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sky-casino · 8 months

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entanglement - spiderman!sae x fem!reader au

pairing: spiderman!itoshi sae x fem!reader

genre: fluff, a sprinkle of pining and angst

wc: 2,200+

a/n: i previously wrote a spiderman!nagi fic with a friend and a little while later, i realized that i also wanted to write spiderman!sae lol. hope you enjoy~

your city's superhero in red-and-blue has been repeatedly saving and protecting you lately, thanks to your clumsiness and frequent weird coincidence of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

at first, he didn't speak to you at all. he just suddenly swings by at the nick of time to save you from a nearby car crash, a scheming snatcher, or from a falling scaffold.

but perhaps the heroic spiderman also gets irritated, just like the rest of humanity. hence his new habit of speaking to you curtly after the both of you notice that he's been protecting you quite frequently lately, and by frequently it means four times just this month alone. that's once a week.

"take care." "watch your surroundings." "be attentive." "don't walk with your earphones in."

those are his terse reminders for you that he says after you thank him profusely with your face beet-red given the embarrassment you're in.

in your defense, you really have been trying to be more vigilant towards your environment, especially since you do not want spiderman to think you're a complete clutz. but perhaps the stars are simply not aligning for you right now.

after each encounter with spiderman, you always tell your friends about it in school the next day. you never fail to always gush about him, how cool he is, how safe you feel in his arms. your storytelling was out of excitement initially, but it has evolved more into embarrassment with your friends teasing you about how much of a clumsy person you are, or that you are purposely getting into accidents to grab spiderman's attention. you vehemently deny all of these allegations, stating that you are now more attentive towards your surroundings so the hero won't have to bother with you any longer.

you and your friends are too engrossed in your fun conversation that you don't notice sae picking out a drink in the nearby vending machine, secretly listening to you. he hides his amusement by maintaining his poker face and pretending to struggle selecting a drink.

you finally notice him as he is about to leave with his salted kombucha.

"oh, sae! there you are. don't forget that practice will start 15 minutes earlier later. coach has some announcements. he also wants to try a new training menu."

"no need to remind me." he replies coldly, not even looking at you.

"damn, he's handsome but rude as hell. it's still a wonder to me that you can deal with him." one of your friends says.

you sigh before replying, "well. he's the captain and i'm the manager. we need to work in synergy, or else the team and coach will have a hard time. but he's not too bad, actually! just cold, but very hardworking. and it's not like he ever ignores me." you find yourself defending your captain.

as sae walks away, he smiles a little as he recalls the way you talk about spiderman, about him.

his favorite part is whenever you express how safe you feel with him around. well, with his alter-ego around.

sae has always secretly liked you. but given his personality, it was no surprise that he denied it at first. he found himself having this inevitable habit of watching you from across the classroom, across the soccer field, across the halls. somehow up to now, his eyes always find you.

he finally admitted to himself that yes, you are attractive. and that maybe, just maybe, he is attracted to you, and your gorgeous face, and your diligence as a manager. that maybe it is indeed a crush. and he is content with that, with watching you from a far. it's nothing serious after all, he convinced himself.

but soon he noticed that he feels disappointed in himself when you talk to him about even just the slightest dip in his performance. as the manager, it's your responsibility to record and analyze the performance of each player, so it's absolutely nothing personal. but for him it is. of course, he has his own ambitions and goals for himself, so it's natural to feel dissatisfied about it. but when it comes from you, he feels a different kind of disappointment.

that's the point when he realized that it's more than a simple crush. oh.

the usually quiet sae has become even more quiet that week, battling his thoughts. convincing himself that it's just a crush, nothing more. giving himself as many excuses as possible. i can't be distracted. this is just a distraction. a distraction i absoultely can't afford to have. she's the manager, it's her job to assess me- us.

rin, his ever-loving younger brother who has been observing him, and by association, you as well, has finally spoken out of the blue as the two of them are walking home.

"you like her. that's it. it's that simple. what's more to think about?"

"huh?!" the older itoshi exclaimed, abruptly stopping on his tracks.

"you know what i'm talking about. she's single too. so go for it."

sae is looking at rin with wide eyes, surprised with his brother's nonchalance about such a sensitive topic.

"don't even try to deny it. not to me. i know you." rin went ahead before sae could even start denying, which was his exact plan.

"shut up. don't tell anyone. especially her. got it?" sae turns around and continues walking.

