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the-fandom-therapist · 3 months

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(@ultimateplaylistmaker you are to blame for this.

I planned to do the OTHERS parts of the alicorn!Kokichi AU, not this!

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Anyway, here's alicorn Kokichi in the infection AU, my version which is heavily inspired by the asks I send lmao)

Death is weird.

You don't feel anything. Actually, thank fuck because if he have to stay eternally in the state of agony he was in before dying, he would considering it hell.

Not like he wouldn't have deserve it. But still.

Anyhow, at some point when he was drifting in... limbo he guesses, he felt a pull towards... somewhere.

His soul was called somewhere and he doesn't even know where. Or why. Or even by who!

He felt himself falling, and blacked out at the moment of impact.

~0o0~

When he woke up, he immediatly noticed something was off.

First of all, the desolated wasteland (no, not this one! Fuck off Monokuma!) was a pretty good indicator that something is very wrong.

Second of all, when he bolted to get at the closest thing that could be used as a shelter, he found out that he was unable to get on his two feet. He could only walk on all four-

Wait.

Wait, wait wait, hold up a SECOND.

He lift his hand.

This is not a hand.

THAT'S A HOOF.

He's a fucking horse now? What the fuck?

...Hell is fucking weird.

Like, he would get getting thrown into a wasteland as a punishement. Makes sense. But as a horse? Okay DICE associate him 24/7 with the animal because of his name, but that's still strange.

Oh wait. He's not just a horse, he's a freaking unicorn apparently, because when he tried to put a han-hoof on his head, he got resistance.

Yep. A horn. So unicorn he is apparently. Great.

He's not in a regular wasteland, he's in a magical wasteland. He's going to see fucking pegasus next?

Nevermind, he's just going to see HIMSELF fully next! He was lucky(?) to stumble upon a shattered mirror.

Apparently he got the full treatement of magical horse. Because he's both a unicorn and a pegasus now.

Also his... well, fur? Is entierely white. His mane is the same color as his hairs, which make sense he suppose. Also thank fuck he kept his scarf. Otherwise he'd throw a fit. (Would that change anything? No. Does he care? Also no.)

He got more or less the same haircut too. His eyes are the same colors as well, so there that.

...Why the fuck does he got a tattoo on his thigh though.

A tattoo of... A purple snake -cobra apparently- with dripping fangs and a dice in its mouth. With a crown. And warped around a weird staff.

Actually it looks pretty cool, but he never wanted that thanks.

...So what does he do now?

First of all, he need to find something to eat. And water too. Because considering the state of the buildings around, he's going to bet that water isn't running anymore.

Next, a place to sleep that isn't in plain sight. If he could get a shelter from the elements, it'd be great!

Then maybe he could-

His thoughts stopped when he heard a groan.

Oops, seems like he's not alone here!

Now, the one-million question. Is it a friend or foe? In a situation like this, it's best to assume they're a fo-

WHAT THE FUCK

He doesn't know how, he doesn't know why, but when the other guy -horse really- charged at him, with obvious hostile intentions, he got blasted away by...

Purple energy?

Oh wait, he is technically a unicorn... He can do magic? Sick! Though he'll probably need to learn more about how to use it. But, more importantly...

That looks to be a very damn sick horse!

Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!

...Oh wait.

Sick looking, stumbling around, trying to attack...

Ah shit, he got himself into a damn zombie apocalypse didn't he?

...That is NOT his day.

~0o0~

Alright. After a week or so, Kokichi successfully got a few infos.

First of all: this world is different from his. Everyone here is a horse. Or rather, pony since they call themselves that.

Everyone either have wings, or a horn, or neither. But he have yet to see one who have both, just like him.

Weird. But he suppose it's a question of chance and genes. Rare ones could create both maybe?

Anyway.

He learned that this outbreak had been going on for a little less than a month. Nobody knows where their rulers (princesses apparently) went, or if they were infected or not.

He learned how to use magic, albeit only for rough spells. Just burst of energy to send the infected away from him long enough to run away, or cut things -more like explode them...- to barricade a place.

He's been trying to learn how to fly too; apparently those infected, even if they were pegasi, didn't had the cognitive connections to know how to fly now. And even if they did, they were rare and slow. So it's a great way to get away!

The only downside is to do it in a desert area, because he have a tendency to still fall rather often. And he's veeeeery far from the steady flights he saw other survivors do.

He tried to approach a group of survivors once but... Seeing them shooting another pony not infected on sight with magic cut rather efficently that idea. He's going solo here. (Even though he would benefit GREATLY from having a source of informations about this world!)

And, well he's doing pretty good for himself all things considered. Living in the streets before is great experience for the apocalypse, what do you know! Even when you're a pony.

He stayed on his own for a good week after that. Until...

~0o0~

He was walking on the border of a road going to... somewhere, when he saw it.

A pony. Lying on the ground, whimpering.

He still had a lot of colors, but there was a clear bite mark on his leg. Kokichi grimaced.

That pony was probably travelling with a group, got bitten and left to die. Man, even in Ponyland people can be assholes.

He approach the guy cautiously. The bite looked fresh, and infected only start to lose their minds at the second stage, after a week or two if the notes he found in an abandoned hospital were to be believed, but he wasn't going to risk it.

Upon hearing hooves on the pavement, the pony looked in his direction pleadingly.

"H-Help... Please..."

Now Kokichi is a leader of evil, but he's not a heartless bastard. Besides, he does need info about this world...

"Well I'm not against it friend! But I don't know how. Can that nasty thing be stopped?"

A weak nod.

"A-Amputation."

Ah. Aoutch. Okay.

He grimaced.

"Alright then. No promise though! I'm pretty new to the "magic" stuff."

That's going to be gorey. Just great... But it's not like they have another choice.

Alright then. Let's try to pour magic over an imaginary garrot and try to squeeze and-

And the wound actually closed. The bite wasn't here anymore, and the unicorn already looked better, colors because as vibrant as they were before getting bitten.

...

Okay so that's a thing apparently? He can heal?

...Cool. He never tried to heal the infected before and now he feel kinda bad. But hey, he wasn't going to risk getting bitten himself trying to help them!

The unicorn immediatly got up and looked at itself with a shocked expression.

Then he looked at Kokichi and...

And kneeled? What the-

"I didn't realized! Oh my Lord please forgive me! Of course it make sense that a powerful alicorn such as yourself would be able to cure this horror!"

...What.

"Uh... Excuse me?"

"I owe you! I owe you my life! Order and I obey my prince!"

Hold up! Pause! What is happening?! Why is this unicorn worshipping him all of a sudden? Okay, he cured him, and it's not something ponies can do yet, but why is he treating like royalty?

...Oh no.

He said "alicorn", which is probably how they call ponies who have both wings and horn. And he heard ponies talking about their princesses before...

Ah fuck, having both is a status here, isn't it. Goddamnit.

"H-Hey now. Get up! I'm not the prince of anyone. I just arrived in this world and I have no idea what's going on!"

That didn't helped. If anything, it made things worse.

"You're a godsent then! No, no surely you must be a god to be able to travel worlds as easily as that!"

Things are getting out of hand really quickly right now.

"Okay, no, I'm not a prince, or a god, I'm just some guy! I just learned I can heal that infection thing, you're literally the only pers-pony that I help since I got here!"

"Am I? Oh my Lord, it's an honor! Please, let me travel with you! I swear on my life I will be loyal until death claim me for good!"

...That guy isn't listening to him is he?

"I'm telling you, I'm not a-!"

They both stopped. Infected coming from the town Kokichi just left were starting to head towards them.

"We gotta go." he hissed, starting to scan the surroundings for a safe way.

"But of course my Lord! Allow me!"

Before Kokichi could even sputter a word about the "I am not a god stop that" they got warped by indigo looking magic, and suddenly they were in a complete new place.

"...Where are we?"

"This is the farthest point I know my Lord. the unicorn said apologically. My magic isn't strong enough to go further."

"Stop calling me that."

He looked around. That was probably supposed to be a makeshift shed, made in urgency when the outbreak happened. Thankfully it was empty now.

"O...kay. Moving on. Err, what's your name?"

"I am Frost Blade my Lord! I was a mere ice sculptor before the outbreak and your arrival!"

"Stop calling me that."

That name sounded cheesy as fuck. But he gotta "blend in" and hopefully get this pony's ideas about a god out of his head. A name out of this world -literally- would only fuel his delirium.

Now to find a name... Oh wait.

That pony also had a thigh tattoo. Being of an ice pick and a chisel...

He's going to bet that everyone's name here is going to be related to that tattoo.

Now...

Oh well. You know what?

He just got out of a killing game by dying, only to wake up in a zombie apocalypse except that everyone's a pony. And there's magic.

Unlucky but in an unbelievable way...

"Call me Snake Eyes."

"Of course my Lord!"

...It's going to be long.

~0o0~

At least he gain something from this whole mess.

Yes, reminding the other unicorn that he's NOT a god on a daily basis is annoying, but at least he got magic lessons out of this.

Frost Blade have been more than happy to help out.

So now Kokichi can teleport. Go him! And pick things up with magic.

Also, he's able to cut things more precisely. Having an ice sculptor is actually useful in a case like this.

They travel to what might have been night in a normal world. Apparently, the princesses he heard about earlier were responsible for rising the sun and the moon. All they know is that one day, the sun rose never to go down again.

Nobody knows what happened to the two princesses.

"But of course, the two sisters are nothing compared to you my Lord! You're the only one that can fight off this horror, while they surely have succumb to it!"

Kokichi REALLY hope that he'll never run into them. With that idiot loudly claiming what can only be insult to royalty, they'd end up in prison for sure.

He hadn't tried to heal more infected. The ones they encountered were all too far gone for his beginner level healing.

Until he ran into a group, that apparently just got out of a confrontation with a hoard of infected.

Of the five ponies here -two earth ponies, two unicorns and one pegasus- three had clear bite marks. Fresh too.

Obviously Frost Blade was about to go rambling to them about his healing ability, but he stopped him. He had better plan

"Hey there!" he said with a smile.

Everyone looked at him with a mix of confusion, shock and distrust. Which, yeah fair.

"You seemed to be a in a bit of a situation. What about a deal! Your pegasus friend teaches me how to fly and I heal your nasty bite marks. Sounds good?"

Obviously they were wary. Who wouldn't? But Frost Blade was back in action, singing his praises with such conviction that they gave in. After all, what did they had to lose?

Kokichi grinned. Now he could get to fly at least. Not that there was a particular urge, they weren't getting spotted often and could use magic to defend themselves... But fuck it, he got wings so why not! Flying sounded cool.

But he kept his end of the bargain of course. Couldn't get a lesson if the guy was infected!

So he poured magic in the bite wounds and prayed it'll work. And... surprisingly, it did!

It left him really tired, but it worked! And everyone was looking at him flabbergasted. Asides from Blade Frost of course. Who looked really smug actually!

"See? What did I told you ponies? He's a god of health!"

"Will you stop that! I'm not a god!"

"But you're an alicorn." pointed out one of the earth ponies.

"Yeah so? I'm not from this world! I can't even fly yet."

"That's because you're new. I'll teach you, as a payement. It won't be hard..."

"Yeah, and we're following you my Lord!" added one of the unicorn.

Goddamnit, them too? This is going to become a cult at this point and he does NOT like it.

"Stop calling me that I have a name! And it's Snake Eyes thank you. I'm not a god!"

"Hard to believe that when you healed the infection that took our princesses away!"

~0o0~

...They're starting to find arguments, it's becoming a bit scary.

They found more infected after that. And things were always the same.

He healed them if they were early stages, or made everyone run away if they were late stages. The one he healed kneel before him and swore undying loyalty -WILL THEY STOP THAT- and join him while treating him like a deity.

After a month or so of travelling and gathering ponies, he ended up with at least fifty damn horses treating him like a god!

And it's really fucking creepy. He had to stop them giving him daily sacrifices too, they were going way too far!

The problem he had was simple: he need them to stop treating him like a damn god, but also he needed to be able to lead them. Because if he lose authority, he'd have fifty very angry ponies against him, and even with a pretty good hold on magic, he have zero chance.

However, things changed when two ponies arrived, seeking his help.

Word had travelled fast about his ability to heal the infection, and he unfortunately had to turn away those with a too advanced state because he couldn't heal that yet.

Oh he'd give it a shot of course! But if he failed, he'll just say he can't heal it and the infected have to be put down. (You'd think that witnessing their so-called "god" failing at something would wake them up, but NO SIR! They'd twist the story saying that his magic can tell who had been a good pony or not, and if it didn't worked you weren't virtuous enough. Wow. Just, wow.)

(He'd apologize personally for their behavior in secret way too many times to count.)

But here it wasn't the same thing.

"You can heal the infection right? she'd say. So heal my sister!"

Kokichi ignored the crack of her voice, and rather stared at the filly hiding behind her sister's hooves.

That's. a. child. A filly. Whatever. IT'S A KID!

He can't turned down a child! No matter if her state was way more advanced than what he heal usually.

He have to. He can't fail a little girl.

"I'll do it." he said softly, gesturing to the girl to step forwards.

"Sweetie Belle. her sister said. Come on now. He can heal you. It's going to be okay. You're going to feel better."

The filly took some hesitant steps forwards. There's definitely a hunger in her eyes and he doesn't like it.

She have the beginning of fangs coming out of her mouth, and her colors are already fading.

She's going to go through the second stage very soon if he doesn't do something quickly.

"Where did you got bit?" he asked, because it's way easier if he can directly pour magic inside the source of the infection.

She's shaking, but she lift her left hoof which have a bandage.

"Yikes! Must have hurt a lot. Bunch of meanies those infected I swear! he pouted. But it's gonna be okay! I'm gonna take care of that."

"Barbarians. added her sister, nodding. A true lack of etiquette!"

Hey, he sees that she's also trying to get the kid at ease. That's a good sister! He likes her already.

"Someone gotta teach them some manners!" he said, before putting his horn on the bandage, mumbling a soft apology at the wince.

Then he concentrate.

He can see the infection going through her veins, eating bit by bit the vital liquid. He can see it agglomerate around the stomache, which explain the hunger in her eyes...

Alright. Showtime now, he can't let a kid die.

He close his eyes and focus his magic on the immediate surroundings of the wound. It immediatly start to destroy the virus, bit by bit. He pours more. She need more magic.

The infection had started to spray already, so he needs to reach further.

More magic.

The infection disappear from her legs' blood vessels.

More magic.

It disappear from her stomache.

More.

No more in her throat.

More!

No more in the blood vessels anywhere else now.

He didn't noticed he started to shake. He's breathing a bit heavy too. Fuck, that's probably scaring the girl. He opened his eyes and grinned at her.

"Hey, ever tried to play tag with a sickness? It's hard! he pouted. Its cheating too. But I'm gonna win, don't worry!"

Now though, he only need to completely destroy the last remnants of it that had reached her brain. Not enough for her to lose herself completely, thank fuck.

He's tired. That was way more magic than he ever used before. But he need to use more.

The filly won't survive otherwise, and he's not going to let that happen. Her sister doesn't deserve that either.

So he pours more. More, and more, and more magic until he can't feel any traces of the damn infection in her system.

He check several times that she's really, truly double-sure healed, and he opened his eyes again, and look at the two sisters.

"Ko-Snake Eyes: one, dumb disease: zero!"

Then he promptly collapse under everyone's shocked and worried expression -for the sisters at least-

And he's grateful for that. He missed his errr... followers, errupting in cheers and stoomping their hooves on the ground like kids, and the bullshit chants about hil getting more and more powers.

God that's embarassing.

~0o0~

He woke up on the makeshift bed his "followers" made him. Their base is temporary, always had been, but now that they're numerous they can afford to stay a month or two more than before since someone's always on patrol.

But right now, that's not what's on his mind.

Right now he need to make sure the little girl's okay. He checked, but he was exhausted and he could have missed a spot! He can't afford that.

So he take the time to get his bearings back again, and go where the newcomers are usually put until they can find more rooms to put them. And as expected, the two sisters were there.

"Mister!"

She looks way better. No hunger in her eyes, it's good. The bite mark also disappeared.

"Howdy! he answered back. How are you doing?"

"We should be the one asking you that! You collapsed!"

"Pshhhh I wanted to say hi to the floor, nothing serious!"

He used his magic just so he can make sure there's no traces of infection... And yeah. It's all gone. Thank fuck.

"Just wanted to check, noooooooo virus left, thanks for choosing our services!" he said, making a small bow.

"Thank you. the big sister said. We owe you. she frown. But we won't treat you like a deity!"

...Holy shit.

"Halleluja somepony with common sense! he said, grinning wildy. Can you be one of my advisor, to keep the other idiots in line?"

She blinked, apparently not expecting that.

"Um... I suppose? My name is Rarity, and this is Sweetie Belle." she said, putting a hoof on her sister's head.

"Snake Eyes, but you already knew that. he smiled. I'm so glad to finally find someone with a logical brain! Maybe you'll be able to convince those guys that I'm NOT a god thank you."

She really looked confused and he couldn't really blame her. Generally, the leader of a cult is someone who's consenting to be, you know, the object of a cult.

"I can try. But if you couldn't..."

"Still worth a shot! Anyway..."

He explained to them that they're searching for a safe place to settle for good. And once it's done... Well, it's done. But thankfully Rarity had another idea.

"Once we settle, it would be a good idea to look for the others... she mumbled, before adding. My friends. The bearer of the Elements of Harmony."

"...The what now."

She looked at him with a confused gaze.

"You don't know what it is?"

"Listen, I got thrust into this world only after the infection started, I have no idea what you're talking about."

She looked a bit uncredulous, but she still explained.

And wow.

"...Aaaaand what are magical artefacts supposed to do in a zombie apocalypse?"

