instead, we ate cake and drank coffee in the living room of Old Woman Josie, which was once just that, the place she lived. Now, it is only a room. One by one, we laid our hand on the angel’s hands, and in that moment of contact, each of us in turn found ourselves weeping.

As the party wound down, we all heard a soft pop outside. It was the lightbulb on Old Woman Josie’s porch, burning out.

A man who I know very well came into my house today, which is also his house. He laid his head with its perfect and beautiful hair upon my shoulder and crossed his arms over his perfect and beautiful lab coat. I embraced him. We are creatures of touch, humans. And we retrieve so much meaning and happiness from contact.

“I’ve become too complacent,” he said. “When I came here, I understood this town as scientifically fascinating. And then, gradually, it became my day to day life. I could no longer see the strangeness, but only my home.” “We are all guilty of that,” I said. “But I’m a scientist,” he said. “Well,” I said, “we have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives.”

Just a reminder to all the parents out there. Let’s talk about safety when taking your children out to play in the scrublands and the sand wastes. You need to give them plenty of water, make sure there’s a shade tree in the area, and keep an eye on the helicopter colors. I asked my best friend and brother, Steve, to talk me through which helicopters belong to which organizations. Obviously the black helicopters belong to the world government. Although I had not realized until Steve laid it out for me, how closely they are also associated with the lizard people. The blue ones are Sheriff’s Secret Police. The pink ones are the new Double Secret Police. And the ones painted with complex murals depicting birds of prey diving? [inhales sharply] Well, not even Steve knows what those helicopters are, nor what they want. On Steve’s chart, those are just labeled with the word “RUN”. And then a few hundred exclamation points.

A commercial airliner flying through local airspace disappeared today, only to reappear at the fifth hole of the Sagebrook Pines Private Golf Club and Bulk Supplier. This disrupted all golf activities badly, as well as scaring a family of four who were perusing bulk paper towels offered at a discount price in a nearby sand trap.

I feel, for the first time, that I can articulate that this airliner had flown into some other universe, those divisions being particularly thin here in our quaint little community. This also is the cause of things like dead relatives occasionally joining us for breakfast, or the shimmering skyscrapers and crowded cities that appear for flashing moments in the sky.

Of course, it also could be the handiwork of the East Night Vale Cacti, the basketball team at the new East Night Vale Elementary School. Those scamps are always pulling pranks. Could they transport a large plane through multiple universes? Who am I to say? But probably yes. For shame, East Night Vale! For shame!

My husband and our town’s friend and protector Carlos called a town meeting. He thought we hadn’t checked in with each other in a while and wanted us to have a moment where we came face to face, and saw those faces, and remembered that we are all real and all affect each other. Erika and Erika of the newly acknowledged angels brought corn muffins.. which were inedibly salty. They explained that angels just can’t get enough salt. Dana Cardinal was there, not as our Mayor but as a citizen, one who is so young for the responsibility that has been thrust on her. Tamika Flynn was there, not as a City Council member, but as a citizen, one who is so young for the responsibility she has seized with an army of loyal and extremely well armed teens. Please see my upcoming editorial on why millennials are always joining armed teen militias. Ugh, millennials!

Carlos reminded us that we are by far the most scientifically interesting town in the country, and we joined hands and nodded, because boy, don’t we know it!

We have clear eyes now. We see ourselves for who we are, but more importantly, we see each other. We are still a community.

The Night Vale Business Association is proud to announce the refurbishment of the Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area. Now you might remember that these facilities have always been absolutely beautiful, eco-friendly, and with a pedestrian-focused design. However, they have suffered poor attendance due to the complete lack of water in the desert. But this is where things have changed. The Night Vale Business Association said, in a press release that they drunkenly sung in unison out in my yard last night.

The recent problems we had with other universes intruding on our own resulted in a great deal of pain and loss. But it has left us with an ocean. This ocean is only visible from the Waterfront Recreation Area’s boardwalk, and viewed from any other angle, the area still appears to just be the usual sagebrush and rocks. Carlos said he doesn’t understand how this window into another world works, and warned that no one should attempt to touch the ocean, for we do not know what lurks within it. But, he said, there could be no harm in a sunset stroll along the boardwalk, listening to the soft hiss of the retreating waves.

The local chapter of the NRA is selling bumper stickers as part of their fundraising week. The stickers are made from good sturdy vinyl, and they read, “We genuinely do not value human life.” Cute!