"but why-"

"just don't. end of discussion."

sae ended the discussion like that because even after hearing it from rin, he ultimately decided to just leave his feelings alone. he told himself that he will get over it, that he will forget about all of these.

but then he got his spider-like ability and became proficient with it in no time. putting it to good use by saving and protecting people and catching criminals. and eventually, saving you. repeatedly.

these encounters with you just hit different. catching you in his arms as the two of you swing across the horizon. seeing your pretty face illuminating the sunset hues makes his heart pound effortlessly. you tightly clinging to him as your life depends on it. your blushing face as you thank him again and again. he gets to enjoy all of these behind the mask where you can't see his equally red face and his smile.

this newfound superhuman ability provided him with more chances to spend time with you, with just the two of you.

and honestly, sae finds himself wavering from time to time. that maybe rin is right and he is wrong. that perhaps there's no harm in confessing. he is strong and he can protect you. you already like spiderman, so that also increases the chances of you agreeing to be with him. but with just a shake of his head, he shakes off these thoughts and comes back focused on his goals.

it's been a couple of months since sae last decided to get over his feelings for you. it's been hard. trying not to feel anything whenever he sees and hears you has been difficult. but this is the route he chose to take, and rin is watching on the side unamused.

one evening after the team practice, sae is left behind in the club room. this is his usual habit so no one questions it anymore. you, everyone in the team, and the coach assume that it's his way of reflecting on the day's practice and his performance.

that evening, though, you accidentally left your math notebook in the room and quickly run back to retrieve it. you expect sae to still be there, but he's not and only his bag is present. your notebook is near his duffel bag and upon picking up your item, your eyes were caught by the vibrant red-and-blue cloth with black lines all over it.

you slowly take it in your hand to further examine it. and in just a few seconds, you understand.

sae, who's coming back from the comfort room, rushes into the club room the moment he sees that the door is open, which he was certain he closed.

the two of you look at each other in a panic, aware that the other already knows the truth.

"you're…"

"yes." sae does not wait for you to finish.

"you're the one saving me all this while?"

"yes."

"why didn't you tell me… that it's you?"

sae has never found himself out of words when speaking to someone, until now. until you.

"did you know how embarrassed i've been? the entire class--including you--knows that i adore spiderman because he--you--saved me again and again. oh my god… sorry, i'm sorry for bothering you all this time!" and you on the other hand, have never found yourself as flustered as you are now, covering your face with your hands and pacing back and forth.

"you don't have to apologize, y/n." it's your first time to hear sae speak in such a warm and comforting tone. the sound is so foreign.

"i… i chose to save and protect people. you don't have to feel sorry and embarrassed. it's oka-"

"why didn't you tell me that it's you, though? you had lots of chances."

"no one knows it. even rin."

"okay. don't worry, your secret's safe with me." you mutter before walking briskly towards the door in an attempt to leave, the awkwardness getting overwhelming. but sae stops you, holding both of your arms with urgency.

"y/n, wait. you… you don't have to be embarrassed that you adore my other self. because…"

just looking at him right now makes you anxious and awkward, but you do your best holding his gaze.

"because…?"

"because i like you too. if that… makes you feel better." sae exhales slowly, not realizing that he's been holding his breath all this time.

"gotta go." he mutters after a few seconds of silence, realizing that you do not know how to respond to his confession.

sae retrieves his bag too quickly and you find yourself alone by the club room's door, too astonished by everything that transpired.

three weeks later, you invite your friends, classmates, and the soccer team to your birthday party at your house. this includes sae even though the two of you haven't been on speaking terms since that eventful night. you notice that he hasn't been looking at you either, completely ignoring your existence. but for some reason, you can't bring yourself to get mad at him. you understand that it might have been humiliating for him to admit his feelings and not getting a response in return. however, you were just too shocked at that moment, you honestly even felt a bit dizzy by the revelations that night.

as expected, sae is nowhere in sight during your celebration. you're acting like it doesn't bother you, but deep down it does.

at the end of the night, you feel depleted and take refuge in your bed. upon lying down, you feel and hear something crumple underneath your body. you quickly check it and surprisingly find a torn notebook paper with the message "rooftop." with a little web doodle that serves like a signature. all your sleepiness and exhaustion immediately vanish. you put on your cream-colored cardigan and climb up the stairs to your apartment building's rooftop.

you expect to find sae there but there are only two small boxes--a mini cake and a stapled shopping bag.

being occupied with the gifts sort of numbs your awareness of your surroundings, hence you don't feel sae slowly descending from his web string a few meters behind you. he removes his mask upon landing.

"happy birthday." he suddenly says, making you jolt.

