#I like how everyone collectively agreed that Twilight has glasses.

[otiksimr]

I cannot draw equines to save my life.

#I like how everyone collectively agreed that Twilight has glasses. #my art #mlp #My little pony #my litte pony friendship is magic #MLP: fim #mlp: friendship is magic #mlp g4 #mlp twilight sparkle #twilight sparkle #art #artwork #digital art #artists on tumblr #mlp redesign

[jerzwriter]

A Different Fate... Part 2 - Ethan's POV

Book: Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Kaycee) feat. Tobias Carrick

Rating: Teen

Words: 2.7 k

Category: Short-Series/AU

Summary: A conversation with his friend, Tobias, has Ethan recalling a night from long ago and how it still lives in his heart to this very day.

A/N: @youlookappropriate ask and ye shall receive. lol I hope you enjoy this. Participating in @aprilchallenge Dinner, Laughter, Love

Series Masterlist Ethan x Kaycee Masterlist Full Masterlist

“Hey, Buddy!”

Tobias barged into Ethan’s office without so much as a knock, then plopped into the chair in front of his desk with a familiarity and ease that still made Ethan uncomfortable, even after all these years. Worse yet, he knew what was coming next. As anticipated, two Burberry loafers were now resting comfortably beside his inbox. On most days, Ethan would be barking at his accidental best friend. But today, the list of things on his mind was long, and his “buddy” being obnoxious didn’t even make the top ten.

“Did we get the results back for Spencer?” Ethan asked without turning from his laptop.

“Nope,” Tobias replied, refusing to look up from his notes himself.

Ethan slunk back into his chair with a sigh of frustration. Rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses before placing them on his desk. He officially had enough of today.

“Yeah,” Tobias acknowledged, tossing his notebook aside. “It’s been a long one. I think I’m through, too.”

“I won’t be able to rest until we get that kid’s results.”

“Same here,” Tobias replied. “But the lab said early tomorrow was their best estimate. I was just hoping for a miracle.”

A sad chuckle escaped Ethan as he stared out the window into the Boston twilight. 

“Miracles… I gave up on believing in them long ago.”

Tobias had at least a half-dozen witty comebacks at the ready, but one look at Ethan’s forlorn face and he decided it wasn’t the time.

“You know, we should consider attending the AMA’s pediatric conference next month. I’ve been saying it would be helpful to expand our knowledge base there for years.”

“We get about six peds patients a year… do you think that’s the best way to utilize our limited time?”

“We might get more if we improve our pediatric outcomes,” Tobias shrugged. “Plus, I know I speak for both of us when I say failing at these cases messes with our minds way more than others.”

“You’re right on that,” Ethan agreed.

“So that settles it. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“No… hold off.”

“Why?”

Ethan tried to come up with a believable excuse but failed terribly. “Make arrangements for yourself if you like. But I’ll have to look at my schedule before I can commit.”

Tobias glanced at his phone, the conference’s homepage already on his screen… Join us for three days in New York City.

“You know…” Tobias grumbled. “She’s not listed as a speaker. Her specialty isn’t Peds, and in a city of eight million people, odds are, you won’t see her.”

Ethan sat up defiantly and placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. He returned to work without offering Tobias the dignity of a response. Undeterred, his friend continued.

“Of course, there are those who believe the two of you running into each other wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world… and I find myself firmly in that camp.”

“All right, stop!” Ethan barked. “It’s been eight years, Tobias. Eight years! When are you, Naveen, everyone… when are you going to stop?”

Tobias raised a brow as he collected his notebook from Ethan’s desk and stood up. He was already heading toward the door when he spoke again.

“I don’t know,” he yawned, turning around with a smile as he grabbed the knob. “I guess I’ll stop when you stop thinking about her. Until then…”

Ethan considered throwing something at him, but he was already gone. Just as well, his reaction would have told Tobias the one thing Ethan didn’t want to admit: He was right. They all were. No matter how much he tried to deny it, even to himself.

“When I stop thinking of her,” Ethan muttered to himself. “Good luck with that happening.”

Moving to the window, he stared down at the city below as dusk began to fall. The throngs of people below reflected the change in day. Fewer business suits, more dressy clothes. It was Friday night, after all, and that mattered to most people. A lump formed in his throat as he pulled down the shades, doing his best to block memories of a time when it mattered to him.

~~~~~

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been counting the hours all day. After adjusting the cufflinks on his shirt, he checked his reflection in the mirror one last time. Reservations at No. 9 Park, where he planned on sparing no expense. Followed by a stroll around Boston Common and The Public Gardens, places they had shared so many memories over the past three years, then capping off the night with drinks at Roxanne’s.  The whole evening would take place in Beacon Hill, the very neighborhood Kaycee told him she dreamed of settling down in one day. It could be the perfect way to convince her to stay in Boston if that was what he intended to do.

A quick splash of the after-shave she gifted him on his birthday last year, and he was just about ready to go. He needed just one more thing… He remembered the day Kaycee helped him shop for the navy blue blazer he slipped into that night. It was unseasonably warm, so it wasn’t needed… but Kaycee loved it. She’d comment on how it brought out the blue in his eyes each time he wore it. While Ethan questioned that, there was no questioning the way her eyes raked over him whenever it was worn. So the blazer was joining him tonight, even if he didn’t consciously understand why.

Then she opened the door. He had thought this a hundred times before, and he was confident that if he had the privilege of seeing her every day for the rest of his life, he would repeat it daily… and mean it every time. But as of tonight, he had never seen her look more beautiful. Her long golden locks draped over her delicate shoulders, the way her pale blue dress hugged her every curve, the light that never stopped sparkling in her eyes, and that smile that melted his heart. All eyes were on her, and why wouldn’t they be? She was exquisite, inside and out. Radiating the glow of a woman with the world on a string. They weren’t only celebrating the end of her residency but the start of her star rising to heights they could only imagine. Kaycee MacClennan was about to take the world by storm, and Ethan couldn’t be more proud. Not only because of his role in helping her grow into the doctor she would become, but because she could celebrate with anyone tonight… but she chose him.

They dined, they talked, they danced, and she laughed… a melodic sound that was more beautiful than any symphony he could ever hear. A sound that would replay in his mind until the end of time. Kaycee. Her name had become like a prayer on his lips. Ethan Ramsey didn’t believe in many things outside the realm of science, but he believed in her with all his heart and soul.

“To you,” he beamed, champagne flute in hand. “To one of the most brilliant minds, coupled with the kindest heart I’ve seen in all my years. This is just the beginning for you, Kaycee, and I know I’ll be in awe of the places you go.”

“Ethan,” she blushed. “Stop. I owe so much of where I am to you. You’ve taught me so much, and I know I wouldn’t have made it through some of the trials of these past few years without you. So, this toast is as much for you as it is for me.”

“Nonsense!” He rebuffed.

“Hey! You said this is my night; if it is, I say we share this toast. OK?”

“Fine,” he surrendered with a laugh, “but only because you’re the boss tonight. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” she beamed.

Their crystal glasses met with an echoing ring, and Kaycee never looked happier. But, as the bubbly liquid began tickling Ethan’s lips, he felt his pride and happiness begin to morph into a far more familiar emotion… fear.

“Did MacClennan talk to you about NYU/Langone’s offer?”

“Who, me?” Ethan asked. 

Tobias rolled his eyes dramatically. “No, the other 6’4” goon sitting across from me. Who am I talking to? Of course you!”

“Uh, no… not really. She mentioned it in passing, but we didn’t have a chance to discuss it. She told you about it?”

“Well, yeah. But chances are, I let her speak. Did you do the same?”

Ethan’s silence provided Tobias with the answer he needed.

“Look, this probably isn’t my business….”

“Then it’s best you stop.”

“I’d do that if I didn’t give a fuck about you… or Kaycee…, but I give several fucks about both of you. So that gruff little attitude you pull may make her scurry away, but you should know better than to think it’ll work on me. Ethan… talk to her.”

“About what?”

“About what comes next! You’re her mentor, aren’t you? And let’s stop pretending you’re not a whole lot more.”

“Kaycee’s brilliant… and she has a host of people to discuss things with… including you, apparently….”

“Cut the shit, Ethan. She can get a professional opinion from me, from Harper, from Naveen… but we can’t give her the answers she needs from you.”

“And what answers would that be?”

“Give her a reason to stay… of give yourself a reason to go… or tell her you’re not a factor… but stop leaving the poor woman in limbo.”

“She needs to make these choices based on what’s best for her. Nothing more.”

“And what if what’s best for her includes you?”

A snort escaped Ethan as he gathered his papers, his escape already underway. “That’s unlikely, Carrick. And even if it were true, she has to do what’s best for her professionally… personally comes and goes. No use basing her future on a dream.”

“For a man so smart….”

“Good night, Tobias.”

“Is everything OK?” Kaycee asked.

Ethan cleared his throat and excused himself. Confusion turned to panic as he rushed to the restroom for an escape. He leaned forward with the door locked behind him as anxiety gripped his chest. He loved her and knew she loved him… but love was fleeting; it always had been, and he saw no reason to believe it wouldn’t always be. He could uproot his life and follow her, it would be inconvenient if things didn’t work out, but he’d rebound. His career and wealth were established enough that he’d survive, but what about Kaycee?

The truth was, Ethan knew all about the offer at Langone, and it was beyond anything Edenbrook could match. She’d be an absolute fool not to take it. But he knew… one word from him, and she’d remain at Edenbrook in an instant… denying herself, denying the world of all she could offer. And for what? For him?

He looked in the mirror, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as his heart battled with his head. But what if she was the one? What if this was real and they were two halves that made a whole, two people who would always be more perfect together than apart? It went against every notion, every belief he held. Fairy tales didn’t exist. Ethan Ramsey knew that. There wasn’t a single couple in his life that he envied. After spending time with most, he’d return home, grateful for the solitude that had become his life. People hurt us, betray us… leave us. Medicine doesn't do that; knowledge doesn't either. At the end of the day, he could take comfort in what he achieved… knowing who he saved… because his focus was where it should be. Where Kaycee’s should be right now, where…. But he loved her.

He splashed cold water on his face and gathered himself. There was only one thing of which he was certain; this night was a celebration, one she richly deserved, and he wasn’t going to deprive her… or himself… of that. It wasn’t too much to ask for, one perfect night each could hold onto forever, no matter what story tomorrow told.

So he returned to the table, and Kaycee had no idea anything was amiss. The night proceeded just as he had planned until…

 “I had a lovely time tonight,” she said as they approached her door. “You really didn’t need to go so overboard.”

“But I did. It was a celebration, one you richly deserved.”

“It was, wasn’t it… but….”

“But?”

“…it was more than a celebration; I’m just unclear. Was tonight so special because it marked a beginning or an end?”

His years in the medical field allowed him to retain a game face, even as panic welled inside. This was it. She wasn’t taking maybe as an answer anymore, and why should she? She had been patient with him, more than patient, and he’d be a fool to expect any more. She had a decision to make, but so did he, and had afforded him three years to decide… so why was he still so lost?

“Kaycee… you haven’t even made a decision about your next step yet… you should do that….”

“I have,” she interrupted, “I have. All I need to know is, have you made a decision about your future? Yours and mine.”

He took a step closer, lacing his fingers with hers as he gently stroked her cheek. He longed to see her blue eyes sparkle in the moonlight, but she had turned them away. 

“Kaycee, you know how I feel about you, and you know how much you mean to me. But….”

He never got to finish. Everyone has a limit, and he could tell Kaycee had reached hers. If he had acted quickly, a grand gesture or confession could have saved them, but neither was to come.

“I can’t do this again. I’ve made my choice, and you’ll have my resignation on your desk tomorrow. I have to go where I’m wanted… where I’m needed, and that’s not here.”

He could hear his father, Naveen, Tobias… himself... screaming, “Tell her, just tell her how you feel!” But he had taught himself to silence these voices for over half his life, and if he was ever going to change, it wasn’t going to be tonight.

“I’ll always cherish tonight… I’ll cherish all of our memories over the past three years, Ethan. I just wish I hadn’t allowed myself to believe that  -  this  - might be forever.”

“Forever can take on many meanings,” he frowned. “Sometimes forever doesn’t necessarily mean forever… not in this way, but that doesn’t mean we won’t….”

“I know…” she whispered.  “I know.  I… I should go inside.  Good… goodbye, Ethan.”

Ethan Ramsey was a man of science and didn’t believe in many things outside of its realm. But a bright and beautiful young doctor had stepped into his life and changed all that. He believed in her. He believed in her with all his heart and soul, if only he could learn to believe in himself.

~~~~~  

A single tear rolled down his cheek as he recalled that night. Eight years ago should feel like a long time, but the wound was as fresh as if it were created yesterday. The moment as real as if it had happened just seconds before.

He looked down at his desk and shook his head with a chuckle. A flyer for the AMA convention was conspicuously left behind.

“You don’t stop, Tobias. Do you?”

Ethan pulled out his phone, his heart racing as he scrolled his contacts to find the one name he could never bring himself to delete. It had been eight years, and he had no idea if her number was still the same, but it was all the hope that he had.

Kaycee, it’s Ethan… in case you deleted my number long ago, and I wouldn’t blame you if you had. I know this is out of the blue, but I will be attending the AMA’s pediatric conference in New York with Tobias next month, and I was wondering if you’d like to meet for dinner or even coffee or drinks. It’s been entirely too long, Kaycee. What do you say?

He stared at the message for what felt like an eternity. His thumb toggled rapidly between “send” and “delete.” Then he fell back with a sigh. He had finally made his choice.

(sorry lol)

Permatags: @a-crepusculo @animesuck3r @annoyingmillenialnewbie @crazy-loca-blog @differenttyphoonwerewolf @doriopenheart @fayeswiftie @genevievemd @gryffindordaughterofathena @inlocusmads @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kingliam2019 @liaromancewriter @lucy-268 @onikalover @openheartforeverinmyheart @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @secretaryunpaid @socalwriterbee @sophxwithers @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

More tags in reblog.

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #choices fanfic #open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #ethan x kaycee #playchoices

[beyblaiddyd]

corby corby corby multiples of 5!!!

5. Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

I think U1 Corby could've cried on command like... out of genuine stress. Like if they'd stopped to think about the circumstances of their life they would've burst into tears at any second. So it wouldn't have been fake it would've been real. U2 Corby hasn't yet undergone the same stress but is also a performer so I think they like... might inconsistently be able to. They probably think about emotional music to tear up.

10. What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

U1 Corby liked to share that they could do magic/had telepathic communication lol. U2 Corby absolutely can't stop trying this stupid kitschy pair of spirit glasses on every scenario ever.

15. What’s the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they’re alone?

With friends Corby tends to take more of a backseat and let others lead/defers a lot, but at work Corby can be quite bossy and likes to take the lead/try to push things in a specific direction. It gets complicated when they're friends with their coworkers because they have an awkward tendency to try to placate while also trying to get things done. When they're alone they're probably calmer but also more like... miserable. The go-go-go of being around people is good for their brain even if it leaves them high strung.

20. Who do they like as a person but hate their work? Vice versa, whose work do they like but don’t like the person?

Very interesting question... I think growing up they probably read a lot of Lovecraft-inspired works but detest the man, as most people reasonably do. As for the other way around... I think they're one of those Nightwish fans who never got over Tarja Turunen leaving so they think Anette Olzon and Floor Jansen are objectively very talented but can't enjoy modern Nightwish albums.

25. What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

They know a decent amount about symphonic metal and also lots of horror movie trivia. They also have a lot of experience with online occult communities and the lore of haunted dolls but funnily none of that has come up. They've got a collection of "haunted" dolls (that aren't haunted at all) (they got scammed) (they think they're cute anyways)

30. When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it’s personal versus when it’s professional?

Corby is the type of person who gets really invested in their work, and especially with how intense and Important their job is they definitely tend to experience the guilt very similarly. If anything they probably feel especially guilty for mistakes in a professional setting since they feel like people are relying on them.

35. What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

Oh they've made so many big morally questionable decisions... that picking out a small one is pretty hard. Funnily enough their smallest questionable choice is probably okaying slides on a powerpoint that revealed an NPC's nature without asking his permission first and then pretending they had no idea what the slides meant afterwards (got sims negative relationship points for this).

40. How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?

They'd probably get self-conscious about their own handshake being equally loose or wonder if their hands were sweaty or something haha. It would encourage them to complete the handshake as fast as possible.

45. What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?

I think they're a comedy movie hater. I also think they'd have extremely strong extremely negative opinions about the Twilight books but that's correct and totally important

50. What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

Corby very strongly believes that it's like immoral to trouble other people with things they think they can solve on their own. And they're also willing to sacrifice a lot/make other people take on a lot of risk in order to protect their loved ones. I think everyone is like that to a certain extent but Corby is significantly more tight-lipped about critical information than I would be in their situation.

55. What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

I think they actually have a pretty complex relationship with monster movies just because they don't like the general depiction of Monstrous Creatures/people. They're probably also not really interested in Wiccanism but I can imagine people think they should be with their general occult interests/magic-doing. In U2 they're a magician at a circus as well, so I'm sure people expect them to have a better sense of humor than they do LOL

#cocoa talks too much #yayayayya corby

[logicgunn]

Can we have more of your WIP? Pls???

Sure! Here is the second scene.

*****

John’s left feeling lost and alone as he disembarks and heads into the base, the Junior Airmen following him like he’s the Pied Piper. He shows his ID at the desk and is asked to wait by the clerk as she heads into the back room for something. He’s expecting her to bring back a senior officer who wants to take the opportunity to dress him down in front of everyone else, so he’s surprised when she hands over a large, brown envelope and directs him to the office of Colonel O’Neill down the hall. John has met the man a few times in passing and at official events. O’Neill was the one to pin his oak leaf onto his dress blues when he was promoted to Major on account of John having no family ties. Congratulations, Major, he'd said, and he saluted John with genuine pride. It had made him feel important and useful and noticed, not the fuck-up his father saw the last time he looked at him. John doesn't want to face O’Neill now, in the twilight of his dismissal. Doesn’t want to see disappointment in the face of a man whose opinion actually means something to him. 

He heads down the corridor anyway, knocks on the door with O’Neill’s name on a golden plaque and waits to be called in. The door swings open unexpectedly and a harassed Master Sergeant rushes out with a precarious armful of personnel files and a pair of glasses sliding down his nose. John tucks his envelope under his arm and straightens both the pile and the glasses with thanks from the man, who hurries down to the next office and opens the door with his elbow. John forgets that he’s holding O’Neill’s door open until the man himself speaks. 

“Are you in or out, Major?” 

John snaps round to see a bemused Colonel O’Neill sitting behind his desk with his feet up on the desk. 

“Sorry, sir,” he says, closing the door behind him. “Reporting as ordered.” 

O’Neill nods and gestures John to the visitor’s chair. John sits stiffly and waits for the inevitable, but O’Neill just huffs a laugh. He drops his feet to the floor with a thump and leans forward. 

“I was wondering how long it would take—“ 

John feels his stomach fall. He knew this was coming, but— 

“—for the Force to finally fuck up so hard you wouldn’t be able to let it go.” 

“Sir?” asks John, in surprise. 

“Your whole career the brass has been trying to push you into a neat little box and slam on a lid. I’ve read you file from cover to cover, son, and at times they’ve even tried to tape that lid on, but you’ve always gone your own way.” 

“Yes, sir,” says John, partly to be agreeable, but also partly because there’s a hell of a lot of truth in O’Neill’s words. 

“Anyone with half a brain cell would have known that you’d never agree to leave a man behind enemy lines.” O’Neill picks up a pen and starts fiddling with the clicker. “And they should never have asked that of you. Of anyone.” 

John’s mouth falls open but no words come out. How could they? Every other senior officer has treated him with disdain since he came back with Lyle’s body, like his very presence was an affront to their delicate sensibilities and their all-American values of coveting oil and raping countries on a whim. He finally finds his voice. “Sir—” 

“Have you opened the envelope?” interrupts O’Neill. 

