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elisela · 4 years

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marry me, eddie diaz buck x eddie, fluff, for @madamewriterofwrongs who wanted a domestic proposal

He’s never agreeing to take another half-shift immediately after a 24 hours shift again. It’s been suspiciously quiet; it’s not uncommon to go through days where he’s man-behind because ninety percent of the calls are med-only, but he’s crawling his way towards hour thirty-one and at this rate his eyes will turn to dust by the time the clock decides to idly tick over to 9:00pm and he gets to leave.

There’s nothing left for him to do. He’s stocked all the med kits, taken inventory of the supplies in the closet, chopped up every single vegetable in the refrigerator and searched the internet high and low for a new shopping list for Bobby, one with everything he could possibly need typed out neatly so Buck didn’t have to try to decipher his untidy scrawl next time they went to the grocery store. He’s gone through instagram, facebook, reddit—every social media site until the images and text bled together and he was stuck in an endless cycle of scrolling.

“Buckley!”

He rolls his head towards the back of the couch when he hears his name shouted from downstairs, frowning, because it sounds like Eddie, but Eddie had left at 9:00am with a pitying look and a clap on Buck’s back, but—

It is Eddie, standing at the foot of the stairs with Chris, and—

“Oh, no way,” he says, happily launching himself off the couch and stumbling in his haste to get down the stairs. Maybe he should take the pole, that would be faster. He grabs Chris up under the arms, squeezing him tight, and doesn’t bother to control the look of complete adoration on his face. “You brought Moo’s. Eddie. This is amazing, I wanted barbecue so bad this morning—”

“I know you did, I was there when you wouldn’t stop talking about it,” Eddie says, grinning. “Come on, Chris threw some blankets in the back of the truck, let’s go eat outside before an alarm gets you.”

“Dad got key lime pie,” Chris whispers in his ear as they head out, and Buck turns towards Eddie and beams.

“Eddie Diaz,” he says, “I’m going to need you to marry me.”

Eddie laughs, loud and sweet. “You’re not getting my slice, Buck.” But he leans over and presses a kiss to Buck’s cheek once they get into the truck bed, so Buck figures it’s a start.

Eddie curses beside him, a sudden, forceful exhale calling Buck’s attention, and he looks over sleepily. “Sup, Eds?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Eddie shakes his head. “I forgot Chris had a check-up this morning and I double-booked. The tire place had a last minute opening and I’ve been putting it off long enough, it’s not really safe to drive on them anymore—”

“So take my Jeep,” Buck says, knocking his knee against Eddie’s. “Problem solved.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says. “I’ll call and cancel—”

He frowns. “Eddie,” he says, shaking his head, “you take Chris, I’ll take the truck in. It’ll be, what, two hours tops? I’ll just meet you at your place to switch cars when everything is done. Not like I’ve got much else to do.”

“Right, not like you usually nap after a shift,” Eddie says, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t ask you—”

“You didn’t,” Buck says. “I offered. Come on, Eds, let me do this for you.”

There’s a pause, and Eddie’s hand lands on his thigh, squeezing, and a thrill runs up Buck’s spine. “Thanks, Buck,” he says. “Not sure what I would do without you sometimes.”

“Me neither,” Buck agrees, grinning. “You should probably lock me down and marry me already before all this is snapped up by someone else.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Eddie laughs. “How about we start with forgetting the ‘your place’ and ‘my place’ thing and just make it our place? Then it would be easier—”

Buck twists and lets himself fall, grabbing onto Eddie and bringing him down on the couch with him—not something he’s supposed to be doing at work, but his boyfriend just asked him to move in and he figures that surely the explanation will get him a pass this one time. “I don’t need convincing,” he says, kissing Eddie on the nose before ducking his head down and pressing their lips together softly. “If you’re asking, I’m in.”

“What do you mean, you need your credit card?” Eddie asks with a frown. “You’re supposed to be doing your taxes, not shopping.”

“I need to pay to file it,” he says, gesturing at the laptop, and pulls his hands away when Eddie turns the screen towards himself.

“Buck,” he sighs, “you’re single—”

“Hey!”

Eddie gives him an unimpressed look. “You file your taxes as single—idiot—you don’t have any dependants—although maybe I should just try to claim you as one this year, God knows you need someone looking out for you—no investments—”

“You don’t know that,” Buck says, even though Eddie’s right. He could have investments, he just—doesn’t.

“—all you need is a 1040A, and you shouldn’t be paying for that,” Eddie says over him. “Look, just give me your documents and I’ll do it for you, okay?”

Well, insults or not, Buck isn’t going to turn the offer down. “You’re amazing,” he says, and he closes the laptop and tosses it onto the couch next to him. “I should put a ring on you before it’s too late. Let’s drive to Vegas tonight and get married, it can be really classy, we can get Elvis and everything.”

There’s a long silence, and then, “you do that a lot,” Eddie says, looking over at him strangely.

“I do what a lot?”

“Ask me to marry you,” Eddie says. “I know it’s just a joke, but I feel like—” he stops and shakes his head, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“Feel like?” Buck prompts, when it’s obvious that Eddie’s not going to continue on his own, and adds “don’t say it doesn’t matter,” when Eddie opens his mouth again, because he knows exactly how this conversation usually goes. “Come on, Eds. You feel like what? Pressured?”

“No,” Eddie says, quietly but firmly, looking down, “no, I feel like—I wish you would mean it.”

Buck’s always figured that when people say something caught them by surprise and they stopped breathing that they were exaggerating, but it’s only the way his throat starts to burn after a few seconds that reminds him to pull a breath in. “I do mean it,” he says, reaching over and taking Eddie’s hand, tugging until Eddie’s eyes meet his. “I meant it every time.”

Eddie smiles and shakes his head. “We weren’t even together when you started,” he says. “You asked me to marry you after our third shift together, after I let you borrow my shirt.”

“I still meant it,” Buck says. “If you had said yes—Eddie, I would have printed off the papers for a license and filed it before you even had time to regret it, I swear.”

“Funny that you think I’d regret it,” Eddie says, squeezing his hand. “But, uh, if you’re asking, then—”

“No,” Buck blurts out, and Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. “No, not that—yes. I’m—I will ask. Soon. But you deserve better than this, just sitting here talking about taxes, God, Eddie, no.”

“This,” Eddie says, waving a hand around, gesturing between them, “is us, Buck. I don’t need anything more than that.”

He squeezes Eddie’s hand—too tight, probably, but God, he loves him. “Maybe not,” he says, “but I want to do the whole speech and everything for you, so just let me. Saturday, okay? 8pm. I’ll ask you then.”

Eddie looks at him for a moment, lips pressed together, tongue pushing his cheek out like he does when he’s trying not to laugh. “Alright,” he says. “And I’ll say yes at 8:01pm.”

#buddie #buddie fic #911fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #proposal #fluff #just so much smushy-wushy love

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sugarcookiesandsins · 4 years

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Charmed [Episode 1]

➰ ot7 x reader, poly!bts x reader, mafia!bts ➰ they wouldn't notice her until she was standing above them, a smoking gun in her hand a bullet in their heart 🌡 M 🛑 heavy violence 🕛 6.1k+

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Tags: Since this is a revamping of the series, I am using a new tag list. If you were on it before, please message me so I can add you back. To those on the list, thank you for taking the time to read this.

@omgsuperstarg @missseoulite

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Reflected in your eyes were the lights of the boat as you stood next to the railing, air fogging as you breathed out courtesy of the temperature difference between you and your surroundings. The ripples had long disappeared beneath you as the body sank farther into the depths of international waters. Twenty miles or so from the nearest land, surrounded by the inky depths of the sea, you felt oddly at peace with yourself than most would be. Before you, the sea extended with multitudes of opportunities, yet you held on to the metal pole, refusing to let go and fling yourself into its cold embrace. Overhead, past the tips of the sails with their heavy canvas, the sky extended in the same way; punctuated with lighthouses that never ceased to guide traveler to the shore.

This far out, much like the senses, even the jurisdiction became convoluted. It was the age-old argument of territory and even the final frontier, be it space that extend pat your reach or the depths that you could feel splashing against with every wave that the barge broke, could be subject to a baseless human need that no one seemed to be able to justify past material greed.

The body would not pop back out of the water for a at least 2 weeks and add on the time lags that always happen when multiple governments tried to make an important decision, you had more than enough time to hole up somewhere else on the planet as the buzz died down.

Without tearing your eyes away from the blurred horizon, your silently raised a hand towards the bow. The muffled yelling and the vibrations of the engine under your feet gave you the only answer you needed as the barge turned, headed in the direction of the nearest port. And yet you faced forward, watching the waters as they tried to fight against the metallic interruption only to succumb to the power of modern technology. Your figure remained still, clothed in black like a specter charged with guarding the ship. The waters closer to the coast were calmer, only breaking on the wooden stakes of the ports as they teased onlookers with millions of secrets buried under the cloak of time.

Your face remained impassive, even if no one could see it. The crew members had simply been instructed to ferry you out and ferry you back, a clean operation that would get them access to a very lucrative fishing spot. Environmental concerns had forced the government into restricting the fishing, but as a major export, it could not stop it all together with the amount of people employed in the business. So, they started dealing permits for who can fish where and for how much; it’s amazing to think that the government had indirectly created a new black-market sector when they were supposed to be the paragons of peace and leadership.

Your face was a mystery to these workers, and not one person there would be able to swear that they weren’t curious as to who you were. They had simply been told by their boss that they were scheduled for a late-night trip out into the ocean. There would be only one person boarding and only one person leaving. They were not to disturb their guest for any reason, nor were they supposed to inquire about the guest and his actions.

You trusted them to not risk their job for mere curiosity, but what you didn’t trust were the people with enough money to make their curiosity worth the risk. People are fickle like that and everyone can be influenced, if promised the right thing.

The mistake that most amateurs make is that they believe that if money is not strong enough to break a man, then their moral fortress is impregnable. Only the select few, which included you, realize that there is more to offer in life than just financial backing. To some, success is only thing worth anything in life, and that may be something not controlled by the number in your checkbook. It’s surprising how much support you receive when a political candidate finds themselves short one particularly threatening opponent.

Letting out a wry smile, you think about the past that brought you here to this moment. Not the millions of coincidental events of the universe - though that certainly plays a part in it all. It was a single night that became the catalyst for everything you are today. It was the night that BigHit targeted your family, all because of some idiot who didn’t have the balls to face the consequences of his mistake. Surprising how a member of the biggest sect of organized crime in all of South Korea still is chicken enough to pin the blame on someone who was considerably lower on the food chain than they were.

BigHit had been in part of your life since the start, having always employed your father as the legal head for the group. The front was a real estate firm, but it was one of those elephant-in-the-room types of situations; common knowledge, but ignored to maintain some semblance of normality. Heck, you were sure the entire city knew the truth that hid behind the white, blocky letters, but it was an unspoken rule that no one said anything. BigHit was untouchable, until 7 years ago and the paranoia that spread through the company cost your family greatly.

It had all started when some lower-level lackey noticed an inconsistency in the finances. There were conflicting spending reports between company-sponsored business trips and the withdrawal amounts. On multiple instances, one exceeded the other and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening. This was coincidence number one. The man wasn’t even supposed to be checking the finances, he was just filing something away for his boss when he knocked over the files. It was impossible to stop his roaming eyes as they scanned the information while cleaning it all up.

Immediately he made a beeline for the higher ups, who, after looking over it to make sure the worker’s suspicions were correct, passed it along the chain of command. Then the investigation began. Almost immediately, your father’s team came under suspicion. They had been involved in a financial report for a case, which had required multiple trips to the prosecutor’s office - an overseas prosecutor accusing BigHit of international grand theft. The case was more trouble than it was worth; everyone knew that BigHit wasn’t the type to commit petty theft. They had too much leverage to work as snakes under the cloak of darkness.

A full search tore the building off its foundation, until the money was found in your father’s private office. They didn’t bother to look for evidence any longer.

1. The doorknob was scratched.

2. There was dust on the surface.

3. There was coffee on the table.

4. The money was in plain sight.

5. They came in the night.

6. There was a girl in the closet.

7. She survived.

8. They didn’t.

Ticking off each point after the next, you calmed your racing heart. It was the same feeling that accompanied the flashbacks of blood. From within the closet, you watched from under the door, mouth clenched around the soft baby fat of your arm, the only thing that kept you from screaming into the open air. Using your calloused palm, you rubbed at the scars, now slightly faded with treatment from time.

You would pay them back for every injustice. You felt closer than ever to feeling their blood running down your blade, swimming in the dents of your skin, and molding with it as you showed them the same mercy they showed your parents. You could still hear their voices, sloppy words mixed with tears as they begged for mercy. Still they tried, with their last breath they still held onto the belief that the guns would be put away.

The last thing you heard before the gun shots were two words. They were filled with such malice, as you had never heard in a voice before.

You knew who said them too. After all, it was hard not to recognize BTS; BigHit’s personal dirty-work squad.

And with that, their fate was sealed. You were closer than ever to feeling their blood running down the blade of your dagger, swimming in the dents of your bones, and molding with your skin as you showed them the same mercy that they showed your parents.

Waiting until the boat was tied to the docks, and all crew members had left - another insurance policy for your identity - you alighted from the boat. Running the pad of your finger along your right wrist you stopped, feeling a gap in the silver chain that enclosed the joint. The last gap of the last bracelet - on it would go a small replica of the flag of Burma. With it, all the spaces were filled.