"Ideally, find the root of the problem, and getting rid of it. she sighed. Create a massive cure too..."

"Sounds a bit utopic to me but alright! he shrugged. Not that we have many things to do outside of finding a permanent safe zone... But you said we have to find your friends first right?"

"Yes... And it's going to be a bit tedious. I don't even know where they ended up, or if they aren't infected themselves..."

"Hm. Well it's still better to stay in a bunker without a purpose! So I'm all for that plan. Also I guess I need to become better at curing that damn infection too..."

They left it at that.

Rarity was a very skilled seamstress, so she made clothes like armors to protect the ponies on patrol from bites.

She even redesign the usual cloak and mask (his scarf) he wore when they were on the move. Now he straight up looks like a plague doctor. Except that instead of a bird mask, it's a snake one. And the cloak looks more like his old, DICE's one. Dark purple, just like it. And- fuck it. He also asked her to sew DICE's logo on his cloak. Because despite this whole "apocalypse" mess, he still miss them damn it.

And one day, when they were staying at an abandoned factory, one of the pony on patrol came back and yelled.

"WE FOUND PRINCESS TWILIGHT SPARKLE!"

Well, that promises to be interesting.

#danganronpa killing harmony #drv3 #danganronpa v3 killing harmony #kokichi ouma #ndrv3 #alicorn kichi au #mlp au #mlp infection au

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acldwash · 12 days

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Tagged by @ego--death ! Thank you!!! I always forget to do these when i get tagged so im doing it now so i dont forget!

shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and list the first 10 songs that play, then tag 10 people

1. In the backyard - Sundots

2. Hostage master - Lil Ugly Mane

3. Brick - Alex G

4. I Got So Small - 100%

5. Riot - Earl sweatshirt

6. RICKY - Denzel Curry

7. I didnt want them - Benny Benji

8. XXX. FEAT. U2. - Kendrick lamar (feat. U2)

9. Lifes a bitch - Nas (feat. AZ, Olu Dara)

10. Creature - Black Dice

(As an extra 11. Line - Downward :3 )

Anyways i tag anyone who wants to do this :3

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reikunrei · 11 months

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this is a mostly pointless pet peeve of mine, but every time i see people talk about how Will and El have the same “tiger” plush, it drives me up the wall because they are lions

here's El's lion in a flashback with Brenner before she goes into the bath (left), and the same lion that Hopper finds when he breaks into the lab to find Will and goes into El's room (right). they are not striped, they clearly have fluffy manes, and are all tan and brown. this is a male African lion

here's Will's lion plush, both of which are found in the final episode of season 1 when Joyce and Hopper get to Castle Byers in the UD. again, you can clearly see they're both a solid tan color, and they both have brown manes that stand out against the rest of the body

here's the plush in scenes where Will is physically present at the same time, in episode 1 (left) and episode 7 (right) in season 1. to be fair, it's harder to see the details of these, which could lead to fun instances of timeline splits or differences in which he has either a tiger or a lion plush

for comparison, here's the tiger plush that belonged to Sarah

no big fluffy mane, stripes, and different colored eyes. the tiger has blue/green eyes, while the lions have golden-brown eyes. they are clearly made by the same manufacturer, because they sit in the same pose, and likely use the same base just with different patterns printed/painted on and different details added, but they are two distinctly different toys

what's interesting about the indistinct shots with Will present is that the plush could lean either way. they're mostly solid colors, leading me to believe it's a lion, but in the shot of it over his knee in the RSU, it has a faded pattern over its face (the lighter color that goes around the muzzle and eyes) that mimics that on the tiger. it also appears to have a little faded stripe going horizontal on top of its head (similar to the long stripe over the eye on Sarah's tiger), but that could also be the base of the mane causing a shadow. it also appears to have a slight hint of mane below its face, but it's too unclear for me to be confident in that. either way, it's a very well loved toy, unlike the pristine nature of both El's and Sarah's plush, so the fur could be matted down or stripes could be faded

in the shot in the UD, it's too blurry for me to pick out any distinct features aside from it appearing to be a solid color, maybe a little dirty and definitely matted down from the moisture in the air

however, the plush that Hopper touches in the UD is definitely a lion, and not a tiger. you can clearly see its dark mane going all the way around its neck

and that's not to say there's no tiger motifs tied into Will, because there's half a dozen tigers in his bedroom in CA in s4, so it's definitely not baseless to make connections with that. i just feel like i have yet to see anyone mention the lions, instead just calling them all tigers, which is utterly wrong. they might both be big cats, and it's fair to connect them that way, but they are not the same animal at all

i couldn't remember any other shots in which we might see Will's plush more clearly (i even looked in s3 when he breaks down Castle Byers in the rain storm but... no dice), but if anyone does, i'd love to see them or know what episodes they're in so i can find them myself!

this isn't aimed at any post in particular and i'm sure it's been pointed out before, but every time i see people mentioning the plushes, they always say they're tigers when the ones tied to El and Will are either clearly lions, or lean more toward being lions

#RANT OVER SORRY i went back and found these screenshots bc it was just driving me Fucking Crazy #pet peeve: going to the zoo and hearing ppl call all the big cats by their wrong names #they are not the same animal!!! please!!!!!!#i say things #stranger things #will byers #eleven #willel #eleven hopper #jane hopper

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thefrontofmymind · 2 years

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Modern!Eddie Munson Headcanons (x fem!Reader) 18+ MINORS DNI

a/n: are a lot of these projection and things based off people i actually know? i'll never tell they are AND in this universe, the kids are all fine and well adjusted, the teens are all friends :)

WARNINGS: some NSFW content at the end so feel free to skip that if you so please- READER IS IMPLIED TO BE 18+ taking/sending nudes, cum painting (?), somnophilia (a reach but kind of), size kink stuff sorta, only fans mention, sexting, dirty talk

General HCs:

- Went through a phase of listening to music exclusively on soundcloud but then realised how impractical it was and now uses free spotify

- Does hair masks once a month to keep the mane looking fluffy

- Tried to do a stick and poke on himself with a safety pin at 15 but chickened out so he just has 2 little dots on his ankle

- Uncle Wayne let him watch The Ring when he was way too young and he couldn’t sleep for a month afterwards, and occasionally he gets freaked out thinking about it too much

- Doesn’t know what letterboxd is even though Robin explains it to him every time she brings it up (sidenote: she brings letterboxd up A LOT because she’s on it constantly and her reviews always get tons of likes because they’re hilarious)

- Had one ear pierced but forgot to keep an earring in it and it closed up within a month

-Destroys everyone at Mario Kart, only ever plays as Waluigi (had to fight Mike for the right to be Waluigi, Mike now plays as Lemmy Koopa)

- His instagram is just videos of him playing guitar

- Go-to karaoke song is Tribute by Tenacious D

- Doesn’t understand the console wars but will go with whatever Dustin thinks is better

- Downloaded TikTok in 2018 when it was kind of edgy but deleted in 2019 when lots of people started using it

- Loves playing iMessage games (especially with Max, who always beats him at Darts and Connect 4)

- Wireless bluetooth earbuds user (but NOT airpods, like Raycon or something)

- HATES LED strip lights (thinks they’re overdone and tacky in 2022)

- Follows Ryan Reynolds on twitter

- Would start ironically using the crying-laughing emoji but now he can’t stop

- Game of Thrones stan for the first 7 seasons, was heartbroken with what happened with the last season

- Unironically loves Hairspray (2007), but claims it's because of the cultural significance and shit, but everyone sees right through him (ESPECIALLY Robin, but she loves it too)

- Cannot stand boba, they don’t feel right on his teeth and the pearls make him gag

- Still smokes cigarettes and joints, but also bought a dab pen just to see what it was like–not his thing, but it still sits in his glove box in his van

- Listen, Brennan Lee Mulligan is his hero, and he listens to like all his campaigns (even the badly censored Dimension 20 podcasts on spotify)

- Have a feeling (even though he’s a metal head) he would LOVE Dave Grohl, like just as a person, he’d vibe with the guy

- It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia stan, but he actually gets the show and has critical thinking about it

- He has like 6 different sets of DnD dice that he impulsively bought from Etsy, his favourite is this gold set with black lettering but he also loves the ones he has that are clear with red numbers and red flecks suspended in the plastic but it’s hard to read them sometimes

- For some reason I get the vibes that he would be obsessed with learning about Ancient Mesopotamia? I don’t know why I just think he would watch like every documentary about it–there may or may not be weed involved.

- Loves playing minecraft on rainy days

- Likes tofu, surprisingly! He loves it fried so it’s all crispy with a chilli sauce of some kind

- Still uses the DSI he got for his 11th birthday to play Pokemon

Relationship HCs:

- this man would make you so many spotify playlists, like his entire account is just different playlists for you, for all your different moods (even if your music taste and him aren’t exactly the same, he’ll still do some research to find songs you like that fit into the vibes of each playlist)

- his lockscreen is a photo of the two of you that he took on like your fourth date–its a selfie he conned you into taking with him because he’d just ‘found this snapchat filter that cracks him up’ (it was that filter with the sunglasses and the beards, you smile everytime you see his phone light up with a notification)

- also he has an instagram highlight with just photos and videos of you, you hate it but he REFUSES to delete it– “but baby, if I delete it, I’ll lose all those photos! I don’t have enough storage on my phone!”

- sometimes for fun (if you’re into it) you do his makeup. Like FULL GLAM as much as you can, just when you guys are bored and hanging out; you take a million photos of it and swear not to show anyone but you’ve definitely sent at least one to Dustin and now its just a matter of time until Dustin posts it as retaliation for Eddie cancelling Hellfire one week or something, you just know it

- one time he bought you one of those boxes from those sketchy dropshipping websites where like there’s a set of 2 and you can send drawings to each other with them. They worked for about a week but then your’s suddenly died and you were never able to turn it on again

- pretends it doesn’t affect him, but totally gets sad when you guys watch sad movies like Me Before You or Brokeback Mountain–he’ll say he has to go to the bathroom at the end of the movie but you totally hear him sniffling in there and you have to coax him out so you can comfort him

- would 100% let you paint his nails! He started out with only being comfortable with black, but then he let you add a red nail nail once, and then from there he wants you to do every colour imaginable (as long as it looks metal, so unfortunately no pastels)

- he went through a phase of only talking to you with the Apple Memoji thing, like every text you sent would get a reply of a video with that thing. Also it doesn’t look anything like him, it has blue skin and hot pink hair but he loves it and thinks its so cool

- When you first started dating, you were super awkward about your period, like you would NOT tell him when you were on your period until like one time you’re just going through it and can’t smile through the cramps so he takes care of you, and you tell him all about the different period things because he’s lowkey kinda curious and he wants to be knowledgable so he can care for you (like symptoms and also all the different products you can use, that’s mostly why I’m putting this in modern!Eddie, because of the more open dialogue and variety of products)

NSFW HCs (there’s not a lot I’m sorry):

- he only has snapchat because he has tons of photos and videos saved at memories and he doesn’t have enough storage to keep them in his camera roll. At least that’s what he says but really its because he has so many nudes–yours and his–in his my eyes only. Like dick pics he’s sent you, videos of you guys fucking, photos he took of you with cum splattered across your tits and your face, one of when you fell asleep naked and he couldn’t help but noticed how nice your boobs looked so he had to snap a pic, and the pièce de résistance of his collection–a video of your belly while you two were having sex where you can see his dick bulging out of your abdomen–he was just so enthralled by it at the time that he had to take a video so he could watch it again later, no matter how many times you told him he could just see the real thing

- Eddie would also be so down if you wanted to make an Only Fans, with or without him involved. If you wanted to go solo, he’d be all over his (private) twitter hyping you up, he’d even subscribe, saying he had to ‘support his girl’. And if you wanted to do some content together, he’d be over the moon–he’d be hard as a rock just thinking about it. And I imagine you guys would probably be pretty successful, as a metalhead with tattoos and a monster cock (because he’s PACKING) and his plaything, both switchy as hell, you’d honestly be raking it in lmao

- ok this man is also ALWAYS down to sext. Like you could be at your job, it could be like 3 in the afternoon and he would just send you ‘thinking about that pussy, feeling hungry’ and then just let you squirm for a couple hours. Or if he had to travel to the next town over for a Corroded Coffin gig (and you couldn’t go, let’s say you had an early morning the next day) and if he wasn’t driving the band, he’d be sexting you the whole way there and back, just torturing himself so the second he gets home he can fuck the living daylights out of you for teasing him as much as you were, though it was totally him who started the whole thing- And let's say in the middle of the night, you’re not staying at his place nor him at your’s and you just receive a voice memo with the caption, ‘don’t listen out loud’ so you grab some earphones and press play and it’s just the filthiest moans and laboured breaths and you KNOW he’s jerking off, whimpering your name and saying how much he wishes his hand was your pussy but he was just too desperate and at the end of it he asks if he can cum, so you just reply with ‘heading over now. Don’t finish til I get there xx’, and he does wait, and he gets lucky enough to cum inside of you, the place he loves the most

#eddie munson #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #stranger things

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wpdariacutnes · 2 months

Text

🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕

Me: radom duddle songs

🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕

Someone siren Bull a of hate someone body~

Sorry lame it you a been frends enifing back fact a come a copy pussy outs a your void it~

Is so selly camcom cherry loser yeah good a See tragets a wona forget it. . .

( play music)

Make frends a man's pussy out a can hate someone a club a none line

None me a alone me self hem care a look it had a next mean a suck them on

Let me look legs a forget a how she is enifing

How care enifing like lot midty pussy lie's

Make care you lest time

I gif prezent a never gif you goodbey a me void club high a only pallitery mean it

( yeah yeah good a See you and make dead frends lost sistem a hem but it~)

I not esperty a drunks a perfect it you lems grilfrend a corwn you a lest line

Let say dys wellcome a pussy up kill pussy high out lest care me get it a high drunks spink a siren so many me next line me

Im never push man a going slef a govit shit them sistem loser Bull on

Im never same a lanes lie a did nice a stabme like never see mind pycho kiss lest dayV a pussycat copy lames on

Sorry I never merry daddy copycat had kitty a care hazbent a self void it on a casino stanper party stanp body's

After girl say a spell a ex-frenda camcom pussy off me a void me a club Stell (you knows it yo it)

Enifing been self high siren care someone stop it Minty party and cry but whitches but it~

*robot nose* Like enifing push a someone make someone a witch's none had on a crae a hate enifing been someone body

Enifing knows a siren kiss me again and forget a get workse eat casino breeks guys~

Make someone camcom pussy off copycat a knows a so mean lines a care a good see you lames high care on ( si si care a do manes on me time a one a pussy one a care citcherixet off care note hiss it too) das Wall a crosee you face a care a dead rode a high club it lest care it lie. . .

Someone siren Bull a of hate someone body~

Camcom shader on me a high club~

Make care you lest time ( camcom nife back's a bal bla bla good a See you back kissing care for)

Make frends a man's pussy out a can hate someone a club a none line How care enifing like lot midty pussy lie's

( trabu trabu make me a mead a push a on im care it care bitch care bitch enifing vine me a cherry on tope a poppet it had wan it )

Sorry lame it you a been frends enifing back fact a come a copy pussy outs a your void it~

Dys a camcom a care bitch care bitch a enifing wineper eyes on

Lame stak a me one make line only me mean a yeah I edgy a make smoke bedass bitch bedass your left save bitch

A care enifing bal bla bla how hate you mean a linted stack a one?

Yeah a camcom code a bed witch suck copycat pussy lames cat hushy dead bitch bed bitch

(La-la-la i come self a loser a made dice 7 hush on!? * pycho lafing enifing*)

Someone reddy hushy a care cross a make you care a lost mean care out you a exprtesh it because a more bedass a good mean a care off

Reddy corsse good a void it a dead vanpire a care me corset it a dick out a coll enifing like family a fact but Stell fet selfs siren but it a never hishi a petty you a full down a care a skull a never dick out

Someone siren Bull a of hate someone body~

Make frends a man's pussy out a can hate someone a club a none line

A reddy a been a divret 7 a enifing simp it get it out cut witchs frends out's. . .