Carlos and his scientists, like Louisa and Nilanjana, are renewing their investigation into the house in the development of Desert Creek, out back of the elementary school. The house that doesn’t actually exist. “It seems like it exists,” muttered Carlos, “like it’s just right there when you look at it. And it’s between two other identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not.” But he says, it is actually a doorway into another world, a world he himself was stuck in for a year. There seem to be secrets about that year he’s keeping to himself. Maybe some day we will learn what they are.

Lights seen in the sky above the Arby’s. Not the glowing sign of Arby’s, something higher and beyond that. One night years ago, two people scared and vulnerable and loving and ready came together for a quiet moment under that sky, and I pretended at the time to understand the lights. But a big part of recognizing the world for what it is is recognizing when you have no idea. Invaders from another world? Harbingers of future terror? A fragment of other universe, fading into our own above reasonably priced lunchmeat? Maybe any. Maybe all. Maybe none.

But here is what I do know: the lights are, among other things, a part of my memory and a part of my marriage, and a part of my love. They are a piece of my past and I don’t need to understand them to understand that. Ladies and gentlemen, the past is here, and it’s about a hundred feet above the Arby’s.

Carlos and Louisa say that the monitoring station near Route 800 is recording wild seismic shifts, even as our ground reminds completely still. He suspects that this might be because multiple universes are colliding, creating earthquakes that are undetectable in the third dimension. “Picture our worlds intertwining,” he said. “And here we are in the coil, the friction of every possibility coming into contact, shaking the very structure of chance and fortune,” he said. Well, submit an insurance claim anyway and see what you can get, right?

Listeners, the traffic. Police are issuing warnings about the ghost cars out on the highways, those cars only visible in the distance, reaching unimaginable speeds, leaving destinations unknown for destinations more unknown. It seems that the ghost cars have taken to drag racing on weekends, which poses a hazard to both pedestrians and other drivers. The police indicate that they will be arresting whatever beings drive these cars, as soon as they can figure out how to pull one over.

And now – The weather.

["Andromeda" by Airospace soundcloud.com/spairoace or on Spotify]

The sun didn’t set at the correct time today or any other day, Carlos and Nilanjana reported. They are quite certain about that. They checked several blocks. But, they said, the sunset was really beautiful, so at least there’s that.

Carlos still does not have any explanations, but he did suggest that while time is especially weird in Night Vale, time is weird anyway. Mostly people don’t notice in the rest of the world, because while time is weird there, it’s always weird in the same way, and so is mistaken for being remotely understandable.

It’s easy to forget in this hot, hot, desert climate, but things would actually be slightly harder for us without the sun. We know this because there was a version of Night Vale in some other universe in which the sun did not exist. And that version of Night Vale was teerrible. Ugh, just no good at all! Their street plan didn’t make a lick of sense, for one thing. There was no flow to any neighborhood! I’m glad I live in my sunny Night Vale, and not any other.

The City Council would like to remind you about the tiered heavens and the hierarchy of angels. The reminder is the council is grumpy that all of this is not forbidden knowledge, but due to the new laws, they are required to inform you that the angels have made all of that information available. Stop by the house where the angels live if you want to pick up a free packet outlining exactly how all of that is organized. While the packet itself is free, it is likely the angels will ask to borrow five dollars. They tend to do that.

Over at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, Terry Williams, its owner, reported the startling news that there is nothing under the pin retrieval area of lane 5. As you may remember, there has been a tiny city of warlike people under the bowling alley for several years now. Which has caused some trouble, although not a lot of trouble, because they were very tiny people. But now there is just a hole in the earth under the pin retrieval area, an empty space containing only my own memories of a night that someone I loved almost died, before I had a chance to truly love him. So good riddance to whatever that town was.

Carlos, perfect and beautiful, came into our studio during the break earlier and we ate lunch together out of Tupperwares. He had some sort of blinking box in his hand, covered with wires and tubes. When he put it close to the microphone it sounded like – well, like a bunch of baby birds had just woken up, really went crazy. He asked if I remembered it. He had brought it by on the first day we had met. He had told me that it tested for materials, but he wasn’t actually sure what materials it tested for. He had just wanted an excuse to come by and talk to me. “Anyway”, he said, “I thought it was a nice memento back when we were fumbling awkwardly toward this life we share.” “But,” he added, “it’s a real instrument that is detecting some actual materials of some kind, so there is a good chance that everything about this studio is deeply dangerous. Please, be careful.” Then we fed Khoshekh, the cat floating in one of the bathrooms here at the station. Carlos pointed out cats don’t float. I stared at Khoshekh, having never really thought about that. After a bit I said, “This one does.” Carlos smiled, petted Khoshekh between the eyes and went back to his work, and I went back to mine.