"oh my god, itoshi sae! don't scare me like that!" sae laughs at your cute expression.

"sorry, i wasn't able to attend. had to take care of something."

"don't worry about it." you say as you wave your hand. "you're spiderman, after all. there are more pressing matters that need your attention. and besides, you're here right now, aren't you? thank you for the gifts. i really appreciate them."

he strides towards the spot beside you, leaning his forearms on the railing.

a moment of silence ensues, but this time it's not filled with tension or any smidge of awkwardness. it's a comfortable silence.

"sorry too for… ignoring you these past weeks. i-"

"no sae, i'm the one who has to apologize." you say with conviction as you face towards him. "i was just too shocked by the things i learned that night. i found out that you're spiderman, you… you said you like me. i didn't mean to not give you any response. but still, i'm so sorry."

sae is looking at with you with wide eyes, astounded that you're apologizing to him even though he thought that he put you in a difficult position when he confessed out of the blue.

"can i hug you?" he whispers without thinking, too mesmerized by you and your enchanting personality.

you open your arms with a sheepish smile and sae do not waste any second, going in and wrapping you up in his suit-clad arms.

you embrace him back tightly, basking in his warmth, feeling him and every nook and cranny of his spiderman suit. this is the man who have been tirelessly saving you, the people, and protecting the city these past months while juggling school and soccer.

and he's in your arms, and he loves you.

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bkdotblog · 1 year

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"Choir of Chaos," S3 E7

The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City Season 3 Episode 7 Recap

My Title: “Gay Wrongs"

My rating: 3 out of 5 dingers

Support for Lisa Barlow: Very strong

<><><>

Dear God,

There is nothing I love more on Your green Earth than when a RHOSLC episode opens with a conflict in media res!

In the very first frames of episode seven, as soon as Jen notices Angie Harrington twirling her little spaghetti legs in the parking lot of the choir auditions, she is approaching her with the velocity of a heat-seeking missile.

Angie Harrington is of course the wife of a "grown ass man" who created the fake Instagram account @shahexposed that — CRUCIALLY! — referenced Jen in name but slandered Lisa Barlow in its content.

Also, please don't freak out, but we have another Angie in our midst, who has just now decided to confront Angie H. on behalf of Lisa Barlow. She is wearing angular sunglasses and hot pink. In a fabulous coincidence, Jen is wearing the same thing, which lends the whole conversation a fun and legible visual language.

Two delegations from different alien races meeting for the first time:

The Pink team (Jen Shah, Good Angie) is arguing against rumormongering and Finsta-making, but it should be noted that Jen is only arguing on behalf of her family's name. Nothing about @shahexposed actually exposed any Shahs — that duty having already been performed by the department of Homeland Security — but anything that could even be tangentially misconstrued as an attack on one's family unit is the absolute best thing to say to a housewife if you want them to go ballistic as fast as possible.

The Gold team, which is mostly Bad Angie, is feebly attempting to counter that her husband's actions and intents do not reflect hers, but the Pink team is overwhelming in both feeling and volume. It's at this moment that Whitney Rose finds out that Bad Angie's husband was behind @shahexposed. Then something truly jaw-dropping happens: For the first time in human herstory, Whitney feels embarrassed.

A staff member alerts Heather Gay, who has been presiding over the choral auditions like a divine monarch, to the fracas. She comes outside, bafflingly sides with Bad Angie, and then returns inside. Jen follows her in an absolute rage. I get scared when mid-meltdown housewives move from one location to another because it feels like slowly watching a fire engulf a house. But I also feel a perverse, forbidden pleasure blooming somewhere deep within me... kind of like the one I feel when I watch a fire engulf a house.

With the perfect timing that has become her signature, Lisa Barlow arrives. (Actually, a staff member "reveals" her behind a curtain! I gasped) Heather regards her stoically. They still have beef!!

She sings "Away in a Manger." I think her voice is pretty good, and with a little training it could be pretty great! Of course I want to burst into applause when she finishes the verse and says, "Is that it?" Luckily a gay coded man is the first to start clapping. "Lisa Barlow, that was beautiful!" He and I say at the same time.

Lisa joins the other ladies. She and Good Angie embrace. Bad Angie looks uncomfortable. Then they include this confessional clip where the producer asked Bad Angie if she had happy memories from her friendship with Lisa (which apparently spanned decades!)* and she says this:

Sorry, but... bitch!!!

There is a brief and very cinematic moment where Bad Angie tries to flee the scene — "Whit? Whit? Can you go over the routine real quick?" — only to turn the corner to find Jen Shah.