(only backrown music out)

🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕

Someone poppit Minty but it a full up and down so whatever ugh

Offical epic note: 22.02.2024.r

🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕🍒☕

#applelili_megaman_ver #megamancomunity #mereal #wpexpleing #parents take rule #youtube

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kahran042 · 2 years

Text

Contradictions to convict by

If you want to write a series of Two-Minute Mysteries/Encyclopedia Brown-style solve-it-yourself mysteries, here are ninety-four fun facts that could be used as clues. I wanted to have 108, but I just couldn’t think of that many. :(

1. A katana is a single-edged sword! 2. A Macintosh user would say "trash can," not "recycle bin"! 3. A professional chess player would say "knight/rook", not "horse/castle"! 4. A red sapphire is a ruby! 5. Alexandrite changes color in different lighting! 6. Alligators are only found in the United States and China! 7. American football and rugby both use oblong balls! 8. An international Street Fighter II champion would say "Boxer/Claw/Dictator", not "Balrog/Vega/M. Bison"! 9. Association football is called soccer in both the United States and Japan! 10. Basketball wasn't invented until 1891, and was written as two words until 1921! 11. Bats don't lay eggs! 12. Belgium's royal title is King of the Belgians, not King of Belgium! 13. Cacti are New World plants! 14. Calico cats are almost always female! 15. Cambodia is an elective monarchy! 16. Cats and Starlight Express both have characters named Electra! 17. Charizard/Gyarados is not a Dragon-type! 18. Chocolate is toxic to dogs! 19. Cologne is in Germany, not France! 20. Costa Rica doesn't have an army! 21. Crossbows use bolts, not arrows! 22. Dogs can't climb trees! 23. Dromedary camels only have one hump! 24. Electric eels live in fresh water! 25. Female lions don't have manes! 26. Ferrets are not rodents! 27. Frogs don't have scales! 28. Georgia is both a country and a U.S. state! 29. Heraldic dragons always have four legs! 30. Humans don't have gizzards! 31. Iolite and cordierite are two different names for the same stone! 32. It's impossible to land on Mediterranean Avenue on one's first turn in Monopoly! 33. James Buchanan was the only bachelor president! 34. Japan doesn't have a president! 35. Kangaroos can't walk backwards! 36. Lance corporal is not a U.S. Army rank! 37. Lions don't live in the jungle! 38. Little House on the Prairie and Thomas the Tank Engine are both the second book in their respective series! 39. Lord Stanley never saw a Stanley Cup game! 40. Louis XVI was the grandson of Louis XV, who was the great-grandson of Louis XIV! 41. Ludwig van Beethoven was deaf! 42. Macarons and macaroons are not the same thing! 43. Major is not an RAF rank! 44. Malachite is opaque! 45. Manx cats don't have tails! 46. Marie Antoinette was Austrian, not French! 47. Mario's first appearance was in Donkey Kong, not Mario Bros.! 48. Mercury and Venus don't have any moons! 49. Mercury is a liquid at room temperature! 50. Only six of the Pleiades are visible to the naked eye! 51. Ostriches don't bury their heads when scared! 52. Pablo Picasso was Spanish, not Italian! 53. Paella is Spanish, not Mexican! 54. Passenger trains don't have cabooses! 55. Royal, Prussian, and navy are all shades of blue! 56. School buses don't have seat belts! 57. Siam is an old name for Thailand! 58. Snowflakes are always hexagonal! 59. Sodium chloride is the technical term for table salt! 60. Spain was neutral in both World Wars! 61. St. Petersburg was the capital of Russia from 1732 to 1918! 62. Stags mate with hinds, not does! 63. Strawberries don't grow on bushes! 64. Texas was an independent country from 1836 to 1846! 65. Thailand and China don't share a border! 66. The barbarian is the only third-edition SRD class to use twelve-sided hit dice! 67. The book's title is Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, not Alice in Wonderland/The Wizard of Oz! 68. The British national anthem during World War II was "God Save the King"! 69. The capital of Australia/Brazil/Turkey is Canberra/Brasília/Ankara, not Sydney/Rio de Janeiro/Istanbul! 70. The Caspian Sea is landlocked! 71. The day before Boxing Day is Christmas Day! 72. The emergency number in England is 999! 73. The Erector Set wasn't invented until 1913! 74. The flags of Ireland and Ivory Coast use the same colors, but in reversed order! 75. The Japanese language doesn't distinguish between singular and plural forms! 76. The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia didn't exist until 1932! 77. The official language of Belize is English, not Spanish! 78. The original Mobile Suit Gundam wouldn't have been called "First Gundam" until Mobile Suit Zeta Gundam came out in 1985! 79. The plural of cyclops is cyclopes, not cyclopses! 80. The Space Needle wasn't completed until 1962! 81. The U.S. Flag Code wasn't published until 1923, and wasn't adopted by Congress until 1942! 82. The wife of an earl is a countess, not an earless! 83. There are cities in Maine called Paris, Dresden, Palermo, Vienna, Poland, Belgrade, and Lebanon! 84. There are no fish in the Dead Sea! 85. There are no mountains in Florida! 86. There is no such language as Swiss! 87. There is no U in Qatar! 88. Tigers are bigger than lions! 89. Ultima IX was the last one, but there were ten numbered Ultima games! 90. Uranus wasn't discovered until 1781! 91. Vermont is the only landlocked New England state! 92. Water, not Normal, is the most common Pokémon type! 93. Woodlice are crustaceans, not insects! 94. Worker bees are always female!

And here are some unisex names for anyone who wants to do a rehash or variant of The Case of the Dentist's Patient/The Case of the Missing Roller Skates: • Alex • Andrea • Ariel • Ashley • Avery • Carol • Chris • Dana • Dylan • Jamie • Jordan • Leslie • Meredith • Morgan • Robin • Ryan • Sam • Sandy • Sasha • Taylor • Toby • Yuri

#conviction by contradiction #fun facts #unisex names

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thecreaturecodex · 3 years

Text

Ukron

Image by Alberto Del Lago, © Asterion Press.

[Commissioned by @justicegundam82. This is my second trip into the Nephandum setting, an Italian 3pp D&D supplement from the 3.5 era. The first was the pothos. This entry had decidedly less flavor text, so the piecemeal translation of it into English was easier. Plus, the commissioner gave me a hook to work with--the idea that they create man-eating animals is theirs, and does not appear in the previously published version.]

Ukron CR 6 CE Magical Beast This creature looks like a nightmarish parody of a horse. It has two heads with sunken, skeletal features and needle-like teeth. Its hooves are sharp and cloven, and its mane and tail are the color of clotted blood.

Ukrons are carnivorous horses with two heads and a cruel intellect. They live in swampy environments, where they range out towards civilization to attack humanoid settlements and to force other animals to do the same. An ukron cannot magically control animals, but the disease it carries transforms them into raving, deadly beasts. Ukrons are able to contain their bloodlust long enough to merely wound an animal to allow its infection to take hold, but when fighting humanoid opponents they typically battle until slain.

Ukrons live in herds comprising rough family units. Battles within these herds for dominance are common, and can result in injury or death. They may ally with other creatures that spread pestilence and death, but are quick to remind them that they are allies, not pets. Ukrons are prized as steeds for their speed and endurance, but only magical compulsion can force them to bear a saddle if they don’t wish to. An ukron’s favorite foods include crocodile and snake.

Ukron CR 6 XP 2,400 CE Large magical beast Init +2; Senses all-around vision, darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +12 Defense AC 17, touch 11, flat-footed 15 (-1 size, +2 Dex, +6 natural) hp 69 (6d10+36) Fort +11, Ref +7, Will +5 Immune disease Offense Speed 60 ft. Melee 2 bites +10 (1d8+5 plus disease), 2 hooves +6 (1d4+2) Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft Special Attacks consume vitality, rend (2 bites, 1d8+7) Statistics Str 21, Dex 15, Con 23, Int 10, Wis 16, Cha 16 Base Atk +6; CMB +11; CMD 23 Feats Endurance (B), Multiattack, Power Attack, Vital Strike Skills Acrobatics +8 (+20 when jumping), Perception +12, Stealth +4, Swim +16; Racial Modifiers +4 Perception, +4 Swim Languages Abyssal SQ marsh stride Ecology Environment temperate marshes Organization solitary or herd (2-8) Treasure none Special Abilities Consume Vitality (Su) When an ukron reduces a creature to 0 or fewer hit points using its natural attacks, it gains a +4 enhancement bonus to Constitution that lasts for 1 hour. This only functions if the victim has equal or greater Hit Dice than the ukron. Multiple uses of this ability do not stack, but do extend the duration. Disease (Su) Swamp rabies; bite—injury; save Fort DC 19; onset 1 minute; frequency 1/day; effect 1d6 Cha damage; cure 2 consecutive saves. An animal reduced to 0 Charisma by swamp rabies does not fall unconscious, but gains the man-eating animal template and loses all Charisma damage over the course of 1 minute. The save DC is Constitution based. Marsh Stride (Ex) An ukron ignores all non-magical difficult terrain from mud, water, vegetation or other obstacles in a marsh environment.

#ukron #bad horse #nephandum #pathfinder 1e #commissions #D&D

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theeverlastingshade · 2 years

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Favorite Songs of 2021

100. Don’t Forget Your Neighborhood- Cola Boyy ft. The Avalanches

99. The Wishing Well- Ovlov

98. Year of the Horse Pt. 1- Fucked Up

97. Followed the ocean- Grouper

96. BNR- Crumb

95. Fantasy Island- Clinic

94. From the Back of a Cab- Rostam

93. Put It Down- Jazmine Sullivan

92. Yoshi’s Island (World 7x7 Mix)- glass beach (Clover & Sealife Remix)

91. Okay- Porches

90. Like I Used To- Sharon Van Etten & Angel Olsen

89. Burner Account- Open Mike Eagle ft. Armand Hammer

88. A Lament- The Body

87. Signal from the Noise- BADBADNOTGOOD

86. Embryo- Jlin

85. Thirstier- Torres

84. redguard snipers- R.A.P. Ferreira

83. Erased- Ty Segall

82. Chad- Isaiah Rashad ft. YGTUT

81. Hide Another Round- Dinosaur Jr.

80. Dark But Just a Game- Lana Del Ray

79. Meteor Man- Your Old Droog ft. billy woods & Lil Ugly Mane

78. Everything is Different (To Me)- quickly quickly

77. Give Up Your Life- Spirit of the Beehive

76. VBS- Lucy Dacus

75. Instrumental- Black Country New Road

74. Law of Averages- Vince Staples

73. Loss- The Weather Station

72. Pretty Boi- Hey, ILLY!

71. Dope Game Stupid- Brui$er Wolf

70. hold yourself- tUnE-yArDs

69. Snow White- Casper Clausen

68. It’s You- Strange Ranger

67. Czarwyn's Theory of People Getting Loose- MF DOOM & Czarface ft. Kendra Morris

66. Yellow Fever- Really From

65. Walker- Animal Collective

64. the rot- Dean Blunt

63. Hardline- Julian Baker

62. Roscoe!- Pink Siifu ft. Ted Kamal

61. Walking at a Downtown Pace- Parquet Courts

60. Buzzcut- Brockhampton ft. Danny Brown

59. Queen- Aeon Station

58. The New Normal- Madlib

57. Dear Saint Cecilia- Iceage

56. More- Low

55. Pain and Blood- Flying Lotus

54. Sekwar- Liars

53. BMT!- JPEGMAFIA

52. Invading the World of the Guilty as a Spirit of Vengeance- The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die

51. Harmonia’s Dream- The War on Drugs

50. Surviving a Smile- Sweet Trip

49. Tabula Rasa- Earl Sweatshirt ft. Armand Hammer

48. Joy- Hovvdy

47. Tuned Out- Black Dice

46. Swarovski- Porches

45. New Long Leg- Dry Cleaning

44. Chicken- Parannoul

43. Massa- Tyler, the Creator

42. New Romance- Beach House

41. An Iteration- The Armed

40. Diamond Stuff- black midi

39. Fiera- Arca

38. Time Escaping- Big Thief

37. Bad Son- Spirit of the Beehive

36. The Stellar Ray Theory- Mach-Hommy

35. Dark Gethsemane- Burial

34. Thumbs- Lucy Dacus

33. Vendetta- Iceage

32. I Don’t Live Here Anymore- The War on Drugs ft. Lucius

31. Narrator- Squid

30. The Way I Feel- Alien Boy

29. Polar Equals- Sweet Trip

28. True Love- Hovvdy

27. John L- black midi

26. Never Ending Game- Angel Du$t (Panda Bear Remix)

25. Love, Lovers- Lost Girls

24. White Ceiling- Parannoul

23. Crushed Velvet- Yves Tumor

22. Song in E- Julian Baker

21. Rapid and Complete Discovery- Spirit of the Beehive

20. Trash- Fuckin Whatever

19. 2010- Earl Sweatshirt

18. Slow- black midi

17. Prester John- Animal Collective

16. Control- Mannequin Pussy

15. Pink Funeral- Beach House

14. Manifesto- Tyler, the Creator ft. Domo Genesis

13. All Night- Low

12. The Door Is Closing- Spirit of the Beehive

11. Spud Infinity- Big Thief

10. Long Distance Conjoined Twins- Home Is Where

9. White Elephant- Nick Cave & Warren Ellis

8. movies for guys- dltzk

7. The 26th Letter- Mach Hommy

6. Infinite Josh- The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die

5. White Horses- Low

4. Sewn Together From the Membrane of the Great Sea Cumber- Home Is Where

3. There’s Nothing You Can’t Do- Spirit of the Beehive

2. Fewer Afraid- The World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die

1. Wilshire- Tyler, the Creator

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prismy-sprout · 4 years

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O&O Classes

Sci-Twilight Sparkle ⚙:

- Artificer: This class choice pretty much explains itself, Sci-Twi main attribute is having quite a handle when it comes to technology and creating gadgets, so playing a class that can create equipment and weapons it´s quite fitting.

- Wizard: Despite not being focused on magic as much as her Equestrian counterpart, she has a good understanding on how magic works on her dimension, making this class not that weird for her.

- Ranger: It´s a bit odd having a class that most of the time spents it´s time on the wilderness for a girl that pretty much lives on a lab, but, rangers can be seen as strategists aswell, by placing traps and gaining advantage over battlefield while staying on the back-line supporting her allies.

Pinkie Pie 🎈:

- Bard: Pinkie was born for being a bard, this class is designed to raise the party´s morale by the use of songs and rhythm, while also excelsing at roleplay moments such as getting their way by words and being overly charismatic.

- Cleric: Every adventurer party is always down to have a member that can keep them safe with healing and boosts, and since a safe party is a happy party, Pinkie is prone to doing things to make other people happy, so it wouldn´t be strange seeing her on this role.

- Barbarian: Barbarians are seen the most of times as unstoppable forces of anger and destruction, that mixed with Pinkie´s wild card-y and crazy attitude, can make for a small ball of anger and sheer hilarity.

Rarity 💎:

- Sorcerer: Sorcerers are pretty much like wizards, but instead of extensively studing the art of magic, they are naturally born with skills for using their disciplines, that fits Rarity in the sense that she got quite a lot of talent for what she does (fashion, as an example).

- Rogue: Not so much as the kind of rogues that she could consider as “ruffians” that go through the night pick-pocketing people and engaging on “dirty work”, but as the kind that with their high charisma are able to get valuable information from someone with a single conversation, or infiltrating on big events.

- Cleric: Some clerics are seen as part of the royalty and most of them uses gold accessories as part of their outfits, two things that Rarity totally has on her “favorite things” list.

Fluttershy 🦋:

- Druid: Fluttershy checks every single box on what a druid should be, since her first priority are the animals and nature itself, being able to communicate with them and even stopping their actions with “the stare”.

- Ranger: Rangers are like druids that take it upon themselves to protect the land on their own as forest keepers instead of only being part of the forces of nature, taking out her assertive side when needed.

- Cleric: Clerics have the main purpose to aid the injured, and Fluttershy being known for caring so much for her friends, it´s natural of her to be there to heal their wounds after an intense battle.

Applejack 🍎:

- Barbarian and Fighter: These 2 classes fall under the same category since they are all about going on the front-line and dealing a lot of damage to hordes of enemies, which fits to a strong girl such as AJ.

- Monk: Follows the same logic as Barbarian and Fighter, but, it has something else that would totally re-asure the idea of playing this class to AJ, and is the option of instead of using weapons, being able to fight with her bare hands, something that the user of the strenght geode might find as a good time.

- Paladin: Along with Fluttershy, AJ is the one from the Mane 7 who´s willing to put herself on the line if that means she´ll protect the party, but instead of protecting them by healing during the combat or at the end of it, she shields them, avoiding them of receiving any damage.

Rainbow Dash 🌈:

- Rogue: Having a natural rainbow colored hair is not the best attribute to go around without being noticed, but, who needs to go around sneaking when you are so fast and agile that no one nor their projectiles will be able to reach you or even strike you down.

- Ranger: It takes the agility from the rogue, and harnesses it to use a bow or a crossbow and strike down enemies that might be a problem to get from a close combat.

- Fighter: It takes the speed from the rogue, and put it on the front line by quickly taking on enemies and defeating them even before they have the chance to throw an attack of their own.

Sunset Shimmer 🔥:

- Warlock: Warlocks are seen most of the time like “bad guys” of the caster classes because their source of powers comes from selling their souls to a patron, which fits with Sunset´s past, BUT, it doesn´t mean that all warlocks has said conection with evil, such as the Feykind and Celestials, which fits to a redeemed Sunset.

- Fighter: Spell casting might be cool and all, but Sunset may not refuse the chance of instead of boringly stay on the backline where not that much happens, going out and fight sword to sword with hordes and hordes of enemies, where all the fun is.

- Paladin: It seems a bit like the other side of the coin considering her first class option is Warlock... because it is, but, Paladins are seen as wardens, and it fits perfectly to someone who bestowed upon herself the duty of stopping the magic leaking into her dimension.

Trixie Lulamoon 🔮:

- Wizard: She´s Trixie, therefore she´s obsessed with all that comes with magic, it being stage magic, or arcane magic.

- Sorcerer: Remember when I said that magic came to sorcerers just naturally? well, it´s quite fitting for someone who calls herself “great and powerful” to harness impresive magic skills.

- Warlock: Sometimes your own powers are not enough, so it doesn´t harm to take some powers from a source of questionable origins, like an amulet, right?

She might even multiclass all 3 and go all Wiz-cer-lock

(Trixie is pretty much the kind of friend who loves DMing)

Twilight Sparkle ✨:

- Wizard: Who´s the unicorn who has spend all of her life studing magic and even was granted to go beyond her limits and become an Alicorn? that would be Twilight, magic is her entire life, and so is wizard´s.

- Artificer: She might rely more on magic than anything else, but she clearly does not fall behind when it comes to technology, she even figured out how to keep the portal to the school yard permanently opened.

- Ranger: Same logic as Sci-Twi here.

#Twilight Sparkle #Pinkie Pie #Rarity #Fluttershy #Applejack #Rainbow Dash #Sunset Shimmer #Trixie Lulamoon #Sci-Twi #Mane 6 #Mane 7 #Mane 7 Dices #M-7D #MLP: Friendship is Magic #MLP: Equestria Girls #Friendship is Magic #Equestria Girls #Dungeons and Dragons

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greytoiletpaper · 4 years

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Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the same-ish street-siblings universe as First Contact by @cryptids-and-muses and @a-sketchy-character @streetsiblings (they’re still awesome). I present to you... Angst.