This is my work, listeners. My work is to speak to you all. To talk you through the day, to murmur you into the night. Settling in to be another clear and pretty evening here in Night Vale, this weird, weird, town. I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with. I know I do.

Good night, listeners, Good night.

Today’s proverb: There is no proof you exist, only evidence. .

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #wtnv transcripts #episode 111 #summer 2017 night vale usa #sorry it's so late #i was out of town #also i used the wrong episode number but i corrected it now

[chilly-territory]

K~Profiles: Munakata Reishi

Munakata's full profile from K Fan Clan (the original text is provided by the wonderful blueseraphima as usual)

[NAME] ・Real name: Munakata Reishi ・Terms of address: Captain, Munakata, Boss Glasses

[PROFILE] ・Birthday: 10/1, Libra ・Blood type: AB Rh- ・Age: 25 (at the time of season 2)

[APPEARANCE] ・Physique: 185cm in height. Tall slender well proportioned figure. ・Face, hair: intelligent with refined features. Wears glasses with thin metal frames. Smile of a person with a hidden agenda. ・Attire: Scepter 4 uniform ・Personal effects: personal use saber. Registration name is "Tenrou" (Sirius)

[HABITS, SKILLS] ・Excels at hypocritical courtesy ・Possesses the power to 'rule' over all things

[IMPRESSION, OTHER NOTES] ・Image color is blue ・Young king pursuing personal ideals ・Unfathomable person whose true motives are unreadable to ordinary people. Comes across as a VIP with the top class abilities and caliber. ・Possessor of a power rivaling that of the Red King Suoh Mikoto.

[POSITION, OBJECTIVES] The Fourth and the Blue King. Head of Annex 4 of Tokyo Legal Affairs Bureau and leader of an anti-ability wielder security organization Scepter 4. Annex 4 is an official public organization, while Scepter 4 is a private armed organization siphoning off the former’s budget and personnel. However, with the Gold King Kokujouji’s backing, it is virtually an agency ranked above the police and functioning as an armed force with more authority. Frequently takes active arbitrary action for the sake of its ideals (preserving social stability).

[PERSONALITY, CONDUCT] His personality is characterized by steady and tenacious advance towards his personal goals. Makes daring moves in irregular circumstances without losing his calm. Does not reveal his real intentions even to his inner circle. Even before awakening as a king, Munakata had clear comprehension, boasting an understanding of all kinds of things and a vision of their significance and correct shape, but was not certain about who he himself was. For that reason, upon awakening as a king, realized that the answer to his question about himself was "a king", due to which has no hesitation or apprehension towards living as a king and working towards his ideals. Does not shy away from making sacrifices for the sake of majority's well-being, but considers it his duty as a king to take the heavy responsibly for it alone and does not reveal that intention to those around him. For that reason, people often see him as unfathomable and scheming. Has a preference for logical setups and puzzle games and seeks paths leading to the solution of the main puzzle (social stability), thinking even of his own existence as that of a pawn. Although a countless number of such routes is possible, what ultimately matters to him is his conviction of "solving the puzzle" as well as the aspect of "enjoying" the process. That trait is often seen as "arrogance" or "boldness" by others.

[FATE, ENDING] Priding himself on his ability, he feels strongly about the duty of a king and intends to devote his life to pursuing social stability. Knowing that the present society is maintained by the Gold King Kokujouji's existence alone, he took it upon himself to succeed that duty after Kokujouji's death. At the same time, due to shouldering the burden of king-slaying from Suoh Mikoto's death, his own fate became uncertain.

[ABILITIES, TACTICS] As a king, possesses enormous power, with its attribute being "ruling" over all kinds of things. Within the boundaries of his activated Sanctum, can restore or reconstruct things. Also, within the Sanctum, the powers of his clansmen are enhanced, while the powers of those from other clans and strains are weakened and even overridden (not in terms of special ability but in terms of raw power). Can freely use the superhuman swordplay and martial arts incorporating superpowers. Even without relying on his superability, possesses swordsmanship capable of overwhelming Yatougami Kuroh without drawing his sword. It was possible mainly due to his intelligence rather than physical training.