“No, sir.” 

“You might want to take a look at what’s inside.” 

John looks down at the envelope in his hands, pristine except for the edge where he’s been gripping it tightly in his hand. He rips it open and pulls out the pieces of paper inside. One is a travel pass, the other a page from a newspaper called the West Highland Free Press. He unfolds it and sees a collection of job advertisements, one of them circled in fluorescent pen. It’s short and sweet: 

Pilot needed for rural air service. Must hold current LARP and CPL(H) or similar. Extensive experience with both airplanes and helicopters is a must. Live-in accommodation provided.  

John flips the paper over to check the other side. There’s a list of things for sale or purchase, a notice of rams available for something called 'tupping’, and an advertisement for a white-water rafting centre. He flips back to the jobs, then looks up at O’Neill.  

“Sir?” 

“You have an interview tomorrow evening,” says O’Neill. “I’ve booked you on a military transport to RAF Lakenheath, then called in a favour and got you a flight to RAF Lossiemouth. From there you have a ride to Inverness airport and a flight to Eorsay.” 

“Sir, I’ve never even heard of—” 

“Don’t mess it up, Major. You don’t have a flight back.” O’Neill’s attention turns to the paperwork on his desk, so John stands, salutes, and exits the office. He has no idea what’s going on, but before he can think about it, the desk clerk that handed him the envelope comes rushing down the corridor. 

“Major Sheppard?” she huffs. “Your flight is due to depart shortly. If you’ll follow me?” 

#mcshep #au #ex-military and priest #john sheppard #rodney mckay #anon #ask #thanks!

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Feral Fatality

(Part 1)

So this has been in my works for a week now. You see, it was a typical day for me scrolling through Tumblr and visiting some....tags, and then a short drabble inspired me to write about a feral reader totally not because I was craving violence and murder no, which reached more than 4k words on the first draft so here we are! Shitty title, I know. The proofread work went over 7k, and it's not even finished yet. Once I'm done posting this and my main orc fic, I will get into the requests so please be patient!

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Brief blood and violence at the end of the first part

Contains: Swearing, mentions of neglect and abuse (not graphic)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

-

Screams slit through the twilight as the frigid autumn wind blew harshly through the trees of Camp Crystal Lake. The rustling of bushes and cracking of twigs echoed as foolish teenagers attempted to escape, running for their lives when they were the ones who dared step foot in the place, tarnishing it with their sins.

Jason Voorhees, the innocent kid who died several years ago; pushed to the lake by his bullies and left to drown for being different and unsightly— all because the counselors were busy with their fucking business—, returned as an undead killing machine right after his mother murdered them and died. His sole purpose: to protect the land and purge the people who had no right to be here, sentencing them to a horrendous death.

One by one, they struck the ground, lifeless, either chopped into pieces, beheaded, or stabbed countless times by his trusty machete.

Limbs...ripped off with his bare hands.

-

The muffled snapping of branches reached your ears as the vehicle's wheels ran over them, stirring you from your nap. You rubbed your chilled skin under your clothes as you looked out of the window, thumping your forehead on the glass when you leaned forward the moment you saw the scenery. Trees, both ancient and young, their leaves varying in hues of green, orange and red, filled your line of sight. It was still early in autumn, your favorite time of the year, not hot but not too cold either. You watched in awe as the warm-colored leaves cascaded down from the branches and down to the ground, some carried by the wind farther from their origin.

The view did its best to distract you from a couple in session a seat before yours. They always seem to do that all the time, regardless of place or occasion.

This was a week-long getaway after graduation, they said.

Nothing but a white lie.

An excuse for the girls to hook up with their campus crushes, a week of fucking and smoking drugs.

You, however, just got invited —forced— by your "friend" Eloiza, the self-proclaimed hottest girl in the entire school, typical captain of the cheerleading squad; blonde and curvy. Her words were much too sugar-coated that even a deaf person could tell she had ulterior motives.

She only planned to use you as a tool to raise her fame. A stepping stone for her own gain.

That wasn't the only reason though.

Everyone knew who you were, but only by your name. News and rumors alike spread like wildfire through gossipy mouths. Your deeds were known throughout campus.

(Y/N)(L/N), top academic competitor and multiple-award winner, a straight-A student for five years in succession. Some believed you were a genius, the rest called you insane.

You wouldn't call yourself a genius though, you did not possess the obsessive need to acquire eternal knowledge and discover the secrets of the universe as most of them do, to effortlessly solve every problem that comes their way.

If that were the case, then you wouldn't be here in the first place.

You only love learning and indulging in the beauty of Mother Nature, plus a handful of hyper-fixations.

Fine, a buttload of hyper-fixations. And such came in handy in various situations.

You were unrivaled, not one of your peers could come close to your level of wit. Many people wished to have a brain like yours, and just as many hated you for even having one, praised you just as much as slandered your name and judged you.

Despite your reputation, the poor school didn't broadcast it, at least every time. The staff probably got tired of repeating the same phrase over and over again. Which caused more than half of the whole campus to never believe you to be the one behind all of that, laughing at your face when you said your name.

"You? The (Y/N) (L/N)? Ha! As if I'd fall for that! Everyone knows how she looks. You're the absolute opposite!"

"You got to be kidding me."

"You're a joker, aren't you? Is this a prank? If so please stop it, don't pretend like you're her."

Yep, and it goes on and on and on. They were right, you didn't look like someone who would win contests or excel in class.

You constantly wore clothes that hid your form, silent unless spoken to or asked to answer, distant and reserved, you preferred the company of books and nature to the rowdiness and prying hands of humans. A sociopath they deemed you. Quite an extreme word to use when you simply wanted to enjoy the only things that made you happy in this living hell.

You only know a handful of people who approached you first-hand and praised you genuinely, even asking for an autograph, which really surprised you.

Yet, they would never understand you even if you explained, because you can't, words evade you when it comes down to voice out what you feel. Even if you can, no one would care. And even if they did? You doubt it was real. Everyone wants to use you, and they seem to believe you'd let them. You didn't trust anyone. The last time you did only left you sobbing on the dirt.

You wanted to be left alone.

To connect with nature and get as far away as possible from your parents. Parents who kept shouting profanities at each other, the main cause for your depression and anxiety levels to skyrocket, the shaking turning into trembling, 7 hours of sleep to barely a blink.

That's why you agreed to go in the first place.

You hated your household—despised it— a mess of broken shards of bottles and ceramics littered your kitchen floor more often than not. You didn't bother cleaning it up anymore, your mother would just waste away her money on more things to break and throw them at your joke of a father when they fought anyway.

Not only that, you thought...No, you believed if you worked hard to be the best and win countless competitions, your parents would give you recognition and reconcile for your sake, but no, no, no. They didn't care one bit about you or your medals, it was as if you were never even included in their lives at all. Even birthday celebrations ceased to exist in everyone's books after your 13th.

So you gave up.

Down into the void, your wishful thinking went, that they'll become better people over time, that the attention and love you deserve will be given one day. Instead, you wallowed yourself in your studies, besting everyone in everything academic. Oh, but you weren't athletic. Far from it. Damn, you were getting thin and sleep-deprived from being neglected, dark circles under your eyes every time you looked at your reflection. People hating your existence wasn't helping, some teachers even suspected you of cheating.

There's no way in hell you'd let yourself get dragged down to end up like them! You were of legal age now, a fresh graduate from high school, you doubt your parents even knew that since they didn't fucking show up on your graduation day. You were moving out of that shithole of a town. Anywhere is better than where they breathed and spat their poison.

And so here you are. Standing in this breath-taking and mysterious place. Camp Crystal Lake, it is named, secluded, barely touched by modernization as it is hidden between mountains and trees as far as the eye could see. Not to mention its namesake, the lake, you imagined it would mirror the sky, be it day or night. You loved it, you adored the fresh, breathable air that went through you the moment you stepped out of the van.

You also knew about him.

Resolved to never go back to that goddamned house, you took everything you had and needed; the special little trinkets you've collected through the years shoved into a box, the few clothes you had, art materials, and your precious books carefully packed inside a big travel bag, along with your stocked up canned goods, convenience food, snacks, and toiletries.

And other, important things.

You hauled your baggage out of the van and got off, immediately moving to the side and away from everyone.

You got used to people ignoring you that you didn't care anymore.

Why waste your time with them when you can have all of it to yourself?

Eloiza led the group into the larger cabins, the others went straight into the lake for a swim. You even notice some teens disappear into the trees, most likely for a quickie.

In return, you stayed out of their way, fully satisfied being invisible and with your own company as you trudged to a cabin, the one you caught a glimpse of earlier in the van. It was a long way's separated from the rest, closest to the forest and hidden behind a few trees.

You were panting when you finally stopped in front of it, clearly not used to walking long distances and carrying stuff near as heavy as your weight.

Upon closer inspection, you found yourself gaping at its appearance. The wooden walls lost their color as they aged, white and brown mushrooms grew on the ground along with green moss sticking to the beams, and a few vines crawling their way up and on the roof. Despite all of that, the cabin looked sturdy still.

There's this "one with nature" vibe that drew you to it, like a string pulling you closer and inviting you. Ominous most would say, but you almost cried when the rich scent of earth and oxygen filled your lungs as you took one big inhale, sighing in content for once. It was a lot smaller compared to the others, but you didn't care. As long as you were left alone with your stuff you were a-okay.

Perfect.

You turned the knob and peeked inside, letting out a small gasp and opening the door wider to see the whole thing.

Old as it is, it was proper and neat, regardless of the tiny cobwebs on the upper corners. A small, square dining table sat in the middle of the first part of the place, two wooden stools placed underneath. There were cupboards on the wall and a simple sink with an empty space to the side. You went to the next room, doorless and separated with but a wall of thick plywood. It had a single bed in the corner, off-white cotton sheets sitting atop, not a wrinkle in sight. No pillow though. There's a decent-sized closet along with a small table on one side of the bed. One of the windows had a hole in the middle, a ray of sunlight streaming in through the cracks. It was too big for the size of a gunshot, so maybe a rock.

A bit hesitant, your fingers traced the wood, feeling the inconsistent texture. When you went through the back door, your smile reached your ears when trunks of trees and bushes greeted you...

Wait, is that what you think it is?

Stepping closer to the treeline, your jaw dropped when you spotted a thicket of fruit-bearing plants past them, gathered in a tiny clearing.

Blueberries.

Purple little cuties poked out of the green shrubs, sporting a vibrant hue that caught your eye. The sun shone overhead and providing the energy they needed. Blueberries managed to grow in the area despite the trees fencing them.

Tempted and suspicious, you crouched down, inspecting the shrub if it really was a blueberry plant and not a deadly doppelganger. Once you were sure it was, (it would be hilarious if you simply died from nighshade poisoning), you plucked one and brought it to your mouth. It was sweeter than you expected, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. You hummed in delight, wiping the juice with your thumb when it dribbled out, staining your finger and lips.

You didn't want to anger anybody. Hell, coming here was already trespassing, so you didn't push your luck and left it alone, hoping they'd forgive you for picking one. They surely didn't look wild with the way they lined up.

You scanned the rest of the area, eventually going back inside to unpack after your little evaluation.

-

The sun was a hand's away from setting when you finished. Pride swelled in your chest at the work you did, your things stocked and organized with care inside the cabinets and drawers. You won't have to worry about your food for now as cupboards were filled to the brim with them. You also had a decent amount of money left from your savings account that your parents weren't aware of. Prize money, allowance, and the salary you got from doing online jobs all went into it. The camp was a few miles off the road, and a couple more to the nearest gas station with a convenience store. Very far yes, but it's better than living with the people who made you do this in the first place.

You just hoped you wouldn't die walking.

Everything was worth it, anyways. You were free now, at least that's what you think.

You trudged to the bed, eyeing the cushions, wary and a little scared to touch the sheets that appeared to be cleaned just recently, you didn't even lay a finger on them ever since you got inside. Oh, but your tired muscles were screaming to just flump down and relax.

So you did.

You dumped yourself face first and inhaled. It wasn't smelly nor fragrant, just the simple freshness on the cotton fabric. You felt beat but ain't sleepy, yet, so you reached to the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a book to pass the time as you waited for the sun to go down and give way for the moon. Its spine and pages had creases, worn out and yellow-stained from age and use. It was a horror-mystery novel told through a first-person narrative, a story of a middle-aged detective and her Maine coon in their attempts to solve a murder case of a young European lady named Cassandra Chase.

You dozed off in the middle of chapter 21, the part where Dinnie, the cat, discovers a valuable clue to the crime, a rotten limb in the dried basement well.

—

—

Jason settled down on the stairs of his porch; shoulders relaxed and hunched as he leisurely sharpened his machete with a small whetstone. Lines of sunlight kissed him through the leaves of trees, the birds in the area chirped on their perches, and the grass swayed, gentle, as a cool wind passed by.

His day be so fine. No troublemakers to deal wi—

The alarm rang, announcing unwelcomed arrival. As if a switch flipped inside, he's already on his feet, making his way swiftly to their location.

A new batch of wretched youngsters, another day ruined. Hunting them down makes his blood thrum in his veins, yes, but they soured his mood, just when he was at peace. He's dead set on slaughtering them in the most gruesome ways possible, only then he could go back and enjoy the serenity the nature around him brings.

He surveyed the area, camouflaging with the wilderness, silent as he watched and counted the soon-to-be corpses, his mother's voice at the back of his mind, guiding him.

They decided to go either to the main cabins, or the lake...even into the trees.

All but one.

Jason already planned to cut down the couple later as they lose themselves in the forest, doing nasty, dirty things to his camp. The killer shifted his attention to you, curious as to why you didn't join the lot. Instead, you walked back down the road. He followed and saw you approach the small cabin, separated from the rest, your eyes widened...

Adoration?

You were quiet— except for the little gasps of awe you let out in between pants—as you looked around and over the place. The ones you came with were rowdy and destructive, a complete opposite. He hid as he observed you from afar, moving around to adjust his vision on you. You smiled every time you looked to the trees, he noticed.

Why were you smiling like that? Why did you pick this cabin? Were you planning on defiling it?

The last question in his mind made his blood boil. He'll kill you first if that was the case. That cabin you chose was special, it was where he and his mother used to stay. He occasionally visits that one to keep it clean and free of dust. If you even think of—

Jason, sweetie...look closer. She does not have such intentions.

His mother's words rang in his head. Even from where he stood, he could see what you did inside. You looked a little hesitant, touching and drawing back your hand before letting your fingers feel the wood as if it was something delicate. Despite the initial...shyness? You proceeded to make it your home, somewhat, dropping the large duffel bags you carried on your front and back, and a similarly large roller case on your left. It was as if you planned to stay for a long time.

Jason hears you take a long breath and sigh as you went out the backdoor. You grinned wider when you saw the nature around you. You stepped forward, straight in his direction...

For a moment he thought you saw him, seeing your jaw drop. You moved closer, and he just froze there, until you crouched down.

Oh, his plants.

He watched you as you gently picked a fruit, your gaze...soft. You brought it to your mouth, some of the juice spilling on the side and you wiped it with your thumb.

Cute.

You went back inside and continued to unpack your things, carefully maneuvering around the cabin.

Maybe he'll spare you if you continue to be good. You didn't do anything dirty, yet. It's only a matter of time before the camp is shrouded in darkness and his hunt will begin.

Let's see what you'll do before that happens.

-

Jason tracked down the three that went into the forest. He knew the place like the back of his hand, and it was easier to pinpoint them as he heard moans.

What he saw was utmost disgusting, two girls pleasuring a male with their mouths in broad daylight.

Kill them, my boy! Such foul beings need to die! Kill them, kill!

He circled them, steps soundless. Jason gripped his machete and brought it down the guy's neck, embedding the weapon into the bark, the head rolled down, oozing with blood, and fell against the women, drenching them in red. Not a single cry left from their mouths as he sliced both with one swing, blood pouring out of their throats and staining the ground. Jason dragged their bodies and tossed them into a pit he dug beforehand, making quick work in burying them.

A swift end. Now he waits.

#jason voorhees x reader #jason x reader #friday the 13th #blood #violence #slatra #lmao #my writing #fiction #horror #slasher x reader #feral reader #slasher x fem!reader #reader insert #slasher fic #slasher x reader fic #jason voorhees #friday the 13th fic

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 6: You Know You Got Me In The Palm Of Your Hand]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Mean It by Lauv.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex and violence, slavery in American history.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii​​​​​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​​​​​ @writerxinthedark​​ @maggieroseevans​​​​​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​​​​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​​​​​ @escabell​​​​​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​​​​​ @someforeigntragedy​​​​​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​​​​​​​​​ @deacyblues​​​​​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​​​​​​ @brianssixpence​​​​​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​​ @some-major-ishues​​ @haileymorelikestupid​​ @loveandbeloved29​​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

What The Fuck, Washington Animals Are Weird

I woke up in a bedroom drenched in a rainbow of darkness, shades of grey vacillating from charcoal to the wings of a mourning dove; indolent dawn rain pattered against the window. There were no glaring veins of sunlight spilling in through gaps in the curtains, no promise of dry invigorating heat, no whistle of vicious parched wind. Toto, we’re not in Phoenix anymore.

“Ugh,” I complained to the empty room, unraveling from a tangle of blankets patterned with cacti and pure white clouds and rust-orange suns.

I clicked off my iPhone alarm—I’d beaten it by two minutes; my circadian rhythm was finally conceding that this whole Pacific Time thing was permanent—and read my nine new texts from Joe.

3:12 a.m.: Hey it’s an emergency what’s the plural of octopus

3:13 a.m.: Rami is insisting that it is octopuses

3:14 a.m.: But it’s octopi, right? Right?? I just announced in front of everyone that it’s octopi

3:15 a.m.: Scarlett is verbally abusing me

3:18 a.m.: Oh you are probably asleep

3:21 a.m.: Update, according to the internet Rami is right and now I have to assume a new identity and move to Antarctica

3:25 a.m.: We can discuss logistics of the Antarctica relocation tomorrow

3:26 a.m.: Hope you like penguins

3:30 a.m.: Okay goodnight!! Don’t let the mythical creatures bite!!

“That man,” I murmured to myself, smiling.

I typed out: It’s definitely octopuses, you clown. Then I deleted ‘clown’ and replaced it with its Italian equivalent: pagliaccio. Text sent.

Joe responded almost instantly. I had to ask Lucy what pagliaccio meant and now she’s verbally abusing me too. Send help. See you at lunch. xx

Wait, two Xs? What did Xs mean?? Kisses???

Did Joseph Francis Mazzello, sexy undead Italian man, just send me multiple text kisses?

“You’re gonna give me an aneurism, Chicago boy,” I muttered at my phone as I slid it into the pocket of my flannel pajama pants. And then I glanced out the bedroom window into a tussle of rain and thick, caliginous fog.

Just a few feet beyond the misted glass, its leathery talons hooked around a branch of Charlie’s decades-old red alder tree, was an owl. But not just any owl. A hulking, spotlessly white owl.

“Oh, hey, you,” I whispered, leaning closer, pressing my palms against the cold window. My hands left transparent imprints in the condensation. “Hey, buddy. Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? I sure wish I was. Did something wake you up? Did your idiot vampire boyfriend disturb you with a series of ridiculous texts?”

The owl just contemplated me with unnervingly vast, slick, engrossed eyes. And there was something else, too: those eyes were blood red.

“So you’re an albino owl, huh big guy? Good for you. You know, usually albino animals don’t last all that long in the wild. Because they’re really easy for predators and prey to spot. Or they get skin cancer. So congratulations on living to become the voluptuous, tremendously creepy creature that you are today. Job well done.”

The owl stared back at me unflinchingly, blinked, then resumed staring. Rainwater gathered in swelling beads like blood drops on its ivory-colored beak and talons.