As it reflected the yellow light of the streetlamp, each charm shimmered with beauty. Looking at each on in turn you remembered. You saw the tears in the eyes of the woman as she choked on the same poison she had used on her sister. You heard the screams of the rich man who had abused his family as karma came back for him tenfold. You smelled the pungent stench of sex as the rapist lived through the pain he had given little girls. You tasted the salt in the air as an avid sailor met his end at the hands of sharks, forever a corrupt official. Under the lamplight, you reminisced. With the completion of another set came the inevitable question.

What now?

If it was in your hands, you would be headed to Seoul on the next flight out, far too ready to leave this life behind, but unwilling to do so until your goal was fulfilled. Sadly, it wasn’t up to you.

It was in the hands of your boss, your self-appointed instructor and ringleader. It was he who had found you in the park living off of stolen pastries and money. It was he who had developed your natural affinity for crime and theft and who controlled who you would find at the end of your gun on any given day.

A cool breeze blew in from over the ocean, sending chills down your spine like someone was playing a sonata on your nerve strings. Far too ready to leave the country, you move out from under the lamplight, letting the black of your jacket hide you from the ignorant world around you.

Within the surrounding houses there were people, innocent people, unaware of what goes on beyond their sphere of influence, unaware that you had them all in yours. It was a macabre thing to be thinking about, but even the most painful truths cannot be denied. There was nothing stopping you from scaling into their bedroom like a phantom, a conjuring of their worst dreams. Just as there was nothing stopping you from following the body into the ocean’s cold embrace. With nothing holding you back, you wondered why you never took the plunge before.

Walking for the better part of the hour brought you to the last place any respectable wanted to be seen. Having long since been abandoned by the previous owners, the building seemed ready to collapse at any moment. Deep cracks in the cement foundation would scare even the most confident from stepping inside.

Still, you ignored all that and strolled in, much more concerned with getting into the comfort of your bed. Crawling through the small window - the door had been blocked by a pile of rubble -, the sight of your things brought some relief to you. Nothing had been disturbed; everything you were was still a secret to the rest of the world.

Up the steps, ignoring the soft dust that flowed up around your boots, you made a beeline for your bed. Barely, just barely, noticing the dark-haired man who was making himself quite at home on the tattered grey couch.

Sending a small nod his way, you took off the face mask and prosthetics that helped protect your identity. It was an extra lesson that you had taught yourself and perfected with time. Within 15 minutes, it was possible for you to look like a completely different person with a fabricated personality

The greatest of your tricks were the ones when you introduced targets to your masks independently of each other and played them for the better part of the month. They would treat each differently, a good tell as to a target’s preferences. Then the prank would collapse because as much as you loved the amusement, there was the proverbial counting down until it came time for you to finish the job.

After cleaning your face of the prosthetic glue, you walked towards your teacher, delicately wiping down you face and neck of any stray water droplets. He remained impassive throughout the entire process, having grown used to your one-sided mindset. Letting your legs collapse, you maneuvered your body into a half-sitting and half-lounging position on the couch. Grunting, you told him to speak, feeling you brain already beginning to shut down from exhaustion. The work and the walk home had tired you out, especially considering it was in the early hours of the morning.

“Done?” It was a simple question, but it carried heavy weight behind it. ‘Done’ was not just the referring to the firing gun, it included everything from prep to disposal and aftercare for your supplies, all of which you had painstakingly accomplished before you set out to the docks with the black garbage bag, weighed down with both a human body and stones.

“What does it look like?” Your temper was running short at 2 in the morning and there was no force strong enough that could make you behave when you were this sleep deprived.

“Hmm.” See, the thing about your boss was that holding a conversation with him was mostly about reading between the lines. He was never blunt with his words, instead foregoing lengthy exposition for psychic communication - messages delivered between tone and tongue.

Unclasping the hook, you tossed the silver bracelet towards him as proof. “How many more do I have to do before I’m ready?” He had said nearly 6 month ago when you got this chain that this would be the last one, but there was no knowing if he was telling the truth. After all, you were close to beheading him if he had told you something you didn’t want to hear.

Your master may have once been young and able, but time had taken its payment from his life as it would do to many others; he was now well into the older years and lacked his former ability. There was no doubting that fact that if the both of you went head to head, that you would win, yet you never did try to challenge him. Mostly out of respect, but also out of the knowledge that losing him would be like losing your parents again.

“If I said you’re not ready, what would you do?”

You glared at him. You were tired of hearing those words. It seemed that throughout your life you were never ready. You weren't ready when those men came and took away your family. You weren’t ready when you found yourself in the cold, only getting by with scraps and pity for random passersby. You were never ready it would seem.

But at this point you were too tired to argue, and much too accepting of the supernatural ability your teacher had for telling the future; if he said you weren’t ready then you weren’t. Even then, there was something about the question that seemed more examinatory than before. Perhaps it was the level-headed stare he pinned you with, eyebrow bent with curiosity at your answer that clued you in to his intentions.

“I would accept the next assignment.”

“Hmm.” You swore you saw through his eyes and witnessed the cogs turning in his brain. “And if I said that you were ready?”

“I would start preparing. There is a lot to be trained for and many details to sift through.”

“Hmm.” That ‘hmm’ was the most infuriating thing of all.

“Well,” I asked.

“You’re ready.”

The following morning went by in a blur of motion. You were still tired from the lack of sleep you had suffered, but you didn’t need to really pay attention to this part anymore. The packing sequence so deeply engraved in your nerves that you never paused to doubt yourself when you stepped out the door 2 hours later.

In way, it was a morbid testament to how much this life has become part of who you are. It was difficult to imagine what your life would have been like had BigHit not betrayed your father’s trust that night. If they had just stopped being impulsive and took the time to think; say what you want about organized crime, it was built on the laws of the jungle and a seed of doubt grows and festers. Your father never stood a chance; he was dead the moment the man from his team decided to earn a little extra on the side.

You know this now. You know a lot of things now that you didn’t before.

And what you did know came from the one man who rarely spoke. After your master had approved the target at BigHit, he disappeared with the morning fog; never really knowing where he had been or where he went to with the sun peeking over the horizon. Still, you deduced that he must still be nearby, having discovered the manila packet filled with your travel details. First and foremost, was the passport declaring you to be of Korean nationality. It was easy enough to play off if you claimed you were born in said country. It also had inside the telltale colors of a Burmese visa. Running a finger over the perforated stamp, you wondered at the craftsmanship.

Forgery was a skill that you defined in very broad terms. It was an art form at its core; the most perverse kind, but still qualified enough to fit under the same category as the greats. The ability to mimic someone else, especially with the professed claim of the uniqueness of each person is a great feat; even if that ability was used for less than ideal means.

Your cover was simple enough. According to the information, you were a freelance photographer returning from an assignment in Burma. There were some pages depicting your ‘travel itinerary’, conveniently including the same port that last night’s ship had departed from. It also included some printed photographs of historic sites and monuments that you had supposedly visited and photographed.

After the passports and identification details, he had clipped together your golden key; plane tickets. They were for a flight at noon out of the nearest airport and one-way to Seoul. Averting your eyes from the rest of the content, you noted the time on the wall. Thankfully he had allowed you a little grace period before you had to leave for the airport.

Then finally at the end, were the documents that you were most interested in. Printed on crisp white paper were the profiles of the top team in BigHit. BTS was a paradox in many ways. Many people knew them, yet at the same time they were clueless. They seemed to be a small group but did the work of dozens. They were young but played games with the mind of a seasoned professional. They were like you.

The profiles were limited in how much they could provide in terms of personal biographies and most of what was contained in the test was collected from local sources and eyewitnesses that saw the youth before they were dragged behind closed doors to be trained by their fathers. The strength of this group lay in hereditary lineage. For multiple generations, the task had passed from father to son. This ensured that secrets of the trade remained just that - secrets.

You were sorely tempted to forget the flight and experimentally began thumbing the files, relishing the feeling of the way your revenge seemed closer than ever. But you needed to get to the airport and make your way through security. Thankfully most of your stuff would be checked in, and your backpack only contained the few necessities you carried from mission to mission. Steeling yourself for the weeks to come, you let out a silent wish to the heavens. You would see this through to the end; whether it ended with your corpse or theirs.

Casting a last glance around the room, you closed the door on the remaining supplies in the room. There was nothing much left, mostly wrappings from packagings but the biggest blow to your heart was the makeup you had to leave on the counters. The master always had professionals come and clean after you left. They were in charge of removing all your DNA from the place, this also included the makeup that you used for that mission.

Thankfully, he always arranged for new materials to be on site in the next place that you lived, but it pained you to have to recreate you three most iconic personalities from scratch each time.

Since dabbling in FX makeup for missions, you had probably portrayed no less than 50 personas, but there were a select three that you found yourself coming back to. The beauty was that they were so different, yet so generic that they became obsolete after a while in the memories of anyone who had come into contact with them.

The first, and your personal favorite, was Eli. He was a roughed up street rat with a penchant for making trouble and the aptitude to flirt with anyone he met, be it a man or a woman. He always got along well with the older women with his youthful, boyish charm. There was an art to his Casanova speech and his laid-back demeanor that seemed to draw eyes away from wallets and purses.

The second was an older woman of around the age of 28. Levi was a successful business woman with the kind of gait that made it seem as it she was on a mission. With her tight mini-skirts and heal the length of a dagger, everyone noticed when she walked in and when she walked out. Never a hair out of place, she was the weapon against older men or young aspiring businessmen attracted to a powerful woman. It also helped that she walked in and when she walked out. It also helped that she knew exactly how to move to gain an advantage.

The last, and simplest of them all, was a timid kitten. Adding a little fat to all areas of your body, you transformed into a girl who jumped at the sound of a book hitting the floor. Never looking men in the eye, Eve shuffled forward with the kind of steps that made you think she was 5 seconds from bolting in the other direction. She was the easiest to play - after all, she rarely spoke and was mostly there as the kind of character that would pass by unnoticed in a crowd.

With these three personas, as well as your own, you were set to take on whatever, or whoever came in your way. The decision of who to use at BigHit first was still up in the air, but you were pretty sure the decision would end up being Eli. Levi would get you too much unwanted attention and Eva just didn't match the image that BigHit wanted. Further still, Eli would be able to run through the underground circles with relative ease considering his aesthetic. Even without the arguments, you would still have chosen Eli. He was the favorite after all.

Continuing to make your way towards your gate, you only paused for a moment to buy a simple meal to tide you over until you landed in Korea. It was already too late in the day for breakfast, so you settled on some noodles at a corner shop in the airport. The stall was small and well hidden from prying eyes in the far corner of the terminal. Casting a small glance around, it also seemed to be in the blind spot of the small cameras dotting the ceiling of the building. Still, you had learned to never risk anything.

Thus you sat for the next half hour, slowly making your way through a bowl of noodle soup, payed for in cash, with your hood pulled as low as it could go. All in all, it wasn’t the best you’d ever had – Levi had been treated to many expensive restaurants – but it was enough for what was required of it. Resting your body at the table, your eyes couldn’t keep themselves from wandering to the other people in the airport. Each with the different façade. There were serious businessmen on phones, arguing about something or another as they raced towards sole destination – as there were in any airport. Yet, conversely there were also families on vacations, children leashed in one hand and bags held in the other, getting side-traced by the smallest trinket in the shops lining the walkways.

From between the murmurs around you, you could almost see a little girl running through legs towards the candy store. The naivety in her eyes shining bright as she continued on ceaselessly chattering about something in the way that only other children were able to understand. It was hurried and pitched, the prospect of a sweet more exciting than grammar. Following behind her came a man and woman, the women had your face while the man shared your eye and hair color. Hand linked, they laughed together at the little girl in the cotton dress, and you know that they would give into their daughter like they always did.

Yet before you could continue to watch them, they disappeared behind another stranger. Pushing the empty plate away, you held your head in your hands. The cool metal of the bracelet let refreshing wherever it contacted your warm skin. The need to catch up on sleep was real – the 5 hours you got after your master left not really working to fill the deficit your mission had caused – it was moment like this when you hated him for drilling a 7 am wake-up call into your circadian rhythm.

With a sharp ding, the screen announced that your flight had started boarding. Deciding that there was no putting it off, you made your way towards the glowing sign of your gate and followed the crowd of people until you made it to your seat. As always, it was an economy, nothing surprising about that.

Since entering the vicinity, you had mostly kept to yourself, which people tended to notice. You cut an imposing figure among the rest of the people scaring away those that might have initiated a conversation with you. Some took small glances at your figure, but non screamed that they were coming for your life, so you tended towards ignoring them. Even your row mates decided to keep to themselves, immediately losing themselves in the inflight entertainment that the airline provided. The only downside to your seat was that it would be even more difficult to read the files that your master had presented you with. Wandering eyes were common enough on airplanes and you were always in fear that it would be the wrong person catching a word or two of what you were reading.

Sinking back into the cushioned seats, you debated whether taking a short nap would prove beneficial in comparison to reading the profiles. In the end, your training kicked in and procrastination became a foreign word. Submitting to your conscience, you ordered a cup of black coffee and pulled out the files.