Drizzle | AO3

Chapter 2: Deluge

Felipe Garzonas falls.

Jason cannot find it in himself to care. The man was human garbage at best-

A shriek of anguish rents the air, a woman's, while the stalking man pounces on her and bays with his manic glee.

-and they were just going to let him go? No dice. Jason did not push him off the edge, but it’s still satisfying enough for him to know the man is gone now.

It is here, on this rooftop, that Jason understands that the horrors of the world can never be contained, only controlled. In what ways, he isn’t sure yet, but when he thinks of killing, all he can imagine is a figure adorned in a red helmet, ruthless and proud.

When Bruce takes Jason away from the scene, long crimson snakes flow off Garzonas’ body with the deluge, painting the face of Gotham.

Cass believes Jay when he says he didn’t kill Garzonas. He can lie like the best of them, but he can never hide anything from her. Bruce still doesn’t believe him even when she says as much.

“You’re a danger to yourself and the people around you,” Bruce is saying. Cold is the only way that Cass can describe his body.

For as long as she has been with Bruce, Cass has not thought of David. But looking at him now, a small, insidious part of the man that projects the urge to control (something she had only seen from David) starts to slip through. She is so thrown about what to think that she almost misses him firing Jay as Robin.

“No.”

“But Cass-.”

“No.”

Jason resists the urge to groan at his sister. Above them, the three names of his potential mothers are displayed clearly and brightly.

“I get why you don’t want me to. But think of what will happen if we manage to bring one! We could- we could-.”

“My brother,” Cass says, with finality. She gestures to the names (although ‘Sandra Wu-san’ in particular catches both their eyes). “Not theirs.”

Cass makes that stance she always does when she wants him to stop, her back hunched and her eyes pleading. He hates it when she does that, which is why he bites back a sigh.

“Fine. I’ll leave it alone,” Cass has been trying harder to get her smile right. Her effort shows when she gives him a mega-watt grin when he relents.

“My family, love,” She says as she hugs him before leading him away to raid the freezer for Neapolitan.

Later that night, Jason leaves his copy of Huckleberry Finn on her nightstand. He has to make sure that she doesn't think he'd left her behind when he goes. As Jason leaves the window wide open, his sole companion is the rain for the first time in years.

Gotham feels it as it happens. As the madman clubs her boy over and over with his crowbar. She feels every bruise, every bone that fractures, every act of pure, unadulterated cruelty inflicted on Jason.

Her eldest cradles the body, surrounded by a field of debris and smoke left in the wake of the monster that is the Joker. She washes the blood away with her tears.

When Cassandra wakes to see her brother’s prized possession on her nightstand, she instantly knows and never lets it go, even as the sky opens up in time with her tears.

As the casket lowers into the earth, she absently notes no rain, not a cloud in sight. Somehow, in the void that is the Jason-shaped hole in her heart, she realises he would have hated it.

“I think… I want to have my burial when it rains. Gives a whole ‘nother meaning to bleary doesn’t it?” Jason had confessed that once, a slight chuckle drawing from his chest. It fades as fast as it came. He looked away, then. “I don’t think I’d rest in peace without it.”

Cassandra fills the silence with the hymns of her tears – droplets staining the well-loved pages of the last piece of her brother – and hopes that it will be enough.

In her mind, her efforts are for naught when they devolve into wails as the first shovelfuls of dirt encase the ebony coffin.

The first thing she sees when she enters the cave is- is the atrocious thing. All the noise in the cave seems to phase out. The squeaking of the bats. The banter between Dick and Babs. The low murmurs of Bruce and Alfred in the corner. All she can focus on is the caricature of her brother in full view of everyone in the Batcave. She looks at it, and the world becomes a sea of pink and brown and white. The uniform he died in still bloody and ragged; all her thoughts a cacophony of wailing; iron on her tongue; roaring in her ears; she feels nothing in her but pain.

Jason Peter Todd

A Good Soldier

She hates it. Hates it with a passion because Jason was so much more than a soldier. He was her Jay, her brother, everything; all she has left of him is a small paperback and this disgusting mockery of his memory.

But he’s Batman, and he grabs her by the arms and pins her, even as her legs kick out viciously. She headbutts him and manages to push him off, nailing him square in the jaw with her knee as she flips back.

“Cassandra-.” Batman starts.

“Mine,” She snarls, eyes blazing and her hand pushing Bruce away from her. Even with the pads of his armour, she knows it hurts. She turns to leave.

“Not Robin. My Jay. My Brother. My Jason.”

Standing in Jason’s room, Cassandra closes the window he left open. She notices a picture frame on his nightstand. It’s of them, Huckleberry Finn spread between their legs and their foreheads pressed together.

Cass curls into a ball and clutches his treasures to her chest, sobbing because there is no rain to fill the vacuum she’s found herself in.

Far, far away, a man between worlds shatters the dimensions. The ripple disturbs Gotham, but she cannot deny her love of the results.

Gotham watches as her prodigal son begins his dramatic return; rising from below to walk above once again.

“So, is it really true that you took down Troia when you were only thirteen? All on your own?” The new Robin, Tim, is okay. Really. Cassandra just can’t look him at and see someone else in the uniform. When she doesn’t answer, the boy seems to fidget nervously. She doesn’t even know what his eyes look like.

“I–I guess, since I’m here to be Batman’s new Robin, I was hoping I could be the Robin to –.”

Cassandra doesn’t even let the boy finish before she leaves.

Jason wakes up drowning. It’s not water that enters his lungs, but an unnatural, sickly green liquid that vexes and rots and makes his body feel like he’s on fire. Nandra Parbat is where he is when he’s calmed down from being dipped into the Lazarus Pit, trapped in a fortress of assassins that want to mould a Bat into one of them. It’s an entirely different League.

This time, Cass is not here to keep them away.

When she meets Steph, Cassandra is enamoured because the girl smiles and laughs (except she still isn’t the same, no one is), almost just like Jason. But there are slight differences between the girl and her brother. Her hugs are great, but they don’t feel right. She smells like lavender instead of the rain. Despite how much the girl likes to joke with her, not one of them manages to draw out her smile.

Cassandra holds onto the girl like a lifeline anyway.

What bone she can throw, Steph has an uncanny knack of finding things that others take ages to locate, which is helpful enough for right now since Tim is still missing. It doesn’t help when Steph reads that Tim is in a warehouse with none other than The Joker.

He’s practising his aim when she comes in, almost plucking the gun out of his hand. Jason grips the girl’s arm and flings her over his back. Rose Wilson, a wolfish grin plastered on her face and snowy hair fanning under them, doesn’t even look fazed.

“Wow Jace, if you wanted to pin me you could have just asked,” His only friend in this place is what keeps him sane; when the Joker of his nightmares haunts the edges of his mind, she is there to let him know it isn’t real. Despite how different they are, she’s a breath of fresh air in this hellhole they’re in. He should probably tell her how he feels.

“You’re such a fucking chicken-shit,” Is what comes out of his mouth instead. Rose only smirks at him, silver mane and eyes with almost the same mischief his sister had.

“Your aim still sucks balls by the way.”

He growls, raising his arm to let his gun do the barking.

Ranting and raving greet her as she sneaks in through a window, a litany of nonsense and stammers echoing around the warehouse. She drops from the catwalk as silently as she can, but the madman obviously still hears her as his head bends at an impossible angle to look right at her.

“Oh. Look who showed for quality time with Uncle Jay!” She doesn’t mean to, but Cassandra flinches, and the Joker’s twisted grin shifts. Big mistake. “Oh? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” It takes every inch of willpower in her not to rasp the words, but Joker sees through it regardless.

“What? Don’t like my name?” The Joker pouts, but it looks more like a sneer. “It’s just me yaknow? Your Uncle Jay.”

Another flinch, and the Joker steps closer, a snake in the reeds.

“Mister Jay,” He’s stalking closer now; her body won’t move. “JayJay.”

“Jaybird,”

“Jay,” She is so still as the Joker seems to tower over her, his sick grin crueller and sharper (David flashes in her mind) than any other time she has ever seen it. Poison flows from his mouth like saliva as he croons.

“That’s what you called him, isn’t it? When he was still here, your precious Robin. Not this -,” He gestures to Tim, who is wide-eyed and struggling. “-phoney replacement. Want me to-? Let me tell-.” The Joker stops, frowning at the ground before continuing, his voice aberrantly low. “When I beat him over and over with that crowbar – pink with blood and brown with dirt over the white of his skin –, do you want to know what he was saying?

“The only thing that came out of that pretty little mouth of his was how sorry he was that he was for leaving ‘Cass’ behind.” The madman leers at her. “Was that you? Cass? I gotta tell you, the whole apology shtick got really boring after a while, but…

“I’ll tell you one thing. Something you can keep between just you and your Uncle Jay,” He leans in close to her ear. “I think that our Jay is almost just like me now!”

The madman cackles, his eyes sick and twisted, and his body is nothing but mania. Something in Cassandra, strained and twisted for the past three years, finally snaps.

She strikes him, harsher than she’s struck anyone ever before. So severely, she can feel his ribcage snap. His flesh becomes mince under her fists. He stumbles and contorts as she overwhelms him with every piece of her fury. The gale-force that is Cassandra Todd blows through the Joker, who laughs and laughs and laughs.

The monster scrambles for his gun, suddenly slick and focused. Cassandra snaps off the comic ‘Pow!’ that sticks out of the muzzle when he fires it at her. She backhands his face with the full force of her knuckles, knocking him down, and all he does is chortle. The Joker’s body twists and squirms as he is pinned in place. She raises the broken end of the comic and skewers his leg into the ground.

The Joker’s mouth froths. His eyes are bloodshot as he becomes more depraved and maunders yet, he’s still fucking laughing. Laughing as his spittle flecks onto every surface around them when he thrashes. Laughing even as she clenches the sides of his head and pulls. Laughing even as they both feel his flesh strain and shear as she tries to tear it off. The part of her that has so vehemently denied killing now cries for bloodlust. For this is justice, this is vengeance, this is for her, Jay. Cassandra, with all her might, prepares to wrench off the monster’s head and-.

And Batman pushes her off him. Batman blocks her assault on his body when Cassandra rebalances herself. Batman protects the god damn fucking Joker. She roars with her rage, her grief, and doesn’t even feel the sedative that Tim plunges into her side until it’s too late.

Glaring at Bruce, at Batman, all she sees from his body is fear and concern and all the latter is directed at the death-worshipping monster he cradles in his arms. Absently, before it all goes to black, she thinks she should leave. Leave without Batgirl, without Jason, without everything she has ever cared for.

She does, and like her brother, the tears of Gotham are the only family she has left.

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defjux · 4 years

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Defjux’s Top 100 Hip Hop Albums of The 2010s Took longer than expected but i said i’d get around to it so here it is: 100 of my favorite hip hop albums of the 2010s. Nothing objective about this list, it’s based entirely on personal impact and what albums I found myself going back to the most throughout the last 10 years. It’s my list, so of course that means multiple billy woods, Aesop, Ka, Jam Baxter, Elucid, r.a.p. ferreira, Mach-Hommy, Busdriver, Earl, zeroh, Danny Brown, Oddisee, Doppelgangaz, and Roots albums. I did put together a top 500 list on RYM as well so if there’s something you think is missing here chances are it’s on there somewhere. Also, feel free to let me know what some of your favorite albums of the decade were. Peace.

Chart w/ album titles included Top 500 list on RYM Spotify playlist

As always, you can click the title of each album and it’ll take you to a stream or bandcamp page where you can hear / purchase it 1. Aesop Rock - The Impossible Kid 2. Dark Time Sunshine - ANX 3. Billy Woods & Blockhead - Dour Candy 4. Jam Baxter - ...So We Ate Them Whole 5. Armand Hammer - Paraffin 6. Ka - Grief Pedigree 7. The Doppelgangaz - Lone Sharks 8. Cult Favorite - FOR MADMEN ONLY 9. Danny Brown - XXX 10. Busdriver - Thumbs 11. Shabazz Palaces - Black Up 12. Billy Woods - History Will Absolve Me 13. Zeroh - awfulalterations 14. Milo - who told you to think??!!?!?!?! 15. Avantdale Bowling Club - Avantdale Bowling Club

16. Mach-Hommy - Dumpmeister 17. Dr. Yen Lo - Days With Dr. Yen Lo 18. Mr Key & Greenwood Sharps - Yesterday's Futures 19. Melanin 9 - Magna Carta 20. Armand Hammer - Rome 21. CunninLynguists - Oneirology 22. Oddisee - The Good Fight 23. Big K.R.I.T. - 4eva Is A Mighty Long Time 24. Open Mike Eagle - Hella Personal Film Festival 25. The Roots - How I Got Over 26. Aesop Rock - Skelethon 27. Has-Lo - In Case I Don't Make It 28. Danny Brown - Atrocity Exhibition 29. Qwel & Maker - Beautiful Raw 30. Roc Marciano - Reloaded 31. Edward Scissortongue - Better.Luck.Next.Life 32. Billy Woods & Kenny Segal - Hiding Places 33. Earl Sweatshirt - Some Rap Songs 34. Mach-Hommy - HBO 35. The Doppelgangaz - Hark 36. Quelle Chris - Guns 37. Milo - budding ornithologists are weary of tired analogies 38. Hermit and the Recluse - Orpheus vs. the Sirens 39. L'Orange & Stik Figa - The City Under the City 40. Jam Baxter - Mansion 38 41. A Tribe Called Quest - We got it from Here... 42. Elucid - Save Yourself 43. El-P - Cancer 4 Cure 44. Kendrick Lamar - To Pimp a Butterfly 45. Black Milk - No Poison No Paradise 46. BADBADNOTGOOD & Ghostface Killah - Sour Soul 47. Blu & Exile - Give Me My Flowers While I Can Still Smell Them 48. Deca - The Ocean 49. lojii & Swarvy - DUE RENT 50. TheParadoxicalState - Dark City 51. Onry Ozzborn - c v p ii d 52. Busdriver - Perfect Hair 53. Zeroh - 0 Emissions 54. Super Chron Flight Brothers - Cape Verde 55. Cavalier - Private Stock 56. Slauson Malone - A Quiet Farwell, 2016–2018 57. Little Brother - May the Lord Watch 58. Freddie Gibbs & Madlib - Bandana 59. Milo & Kenny Segal - So The Flies Don't Come 60. Serengeti - Family & Friends 61. Captain Murphy - Duality 62. Lil Ugly Mane - Oblivion Access 63. Cities Aviv - Raised for a Better View 64. Death Grips - Bottomless Pit 65. Skyzoo & Pete Rock - Retropolitan 66. Emay - Ilah 67. Signor Benedick the Moor - El Negro 68. Jalal Salaam X ewonee - Past Lives 69. Pink Siifu - ensley 70. Yugen Blakrok - Anima Mysterium 71. Anguish - Anguish 72. H.I.S.D. - The Weakend 73. Kill the Vultures - Carnelian 74. MIKE - May God Bless Your Hustle 75. Willie Green - Doc Savage 76. Homeboy Sandman - First of a Living Breed 77. Royce Da 5'9 & DJ Premier - PRhyme 78. Oddisee - Tangible Dream 79. Noveliss - Kenjutsu Under The Moonlight 80. Earl Sweatshirt - I Don't Like Shit, I Don't Go Outside 81. The Roots - Undun 82. MEDSLAUS - Poorboy 83. yU - the EARN 84. clipping. - There Existed An Addiction To Blood 85. Jean Grae & Quelle Chris - Everything's Fine 86. Run the Jewels - RTJ3 87. Lupe Fiasco - Tetsuo & Youth 88. Elzhi & Will Sessions - Elmatic 89. Kendrick Lamar - good kid, m.A.A.d city 90. The Roots - ...And Then You Shoot Your Cousin 91. Code Nine & Purpose - Below Sumerian Skies 92. Your Old Droog - It Wasn't Even Close 93. Lushlife & Botany - The Skull Eclipses 94. L'Orange & Jeremiah Jae - Complicate Your Life With Violence 95. NICKELUS F & SHAWN KEMP - TRICK DICE 96. Paranom & Purpose - Life Outside The Frame 97. Freddie Gibbs & Madlib - Piñata 98. Sadistik - Haunted Gardens 99. JPEGMAFIA - Veteran 100. Benny the Butcher - Tana Talk 3

#music recommendations #top 100 #2010s hip hop #favorite hip hop albums of the decade #aesop rock #billy woods #ka #elucid #oddisee #the roots #r.a.p. ferreira #busdriver #jam baxter #armand hammer

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real-fanta-sea · 4 years

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MICHAEL APPRECIATION WEEK Day 7: Free choice

For this day, I have prepared something special - this fic was laying around in my drafts for almost a year and I’m so happy to finish and publish it!

The name is The leap of faith and happens after Michael falls to his dead during ending B. It is rather heavy and lacks happy ending + there is a mention of attempted suicide and canon death. It is not graphic, but some of you might prefer not to read about it and I think it’s fair to warn you. Oh, and the pairing mentioned is Trikey. For those of you who prefer AO3, click here to get redirected to the work. For the rest of you guys, just click on “keep reading”. Hope you’ll like it! 😊

The thunder rumbles through the air, vibrating everything in a deep and untamed matter.

“Michael! Let’s just-”

Michael looks up, trying his best to look tough while somewhere deep inside, he is scared shitless as the same thunder echoes through him. He’s holding desperately, palms sweaty, onto his life. Franklin, holding his forearm as hard as he can, let his mouth gape open in a shock. Finally, a true, fucking human emotion.