“Well,” I noted, turning away and grabbing my shower towel off the back of the desk chair. “You don’t get that in Arizona.”

Thirty minutes later, I was bounding down the stairs two at a time to meet Charlie in the kitchen. He was browsing through his daily newspaper at the table, drinking coffee and nibbling messily on burnt triangles of toast. Crumbs littered his moustache.

“You didn’t tell me that living here came with the added benefit of freaky albino animal friends.”

Charlie crinkled his forehead at me. “Huh?”

“How was bowling with the dads last night?”

“Oh, awesome!” he exclaimed, folding up his newspaper and slapping it down on the table. “We bowled against the team from Mora and it came right down to the wire, but we caught them. Dr. Lee got a strike on his very last turn. He always seems to do that...he’ll be bowling hit or miss all night and then when it really matters he manages to pull a strike out of nowhere. He’s a beast.”

“He’s a pretty remarkable guy,” I agreed, rummaging through the cabinets for Pop-Tarts.

“He mentioned that you and his son were really hitting it off,” Charlie said, grinning. “Not the ragey blond one. The spindly annoying one. What’s his name again? Josh? Jimmy?”

“Joe.” I conjured up my best poker face of lofty indifference. It crumbled like a sandcastle beneath reckless, rushing footsteps.

“Ohhhh, I saw that!” Charlie said, pointing, delighted. “Check out that smile. My gorgeous, brilliant progeny has a crush. I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t be single for long up here. Alright, I’m ready. Bring on the grandchildren.”

“Shut up,” I pleaded good-naturedly.

“Relax, I have great news. According to Gwil, that Joe kid is pretty wild about you too.”

“Oh, is that what you old guys do between bowling turns? Betray your children’s deepest confidences? Matchmake them over nachos and chili cheese dogs?” Still, my curiosity was piqued. “What else did Dr. Lee say about Joe?”

“I think the exact word he used was...” Charlie reminisced, sipping his coffee, curls of steam pouring over the rim of the mug. “Smitten.”

Supernatural Pictionary

I turned the notebook to Joe so he could see; everyone else momentarily covered their eyes or looked away. Then Lucy started the timer on her iPhone. Thirty seconds.

“Go!” Lucy announced.

“I think it’s a boat,” Rami said, hesitantly, haltingly, squinting at Joe with great concentration.

“Do you?” Joe teased.

“Yeah. But I’m also getting something about a fish.”

“Maybe I’m trying to make you think it’s a fish because it’s actually a boat,” Joe replied flippantly.

Rami muttered: “Or you want me to think it’s a boat because it’s actually a fish.”

“Interesting.”

“Now you’re mentally singing Never Gonna Give You Up just to fuck with me.”

Joe gasped, pressing a palm to his chest. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do!”

Scarlett snickered, dunking her chicken tender in honey mustard, slurping Coke through a straw clenched between crimson-painted lips. “That sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“Fifteen seconds,” Lucy warned.

“Fish or boat, boat or fish...” Rami chanted, peering fixedly at Joe.

“Make a decision,” I taunted, hugging the notebook to my chest.

“I’m going with boat,” Rami decided.

“Final answer?” Lucy asked, then stopped the timer when Rami nodded.

“Loser!” Joe cackled victoriously, leaping out of his chair, waving his L-shaped fingers in the air. Calawah University students at nearby tables glanced over with wide, startled eyes, their beloved chicken tenders briefly forgotten. “How’s it feel to not win every round of a game, huh?! Loser!”

I flipped my notebook so Rami could see the extremely unskilled pencil sketch I’d drawn there: a smiling fish. “My condolences.”

“Damn.” Rami pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and slid it across the table to Joe. Joe snatched it up, tucked it into the waistline of his jeans like a stripper collecting money in her G-string, and slung his arm around my shoulders.

“We are the champions. Bask in our glory.”

Scarlett turned on her iPhone flashlight and waved it in slow arcs over her head. “Youuuuu are the champions, my friendssssss...”

From my usual lunch table, Jessica gazed at my esteemed place among the Lees with palpable envy, resting her chin in her hands. I had worked out a schedule that seemed fairly obvious given my extensive experience as a child of divorce: lunch with Jessica et al. one day, lunch with the Lees the next. I took a bite of the Chipotle veggie bowl that Joe had insisted on ordering for me and tossed Jessica a sympathetic wave. Get Ben’s Snapchat for me! she mouthed back. I harbored serious doubts that Benjamin August Hardy, former professional assassin, born in 1893, had a Snapchat.

Joe’s words from last week rolled around in my head; I could see him all over again, nodding to the enormous painting hung in Gwil’s upstairs office, telling me about those startling, ethereal figures who had initiated Ben into life as a vampire. They call themselves the Draghi. They collect dues from covens, offer protection, keep order, protect our secrets. But they also demand loyalty. They force people they want into service. They might try to make it seem like you have a choice, but you don’t. They destroy anyone who tries to resist them. And they feed on humans.

“This is so awesome,” Lucy sighed, elated. “We could never play Pictionary before, drawing something is way too much of a mental process, Rami always figured it out right away...”

But now they had a built-in blindfold, someone who could draw without Rami getting a peek into their thoughts, a fighting chance at hiding the truth from him...for thirty seconds, at least.

“Okay Benny Boy, you’re up.” Joe darted over to Ben’s side of the table and massaged his tense, muscular shoulders as Ben grimaced. “You got this. I believe in you. Baby Swan is gonna pitch you a home run.”

“I’ll pass,” Ben said.

“You can’t!” Lucy cried. “Ben, please? Rami got Scarlett’s, and then he didn’t get Joe’s...and I know he’s going to see though me immediately. You’re our only chance to tie things up and maybe beat him!”

“Traitor,” Rami told Lucy affectionately.

“Uhh...” Ben hesitated, glimpsing longingly at the doors that led outside to the grove of bigleaf maple trees. He was fidgeting restlessly with his vape pen.

“Come on, Benny!” Joe begged. “I’ll owe you. I’ll do anything.”

Ben perked up a little bit. “You’ll do my Calc 2 homework for a month?”

Joe groaned theatrically, but nodded. He was wearing a grey U Chicago hoodie today. “Fine. Okay. But you’re gonna have to learn that shit eventually, I can’t take the MCAT for you.”

“Deal.” Ben bumped his knuckles against Joe’s.

“Batter up,” Joe heralded in his best mock-umpire voice, grinning at me expectantly, drumming the table with his palms. “Go Baby Swan, go! What will she choose? Will she continue with the nautical theme? Will she change it up, maybe switch to beloved Chicago landmarks? Baseball or food? Will she invent a variety of pizza even more despicable than pineapple?”

“Hm.” I flipped to a fresh notebook page, scratched my temple with the eraser end of the pencil, then quickly sketched a picture for Ben. “Okay, I’m ready.” I showed the drawing to Ben while everyone else covered their eyes.

Ben shook his head, scowling. “You’ll have to try again. I have no idea what that is.”

“Really?!” I checked the picture again. Okay, it definitely didn’t belong in the Louvre or anything, but it was lifelike enough to be decipherable. “You don’t recognize it? At all?”

“No,” Ben replied flatly.

From behind his shielded eyes, Rami scanned through the images in Ben’s mind. He dropped his hands onto the table. “SpongeBob?!”

“Who...?” Ben ventured.

Everyone else looked too. “Oh yeah, that’s definitely SpongeBob,” Joe said, then chuckled. “Aww, Baby Swan, you even remembered his little necktie!”

“It’s so cute!” Lucy trilled.

Ben just stared at the picture, blinking, completely lost, increasingly morose. And now there was a new guest at the table; or maybe not a new one, maybe just a quiet one, something that perched on the ledge of every conversation and field of vision just waiting to tap its claws against the wall and make its presence known: that interminable reminder of Ben’s unconventional past life, of how incomparable his vampiric upbringing was to those of the rest of the Lee kids.

“Benny Boy, you’ve never seen SpongeBob?” Joe inquired gently. “No problem. We’ll have a marathon tonight. I have the entire series on DVD. Also several Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy action figures.”

Scarlett snorted. “This is why you’ve been single since Hoover was president.”

“I wasn’t single the whole time,” Joe corrected.

“Oh, really?” Not that I’m interested, my voice suggested. I was a total liar. I was super interested. Thank the great deity that Rami and Ben couldn’t read me like a restaurant menu. Today’s specials are Being In Love With Someone Wildly Inappropriate for $15.99, and also Lamenting My Own Lack Of Sexual Experience for $11.99. Oh, and clam chowder.

“He had a couple of...what would you call them?” Scarlett combed her elegant fingers through her voluminous blonde hair. “What’s the modern vernacular? Fuck buddies? Booty calls? Netflix and chill partners?”

My stomach lurched; I nonchalantly buried my fork in a mountain of guacamole and left it there. I kept my lips turned up into a smile like a mask. Of course he’s loved other people. Duh. He’s hot and immortal. Get over it. But that didn’t calm my pounding heartbeat at all, didn’t soothe that sudden and irrational melancholy.

“Whoa whoa whoa, okay, you’re making it sound way worse than it was,” Joe protested, glancing at me nervously.

Scarlett continued: “It wasn’t serious, whatever it was. None of them would have cared about your action figure collection or obsession with a city you haven’t lived in for fifty years. It wasn’t your personality they wanted. Thank god.”

Oh this is bad, I thought helplessly. How am I ever going to be able to compete with the memory of countless gorgeous vampire girlfriends?

“Uh, ScarJo, you’re single too.” And Joe’s nickname for her was strangely apt; Scarlett could pass for Scarlett Johansson’s younger, blonder, much hotter sister. And Scarlett Johansson, in case you’re somehow unaware, is already pretty fucking hot.

Scarlett flashed a grin. “Entirely by choice.”

“And much to Mercy’s eternal and profound concern,” Lucy told me. “She stages an intervention at least twice a month. Did I overhear one last week, Scarlett?”

“Oh jesus, yeah. I was like, ‘Mom, what the hell do I need a husband for? I have my own money. I can fix household appliances. I have a vibrator. I’m good to go.’”

Joe rocked back in his chair, howling. “You did not tell Mom that!”

“I did. She was so distraught. She just kind of pinched her eyes shut and shuddered and then went out back to feed the alpacas.”

“Scarlett, babe,” Rami managed between gales of laughter. “A vibrator isn’t going to keep you company for all of eternity. It’s not a suitable substitute for a life partner.”

“You’re right. It’s even better. It’ll never abandon or disappoint me. Assuming I keep the batteries fresh, of course.”

“Oh my god,” Lucy giggled into her hands.

“She’s not wrong,” I said, shrugging, sipping my Diet Coke.  

And Joe peered over at me, surprised, intrigued, slowly raising his thin dark eyebrows. I winked back. Yeah, okay, I’ve never slept with someone. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never had an orgasm.

“Ah, loud thoughts! Loud thoughts! Joe, please!” Rami moaned, pressing his balled fists to his forehead.

Ben smirked. “There’s a color I’ve never seen from you before, Joe.”

“This family is the worst!” Joe exploded.

“I like that girl,” Scarlett decided, signaling to me with glossy maroon fingernails. “She can stay.”

Joe sighed, flustered, then shook it off as he turned to me. “You coming over tonight?”

“I can’t spend every night at your house petting alpacas, mob guy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling, draping his arm around the back of my chair. “Why not?”

“Well, my tonight-specific reason is that I’m visiting a friend.”

“Cool. Your friends are my friends. Can I visit too?”

“You’re aware that you’re a legit stalker, right?” But actually, Archer was dying to meet Joe: the loud Lee, the approachable Lee, the Lee who I definitely liked more than a Tinder swipe could ever convey. This could work. “Offer to buy dinner and you can come.”

“I’m a walking Visa, baby.”

Ben stood, hauled on his backpack, gathered up his trash to throw away. “I need a smoke break before Chem. See you guys later.”

“Don’t forget!” Joe called after him. “SpongeBob marathon starts at 8! I’ll bring the Milk Duds!”

And when Ben disappeared through the doors, a solemn hush descended over the table.

“Poor guy,” Lucy said softly. The other Lees nodded.

And again, I recalled what Joe had told me in Gwil’s office, what he had said when I asked how Ben came to join the Lee family. He was assigned to us, to be the liaison to our coven. And Gwil saw something in him. Potential, suffering, unrealized decency, I don’t know. But Gwil worked on him for years, trying to convince Ben to leave the Draghi when his contract was up and come live with us. To give a peaceful life a try. And to be honest, Ben never seemed interested. But something must have resonated with him, because we opened the front door on October 15th, 2016 and he was sitting on the steps of our porch with a single suitcase, puffing on that fucking vape pen and watching the storm clouds roll in off the Pacific Ocean.

But why would they just let him leave? I had asked, tracing my fingertips over the uncanny and magnificent faces in that painting. Why would they let him live?

Because they know how valuable he is. And because they think they can get him back.

“I think he’s a good person,” I said, breaking the silence. “You know. Underneath the whole being raised to be a killing machine thing.”

“Yeah,” Rami replied, frowning thoughtfully. “Just try not to spend too much time alone with him.”

Car Jacks And Sneak Attacks

“Joe, this is Archer James Foxchild, my first-ever best friend.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” Joe said, shaking Archer’s oil-stained hand. “I understand you are really good at making mud pies and poking dead animals with sticks.”

Archer chuckled. “It’s true. We found a shark tooth down at La Push one time and I convinced Baby Swan here that it was from a sea monster. She had nightmares for months. Charlie called my dad over it and I got my Game Boy taken away.”

“No!” Joe gasped in horror. “Were you a Pokémon guy?”

“For sure.”

“Ruby or Sapphire?”

“Emerald.”

Joe grinned. “This dude knows what’s up.”

“And to think, my grandpa tried to tell me that you guys were freaks,” Archer replied.

“Well,” Joe conceded. “Not all of us.”  

“Maybe you two should start dating,” I said. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit in my Honda and eat my Taco Bell cheese quesadillas and Cinnamon Twists and try not to interrupt all the sex.”

“Yes, you brought Taco Bell,” Archer sighed euphorically. “Give me five minutes, I just gotta finish rotating these tires real quick.” He jogged to the other end of the garage, knelt beside a Ford Mustang that was propped up on a jack, and starting twisting off lug nuts with a tire iron.

“You have a nice place here,” Joe observed, strolling around the small garage with his hands in the front pocket of his U Chicago hoodie, eyeing the fractures in the concrete floor and the spidering cracks in the windows. “You have any investors?”

“Are you kidding?!” Archer replied from the Mustang. “No, man, it’s just me. I rent for now, but at some point I’ll buy my own shop. Once I’ve saved up enough. A great big one with shiny new equipment and no mice squeaking behind the walls.”

“What’s your cash flow like?”

“I’m netting around three grand a month after taxes.”

“Not bad!” Joe noted admiringly.

“Yeah. It’s a hustle, but I love it.”

“Hey, I don’t know if you’d be interested—and absolutely no pressure if you’re not, really—but I do a lot of work with start-ups and I’d love to help you get into your own shop. By this Christmas, preferably. If we can work out a deal.”

“Really?!” Archer peeked incredulously over the hood of the Mustang.

“Absolutely.”

Archer beamed at me. “This guy is willing to drop serious cash to look good in front of you. You should probably marry him. No prenup though.”

I held my pinky out towards Joe, grinning. “No more sad prenups.”

He laughed and hooked my pinky with his. “Bankrupt me, bitch.”

I heard the metallic clang of a lug nut hitting the concrete floor and rolling under the Mustang. “Come back here, you bastard,” Archer muttered, then dropped to his stomach and crawled beneath the car.

“Hey, kid, be careful,” I fretted, crossing my arms across my chest and taking a step closer.

“Relax, Baby Swan, I am a professional, changing a tire for me is like feeding a fish for you, so just chill and keep fantasizing about those Cinnamon Twists—”

There was a squeal of metal as the car jack collapsed and the Mustang came crashing down. In a fraction of a second—faster than I could see him moving, faster than I could loose a scream—Joe had soared across the garage, yanked Archer out from beneath the falling Mustang, and dragged him to the center of the room.

“Oh fuck,” Archer wheezed, his dark eyes huge and fascinated and horrified. “Grandpa was right.”

I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)

We rolled up to the Lee house in my 1999 Honda Accord just as I polished off the last of my Cinnamon Twists and Archer chewed, tentatively and dazedly, on a Cheesy Gordita Crunch. The sun was beginning to set in a clouded sky that perpetually threatened rain.

He asked Joe for the fifth time from the back seat: “But wait, seriously, no one is going to eat me, right? Because I’m too young to die. I haven’t taken enough vacations yet. I can’t die without seeing Hawaii. I want to swim with the sea turtles.”

“No, none of us have ever eaten people. Well, almost none of us. Maybe stay away from Ben.”

“I would like a little more exposition,” Archer replied, blanching.

“Hey, if you stay until 8, you guys can join us for the SpongeBob marathon!”

Gwil and Mercy were waiting on the front porch, thanks to Joe’s ‘hey I accidentally exposed myself as a paranormal being and now we have a new friend, plz don’t be mad okay love you see you soon!1!!’ text.

“Welcome, sweetheart!” Mercy fussed, enfolding Archer into her arms as soon as he stepped out of the Honda. “Would you like some hummingbird cake? I just baked it this morning. And maybe some sweet tea too. And some peanut butter cookies. And banana pudding.”

“Sure,” he responded, bewildered. This lady does not seem like a bloodsucking demon, that voice said. And he was absolutely right.

“I’ll fix you up a tray,” Mercy promised, and hurried into the house.

“We’re so very happy to have you, Mr. Foxchild.” Gwil shook Archer’s hand firmly. “We don’t get many visitors around here. I’m sure you understand why.”

“My grandpa always insisted that there was something off about you guys. Especially you, Dr. Lee. Said you shouldn’t still be around.”

“Yes, I imagine that would have been disconcerting for him. He must have remembered us from the 1940s...that’s the last time we settled down in Forks. It’s not often that someone recognizes us after so long, but it happens. It was just Mercy and me and Rami and Joe back then. And look how far we’ve come.” Gwil beamed warmly, then turned to Joe. “But really, son, you’re going to have to stop telling humans about us.”

“Hold up, I was not responsible for her!” Joe exclaimed, waving at me. “Take it up with Ben!”

The garage door rumbled open and Scarlett sauntered out, wiping her filthy hands with a rag. She halted abruptly, stood there in her high-waisted vintage jeans and black crop top and bare feet with maroon-colored toenails, tilted her head and pondered Archer with an innocent sort of curiosity that I hadn’t seen from her before.

“Wait,” Archer said, gaping. “Is that...is that an Aston Martin Vantage in there?!”

“You bet,” Scarlett replied. “You want to learn how to work on it?”

“Uh, hell to the yeah!” He trotted over and they vanished into the garage together.

“Huh,” Joe muttered, watching them. “She was nice to him. Very weird.” He whirled back to me. “Anyway, come on. I promised you an education in classic rock music. And I shall deliver.”

Joe’s bedroom was a chaotic jumble of economics textbooks and Chicago Cubs paraphernalia and U Chicago apparel and action figures and comic books and classic rock posters. There was a massive Italian flag tacked to the wall above his bed. But what caught my attention immediately was a life-sized cardboard cutout of Ben lurking in the corner by a bookshelf full of cassette tapes.

“How is there any possible logical explanation for that?” I asked, pointing.

“Oh, that! That was a joke. When Ben first showed up, he pretty much lived in his room and never came out. Gwil was worried. Mercy was heartbroken. So I made a cardboard cutout of him and would bring it to family activities and do this really deep and seductive Ben voice when I pretended to have conversations with him. It gave the whole situation some levity...and I think Ben secretly liked that we missed him enough to make an artificial version to fill the void.”

“So this bitchy, brooding, blood-craving Ben I met is actually a drastic improvement?”

“Oh, Baby Swan,” Joe confided, almost sadly. “You have no idea what he was like four years ago.”