Lisa Barlow, a literal oracle: "Everything just feels, like, weird all of a sudden."

She's right. Whitney and Bad Angie go do their little song and dance (32 counts of "When the Saints Go Marching In") and the judges are a little too impressed. Lisa goes to Jen Shah who is still fuming about the encounter and insisting everybody sit down and talk about it together. She lambasts Bad Angie and her "fat fucking Elf on the Shelf husband." What an absolutely gorgeous read. You can scroll up on this post if you want to see a photo of Angie's fat fucking Elf on the Shelf husband.

All of the ladies reconvene, but there aren't enough seats, so Bad Angie and Heather share one. Bad Angie apologizes to Jen, which makes Lisa go crazy, because nobody is apologizing to Lisa! She tries to remedy things with Heather but Heather could not be more dismissive. She basically says, Everything you're saying is right, but I don't like you and I don't want to talk to you ever again.

(It's time for a brief interlude called BK's Take, which you are free to skip. BK's Take is: I find Heather very funny, and she is clearly the Salt Lake housewife most closely aligned with the gay male agenda. In this instance, Heather exaggerated an anecdote to make Lisa seem aloof and tasteless, and Lisa defended herself appropriately. I think it's fine to privately dislike somebody on the basis of vibes, but Heather really needs to think about who she calls "fake" from here on out. It's not a good look... I'm afraid!)

Next we have Meredith and Seth together in the bath. OK!

Suddenly bottle of Dr. Teals Lavender Bath Soak appears.

All in all, a very tame display of marital affection for reality television.

Heather is touring a new space for her esthetics clinic, Beauty Lab and Laser, and it's pretty boring. In a confessional, she explains that she doesn't know why conflicts keep brewing between her and the other women. "I'm not trying to have an active conflict with any of these women," she straight up lies, "yet every time I try to do something positive or get us together, they lead with how I've done them wrong."

Oh my god, how sweet: Lisa and her husband go out to dinner, presumably with a full camera crew in tow, and when Lisa orders a Vida cocktail she wonders if the waiter knows she is Mrs. Vida. My guess is: Yep! She orders a lavender Vida cocktail with a surf and turf and jingles her new $6,900 bracelet. "I love when it's just us," she says to her husband. He says, "I know, it's strange," very soberly.

They go on to perform one of my least favorite Housewives theatrical tropes. A housewife will be sitting with her husband at an oyster bar or in the bath while recounting some personal tragedy or recent social encounter, and the husband will say things like, "How did that affect you?" "I didn't know you were so [hurt/strong/encumbered by your ancestral past]" Sorry but I'm BORED! I'd rather watch Heather walk around an empty room.

Now Jen and Coach Shah are going to talk on the couch, and instead of watching, I am going to pound my forehead into drywall! Quick BK's Take: There have been THREE husband-wife session scenes in this episode and I am OUT. This is not the Real Marriages of Salt Lake City! There is only occasion where the Real husbands' social dynamics becoming interesting to me, and its reliant on two simultaneous circumstances: 1) Their wife is embroiled in conflict and 2) All relevant parties are together at a social gathering. Everything else I do not give a fuck about. OK, that's all. Let's keep going!

Throughout the episode, I have been stunned by the acuity of Whitney Rose's observations. She and her young (step?)son meet Lisa and her young son at a park for a playdate. In a voiceover, Whitney lichrelly can't bleve she and Lisa are becoming frens. "Lisa definitely has a big sister energy, and that used to trigger me like she was looking down on me," Whitney says. I think this is a very rational characterization of their relationship. Also remember when Lisa said that she and Meredith should style Whitney and Whitney was like, "What's wrong with my style?" And Lisa said, "it's a little Utah," and Whitney made this face?

Whitney does.

Also her (step?)son is named Brooks.

Whitney and Lisa tell their sons to go play! and they scooter off in opposite directions. Whitney reveals that she is the sole provider for her family. Lisa is worried about her sister. Lisa reveals to Whitney that she wants a closer relationship with God, and Whitney cracks a little bit. Remember when she renounced God in ep 1?

Lisa also complains about Heather to Whitney. If you told me a season ago that—blah blah blah whatever. Alliances change! And they tend to form against you when you act in unkind! The moral of this tale is that seeds planted in malice will always bear sour fruit. And Miss Gay? Does not like the taste!

Later that evening (or later that week? Who knows -- it was at night) Whitney goes to visit Heather at her private residence. There is another great moment of accidental styling that occurs here:

(I don't understand the Bad Weather nickname. I know it's what Heather calls her friendship with Whitney and she probably explained it in a past ep but it went over my head. I would love if somebody could explain it to me. Please get in touch!)