[POWER] A (king class)

[LIKES] Tea, wagashi, Japanese cuisine.

[DISLIKES] Disorder, chaos, vulgar individuals.

[HOBBIES] Tea ceremony. Performs the tea ceremony in his office or wherever it is where he dispatches to. Puzzles. Likes block puzzles, jigsaw puzzles, and any other type that requires building an orderly structure. Usually does not smoke, but indulges in smoking from time to time. Smoked for a period when studying abroad.

[FASHION] Due to staying active in his official capacity 24 hours a day, does not have many chances to wear anything besides his uniform. It is unclear if he has any preferences in civilian outfits on the rare occasions of wearing them. For sleeping, prefers Japanese-style clothing (due to its comfort)

[BODY] He is slim but has sufficient stamina. Whether he works out or not is unclear. Due to efficient application of the available physical prowess thanks to his outstanding intelligence, sees no need in having great physical strength. Applying his superpower when necessary, displays superhuman physical abilities. Has severe myopia. His glasses are not for show.

[INTELLIGENCE] Exceedingly high, beyond the scope of ordinary people's imagination. From an observer's viewpoint, when presented with a problem, he provides the solution immediately, seemingly without spending any time on considering it.

[BELIEFS] Officially, honors and respects order, but personally does not necessarily act in accordance with clear-set rules, nor is averse to resorting to extra legal means. Exhibits the pattern of "acting without letting himself be bound by the rules in order to protect the rules of the majority" which can be viewed as self-righteous. At the same time, that way of thinking can also be viewed as a requirement for someone in the transcendental position of an extremely powerful king.

RELATIONSHIPS

[EARLY YEARS] Born to a family running a landscape gardening business. Both parents, as well as his magnanimous older brother, are ordinary people of virtue. Reishi was the only outstanding, high achieving member of the household, but he was not worshiped or avoided for it, he was simply honestly loved as a member of the family. He exceedingly excelled at studies. Has the experience of studying abroad. Munakata lives in the Scepter 4 dorm, while there are 6 people living in the Munakata family house - his father, mother, older brother, brother's wife, niece and nephew.

[TIMELINE] ・1988 Munakata Reishi is born. ・Summer 2010 Munakata awakens as the Blue King. Awashima becomes his first clansman. Suoh and Munakata meet for the first time. ・December 2012 To prevent the Damocles Down, Munakata kills Suoh in the course of the School Island incident.

ATTITUDE AND THOUGHTS TOWARDS OTHERS

[TERMS OF ADDRESS FOR HIMSELF] First person pronoun of choice is "watashi". Rarely, in private, switches to "ore". Second person preferred pronouns are "anata" and "kimi". On rare occasions, uses "omae" to address Suoh. Speaks politely although his words could be viewed as "hypocritical courtesy", sounding polite on the surface but being rude in intent. His catchphrase is "getting straight to the point". Although he usually speaks in a roundabout and obfuscating way, when he wants to make a strong assertion, he prefaces it with this phrase.

[TOWARDS AWASHIMA SERI, FUSHIMI SARUHIKO, OTHER SCEPTER 4 TROOPS] "Awashima-kun", "Fushimi-kun", "kimi". Uses polite language even towards his subordinates, but on occasions mixes in sarcasm or speaks his mind very bluntly. Despite that, tends to veil the true reasons behind his actions, but his subordinates do not mind being kept in the dark much. The tendency could be viewed either as him putting a wall between himself and others or, alternatively, as a relationship of mutual trust at a safe distance.

[TOWARDS KOKUJOUJI DAIKAKU] "Gozen" (Your Excellency), "anata". Takes the attitude of a lower ranking person, but does not understate his dignity as another king and does not show any fear of incurring Kokujouji's displeasure or wrath. His is the attitude of a daring youth.

[TOWARDS ISANA YASHIRO] "Isana Yashiro", "anata", "kimi". In season 1, was interested and at the same time wary of the mysterious boy. After the boy's true identity as the Silver King came to light, Munakata showed the basic degree of respect towards him, and although it is clear that he does not mind establishing a cooperative alliance, he does not fully trust the boy either. Also, feels somewhat resentful towards the Silver King who ran away, forsaking his duty.