A few heavy, ice-cold raindrops dampen Michael’s forehead. This all feels too familiar, he thinks to himself. This time, though, he won’t wake up with a jerk, sweat pearling up on his back. This time, there won’t be anything else than a void, sucking him in. He won’t stare back at steel grey sky as it dissolves into his perfect white bedroom ceiling. Not this time.

Another lightning illuminates his final scenery. Michael peers at depth down below his feet and then back up to a familiar face. Franklin fights with himself - he can see it in his sharp sculpted face. The rain falls heavily now and drenches his cheeks, and the moist reflects red and white signal light high above their heads. How the hell did he end up this way? Here, up above his concrete grave? Up here, hanging down the chimney railing, with this snake of a friend being his last straw between life and death? And then, the sudden realisation washed over him like a cold tide. And then, without a blink or a second thought, he lets go. A pair of hazel eyes, troubled, terrified, torn and lost, sink down into darkness. “I won’t leave you, Mikey!” is a distant echo of a raspy, terrified voice in between the rain and thunder. “I won’t leave you, Mikey!” A fraction of a grin passes Michael’s lips “But hell was I more than ready to leave you…” is his last thought as he lets go and let the gravity pull him down.

“MICHAEL!”

The world slows down with the first agonizing beat of his heart. Raindrops around him freeze in place, fire red and shiny like a scattered bloody diamonds carrying his weight. A flash of lightning illuminates the terrified face above him, hand outstretched, desperately trying to reach for him but also knowing damn well it’s too late. Michael looks around him. Everything perfectly sharp and visible, tinted scarlet and blue, with every edge glowing wildly. The weightless eternity of his existence, just hanging above the ground in between his heartbeats.

Ba-dum

A flash of bright white light blinds him for a second before he realizes where he is. The smell of an old truck, speeding on a dirt road is something hard to forget, especially when the smell attacks his nostrils so violently through an open window. Michael looks around him. The insides of the truck are darkened against the painfully bright sun reflecting the crisp green and warm ochre outside. The fuel tank is almost empty, the gas pedal glued to the floor. A photo of a nameless naked girl printed on a car scent card, swaying in a breeze under the passenger seat. Plush dice furiously swinging from side to side on the rearview mirror. All of this is oddly familiar.

Michael dares a look in the rearview mirror. He stares into a pair of bright blue eyes, full of determination and perhaps a bit of fear. He could swear he knows them too. A strand of dark hair combed back neatly, falls down to them, making him blink and swing it right back. He looks at his hands and sees no ring, only a rim of the leather sleeve of his jacket. Inspecting it further, he sees a couple of sewn symbols as it hangs nonchalantly by the sides of his muscular torso. He grins stupidly as his eyes follow lines of muscles sticking up against a tight white fabric of his tank top. He continues to check himself as the engine roars and hot air breaks apart on his windshield. His jeans are as tight as his top, and sneakers just as worn out as they should be to still be called fashionable. “Wow, this can’t be me” he grins as he checks his face in the mirror again. No wrinkles. No worries. No assassins after his ass. Just a pair of bright, ocean blue eyes and a cocky smile of a kid who hardly knows what future lays ahead.

Michael laughs as he pushes the gas even further, stomping on it like a fucking maniac. The engine groans with pain but accelerates anyway. Suddenly, there is a horn ripping apart the perfect memory. Michael looks into a mirror curiously, frowning his perfect eyebrows, a faint wrinkle haunting his forehead. A second truck, with the same roar and even greater speed, emerges from the turn behind him and by the looks of it, the driver is furious with him.

“Oh shit, here we go again… Just perfect!” he swears below his breath and takes a sharp turn right just as the truck reaches the back of his own vehicle. There is a high pitched screech as the truck turn in top speed, trying it’s best not to fall oven, rolling on only one set of wheels before falling back on all six with an angry thud sound. “I must find the damn plane, it should be around here somewhere, fuck” Michael swears and feels a couple of sweats drops pearl on his forehead. He looks back into the mirror. The truck is behind him. Closing in. There is a familiar shine of a gun in the dark behind the windshield. “FUCK!”

Another turn. Another screech. Sweat. Curse. Heart racing. Heat. Engine roaring. Plane. Where is the fucking plane?

Michael literally flies over the top of a ditch as he desperately tries to land the truck on wheels and not on its side. There is a glimpse of shiny metal in the distance suddenly and his heart races. This is it. Just to get there before the jerk gets him. He bites his lip and stomps on the gas again, furiously, desperately. The metal of the plane shines again as he gets closer and he looks for a man he was supposed to meet. Somewhere down in his guts, there is a fear mixing with anticipation and stirring his insides like a bloody blender. He can’t wait to see him and be saved.

A pair of slender jeans-clad legs twitch impatiently in the shadow of the plane. There he is.

If it wasn’t for a fact he could destroy the plane, he would have never braked so hard and just circle around to get the look again and again forever. He could, in fact, do it - this is his memory so he could do whatever he fucking please - but everything feels too real, including the young man leaned back on the wing of the plane.

Something in his pose is so captivating Michael can not quite put his head around it. The man’s elbows are supporting him, placed on a grey painted wing. Leather aviation jacket with a maple leaf sewn on it, wrinkled on his shoulders which were as wide and strong as his chest showing below his a worn-out t-shirt, yet slender and elegant as the line of his body run down to a perfect waist, accented by a belt of his jeans. One hip slightly raised as he relaxed one of his long legs, probably to even the weight of his heavy boots. Michael inhales deeply and gulped down something that feels almost like… Well, he can’t name it, but the look is captivating. The man looks in direction of the other truck, so Michael has a couple of seconds to study his face. It is framed by a thick mane of brown hair, and aviator shades, too big and dark to see his eyes properly. His nose as sharp as his cheekbones and jawline, with a trace of baby fat still there, giving him a dangerously adorable look. Where Michael loses it are his lips - full and with cupid’s bow curved in a perfectly kissable way, almost unreal for a man to have. Compared to his thin line of a mouth, these lips are angelic. Something deep inside of him awakens with a roar and the feeling of warmth fills him up completely, as he looks at the young man’s face again.

“Trevor…” he hears himself whisper. “T…” as tender as the letter can be, escaping his lips all over again to numb the sharp pain in his chest. What exactly is this feeling? Did he always feel this way about Trevor? Is his dying mind playing tricks on him?

He loses himself in a plump curve of Trevor’s lips for a moment once again before he’s torn from this perfect world with a wild screech of brakes and violent blow of a horn.

“Come out right NOW!” A hoarse voice calls from the other truck as a middle-aged man does his best to get out of the driver’s seat. Michael caught the sight in the mirror. While he takes a deep breath he kicks the door open and jumps out of the truck.

“What’s your problem, old fart?” he yells, as cocky as he possibly can to cover how fucking frightened he really is, puffing up his chest, putting up a toothy grin and holding onto his hips to appear larger. “Can’t get it up so you drive all the way here to beat my ass for fun?”. The old man clenches his fists, squaring up his shoulders and cracking his neck. Michael blinks a couple of times as he watches the familiar figure step out of the shadow of the truck. As the man moves closer, Michael’s cocky grin freezes and slowly twists into pure horror. The man raises his head and if there ever was a bit of doubt in who it was, it vanished right into a face of the impaling summer sun.

It’s the older version of him. De Santa part of his soul, peering right back at him through a familiar frown with all the self-hate and beast-like cruelty written all over his wrinkled face. Michael’s mouth opens and closes in a shock. Is this who he has become? He can still remember all the things he did in his life as if his old self got caught up in the young body. He remembers, gets glimpses of memories, but it’s not the same thing as to face who he inevitably grows to be. De Santa looks him in the eyes as if he knows exactly what he is thinking about with an evil grin. As fast as he can, without blinking, De Santa raises his gun and points it right at Trevor.

Michael gasps. “What the fuck are you doing, you prick?”

Trevor flinches and presses his back against the plane with a deep growl.

“Put that down or I’ll make a pudding out of your brain right fucking now!”, Trevor utters with the only gun he could retrieve from the plane in a second, which, to Michael’s eternal amusement, is a fucking flare gun. De Santa shows a couple of teeth as he grins at Trevor. “The only thing I want is a second to talk to my little friend here. Don’t be stupid, Trevor, and give me a chance to make things right for both of us” The man with a flare gun raises his eyebrows and lowers the gun a few millimetres before raising it again. “Fuck, I don’t know where you heard my name or who snitched it but I swear to god if you botch this job you won’t see the sun up tomorrow you cake filled fuck face!”

Michael chuckled as he heard Trevor give his older self familiar names. He really let himself go too far to be called fit and made a mental note not to waste his second chance in life to eat the hate away. De Santa seems pleased as well, a heartwarming smile crossing his lips before they are solid and serious again. “Michael, I know what you felt back then, and what you feel now. I know you are going to chase it until you lose interest and leave a broken shell. Wasn’t it your... our favourite pastime after every game? Get a girl, get the most of it for a week and then ditch her without a second thought?” Michael blinks and searches for rusty memories. With eyes wide and lips pursued, he nods. “You see Trevor there? He’s not a stupid cheerleader you can play like a fiddle. Even now, with this badass facade of his, he feels something for you.” Trevor fidgets uncomfortably and Michael catches with a corner of his eye how Trevor swallows and lets his lips part for a second. Fucking Bingo.

“And you feel it too. That is a serious business, Michael.” De Santa pauses to raise his gun again. “You know what happens in future, don’t you? Say a word and decide - should I kill him and let you forget, get a normal life with normal wife and normal kids, the one you’ve always wanted…” he pauses to turn to Michael now, who instinctively raises his hands and stumbles a couple of steps back with a gun pointed at him “or should I kill you both to get this Shakespearean shit over with before it even begins? We both know too well what he means to..to us.” Michael exhales and feels the world slow down once more as he watches a tear roll down De Santas expressionless cheek and turns to Trevor. The wind plays with Trevor’s hair and his hands shake as he throws down his shades. A pair of amber eyes, wide with awe, pierce him with the same question. Growing old with or without him? Can he bear living without his precious punk? Can he let all the memories slip right out of his mind and fill it in with a long line of one night stands and even longer lines of coke? Oh, and why does his chest clench so much? Could it be...love?

Michael inhales carefully and turns back to De Santa, with time raging in the normal speed now. “Kill me. You know too well I could never live without him by my side.” A hot blow of wind carries a sound of a trigger, sudden and unforgiving. Michael blinks and watches a flare screw into De Santa’s eye, as he pulls the trigger too. The bullet licks his ear and jams with a hiss into the truck behind him. A high, blood-chilling scream pierce his ears and adds to wild pounding in his ears. Right before his wide eyes, De Santa’s body is fighting inevitable, hands trying to pull the flare out, only to help it dig deeper. Burned flesh and skin shed dreadful black shreds onto the dirt below their feet. Deep grey smoke fills the air with sweet stench and cries right out of hell. And then, silence and a pair of terrified amber eyes, vanishing into another flash of light.

Ba-dum

Michael opens his eyes to see a mouldy ceiling of a random motel, illuminated with a mix of orange, pink and blue neon light splattered across the room. His body feels hot but exhausted at the same time, gradually allowing him to sink back to full consciousness. He looks around, blinking to get rid of heaviness on his eyelids. Stark naked, his skin shiny with sweat, brilliantly white, glowing with reflections of light as a perfect opposite of the damp dark sheets.

Michael turns to his side, instinctively looking for a pack of cigarettes. He has always had one ready on a nightstand wherever he went and remembers this too well. He has always smoked after sex, he realises with a smug smirk and almost makes it to the pack before a pair of tanned arms wrap around him. A deep “Mikey...don’t leave me” comes from behind him, half snore, half sleep talk. Michael freezes for a second before turning around to make sure the deep, smooth voice belongs to the man he thinks it does.

Just as he remembered, Trevor stretched his arms in his sleep, for once looking peaceful and even angelic in all his content and innocence. He looks like a child, curled up on his side, hair in his mouth, stuck to open lips with a string of saliva. Eyes shut, barely moving, eyelashes long and shaking to the rhythm of his own light snores. “Mikey” Trevor whimpers again and curls even more, clutching the blanket, brows knotting. “Shh… I am right here,T” Michael whispers, and as gently as he can, brushes the lock of hair out of Trevor’s mouth. Trevor smacks his lips and smiles sincerely from his sleep. “I love you, Mikey...”. Michael jolts a bit but tries his best not to wake his sleeping companion. Was this even the same memory, or is his dying mind making a damn fool of him? Has Trevor actually said that? He blinks a couple of times, supporting himself with his elbow on his side as he brushes Trevor’s cheek absentmindedly with his fingers. With wide, serious eyes, Michael observes the goosebumps on Trevor’s arm, showing with each end every careful stroke of his fingers. Trevor’s snores and low mumble gives him the strength to continue down his neck, fingers outstretched, tracing smooth skin below his fingertips. Trevor moans from his sleep when Michael’s fingers gently brushed past his nipple. “You always had a soft spot here, T” Michael whispers under his breath and let his aching heart rule him for once. All the uneasiness and tense are suddenly gone as his tongue circles around his lover’s chest. The skin below him is salty and hot, and the taste lingers on his tongue, driving him mad. His hand wanders down the outline of Trevor’s body, tracing down his abdomen to find what he is looking for. Trevor’s cock welcomes his hand with a jolly throb and fit into his palm much better than he would ever admit. “Mmm” Trevor moans and arches his back, biting his lower lip “so much for sleeping with a horny cupcake beside me, huh?” and greets Michael with a toothy grin “Ready for round two, pork chop?” Michael chuckles, stroking Trevor slowly but firmly “I was born ready, baby” and let himself be pulled into a kiss.

The room dissolves around them as Michael seals his lips with Trevors, and some kind of force pulls them both up, right into the star painted indigo sky. His lips desperately caress and sucks Trevor’s and his tongue explore and swirls with a hunger he has never felt before. Just the kiss, just the taste, just the sensation is enough for him to forget who he became, where he belongs and what he was about to do in a couple of years in this reality. It is just his lips and Trevor’s lips under the moonlight and everything feels right in the centre of this universe.

He pulls back eventually, gasping for air, licking his lips frantically not to waste a bit of the heavenly taste of his lover’s lips, fading back to the stained sheets. Trevor pants below him, lips curved into a toothy, genuine smile he has only seen once or twice before. Michael can not help but smile back, cupping Trevor’s cheek with one hand, running his thumb alongside Trevor’s lower lip. Trevor purrs deeply under his touch, staring right back to his eyes. Michael feels something building up around his heart - a heat that could only mean one thing. “I love you too, Trevor” he exhaled, voice deep with honesty. With a smile, he watches the change in Trevor’s expression, eyes dark and wide, mouth open in shock. “What did you just…” Trevor gulped, tears collecting in his eyes as he crawls away from Michael’s touch. Michael’s chest suddenly hurt as if someone squeezed it. “Shh, I mean it - trust me, Trevor. Just trust me, baby, ok?” Michael whispers with a smile still playing around corners of his mouth, but not as certain as it was a second ago. Trevor jerks and jumps of the bed, retrieving slowly towards the window.

“Why are you always like that, Michael? So fucking full of lies” His voice trembled as much as his knees. Michael’s eyes look his body up and down, and only welcoming part is his dick, twitching, helplessly calling for a fondling hand “Why do you do this to me?”

Michael blinks a couple of times, trying hard to remember what he did to earn this reaction. As far he knows, this was one of those nights they spent together, drinking or drugging, crawling on top of one or the other, riding the hell out of the high, bodies twisted into a hot, sweating mush. It won’t hurt to ask, right?

“Trevor, calm down. What the hell happened to you?” his voice firm and certainly more annoyed than he had meant it to be. Trevor puffs up, clenching his fists. “What happened to me? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO ME?” Michael stiffens as a shockwave of Trevor’s angered roar washes over him, leaving him speechless.

“Are you serious? You have a fucking audacity to ask me what happened with that knocked up tramp waiting for you at the altar now? What the fuck am I to you then, huh? Am I just a fun old cheap bitch you fuck after a score? A toy you toss away when it doesn't comfort your taste anymore? Or.. or a dumbass to do all the dirty work for you just for a meaningless fuck?” Trevor’s voice trembles again, but only to gather enough strength to rumble through paper-thin walls again. “I am not stupid, Michael. I can see the pattern. You get high, you tell me you love me, fuck me and then you sober up and get on with your oh so great denial only to do it again and again. You dance around in your pathetic suit pants, killing anyone calling you a faggot! Oh, and while you are at it, you knock up a hooker and marry her just to show everybody you are a good old boobs’n’snatch family guy. Do you want your American dream family with a coke-snorting bitch and a batch of white trash bastards? Well then be my guest and get the fuck out of here, Michael”

Trevor kicks the door open, spitting his name out with a sting of disgust that lingers in the air long after it is said. A familiar blue haze of Michael’s anger pierces right through him and floods his system. With clenched fists, he springs up. “Okay, whatever, dipshit. Just make sure you are not late tomorrow” is what escapes Michael’s lips, without him even noticing. Something constricts his chest as he pulls up his jeans and throws his t-shirt over his head, facing Trevor. There are wet trails on his cheeks for sure, but something dark creeps behind them. Michael looks up to see two broken mirrors of amber eyes, staring back at him. For once, he feels the urge to fight the memory and stay. Stay a little longer. Cup Trevor’s face in his hands and tell him he won’t ever leave his side. Tell him he means what he said and they should elope, riding scooters hand in hand to the sunset. Trevor’s sob brings him back to reality as he approaches him carefully. “Trevor, I’m sorry…” is the last thing he utters before the memory fades in the familiar explosion of white light.