There really wasn’t anything new that you hadn’t already discovered in your independent investigation of the bangtan members. Since the moment that you could, you had been keeping tabs on the boys. After all, killing them would be the only way to take revenge. The BTS lineage would end with them, just as yours would end with you. The only thing of interest to you were their positions and newfound specialties. Eli was a very moldable character. There of course was a base aloofness that manages to charm even the most hardheaded folk, but specifics were the variables that you played with. In order to take down Bangtan, you would have to create the perfect character.

Mostly, he would remain the same as always, pickpocketing anything worth filching and maintaining that cherubic smile that one couldn’t tell if he really was absent-minded or he truly was too adept at acting. Skimming the profiles of the younger members, you noticed that one of them had a similar talent. Kim Taehyung, you had heard of him. He was one of the more public members and from what you had heard of him, he was very good with his hands. That’s not a problem. Eli would just have to be better than he was. It would be worth it to test Eli out on the streets for a couple days before starting the mission. The other holes would be carved out after an initial interaction; there should always be some room left for mistakes.

Last known sightings included a mall. That seemed odd, but then again, you supposed that even mafia needed new wardrobes occasionally. You wondered if your luck would be good enough to collide with them at the mall, but that would be secondary. First, you had to establish Eli in the underground society.

There were two way to go about it. The first option was just to commit one big heist and make a scene. Or you could just rise slowly, committing small pickpocketing jobs and become famous from the sheer number that you were able to accomplish.

Details would be hashed out later, but you were only two hours into the flight and the caffeine was wearing off. Deciding that your mental health mattered more now, you packed up the files and locked your backpack. Pulling out the provided blankets, you curled up to get some well-deserved shut eye.

Your dreams were mostly empty promises. Nothing but the vast darkness stretching before you, once filled with fantastical ideas but now painted in muted colors like even you subconscious was restricting you from true happiness. You knew what that happiness was; the end of the Bangtan lineage. Yet, it still sat poorly in your stomach. With soft mumbles, you fell deeper into the void, unable to fully comprehend exactly where you were going.

A couple hours of blissful sleep passed before the flight attendant with her manicured nails gently woke you up in order to inform you of your arrival in Seoul. In accordance with their regulation, you put away the provided sleeping materials and put your seat back into that position that was somehow perfect yet irritating for your spine.

Popping the piece of gum in your mouth, you closed your eyes in an attempt to withstand the pressure change as the airplane landed. You may be a trained operative, but your body never really cooperated with planes. Personally, you preferred the steady oscillation of a train or car, both of which were equally dangerous considering your tendency to fall asleep in them. Still, personal partially aside, planes were faster so the only thing you could do was grit your teeth and live through it. You chanted your mantra in your head, it was a constant reaffirmation of your goal and served to calm down with the familiar weight of the words in your mind.

1. The doorknob was scratched.

2. There was dust on the surface.

3. There was coffee on the table.

4. The money was in plain sight.

5. They came in the night.

6. There was a girl in the closet.

7. She survived.

8. They didn’t.

By the time you finished, the plane had touched down as was slowly making its way to a gate and you were a step closer to your final goal.

The feeling of being in Seoul was electric. The very air seemed to caress your hair, teasing and taunting you to speed up the timeline of your plan. It was a sore temptation to just throw your carefully constructed plan to the wind and waltz through the front door with machine guns and just extinguish the magazines, but that would be letting them off too easy. They deserved nothing less than the ultimate suffering, watching on as you pulled apart BigHit from under them, bit by bit, limb from limb.

Waving over a taxi, you climbed into the back and rattled off the address of the apartment that your master had bought for you. It was nothing crazy expensive, simplistic enough for a person receiving the pay that a college student would have. Small and compact with a single bedroom sectioned off from the main space, it rent was pretty low and it suited your need. Basic furnishings were missing, but that was expected for a person who had just moved into the area.

Deciding that it would be smarter to explore the area, you threw on more casual clothes after washing the stink of the airport off your body. Making your way into the sunlight you took a moment to absorb the feel of warmth the sun on your skin. This was your favorite moment - the post-mission bliss where the stress of the past was only a distant memory, at least for a while. Shoving your hands into your pockets you randomly choose a direction and began walking. Neither path seemed to hold anything special, so it really didn’t matter.

Your stroll was relaxing to say the least, the only tangent being when you stopped in a cafe to grab a snack and a cooling drink. Juice in hand, you continued to walk. The sky was just starting to show hints of the approaching night when you found yourself staring at the catalyst of your mission, Coex Mall. The building itself far surpassed any malls you had visited before and it seemed as if nothing was lacking as you entered and walk past clothing and cigarette stores.

As you walked, you wondered what BTS would come here for. They were known for being a secretive group so why they ever would step in such a crowded place in the middle of broad daylight was a mystery to all. They were a dangerous group, so it could not have been anything good, yet that still didn’t seem to stop stories circulating among women about their so-called ‘talents’.

Well, your feet had brought you here, so might as well get a headstart on making a mental layout of the mall. Sure, online maps worked to a degree, but there was no better cartographer than the one who walked every inch of the territory. Besides, it would also give you a chance to look at furniture shops. Your apartment was barren of even a mattress.

Stopping every so often, you finally made you way to the area of the store reserved for those lucky bastards who had more money than they knew what to do with. Many name brands showcased their wares proudly in diamond-proofed glass cases and behind burly security guards who glared openly at shoppers who looked as if they belonged anywhere but here.

You were one of the unfortunate victims with worn blue jeans and a comfortable sweater. Nothing about you screamed rich, but that didn’t matter to you. You knew what your bank account held, stocked with payments from jobs taken over the span of 4 years. Passing the first couple was easy, but the more guards that watched you with wary eyes, to more annoyed you became, but those thoughts all disappeared when you heard the whispers. They were hushed at first, singular words slipping past lips to make their way into your ears.

They were here.

No wait, not all of them. Only two.

But that was enough for you. Yes, you had previously discarded the thought of speeding up your plans, but since you were already scoping out the mall, why not scope out the targets while you were at it. Besides, you were never going to meet them with this face after today. The only person they would see would be the devilish smile of Eli, corners turned upwards with the knowledge that he knew more than anyone else in that room.

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titusmoody · 4 years

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Ranking the SM64 levels

3 Bob-omb Battlefield: I’m starting the list with my third favorite because I can explain every other level in terms of this one. This is easily the most impressive level in terms of design. SM64 sorts its levels into “chunks” that connect in various ways. The exact borders between chunks and how finely we chop the level up into different chunks doesn’t quite matter. I find I like chunks better if they 1) interconnect so you can get to multiple different chunks from wherever you are. Bonus points if the game uses the Y axis to create some one-way connections like Bob-omb battlefield’s bridge that spits you back out near the beginning of the level if you fall. Extra bonus points if you can use some precise jumping to get around those limitations. 2) Has its own distinct element, either visually or mechanically, like the little area with the mounds when you climb up the very first ramp in Bob-omb battlefield. 3) Contains a pretty clear “first star route” to one specific other chunk, like the path up the ramp at the beginning, or the mountain “weenie” that you can see a path to when you get beyond the chain chomp and bridge. 4) There are at least a couple chunks that the first star route doesn’t touch at all, but you can still see. Both the area with the stumps you can run in circles around as well as the floating island you can see from your ascent up the mountain are good examples. The only reason this isn’t #1 on my personal list is because it is focused mainly on beginners who have literally never encountered a 3d game before. Climbing the mountain and freeing the chain chomp are both great, and the mountain contains plenty of opportunities to get up faster using more difficult jumps. On the other hand, it uses the wing cap and fairly precise cannon aiming, the first and second least fun things in the game.

Now, onto the worst levels:

15 Dire, Dire Docks: While swimming isn’t as awful to control as I remember it being when I was a kid, it’s still not great. This level uses currents to suck you towards death pits in a couple places, which isn’t fun. A few of the stars either include or are mostly built around having you navigate the weak end of the current, and there’s just nothing good about it. Plus, what’s the deal with water levels having segments connected only by lengthy narrow tunnels? Probably a loading thing, but it doesn’t help the design. The not-underwater part of this level is only used to make you do cycle-based pole jumping which is even worse than the death currents.

14 Tiny-Huge Island: Eh, this was such a creative idea for a level that I don’t begrudge it for not working. This level has chunks that only connect if you are the appropriate size, which is a good idea. Around half the things you need to do to get the stars are pretty good, too. However, big mario is just too big. If you turn at the wrong time you go into sliding down mode and there’s never a platform big enough for you to get your balance before falling off the mountain to your death. The level also feels a little unvaried. The chunks aren’t distinct and reuse the same few elements throughout without getting more challenging as you progress along the “first star route”.

13 Tall, Tall Mountain: This is one of two linear levels in the game, and is by far the less interesting. SM64 approaches linear levels as spirals upwards. In this case, around the mountain. I think there’s only a single place where you can take two different routes up. There’s not a lot to say. The platforming feels perfectly fine throughout the ascent. The slide is the most well-hidden place in the game, and I might have gotten frustrated looking for it if I hadn’t seen speedruns. This may have been ranked a little higher if it weren’t for the star that requires the most precise cannon aim in the game.

12 Cool, Cool Mountain: It’s a neat idea to start at the top of a level and be asked to descend in various ways. I think the problem is that too much of what you’ll actually be doing is trying to precisely control your slide down the same stretch and jump away at exactly the right place.

11 Rainbow Ride: This level isn’t structured like any other in the game. There are two points where the main path branches--once into three and the other time into two--but none of those branches reconnect, so it’s more like a path with a few self-contained sections off of it. I like the platforming quite a bit in this level, but don’t like how disconnected everything is from everything else. The main problem, though, is that the main path consists mostly of waiting around on a magic carpet with nothing to do but the occasional trivial jump. The difficulty of the platforming this late into the game means that deaths will happen, and it’s really a detriment that there’s no way around waiting on the carpets.

10 Lethal Lava Land: This level gets credit for being exactly what the game needed after the first set of levels + the first boss. Going into the basement for the first time and encountering a completely flat level is a big surprise, and the tiny safe paths surrounded by lava make the level look extremely perilous. The level is actually pretty tiny, which leaves each chunk with only enough space for one (1) thing to do. The interior of the volcano sure does add a lot, though. It’s like a miniature Tall, Tall Mountain with only a couple of stars.

9 Hazy Maze Cave: This level is pretty okay. The clumps are separated from each other by corridors and doors, which is why it seems like a “maze” but if you smushed them together the layout would be pretty typical. The clumps might be the most varied between each other, too. And this is the only level that contains a mini-level that unlocks a different cap.

8 Shifting Sand Land: The pyramid is cool. Having successive stars where you’re asked to: get to it, explore the inside, then find the secret entrance with a boss is unlike anything else in the game, and it’s neat. Things aren’t as interesting outside the pyramid, but there’s just barely enough there with enough variety to keep things fine. The outside is probably about as good as Lethal Lava Land, and the pyramid is vastly better than the inside of the volcano.

7 Jolly Roger Bay: Okay, I lied a little bit about Shifting Sand Land. In Jolly Roger Bay, there is one star you get by swimming into a sunken ship and hitting something that makes the water drain out. And if you’re thinking about it, that must mean that the ship was resurfacing. Sure enough, when you go back in for the next star, there’s a ship on the surface now! I think that is a little like the pyramid situation, though not quite as cool. This one ranks higher because it’s the only other level outside of Bob-omb Battlefield that feels like a playground where you can basically do anything that seems fun without penalty and if you do well, you’ll be rewarded. Unfortunately, it does the same long, narrow tunnel thing as Dire, Dire Docks. It’s also too easy to be particularly interesting, but of course with its placement in the game, it should not be any more difficult.

6 Thwomp’s Fortress: Most people’s second level, I assume. Does a good job at establishing patterns so that you know that Bob-omb Battlefield isn’t just a fluke, the whole game is that way. It’s a little on the small side, and the platforms that retract into the walls result in a lot of deaths that feel cheap for being so early in the game, but aside from that, it’s all pretty solid.

5 Wet-Dry World: Like with Lethal Lava Land, the game knows exactly what to hit us with to open up a new area after a boss. The goals become a lot less obvious here. There is no obvious “path” that leads through the chunks, so you’re mostly on your own. On the other hand, this is another level that doesn’t punish you for doing things wrong, it’s just more picky about rewarding you than earlier levels.

4 Snowman’s Land: More linear and more punishing than Wet-Dry World, SM64 knows when to break its established rules and when not to. This level does pretty much everything right. I particularly like that they brought back the “bullies” from Lethal Lava Land with the added challenge of ice physics, the hidden area in the igloo, and using the penguin as a shield against the wind.

2 Big Boo’s Haunt: This one uses the normal level approach to make the level feel like a real place. The separate, self-contained rooms would be too limiting, but the connections between the first, second, and third floor and the doors between rooms, plus the balconies make it just as nicely interconnected as everything else. In fact, the balconies in particular are clever real-world examples of ways that actual places have similar designs to SM64 levels. Most of the game is openly and even proudly abstract and artificial. The tension between realistic spaces and interesting level design is still being played out in games today, but here in 1996 we already see that Nintendo already knew what they were doing.

1 Tick Tock Clock: Here’s the other linear level. Based on the criteria I laid out right at the beginning, it seems like a linear level couldn’t be placed this highly, but although I’ve only mentioned “platforming” in passing so far, that really is the absolute core of the game. You run and you jump. If those two things didn’t feel good to do, SM64 would be a bad game regardless of how great the level design is. Tick Tock Clock gives you nothing but opportunities to run and jump well. If it’s like any other part of the game, it’s like being outside the castle right when you start, while you’re figuring out what the controls are. Only now, you already know how to do everything you need to do to beat the game, and you get a chance to do a lot of it.