[TOWARDS YATOUGAMI KUROH] "Yatougami Kuroh-kun", "Yatougami-kun", "kimi". Had a slight interest in Kuroh ever since Kuroh was Miwa Ichigen's retainer. In season 1, when he learned that Kuroh joined forces with the mysterious boy Isana Yashiro, his interest grew and Munakata was investigating Kuroh through conversations and fights. Kuroh who is straightforward and has faith in himself is suitable to be a Scepter 4 member. Sensing a potential in Kuroh, Munakata wishes he could have Kuroh as one of his subordinates had they been lucky enough to meet differently.

[TOWARDS SUOH MIKOTO] "Suoh Mikoto", "anata", "omae". While the line is blurred, there is a public and a private side to their interactions. For the latter, Munakata's expressions become somewhat rough. The very fact of a private facet of himself he only shows to Suoh Mikoto existing proves that Munakata is human, at the same time it also denotes that not even he is a perfect king.

#k project #project k #k translation

[scummy-writes]

(1/2) I don't know if you've been asked this before, but what are your thoughts on the story and script quality of MM? Personally I thought it was fine, a good balance between drama and comedy, until the secret endings. The secret endings felt awfully like an effort to "rail-road" the story, to the point of reducing MC's role to less than a bit character, and the resolution itself was kinda rushed. I do agree with your opinion on V that, ultimately, it was necessary for him to die in the story

(2/2) But his character suffers because of the terrible handling of ANOTHER character: Rika. It's obvious that she was meant to be a tragic, sympathetic character but falls short of the "show, don't tell" trope because the game never shows us why, only spelling it to us via the other characters that she used to be a sweet person (and even that is dubious). Compare Saeran, who comes off as crazier but garners sympathy by *actually* showing us how he used to be and why he's like that now

(3/3, got longer than expected) The complete lack of consequence was more of a pet peeve, as I find it unlikely that after the meltdown at Mint Eye hq there wasn't any police investigation or testimony sheding light over what happened. That could have been easily handled by showing Seven or Jumin intervening (they would). So yeah, sorry for barreling you with this lol, I just love discussing narrative tropes and found your thoughts on V and Rika very interesting

It’s okay! I like trying to discuss this kinda stuff! It’sfun! I think they’re called Metas?

This might be a little long! As a side note, this is just mypersonal onion about the whole thing. In no way do you have to agree, nor do Iexpect anyone to. 

In terms of storytelling and scripts, I think that for anotome phone game it does a good job. Maybe arguably great, but nothing ‘superduper amazing!!’. Don’t mistake my words though, even though it might not bethe best, doesn’t mean I don’t love it to death. I have just seen freebiegames, even with hardly any dialogue, show a more concise and followingstoryline than MM does.

Granted, I think some obvious faults come from translationerrors, or maybe forgotten notes on characters. A small example that I’ve knowngo around a bunch is Yoosung complaining that he can’t type well on histouchscreen, when in CGs and the RFA handbook we know Yoosung has a flip-phone.So, excluding those kinds of mistakes, which I believe can happen when you havemultiple people working on one game, the main storytelling is a little messy attimes. I think a lot of that has to deal with the fact that they tried to makeeach route vastly different.

For replay value, and to make each route special, they didhave to have them different. And I think a good way to see it is that all ofthe characters routes are AU’s against the True Route, which is Seven’s.Because of this, we sometimes run into the characters acting vastly differentat times, and we’re left to scrape up all these ‘facts’ and try to use those tobuild-on to these characters. At times this is difficult, because they cancounter each other. Usually its small things, but I think there’s a bit ofinformation that gets missed about Rika because of this. Like with the factthat she was adopted by Yoosung’s aunt and uncle, apparently. I think that’sonly mentioned on one route, and referenced in the VIP book where her sectionof family is literally scribbled out, but if we didn’t run into that, we wouldbe left to assume that Rika is Yoosung’s cousin by blood.

Which…Is weird because I think he may say that he’s relatedto Rika by blood during a moment where he’s angry at V.

(Don’t even get me started on how Rika isn’t even her name?Apparently??)