“I’m glad he has you. All of you. That he has a chance to get better.”

“I think you might be good for him too. Seeing a human as a real person instead of a walking, talking Hi-C juice box. And you care about him, don’t you? Despite everything.”

“Of course. It’s not his fault they taught him to be a monster.”  

Joe just looked at me for a while, and then he cradled my face with one hand and grazed a thumb across my cheek “You’re never going to stop saying things that knock me into next week, are you?”

“Joe...” I hesitated, laying my hand over his. His skin was smooth and yielding yet strong, cool yet not unnaturally so. Refreshing. Safe. Fan-fucking-tastic. Oh noooooo. “Are we a thing?”

“Why? Do you want to be a thing?”

“Oh, uh, no, I was just wondering if we were.”

He stepped away, teasing me with a crooked smirk. “...So you don’t want to be a thing?”

“What would that entail?”

“Well...we’d be an official thing, you and me.” He shot finger guns at me, and then towards himself. “Which means you can’t be a thing with anyone else. And neither can I.”

“Ahhh, I see. So this thing is an exclusive thing.”

“Will you shut up and just admit that you’d totally be thrilled to be a thing with me?”

“Fine. Whatever. We’re a thing.”

“Nice.” He high-fived me.

“This is the most romantic moment of my life.”

“But wait, there’s more.” He went to the bookshelf, browsed through his cassette tape collection, found the one he wanted and popped it into a boombox that was probably older than I was. The frantic opening piano notes of I’d Do Anything For Love poured out.

“Meat Loaf,” I said in disbelief. “Really. This is the product of your superior taste in music. This is the culmination of over a century of musical experience. Meat Loaf.”

“The man is a genius!”

“This is all an elaborate joke about my vegetarianism, isn’t it?”

“No,” Joe mused. “But now that you mention it, I have yet another reason to force you to appreciate this song.” He took my hand in his, spun me around like a ballerina in a slow and careful circle, sang along—with extreme and dramatic enthusiasm—to the music.

“And I would do anything for love

I'd run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I'd never lie to you and that's a fact...”

“I don’t dance,” I cautioned him, laying a palm against his chest to catch my balance. That brisk, comforting scent of pine and snow and peppermint was everywhere. It feels like I can’t stand to be away from him. Like I’ll never get close enough. “I am terribly uncoordinated. I will step all over your feet. And I’m really not sure if I can trust you. You didn’t even know the plural form of octopus until like eighteen hours ago. You’re kind of a disaster. A, you know, uh, unexpectedly charming, unconventionally super cute, kind of bizarrely enchanting disaster.”

“Yeah,” Joe whispered, smiling, tilting up my chin, leaning in to kiss me. “I like you too.”

Cato

He came out of the oak trees like a ghost, pushing aside massive chandeliers of Spanish moss that blotted out the dusk sun, his expensive shoes sloshing in the marshy water that flooded the rice field. He was wearing a full suit, but no top hat; his hair was black and chin-length and wild around his face. And at first I thought he was a hallucination, a dream conjured by heat sickness or those first dreaded signs of malaria. He was unnervingly, uncommonly beautiful; beautiful like a hurricane, beautiful like lightning or an eclipse. But he was real. I straightened up as I watched him approach, my back aching in protest, a basket full of seedlings slung over my shoulder.

“Mr. Cato.”

His voice, clear and beckoning and twisted by an accent I’d never heard before, rang in my skull like church bells. He called me mister. This white man called me mister.

“Yes sir?” And I almost added: You want to be careful there, sir. The water moccasins like to hide among the tree roots, especially when the sun starts going down. But I had an inexplicable feeling that this man wasn’t afraid of things like snakes. Maybe the snakes should be afraid of him.

“Mr. Cato,” he said again, this time to himself, very quietly, tasting it.

I kept trying to look away, to disentangle my gaze from him like a hook out of a sturgeon’s mouth, because staring piercingly and astonished at a white man like that in the rice swamps of South Carolina in 1851 could get me beaten or the lash, could get my teeth pried right out of my jaw. But it didn’t seem to bother him. He grinned, hugely, all-knowingly, under prehistoric golden eyes like an alligator’s. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. And he was proud.

“Do you want to be free?” he asked, almost hissed, still grinning from the tree line.

What kind of question was that? Did a sandpiper want to fly? Did a coyote want dirt under its paws and flesh disappearing down its throat? But that wasn’t something you ever confessed aloud, not if you wanted your feet on the ground instead of swinging ten inches above it. But this man wasn’t a master, wasn’t an overseer. He wasn’t from the South. He didn’t carry a whip or a club to remind you of the rules of the world. He stood there tall and radiant in the shadows of the fading daylight like he was the one who wrote the rules to begin with; which meant that maybe he could change them. “Yes sir.”

“I can only take you,” the man warned. “No others. No family. No friends.”

“No trouble, sir,” I told him. “They sold my family. They hanged my friends.”

The man’s grin stretched wider under glinting eyes. His canine teeth were sharp, I realized: like a coyote’s, like a snake’s fangs. He held out his hand. “We are going to get along very well, you and I.”

I let the basket fall from my shoulder. I slogged through the mud and rows of wispy verdant rice plants to meet him in the shade of the oak trees. And there, for the first time in forever, a man with skin the color of bones looked me dead in the eye and shook my scarred hand.

“Welcome, Cato,” he whispered; and I was home.

He took my face in his cool palms, gingerly, reverently, like a lover. He touched his teeth to my throat. And every nerve ending in my body flooded with wildfire as he dragged me, screaming, into the depths of the forest.

[diana-3]

Day 3: Roses and Cupids Knife

“I just wanted to pick some stupid flowers.” Diana murmured.  “Is there a traditional way of saying…” Crow waved his hand, looking for the right words.  “Fuck off?” Diana finished for him, taking the light slap from Quin without trying to stop her. “Yes and no. I could decline in person, but I thought I had already done that and then the next day there was another knife. I think he’s been talking to Zavala about persistence.”  “There is a notable difference between persistence and harassment.” Crow said, glancing at the knife before taking a knife out from one of the holsters on his thigh and looking it over.  “Just because we know that difference doesn’t mean everyone does.” Quin said with a sigh. “You could always tell him you have another date?”  “With who?” Diana closed her cyan eyes and folded her hands on her stomach. “Everyone knows that Hunter, you and me had a falling out. And the Shaxx excuse won’t hold up this year.”  “Make someone up.” Quin offered, “Isn’t there some social standard that if you have a date with someone else that the repeat offender will lay off?”  “Not always.” Diana answered but I wouldn’t object to someone being my stand in date.”  With Diana’s eyes closed, she couldn’t see Crow etching away at his knife before holding it and a white pen over to Quin and nodding. Quin took the Knife and wrote her own information on the other side before handing it back to Crow. He kicked at Diana’s foot, rousing the exo from her meditation and laid the knife down on her stomach. “I don’t think I should try to throw it at you from this distance, but anyway we could be of assistance?” Crow slowly pulled off his helmet and shook his head, running his fingers through his hair and smiling at her as she sat up. His eyes were darting around the area, keeping his eyes open to any sort of disturbance or movement. The many deaths he had suffered at the hands of other Guardian’s for his face had taught him to be overly cautious. His movements were slow and calculated. Diana’s laughter caught him off guard and pulled his eyes back to her as she hit him in the shoulder, gently, with her fist.  “You two wanna be my Crimson Bonds?” “It wouldn’t be the first year we were,” Diana reminded her friend, folding her hands in her lap and smiling gently. “And it will dissuade any further attempts by Hatem or any other suitor that will turn eyes your way.”  “Diana!” A deep voice boomed behind her and made her groan from deep in her gut. The quick rate at which Crow put his helmet back on, turning his back from the noise made both the women glance at one another with anger. He was far to practiced at that. “I’ve been asking you for like three days!” A titan with purple and golden armor thundered between the trees, “I’ve even taken up that stupid Hunter tradition. Why won’t you just accept?”  “Why would I Hatem?” Diana growled, not bothering to look at him. “I’m not interested. One strike fireteam match up isn’t grounds for a romance. You should have taken the first no as a sign and left well enough alone!” She got to her feet and yanked on Crow’s cloak, before holding out her hand to Quin who took it gently and pulled herself up to her feet. “Anyway, as you can see, I have Crimson bonds anyway. It’s time to finally lay off.” She glanced back at the hulking Titan and sighed. “Besides, Iiya has been waiting literally YEARS for you to ask him out. He’s been gaga over you since that race during the first Guardian SRL. If you’d quit being so damn blind to it, you could have a truly loyal Crimson Bond.”  “Iiya has?” The Titan sounded bewildered, “Why hasn’t he said anything?”  “Because you’re too busy trying to woo every other guardian who you get paired up with, ya dolt!” Diana snapped, wrapping her arms around Quin and Crow’s waist and pushing them forward gently. “Now if you’ll excuse us, you have someone to go talk to and we--”  “Have flowers to gather.” Crow responded, wrapping his arm around Diana’s waist and pulling her gently away from Hatem as his Ghost materialized beside him. “Come on, I know these ruins that have the most beautiful flowers.”   They had walked in silence the entire way. A comfortable silence, rather than one born of awkwardness as they picked their way through the brush and occasional clearing. Crow was leading with an easy gait, his helmet still on. Glint, Joel and Chiron were conversing above their guardians heads in low voices as the larger three stopped occasionally to gather flowers or tall grasses to weave into ropes. When they reached a cliffside, Crow pointed down and looked over his shoulder.  “I found this recently. Not sure what it used to be. A vacation home maybe.” Diana and Quin both gasped in awe at the ruined structure. It had been large, and although the ceiling had long caved in and only the bones of stone and wood remained in a skeletal stance, it was still marvelous. The women didn’t wait for Crow before jumping down the cliffside, their Ghost tailing along like graceful snowflakes. The structure dwarfed them all as they picked their way around the outside. Time had washed away any sort of coloring on the outside, and the remaining furniture visible through the remaining pieces of glass was covered with grime, dirt and dust. Quin stopped moving when she found what should have been an opening, the doors long since taken away. Rotted or broken and removed for easy looting access. The warlock knew that there shouldn’t have been anything of interest, but while the two hunters snuck off to the side of the building she found herself wandering inside. She could just imagine the walls standing full and tall, the dark wood shining with care of regular washing and filled with pictures of art, family photos and knickknacks collected from around the world. It was a skeleton of its former self, yet it still held so much wonder and mystery inside its former majestic walls. She imagined tall spotless glass where windows should have been, looking out onto well kept lawn and flower beds. It was then she saw the brilliant color.  Climbing up one wall were stems riddled with thorns, but the blooms were made of what she could only assume was twilight’s kiss. The roses were awash with pinks, purples, blues and slight kisses of orange, from a distance she thought they held pieces of starlight in the petals, tiny flecks of white that reminded her of stars. When she came close, she was surprised by two hands holding out long stemmed roses toward her. Crow and Diana had gathered several of the roses and made bundles with the grass ropes, but held two singular roses out toward her with smiles. 

#Crimson Days isn't Dead #Crimson Days 2021 #CrimsonDays2021 #diana the hunter #Diana-3 #Destiny 2 Crow #Crow Guardian

[kingsombraisbestvillain]

A Chance at Peace Part 4

The group could only stare at the dark king as he gave them an unnerving smile. No one dared make a move as the king’s eyes swept over them. The guards around them were tense, all readying their weapons as they waited for the king to make a move. Suddenly the ponies jumped as the ramp to Sombra’s ship retracted and closed. Sombra chuckled at their fright. 

“Please don’t try to enter my vessel, it will only result in unnecessary harm.” Sombra spoke aloud, taking a glance at the guards who frowned at the king. He turned his head back to the group. His eyes widened when he spotted Spike and his new pair of wings. The drake gulped in fear as the king stared him down. His eyes narrowed as his smirk turned into a snarl.

“So, the welp has wings? Wonderful.” Sombra spoke, venom dripping from his voice. Twilight took a step between them. Her wings flared in a protective notion.

“What is that thing?” Applejack said, trying to ease the tension, Sombra’s ear perked at her voice and turned to her.

“That is a personal invention of mine, my personal transportation ship to allow me to fly across the land with ease.” Sombra answered, taking his gaze off the small dragon. “A definite upgrade from air balloons, and no I will not let you study it.” Sombra said, his eyes turning to Twilight. “I wasn’t going to-” Twilight began, before Sombra cut her off. “Please, I’ve studied each and everyone of you. I know your habits, your quirks, your every tendencies. I know you’re just begging to tear my vessel apart and for personal study.” Sombra said, taking a step forward, the ponies tensed as he moved closer. “I’m not in the mood to indulge your need for study. I don’t like my time wasted.” Sombra said looking down at the mare. Rainbow growled and prepared to jump at the stallion when Luna extended a wing out between them. “Then let us not waste any more time then.” Luna said, staring Sombra in the eye. The two stared each other down, neither making a move. 

“By all means lead the way.” Sombra responded. Luna narrowed her eyes till she turned and trotted toward the castle. The elements moved back in worry as the two passed them. Quickly the girls trotted after them along with a few guards. No one said a word as they made their way to the castle. Sombra meanwhile took the time to look about the area. “Ahh so this heart of Equestria. The white city of Canterlot.” Sombra bemused to himself. 

“Yeah be sure to get an eyeful, I doubt you’ll ever see it again.” Rainbow commented as they walked. 

“Hmm perhaps. Still it’s a lovely place, the architecture is unique and grand.” Sombra said not bothering to fall into Rainbow’s goading. “Though I must wonder, where are the decorations?” Sombra asked aloud, the mane six’s eyes widened at what he was implying. “Surely the city knows tonight is Nightmare Night?” Luna came to a stop as the group stood in front of one of the palace’s entrances. She made no move to answer the King. 

“It’s just that, with such a big holiday, I’d think that ponies would be celebrating! It only comes once a year after all.” Sombra teased as he glanced toward the lunar alicorn. “Oh dear, could it be that they were all too scared of my arrival to bother to prepare for the holiday?” Sombra asked, Luna remained silent however her wings shifted in unease. Feathers ruffling in annoyance. “I didn’t think my return would have such an effect on the populace. Such a shame too, a holiday in celebration of you Luna. About your turn to darkness and near usurpation of the throne.” The mane six glared at the king as his words cut through Luna’s skin. 

“We deemed it necessary to have the ponies prioritize their safety rather than prepare for the festivities.” Luna responded not turning to face the King. “Who in their right minds would host a party while a monster bangs at their door?” Pinkie slowly raised her hoof before AJ nudged her. 

“Who indeed.” Sombra responded. “At least they had a good reason to, it's not like they wouldn’t celebrate it under normal circumstances. Then again, I haven’t heard Canterlot to be the ‘nightly’ kind of city.” Sombra responded, Luna snorted in annoyance before continuing onward. After that the King remained quiet for the rest of the walk through the castle. Sombra took the opportunity to scan everything along the way. Memorizing every corridor, every window, every guard post. He would never get a chance like this again. Once they trotted through the ‘Hall of History’ his eyes widened as he looked across each stained glass window. He came to a stop when he saw the window depicting his defeat. The king gave a low growl unnerving the group. His eyes started to turn green as purple smoke started to pour out of them. 

“If you’re done staring at the window, the meeting room is right this way.” Luna said snapping the king from his trance. Sombra composed himself before he trotted toward the door. Once he entered he was greeted by the glare of Celestia. Her glare gave him no mercy as she sat on her solar throne. Sombra met her glare with a neutral look. He glanced about the room, no guards were in sight, no traps or magic runes ready to activate and ensnare him. Only a single unicorn who stood at the base of the throne, Starlight Glimmer.

“I see you kept your word. Seems you ponies are capable of understanding.” Sombra bemused as the group gathered in front of him. Luna flew up next to her sister and sat on her lunar throne. The mane six stood ready between him and the princesses. Spike wisely decided to place himself closer to the princesses. Starlight took a breath and stepped forward. 

“Um hello. My name is-”

“Starlight Glimmer, graduated student of Twilight Sparkle. Student Councilor for the school of friendship, defeater of Queen Chrysalis, and former leader of the Equalist movement.” Sombra answered for her, startling her and making the princesses eyes narrow. “As I’ve told your allies I’ve studied each and everyone of you extensively. I don’t overlook any threats to me unlike some foolish insects.” Sombra explained. 

“Ah...well okay then.” Starlight said, she shook her head as she addressed the king. “Well since I am the only one here who you’ve never directly interacted with I will act as the mediator for these negotiations.” Sombra raised an eyebrow at her statement. 

“So you’ve all truly taken my request seriously. Or am I wrong to assume this isn’t just hearing for me before you blast me away with the elements of harmony?” Sombra stated looking back at the princesses. 

“Yes as you can clearly see, the bearers have not brought the elements with them. We have agreed to your terms.” Luna explained. 

“For now.” Sombra thought. 

“Now that we’ve shown our good faith we shall begin.” Starlight said, her horn lit up as she conjured up a list. “Our demands are as follows, the safe return of all kidnapped citizens of Equestria and any other prisoners you have captured in your campaign against Equestria.” Starlight said, she looked up to the king. Sombra simply motioned for her to continue. “The surrender of all stolen artifacts, tomes, books, and scrolls that you have within your possession, and the dismantling of the Ethereal Fortress. Finally swearing that you will never make an attempt to conquer Equestria or the Crystal Empire.” Starlight said. Sombra looked between her and the ponies behind her. They all gave mixed looks, suspicion, fear, anger, unease, distrust and hatred. 

“Hmph, I expected as much from you Celestia.” Sombra said looking up at the solar alicorn. “Keeping all that knowledge and ancient items for yourself and the destruction of any power that would threaten your so-called ‘harmony’. So you haven’t changed a bit at all these last millennia.” 

“Hey you watch your tongue ‘King’ Sombra!” Rainbow shouted as she got into a pouncing position. 

“Like I care for your opinion. Now here are my demands.” Sombra said, ignoring the angry pegasus. “I ‘King Sombra’ shall no longer be hunted by Equestria or any of her allies.” Sombra began. “In exchange I shall not lay siege to the lands of Equestria. I will also be left to my devices and not monitored after I have left these lands.” “Now just one second here! You can’t expect us too-” Rarity interrupted but was shut down by the king’s glare. 

“I did not interrupt Ms. Glimmer when she listed off your demands for peace out of respect. I expect the same treatment, otherwise I shall take my leave.” Sombra threatened, Rarity looked to Twilight for aid. Twilight sighed and motioned for Rarity to save face. 

“Hmph. Very well, I apologize for my interruption Sombra.” Rarity said with a hint of anger in her voice. 

“That’s ‘King Sombra’ to you.” Sombra corrected, Rarity gritted her teeth but held her tongue. Applejack placed a hoof on her friend’s shoulder in comfort. “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. I will not be spied upon after I have left Equestria’s borders. I will also keep all of the artifacts and ancient tomes I have collected, nor will I dismantle my castle.” Sombra stated, Luna prepared to interject when Sombra continued. “It is only fair I keep them, especially when you ponies have a reality warping demi god on your side. Isn’t that right Discord?” Sombra stated looking around the room. The ponies eyes widened in alarm at Sombra’s guess. 

“Oh fine, be a party pooper why don’t you.” Discord’s voice echoed in the throne room. The world distorted as it was pulled back like a curtain with Discord stepping out with popcorn in his claws. “It was getting boring anyway.” Discord said closing the ‘curtain’ behind him. 

“How on earth did you know he was here?!” Twilight demanded.

“I’d spent months chaos proofing my castle so this fool couldn’t transform it into a giant desert with the snap of his claws.” Sombra explained. “I’ve long since learned how to recognize when chaos magic is about, and he radiates it like the sun.” Sombra said with a smirk. 

“Tis, true I’m afraid.” Discord said as he put a paw to his forehead and leaned back in dramatic fashion. “I simply cannot hide the raw beauty that is my chaos.” Discord said in a mock tone, a mirror appeared next to him reflecting him, before shattering into butterflies.