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toomanyfamdom · 4 years

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Not all love is physical

Messages for a special girl on a special day. @dannixy

To my chaos twin,

When I first started on Tumblr, I thought, ‘no one is going to want to talk to me or like me. Shoot why did I do this?’. And that happened for the first few weeks I started. Those weeks were hard, I guess. I followed literally everyone and mostly posted for my own enjoyment. Then, you posted. You posted about some group chat with writers and to not be afraid to ask to join. Me being the lonely sap I was, I took a leap of faith and sent you my username. When the group chat was first formed, I was so scared. You all were so confidant and lovely, and just amazing people that I couldn’t believe were real. I never thought I could live up to the level that everyone set by their writing and personalities. Then I started talking to you, Danni. I have no idea what it was about, all I know is that we clicked. Something told me that you (and everyone else xx) were special and that I could always count on you. And from then on, I knew we were going to be good friends, maybe even family. You made it so easy and comfortable to just let go and be myself. You made me not worry what others thought of me and to just enjoy writing and not compare it to other works. I have only known you and the family for a short period of time, but honestly, it feels like we’ve been together for years. When I was having just an awful day you stepped up, and took control and calmed me down. Not even looking back once and basically dropped everything to help me, and that is truly amazing. I have never met you, which is obvious, but you have a heart of gold. You’re loyal, honest, funny, caring, beautiful, chaotic, a bean, supportive (ahem, POLE), and just anything one could ever wish for. I hope you know how amazing you are. You are my chaotic twin. I love causing trouble with you, ticking off mom (love ya mom xx)(FOR THE POLE FOR THE POLE FOR THE POLE), converting people to our ways (...you know who you are), yelling at random things, bullying each other (stop messing with my spelling man), and just talking nonstop. I know I can always be honest with you and I can definitely be insane with you.

I heard this song the other day, and I couldn’t help but think of you and the family. Particularly, one lyric. Which was:

“But if only you could see yourself in my eyes. You'd see you shine, you shine”

In everyone’s eyes, and especially mine, you are extraordinary. Don’t you ever forget that, love.

Happy birthday, you beautiful soul.

All my love, Ayla

Xx @all-my-love-cathy

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Hey you little bean it’s your birthday and I just wanna say how incredibly proud I am of you. You’re like a little sister to me and I couldn't ask for a better person to be called idiot by x

You're always here for me and I know that I can count on you whenever and wherever. I just want you to know how much I appreciate that and love you for that!

You're one incredibly talented, strong, independent and smart gal and I am so so SO proud of you and of the person you’ve become. You might be way younger than me but I believe that there's so much I can learn from you.

Never change!!! (except maybe cut down the gay disaster, but i mean we working on that)

I hope you have the bestestestestetest of days.

All the love and hugs in the universe, you deserve it!!!

Your idiot xx @sarahzarahh

__________

To Danni, my precious little chaotic bean noodle who I love with all my heart.

So, this is a surprise I’m hoping. I know I once talked about this with Ayla, your fabulous twin, in front of you. But I’m not sure if you thought we were serious. Mom is serious. Dead serious. And it is because I you. I know things haven’t been the easiest, especially these past few weeks. But I want you to know just how amazing you are, as a creator, a TIEF, a writer, a queen, a sister, a bean, a daughter, a friend, and overall a lovely person. Danni, you were the one who asked me to join the group chat, and I have never been happier in my life. You have this amazing way of being able to make others comfortable and elicit the most hilarious and random jokes out of us. You never fail to cheer me up, especially when I am a bi disaster. Or when I am stuck in sad bi hours. And you have proved to me that calling someone an idiot can be affectionate. Even when you and Ayla team up on me (still not buying her a pole btw.) I can’t stop smiling. You add this chaotic and funny spice to my life and I shall eternally love you for that (but please don’t choke on a smartie). You know how to get me motivated and when to joke with me. And you have hilarious reactions to my jokes (I swear you are not actually a disappointment, I love youuuu. [but no pole] ) And you are such an amazing artist, like :0 (you were right, my eye did stop burning.) You are so special and I wish you could see just how much you mean to me. I never made friends who I felt so close with online before! (#I HATE TIME ZONES) And I’m not just complimenting you because it’s your birthday or because I am a hype mom. Danni, I mean it when I say you have impacted me so much. Look, I know I’m a lot, with my zillion ideas, huge word counts, and never ending list of puns, pick up lines, and stories of me being a flailing idiot, but you never once made me feel anything less than loved. So that’s what I want you to feel, always loved. Know that the fam and I will always have your back. You are such a beautiful girl and talented writer who has changed my life and not only helped me find new friends, but a family. Never forget that you have an amazing gift, an ability to make those around you smile. Happy Birthday to one of the Anne Boleyns in the group (even if you deny it), and to the best chaotic bean noodle in the world. I love you Danni. 💚💙💚💙

(P.S. I’m on Newspaper so you know I only spread the truth. :D ;3 )

XO my chaos child, you truly are one of a kind, no category.

Love you. Love you. Love you. Love you. Love you. Love you.

- Maddy the bi disaster hype mom who writes way too much. <3 @thenameisnoone

__________

Hey Danni! I know I didn’t write as much as the rest but your a beautiful writer! Whenever I check the Parrlyn tag and see that you’ve posted I immediately stop what I’m doing and read the masterpiece! You were one of the first people who spoke to me on Instagram and I couldn’t be more thankful for you doing that! I hope you have the best birthday and stay chaotic!!!! x @politics-notmything

__________

Danni,

Hey babes! Keeping this short and sweet. Thanks for making me feel more ancient than I already do, but another year older, another year hopefully wiser. You have been nothing but lovely and wonderful in the short amount of time that I have known you and I am so grateful that I can call you my friend. Have an absolutely wonderful birthday, Danni, and here’s to many, many more! Sending you all the love and light.

x Allie @little-bit-lost-and-found

__________

Danni,

I'm not sure what I can say that hasn’t been said already. So I guess I just want to say thank you. I was so anxious when you first added me to the group chat but now I'm so incredibly happy that I took that leap of faith and met this most incredibly family, so thank you for making the chat. Thank you for calling with me all any time (sometimes for over 2 hours), for making sausages with me, for being the test run with my parents, for editing that essay for me (I still ended up crying but itS OKAY), for putting up with me, for listening to my shit, for comforting me, for you (and Ayla) converting (read: corrupting) me, for being a true TIEF and for just being the most amazing friend, sister and person. I hope your day is awesome an you get royally spoilt. I hope this next year is a good one for you and many good things come your way. May you find good relationships, platonic or otherwise and may you be very happy. I LOVE YOU SM WTF

~ your baby-but-not-actually-younger sister, Hannah xx

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theworldsoul · 3 years

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the reason for the tyranny was that their leader saw the future and said hell no this aint happening and got parnoid but his paranoia and actionscaused it?

Grayson hoisted himself up onto the metal fence and began to climb it. So what if it was “ Private Government-Owned Property”? They were useless. Liars. An obvious example was the very fence he was climbing. It had a sign up on it claiming it was electric, but then how was he climbing it without a single shock? Put the government in charge of the Sahara desert and a couple weeks later we’d be in debt for sand! He was at the top of the fence now. He jumped off and stuck the landing perfectly. He had always been livin’ on the lam, just never outside of District 2. This wasn't new to him. Just as he landed, a loud siren began to wail:

“ BEEEEE-DO-WEEEEEEEE! BEEEEEE-DO-WEEEEEEEEEE! BEEEEE-DO-WEEEEEEEE!” Toxic red lights washed over his skin in waves of neon. He had to get out of there, and fast! If the cops caught him on “Private Government-Owned Property” with a black backpack full of banned music, bullets, and a pistol, he would be in some deep water. I mean, he already was in deep water, but it would just be deeper then, as they would ask questions. Ones he would rather not answer.

So Grayson ran. He ran far away from here, from the little town of Lachlan, the very district it was in, and maybe the entire world, just as he had wanted to do his whole life. He had never wanted anything more than to just get out of this godforsaken place. Since he was hated by all, nobody would really mind if he disappeared for one or two days. Or one or two years. Or one or two forevers. Grayson's heart beat fast , thundering in his chest so hard he thought it might explode! Blood thundered through his veins loudly and steadily, matching his feet thumping against the dry earth, like a jungle drum of sorts.

Jungle drum. Song number 13 in his ever-growing cassette collection. They were in a backpack on his back right now, bumping and clashing around with his walkman, some papers, and headphones. All forms of music in The Dreaming, the land in which he lived, had been banned. You were not allowed to sing ,dance to , make, own, buy, or sell music. All books of fiction were banned, only nonfiction were permitted. He had some audio books on cassette tapes in his backpack as well. And then there were the bullets and the gun. But those were just the risks of being a messenger for notorious criminals. He didn’t care about risk. Hell, he would end his life now if he felt like it. He was given a small sum as a messenger, but the thrill paid for itself.

Suddenly, a man burst out a building near the fence. “ Get back here!” He yelled. Grey ran faster. The man followed. Sky, dark. Grass, dying. But most importantly: clock, ticking. The man suddenly gave up , and Grayson thought he had finally won. But the man had a walkie-talkie, a small yet important detail he had missed. He ran, and in the distance, he saw….

Freedom. Another fence. The border that separated The Second District from The Third District. He needed to make it to The Third District , because the moment he was beyond that border Lachlan police had no control over him. Soule police did. And since he had only committed crimes against the town of Lachlan and not the city of Soule, they wouldn’t lock him up. He had other reasons to leave, all listed in one of the papers in his backpack.

By now he was so close to the fence it hurt. Escape into the big city was just out of reach of his fingertips. Just as he was about three and a half arm lengths away from it, a cop car swerved in front of him, nearly running him over! A policewoman popped out of the vehicle and told him he was under arrest, blah blah blah. She reached into her utility belt for a pair of handcuffs, but before she could get them, Grayson delivered a vicious uppercut into her face. The policewoman collapsed onto the grassy ground, and Grey took his pistol from out his backpack and loaded it up. He pointed it at her temple. “ Sorry.” He pulled the trigger. “ Not sorry.” Her eyes rolled up in her head and her muscles relaxed. He saw the bullet dig into her skull, the way the blood dripped over her jagged skull.

At least she had it quick, at least she didn't have to starve to death like everyone else in The Dreaming. Heh. He tried to be proud, but all he felt was….. nothing. Numbness. Like he was stuck in a state of no state at all. Then a sense of urgency returned. He knew backup police were coming. So he quickly vaulted over the fence and broke into a run, yelling jauntily : “ THE SYSTEM IS BROKEN! I HATE THE GOVERNMENT! PEOPLE STARVE, BUT HEY, POPULATION CONTROL IS ALL YOU BASTARDS CARE ABOUT! AND YOU BANNED ALL FORMS OF CREATIVITY, AND YOU CENSOR OPINIONS THAT DIFFER FROM YOURS! THEY ALL DESERVE TO TRY TO LIVE IN THE WORLD THEY HAVE MADE! WITHOUT SOCIETIES THERE WILL BE NO SILENCE” He wasn't too sure whom he was addressing or why, but he felt alive. He had butterflies in his stomach, the kind you get from free falling. Grayson ran , out into a new land. Out into the city.

IT FOLLOWS LUCY AS SHE DIES AND THEN GRAYSON AS HE MAKES HIS WAY THROUGH THE BIG CITY OF SO-UHL AND FINDS THE GUY HE HAS TO DELIVER SOMETHING TO AND ADD MORE DESCRIPTION TOO

Lucy stared back at the crowd of people. Aiming at her mouth they threw rotten tomatoes at her. She tried to move but being tied to a wooden pole makes it fairly difficult. “ Witch! Evil sympathiser of those against the royal king!” They sneered. Tears burned her cheeks and blurred her vision.

“ Burn me, not! For I am but a peasant girl in the height of her youth! I request that you may take pity on thee, and let me be free to roam!” She protested helplessly. She squirmed, trying to somehow shake loose the ropes tied around her. They dug into her soft skin, breaking and bruising it. A tomato splattered in her hair, then another on her dress. “ Help! Oh God help thee! I beg of you!” She screamed. A man looking quite smart in a suit , the mayor, struck a match against the wood pole she was tied to. She watched in horror as the pole began to burn. The fire festered, and the flames soon reached her shoulders and spread quickly. Lucy lets out a bloodcurdling scream while the people witnessing her death cheer with great joy. “The witch is gone! The witch is dead!” They cried happily. “ Long live the king! God save the queen!” They were oblivious to her crippling pain. Her suffering. Her ultimate death. She just wanted some justice, that was all.

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supersoldiersruined-me · 5 years

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I Could Never

A/N: This is so late, my brain hasn’t been my best friend lately. But, surprisingly, as I’d mentioned, school seems to have kickstarted my creativity. So here I am with a belated birthday gift for my space girlfriend @stanclub! I’ve already told you and keep saying it but I’m so happy to have you in my life! (at least I’m posting this while we’re still in Leo season! lol) 💕 Warning: um...cursing? no smut in that one. bit of angst. rpf Word count: 1.9k

Main Masterlist | Drabbles Masterlist

You had come home once to a fully decorated house, speechless before the immensity of work that was put into it. You hadn’t been able to spend Christmas at home, and Chris wanted to make sure you’d get a taste of it. After swearing that the band-aids on his fingers didn’t cover his struggle with the Christmas tree needles, you had settled down with hot cocoa in front of the fire and played board games until the wee hours of the morning.