Ba-dum

Michael blinks as he opens his eyes, looking around. He hardly recognizes the surroundings - judging by the scattered tombstones, people hunched down dressed in black and a thick layer of snow, he is somewhere up north, and on a goddamn cemetery. With all the white around him and heavy snowflakes falling down from a steel-grey sky, he should have been frozen solid at least 15 minutes ago, but somehow, he feels fine. Weightless even. There is something odd in a way people pass him by, without noticing him standing there, walking right onto him “Hey, watch it!” he hisses as an old lady walks right through him, leaving but a swirl of air where an outline of his torso was a second ago. Her sniffs and crunches of fresh snow under her shoes fade out into a deepening silence. She didn’t even notice, did she?

Michael looks at his hands, terrified. They are... translucent? What the hell happened to him? Is he a ghost? Michael’s eyes widen and his mouth fall open. Did he die already or what? With a deep breath of crisp air, he once again raises his head and scrutinizes his surroundings. His head feels like it might explode with all the wild ideas and questions swirling inside it. Has he ever been here before? The place seems familiar. Why is he here? Is it somehow significant? Michael inspects the closest tombstone on his right and chuckles lowly. Of fucking course. This was his grave. Michael fucking Townley’s grave.

This is where the boy from the nameless Canadian airfield lays along with his dreams and ambitions, dressed in his old football gear. What’s left is a ghost, a memory, levitating in the air, thinking about what went wrong with his life to end up like this. Hated, hunted, betrayed by a man he considered his son, left by the one he called brother.

A muffled sob from behind him makes him jump and turn around. A tall man in a stained thick coat looks right trough him and brushes his nose with a hand dressed in an old fingerless glove. Michael stares at him in awe - what the hell is Trevor doing here? If he is right in his assumption and the grave is still too fresh, the place would be swarming with FIB agents, waiting for those stupid enough to come his grave. Michael raises his hands to place them on Trevor’s shaking shoulders, but in his new form, his palms go right trough them only to fall back to each of his side. “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, TREVOR!” He tries as a feeling of panic raises within him. The taller man not even flinch. “TREVOR!!!”

The only answer he gets is the sound of teardrop crash landing in the snow beneath his feet. It is the first time Michael notices the broken posture and his shaking chin, with a stream of tears flooding it. It is the first time he sees Trevor truly broken. It is the first time he sees what Trevor meant when he told him he loved him.

“I know you hate it when I’m crying Mikey, but I… I just can’t help it” Trevor uttered in a high, shaky voice. “I’m just so sorry!”. Michael instinctively jumped when Trevor fell to his knees where he would stay if he had a real body, not holding back anymore. “I’m so sorry Mikey! This is all my fault!”

Even in his current form, Michael’s chest tightened. He has never admitted he hated to see Trevor cry only because it hurts him a great deal, and now with his closest friend kneeling broken on his alleged grave, the pain comes uninvited and sits on his back as heavy as a fucking mountain.

“If I… If I stayed... if I was the one who helped Brad you could…”

“No, Trevor. If you stayed, you would be dead. Don’t blame yourself for my fuck ups.”

“It’s funny, I can almost hear you now, you know?”

Michael freezes on the spot. Could it be... “Trevor, T, can you hear me?”

A low chuckle escapes Trevor’s mouth before it is muffled by sobs once again.

“Yeah, I know, it’s bullshit. Of course, I cannot hear you. I am just imagining things, I guess... I just want to hear your voice once again. I want to hold you and kiss you one last time. Remember that time,” Trevor blows his nose and takes in a deep breath, finally getting a grip of his crying “Remember when we stopped by a lake in the middle of nowhere, and you wanted to go swimming? How we planned to stay for a night but ended up camping for a whole week? I’ve never told you how beautiful you are in the morning light - I just called you a fatso then and you smashed my head with a pan.” Corners of Trevor’s mouth twitch with a shy smile upon the memory. Michael just watches him, desperate to hold him close and never let him go. Of course, he remembers the summer of ‘89 and the glint in those amber eyes whenever they watched him. He remembers the bubbly laughter, flat beer and the smell of campfire in Trevor’s hair when they made love.

“Remember how we drank so much we started slow dancing at midnight and the sky reflected in your eyes? That was the first time I told you I love you. You laughed and shrugged it off. But I meant it then and I mean it forever.” Trevor’s tears easily tear down his weak self-control and make his fists hit the ground with crushing force. “You told me I had no idea what love is, but I do, Michael, I DO!” A sudden yell made a couple of other people increase their pace and turn around in fear. “AAAARGH, I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH MIKEY IT TEARS ME APART!! I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT YOU!”

Only now that Trevor hunched over the grave has Michael noticed a rope, resting stuffed into one of Trevor’s coat pockets. Oh no. Oh fuck. What is he going to do? Is he really going to… “TREVOR!”

The man in question just let tremors run through his body, hunched over the grave.

“TREVOR! DON’T TELL ME YOU WANT TO HANG YOURSELF!”

The only answer is the man slowly rising to his feet, chin pressed to his chest, dirty hair falling to his eyes.

“T, PLEASE, I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!”

Trevor turns his gaze from the tombstone to an oak and its bare branches, standing mortified in the far end of the cemetery.

“NO, T, DON’T DO IT! I AM RIGHT HERE, PLEASE T!”

Corners of Trevor’s mouth twitch in what could be a smile, but Michael knows deep down it is relief. With the love of his life dead and gone, the world turning its back on him, with no future whatsoever, Trevor wants to go down the path of the last resort, the path Michael dreads.

“T, PLEASE!! I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU PLEASE DON’T!”

An easy, tired smile settles on Trevor’s lips.

“Today is different, Mikey. I think I really hear you now - it is as if you said you loved me and wanted me to stay. But we both know I can’t love a whisper in the wind. You are here now and in a second you are gone. As always.”

Trevor takes a few steps, crunching of the fresh snow piercing the darkening sky.

“I want to be there with you, to see you and feel you the way you let me when we were young and high.”

Snow under Trevor’s feet listens in fear of what is it about to witness. Michael reaches out but fails to get hold of his friend once more. Trevor’s shoulders tense for a second before relaxing once again with a heavy sigh.

“Please don’t try to stop me, Michael. I have nowhere else to go. I need you.”

Trevor’s steps grow frequent as he inevitably approaches the tree and halts right in front of it, his fingers brushing over the smooth cold bark.

“Goodbye, Mikey. For now. I’ll see you in a few.”

Michael’s panic rises to levels he didn’t think were possible. He knows he can’t help Trevor, he knows he can’t reason with him but fuck him if he does not try to save him.

His eyes frantically search for someone, anyone he could call and alarm. The cemetery is almost empty. The only sound is the soft swish of snowflakes and screeching of Trevor’s boots as he climbs the tree to fasten the noose. There must be someone here - Michael knows his grave is the perfect moth trap - and fuck him if he’s wrong but there is a familiar figure leaning against the metal fence. “Oh shit, it can’t be…”

Dave Norton has just returned from his afternoon break with a cup of steaming coffee and a fresh issue of Los Santos Times when a strange touch of ice-cold air on the scruff of his neck makes him shiver. It’s not like he’s not used to long hours in freezing temperatures, but this one is oddly different. He puts down his cup and traces the back of his neck with hot fingers, but the snowflake he is searching for is nowhere to be found. “Oh well, whatever. Just a wind.” He thinks as he grabs for a cup when is suddenly tumbles over and spills all the coffee into the snow. In many years he has been an agent, Dave learned not to be surprised by a lot of things. Tax evasions, sex scandals, terrorist threats. It all shaped him in a twisted way and let him harden enough to act cold and precise in any situation he happened to be in. But this shit, it surprised the fuck out of him. He didn’t even touch the cup! There is absolutely no logical explanation of why it would bounce up and spill like that except for something grabbing it and letting go. Suddenly, the cold sensation was back and made little hair on his neck stand up in fright. Turn around. Look behind you. Turn around and look now. Those words bounce inside his head as if it was a pinball board and someone stubbornly added more and more balls to it. His head throbs, fighting the intrusion to no avail. In one bright flash of white light, a simple sentence appears right before his eyes: Turn around PLEASE!!

Ok ok, he’s turning NOW and… oh shit…

Michael has never felt this spend and tired in his life. He can barely see the outline of his own ghostly body now as it slowly dissolves into the void. Even if he wanted, he would barely give a fuck with the scene right before his eyes.

Dave stands below Trevor, forcing him up and back onto the branch. Trevor’s reddened face is damp with tears and his voice is hoarse when he shouts at Dave and begs him to let go, kicking a couple of times. Dave grabs for his gun and cuts the rope with a couple of shots that echo through the dark and bounce from one grave to another. Trevor falls into the abused snow below him with a loud thud and curls up in a fit of pained cry that makes Michael feel like shit. It is all his fault. The dark purple ligature mark in place of Trevor’s future “cut here” tattoo screams at him accusingly what his own mind has offered him so many times he stopped counting. He always put himself first and made people who cared about him miserable. If only he could lay beside him if only he could comfort him, if only he was given a chance to tell him how much he loved him, how much he cared, how sorry he was for things to come to this end. His final thought before he dissolves in the crisp air is of a pair of warm amber eyes looking up at him with so much love and care it makes him shiver. “Please forgive me, T.”

Ba-dum

A flash of bright white light led him back to his body this time. A roar of thunder kick-started the time. The shining diamonds of the raindrops hit the ground with a final splash before glazing the concrete with a red light covered wet coat. Up above him, Franklin curses. What a nice kid. “I forgive you,” he thinks as he braces himself for the impact. “I have the death I deserve” When Michael feels the cold touch of death on his back and draws in his lasts breath, the pure white light shines back in time with his racing heart, each flash brighter than the one before. All the pictures of his life run before his eyes - the first time he saw Trevor, the first time they kissed, the birth of Tracey, her first laugh and first uncertain steps, Jimmy’s first words, years of denial, broken promises drowned in whiskey and his recent flashbacks. He is about to die with a regret, Michael notes with a bitter taste on his palate - and that would be to make all of this right. If only he was strong enough to see past his beliefs and just let things happen as they were meant to be. If only he could turn back time, hug Franklin and let him handle things the way he wanted, call Amanda and let her go figure out her own happiness, give his children enough money to go to college and live on their own and then run into the pair of arms he sorely missed. If only he could tell him how sorry he was and how much he truly meant to him. He would hold Trevor close right there, in his ramshackle, grim-soaked trailer, stroke the summer heat out of his hair and whisper his feelings right into those beautiful ears. Yet another strike of thunder reminds him of what happened in the cemetery and the last teardrop escapes his eye and slips down his cooling cheek only to join millions of its kin on the ground as he exhaled one last time.

I love you, M. “I love you, T.”

#MichaelAppreciationWeek #fanfiction #gta 5 #GTA V #michael de santa #trevor philips #franklin clinton #dave norton #ao3 #real_fanta_sea.fic

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eccentricpony · 4 years

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Hi, your kaomojis were so cute! UwU Could I request a movie theater date hc with Tenma? ty!!

Hey anon, thanks for visiting my page! I’d be happy to write this for you! I’m going to write in the style of bulleted imagine if that’s okay. My writing style is usually a usually a little campy humorous, a little emotional, a little sexy, and sometimes flowery.

I apologize if my tenses changed, or the style changed, but I just wanted to have fun with it. Maybe possibly a tiny bit implied NSFW but not really.

· You were determined to take Tenma to a movie theater as soon as you had found out he had never been to one.

· Despite his fame, you had learned that this child star beau of yours had missed out on many opportunities that you had taken for granted growing up. Your boyfriend was an odd blend of mature and immature due to his isolation and the pressure to manage a full-time profession at the age of seven. Fame has a price, as they say.

· He was hesitant at first – visiting a heavy traffic social scene meant donning sunglasses, avoiding eye contact… but you had already figured that part out! You’d be soliciting Monster Movie Night at the old theater-turned-cinema in the town square. You were sure Tenma would appreciate the 19th century theater aesthetic, and it was sure to have less attendees than the cinema at the mall.

· And what better movie genre to experience in an old, darkened theater than a classic horror!

· Yeah, no, Tenma was having none of that.

· He claimed that the movie you chose had received bad reviews.

· You then forwarded him the 97% fresh rating from RottenApples.com.

· He argued that the antagonist of the film was an actor he had worked with before and it would be “too weird” to watch someone he knew go on a killing spree.

· You proceeded to locate said actor on IFDB.com to find that he had passed away two years before Tenma was born.

· The lake of excuses having run dry, Tenma agreed to pick you up at 1pm that coming Saturday.

· Tenma was a bit more fidgety than usual in the back of his family limo. You assumed that it was date night jitters, which was so very precious. The old-fashioned theater marquee came into view, and you excitedly shuffled closer to the window. Nightmare on Birch Street! It had been ages since you had seen the film, and you couldn’t recall how the victims had all been killed… was it Chauncey who had been impaled by the school flagpole? You continued to jabber excitedly, the exhilarated sentiments floating through your head remaining unscathed as Tenma had the common courtesy to feign a cough so you couldn’t glimpse his sour expression.

· The journey from the ticket kiosk to the theater was uneventful. There were a few stares, and a “Aren’t you that kid? From the show? At that school?” but you made it to your seats in under 10.

· Wow, they really renovated this place! It was a bit sad to see that the creaky wooden seats of the theater had been replaced with cushy, high-tech armchairs, but it was comforting to know you wouldn’t be suffering a butt-ache following the film.

· Immediately, Tenma started messing with the seat like he was in a dentist’s chair. Leg rest up, back down, leg rest down, back straight, back flat. 123 degree angle…

· “Don’t you have chairs like this at home, rich boy?”

· “Yeah, but I never sit in my living room. There’s never anyone there.”

· Oh. You held out the bag of popcorn as a peace offering. “Well, you know that you’re welcome at my house any time you like.”

· “Yeah so I can recite the monologue from Shinobi Love Song to your mom for the 100th time? I’ll pass”

· “Forget it, sunshine. It was hasty of me to assume you’d be able to find my house without the guidance of Igawa…”

· Cheeky banter was the norm with the two of you, and you never tired of it. He handed you the box of Soup Patch kids with a feigned scowl as the lights in the theater began to dim. Leg rest up, back at a 95 degree angle was his final decision.

· He figured he’d have sometime before the killing started, so he decided to try and pay attention to the overall plot and characters, in case you had questions for him later. So wait… the killer doesn’t actually murder them in real life, but in their dreams? What kind of late night, infomercial hour, made-for-TV junk is this…

· Time to do the classic yawn and stretch. Smooth as a milkshake, he performed what he felt was a very believable yawn (practiced to a fault due to all of his roles as a too-cool-for-school hottie) and casually rested the stretch of his arm across your shoulder.

· You had been dating for about 7 months now. You had been moderately intimate. For Tenma to put on this song-and-dance just to hold onto you was a surefire tell that he was nervous. You hadn’t even really considered that maybe he didn’t like horror. You just assumed that because he was an acting professional that he was also a film aficionado, and a fan of all genres, at that. Stop pigeonholing him! you reminded yourself. Sure, he was perfect to you, but you had to let go of those preconceived notions.

· You turned and leaned closer to him, close enough to kiss. His throat constricted, he had heard there was more to these cinemas than just watching the movie. He prayed to God that this was your intention all along.

· “We can leave if you’re not into it” you insisted into his cheek.

· Pulse still quickening through his neck, he sat back and shook is head.

· “Nah babe, it’s cool. I liked the…” He proceeded to regurgitate every possible fact he had learned about the film within the last 15 minutes.

· Damn, so he was paying attention. You knew there was no point coaxing him to leave once he had made his mind up to stay, so instead you leaned forward and gave him a peck on the nose.

· “You’re adorable.”

· “Tch…” He bristled returning his back to the seat, but with the pouty pleased grin of a child who received praise for a shitty drawing. He watched as your eyes returned to the screen, and you flicked a few pieces of popcorn into your pretty mouth. Now what to do?

· Anything but look at the screen, really. Beads of sweat began to collect on his brow as the movie soundtrack reached a crescendo. He swiftly brushed them off into his already unruly ginger mane. He needed to distract himself, at least until the slicing and dicing had desisted.

· What’s this hole for? Tenma located an out of place hole attached to the arm of the chair. It doesn’t seem to have a bottom, but it does taper off deeper down. Curiosity got the best of him, and he casually slid his hand down into the soft drink cupholder. That’s freakin’ weird, there’s nothing even down there. Dumb. And he promptly finds his hand very much stuck.

· Shit, now what? Now he was really sweating. Some freakin’ great newspaper article this would make. “Teen drama heartthrob finds himself arrested not by the eyes of a young beauty, but the grasp of a plastic cupholder.” His father would kill him, to be sure. He’d probably have to sign autographs for all of the firefighters who removed the plastic cupholder from around his sore wrist. Here he is, trying so very hard to be a man’s man, to weather the barbarism that is horror cinema just to impress you, and now he’d gotten his hand stuck in the metaphorical cookie jar like a damn kid.

· He twists and pulls but he can’t get the heel of his palm back through the opening. He jerks his hand in frustration and elbows your flimsy paper cup of Canada Dry. Oh, so that’s what they’re for…

· “Hey! You got ginger ale on me, what are you doing?” You cocked an eyebrow at his hunched form.

· “Sorry, sorry! Yeah, I- I think I’ve got it. Don’t worry about me- hey! I think that guy in on a TV show with my father.”

· Snapping your head back to the screen, you consented that the man did indeed work with Tenma’s father (you’ve told him this before, he’s one of your favorite actors, and now you need to remind him again why his acting is so transcendent that even in a horror movie he can make the most mundane gestures seem so…)

· To Tenma’s great relief, it turns out ginger ale makes a passable lubricant. Using the splash that now trickled down his forearm, he twisted his wrist and managed to retrieve his very sore hand, tingling with pins and needles as he returned it to his lap. He sensed that you’ve finished your rant and offers a vacant smile. “Yeah… he’s a talented guy…” Crisis averted.