“Understatement of the century.” Spike muttered, Discord rotated his head 180 degrees and blew a raspberry toward the drake. 

“As well I find it hypocritical that I am not allowed to keep those items when Celestia and Luna have hoarded knowledge for centuries all for themselves.” Sombra explained. 

“We have had good reason for that! We do not use that which we have gained to further our own power or cause mayhem and destruction!” Luna retorted. 

“Clearly not, but then again you don’t seem to have a problem taking that which doesn’t belong to you!” Sombra stomped. The elements, Starlight, and Spike gasped in shock at his statement. “Or am I wrong, Celestia?” The ponies turned to their leader who had remained silent throughout the negotiations.  

“How dare you insinuate my sister would take that which doesn’t belong to her?!” Luna shouted, her wings flared. Sombra chuckled at her outburst.

“Still keeping secrets, Celestia? Even from your sister? Then again you did lie to the entire world of her existence! Making Luna out to be a foal’s tale, rather than live up to your own miss deeds!” Sombra accused. 

“You dare!?” Luna said her horn glowing as she prepared to blast the stallion on the spot. “Luna that is enough!” Celestia said, raising her voice at last, making her sister halt her attack. “We’re here to negotiate peace, not risk more war!” She spoke standing up. Luna looked to her sister in disbelief. 

“Still playing second fiddle to the so called ‘sun goddess’ I see.” Sombra spoke, before Celestia could retort he continued. “Which leads me to my two final demands!” Sombra spoke his voice growing louder demanding the rooms undivided attention. “The truth of pony kinds crimes against the world and the removal of Princess Luna and Celestia from the throne!” Sombra declared, his voice sending a wave of force too all in attendance. “Effective immediately! Only then will I return the ponies I’ve captured!”

#Mlp #King Sombra #A chance at peace #Part 4 #Event #story

[rueitae]