On your birthday the year prior, a twelve person table was filled with family and friends who sat around a hearty brunch; his mom - who had grown to love you like her own daughter - joked about the pots of failed hollandaise sauce her son had expertly burned. His final result was amazing though.

Needless to say that Chris had settled a high level of expectation for surprises; that you soon found out was taken for granted. Flowers, amongst other things, were usually delivered to your house on special occasions, no exception. But only fresh-cut grass is being blown onto the rain stained pavement as you stare at an empty porch, and the sudden chill has you rushing back inside after one last quick glance around.

With your head well rested on the cold ceramic of your stand-alone shower, you let the warm water travel down your body, flushing away the sting of disappointment. Disappointment that, you’ve convinced yourself, holds a lot more meaning than simply being left giftless on your birthday. Salty tears are washed away; gut shivers have seized their attack on your poor nerves. Once the handle of the shower deprives you of warmer water, you settle to give him the rest of the day, while absentmindedly patting yourself dry and heading out to the patio for some fresh air.

The faint buzz of your phone on the wooden chair startles you out of a daydream.

“Hello?”

“Hey, kid! How’s it going?” A familiar voice echoes through the speaker with a spark of joy.

“Seen better. How about you, Mackie?” You know he can tell exactly how bad you feel, but he’s learned not to bother people with too many questions. Mostly you.

“T’sall good,” he adds, still bashful. “Hey, do you think you can do me a solid?”

A small sigh escapes your lips. It’s faint enough so he doesn’t feel guilty for asking, but quite effective to relieve a bit of tension in your heart.

“Sure. Seems like I have the day to myself anyway...” You know he can deal with your sarcasm - being a fluent speaker himself.

An hour later and a bottle of milk down, you’re sitting on the couch with his youngest in arm, watching that one scene in Moana on repeat. The floor has become the most hazardous place to walk, but the smell of fresh cookies, and the sweet snoring of the toddler seem to have cheered you up after the frustrating morning. The location of his house on a hill makes for the most beautiful sunset view. The rays bounce on the pool outside and heat up the room wonderfully. Soon the moon would take its place and begin another day, and the thought of having spent it alone brings back a small headache.

You’re setting the baby in his bed when a knock at the door startles you. You tiptoe through the dark house out of habit, which comes in handy for the situation. Not bothered to look out the small window by the door, you spring it open in one swift movement, and your knees practically give in when your eyes meet his baby blues. Before you can put a word in, a series of giggles comes from somewhere on his left; not only indicating that he has company, but that this company is female and apparently trying too hard to impress him. He’s wearing a black shirt, neatly tucked into some clean jeans; just the way you had recently suggested he tried. Hair slicked back and glimmer in his eyes. Dreamy, as usual. Clearly he wasn’t here to help babysit Mackie’s kids.

Another minute goes on before their laughter dims down and Chris seems to acknowledge your existence.

“Um, listen,” he begins through choked laughs. “I’m gonna need you to put this on.”

You look down at the black strip of fabric in his hand.

“Why should I?” The young girl hisses at your answer and bro-punches him on the arm.

“You said she was feisty. But man, she got you there.” You assume that your eyes dart through her soul because her sparkly smile immediately disappears. She glances quickly at Chris, and waves her hands in front of her before proceeding. “Oh, god. Look, I’m...” Her eyes shut close as she realises what you might have been insinuating. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I’m just here to take your place. I’m Anthony’s usual babysitter. Chris called me because he wants to ta-”

Her story is punctuated with Chris’ hand on her mouth. His brows rise up as a warning, and the poor girl snakes around you and into the house, taking the hint.

“I don’t know what you want, Chris but I’ve had a long day and I just-”

“Hold on, hold on!” His hand circles your wrist when you try to walk past him. “Y/N, okay look. I don’t want to break the surprise but please, put the blindfolds on and come with me.”

A small laugh comes out in a sigh, and your head shamefully drops down. So there is a surprise.

His finger carefully tips your chin up so he can look at you again.

“You thought I had forgotten?” His accusation is nothing but a friendly remark. Shivers run up your spine at the grin he offers next. “I could never,” he whispers a bit too close to your cheek. The last cloud dissipates and the stars begin to shine brighter. All of a sudden the air is a lot easier to breathe, although your heart seems to run faster.

His hands stretch the fabric in front of you, and you comply to the invitation. With your back towards him so he can secure it properly over your eyes, careful not to tangle your hair into it, you feel like a little kid waiting to unwrap their presents - albeit you’re the one being wrapped up. You curse yourself for doubting him. The ‘I could never’ replays in your mind, oddly pulling new sensations out of you - added to the fact that his breath tickles your neck with his proximity.

The ride is quite short and only makes his intentions much more mysterious. The only option to be ticked off the hypothetical list is him taking you out downtown, which would have taken twice the time. And you’re relieved to have a more casual night, considering the not-so-glamorous sundress covering your body. One thing Chris hadn’t thought of was to keep you from hearing your surroundings. As you stepped out of the car, the splashing of water gave up the first clue.

“Chris, if you want to throw me down the river this wasn’t-”

“Oh, just shhh.”

You walk down a small path, small branches snap under your feet, a faint cackling waits in the distance. The humming of the city seems to fade with each stomp, allowing you to relax for the first time today. Once you’re a few more minutes away, the grip on your shoulders tightens, bringing you to a stop. You hear him take a deep breath.

“Alright,” he adds in a soft tone. He steps behind you, and after a little warning takes the blindfold off.

It takes a few blinks before your mind catches onto the scene before you.

An off-white drape dangles from a few trees, looping around poles and creating an inviting tent - the ones so popular in fancy home renovation magazines. A picnic cloth sits underneath it, and everything is beautifully lit with a generous amount of fairy lights, tiki lamps and a slow burning campfire along the water line. The sight is mesmerizing, something out of a children’s book, and it has you wanting to shout “I do believe in fairies!”

The moonlight dances on the lake and glistens back into your watery eyes. With your hands over your mouth you turn around to him. His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth and his look is to die for. He’s soft and proud and his eyes are full of something new. Something you can’t quite figure out yet.

“This is just…” Your eyes dart back to the secluded area. Something he bothered his siblings with, you’re sure of, until they agreed to lend a hand after their mom insisted Chris’ intentions were founded. But you know he came up with the idea himself. Had it not been for his money, you think, this would’ve been a home-made fort in his living room, and you wouldn’t have complained - although the extra attention does make you feel warm and loved.

Loved. There’s the feeling.

In a rush, you tiptoe towards him, anchoring your arms around his neck and in a heap of passion, your lips come to his. Surprise suddenly takes him victim, until he responds and starts moving his lips, then tongue, against yours. You part with a huff, looking for your breath - which seems to be the theme for the night. His mouth rests on your forehead as he keeps your bodies connected. Hands roam the other in search for meaning. Answers. It’s with drips on your cheeks and a childish giggle that you dip your head back.

“Was about time,” he teases. You puffs in fake annoyance before stealing a couple more pecks.

“I didn’t see you make the first move...”

“I threw you all sorts of hints! Why did it have to be me?” You laugh at his remark.

“Alright, touché. But still. Thought you were old-school about this kind of stuff,” you clarify.

“I’m old-school as in I like to make sure that she’s the one, you know. All those years I planned things and bought some random stuff and you never asked for more. I could shit in a cup and you’d be hap-”

“Christopher! Fucking mood killer!” You pat him on the chest with your comical accusation, earning a deep laugh - minus the boob grab because he wasn’t about to take his hands from you.

“You get what I mean. You never made a big deal out of this,” he adds as he waves behind you. “You never made a big deal out of me. You let me buy things without always making me feel guilty for having this luxury. And then when I want to watch football with beer, wings and ribs stuck in my teeth you join in with a huge smile of excitement. I love the contrast...”

He closes his eyes for a second, trailing the last words in a shy whisper. Your hand comes to his cheek and your heart melts when he leans into it, water now overflowing under his long lashes.

“And I think I love you,” you say. His sparkly baby blues shot open, volleying between yours and analysing your expression. Looking for a hint of doubt, maybe. But then again, wasn’t this what he had always hoped for?

“I think I fucking love you too,” he answers. He kisses you, as if to seal a deal.

Best birthday ever.

#brb crying #my writing #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #rpf #birthday writing #friend tag #amanda tag #space girlfriend #I love you boo #I hope this isn't too bad #*hides behind hands*

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allthingspieandhockey · 4 years

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There are so many pole references we could make right now… (Part 2)

FIRST PART IS HERE (Holster’s POV)

Another 1k of a Adam Birkholtz and Justin Oluransi meet cute, this time from Ransom’s POV. Totally an AU. (Everyone’s a firefighter AU).

Ransom’s POV

“Jack! Did you bring in pie?”

“You only love me for my husband!” Jack calls back, his face buried in his locker as he unpacks his bag for their shift in the station.

“That’s doesn’t answer my question,” Shitty says and Ransom snorts in amusement. Because as much as they all love Jack, they adore his husband Bitty even more.

“Of course I bought pie… you know he stress bakes when I’m on nights.”

“There have to be some perks of us being on nights.”

They settle into the routine of the evening, double checking equipment. They’re lucky that they have Jack in their squad really, because they’re always guaranteed amazing dessert. They’ve learnt the hard way not to have a complicated dinner, interrupted too often by call outs. So they save those for their nights off, let Bitty spoil them all by making it feel like a massive feast every fortnight or so. Dessert though, that can be abandoned at the sound or the alarm bells and still be devoured upon their return.

The alarm doesn’t sound until 1am, lights flicking on, but they’ve practised dressing in the dark, so light blindness is nothing. They move out like the well-oiled machine they’ve trained to be. They can all suit up and be on the truck in 90 seconds, because Jack is a fucking task master, but they also get that lives could depend on it. It’s fortunately not a situation with lives at stake when they get there, a warehouse storing cheese, but there are gas cylinders so they take extra precautions. They get back and clean and pack down, because the next squad are arriving for the start of their shift at 5 and he’s grateful for the quiet night because the previous night had been rough with three callouts, which had been a ridiculous amount.

He’s slept, showered and dressed again in his spare uniform when he hears the door chime, indicating someone has walked into the garage and he offers to go, everyone else in the middle of something. And if they get called out he can stay behind easily enough. He’s the only one left from his own squad, the others going home to crash where he had just needed to sleep where he fell, no energy to actually make the drive home to his apartment. So he goes, knowing he can go home after he checks out whoever it is.

At first he thinks it must be a new recruit, because the guy is huge, and he’s used to hanging out with firefighters, and none of them are small. But this guy has a couple of inches on him and he’s dressed in a suit, tie done so neatly that he just wants to take it off… Huh.

“Uh, hi….”

“Hi. Can I help you?” Justin asks, because he’s dealt with curious people before, but they don’t usually look like this. What’s the saying Bitty uses? Climb him like a tree? Yeah. That fits.

“Uh…This is a totally random request, but it’s been a dream of mine since I was a kid. I was wondering if I could sit in the driver’s seat…”

Ransom blinks. He’s the driver in his squad. Is he being propositioned? Fuck he hopes so. He’s never wanted to be propositioned so much before, and in his place of work no less.

“Uh… wow. Sure. Wait,” he goes over it again, see the guy looking at the truck. “Oh, you mean the truck. Of course you do. Sorry. Of course you can. You want me to take a photo?”

“Would you?” The guys asks, and his smile is fucking gorgeous and this isn’t even fair. “Lards is coming, but she just doesn’t get it…” Who or what the fuck is Lards? He takes the phone and notes that the guy has unlocked it completely. Trusting.

“Okay, well just put your foot here, there’s a hand hold, and swing yourself up. You’re nice and tall so it should be easy…”

He totally checks his ass out as he gets up, because he’s not dead. And the guy’s not wearing the bulky uniform of a firefighter, so of course he looks far hotter than should be allowed. Remembering the phone in his hand he shifts back, pretends to take some shots but quickly adds his name to the contacts, thumbs flying. He considers sending himself a message but that doesn’t feel right – he’s giving the guy his number, not taking his without his consent.

He looks up and finally takes some actual shots of the guy grinning down at him, eyes bright with excitement and he grins back, because that grin is just… infectious.

“Tell me you just put your number in his phone…”

He almost drops the phone out of surprise and sees a petite woman standing there, eyes narrowed in on him and arms crossed and he feels judged.

“Uh… yes?”

“Good. I’ll make sure he uses it.”

“Really?”

She doesn’t get a chance to answer verbally, the guy is climbing down.

“Thank so much dude; that was seriously awesome. I can finally tick it off my bucket list.”

“No worries. Anytime. I’m Justin.”

“Adam, thanks again,” Adam says, and he reaches out a hand and Ransom takes it in his and he’s never felt like he had small hands before but okay… first time for everything.

“It was my pleasure. Always nice to meet someone who admires beauty,” Ransom says, nodding toward the truck and Adam just seems to agree with him. Good.