In a way, the storytelling is a bit creative on a wholebecause of that. They change it up so you’re not bored replaying new routes,and so you get to possibly see other sides of characters, but it does fuck someinformation up about the characters themselves at times. There’s probably moreexamples than what I gave.

Though they did manage to make each character soundrespectfully different through the dialogue alone. Not the voice actors, butthe written dialogue. I know there have been many times where I’ve seen ascreenshot of a phone call with no context on the caller, and it’s been very easyfor me to figure out who it was in just a few seconds. That takes some skill!

But to tackle the True Route after ends. Unfortunately tosome, Seven is the true route, since Saeran is the main ‘antagonist’ for awhile, next to Rika. In order to give context for Saeran existing, his motives,and to explain Rika’s absence, they made Seven the True Route. (I’m assumingso, anyway). Now, it is true they could have found a way to include each of theroutes to display the information that Seven’s does, but I think it would havebeen a huuuuge fucking mess. It’s much easier to follow and make if they have a‘True Route’. How the game is needed to be played if you want the ‘full’ story.The other routes are just AU’s that can possibly fill in some gaps ifyou know what those gaps are first.

Annd this is where Rika falls in with your ask (that took mesome time ahbfhs). If we don’t play the True Route, we’re left to assume Rikawas a sweet and helpful person who had an aching heart of suffering shewitnessed, and also suffered from what seemed to be depression since shecommitted suicide.

Now, I don’t know about any of you, but because I’m afiction whore, I called that bs out when V always dodged questions about herdeath. Am I always doubting fictional characters since I play detective gamesmainly? ….Probably, but in all honesty I figured there was more to it thanthat.

Then we get to the True Route and the mess that happens inthe After Ends- V revealing she’s not dead, she’s alive, she’s a cult leader,etc etc. We all know what happens in that mess, though with some randomprevious information, we can infer a few things about her that we weren’tdirectly told.

She was most likely very manipulative from the start. Idon’t know if this would be a learned behavior from Rika’s true family, or thereasons she would be adopted later on, but it is briefly mentioned (I think)that her adopted parents regretted taking her in.

She was possibly using V the whole time, and didn’t actuallylove him.

She used the RFA as a front to get Political Leader’s infoto officially jumpstart her ‘perfect’ world one day. (KINDA obvious but Ididn’t realize how serious it was until a bit after I had played the AfterEnds).

Buut, we never know what led to these thoughts and behaviors.We’re just left to assume that it’s either A) Her MIs, or B) A combo of thatand her real family.

There is a high chance they didn’t write a full fledgedbackstory like we get with the others, about their childhoods at least, becauseof the chance of portraying MIs very very very very verypoorly/stereotypically. It could be argued that it was handled poorly as theyhave it now, but it’s still not nearly as bad as other cases I’ve seen.Instead, like you said, we get second hand info from Yoosung and V mainly, abit from Jumin as well.

As for the dramatic throwdown that happened at the HQ, Ithink that went well. It’s true that it could be possible that Seven or Jumincould have had better timing, stopped Saeran from shooting, stopped a lot ofstuff from happening, but I always assumed that they were unable to reach V dueto all of the members blocking their path, and any general hubbub that couldhave been happening due to Jumin’s security slamming in. And, as we’ve noted,that I still think for the story V couldn’t have survived.

However, with the police investigation, I think it’smentioned they purposely avoided that because of the Choi Boys existence. Theywere never supposed to be alive, and were doomed to hide who they were fortheir life. A police investigation would have brought forth that, and for Rikato be arrested and tried, and if that also happened, Choi Boys (again) are atrisk.

I can see how it’s all “There def should have been one”, butunfortunately to some, money can stop that from happening, especially if itskept under wraps. It seems like Jumin, Seven, and the cult members familes tookcare of the others that were affected…I think that’s what happened.

And in terms of MC being kinda pushed to the side during the After End of his route, I think they had to happen in order to tell the whole story. Because the stuff that happened to Seven was never about us to begin with- We just managed to stumble in and make the Choi’s reunion actually take place, but from that point on it’s all about Seven’s past and Saeran’s past, explaining the whole plot of MM. 

I mean, granted, it might have taken years if for them to reunite again, if they ever did, without us. But at the same time, at that point, it’s still not about us or our choices. 

Does any of this make sense? It’s a lot longer than I meantit to be...;;;

#scum talks #piroco

[tophoustontruckaccidentlawyer]

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