Bleeding Out

Read my whumptober collection on Ao3

vampire au!

~~~~~

There is a knock on the door just as Lance finishes polishing the last of the silverware. He calmly puts the spoon in its proper place, in a wooden box between the box of knives and the box of forks. His nose twitches in distaste, surely it wouldn’t be difficult to combine both spoons and forks into the same utensil, then he’d be done with dishes in half the time.

The knock is more insistent the longer he tries to ignore it.

He growls in annoyance. Any other day and he would ignore it. But Pidge hasn’t eaten today and needs her sleep. It’s his job as her butler to make sure her sleep is restful and everything around the house it taken care of before she wakes. 

He straightens his bowtie, and in the interest of letting Pidge sleep, walks much faster than any respectable butler should have to when the knocking only gets louder and more consistent. The villagers have known him for nearly two years now! They know it takes forever to get anywhere in this castle!

As much as he wants to tell them off, it won’t do Pidge any good for him to upset a visitor when he answers the door on her behalf. She needs less attention, not more. 

Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, Lance grabs hold of the twin ring door knobs and pulls.

As he takes a step back and looks up, his eyes threaten to bug out. It seems as though the entire village is there, people lined up with torches all the way across the drawbridge, making a river of fire in this twilight hour. At the front, Mayor Rosen, torch shaking in his hand despite the terrible scowl on his face. Far more concerning to Lance, is at the mayor’s right hand, a darkly clothed man who hides his face behind a mask and a wide brimmed hat. 

Lance raises an eyebrow. “Can I… help you?” he begins, suddenly having a terrible feeling he knows why they’re here. The situation will call on every charm he has. “Supper was hours ago, and I’m afraid I didn’t cook enough for everyone.”

“No need for niceties, young man,” Rosen says with varying pitch. “You’re safe now, we’re only here for the vampire.”

Oh. It takes all of Lance’s willpower not to wince. This is exactly what he feared. He’d warned Pidge something like this might happen! She’d even agreed with him! He kicks himself for allowing himself to get distracted by her tangent on electricity at the time. It was his job to keep her on task when they both knew she had a difficult time with that. 

Outwardly, Lance sighs dramatically. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he tells the mayor. “The only people here are myself and my wife.”

The man in black hisses. “It’s too late to save this one,” he says in a raspy voice. “There’s no spell in his eye, he’s willingly in league with her.”

“If that is the only reason why you are here,” Lance interrupts before the mayor can protest. “Then I have nothing to offer you.” He bows, putting a hand on each door knob. He keeps his voice calm, but his heart races, unsure how much longer he can keep himself from a fight. “I bid you all a good night.”

He moves to close the door.

The man in black stops him.

Calloused hand grip the collar under his tie, and Lance grits his teeth.

“I will not leave until the vampire is turned to ash,” the man promises darkly. 

A burning flame ignites in his heart and Lance drops all pretense. “Don’t you touch her,” he utters, each syllable dripping with anger. He drops a pen from his sleeve, a brilliant device Pidge made for him, and without needing to look flips it into a thin knife and stabs the man in the chest.

The vampire hunter’s eyes widen and Lance huffs, though he’s relieved that once again he’s been taken for granted. Easier to protect Pidge that way when he can surprise an assailant, something he’d learned from her. 

But the surprise doesn’t last long. The hunter’s eyes shine with pity - for Lance. 

“May your soul find peace,” he says.

Suddenly Lance’s stomach feels tight and cold. His breath hitches and despite knowing, dreading what he’ll see, he looks down to see the sword run through him. 

His knees weaken. It can’t… he can’t stop here. Pidge is still asleep. If they get through him they’ll get to her. He wouldn’t be able to rest in peace if he allowed that to happen. 

So he flicks the switch on his pen as he falls to his knees. The knife elongates inside the hunter’s body, ripping through any tissue it came across. Lance smirks as the hunter chokes up blood, relaxing with the knowledge Pidge will be safe. 

Mayor Rosen backs up, trembling in fear. “We’re doomed! Run! Before the vampire kills us all!” 

In his haste, he drops his torch, setting ablaze the hallway carpet. Screams and shouts of panic from the crowd fill the air. Splashes count those who fall off the drawbridge into the moat below.

Without warning, the hunter draws his sword. Lance gasps and collapses to the floor, clutching the acute stinging sensation of his wound. On the other side of the growing flames, the hunter cackles.

“The vampire will know pain,” he says gleefully. “No longer will she have her precious food source. She will have to hunt, and then my brethren will corner her and uh--”

Lance sees only glowing green eyes and a dark shadow before the hunter’s throat is ripped out of him. 

When the hunter’s body falls into the fire, Pidge stands before him with the most terrified eyes that have settled back into their usual amber color. Blood rims her open mouth and drips from her fangs onto what has already been splattered over her white nightgown.

“Lance! H-hold on!” she cries, stumbling towards him in the most ungraceful way.

He forces a smile for her, dropping his head into her shoulder as she effortlessly scoops him into her arms. It’s so warm in here, and with each passing second Lance feels more and more like having a nap. “Aw Pidge, look at what you went and did. It’s going to take forever to get the stains out.”

Pidge inhales sharply, lips wobbling and eyes shining with tears. “You idiot,” she says, though he knows she doesn’t really mean it. “I’m going to get you healed, don’t you dare fall asleep.”

“Of course, Mistress,” he chuckles. The portraits along the wall move by when he looks past Pidge’s face, the only indication she’s carrying him. He can’t feel much anymore. 

She glares at him. “This is no time to be cute, Lance.” The glare morphs quickly back to frightened eyes. “You’re… your stomach is… the smell of your blood is overwhelming.”

“I thought--” he coughs, something soft and liquidy caught in his throat, “som’tin delisc--”

He blinks. 

Softness envelops his world. Pidge is sitting over him, breathing heavily and looking terrified. Their location has changed - he knows her bedroom better than any in the house. The four-post bed is shrouded in the light purple linens and the fluffy white sheets pool up around him. Pidge’s most precious items, the picture of her family and her brother’s glasses lay untampered with on the dresser through the parted drapes and across the room. The open window brings the smell of burning wood and fibers from below - and a hint of metal? Perhaps the vases are melting. 

“Lance?”

Pidge’s voice is so soft he almost can’t believe it’s her. His brow furrows as he realizes he doesn’t feel pain from his wound he’s just… 

Just tired. 

His head rolls to the side, eyes fixed on the woman whom he’d befriended on a whim and she’d in turn whisked him away on an adventure, and whom he now gladly calls his wife.

She a vampire and he a human notwithstanding. 

Pidge examines him with concern, just as she would right before attempting a carefully prepared experiment. “How are you feeling?” she asks quietly, almost timidly. 

“I feel like I was swept down the river and spit out by a waterfall,” he says with a moan. 

Pidge takes a trembling hand and holds his cheek. Lance leans into the gentle warmth, humming in contentment. “G-good. I—“ she bites her lip, and stares at him. “You’ll need time to recover, but I think we should leave as soon as possible.”

Lance grins despite himself. “Finally going to introduce me to your parents?”

She glares at him, though Lance is glad to see an expression other than worry. 

“The villagers will return with a more dangerous foe if we do not,” she clarifies. “The fire will burn all evidence we were here. I’ve warded the room, we’ll be safe here we’re ready to leave.”

Restlessness stirs in his heart. This place has everything that makes Pidge happy - her lab, seclusion, and view of the most gorgeous sunsets on partially cloudy evenings. “I will protect you, Pidge,” he says seriously. “That’s why you let me stay.”

Pidge shakes her head. “That’s not necessary.”

“We may be married, but I am still your tool, to use however you see fit,” he recites the words he gave her on their wedding day - just the two of them and a handful of friends and family.

“You’re not-- that’s a cover, you know that.” She leans down, and the gentle kiss she places on his forehead makes him smile, feeling more relaxed than he has in ages. “You’re my husband first,” her voice wavers, “and it’s my job to protect you too.” 

Lance smirks. “And I’m thankful every single day that I’m with you. Give me a few days rest and my blood will have replenished itself and you can have yourself a little snack.” In more ways than one, he winks and flashes her his most suggestive grin. 

Finally, to Lance’s relief, Pidge snorts. Though her eyes still shine with tears, he’s at least got a smile out of her. “You are such a child,” she teases.

Lance rolls his eyes, laughing himself. Of course a vampire as old as she would consider a mortal like him a child. “I’ll have you know I haven’t been a child for nearly a decade now.”

“An infant compared to the hundreds of years I’ve existed,” Pidge chuckles, childishly flopping next to him on the bed. Leaning her forehead into his shoulder, she sighs. “I’m so relieved that you're okay. You really scared me.”

He places a kiss at the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises. “Rest. Healing took a lot out of you.”

A light snore fills the void between them and Lance lets himself melt into the bed, happy and relaxed. 

She’s right, they will probably have to leave, as much as he hates it. But it would simply be the new chapter in their adventure together and right now, he’ll soak in this moment of peace.

#plance #whumptober2019 #no.23 #bleeding out #pidgance #voltron legendary defender #rueitae #vld pidge #vld lance #vampire au #blood #gore #vampire pidge

[nyr-nra]

Red Thirst : CH18

Meeting The Family

Jiyu had called Synda and asked for some money to buy new dresses for her and Jie. Synda happily agreed. She bought herself a new blue dress while Jie chose a white one. They were more elegant and expensive than the one the landlady took from her.

On the day of the gathering, Kiwa came by himself to pick up the sisters. He froze in the doorway when she opened the door.

“You are breathtaking,” he said.

He looked dashing himself. A well tailored black suit, maroon tie. Now he looked like the son of one of the wealthiest men in Ku’ve, but he seemed indifferent about all the events. Actually no one was. She hadn’t seen Jie smile since yesterday. She wasn’t too thrilled about the beautiful dress she bought for herself.

Who would be excited? They had no other choice. That’s the worst feeling of all.

They left her apartment at twilight. Jie sat alone behind them. Kiwa got behind the wheel. Before they started moving, Kiwa turned to Jie.

“I’ll say what my mother said the other day; nothing has changed in your life, if anything it only gets better. You are going to a place where no one would judge you, or try to harm you.”

Jie bobbed her head. “Thanks.”

Her nervousness receded a little, Jiyu could see. They set off.

If the Magistrate HQ was the heart of the Ku’ve, The Crown Hotel was the kidney. Accept that there was only one Crown. The gate stood magnificent. Jiyu had passed the gate several times in the past but never stopped to gawk at the gate. The guard there would shoo them away. Now they were entering the gate.

Jie was staring out the window in the back of the car.

The compound of the The Crown Hotel was the largest in the Ku’ve, almost twice that of the Magistrate HQ, Jiyu had read somewhere. Once inside, Kiwa slowed down the car, sensibly, allowing the two sisters to admire the garden on either side of the stoned path. Myriad light poles had been lit among the flowers and the well maintained hedges, enabling them to see all sorts of the colors as if it was daytime. 

Kiwa rounded the car around the fountain. At the centre of the fountain was a golden statue of a knight, thrusting his word into the sky.

It was gorgeous. She couldn’t take her eyes off.

“It’s Zagerin Knight of the 13th century.”

A historian would know that, and would be mesmerised more than it was doing to her now.

“Zagerin Knight!” Jie said from behind, “The company of the golden knights?”

“Actually, there was only one Golden Knight, but yes. They are also called the Company of the Golden Knight, because the Golden Knight was the commander.”

Jie mouthed the word, wow. But she retreated to silence again.

“What's so special about them?”

“They were the greatest warriors in history. Girls and women of the time would die for them.”

“Who did they fight?” Jiyu asked. “N’ra armies?”

“No. They were N’ra warriors. This was still when Akerin was part of N’ra Empire. They liberated Akerin only in 15th century. It’s that the Zagerin Knight were hailed from Ku’ve. They fought Creatures, too strong for humans. Even the real N’rian soldier were afraid of them.”

“Wow,” Jiyu said. “So, your father is also a historian like you? The statue must’ve cost a fortune.”

“Oh, it’s not real gold. The real ones are at home, along with the real antics. Father wants to let the world know Aisags are the descendant of the Zagerin Knights.”

“What!” Jie blurted out again.

“Didn’t I tell you this before?” Kiwa said.

“Nooo,” Jie said.

Jiyu shook her head. 

They stopped in front of the hotel. A valet in a deep red uniform came to assist them. 

Jiyu craned her neck up to see the top of the building where the large symbol of a golden Crown sat. It somehow glowed in the darkening evening background.

“That’s pure gold,” Kiwa said. “The outside.”

No way.

The building itself was grand. It had a mixture of modern and classic design. It was colored white, and seemed to collect all the lights from the poles in the garden and reflected it back. The steps spread thirty-percent of the building in the front. Jiyu held her sister's hand when they climbed toward the entrance.

The entrance door was wide and tall. The doorman held them and opened them.

Once stepped in, the hum of the outside vanished, and was replaced by the sounds of quiet murmurs and sounds of footsteps on the marble floor.

About a dozen people in the lobby, some talking to each other in a corner, some were sitting in one of the ornate chairs by the wall, some were in the reception desk. When one of the reception ladies saw Kiwa, she excused herself, left the desk and came over.

“Good evening, Sir Kiwa,” she said, in a well trained and friendly voice. “Mr Aisag had asked me to bring you directly to him. Please come this way.”

They followed her.

They took one of the elevators on the right, just for the four of them. The receptionist didn’t press any of the buttons on the panel. Kiwa reached into his suit, and brought out a golden key, and handed it to her. She put the key in the hole below the numbers, twisted it. The mechanical floor number indicator above the door switched from 0 to a symbol of a red wine glass. The elevator rose slowly.

In the silence it went on forever. Jiyu huddled with Jie behind Kiwa. He turned once to give them an insurance smile. 

The elevator slowed down to a stop. A chime and the door splitted and they slid leisurely away revealing an enormous hall. Jiyu dropped her jaw. So did Jie. Their feet moved forward on their own. They stepped onto the hall. The lady from the reception stayed behind. “Have a nice day to you all,” she was saying but Jiyu’s full attention was already in the hall.

Dashin men in expensive suits, gorgeous women in colorful dresses filled the hall. Lovely couple walked with a glass of red in their hands. Families around tables, with their adorable boys and girls. 

Boys and girls!

A big bright chandelier hung at the centre, along with it and the dozens white bulbs on each side lit the hall which made Jiyu forget it wasn’t daytime. Clean wall hangings depicting beautiful scenery adored the walls.

Kiwa joined them.

“What do you think, Jie?”  Kiwa asked.

“It’s amazing,” she mumbled, eyes sweeping the hall inches by inches. “Are they all leeches?”

“Most of them are. Come, let me take you to my mother.”

Kiwa avoided the centre and stayed near the right wall and they made their way through the clumps of people, tables and floor vases. They still attracted some eyes. Kiwa received some greetings, but smiled and politely greeted them back, but never slowed down to chat.

They reached a door.

“Is my mother in?” Kiwa asked the man outside as he barely opened his mouth.

“Good e-evening sir. Yes, Madam is inside.” 

He pushed the door open for them. “Thank you,” Kiwa said, and gestured to the sisters to follow him inside.

A relatively quieter room. Jiyu spotted Lady Iris immediately on the couch. A bunch of women and girls surrounded her. Mr. Lauf, the big bodyguard of Lady Iris, was standing behind them by the wall, near another door.

“Mother.”

Everyone in the room looked in their direction. Everyone, save for Mr. Laug, were adorned with sparkling jewelry around the ears, necks, and arms. Jiyu felt naked standing there. But Jie held her chin high as she scanned each and everyone in the room.

Lady Iris excused herself and walked over, a young girl wa tailing behind her. She looked about the same age as Kiwa, maybe a little older.

“Are you two lovely,” Lady Iris said.

“Good evening, Lady Iris,” Jiyu and Jie dipped their heads. 

“This is Lucile,” Lady Iris said. “One of the big sisters. Lucile, Jiyu and Jie.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lucile said. Her voice was meek and soft.

She wore a pink dress. Unlike other girls in the room, she wore a small silver necklace and tiny earrings.  Unlike her mother, her hair was golden. She looked super cute.

“Nice to meet you too,” Jie said.

Luciled smiled.

“Mother, father wants to see me. Can you keep them company and do the paperwork without me.”

“Of course. We don’t need you. Do we Jie?”

“Nope.” Jie looked up at Kiwa and grinned. 

This was the first time Jiyu saw her little sister smile. Every tad of nervousness and fear had evaporated from her. Unlike Jiyu, she no longer looked out of place. 

“Father is in room eleven.” Lucile said to Kiwa.

“Thanks, sister.” he faced Jiyu, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Get yourself comfortable. Jie, anything you want, Lucile will help you.”

“Okay,” Jie said.

Kiwa left them.

“Come,” Lady Iris said, and led them out of the room through the door, Mr. Laug had been guarding.

“Good evening, Misses,” he said, with a dip of head.

Nice man.

They passed two rooms filled with people before they stopped before an iron door. On the way, Lucile excused herself and left them. Lady Iris used a big iron key to open it. A dimly lit room, devoid of all sorts of decoration and furnishers unlike the rooms they just passed. In the centre was a plushed chair with a rectangular hole in the headrest.

There were some wooden chairs by the wall as well. They sat down on it. 

“I want you two to understand,” Lady Iris said, “how important the secrecy of the Coven is. Once you take the oath there is no going back. The rule is simple, don’t tell anyone about the coven. If you fail to uphold the rule the Coven might resort to harsh measures to compensate for the damage.” 

She paused. Jiyu was getting warmer hearing this. Jie was bobbing her head up and down.

Lady Iris continued. “The last person who tried to disclose the secret is now in the darkest cell of the Rachi Asylum, his memory wiped out. He couldn’t even remember his own daughter, who lived in the next cell along with the wife.”

Lady Iris smiled. Her gaze on Jiyu. But Jiyu saw no warmth, felt no comfort this time. It was more a warning. It would be her who would live in the adjacent cell, if Jie break the rule. The message was clear. That’s the real reason why she was here. She had to be a member of the coven. An insurance.

“Oath?” Jie said.

“You’ll do that after you pay the fee.”

Jiyu’s heart leaped. Her throat froze.

“But we-we don’t have a-any money,” Jie said.

“No no no. Did Kiwa tell you nothing? It’s not money.”

Lucile came back. A man tagged along with her.

“Oh Amma. Perfect timing. You must’ve done with the other. Sorry, I forgot to tell my son to fetch them early. She is Jie, the new member and Jiyu is her big sister. Jiyu, Jie, this is Amma. You will see him a lot after today.”

Jiyu and Jie stood, forced smiles and dipped their heads

“The toast is about to be raised,” Amma said. “Let’s finish this quickly.”

Finish what?

“Jie climb on the chair,” Lady Iris said, gesturing to the plushed chair in the centre of the room. 

Jie obeyed without question. She seemed to have some idea what was going on, but Jiyu was still in the dark.

Amma went behind the chair, opened the locker behind it and began to take out stuff; small glass bottle, cotton, big syringe with needle thrice the length of that of normal ones. 

“Now, remember the rule. Maintain the secrecy,” Lady Iris said. “The fee is Jie’s spinal fluid. Amma will harvest a small amount for now, for the ritual, and every week after that. This is one of those rule where you don’t ask questions. The less you know, the better.”

“Okay,” Jiyu said. “Would it have any side effects on Jie? Taking out the fluid?”

“No dear,” Lady Iris said.

She didn’t say anything more.

“Shall we?” she said to Amma instead. 

Amma went on to open the bottle, sucked the liquid inside with the cotton, and spread the liquid on Jie’s back. Lucky, she was wearing a backless dress, otherwise she would have to remove her entire dress. Jiyu stood close to her sister, and held her hand. Amma was now attaching the long syringe to a metal arm behind the chair. He turned on a switch and the arm moved, the needle disappeared inside Jie’s back.

She twisted her face for a brief second.

After paying the fee, they retracted their way back to the main hall. Lady Iris leading the way. Lucile walked behind them, along with Mr. Laug.

“Do you feel alright?” she had asked Jie.

“No,” Jie said. “Little light headed but it's fine.”

Now, they joined the crowd in the hall, now walking toward the far end of the hall, where there was a low stage. Jiyu saw Kiwa standing beside a tall, strong man. No one needed to tell her who the man was. Arnam Aisag. Kiwa’s father. The leader of the Red Coven. Closer, he looked older than she had anticipated. Long golen hair that touched his broad shoulders. He must be in his sixties but with still strong jaws like that of a warrior.

Descendant of a knight. The gene was still with him.

He smiled as they approaced. He held out his hand for his wife, and then for Jiyu and Jie as well.

“Lovely girls,” Arnam Aisag said. “Welcome to the family.”

Jiyu was sure which family he was talking about, the Coven or the Aisag. Maybe both. 

“Nice to meet … you,” Jie said, dipping her head in reverent.

Jiyu said and did the same.

“Hi, I’m the biggest sister, Hira.” She was tall and thin and beautiful. Her golden dress matched her golden curls. Among the Aisag she radianted the most. “Kiwa wasn’t kidding when he said about your beauty. What a pair. Finally a contender, don’t you think Lucile.” Lucile simply beamed a smile and shrugged. “She doesn’t talk much. Mother said, I do that on her behalf. but I don’t see that’s true. Did Kiwa ever say how we tease him everyday and drove him out of the house. Haha. That’s why he live alone. Poor baby. Can you belive that? He could barely stand two mild sisters, and is going to be carry on father’s legacy. Between you and me, I’ll make a better leader. But they say I’m a girl.” she said the last bits in a whisper to Jie. “I can hold a rifle but Kiwa couldn’t even grab blade…”

Another man with golden hair just like Mr. Aisag came on the stage. Shorter and less comely, a woman and two little girls in pretty dress accompaning him.

“We’ll talk later,” Hira whispered to Jie, who had been bobbing her head. She head returned to usual self, Jiyu could tell.

“Uncle Zal,” Kiwa said. “Aunt, Lily… Naiyo, this is Jie and Jiyu.”

“Oh the new member,” Zal said. He dipped his head to Jie. “Welcome to the Coven.”

His wife and daughters did the same. Naiyo must be Kiwa’s age, or older, but Lily looked about Jie’s age. Only she had inherited her father’s golden hair. She wore a big smile and came to Jie. “You look nervous. Don’t be. I’m a leech too. We could be friend.”

“I l-like yo-your hair,” Jie said. “It’s cute on you.”

“I like you dress,” Lily said. “You are pretty too.”

Kiwa came closer to Jiyu.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. You didn’t say anything about the fee?” she whispered.

“You know, I could. The rule.”

“You are right.”

A week ago, Jiyu had a simply life with a simple friend and a lovely sister. Now she was surrounded by leeches and their family, wearing expensive dress and shoes. Life was changing fast. For better or worse, it’s still early to tell.

Arnam Aisag stood in front of the family, holding high a silver chalice, studded with small colored gems.

“Good evening family.”

The hall went huss. Every eyes turned to him. 

“It’s a new moon for us.”

Rustling among the crowd. A girl came forward flanked by a man and woman, her parent. They stood in front of everyone, two metres away from the stage. Two more girls, one looked over seventeen and a young boy who looked not more than twelve joined the first girls with their parents. The boy only had his mother by his side. The last to join them was a man in his early twenties. He was alone. They circled the stage.

Lady Iris told Jiyu and Jie to join them. They took the spot on the far right.

Hira took a silver tray with chalices and distributed them among the new member. Their parents and Jiyu were given standard wine glass with white wine in it.

“When my great great grandfather,” Arnam Aisag said, “Aisagi himself saw leeches being maltreated, he knew something needed to be done. Thus the Coven was born. We protect each other,” Arnam Aisag said. “Let’s welcome the new ones to the family.”

Just like everyone else in the hall Jiyu raised her glass and drank, praying for good days ahead.

#red thirst

[galacticgarbagedump-blog]

David x Reader: You Remind Me of Someone (Camp Camp)

It had been two years, and yet you were still having that same damn dream. The dream where you woke up sobbing, unable to remember what is was about, but clearly remembering that sense of loss that made your eyes pour and your heart clench. Your brother Roan had told you that it was perfectly normal, and that it was linked to something called a soulmate. He had explained that the dreams wouldn’t stop until you found your special other, and while he was excited that it meant you’d find them soon, to you it was only stressful and overbearing. You could live without the hole in your chest that ghosted your thoughts every morning and made you not want to fall asleep at night.

Your brother had suggested that, since summer was coming up pretty soon, you should take up that open job opportunity as a camp counselor to help get your mind off of it. After a bit of persuasion, you had hesitantly agreed.

So now here you were, at Camp Campbell, already surrounded by children who were asking for your name and who you were. One of them asked if you were an insane cultist “like the last guy”, which concerned you for a brief moment, until you were pulled away from them by a seemingly very stressed and angry new co-counselor. “Ignore them, they have no idea what they’re saying. Anyways, welcome to Camp Campbell, I’m Gwen.” You smiled nervously and shook her hand gently. “Y/N, Y/N L/N. It’s nice to meet you, Gwen. I’m happy to be working here, and I promise I’ll be a valuable asset to the camp.” She chuckled and nodded in approval. “I like you already, Y/N. David should be here soon, I think he’s talking with Max about how dangerous glass bottles are or whatever. I have to take the kids in for lunch, just stay here for a second while I go get David to show you around.”

You nodded, obediently staying in place while she walked off with the kids in tow, before having something slam into you, its weight keeping you on the ground. At first you had thought it might be a bear, and you were ready to scream your lungs out, however, immediate apologies spilled from said “bear” before you could even open your mouth. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going at all!” He helped you up, and what with his camp getup, you could only assume that this was the David guy Gwen was talking about, and the kid behind him must’ve been Max. “Um, it’s okay... I’m Y/N? The uh... new counselor?” It came out as more of a question than a statement due to your confusion after just being trampled (and also a little bit because he was kinda really cute actually). 

“Oh my god, David, you hired another one!? Did you at least make sure this one wasn’t a bat shit crazy cult leader who believes in whatever the fuck a Zeemuug is!?” Okay you felt like there was a story behind that, though you really didn’t know if you wanted to ask. David scoffed, glancing down at the kid in a disappointed manner. “Max! Don’t be so rude to our new counselor! You and I both know we needed another helping hand here at Camp Campbell.” Max groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know, you don’t always have to focus on the least fucking important parts of everyone’s sentences all the damn time.” David only grinned, ruffling Max’s hair as the ten year old let out some angry kid noises. “Language!”

You lifted your pointer finger. “Um, if it helps, I’m not a cult leader. I got this job so that I could spend some time outside for a while, maybe help some kids, I dunno...” Max clicked his tongue. “What, do you live with your fucking parents or something?” You shook our head. “No, I live alone, but I’ve been having some of those wicked soulmate dream-nightmare things. Just needed to think on it.”  The boy rolled his eyes, before pausing and narrowing them. “Wait... David, didn’t you say you were going through that same sort of shit?” David nodded, a quizzical look on his features. “Yes, but it probably has nothing to do with-” Max walked towards the mess hall, leaving you two behind to sit in an awkward silence. You kind of felt like that was his plan; making the two of you feel awkward as hell so that you’d be uncomfortable 100% of the time. Little did he know, you already felt that way towards everyone. All the time. Hah.

David cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “W-well, that’s Max for you! I promise he gets more... um... actually he’s always like that, but I swear he’s a good kid.” You snorted, chuckling quietly. “He’s a little shit. But I’m sure he just needs a little guidance.” David sighed in content, smiling softly. “Exactly! How would you like for me to take you on a tour of the camp so that you know where everything is?” You nodded and grinned at the taller male. “Sounds like a plan.”

-*-*-*-

After walking around the campus for an admittedly longer time than you’d like, and being forced to sing campfire songs at 8pm after practically fighting a bunch of children just to get them to shut the fuck up and sit on the damn logs, you were exhausted. “Hey, David, do you happen to know where I’ll be sleeping?” He paused for a moment, before opening his mouth and then closing it again, looking away. “Well, um, since we don’t have any extra beds,, and since Gwen refuses to move her Twilight collection off of my couch since she doesn’t have her own dresser anymore, you’ll have to sleep in my cabin. Gwen already locked hers for the night.” You shrugged, not really seeing a problem with it. The guy had proved to be way too fucking innocent and morally stricken to try anything to you, and you were 20 years old, you could handle yourself. “Okay. Would you mind us heading back now? All of the kids are back at their tents, so..” “Oh of course!” He seemed relieved that you hadn’t made a big deal about having to sleep in the same bed as him. After changing into your pajamas and laying down, you found that a mattress meant for one person was just that. You two were practically spooning just to be comfortable, and David had no idea where to put his arms. You were too tired to deal with awkward situations at this point, so you gently placed his right arm around your waist and let his other rest beneath your head. “O-oh...” His voice was shaky and soft as you yawned to yourself. “Goodnight David.” He swallowed thickly, patting your hip in a nervous manner. “Good- Goodnight, Y/N.” 

-*-*-*-

The next morning, you had woken up with your head rested on David’s chest and his arms wrapped around you securely, gently holding you to him. He seemed so peaceful, you didn’t want to wake him by moving too much, so you stayed still, yawning quietly. That was the best sleep you had had in years.

Wait.

Wait.

That was the best sleep you had had in years. You had found your soulmate. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, your eyes widening as you stared blankly at David. It had to be him. You could feel it, the odd pull that seemed to connect your heart to his. You must have been staring for longer than you realized, because David’s eyes had opened and he was asking if you were okay. You gasped, grabbing his collar. “David!” He yelped, nervously eyeing the wild look on your face, as though you were ready to jump him. “Y.... Yes, Y/N?” You inhaled sharply, gripping his collar tighter, your knuckles turning white. “Did you sleep well!?” You had to prove it to yourself, because if his dreams didn’t stop, then you were fucked. His look of fear turned into one of confusion. “Um... yes? I did- HOLY SHIT!” His eyebrows shot up and he grabbed your shoulders, in the same shock that you were in. “You’re my....” He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. “You’re my soulmate.” You ended it for him, before your face completely lifted, tears springing to your eyes as you embraced him, laughing lightly. “David, David, you’re my soulmate! I found you. I finally found you.” He instantly returned your embrace, and you could feel his wide grin through your nightshirt. He held you tight, as though he never wanted to let go.

Bonus:

“Wow.” There was a sniffle from the door as Gwen wiped a tear from her sparkling eyes. “I was just making sure you guys didn’t bone in front of Edward Cullen, but this is great.” Max scoffed, holding a camera and glaring at you two. “Fuckin weirdos. You were supposed to have sex, not be sappy fucks! Whatever, I’ll get blackmail later.”

#camp camp #camp camp imagine #camp camp x reader #camp camp david #cc david #cc david imagine #camp camp david imagine #cc david x reader #camp camp david x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #kind of a lazy write but oh well #soulmate au

[things2mustdo]

In one of the most nauseating displays of overt racism ever seen in modern times, Jesse Williams, an overpaid actor who pretends to be a doctor on TV, spewed venomous bile which showed hatred towards his own mother as much as it debased an entire race while accepting a BET Humanitarian Award. It’s yet another chapter in the reality is stranger than fiction world of social engineering we have entered over the past several years. Here is an excerpt from his speech, which is loaded with race baiting and villainization.

We’ve been floating this country on credit for centuries, yo. And we’re done watching, and waiting while this invention called whiteness uses and abuses us. Burying black people out of sight and out of mind, while extracting our culture, our dollars, our entertainment like oil — black gold. Ghettoizing and demeaning our creations then stealing them. Gentrifying our genius and then trying us on like costumes before discarding our bodies like rinds of strange fruit. The thing is, though, the thing is, that just because we’re magic doesn’t mean we’re not real.

Williams also figuratively sent people who won’t agree with his ideals to the back of the bus.

If you have a critique for the resistance, for our resistance, then you better have an established record of critique of our oppression. If you have no interest, if you have no interest in equal rights for black people then do not make suggestions to those who do. Sit down.

The studio audience went wild. They loved it, as the speech clearly touched a nerve with them. But, it also touched a nerve with other people who were left aghast at its insinuations. Telling an entire race of people they’re an invention and don’t really exist is one thing. But how could Williams say that whiteness is an invention, denigrating his own Swedish mother? And with the knowledge he is half white himself? Does that mean blackness is also an invention? What does the rest of this diatribe even mean? Most of that paragraph seems rhetorical. Ask yourself a question. What if an overpaid white actor got up on stage at the White Entertainment Awards and said the following:

We’ve been floating this welfare state on credit for generations, and we’re done watching and waiting while this invention called blackness uses and abuses us.

I think the country and media would rightly be preparing for World War III after a comment like that. But Samuel L. Jackson lauded the hateful Williams speech as he accepted a Lifetime Achievement Award.

That brother is right and he’s true. Make sure you vote and take eight more people with you. We gotta fix this. Don’t get tricked like they did in London.

Making this entire fiasco even more unbelievable, Jackson told blacks to vote for an old white woman who is going to “fix” what 7 1/2 years of a black President couldn’t? What does he mean? Jackson’s comments capped off a bizarre turn of events at the awards show that raise more questions than answers.

Predictably, the Marxist media hailed the Williams hate speech as wonderful. The New York Times wrote How Jesse Williams Stole BET Awards With Speech on Racism. BET wrote Jesse Williams Spits Knowledge Like a Seasoned MC. CNN lauded the race hatred with a headline stating Jesse Williams’ speech stole the BET Awards. And USA Today rounds out the echo chamber with Jesse Williams takes racism to task in powerful BET Awards speech.

What kind of world are these media people living in writing headlines that praise a man who tells an entire race they don’t exist, and conjures up mental imagery of Evil White People and the Evil White Man rather than seeking unity? You can see why I left The Twilight Zone that is the mainstream media behind. Meantime, the media jumped all over Justin Timberlake for offering this timid rebuttal on Twitter.

Oh, you sweet soul. The more you realize that we are the same, the more we can have a conversation.

The knee-jerk reaction shouting Timberlake down and attacking him for daring to make a comment that calls for healing racial divisions shows us the real agenda of the puppet masters who control the media marionettes. There is a segment of society that is not into equality as much as getting their turn to oppress. This speech and the media reaction to it marks a worrisome shift in the narrative, one that has already become increasingly hostile to one group of people, singling them out as the enemy of every other race in the world.

Racial Bolshevism

Communist revolutions are often accompanied by atrocities such as genocide, which scapegoat certain groups as “oppressors”

The push to broad brush white people as villains must be seen for what it is as a socialist revolution proceeds through America and Europe. Speeches like these are intended to be intimidation and marginalization tactics, indicitive of a type of Racial Bolshevism that has developed within the current socialist revolution in America. I featured the idea of Racial Bolshevism last December with this commentary by Jack Borroughs, even before the Beyonce Black Panther Super Bowl, the targeting of Trump supporters by ethnic rioters, Black Lives Matter violence, and other racial pot stirring that has taken place in 2016.

That’s why contemporary Progressivism should really be called Racial Bolshevism.  The psycho-political profile is identical: whereas the original Bolsheviks believed that the Communist utopia could not be achieved without the elimination of the bourgeois class, the contemporary Racial Bolsheviks believe that the multi-cultural utopia cannot be achieved without the elimination of white people–especially white men.

That doesn’t mean that they’re *planning* to kill you. That’s not how mind control works. They think they’re just “seeking justice” for non-whites. But of course they will never define in concrete terms what “racial justice” actually is. It’s all kept tantalizingly abstract for a reason–namely, so that there is no end game, ever. That means that they can never stop. Every defeated injustice yields a new racial injustice on the horizon, which must then be defeated. Finally, the unacceptable injustice will be the very existence of white people.

After all, the only way to truly “stop white men” is to kill them. Right? Because if you don’t kill them, then they can always keep right on acting white, and doing white things, in that white way that you hate so much. But if you just kill them, then the problem of whiteness is permanently solved. And then the world will be saved! See how that works?

The Williams speech stripping an entire race’s humanity as he collected a “Humanitarian Award” marks the beginning of a new narrative that does exactly what this prescient statement warned us about—it makes the very existence of “whiteness” or white people an injustice that must be defeated. Already, the left is coming after white historical symbols—taking Jackson off the $20 bill is only their first volley. This speech marks the beginning of a new offense to debase your entire existence if you are of European descent. Could Black Lives Matter or a group like them be the new Khmer Rouge? Socialist revolutions are often accompanied by atrocities such as genocides. A quick refresher on the Khmer Rouge:

The organization is remembered especially for orchestrating the Cambodian genocide, which resulted from the enforcement of its social engineering policies. Arbitrary executions and torture carried out by its cadres against perceived subversive elements are considered to have constituted genocide.

Money was abolished, books were burned, teachers, merchants, and almost the entire intellectual elite of the country were murdered to make the agricultural communism, as Pol Pot envisioned it, a reality. The planned relocation to the countryside resulted in the complete halting of almost all economic activity: even schools and hospitals were closed, as well as banks, and even industrial and service companies. Banks were raided and all currency and records were destroyed by fire thus eliminating any claim to funds.

During their four years in power, the Khmer Rouge overworked and starved the population, at the same time executing selected groups who they believed were enemies of the state or spies or had the potential to undermine the new state. People who they perceived as intellectuals or even those who had stereotypical signs of learning, such as glasses, would also be killed. People would also be executed for attempting to escape from the communes or for breaching minor rules. If caught, offenders were taken quietly off to a distant forest or field after sunset and killed.

All religion was banned by the Khmer Rouge. Any people seen taking part in religious rituals or services would be executed. Several thousand Buddhists, Muslims, and Christians were killed for exercising their beliefs.

Almost all privacy was eliminated during the Khmer Rouge era. People were not allowed to eat in privacy; instead, they were required to eat with everyone in the commune. All personal utensils were banned, and people were given only one spoon to eat with. In many cases, family members were often relocated to different parts of the country with all postal and telephone services abolished.

Save a few minor details, the play by play of the Communist Khmer Rouge’s activities as they conducted a socialist revolution which marginalized religious people, teachers, doctors, and intellectuals could easily be seen as playing out any day in the United States and Europe. Indeed, some aspects of the atrocities that happened in Cambodia are already here – the elimination of privacy, for example, or the marginalization of religion by Christophobic leftists. The largely white middle class would likely be the target of a new revolution in America. We are beginning to see a lot of smoke signals telling us some kind of fire is being stoked which plausibly could turn into the targeting of one ethnic group as scapegoats.

Brexit has already made today’s Communist and globalist revolutionaries show part of their hand in the poker game, as the European Union moves to create a European superstate that echoes the Soviet Union in a last ditch effort to create one of the linchpins of world government, which would run all of Europe out of Brussels. Indeed, world government of the type we are beginning to see the picture of as the puzzle pieces fall into place was championed by none other than Marx himself. One must wonder if the intent of those pushing centralized world government follows Ayn Rand’s analysis:

There is no difference between communism and socialism, except in the means of achieving the same ultimate end: communism proposes to enslave men by force, socialism — by vote. It is merely the difference between murder and suicide.

Since instituting world government with the vote is obviously presenting problems for the elite as people wake up en masse, are we seeing the stoking of racial fires and class warfare as a backup plan, that if needed, will enslave the world by force instead of by vote? Make no mistake, this speech marks a turning point in the popular narrative, and with other world events taking place, it is nothing to be dismissed. It truly makes one wonder if a new genocide is an agenda item of the globalists.

Why else would they be pouring salt into old wounds and targeting an entire race for the crime of “whiteness”?

https://www.returnofkings.com/48402/the-drunk-girl-in-public-scandal-makes-both-feminists-and-the-mainstream-media-look-foolish-but-who-was-behind-it

THE “DRUNK GIRL IN PUBLIC” SCANDAL MAKES BOTH FEMINISTS AND THE MAINSTREAM MEDIA LOOK FOOLISH

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mO96JFxLAnU

Within the past week, the feminist movement and its many outlets that claim to be “news” attempted to make another viral propaganda push with “Drunk Girl In Public (Social Experiment).” The video’s objective was to show men as prowling jackals yet again, with the parameters of the self-proclaimed experiments being fairly unrealistic.

Recently, however, it has been revealed that it all was apparently a hoax. The guys in the video saw it themselves later and were understandably pissed about being asked to do something under a false premise, and more importantly, portrayed as potential rapists by feminists all across the internet for their compliance.

As hilarious and satisfying as it is to see the feminist movement blow their load, unashamedly backpedal in their argument, and create even more elaborate routines of mental gymnastics, the whole thing seems off and has brought a number of questions. The questions are in no way to make any claims or insinuations, and are purely from personal speculation that are felt needed to be shared as food for thought:

1. What are many of the outlets that claim to be news to do now? Will they at issue an apology at least to their followers, for the failure to check their sources as they claim to be a source of news for them?

2. If this is the matter of them failing to check their sources before perpetuating the articles, what does this scandal say about the legitimacy of the claims made against them in regards to the ethics and practices exposed by Gamer Gate?

3. More importantly, what exactly is the role and the motivations of the creator of the video, Stephen Zhang, since he is the one who produced and originally released the video?

And that is where most of the interest lies. Stephen Zhang, the owner of HYGO, Inc., seems to be the linchpin in these events, and he is refusing to comment even though hoax claims and slandering the men in the video paint him as a dishonest asshole to everybody. From what is gathered, Stephen seems to be running a pretty successful company and has been in the marketing industry for five years. Impressive, considering he’s only 20.

HYGO, being his current venture, is primarily focused on social media optimization and it has a few portfolio examples to show the success of his company’s effectiveness for maximizing social media traffic and using it to yield a profit. However, he states that due to the elite status of his company, only 6, 7, and 8 figure contracts are the only things they work with.

This brings about other questions. Why did Stephen create the Youtube account that the video was originally posted, only recently, on 11/3/2014? And why did he add 3 other random videos a day beforehand, label them as pranks, then just a day after upload drunk girl and label it as “social experiment” instead, then cease all activity?

Since no statement has been made, what could the motivation be to fund, produce and promote this video? Anybody with a hair of business understanding would deduce that it’s unlikely to be just for shits and giggles. Going off that assumption, there are only two logical possibilities: 1) This was a part of some strategy within HYGO to increase their reach and revenue 2) HYGO or Stephen was commissioned to produce and distribute it, possibly with a non-disclosure agreement.

If this video was, indeed, commissioned, who then could possibly be the client? Who could possibly want to contract a business that specializes in the return of investment on social media, to create a video that depicts only men trying to take advantage of a drunk girl? Why would this video come out so quickly after the Catcall video, with the same framework of trying to demonstrate that men are degenerates?

Was it supposed to be that in this video, the appearance of the men’s race and socioeconomic status just happens to conveniently show a more diverse and varying demographic, one of the major argument against the Catcall videos? What does it mean in one of the messages they sent out among the men in the video after they began protesting, when they’re talking about the future success that this video is going to bring about?

Now, there are a lot of ifs and hypothetical scenarios that these questions are asking, and no one else has presented a similar opinion yet that I have seen. But given the course of events this year, I feel that this is not completely implausible. This video and its revelation that it was a hoax seem to allude to the possibility of being a part of a larger picture, one that they are more than likely going to try sweep under the rug.

Or maybe the questions have no grounds, imply a crackpot conspiracy theory, and I’m full of shit. Because there’s no way that various journalists, writers, content creators, social justice advocates, advertisers, and whoever else could be collaborating with each other behind the scenes to make some tangible gain off the target audiences of various industries under the guise of social justice and feminism. That’s just misogyny.

[purrincess-chat]

Lady Luck CH4

Oh my goodness wow she’s updating Lady Luck! Took her long enough ha ha ha, I said it not you! But in all seriousness, here is the next chapter of Lady Luck after months of waiting! There are a few NSFW conversations, but they’re not too bad. Don’t get too excited. 

FF | AO3

Chapter 4

“So, how was your date?” Alya asked immediately when Marinette walked in the door.

“It was…fine,” She said, setting her purse on their tiny table, and Alya gave her a scolding look.

“I’m a journalist, Mari. You know vague answers don’t appease me, and I won’t stop until you give me every detail,” She said pointedly, and Marinette flopped onto Alya’s bed with a smirk.

“I know,” Marinette sighed, laying a pillow across her lap as she crossed her legs.

The next several hours were spent relaying every detail to her best friend from his outfit, the base notes of his cologne, the age of the wine they had at dinner, to Adrien’s tragic past. Alya listened intently, interjecting questions here and there for further clarification.

“Whoa,” She said at the end, eye brows raising in surprise as she sipped a glass of wine. “Nino said the dude had baggage, but I thought it would be more a long string of one-night stands and rich ex-girlfriends.”

“You and me both,” Marinette remarked, swirling her drink a little. “He’s actually really sweet. He really didn’t have any malicious intentions that night at the bar.”

“See? I told you not to be so judgy,” Alya teased. “He seemed pretty cool when I hung out with him and Nino a few times. I wouldn’t have guessed the kicked puppy backstory with his dad though.”

“I guess we always just assume rich people have it all, but I guess it’s true when they say money can’t buy happiness,” Marinette finished off her glass, and a small smirk tugged on her lips. “So, what’s the scoop on you and Nino?”

“Wha – nothing! We’re just friends, whatever,” Alya huffed, taking a sip of wine to occupy herself. She averted her gaze when Marinette shot her a playfully scolding glare.

“Just friends?” She cocked a brow, and Alya’s face heated up a little. “You two hang out a lot lately.”

“We just watch movies at his place and stuff. It’s casual.” She continued her innocent act, but Marinette knew better.

“Is he a good kisser?”

“What! No- gross! He’s- Nino is like a brother to me. Ew.” She gagged, but Mari wasn’t convinced. Alya weighed it for a moment, tapping her glass. “Yes…”

Marinette squealed excitedly, throwing her arms around her best friend despite her protests about spilling her drink. Alya buried her face in her hands in shame as a wide grin stretched across Mari’s face.

“Gimme the dirty deets!” She demanded, prodding Alya’s side. “Where? When? Tongue, no tongue? Have you two had the sexy times?”

“Jesus Christ, Mari,” Alya chuckled. “Um, well, his apartment, two days ago, hell yeah, and maybe…”

“How’d it happen? Walk me through it.” Alya rolled her eyes.

“We were watching some cheesy rom-com, and he complained that the kiss scene seemed a little fake, so I asked him what would make it more convincing. Then he teased me about asking him for kissing tips to which I responded that I’m a great kisser, thank you very much, then he was all, prove it, so I did. I grabbed his face and smushed it against my face and then we had really amazing sex on his couch,” Alya glanced up at her friend who grinned from ear to ear. “Shut up.”

“Were you two safe?” She teased, and Alya groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Yes, Mom.”

“Did he treat you right? Consent? Foreplay? Did he eat you-”

“Mari!” Alya roared, giggles spilling from both of their mouths.

“I need to know that he satisfies your needs.”

“God – yes. You know I have high expectations, and I wouldn’t flatter him by saying it was amazing if he didn’t earn it,” Alya said with an eye roll.

“Good. I’m happy for you,” Marinette leaned on her shoulder, and Alya gulped down the rest of her wine.

“I really like him. I mean, I liked him when we were little too. He’s goofy and carefree, but also hella smart. I can talk to him about important stuff, and he keeps up…” She traced the rim of her glass thoughtfully. “I hope things work out between you and Adrien because it’s nice to have someone.”

“Who knows? Maybe they will,” Marinette pursed her lips thoughtfully before standing up and taking Alya’s glass.

“Night, Mari,” She said, rolling over as Marinette washed up.

“Night.”

x x x

The next morning, Mari and Alya got dressed and prepared to meet the boys for early morning coffee before they headed to school. It was overcast and a little chilly, so Alya tossed Marinette a scarf as she wrapped her own around her neck.

��So, now that we’re all friends, do you wanna go to the Jagged Stone concert with us next Friday?” She offered as Marinette slipped on her boots.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll come,” Mari said with a shrug. “Are you sure you and Nino don’t want the evening to yourselves?”

“If we want some alone time, I’ll go home with him afterward, but this is the first social event you’ve agreed to in a while, so I’m not passing it up,” Alya bopped her nose affectionately with her finger. “Though, we may ditch you guys so you and Adrien can have some alone time.”

“Whatever, we had one date, and I didn’t even speak to him for half of it. I think we’re still a ways away from hooking up on his couch,” Mari said pointedly as they locked up and headed for the stairs.

“If you say so,” Alya sang.

Nino and Adrien were waiting at the café when they arrived, chatting about a movie they’d seen recently. They perked up when Alya and Marinette approached and waved in greeting.

“What up, ladies?” Nino said with a grin when they sat down, and Alya planted a kiss on his cheek. “Been a while since we’ve seen you out of the house.”

“Yeah, I decided to forgo my vampiric ways and enjoy the sunlight a little,” Marinette teased as Adrien passed her a cup.

“Black, just how she likes it,” He said with a friendly smile, and she took a sip with a grateful moan.

“Black like her soul,” Nino said darkly, and Alya swatted his arm.

“Bitter to balance out how sweet she is,” Alya corrected.

“Mmm, why not both?” She offered, and they all snickered.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Adrien asked conversationally while they all sipped their drinks.

“Class and work,” Nino groaned.

“Ditto.”

“Same.”

“Oh.” Adrien deflated a little.

“I’ve never quite asked, what is it that you do, Adrien?” Alya questioned giving him that pressing reporter stare she was so good at.

“I’m a floater,” He replied with a shrug. “I did all my work in my teens, so now I’m living off savings until I find something I really wanna do.”

“Doesn’t that stress you out?” Her eyebrows furrowed.

“Nah, he makes it sound worse than it is. His savings are basically bottomless,” Nino said with an eye roll.

“Not entirely,” Adrien countered. “So long as I don’t do anything crazy, I can live comfortably for probably the next twenty years.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” She gaped. “Can I sign up to do whatever you did?”

“Trust me, you don’t really wanna do what I did,” He pursed his lips and shifted his gaze down to his drink. “Modeling seems glamorous, but it’s a very shallow industry. A lot of the photos are so touched up you can barely recognize yourself.”

“Yeah, I did have trouble believing you were who you said you were when we met. You’re a lot different in person,” Marinette commented, and he fixed his gaze on her. “But not in a bad way.”

“Thanks,” He smiled shyly. “It is kind of nice cause sometimes people don’t recognize me. I like to think my face has matured a little in the past couple years as well.”

“He’s a man now,” Nino chuckled. “Balls dropped and everything. I’ve seen em.”

“Dude,” Adrien chuckled, punching his arm.

“What? We played basketball together. Everyone saw you naked.”

“Oh, does that mean I can bring up the adorable mole on your ass?”

“I have seen the mole,” Alya raised her hand. “It is pretty cute.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Nino hissed under his breath when Adrien beamed triumphantly. “Or I will bring up something about your naked ass.”

“Like how her right boob is bigger than her left?” Marinette offered, and Alya shot her a playful glare.

“I did notice that,” Nino affirmed.

“Yeah, well…Marinette’s belly button looks like a smiley face!” Alya countered with a frustrated growl before sipping her drink sourly.

“Does it really?” Adrien gasped excitedly.

“Alright, that’s safe for public. C’mon, show us,” Nino demanded, and Marinette lifted her shirt up just enough to show a peak of her belly button.

“Aww. It really does look like it’s smiling.”

“Damn, congrats, Twilight. You win the strange body contest,” Nino applauded, and they all shared a laugh at that.

“So, anyways, Marinette agreed to come with us to the Jagged Stone concert,” Alya segued once they all sobered again.

“Whoa, she’s coming out of the house twice?” Nino sucked in a faux-shocked breath. “Impressive.”

“Rock concerts are the perfect place to suck blood from innocent victims without being judged,” Marinette waggled her eyebrows.