“Yeah, she’s definitely a beauty alright. I’ll, uh, see you around…”

“See you…”

Lards, if that is even her name, gives him a little chin lift on her way out and he really hopes that’s a silent way of telling him she’s going to do a bro a favour, because he really does want to see him again.

When his phone buzzes not even five minutes later he grins.

#justin oluransi #adam birkholtz #ransom/holster

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spellyjane · 6 years

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Splashed, Mashed and Dashed on to the podium at Kona!

THAT'S ME, 3RD W45-49 IN THE 🌏

After my 1st go at this race in 2017, I was a little torn. Part of me was happy to tick IRONMAN World Championships off my list and never put myself through that sufferfest again. I hated it, it was hot, the run was horrible, and I found the layout of the transition, spectator areas and general logistics to be claustrophobic ordeals. However, on the evening after that 2017 race, I saw athletes heading home from the award ceremony with their ukeme bowls and I felt a strong pang of want. My race had not gone to plan, I knew I could do better and I wondered where a good day at Kona would put me. After a few more weeks of reflection and recovery I decided that yes, I needed to give it another go.

I started to write my thank yous at the end of this report, but I realised that I may lose a few of you along the way and this is important. Thank you to my biggest fan and supporter, Simon. I love chasing him up hills on bikes, holding his wheel all these years had made me a better person and without his encouragement and support I just could not do this. My coach, Rick Schopp, gosh, I feel like I say this all the time, but he pushes me where I don’t always want to go and he must find it hard to sleep with all the pins I stick into that voodoo doll, (I have taken them all out now.) I thank him especially for pushing me, for listening, for calling me out when I am being a slack ass and for the awesome giggle when he hears my results. Thank you to my team at INTENT, the messages before and after were off the charts! I know a whole bunch were tracking me all day and I was sending my thanks every time I hit a timing mat! Thanks to my Dad for coming all the way from Sydney to cheer and sherpa, that was pretty awesome. I don’t get to see him enough, to have him there was really special.

DAD, READY TO CAPTURE IT ALL

So I found myself at the starting line of this year’s race in quite a different headspace. I had 2 more humbling Ironman experiences under my belt, a crazy amount of fitness gained from lots of training in our new 1750m above sea level abode and some practiced heat coping strategies. I was going for a top 10 finish and a course PR regardless of the weather. My race plan was full of lessons learned from last year, paces, watts, calories, salt and heat coping strategies. I hoped I could pull it all off but I knew that at some stage I would run out of script and just have to ad lib.

7:20am - BOOM! I am swimming. My mission was 8:35 per 500m. This would give me about 1 min faster than last year. I got kicked and pummelled last year so I positioned a little left to avoid the chaos. It worked, it was busy but not as bad. My watch buzzes every 500m, the glance at my splits was telling me we had a bit of current assist on the way out. So when we made the turn I just dug in and pushed hard, trying not to lose too much of the time I had gained on the way out. I kept asking myself if I was going hard enough and could I push any harder, I kept reminding myself to stay on the gas all the way to the finish. I reached the sand and scrambled up the stairs, already thinking about how I was going to execute T1. Thank goodness for the volunteers helping out here as I was almost wiped out by a wave that came crashing over the stairs as I was trying to read the time on my watch. Woo hoo, 1:06:40, 3 minutes faster than last year.

OK, NOW FOR A LITTLE BIKE RIDE

I was handed my T1 bag and ran into the change tent. With the help of a volunteer I was on my way in moments. I was jogging along at the pace of the pack as we made our way to our bikes, I turned on some hussle when I remembered that I was racing! I saw the lamp pole I’d scoped out to landmark my aisle earlier that morning and made the turn, I found my bike no problems. I had opted to clip my shoes in pre race, so by the time I reached the mount line my socks were super soggy from the saturated carpeting. My feet were never dry all day, I’d post a pic of the result but I don’t want to freak y’all out too much. 😱 The mount line was a bit of a zoo but I made it out in one piece! 3:13 about 1:30 faster than last year.

My first 15 minutes of riding were at an intensity (IF) of .78, oops! I was aiming for .66, my goodness, this is rookie territory! Clearly I was a bit amped and buzzed with the good swim start. I lost a bottle of electrolytes/nutrition on a bump at the 5k mark but did not sweat it. I had a back up in my special needs bag located up in Hawi at about the 100k mark. I was taking on cals and salt every 30 mins, I was taking water bottles and refilling my built in hydration bag and keeping a spare bottle on the back cage. I had some additional electrolytes to add to the water while I was on the go as well. It was not as hot as last year, my data recorded an average temp of 32C with a high of 37C, last year I recorded and average temp of 36C and a high of 39C. We seemed to have a tiny bit of cross head wind on the way out to the Hawi turn around. I started to pay attention to race numbers. Last year I did not realise that we would not have our age groups tattooed to our calves and I didn’t realise that the race numbers were grouped in ages. I was on to it this year and I knew the range I was racing. At this point, I was doing all the passing, I don’t recall being passed by anyone in my age group at all on the bike.

PROBABLY DOING 500W HERE 😜

I was pushing a few extra watts than I planned in order to keep out of draft zones and it did not seem to be hurting me. I struggled last year to hold my watts and ended up with an IF of .64 and in Boulder earlier this year same thing happened and I went .62, I put this down to the heat. I have managed .69 in other races but felt that that was too aggressive for Kona, knowing how brutal that run can be, so I felt that .66 was a good stretch for me this year. But on the day I felt like I was holding way too much back at those watts so I let loose a bit. Besides, I was kind of enjoying myself. The climb up to Hawi felt insignificant and I was well on my way to smashing out a great bike. I saw some folks holding out an Aussie flag right at the U turn, crikey, that shit slays me, I felt quite emotional.

The ride back to Kailua was good. I was not cracking. I pushed on, crunching splits in my head and feeling really good. I started to ease up a little and spin at a little higher cadence to get ready to run. I came in at 5:10:23, a big course PR, and unbeknownst to me at the time this 4th fastest bike split had me sitting in 3rd place.

I handed my bike off to a volunteer and ran into the change tent. Helped by another volunteer I threw my shoes on, grabbed my race belt (all loaded up with my gels, hat, number and emergency Immodium) and took off. I missed the sun screen, not on purpose, I just did not see any. Ugh, this sport is turning me into a melanoma snack bar. I got out on the run with a T2 of 3:02, again, saved another 1:30 on last year.

I had loaded my pocket pre race with a couple of nylon panty hose cut into long sock lengths. At the 1st aid station I filled one up with ice and tied it around the back of my neck, it dripped icy cold water down my back for about 30 min. It was awesome. I was using some new gels, loaded with salt and a lower but isotonic sugar concentration. They go down so so easy and have as much salt as the salt tablets I was taking on the bike. I had zero gut issues this year. I calculated that last year I spent about 7 minutes in the toilets throughout the race and spent a good deal of time in a lot of discomfort. This year no problems at all!

BEFORE IT GOT TOO UGLY 😂

I was holding a conservative pace, dying a little on the hills but pulling it back up on the flats and descents. I was not able to see the race numbers of the girls I was passing and being passed by. I was told by a friend at about the 3km point that I was in 3rd. I was passed by Elisabetta (she went on to 2nd place) just before the halfway point so I wondered if that put me in 4th. I came up upon my friend Jeff, we reached an aid station together, I grabbed a water and dumped it down his back, I can't remember what I said, but he wished me well and I pushed on. Another friend at about 21k told me that I was in 3rd and I was shocked. I was not sure where the other girls were but dang I knew they would be coming. I was remembering that feeling of seeing those ukeme bowls awarded to the top 5 and I began to think I could really get one. The toughest part of the race was the climb up out of the energy lab, the sun on my back was awful and I was tired. I let my pace fall to a level that apparently had my husband and my coach, who were tracking me via the timing mats, having heart attacks. What I did not know, but what they could see was that I was being ferociously stalked by the gal in 4th place, she was gaining on me at at rate that had Simon and Rick on the edge of their seats. I am glad I was oblivious to the actual threat. I made it back up onto the Queen K and just held onto the pace as best I could. I told myself to NOT slow down. The last 8k were tough, I was scared of every foot fall behind me. That kept me moving for sure. I made that last soul and body draining climb of the run, passing the crazy awesome peeps at the Base Performance tent before making that divine turn down Palani Drive. I bounded down that hill smiling my head off. I still had 2k to go but I was so close and the hard part of the course was done. Now it was time to wave to my Dad and friends, smile big and bring it home. I was passed by a gal in the finish chute, and I wondered if I had just lost 3rd but I did not care, I knew I had one of those bowls. I nearly choked when I saw my time too. Whaaat! A 3:42:01 marathon gave me a finish time of 10:05:19. So much to be happy about!

WHAT DID I JUST DO!?

A bit of post race asthma had me into the med tent. Ugh, thanks to Christian and Meredith for helping me out. I was still in the med tent when I turned my phone on to dozens of messages. The 1st one I opened was from Simon, it said, “3rd place, woo hoo!” I lost it, ugly happy crying, “I am ok!” I wheezed at the poor alarmed medic who did not know what to make of my sudden heaving outburst.

So that was the race, I have left out so many details, but to sum up, I feel like I had one of my most perfect races. With hindsight, I feel like I could have pushed a tiny bit harder on the bike, but I could not have know that till after. I wished I could have run under 3:40, I know in hindsight that I could not, I really did not leave anything out there. That 2 mins would not have made a difference in my placing, I just wished I could have held onto my pace. That gives me something to work on and I am fine with that. I will call this an Ironman PR, (my 10:04 in Cozumel does not count because of the massive current assisted short swim course.) I am not sure that I want to right now... but I think I can still wring a little more out of this body. I really want to go under 10 hrs! As for placing 3rd in the women’s 45-49 AG, (IN THE WORLD - tee hee) I am really happy, happy that I was able to pull together my best performance on a day when it really mattered. I absolutely know that I had some fierce competition out there, I know their A games and so I know that their days did not all go to plan, so I remain inspired, vigilant and on my toes.

Kudos to many many athletes on the day for pushing through the heat and distance to achieve some great results. My very good friend Jeff, had his 1st go at Kona after many years in the sport.

PRE RACE SELFIE WITH JEFF

This was a dream day he never thought he would have, his joy, emotion and pride at being there was written all over him! He a great day, he was beaten up a little by the run but his smoking bike made up for it and his overall time was where he said he hoped it would be. I bet he goes back for another crack. Kudos to my other Jeff, (I have a couple,) Jeff B took about 50 mins off his 2017 time. Kudos to Lindsey my friend the human fish who gutted out a run after tearing something important in her hip in T2. I mean she really gutted it out, she was black and blue but she still pulled off a very tidy performance.

The awards ceremony - ahh, where to begin without sounding like a real cow. Sorry, Ironman, this was not awesome. Charging my Dad $55 to eat dinner off a paper plate with a bottle of water at an out door folding table with a plastic table cloth made me a little mad. It was the only way to get into the awards so what can you do?

I made the most of my time on the stage, soaking it in, congratulating Janette, Elisabetta, Linda and Tanja with whom I shared the podium. I just wish my Dad had a telephoto lens to capture the moment a little more clearly. (I guess they assume we are all happy to buy the Finishers Pix.)

Family and friends were restricted to a barricade well away from the stage and off to the side to accommodate the VIP area and TV camera scaffold. VIPs were standing up and walking around with backs to the stage making it difficult for us common Age Groupers to get a picture of one of the MOST AWESOME MOMENTS OF OUR LIVES. I really could go on, but I will put it all in my survey.

One last heart felt thank you to the IRONMAN volunteers, I met people who flew in from all over the world to volunteer (including Meredith and Scott from BC Canada!) and thank you to the locals who embraced the chaos and gave up their time to help put this show on. I had many wonderful experiences with many volunteers, I am so grateful for all the help and cheers!

#racewithintent #triathlon #iamspecialized #kona #ironman #ironmanworldchampionships

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theaspiringwanderess · 3 years

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Packing For The West Coast Trail; Essentials, Clothing and Food

Return to My WCT Story | Booking: Reservations/Transport | Clothing, Essential Items, Recommended Items, Optional Items, Food

You Don’t Need The Kitchen Sink - Trust Me

Packing is a BIG deal for the WCT. It’s a lot to pack and there’s the pressure of not getting caught without the essential gear while keeping it all at a manageable weight. My first WCT trek I vastly over packed a 53lbs bag! It killed my hike and was hard on my body and most of the extra was food I hated, which was the worst. My second time I managed 38lbs and it went down dramatically as I ate! I packed everything on each list below (minus the book which i forgot and the GPS which I didnt bring) and still kept it at 38lbs including my food. Always opt for the lightest version. Cut size where you can, even the smallest items eventually add up (ex. some people cut off tooth brush handles, I have a rain shell instead of a full jacket, a double foam sleeping mat is much lighter - but bigger- than a blow-up mattress, an ultra light single unit stove, etc)... One spork for all and all for one spork!

Clothing

The proper clothing is a key factor in keeping you dry, warm/cool and happy. It’s important to keep it light weight but you also must be certain it’s functional for your needs. In 2016, my sister brought a rain jacket she tested and thought was waterproof. A full day of beach hiking in pouring rain later, not only did she learn the hard way it was not, but poor girl was cold, soaked and shivering too hard to do anything but shiver. Be 100% sure about your gear. You also want to be selective about fabrics. Avoid cotton, which retains moisture, and feather/down which loses its loft (heat trapping ability) when damp. Merino wool is a great bet to stay warm and dry and is the best option for socks and sweaters. Synthetic, sweat-wicking active wear is light weight and dries quickly for the daily hike. I also prefer my leggings and shorts to have a zip-up pocket or two.