· Back to all the crazy shit happening on Birch Street. Tenma blanched as the whir of a chainsaw could be heard offscreen.

· “You okay? he asked, leaning over to comfort you which really wasn’t necessary whatsoever since you actually seemed extremely excited and not the least bit worried or bothered by all of the disgusting blood and guts and weird fleshy ceiling splayed onto the wall by the projector overhead.

· Before you had a chance to reply, he nuzzled in close to you, his hair brushing your cheek as he snuggled next to your chin. D’aww. You wiggled closer, touching the side of your forehead to his as the shrieks of the Final Girl could be felt penetrating the very seat below you. Great acoustics.

· Tenma wiggles his head into the crook of your neck to avoid looking at the carnage, murmuring an almost devious “Don’t be scared” into your ear before pressing a kiss to the column of your throat.

· Your heart leaps into your ears at the sudden burst of semi-public affection; Tenma wasn’t big on PDA, and you were cool with that. He smelled like a mix of clean cotton and Cool Water (they still make that?) He didn’t really do much besides camp out there above your collarbone after that, but his ghosting breath gave you pleasant chills, so you didn’t tell him he was missing the best part.

· You smelled like almonds and Freesia, he considered. His mother loved Freesia and she had planted them all along their estate courtyard, though she was rarely at home long enough to enjoy it. Tenma enjoyed sitting in the courtyard as a child. While the house was always eerily silent aside from the sterile hum of electricity, the courtyard was always full of tweets and twittering after school, and a discordant chorus of various chirping in the evening. That was what homes are supposed to be like, he had always thought. Chaotic and noisy, but full of life. It was his safe haven, and you carried the scent of it on your skin. You were his new sanctuary… a little pocket of protection from the pains of fake friends and real insecurities.

· These are his last thoughts before he fell asleep. You realize he’s out like a light as the credits roll, and you feel a sliver of drool trail down your clavicle. Hot.

· “Tenma? Hey!” He startles awake and you attempt to suppress a grin. “Hope it was a good dream.”

· Tenma may not have book smarts, but he’s far from stupid. He knows that you know he hated it, and he knows that you know that he knows he was just playing the brave guy to shield his ego. He was beginning to confuse himself, so instead he focused on the core of the matter – he loved you enough to feign interest in something you liked, and you loved him enough to go along with it.

· “They’re always great when they feature my favorite co-star.” He leaned forward and gave the bridge of your nose a chaste smooch.

· Gahhh. The right side of your mouth pinches up in a grin. Damn you and your flawless smileyou’re your immaculate stage presence.

· After he returned his hat and sunglasses to their proper place, with twin grins syrupy-sweet enough to make Yuki vomit, you exited the theater.

· Once outside, he took your hand and pulled you off to the side of the theater, at the mouth of the little alleyway that led to a street behind the theater. His wide palm and long fingers felt warm and comforting, though rather sticky and smelling oddly of ginger.

· “Thanks for coming out with me. I know it’s a pain in the ass for you,” you offered before he could speak.

· “Nah,” he deflects. “I’m used to it.”

· You knew he still hated it.

· “Plus, you’re worth it,” he added, feet shuffling and pink tinging the tips of his ears.

· Butterflies, oh so many butterflies. Rolling onto your toes, you leaned up and kissed him. After a meager gasp of surprise, he returned it with fervor, nose brushing against yours as he experimented with a few different head angles. Sour Patch kids never tasted so good.

· The thump of a closing car door was unfortunately audible above the sounds of your smacking mouths – Igawa was on the move and ready to shuffle the prince of teen dramas and his beloved to the safety of the Sumeragi Cadillac CT5. You groaned in unison, and not the good kind.

· Dragging your mouths apart, your mutual stares shared a silent vow that you would find a way to pick this up again later. Without a word, you both emerged from the shadows, fingers tangled tighter together as you steeled yourselves for a lecture from Igawa on the dangers of lingering in crowded places.

· You had no doubt there would still be plenty more adjustments to be made by both parties, and many a wall to gently tumble down. But that was a future nearly too resplendent to imagine, when where you were now was already a pretty fantastic place to be.

#a3!#a3! actor training game #tenma sumeragi #tenma x reader #a3! imagines #a3! headcanons #a3 imagines #a3 headcanons #a3 tenma #sumeragi tenma #a3! tenma #a3 actor training game #act! addict! actors!

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corescorner · 4 years

Text

Charmberry Cove Chapter Five.

Chapter Title: Funerals and Forging Friendships.

Wordcount: 4,645

AO3

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4.

Taglist: @unsocialchapeau @aularei @softest-emo

Today is the funeral.

His grandmother’s funeral, his grandmother who he doesn't really know. He's not sure how to feel about it, he's sad that he didn't know her and he's sad that he won't be able to anymore.

He doesn't really know what's going to happen at the funeral, it was planned three days ago so he's not really expecting anyone but his family to be there, who would know about it in such short notice?

Maybe he should have invited Patton, they seemed close.

Great, now he feels like a jackass for not thinking of that sooner.

He's in his room with the lights off except the fairy lights, he’s slumped in his computer chair with his head resting on the back of it; staring into the ceiling rafters.

Hex is sleeping on top of the computer monitor; never too far away from Virgil.

He lolls his head to look at his alarm clock to check how much time he has before they have to leave, not too long it seems.

He hasn't changed from his sleep clothes all day, hasn't really felt like it.

But, he should probably get ready so he trudges his way to his dresser to find some suitable clothing. Dad said he didn't need to dress for a funeral, to just dress regularly cause it was supposed to be more of a celebration of life and not the mourning of death.

But he thinks that's kind of a moot point considering all his clothes are dark anyway.

He does have some colours, purples, reds, dark blues. But he chooses all black anyway it just seems like he should, he feels it matches his feelings right now with everything going on.

So a simple black t-shirt with a spider web pattern and a baggy hoodie should be fine with jeans. Dad did say it didn't matter he doesn't need to be fancy.

He makes his way upstairs (Hex shadows him) to not be bored in his room anymore, he'll just be bored in the living room instead. It makes logical sense, shush.

Flopping on to his chair, he waits in silence. Hex joins him on his chest and curls up; her purrs start immediately.

It's quiet here with Dad gone.

He wonders what Dad and Uncle Dice are doing and if they're still arguing over whatever they were the other day.

It's quiet...

“Hey there sleepy head” Pops softly shakes Virgil awake, he didn't even realize he fell asleep. “We need to head out soon, are ya ready?” He's crouched in front of Virgil's chair to be eye level with him and smiling softy.

Virgil slowly nods.

“Alrighty then, let’s get our shoes on them hm?” Pops has been talking to him with soft tones and in question form since Monday, which okay sure, Virgil hasn't uttered a word since then, but that isn't really anything new or different.

It's not uncommon for him to not be able to talk for multiple days. Though, then Virgil usually just signs at that point and Pops always tries to help him through whatever is bothering him. Virgil hasn't even signed anything to him, how could he? He can't just bring up what he heard, what Dad and Uncle Dice were talking about! And he defiantly can't just tell him that he doesn't know what’s bothering him, Pops always knows when he's lying. Not that he lies to his parents often.

So he just stays silent. Silent is safe, no room for messing up what you wanna say.

No wonder Pops is worried. Damn it Virgil, why do you have to be this way?

They head to the car. Virgil has his hands in his hoodie pockets with the hood up, he’s trailing behind his father as they walk down the walkway to the driveway.

They head to the only funeral home in town, which is at the other side of town and in twenty minutes they're there.

Virgil is floored looking over the expanse of the property.

The cemetery is huge. The wide field of tombstones end with forest baring it on all sides, like wherever you go in this town you'll eventually be stopped by a forest barrier.

The cemetery is overwhelming in and of itself, but the large Gothic house that is practically a mansion looms just in front of the cemetery gates.

The sign in the front of the pathway leading up to the house reads:

Ainsworth Cemetery.

Funeral Home.

Crematorium.

Mortuary.

Open 24/7

Est. 1766

He was so distracted by everything that he didn't notice how many cars were situated in the parking lot and all around the property.

And there are a lot of cars, it looks like most of the town is attending.

They walk up the path and up the stairs to the porch.

Right beside the large double doors a poster board with a picture of his grandmother in her twenties-ish is propped up. Her wild mane of red curls frames her freckled face, she has a bright toothy smile in place and a very familiar pair of sun glasses perched on her forehead.

The poster board simply reads:

Clementine Tempest.

Loved by all.

1853 – 2012

1853? That, that must be some kind of typo right? It can't be right cause according to that she would have to have been about a hundred and fifty years old.

He turns to Emile confused, and is about to tap the board in question, but Pops just slips his hand into Virgil's.

“There's gonna be an overwhelming amount of people in there, you wanna stay by my side?” He asks gently.

Virgil's eyes go wide, an overwhelming amount? How do they all know it was today the funeral was just planned!

His hold on Pops tightens and they walk through the ornate doors, down some hallways towards the back of the mansion.

They step through another pair of ornate doors, and holy wow. It is like half the town is here, there are way too many people.

The room is large enough to hold all of them and then some, like a ball room. There are large ceiling length windows lining the back walls that look over into the cemetery and the almost set sun. Under the middle window the casket stands on a pedestal surrounded by an abundance of different colourful flowers.

The left side of the room is situated with tables a myriad of food items on the long ones and smaller tables scattered around for you to eat at. The right side of the room holds what looks like an open bar.

It was more of a party than a funeral, some people wore black but not in a mourning type way, more like that's what their style is anyway, there’s a lot of colour to be seen in the crowd.

People are chatting light heartedly and laughing, children are running around and dancing to the soft upbeat music playing and everyone seems to be having a great time despite the circumstances.

Pops still holding onto Virgil's hand, tugs him lightly “let’s go find your father yea?”

Virgil doesn't answer him, he just points to Dad who is already on his way over to them.

When he reaches them he slumps against Pops, his head resting on Emile's shoulder.

“Uugh, I am so glad that you guys are here my brother is driving me freakin insane, like stop please for two seconds.” He whines into Pops’ neck, Emile pets Remy's head. “I'm coming home tonight, I just can't deal with him anymore” he mumbles.

Pops hugs him he drags Virgil into it as well and they stay like that for about half a minute as the party continues around them, that's fine though.

Dad is the one who breaks the embrace with a tired sigh, he looks at Virgil “how you holdin' up Pumpkin?”

Virgil shrugs one shoulder, looking up at him behind his bangs.

Dad looks tired.

“I think I saw your friend Patton over by the bar, why don't you go chill with him?” Remy suggests.

Pops squeezes his hand encouragingly then loosens his grip, but still holding on to let Virgil make the decision.

He lets go and makes a not so convincing smile, heart thudding in his chest as he walks out of his fathers grasp and into the throng of people he heads towards the bar.

He hears loud light laughter the closer he gets and he sees Patton perched on a bar stool, hand on the shoulder of the kid next to him who seems exasperated at the antics of the kid that is next to him.

As he gets closer he can hear their conversation.

“Do you think I can steal some booze when the bartender isn't looking?”

“Remus no!”

“Remus yes!”

“Please don't” Patton says.

The boy on the far side puts his hand on Remus'? Shoulder, he sighs dramatically.

“You guys are no fuuun” He whines.

Patton shakes his head but there's a smile on his face. That’s when he notices Virgil heading there and his face brightens even more, waving at him gesturing him over like that's not exactly what he was doing.

“Virgil! I was wondering when you'd get here! Guys this is who I was talking about the other day!” He gestures to Virgil.

They all swivel around in their stools to look at him.

No pressure or anything, everyone is just staring at him. He two finger salutes the group, not being able to talk at the moment, not that in this particular situation he'd be able to anyway. He's not going to be able to handle this, they're all gonna hate him, he can't speak for gods sake!

A small sense of calm suddenly pokes at him.

Patton gestures to his friends. “Guys this is Virgil!”

“Yea, no duh” the one next to Patton murmurs, Patton looks at him with a cute scowl/pout but otherwise ignores him.

He gestures next to him, the boy in a white shirt with red accents and a little crown on the breast pocket. “This is Roman! And next to him is his twin brother Remus!” He announces.

Remus is wearing a dark green shirt that hangs low on one shoulder, the shirt reads 'good mourning' and there's a picture of a skeleton waking up in a coffin. How appropriate. Remus waves madly his smile wide.

“And on the end there is Logan!” Patton says.

Logan, in a simple black polo and a shiny dark blue tie nods his head in Virgil's direction.

“Come sit with us!” Patton says excitedly patting the stool next to himself.

Virgil hopes the smile he wears is welcoming and nice but he has a feeling it's more strained than anything.

He climbs on to the stool and the others swirl theirs back towards the bar.

Roman leans forwards on the bar to look at Virgil “so, what's your deal?”

His deal? What does he mean by that?

Virgil narrows his eyes, a scowl in place and tries to answer but no sound comes out only a scoff, well this is going to be a disaster isn't it? And he actually liked being around Patton too.

“Patton gave us the impression that you could speak, was that false or are you just really shy?” Roman says.

“He's just nervous around new people! I had to push a little emotion into our first conversation before he was comfortable” Patton says brightly but pointedly.

Roman doesn't look impressed, Virgil gets the feeling he doesn't like him too much...

“Why would you say it like that Pat? If he's living here he's going to know sooner rather than later.”

Know what?

Patton swerves his head towards Roman “well maybe I'm not ready to tell him yet” he says a little uneasily, a little scared.

More people not telling him things.

“Okay! Enough of your petty bullshit Ro!” Remus says smacking the bar top.

Roman lets out an offended noise, hand at his chest. “Ugh, petty bullshit? excuse you!”

Remus ignores his brother “Virgil, why the fuck are you here?”

“Remus!” Patton scolds.

Logan clears his throat “I am sorry about that Virgil, we do not meet many new people, if at all any. It’s a very small town and we don't usually leave for long periods of time.”

“Kay, sure yea but it was a serious question! He just moved here, how does he know the dead person?” Remus defends.

“She was my grandmother” he whispers. Finally, words.

“And he speaks” Roman says waving a hand.

Patton sends Virgil a soft smile, Logan looks down at the bar uncomfortably, Remus is staring at him.

“I am... Sorry” Roman says quietly.

“Eeeyea, me too I didn't know” Remus says.

Virgil shrugs, whatever it's not like he expected them to know.

Patton is the one to lift the mood.

“Whadda want to drink Virge?”

Drink? At the bar? What. They're twelve.

He cocks his head to the side to see what everyone else is drinking.

Patton has a root beer float, alright then. Roman’s drink looks like a sunset, he has no idea what that could be. Remus has a dark red, syrupy looking drink and Logan has a tea cup.

Okay so, they're presumably not drinking alcohol, good he wouldn't know what to do if they were. What even is the drinking age around here? Probably not anywhere near twelve that's for sure.

“Uh, I don't know... It's okay I'm good” he murmurs.

The bartender sets a glass in front of him, it looks like an iced latte of some sort whipped cream and raspberries topping it.

What? Looking at it he realizes that, yea this is actually what he really wanted, how did she know that before he did?

Patton smiles up at her “thanks Kate!”

She salutes him and moves on to the other end of the bar.

No one questions this behaviour, no one even seems confused by it.

Virgil sips at his drink, pumpkin spiced. Nice. The raspberries are a nice touch too, he loves raspberries.

The four other boys continue to talk amongst themselves, Virgil is content to just listen in on the conversation at hand.

He can get used to this whole, group thing, he’s used to having only one friend so being in a group is going to be a weird difference

A bell chimes all around the large room and everyone turns towards the casket where the sound originated.

A man and a woman in very nice clothing are standing there in front of the casket, the woman speaks.

“Good evening, I would like to inform everyone that all the guests who is coming has arrived, we will start the ceremony shortly so please when the seats raise be seated.”

She claps her hands and everyone moves to the sides as the floor slowly splits down the middle and a platform of pews rise.

No one seems surprised, they all moved like it was the norm for a room to transform itself with the clap of the hands.

What is up with this town?

As the pews platform clicks into place people start taking their seats.

The man at the front stands next to the bench right at the front and announces.

“Would the family of the deceased sit in the front please.”

And although he said 'please' Virgil doesn't think he meant it as a question or request.

He fidgets in his seat, being in the front? That's too much. He'd much rather spectate in the back than everyone watch him even walk to the front, nonetheless be seated in front of all of them. He wishes he knew where his fathers were, it'd be easier to walk down that aisle with someone.

Patton lays a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, more comforting than it really should have been, but it does relax him enough for him to get up.

He takes a deep breath, eyes closed and releases it, okay he’s ready.

As much as he says that he'd be fine to himself, he's still kind of nervous but he does it anyway. He walks down the aisles of people, trying to ignore them, and when he gets to the front there sits his two favourite people in the world and his anxieties lessen.

He sits in between them, they both put their arms around him on the back of the bench and scooting their bodies closer together in a comforting shelter.

The ceremony like everything else lately is weird and confusing.

There’s a lot of burning strong smelling things and sing chanting in another language.

His family is sprayed with some type of light purple mist that smells good and then when it’s all over people are allowed to go up to the front to speak.

There are many people who spoke of the cafe fondly and how his grandmother always made them feel welcomed and secure.

There are people who, to Virgil were spouting absolute nonsense, stuff he didn't understand and couldn't decipher the meanings of.

Some things were hard to keep track of, but he listened anyway.

Patton went up, teary eyed and said how much he was going to miss her, they were pretty close, Clem taught him a lot of things but he couldn't seem to continue everything he wanted to say cause he just began crying through his words, Roman escorted him away from the podium, arms around his shoulders.