“Damn, all this time I just thought people were really horny,” Adrien swore, slamming his fist on his knee.

“No, they still are, but you can kill two birds with one stone,” She countered, and Nino’s grin widened.

“I like her,” He said decidedly with a nod as his watched beeped. “Ah, gotta go hit class.”

“Yeah, I have to stop by work and pick up my latest check,” Alya said as the pair stood up together.

“See you tonight,” She stretched up to peck his lips before they parted ways.

“Do you have class too?” Adrien asked a little dejectedly.

“Not for a little while,” Marinette shook her head, glancing at her phone, and he perked up.

“Wanna walk around the park?” He offered hopefully, flashing her those babydoll eyes she still couldn’t resist even after all those years of babysitting.

“Sure,” She said, collecting her to-go cup.

They walked across the street to the small park in silence though it wasn’t awkward. It was a nice day, and they were content just walking beside each other for a few minutes. Marinette was surprised by how different things were between them already and by how comfortable she’d become with him overnight. A few days ago the thought of spending alone time with him would have made her skin crawl, but getting to know the Adrien under all the glamor and fame had certainly helped ebb some of her worries.

“So, do you have any idea about what you might wanna do?” She asked after a while as they paced slowly along the sidewalk.

“Not a clue,” He shook his head with a wince. “Getting out of my father’s house was step number one, and I’m lucky he let me keep all of the money I earned modeling for him. I thought once I got out and had room to breathe that I’d figure it all out, but I’m still just as lost.”

“Well, what do you like to do?” She took a sip and cocked a brow.

“I…like to be around people, and I like to talk to people…and my cat,” He pursed his lips and shrugged.

“Wow, okay, that really narrows it down,” She said, pressing her lips into a firm line. “There’s gotta be something out there that intrigues you. What subject were you best at in school?”

“All of them.”

“Which sport did you win the most awards in?”

“Fencing. No…basketball. Lacrosse?”

“Do you like art?”

“I like to look at art.”

Marinette sipped her coffee with a pensive frown. She always thought having a lot of hobbies was a good thing, but it turns out it is possible to be good at too many things. Adrien was a tough case.

“I know I want to do something meaningful. I want to help people if I can; I just…don’t know how,” He shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted his gaze down to his feet.

“I’m sure you’ll find something eventually. Sometimes it takes time,” She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and offered a smile.

“Thanks,” He paused at the entrance to the park and turned to face her. “I suppose you have to go now?”

“Yeah, I should. It’s always better to be early because artists don’t always run on schedule,” She said. “I know we had a rough start, but I’m glad we’re friends now, Adrien.”

“Yeah, me too.” He smiled warmly, lifting her hand to his lips. “Thanks for talking with me.”

“We’re friends now. We can talk as much as you like,” She laughed, and he rubbed the back of his neck shyly.

“See you around.”

“Hey…Adrien?” He paused and turned back around, cocking a brow. “You’ll find something someday, and you’ll be amazing.”

With that he bit back a smile and continued up the street as Marinette turned and went her own way, a small grin of her own curled on her lips. Maybe she wouldn’t mind having some time alone with him at that concert after all.

#miraculous ladybug #adrinette #my writing #lady luck #chapter 4 #college au

[caroline18mars]

Into the night - Chapter 86

All through his conference call, Tom's thoughts drifted off to his conversation with Cedric about Jordan, after Charlotte he had witnessed his boss go through an endless stream of women, like he couldn't decide what was going to be the next flavour of the month but with Jordan he had seen that same old disgusting gleam in his eyes just like he had with Charlotte. Was it their physical similarity? Or was it the knowledge that Jordan belonged with Jared? Did he know anything about that at all? He didn't have the impression but then again Cedric was the most ruthless, cold, backstabbing bastard he had ever met..”Tom, t'es toujours là?” the voice of his French assistant brought him back to earth. “Ne t'inquiete pas, je suis toujours la, bon, je ferai le necessaire..oui, je lui en parlerai”, could they just stop nagging? Yes this next collection would be finished in time..if his nitwit boss would just sign for the budget, now that he was the head designer he often wondered how Charlotte had dealt with all this twilight where money clashed with creativity and still managed to push out the most stunning collections, unlike himself who still felt like a little boy with crayons next to a legend like her, he could pretend all he liked, but he would never have an ounce of her talent, her passion or her creative instinct. He disconnected the call and ran his hands through his hair, he needed a drink but more than anything he needed a talk with Charlotte, just realizing that he would never be able to do that again and more importantly the realisation that he participated in her death made him want to put a gun to his head right now. 

On the other side of town, Jordan's phone started buzzing and spinning on the table, distracting them both, but as soon as she saw his name on the screen, she snatched it up and quickly switched it off before she put it back in her bag. “I hope that wasn't your boyfriend, because if it was then it seems he's in a lot of trouble” Cedric raised his eyebrows  with a grin, “Uhm no, no it wasn't..it was just a friend, anyway, it's not important! Sorry, where were we?” she lied, but secretly she thanked her lucky stars that he hadn't  seen Jared's name or her cover would be blown and then she would be in real trouble. “We were just about to decide where we were going to dinner” he sat back and gestured at the waiter to get the bill, Jordan stared at him in surprise “nice try but I really don't think..” she started, she so didn't want to go out to dinner with him but Cedric cut her off “what? I need to eat, you need to eat, so I don't see any reason why we shouldn't share a meal together” and got up, grabbing her grocery bags.

Fuck, still that goddamn voicemail, by now he was starting to wonder if he was ever going to talk to her again, she was clearly ignoring him, what the hell was going on over there? Another day without even talking to her, it was starting to get to him, he just couldn't seem to focus or think clearly ever since he left her in London, was she secretly trying to tell him something? Did she even want to stay in this relationship with him at all? Where the hell was she? “Jared? Are you coming?” his brother's voice pulled him back to reality, no of course he didn't want to go back inside that stuffy courtroom? To do what? To let himself get slaughtered again? He was seriously starting to doubt the abilities of his own lawyer “yeah, yeah” he forced himself to walk up to Shannon, soon as this charade was over, he was going to call Tom or Nahla, didn't matter what time it was but he was going to call them, he had to hear where and how she was.

 “So Mr. Leto, let's go back to last year, back to the day where my client actually came to your hotelroom to tell you that she was pregnant, she claims that you were in no way shocked or surprised to hear about the condition she was in, you seemed and I quote 'calm and content' even?” Amanda's lawyer frowned at him looking over his reading glasses. “That's not true, when she told me that she was pregnant with my child, I told her that it couldn't possibly be mine..” Jared shook his head and before he could continue Amanda's lawyer stepped in again, “ok, you told her the child couldn't possibly be yours, now to me that sounds a little presumptuous, you see Mr. Leto, I think everyone in this room knows how babies are made, so the only way to be a 100% sure that the baby she was carrying at the time wasn't yours, would have been when you and my client had been perfect strangers to each other, but you weren't were you? You and the plaintiff had slept together on numerous occasions, even during the time you were in a relationship with Miss De Bettancourt”. Jared felt the bile rise in his throat when Charlotte's name dropped “That's a lie..” he hissed at the lawyer, “Oh is it? You keep denying that you had a sexual relationship with my client, but yet you even take her to the hospital in your own car to get a DNA-test done? So who's lying here, Jared? Did or did you not request that paternity test?” he was pulling the noose around his neck tighter and tighter with his insinuations. “Yes..Yes I did..but I only did it because Amanda was just a groupie..that kid could have been anyone's..she probably fucked the entire crew during that tour” he fought back but the lawyer theatrically pushed his reading glasses on top of his head “What about you Mr. Leto? I think we can all agree on the fact that your own behaviour was rather promiscuous at the time? Because around the same time there was another DNA-test done by Miss De Bettancourt who was also pregnant..” he clicked on a button and Charlotte's DNA test appeared on the screen next to Amanda's “that's your name right there as well, isn't it Mr. Leto”. Shannon nervously shuffled on his seat, his brother was getting fried on the spot and there was nothing he could do, this was so not going to end well but then the judge decided to interfere “we've all seen the evidence, Mr. Gomez, your point being?” she forcefully said as she scribbled something down. “I was just about to get to the point, your honour “ he said unphased by her reprimand and leaned on the witness desk where Jared sat “Mr. Leto, did or did you not insist with Miss De Bettancourt to have an abortion when you found out she was pregnant? But before you answer that question can I please remind you that you're under oath?”. Jared felt like he was nailed to his chair, all the trauma he had tried so hard to cope with over the last year was back to haunt him in full force “yes..yes I did” he nearly choked on his words, “Ok, and did or did you not do that because you believed that Miss De Bettancourt was carrying her ex-boyfriend's baby?” the lawyer could barely hide the triumph in his voice when he asked him. Jared swallowed hard, knowing full well that with his next answer, his fate would be sealed, but what else could he do than tell the truth for Charlotte's sake? “yes I did” he breathed in despair. “No further questions, your honour” Amanda's lawyer gently tapped his hand on the bench and returned back to his seat.

”A true gentleman no less, now that is rare these days” she gave him a grateful nod as he held out her chair for her before she sat down, right before she put her bag down she quickly grabbed her phone that she had switched back on during the walk over here, and sneakily pressed play to record this whole hopefully interesting conversation while the phone rested on her lap. “You make it sound like I'm the last of my kind, a beautiful lady always makes a man remember his manners, if he doesn't, well then he's not much of a man! I take it your boyfriend doesn't hold out a chair for you often, if you're that surprised by a simple gesture?!” Cedric huffed as he sat down on the other side of the table. “He has his moments” Jordan clapped open the menu, “that doesn't sound too convincing, since we're on the subject, what does he do? Do you live with him?” the little nervous twitch in his jaw didn't go unnoticed. “Uhm, he's an entrepreneur, he's uhmm..got a couple of businesses here and there, he lives with me when he's in town” it wasn't exactly a lie, but she just needed to cover up the truth. “When he's in town? What an idiot to leave you all by yourself in your condition” Cedric sarcastically raised his eyebrows before he clapped the menu shut again and looked at her, “My condition is my problem, Cedric, there's nothing anyone can do about that..he's a kind man, we love each other very much, and I'm not alone, I've got my friends and my little pumpkin” his pathetic attempt to selfrighteousness started to get on her nerves. “Little pumpkin? Who's that? Your child? Tom didn't tell me you had children?” he handed the waiter his menu and placed the order for both of them, which annoyed her beyond belief, she wasn't a child and she sure didn't like men patronizing her like this. “I don't! I'm looking after my nephew..my brother works abroad and he can't raise the boy on his own, so he put the boy in my care so he can get the best education here” her mind was working overtime, she really needed to make absolutely sure to throw up a smoke screen aroound her loved ones, so this freak here in front of her wouldn't go snooping around, “what about you? Do you have children?” she tried to get to the point so she could get out of here as soon as possible. She clearly had hit a nerve because he leaned back in his seat and broke eyecontact with her as he nervously draped his napkin over his lap “that all depends on how you look at it, technically you could say I have but the child is not in my life..it was more a 'donor' kind of thing, helping out a friend..but anyway, why are we even talking about this on our first date?” he raised his head with a grin, leaning his arms back on the table as he stared into her eyes again. “A first date? What happened to two people enjoying a meal together?” Jordan cocked her head looking at him with a mocking smirk, “Ah, the wine, a little taste of my home country” he nervously sat back again as the waiter showed him the bottle, was she getting under his skin? She was pretty sure she was when he put the glass to his lips to taste the wine, his eyes burning into hers.

Tom's heart did a somersault when his phone buzzed on the nightstand and he saw who was calling him “Jordan! Hey! I'm so glad you called” he breathed into the phone as he sat up in bed, hoping she was calling him to talk this through. “Tom..we need to talk” Jordan quickly closed the door of her apartment behind her, “I know, I'm sorry, Jordan, I was out of line, I really don't know what possessed me to say such awful things to you, I didn't mean it, I'm just..” he got lost in his apologies until she cut right through his little monologue “Tom, I just need to know if I can trust you? I mean it, Tom, I need to know whose side you're really on”. He quickly glanced at the alarm on the nightstand, it was the middle of the night, but it didn't matter, he couldn't sleep anyway, he had been going over and over this in his head all day “I'm coming over, I need to see you, I'll be right there” he breathed and disconnected the call to jump in his clothes and get in his car. Jordan let herself fall on her couch even though she was tempted to take a shower, that's how dirty she felt even talking to that creep, but while she waited for Tom she might as well make another phonecall that was even more urgent. Jared's day was coming to a close and he sat in his garden where Shannon had forcibly told him to stay while he made them something to eat, refusing to leave him on his own after the nightmare at the courthouse today when his phone rang. “Babe?! Oh thank god” his voice was so hoarse when it rolled in her ear “I've been so worried”, Jordan closed her eyes feeling guilty for ignoring his call earlier on, he felt awful she could clearly hear it. “I know and I'm sorry, I was kinda busy earlier on” what was one more lie on this horrible day? No, wait, it wasn't a lie, she was just covering up the truth, if she told him what happened then this whole plan was going down the drain “I just needed to hear your voice, I miss you” see that was actually the truth. Suddenly nothing seemed to matter anymore, not this dreadful day and not this courtcase from hell, all that mattered was this warm glow that tore through his body hearing her say that one little sentence which got him all emotional. “Jared? You still there?” she quickly lifted the phone from her ear to check the screen if they were still connected, “I'm here, babe, I'm right here, I miss you too, so much in fact that I'm seriously considering going back to London, I just need to be with you, this distance between us is killing me, I'm not myself when you're not with me”. She had rarely heard him so emotional “Oh Jared..” she didn't really know what to say, his words were throwing her off balance, “I mean it, I should never have come here, I could call Emma to put me on the next plane to London, or better she can get the private jet ready, that shouldn't take too long..”. Suddenly he had hope again, just the thought of being with her again, holding her, kissing her sent surges of electricity through his body, “Jared, whoa, wait, hold on..don't get me wrong, I really wish you were here right now, in fact there's nothing more I would want but..it's just not possible and neither is it realistic..” she bit her lip, she was so going to regret ever saying this “listen to me, you can't just up and leave and turn your back on that courtcase just because you miss me..it's not right, Jared..”. What? What was she saying, she couldn't change her mind, not now “Jordan, listen to me, I don't care if it's right or not, I'm not just doing this for you, I'm doing this for us” he tried to reason with her. “Of course you care, Jared, think about it, leave LA now and you'll never have a clear conscience knowing that you are paying that bitch to raise the child of the man who killed Charlotte? I just couldn't bear to see you suffer..” she hated having to be so blunt with him but it was the only way to get her plan to work, she had come so far now, if he came back now then everything would be in vain.

#jared leto #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #30 secondstomars fanfic #30 seconds to mars #into the night #chapter 86 #jordan and jared #jordan

[culturalgutter]

We people of Earth are experiencing a renaissance in horror on TV like we’ve never enjoyed before, as traditional gatekeepers are dispersed in the wild hunt for content, any content that is compelling or innovative or just plain outré enough to collect people at watercoolers, where presumably advertisers can drop a net on the whole pack and harvest their disposable incomes and/or pineal juices. There’s Scream Queens, Scream, American Horror Story, Ash Vs. Evil Dead, Stranger Things, Bates Motel, and so many more jostling for your eyeballs, and they are all worthy of your eyeballs. The surprisingly gory Supernatural is in its 80th season, I think, and The Walking Dead has proven itself stronger than even zombie fatigue. And for every Penny Dreadful or Hannibal that is cut down, a Twin Peaks or X-Files will rise. But everyone in my house is sick, and have been in various configurations for the last month and a half, so I can’t tell you about any of those new shiny things at the moment.  Sick babies are hell on your Netflix queue. And while David Cronenberg and Anthony Burgess’ epidemiologic horror is also top of mind these days, I find myself ultimately retreating to the comfort food of old favorites. In this case, the genteel rictus smile of Boris Karloff’s Thriller.

Stephen King had high praise for Thriller in 1981’s Danse Macabre*, and you’ve got to respect Stephen King’s opinion in these matters. Deference to King aside, since it wasn’t widely syndicated like The Twilight Zone, The Outer Limits, Alfred Hitchcock’s anthology shows, and a slew of others, and I fall in the Gen X cohort that missed the first go-around, I never actually clapped eyes on the show until Netflix picked it up a few years ago. There’s only two seasons, but these are 1960s seasons, so the hour-long format delivers a full 50 minutes of content, not the 37-42 minutes we get today, with a total of 67 episodes, so it certainly doesn’t feel like a short-lived series. I think a show would have to be on for almost a decade in Britain to ding 67 eps.

In a lot of ways, Thriller is just like its horror anthology contemporaries and successors: weird standalone teleplays – usually horror, but sometimes a crime or mystery story —  starring many faces who, if not already famous and beloved, would certainly become so later on: Ida Lupino (who also directed a boatload of these and scripted one), John Carradine, Leslie Neilsen, Ursula Andress, William Shatner, Harry Townes, Elizabeth Montgomery, Rip Torn, Mary Tyler Moore, and on and on and on. The stories tended to be horror siphoned from a very EC Comics vein, where bad people succeeded in bad things, only to be visited with hells of their own making. The most upfront difference was its host, a man once simply billed by his forbidding last name in Universal’s horror heyday, Boris Karloff, who also starred in a handful of the stories as a glorious bonus.

Boris was a big value add, no question, not only bringing the heft of his horror credentials, but investing every host segment with superbly ghoulish glee.  Each episode, after an appropriately shocking cold open, Boris would step into the scene or the camera would pan to reveal him, much in the manner of Rod Serling’s introductions in The Twilight Zone, but instead of Serling’s moralistic omniscience, Boris was conversational and warm, and the bloodier the subject matter, the more delighted he seemed.  It’s a neat trick, possibly unparalleled, to be at once so kindly and so sinister. I could watch nothing but a loop of his host sequences for hours. And Boris really worked for it. When he warned, “And those were no ordinary pigeons. They were pigeons from hell!” you knew he meant it. Before the lights went down for the story proper to begin, he would also introduce the cast, reminding you of the unreality of it all briefly before returning to his convivial threats. I love these sequences, especially when the cast physically walks into the picture with Boris, looking haunted or malign, and I love that, at least initially, Boris referred to them as “Mr. Rip Torn. Miss Patricia Barry,” etc. It’s exquisitely mannered. The tagline was, “As sure as my name is Boris Karloff, this one is a Thriller!” And he was pretty true to his word.**

There were a few clunkers, though there always are, and even the success of the better episodes may be a matter of taste, particularly several decades after some of the punchlines and the story outlines have been retold so often they’re blunted with quaintess. But the source material was as top notch as The Twilight Zone at its height, harvesting work from August Derleth, Robert E. Howard, Richard Matheson, and particularly Robert Bloch, who wrote seven episodes. And hell, Ray Milland directed an episode about Jack the Ripper. There was a ton of talent going into these shows, and if it had had a better timeslot, maybe it would have survived to become the institution The Twilight Zone (deservedly) is. Thriller did at least spawn a comic series, Boris Karloff Tales of Mystery, which survived the show and Karloff both into the 1980s.

My favorite Thriller episodes all turn on that EC Comics flavor horror. You could easily swap out Boris for the Crypt Keeper as far as that goes, but I do prefer Karloff’s puns. Here, in no particular order, are my five top Thriller episodes for the adventurous viewer. There’s a DVD collection, plus it’s currently showing on the Decades cable channel. You may find many episodes on YouTube.

William Shatner did two Thriller episodes, and I have a hard time picking a favorite. Part of this is simply because Shatner’s really good in both. People make fun, but he’s a damn fine actor, and his black-and-white work could be a lot more restrained than we expect from Captain Kirk or Denny Crane. In “The Hungry Glass,” based on a Robert Bloch story, Shatner is one half of a young married couple who have just bought a house . They were sold the house by a realtor friend, who you may also recognize as Russell “The Professor” Johnson, and it has a spooky reputation that has kept the Century 21 sign out front for a generation. When the Shatners take possession of the house, they’re there for approximately a minute before the realtor’s wife screams that she saw a figure outside the window, and it’s not Torgo because the window overlooks a scenic sheer drop. There are nervous chuckles and rationalizations, but it doesn’t take very long at all for Shatner and his wife to start seeing fleeting figures in reflective surfaces. And then the wife finds an attic full of mirrors.

The second Shatner episode is called “The Grim Reaper,” another Bloch adaptation, and it stars a cursed painting that really looks like sweet heavy metal van art. Here, Shatner is the nephew of a different castaway, Natalie Schafer, who plays an eccentric, exuberant, and very alcoholic mystery writer. She recently acquired the cursed painting because she’s the kind of person who would, and her caring nephew has come to warn her off of it. As he explains, when the scythe of the depicted grim reaper drips blood, someone will soon die. And wouldn’t you know it? He touches the painting to demonstrate and comes away with bloody fingertips. That same night, his aunt discovers her husband is trying to snuggle her assistant. It’s a story that’s equal parts Clue and the Roddy McDowall vignette in the Night Gallery pilot, and it’s perfect.

My third Thriller pick is called “The Hollow Watcher.” The Hollow Watcher is a scarecrow, and  I love demon scarecrow stories. It is also a story of southern white rural poor, which always interests me since, well, I was/will always be, and their treatment always grabs my interest, but it’s fair here.*** It starts with Denver Pyle as a meaner version of Briscoe Darling, attacking his son Hugo’s mail-order Irish bride. As father and son fight it out, the bride sneaks up and whacks Daddy dead. Since the son was pretty well knocked out by his father, she’s able to convince him that he beat his father so profoundly that his father ran away, forsaking his land. Hugo, in hillbilly man-child mode, expresses anxiety that “The Hollow Watcher,” a scarecrow up on the hill/avenging monster will visit judgment on him for raising a hand to his elder. In the meantime, a man claiming to be her brother arrives on the scene, his wife recently dead. Hugo is called away, and brother and sister are revealed to be man and wife grifters with a very Crimson Peak approach to building a nest egg. Hugo might be gone, but the Hollow Watcher still overlooks the property, and as Boris reminds us, “The beliefs of simple country folk can create forces that can certainly surprise you.”

Next, I choose “The Terror in Teakwood,” a story about a hatred between two concert pianists so white-hot, it survives death. Hazel Court plays the wife of the still living pianist Vladimir Vicek (Guy Rolfe), disturbed that since the death of his rival Karnovich, he’s been acting, well, a little weird, and she keeps finding him covered in blood. She thinks that someone is trying to kill him. So she goes to her ex Jerry (Charles Aidman) and asks him to come work as her husband’s manager, while secretly trying to get to the bottom of the blood-covered husband biz. Imagine how worried she’d be if she knew what her husband did at his rival’s grave in the cold open.

Lastly, I recommend “The Incredible Doktor Markesan,” based on an August Derleth story, starring Boris Karloff as the titular doktor with Dick York and Carolyn Kearney as his nephew and nephew’s wife, driven to the door of his Old Dark House in penniless desperation. Markesan, creepier even than his house, agrees to let the poor couple stay, but insists they never leave their room after dark, and just to be sure, he locks them in. Markesan, sweetie, if it didn’t work for Dracula, it’s not going to work for you.

Those are my favorites, but even as I make the list, I want to recommend “The Purple Room” for the Psycho exteriors and Rip Torn almost unrecognizably young, “Mr. George” for its darkly comedic tale of a specter foiling three wicked people’s attempts to kill their young ward, Patricia Barry’s Jekyll and Hyde performance in August Derleth’s “A Wig For Miss Devore,” the weird voodoo weirdness of the Robert E. Howard story “Pigeons From Hell,” and on and on. This show has so many goodies. Even the crime thriller episodes have their good points, like…Robert Lansing. “Late Date” is a pretty good one of those, based on a Cornell Woolrich story. And while there’s a lot of exciting new stuff out there that deserves your attention, just because something’s of a certain vintage, that doesn’t mean you should give it up for dead.

[manic laughter, discordant organ music begins]

* Among Stephen King’s very astute judgments in Danse Macabre, I have, with time and home ownership, come to appreciate his verdict on The Amityville Horror as being mostly horrifying when you think how much money that poor family hemorrhaged.

** Of course, he never legally changed his name from William Henry Pratt, so if a show wasn’t a thriller, I suppose the joke would be on us.

***I will note here that the setting is rural North Carolina, and everyone pronounces the word “hollow” with a long o sound at the end. That has a very spooky ring and is certainly evocative of a man made of straw, but since it refers to a place, i.e. the hollow the scarecrow is watching over, it really should be pronounced “holler,” especially by country folk. I assume no North Carolinians were consulted in the making of this episode.

~~~

Angela does wonder about the alternate timeline where Bela Lugosi hosted an anthology show.

For No Mere Mortal Can Resist We people of Earth are experiencing a renaissance in horror on TV like we’ve never enjoyed before, as traditional gatekeepers are dispersed in the wild hunt for content, any content that is compelling or innovative or just plain outré enough to collect people at watercoolers, where presumably advertisers can drop a net on the whole pack and harvest their disposable incomes and/or pineal juices.

#anthology #August Derleth #Boris Karloff #Boris Karloff Tales of Mystery #Boris Karloff&039;s Thriller #Crypt Keeper #Danse Macabre #Denver Pyle #Dick York #EC Comics #Elizabeth Montgomery #Harry Townes #Hazel Court #Ida Lupino #John Carradine #Leslie Nielsen #Mary Tyler Moore #Natalie Schafer #Ray Milland #Richard Matheson #Rip Torn #Robert Bloch #Robert E. Howard #Rod Serling #Stephen King #The Outer Limits #The Twilight Zone #Universal Studios #William Shatner