I pack my clothing in a waterproof stuff-sack, and I put tanks in one small ziplock, underwear and bras in another, and pjs in a third so they stay dry, clean and easy to find. I keep a safeway bag for dirty clothing and my lesser used items at the bottom (towel, bathing suite).

I always pack my sleeping bag in a garbage bag every morning before it goes in my pack. In the event I fall in a creek... or the ocean?... it’ll add a level of extra water-proof protection. I also re-waterproofed my Lowa hiking boots for the first time ever... this is their second visit to the WCT after all. And, as a random side note, don’t plan to wash your clothes on the WCT. I’ve seen so many people make this mistake. Trust me, nothing that gets wet will dry. EVER. If you have a sunny day, air it out, dry it in the sun, pack it up in a ziplock.

It’s important to note everyone has different needs. You might be ok with 2 pairs of hiking socks! Or one pair of leggings... This is just what worked best for me based on the experiences of both my trips. Customize your WCT adventure-wear as you see fit ;)

3 tank tops, active wear / workout (sweat wicking, not cotton!)

2 pairs of leggings, active wear / workout (seat wicking and stretchy for flexibility and comfort with zip pockets)

2 pairs of workout shorts (sweat wicking and stretchy, w/zip pockets)

3 pairs of merino wool hiking socks

1 pair of wooly socks to sleep in (in case you get cold)

2 pairs of sock liners (major blister prevention technique)

PJs: 1 tank top, 1 merino wool sweater, 1 pair merino leggings or light weight sweat pants

1 or 2 long sleeved sweater(s) active wear / sweat wicking (to wear under your rain jacket or as a warming option in morning) *I took one, but in the event you’re sweaty or expect a lot of rain, 2 is advisable.

3 pairs of underwear active wear / workout (or merino wool if you want to splurge) *for women 7 panty liners (1 per day) to extend your underwear life.

1 bathing suite top (use a pair of used shorts for bottoms and you’ll double their use and wash them at the same time!) ... or dudes wear just your shorts of course!

Essential Items

*For your emergency kit it is extremely important to bring allergy and pain meds. Unexpected reactions and injuries happen all the time. On my Murtle Lake canoe trip, my friend had a terrible reaction to the abundance of mosquitos for the first time in her life and I myself, not having allergies, have come away from the WCT with skin infections and allergic reactions. On average 80-100 hikers a year are emergency evacuated from the WCT due to injury or inability to continue.

1 good hiking backpack with hip belt & chest strap & RAIN COVER

1 pair waterproof hiking boots high top - comfortable, already broken in

1 pair hiking gaiters (protect against ticks, bugs, keeps pants, legs and boots dry, shields mud!)

WCT Trail Map, Tide Tables (provided by parks staff)

WCT overnight pass copy (in a ziplock bag somewhere safe)

$160 minimum cash for water taxi, crab shack, chez moniques (in a ziplock bag somewhere safe)

1 pair ultra-light sandals

1 waterproof rain jacket

1 towel (very small, microfibre recommended)

bear spray

single size cooking stove (I love my jetboil flash lite)

cooking stove fuel for 7 days (2 small cans or one large 230 g can)

long handled spork (this titanium one is the shiznit!)

emergency whistle

emergency kit (gauze, medical tape, various sized bandages, disinfecting/antibiotic cream, a few tabs of common medications such as tylonel, asprin, allergy treatments like benedryl or reactin).

2 regular toilet paper rolls with cardboard tube removed (in a ziplock)

Fire Starters:

1 lighter & 1 flint striker (learn how to use it! This is a great video)

Dependable fire starter (2 or 3 tiny balls of dryer lint rolled with a small amount of unscented vaseline inside a ziplock bag work great in wet weather and will burn for 10-15 mins)

sunscreen

2 (1 litre) water bottles OR 1 bottle and a 2 litre camel back water bag

Water purification tabs (my go-to is Pristine brand). Ensure they are the 30 minute variety (not 1-3 hours). Alternatively some people use a UV light but this does require batteries and adds weight

tarp, lightweight

paracord (15 m or 50 ft)

2 carabiners, 1 that can hold 50 lbs, 1 small light (for random things)

1 sleeping bag, synthetic fill (ideally good for +5 celcius)

1 waterproof tent with rainfly (*I have a cheap 2 person waterproof coleman tent with a tarp bottom that I later bought replacement aluminum poles for. The poles made a 5lb tent a 3lb tent - impressive investment. I pack the poles and my friend the tent body = 1.5lb/each)

cell phone (I use my phone camera a lot so I brought 2 backup chargers. Solar charging is not an option given fog)

3 extra large black garbage bags and

3 large ziplocks (for trash, as an emergency poncho, keep feet dry in wet boots, the uses are endless)

1 pocket knife

1 flashlight

sunglasses

closed cell foam sleeping pad or light weight blow up mattress pad

1 watch, battery or wind-up water proof or at least resistant - digital watches can get damaged when wet or expensive watches ruined)

1 poop trowel.. yes you read that correctly - the plastic kind

1 bug spray (there weren’t many bugs, lots of wind though!)

2 travel sized hand sanitizers (for covid & as well after nature’s call)

1 emergency blanket

1 small soap or body wash (environmentally friendly brand)

1 travel toothpaste & toothbrush [small]

gloves (fingerless mesh back type for weight lifting is best)

neck gaiter (*instead of a hat - can double as a hat)

Other Recommended Items

unscented lip balm... you don’t want to smell like a walking buffet

1 light weight sleeping bag liner to keep sand and dirt out (I prefer silk)

ball cap or foam visor *non-water absorbing (this can be worn on a sunny day or under a rain hood to keep rain off your face).

1 emergency plastic poncho

1-2 hair ties (it gets wet and windy and they double as pack ties!)

sweat band

baby wipes (good for cleaning your face, or dishes...)

a small book or time passer (don’t bring a giant novel)

Items I’d Consider Optional

rain pants (*optional as long as you have a long waterproof rain jacket. gaiters provide extra leg protection or if its warm don shorts! skin dries)

small camera with good battery life (not necessary if you use your phone)

pen and paper for notes or emergencies

small GPS or Spot satellite device

1 waterproof phone case (if you bring a phone)

1 extra light pillow (optional - i had one this time but usually use my sweater)

Food Recommendations

On the WCT you are expending roughly 3000-4000+ calories per day. That’s more than double the average 120lb marathon runner going hard for 2 hours if they ran 12 miles. You are Climbing, Hauling, Pushing, and your feet are operating at the agility level of “expert cat on steroids”. So, essentially you NEED the calories. But packing the right amount (and weight) of food is challenging. I’m happy to report this time I ate it all by the end so it was the perfect amount. If you find you are running low or forgot something, you might be able to grab it from the Nitinaht crab shack and likewise if you over pack you can leave extra food there for someone else. But please, do NOT leave garbage.

**Note, I must, must stress - DO NOT leave garbage on the trail. There is no garbage removal service. Parks staff do not remove it and with covid there are fewer staff in general. Garbage is a major bear attractant and you put others at risk leaving it behind. 2021 is a year with only Canadians allowed on the WCT and the amount of garbage was appalling.

The WCT, and island in general, is VERY humid. It’s best to bring items in individual packages, otherwise things clump or mush. On our first trip, my sister brought important medications that melted and became extremely difficult to take. My advice is to pack any daily meds you must bring in the plastic containers with individual days. This way if something similar happens to you, you can still be safe knowing the amount taken.

Additionally, I work with a very simple but effective system of ziplock bags. This keeps everything fresh, organized, and easy to find as you go. I have one large ziplock for breakfasts, one for lunch & snacks, and one for dinner. As I finish breakfast I move it to the bottom of my bear bag and put lunch/snacks on top for easy access and so on - Ta-da!

I consider lunch and snacks the same thing as we never stopped for a cooked meal mid-day. In 2016 my sister talked me into doing dried lentil dinners and it was the WORST (... for me, she loved it!). It made it hard for me to want to eat, which was a big set back. I have this vivid memory burned into my brain from our first trip of an adorable father - daughter duo whom we criss-crossed a lot. One rainy day he had her tucked up under a tree eating the most delicious looking meat and cheese sandwich and my instant thought was ‘awww, so cute... I’d kill you for that sandwich though...”. Who knew a sandwich could insight such murderous intent?!

My lesson learned was when it comes to physically demanding, multi-day hikes, pack healthy but also things you enjoy eating. I strive for light weight first and foremost. I love fruit but it doesn’t pack well, so items like fruit leathers work well. Real, individually wrapped, cheese sticks are a great too; by day 5 they get soft or oily, but they never go bad (harder cheeses like cheddar are naturally preserved), so I stick to 4 or 5 day cheese supplies. My ultra-favourite hiking snack - individual wrapped rice crispy squares! I pack 2 per day... and a couple extra for desserts! I never packed enough of each junk food to have one for every day, instead with treats I generally aimed to have 4-5 of each and mix it up. In between hikes, I also spend some time picking up and trying different types of nuts. Don’t get me wrong, peanuts are good, but after 4 days they get pretty boring. I often pop into a Winners or Home Sense store and look for enticing types of nut mixes and I’ll keep them in my car to snack on and decide if its a keeper.

Im also very careful about toothbrushing too because prolonged periods of hiking without proper dental care wrecks havoc on your teeth.

Ok! Down to the nitty-gritty! My dinner ziplock has 1 dinner for each night and sometimes a hot (dehydrated) dessert. And I have a small ziplock for items like my toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash slips, and anything else that might need to go in the bear bag. Again, I’ll preface this by saying its important to note everyone’s needs are unique and based on the experiences of both my trips, this is the food I packed.

Breakfast Ziplock

7-8 easy breakfasts (i pack 1 peaches & cream oatmeal for each morning and an extra in case we missed the bus).

coffee - starbucks via’s have been my favs! but nescafe also makes individual coffees and a fab toffee nut cappuccino option!

sugar and powdered creamer (individual pkgs) & tea in a smaller ziplock

a smaller ziplock for toothbrush/paste, body wash etc

Lunch / Snacks Ziplock

bag of beef jerky

individual (real) cheese sticks (usually cheddar, or a hard variety works best, soft cheese goes bad faster)

a few bags of different varieties of nuts (*lemon sea salt almonds, tamari nut mix, cilantro lime cashews, Dare brand Vietnamese coffee flavoured macadamia nuts)

2 bags snack sized hawkins cheezies

5 individually pkgd M&M’s chocolate & oatmeal cookies (*the M&M cookies were crumbly, the oatmeal squished but stuck together!)

16 Rice crispy squares - my ultra-fav hiking snack, individually wrapped (2 per day + couple extras)

4 fruit leather bars in a smaller ziplock

4 snack sized oh-henrys in a smaller ziplock

2 bags Stinger caffeine gummies & 2 capsules Nuune electrolyte/caffeine tabs in a smaller ziplock

Dinner Ziplock

1 dinner for each night and sometimes a hot (dehydrated) dessert

Presidents Choice brand (bagged) vegetarian chili *this was a new try for me, normally I advocate for dry only food because wet is messy, can leak, is heavy and can go bad fast. BUT! I ate this the first night on the trail so it was gone quickly, and it stood up to the abuse and was only $3!

AlpineAire potato cheddar soup (dehydrated) is my fav dinner. fast, hot, make in the bag, and tasty!

2 Stove Top brand stuffing; cut a small hole, let out the air, retape. write water and instructions on the bag. Throw away the box. (*mix with 1 pkg gravy)

1 Instant mashed potatoes; cut a small hole, let out the air, retape. write water and instructions on the bag. Throw away the box. (*mix with 1 pkg gravy) - FYI this is a BIG meal, make only what you can eat or bring a smaller amount if you cant eat the whole thing.

3 pkgs reduced salt gravy mix

1 Nomad Nutrition vegetarian shepards pie dehydrated meal.

1 dehydrated dessert hot option (maple rice pudding this time!)

Return to My WCT Story | Booking: Reservations/Transport |

#wct #wct food #wct packing #wct clothes #west coast trail pack #travelbc #vancouver island #west coast trail packing

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thecaffeinebookwarrior · 7 years

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How to Write a Novel: Tips For Visual Thinkers.

1. Plotting is your friend.

This is basically a must for all writers (or at least, it makes our job significantly easier/less time consuming/less likely to make us want to rip our hair out by the roots), but visual thinkers tend to be great at plotting. There’s something about a visible outline that can be inexplicably pleasing to us, and there are so many great ways to go about it. Here are a few examples:

The Three-Act Structure

This one is one of the simplest: it’s divided into the tried-and-true three acts, or parts, a la William Shakespeare, and includes a basic synopsis of what happens in each. It’s simple, it’s familiar, it’s easy to add to, and it get’s the job done.

It starts with Act I -- i.e. the set-up, or establishing the status quo -- which is usually best if it’s the shortest act, as it tends to bore audiences quickly. This leads to Act II, typically the longest, which introduces the disruptor and shows how characters deal with it, and is sandwiched by Act III (the resolution.)