Both his fathers went up at the same time, regaling the great times that they shared and reminiscing about their lives with her, how supportive she was. Pops cried when he was talking about how much she changed his life and how he'll never be able to repay her.

She was, is and forever will be loved it seems.

Surprisingly, Uncle Dice didn't go up, he just sat there uncharacteristically quiet.

After the ceremony the sky was black and the stars were shining brightly with the full moon hanging proudly in the sky.

The view from the windows on looking the cemetery was breathtaking.

People started to leave the hall and he noticed when most of them were gone, Patton and his group stayed. They were the only other people there, besides some other kid who looked like they were cleaning up.

The group started to walk towards him so he met them in the middle, Patton put his arms around him and squeezed.

Remy sauntered up to them.

“Damn, okay so who here wants some freakin milkshakes?” He says.

“That'd be great” Patton chirps.

“Fuuuck yess” Remus hollers.

“Wonderful!” Roman lilts out.

“That would be satisfactory” Logan replies.

Well, they're quite the group huh, he guesses he's part of that now?

Remy smiles at the young teens, turning to address Virgil he says “She left you something, though you can't use it till you're like sixteen so, like we'll just use it till you can, and right now with this entourage it's gonna be useful, come it's outside.”

They all follow him outside to the parking lot and they stop in front of a hippy looking van, kinda like the Mystery Machine, but painted in different shades of purples and blues with the odd reds and yellows swirling through.

Pops is sitting in the passenger seat already, looking nostalgic.

Dad opens the side door for the boys to get in, there are no back seats just a bunch of comfortable looking pillows with cushy flooring and fairy lights strung up.

They all climb in and settle themselves before Dad starts the van.

Virgil sits in the middle of the two front seats facing his, friends?

“Hey Dad, why'd she give me this van?” he whispers.

“Well, she gave your uncle and I the cafe, that he thank Goood signed over to me. But this van was also a big part of her life, she lived in this van for quite a while, she probably just wanted to give you a piece of herself.”

He doesn't know how to feel about that, it's great, it's unexpected and he wishes not for the first time that he actually knew his grandmother.

Virgil sits there on the floor of his van (weird) his head is leaning on Pops’ chair, he scratches at Virgil’s scalp soothingly, his eyes close as he listens to the soft chatter the others.

His friends.

~0~

Patton hasn't been in the cafe since Clem died, even before Remy closed it and they were still open and running despite its owner dying.

He just didn't feel right going in anymore without her there, it hurt too much.

And now here he is standing in front of it with his friends like it was a normal Friday night for them.

All the lights inside were obviously off, it being closed and all, but the lights in the apartment upstairs were on shining lightly and slightly cutting the darkness.

He hasn’t seen those lights on since, well it’s occupant died.

Remy unlocks the doors and keeps it open for them and gestures for them to go in.

Virgil fidgets but goes in first, leading the rest of them in.

The swirl of emotions he feels from everyone as they all stand in the darkened cafe almost makes him cry again. He pushes against the sad feelings but doesn't push it out into the air, he doesn’t think now is a good time to shift the rooms emotion.

Doesn't mean he can't do it to himself.

Their usual spot is at the largest bay window with a round table nestled up to the windows seat and two comfortable chairs sitting on the other side of it.

They take their seats like they always do, Roman on one side of the window with Patton next to him, his legs are usually stretched out on the window seat with him leaning his back against the wall but not this time as Virgil sits next to Patton. Logan and Remus each takes one of the chairs.

Remy walks up to them, Emile right behind him and they stop in front of their table, Emile snakes his arms around his husband and lays his chin on Remy’s shoulder, eyes closing.

“So, like what do you guys want?” He addresses them.

“Is the menu still the same?” Logan asks.

Remy taps his chin thinking “hmm, well for the sake of this being easy, yea sure. But like I don't care, ask for anything and I'll conjure it up for you.”

Remus gasps loudly, Remy raises an eyebrow.

“Oh god, don't tell him that!” Roman protests.

Patton giggles.

“Why not?” Virgil asks slowly his eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Well, Remus has a very unique set of taste buds” Patton explains.

“That's a nice way of saying the stuff he likes is disgusting” Roman says.

“Pshh, bitch please” is all Remus responds with.

“Do you wanna know what some of his favourite snacks are?” Roman prompts but continues speaking without waiting for an answer “frozen fish sticks that are still frozen!” he throws his hands up in the air.

Virgil's head does a weird little head jiggle of confusion and he looks at Remus.

“What, I... What? Those are frozen, you don't eat those frozen” he says baffled.

“Maybe you don't” Remus rolls his eyes.

“Another one” Roman pipes up “is Nutella and tater tots!”

“That one is actually quite good” Logan says everyone looks to him, Remus is beaming. “What? The crispy, savoury, saltiness of the tater tots complement the sweet, chocolate nuttiness of the Nutella, I highly suggest you try it before dismissing it” he says fixing his glasses.

“I keep telling him that! As someone who prefers sweet and salty mixtures you'd think he would try it too!” Remus throws his hands up.

“Sounds like a new menu item” Remy says, that makes Remus whirl in his direction making his chair rock a bit, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Really?” He shouts.

“Totes kid” he says, Patton giggles

“Don'tcha mean 'tots'?” he says giggling even more.

Logan closes his eyes and breathes deeply, Remus looks amused, Roman lets out a soft 'oof' but he's smiling and Virgil is looking like he doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or scowl.

“Anyway, what the heck do you guys want, milkshake wise cause that's what I'm feelin like experimenting with right now. Nothing is off the table go wild.”

“Fuuuuck yes!” Remus shouts again.

Roman groans, Virgil and Logan snicker.

“I dunno how adventurous I am” Patton says.

Remy shrugs. “It's whatever, if you want something on the menu I won't like stop you.”

“Mm, okay I want birthday cake then.”

“Do you have any Crofters on hand?” Logan asks.

“Sure kid.”

Logan's eyes widen a bit, surprise comes off of him, it probably went against his probability.

“Would you perhaps be able to make a milkshake with it?”

“Don't see why not, and hey if it's good I'll so put it on the menu too.”

“I, I. Yes okay, that is”- he clears his throat and adjusts his tie -“acceptable.”

“Okay me now!” Remus grabs their attention “I've been thinking on this” he says.

“Oh that's always a good sign” Roman groans.

Remus kicks him from under the table making Roman squawk but continues like he didn't just do that. “I want something with pickles!”

“Ew, you are disgusting, how are we twins?” Roman says flailing his arms up, almost hitting Patton in the face he knocks his glasses slightly, Patton puts a hand on Roman's hand gently lowering it and keeping it there. Roman looks at him apologetically.

Remy hums “so like pickle juice incorporated into it or?”

“Yea! But also some chunks I want a crunch!”

“Alrighty you funky little weirdo” he says affectionately.

“I cannot believe you are humouring this... Well, whatever. I'll have peanut butter and chocolate one please” Roman says.

“Pumpkin spiced” Virgil says, Remy hums knowingly.

“I'll be back with those. Have fuun” he says turning towards the kitchen with Emile, who looks really tired.

Things are unusually quiet for a few seconds until Virgil jerks upwards, looking from him to Logan.

“Hey, you have the same glasses!”

Remus and Roman both burst out laughing, Patton snickers.

Logan looks at him and nods slightly while fixing his glasses “yep” is all he says to that.

Virgil is becoming a part of the group, slowly but it's happening he can feel it. He smiles at the fact that Virgil won’t have to be the new kid who's alone at school.

School starts pretty soon, which means this weekend is...

“Oh!” Patton smacks his hands onto the table top startling everyone. “School is starting soon! This weekend, guys guys, this weekend!” he says jumping in place with excitement looking around at everyone then pointedly nudging his head in Virgil's direction.

“Yes Patton, I think that's a wonderful idea” Logan says.

Roman sighs but agrees “of course he can join.”

“Yea! One more for an orgy!” Remus declares.

“You did not have to say it like that, that's gross.” Roman whines.

Remus just shrugs, laughing.

“Anyway...” Patton begins, turning to Virgil he explains. “Okay so we have this tradition we started when we were around eight where the last weekend of the summer we have a weekend long slumber party starting on Friday! We always change who's house it's at, and since you're new we're not gonna make you play host, but do you wanna start coming to them? You're our friend after all!”

Everyone looks at Virgil, anxiety rolls off of him, he's looking around at everyone panicked, trying to find something and apparently doesn't find anything malicious on any of their faces.

“Uh, yea sure. Sounds like fun.”

Patton claps “This is going to be great Virge, you'll see!”

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spamzineglasgow · 4 years

Text

(REVIEW) Miscellaneous by Julia Rose Lewis

In this review, Maria Sledmere visits the verdant isle of Julia Rose Lewis’ pamphlet Miscellaneous (Sampson Low, 2019), and engages chaotically with its shape-shifting poetics of ecstasy, digression and slippery things.

> Miscellaneous: of various kinds; elements of different kinds. A little green book full of miscellany. The work of Julia Rose Lewis has been dealing in miscellany (let me say it as much I can, it’s a lovely word) for a while now. Lewis’ collection Phenomenology of the Feral (Knives Forks and Spoons Press 2017) was a veritable assemblage of household objects, clothing items, all things edible (from oranges to gummy bears), tools, chemicals and other substances. Words had a Steinian tendency to slip, where a ‘pear’ becomes ‘peer’ and sugar becomes sand. The whole book teems with a delicious excess of things and their zoomed-in, jostling, merging and almost psychedelic relation (I mean just consider the multicoloured octopus-bunny hybrids on the cover). Her recent pamphlet, Miscellaneous (2019), a slender offering from chapbook series Sampson Low, edited by fellow dealer in poetic animalia, SJ Fowler, continues this playful approach to disordering objects, experience and relation.

> Explicitly ‘inspired’ by Green Eggs and Ham, a classic children’s book by Dr. Seuss, Miscellaneous works with its foodstuffs in a fractal and kind of ecstatic way. Ecstasy meaning rapture or transport; Miscellaneous as a little island of strong emotion. I want to say island, but I could just as easily say green tomato. It’s difficult to resist the seduction of island metaphors during quarantine, and besides, Lewis herself spent time as a child in Nantucket Island. According to the publisher, Miscellaneous ‘asks if it is possible to have a mutually healthy relationship between a human and an island’. In an interview from 2016 with Katy Lewis Hood, Lewis says, ‘I use writing about the place I’m longing for as an antidote; I see islands as stories and stories as islands’. Staying with that chiasmus, might we see Miscellaneous itself as a kind of place? The scales upended sufficient to slip into our pocket, a zoomy island remainder? A dinky little 12-page island you could circle on foot and do it again and again — for this is a book that loves repetition, a veritable jaunt on the anaphora express, a 5-7 syllabic ride on the waves. But it’s difficult to know what constitutes the very land you walk or ride on:

A mane! A terrain! A mane is a terrain through and through and should you be guarding the herd inside the river valley? You hold this territory? Not harnessed! Not in a horse-less carriage!

Lewis plays deliciously with the fact of metaphor as a transport, a vehicle, while thrashing around in the joy of assonance and sound as forces of meaning and meaning’s disruption. What’s more, the repeated invocation of the ‘you’ means I’m forever hailed back to the scene; I can’t leave the island utterly behind, can’t glide drone-like over its landscapes. Besides, maybe it’s more like an archipelago? Terrain is a region of land, a system of rocks or geological formations, a standing-ground or position. Lewis teases us with the ever resolving, dissolving, negating terrains of lyric. Those exclamation marks are surely provocations to the reader, as much as the swept up proclamation of revelling in words themselves (thinking of the upward-looking heart emoji, reacting to a message). Her ‘I’ (perhaps riffing off the O’Haran tradition of I do this I do that poems, via Colin Herd’s I like this I like that variation) is quite demanding, precise, has an eye for arrangement (‘The musk ox is not in the / ocean’), identification, variation, placement (‘They disappear’). As with the effect of haiku (a kind of ‘cut’ of images), she challenges ‘nature’/object relations by similarity and contrast:

I would not like that morose woman faraway, that maiden hair tree. I am that old ginkgo tree.

What is the connection between the morose woman and the maiden hair? Does the fact of the speaker being the ‘old ginkgo’ explain her conditional dislike of the woman? And is the maiden hair tree the same as the woman? With its short, invitational lyrics, Miscellaneous gives you time to wander around the ideas of things, ideas in things. Maybe it’s telling the story of an island which is really a metaphor for Earth: its ‘holding pattern[s]’, its ‘there or anywhere’, its snowy territories, its ‘dry grasses / and mosses’ (v. Eliotic, ‘The Dry Salvages’ of Four Quartets?), its ‘skyhook’, its ‘living fossil leaf’ with ‘many millions of years’ inside it. Crudely speaking, ecopoetry often tries so hard to seem either objective (ecomimesis) or explicitly subjective (Romantic); the speaker of these poems insists on a kind of declarative, shape-shifting reality, whose run-on code requires the user command of something more than human. ‘You hold all the weeks / would you tote the boulders here?’ The labour of bringing the world to life in poetry is more than just reading; you have to really consider toting the boulders of words around. There’s a weird hospitality to this, a gesture of extending the voice: ‘So I / say try the bloom of mold!’. Maybe as a reader I’d speak better the world with the mold in my throat. It’s these kinds of special conditions Miscellaneous gets at so well. What the chapbook gives is a portable miscellany, a set of questions, a dicey and moreish feast of seeing the world anew — at all scales and dwellings, from a ‘ptarmigan nest’ to the air itself. Better eat up.

> Lewis’ smart and choppy lines remind me of the best chefs at the restaurant where I used to work, who would dice veg or make meat cuts with a certain deftness, all the while engaging in dishevelled conversation. I would ask, from which precise bay are the oysters sourced, and the chef would lecture me on the valiance of a 2Pac album. We would swerve from one topic to another by the time of the bell: language defined by the beat and demand of cooking. It was good to feel enslaved to the temporality of the microwave, the rising of bread, the petulant delay on the part of a chicken. And you might say, O maria what does this have to do with Julia Rose Lewis’ new book? And I would say, well, it’s all about iteration, digression, perversion of recipe. The poetic line as the flick of sweaty chef hair, the child’s demanding inquisition, the special way of dodging the question. But don’t let me fill you up with nonsense.

> There’s this weird piece in The Guardian that totally disses Dr. Seuss’ Green Eggs and Ham, which I’ll admit I haven’t read this side of puberty. The author, Emma Brockes, is pretty damning: ‘two-thirds of the words feel like filler’, ‘the rhyme scheme [...] is like something a kid would throw at a homework assignment so he could finish and run out to play’, ‘[Seuss’] books are creepy, empty, over-long, cheap, twee writing posing as whimsy’. Maybe I don’t have a striped ankle to stand on here, but I can’t help but think Brocke is missing a point somewhere. What’s wrong with poetry that wants to fly through itself quickly, all the better for the writer to go out and play? I’m thinking of something Jack Spicer writes in one of his letters to Lorca, describing how there are times in a poet’s life where ‘the objects change’ when ‘someone intrudes into the poet’s life’ so a certain balance is lost. ‘The seagulls, the greenness of the ocean, the fish—they become things to be traded for a smile or the sound of conversation—counters rather than objects’. You sort of get the feeling Brocke got tired of this (too many counters, too much supposed impeachable brilliance) and upended the board, sending everything scattering to miscellany. Maybe that was the appropriate reaction. I’d like my poetry to have that effect sometimes. And then I’d quite like to run out and play, or fall in love (if we were not in lockdown), or otherwise just write you a blowsy prosy letter.

> There’s this idea of Green Eggs and Ham as a childhood exercise in epistemological questioning. Asking you to think about how experience establishes beliefs about the world. Miscellaneous quite obviously trades in the empirical possibilities of knowing, experimenting in what happens when certain patterns or conditions are put into play (it’s worth noting that Julia Rose Lewis is also a scientist by training). I think of a child stuffing sand in its mouth, learning about size, scale, texture, taste. A child that learns a tomato is good when ripe and sweet. I also think of judging when I might cross the road, or a chemist inching just a *wee* bit more of X in the formula (is that how it works? is it like choosing to add another comma to a poem - what exactly is the risk of explosion?). Every day of our lives we are hedging, testing. ‘If you will then I will try / rain on rain on rain’; how I learn from you, a fashionable imitation in the wearable weather/whether. Things pile up, acquire elemental charge; the poems are teasingly object-oriented; the ‘I’ is an iterative effect of desires, repulsions and relations. Substances effect themselves into life and I think of Francis Ponge and the orange. Expression is something to be ‘endured’. How does an object hold itself in a poem, without being overly squeezed into miscellany, matter? Lewis uses the singsong effects of poetry (repetition, rhyme), to play with causality and intention. In the final poem, for example, is the ‘gold’ ‘old’ and what temporality is ‘golden’; is it the ‘spring /green’ or the speaker who is ‘cold’?

> Miscellaneous in general describes a kind of extra or supplementary category, that which escapes the normative set. Perhaps there is then a case for this being a kind of queer object-oriented poetics. Things are slippery and hungry and irresistibly insistent. They become the book itself, the little object in your hand, tomato green as ‘the spring / green tomatoes in sea salt’, sprinkled with salty little words. This is a case for frivolity and filler and whimsy in poetry, for appetite and affect, salty wit, the necessity of dancing around sentiment, excess, sweetness and swerve. ‘I will eat the spring / fruit upside down’; the fruit of the book you peel again.

Miscellaneous is out now and available from Sampson Low.

Text and image: Maria Sledmere

Published: 12/6/20

#poetry #review #reviews #poetry review #maria sledmere #miscellaneous #Sampson Low #Julia Rose Lewis

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