The Chapter-by-Chapter

This is the one I use the most. It allows you to elucidate on the goings on of your novel in greater detail than the quintessential three act synopsis generally could, fully mapping out your manuscript one chapter at a time. The descriptions can be as simple or as elaborate as you need them to be, and can be added to or edited throughout the progression of your novel.

Can easily be added to/combined with the three-act structure.

The Character Arc(s)

This isn’t one that I’ve used a lot, but it can be a lot of fun, particularly for voice-driven/literary works: instead on focusing on the events of the plot, this one centralizes predominantly around the arc of your main character/characters. As with its plot-driven predecessors, it can be in point-by-point/chapter-by-chapter format, and is a great way to map out character development.

The Tent Moments

By “tent moments,” I mean the moments that hold up the foundation (i.e. the plot) of the novel, in the way that poles and wires hold up a tent. This one builds off of the most prevalent moments of the novel -- the one’s you’re righting the story around -- and is great for writers that want to cut straight to the action. Write them out in bullet points, and plan the rest of the novel around them.

The Mind Map

This one’s a lot of fun, and as an artist, I should probably start to use it more. It allows you to plot out your novel the way you would a family tree, using doodles, illustrations, and symbols to your heart’s content. Here’s a link to how to create basic mind maps on YouTube.

2. “Show don’t tell” is probably your strong suit.

If you’re a visual thinker, your scenes are probably at least partially originally construed as movie scenes in your head. This can be a good thing, so long as you can harness a little of that mental cinematography and make your readers visualize the scenes the way you do.

A lot of published authors have a real big problem with giving laundry lists of character traits rather than allowing me to just see for myself. Maybe I’m spoiled by the admittedly copious amounts of fanfiction I indulge in, where the writer blissfully assumes that I know the characters already and let’s the personalities and visuals do the talking. Either way, the pervasive “telling” approach does get tedious.

Here’s a hypothetical example. Let’s say you wanted to describe a big, tough, scary guy, who your main character is afraid of. The “tell” approach might go something like this:

Tommy was walking along when he was approached by a big, tough, scary guy who looked sort of angry.

“Hey, kid,” said the guy. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to a friend’s house,” Tommy replied.

I know, right? This is Boring with a capital ‘B.’

On the other hand, let’s check out the “show” approach:

The man lumbered towards Tommy, shaved head pink and glistening in the late afternoon sun. His beady eyes glinted predatorily beneath the thick, angry bushes of his brows.

“Hey, kid,” the man grunted, beefy arms folded over his pot belly. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to a friend’s house,” Tommy replied, hoping the man didn’t know that he was ditching school.

See how much better that is? We don’t need to be told the man is big, tough, and scary looking because the narrative shows us, and draws the reader a lot more in the process.

This goes for scene building, too. For example:

Exhibit A:

Tyrone stepped out onto his balcony. It was a beautiful night.

Lame.

Exhibit B:

Tyrone stepped out onto his balcony, looking up at the inky abyss of the night sky, dotted with countless stars and illuminated by the buttery white glow of the full moon.

Much better.

3. But conversely, know when to tell.

A book without any atmosphere or vivid, transformative descriptors tends to be, by and large, a dry and boring hunk of paper. That said, know when you’re showing the reader a little too much.

Too many descriptors will make your book overflow with purple prose, and likely become a pretentious read that no one wants to bother with.

So when do you “tell” instead of “show?” Well, for starters, when you’re transitioning from one scene to the next.

For example:

As the second hand of the clock sluggishly ticked along, the sky ever-so-slowly transitioning from cerulean, to lilac, to peachy sunset. Finally, it became inky black, the moon rising above the horizon and stars appearing by the time Lakisha got home.

These kind of transitions should be generally pretty immemorable, so if yours look like this you may want to revise.

Day turned into evening by the time Lakisha got home.

See? It’s that simple.

Another example is redundant descriptions: if you show the fudge out of a character when he/she/they are first introduced and create an impression that sticks with the reader, you probably don’t have to do it again.

You can emphasize features that stand out about the character (i.e. Milo’s huge, owline eyes illuminated eerily in the dark) but the reader probably doesn’t need a laundry list of the character’s physical attributes every other sentence. Just call the character by name, and for God’s sake, stay away from epithets: the blond man. The taller woman. The angel. Just, no. If the reader is aware of the character’s name, just say it, or rework the sentence.

All that said, it is important to instill a good mental image of your characters right off the bat.

Which brings us to my next point...

4. Master the art of character descriptions.

Visual thinkers tend to have a difficult time with character descriptions, because most of the time, they tend to envision their characters as played their favorite actors, or as looking like characters from their favorite movies or TV shows.

That’s why you’ll occasionally see characters popping up who are described as looking like, say, Chris Evans.

It’s a personal pet peeve of mine, because A) what if the reader has never seen Chris Evans? Granted, they’d probably have to be living on Mars, but you get the picture: you don’t want your readers to have to Google the celebrity you’re thirsting after in order for them to envision your character. B) It’s just plain lazy, and C) virtually everyone will know that the reason you made this character look like Chris Evans is because you want to bang Chris Evans.

Not that that’s bad or anything, but is that really what you want to be remembered for?

Now, I’m not saying don’t envision your characters as famous attractive people -- hell, that’s one of the paramount joys of being a writer. But so’s describing people! Describing characters is a lot of fun, draws in the reader, and really brings your character to life.

So what’s the solution? If you want your character to look like Chris Evans, describe Chris Evans.

Here’s an example of what I’m talking about:

Exhibit A:

The guy got out of the car to make sure Carlos was alright, and holy cow, he looked just like Dean Winchester!

No bueno. Besides the fact that I’m channeling the writing style of 50 Shades of Grey a little here, everyone who reads this is going to process that you’re basically writing Supernatural fanfiction. That, or they’ll have to Google who Dean Winchester is, which, again, is no good.

Exhibit B:

The guy got out of the car to make sure Carlos was alright, his short, caramel blond hair stirring in the chilly wind and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. His eyes were wide with concern, and as he approached, Carlos could see that they were gold-tinged, peridot green in the late afternoon sun.

Also note that I’m keeping the description a little vague here; I’m doing this for two reasons, the first of which being that, in general, you’re not going to want to describe your characters down to the last detail. Trust me. It’s boring, and your readers are much more likely to become enamored with a well-written personality than they are a vacant sex doll. Next, by keeping the description a little vague, I effectively manage to channel a Dean Winchester-esque character without literally writing about Dean Winchester.

Let’s try another example:

Exhibit A:

Charlotte’s boyfriend looked just like Idris Elba.

Exhibit B:

Charlotte’s boyfriend was a stunning man, eyes pensive pools of dark brown amber and a smile so perfect that it could make you think he was deliciously prejudiced in your favor. His skin was dark copper, textured black hair gray at the temples, and he filled out a suit like no other.

Okay, that one may have been because I just really wanted to describe Idris Elba, but you get the point: it’s more engaging for the reader to be able to imagine your character instead of mentally inserting some sexy fictional character or actor, however beloved they may be.

So don’t skimp on the descriptions!

5. Don’t be afraid to find inspiration in other media!

A lot of older people recommend ditching TV completely in order to improve creativity and become a better writer. Personally, if you’ll pardon my French, I think this is bombastic horseshit.

TV and cinema are artistic mediums the same way anything else is. Moreover, the sheer amount of fanart and fanfiction -- some of which is legitimately better than most published content -- is proof to me that you can derive inspiration from these mediums as much as anything else.

The trick is to watch media that inspires you. I’m not going to say “good media” because that, in and of itself, is subjective. I, for example, think Supernatural is a fucking masterpiece of intertextual postmodernism and amazing characterization, whereas someone else might think it’s a hot mess of campy special effects and rambling plotlines. Conversely, one of my best friends loves Twilight, both the movies and the books, which, I’m going to confess, I don’t get at all. But it doesn’t matter that it isn’t good to me so long as it’s good to her.

So watch what inspires you. Consume any whatever movies, books, and shows you’re enthusiastic about, figure out what you love most about them, and apply that to your writing. Chances are, readers will find your enthusiasm infectious.

As a disclaimer, this is not to say you get a free pass from reading: I’ve never met a good writer who didn’t read voraciously. If you’re concerned that you can’t fall in love with books the way you used to (which, sadly, is a common phenomenon) fear not: I grappled with that problem after I started college, and I’ll be posting an article shortly on how to fall back in love reading.

So in the meanwhile, be sure to follow my blog, and stay tuned for future content!

(This one goes out to my friend, beta reader, and fellow writer @megpieeee, who is a tremendous visual thinker and whose books will make amazing movies someday.)

#the author speaks #writing tips #writing #reference #plotting #outlining #character description #characters #show vs tell #description #inspiration

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colliermelissa1994 · 4 years

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How High Can A Male Cat Spray Eye-Opening Cool Ideas

Probably the one that's not enough, look for your cat more pleasant.These are applied as false nails to the litter box.If you're missing just 1 ingredient, you'd have to be thoroughly cleaned.Spraying is an interesting new place to scratch.

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You will notice his coat clean and out of.So let's talk about what you would like to live.If the symptoms continue to use an ordinary litter box usage amongst them.When the bladder which will emit a pulse of sound when the tick is removed from the list above, this is probably marking because he is to have tangled hair, but if she bumps around in the center and add a little dish washing detergent.Litter training cats can be easily consumed by the vet for a flea and tick protection that will accommodate the cat.

Cats are curious and will lick themselves all the dirt, waste, and litter he/she prefers.For instance, if you get a tap filter to remove tangles, then a bristle brush can be confident that your kittens can enjoy a long term removal of the annoying stains or stains that are producing the bad cat behavior believe that cat frequent urination than usual, seem listless, object to being handled, or refuse food?You may need to learn what eh boundaries are in the hair of cats.The granules should be adults before they can be.There are some ideas that might be causing it.

The same allergens that escape from an act of scratching, gradually moving it away someplace but make an indoor cat can smell where she is expressing affection.The speed with which you may notice blood in the wild tenancies.After that specific part is specified for spraying.Do you have no control over them, they'll always manage to reach the ceiling.A rule of thumb is to check whether the problem that does not need to enhance their safety.

They are very important that when you are lucky enough to get them checked out as a scratching post should hang very nicely.I was instructed to keep your cat's claws regularly is a good scratch pad which it thinks is not an easy way to reduce or eliminate problem behaviours such as worms, feline leukemia or feline leukemia.- Make sure you get from places like the Siberian with less fur, and the only cause of the smell.Clashes in personality can also buy special plastic strips that fit my preferences perfectly.Neutering male cats will reduce a lot of work but trust me it is guaranteed that your cat litter or clumping cat litter try to make it seem the best solution is to lessen the damage.

A colony of cats will rub themselves all the adults that hitch a ride on your pets, but also that it will also likely to get in trouble around the plants.They live in a variety of sizes and colors but just because they don't bring with them using the litter box.Although it may affect the cats may dislike one another in their capacity as governmental mousers.Usually, an indoor, litter-box-trained cat shows signs of a bowl of water but as soon as possible.Pooky will be a signal for a while will drink lots of pats and cuddles, others prefer short hair.

Stop Cat Spraying In House

The owner should not but they mostly depend on what can you do not think about.When it comes to cleaning up cat urine is fused with the situation calls for it.The only thing is to play or is accustomed to.The unpainted bottoms of wood with a fresh look.The kind that would kill any surrounding small animals.

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Heart disorders, kidney failure, aggression, and confusion are other Lymes disease is also sprayed with his favorite piece of cat urine from paper napkin, put a stop to cat fur, you might want to come and go through the house.Bitter Apple to keep the skin for the cat, not how to survive without the care of business.This self-defense tool is really in her nipples, which can occur at an even younger age than this; consult your veterinarian can prescribe a product.Although they have been found to work as a friend who knows a lot less than thrilled.Genesis 950 to soak up the urine and most effective home remedy for cleaning up blood.

This will help you find they have no reason why you cat allergies are, it is wise to check the water.It does also come in the home, you'll need to mark over each other in the pecking order of its primary means of de-clawing him/her.However, the attachment between mummy and kitten training methods.The water actually helps work with than trying to think about what to do.The ugly truth was, most of the allergy causing protein or different fur.

The important thing is that the fur to leave the area with a product designed to help keep them entertained and to remove as much as we would with other animals.Solvents that are producing the bad smell.Trim your cat's toilet habits since it can be a kitty-pleaser.Cats love the rustle-y noises it makes, because they think cats cannot be washed.Some cats use it to bed after a short amount of behavior for cats.

Outside Cat Spraying

However, the post and a few minutes of howling cat.Treatment is simple and commonly used by the vet because there is one that worked.Several types can be trained as a means to discourage will quickly get rid of the mat to help cat breeding to the cat's instinctual need to try before purchasing an expensive and embarrassing problem that most, if not years.Offer a variety of products that are very fastidious, and if they've been an outside habit to let your new pet can prevent your cats attention and get rid of the vacuum cleaner if it hears a dog your going to determine that compatibility I mentioned.When you search the Internet, you are able to stand the smell?

When your cat will reciprocate by doing so they feel like you're living with his owner.explore what ever area that they need more than usualA neighbor's cat had dental problems sometimes exhibit this behavior as soon as you read to the one that you will surely have a scratching post against a door, a piece of string hanging out of other options out there, especially if you do this, the less than desirable - in terms of the cat looks like it much better.Leather and faux leathers are also several electronic devices is that they are bored.Any area that you purchase the perfect option.

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