Whitney's episode-long streak of coherent behavior ends almost immediately. It's unclear what her goal is with this encounter, but she starts by enumerating the ways in which she feels Heather hasn't been a friend to her. "I'm just here to be rill." For example: "When Justin was fired," Whitney says, looking away meekly, "like... you didn't call me."

Heather is visibly shocked. "I had no idea."

(BK's Take: I believe her!)

So then Whitney course-corrects and starts speaking of feeling a "disconnect" since their Arizona trip. Heather is like, duh, remember when I threw you across the room? I'm sorry but let's move on. And Whitney is like, well, I'm addressing things now. And I was so supportive of you at your choir auditions!

This sets Heather off. "I'm glad I had an event you could show up for and, like, be a hero, and I'm the asshole that has ignored you for two weeks,"

Whitney throws her head back in exasperation. Heather brings Lisa's name up. Soon the cross-talk becomes incomprehensible. As always, Whitney is attempting to play offense and defense at the same time, and is doing a clumsy job at both. She probes for Heather to acknowledge her lie about Lisa while also claiming that Heather has been intentionally distant. "The fact that you didn't know about Justin," she says, "that right there is the dinger."

That right there is the dinger.

Heather grows tired of this, and does what we all want to do: Leaves the situation. But not before throwing her mic off dramatically! Whitney sulks toward the front door, having accidentally allied herself with sworn enemy Lisa Barlow against good time girl Heather Gay. And that right there is the dinger. Thanks for reading! -BK

<><><>

Gay Imagery

Every week I like to post a screenshot or two of Heather Gay doing something funny. This week, she did nothing funny. I would instead encourage fans and Heather herself to take a good long look at this picture. Notice anything?

*This might not be true. I remember Lisa and Bad Angie having been friends for a long time, at least many years, when she was introduced in season 1 or whatever, but I am not interested in fact checking this information. Please feel free to let me know if I am wrong, even though I think I am right spiritually. I love you!

#rhoslc #real housewives #heather gay #lisa barlow #real housewives of Salt Lake City #that right there is the dinger

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goldenhypen · 2 years

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⋅— PART 1 || part 2 || part 3 —⋅

hi everyone! here are the results from the survey that we’ve all been waiting for! thank you for being so patient with me! and most of all, thank you to the 176 participants for taking the survey and to those of you who spread the word! this is all thanks to you! <3

these results were collected from february 26 to march 5, 2022.

even though this entire process was a lot of work, i had a lot of fun creating the survery, collecting the results and analyzing all the data, so thank you once again!

!! important !! as we go through these results together, please take some of them with a grain of salt. also, if you’re a writer please, please, please do not feel discouraged after seeing these results, as i know some of us may. if you are a writer or are an aspiring tumblr engene writer, it’s important to remember the reason why you started writing and posting in the first place. for a lot of us, an important reminder is that you write for yourself and for the fun of it. so please don’t let these results stop you from writing the things you love! as i was looking through the results throughout the past few weeks, it’s made me think a lot about this. of course it also feels amazing when we get notes for our work, but remember that’s not always the most important thing. i think it’s important to find a balance where we can do what we love, but at the same time, also do it for others :) and these results will hopefully help you in finding what works best for you and your readers.

「 just for reference, the notes in small font, are just little additional thoughts from me. the text in pink and italics marks the start of a new question. 」

as most of you probably know, there were a lot of questions in this survey, so these results will be split into multiple posts. but anyways, without further ado, why don’t we just head straight into the results! ^_^ also, brace yourself, because this is gonna be a long few posts,,, okie here we go!

— ⋅⬖⋅ —

who’s your bias(es)?

to begin, for the first maybe 8-10 hours? the top 3 biases were jay, jake and jungwon?? i don’t know if that was just a coincidence or maybe my blog just attracts triple-j stans 😌🤩 but sadly yet not sadly, it didn't last long, and heeseung and sunghoon started taking the lead. and then we ended with the following results ^_^ what surprised me was how different these results were compared to the results on kprofiles. also why is there such a lack of sunoo and riki stans on this side of tumblr 😭💔

— ⋅⬖⋅ —

who’s your bias wrecker(s)?

in terms of bias wreckers however, nothing really changed throughout the entire time the form was up; jay was leading the way by a margin for the whole time (unless you count the it changes constantly 😩💔 option), and i'm not at all mad about it 😌

— ⋅⬖⋅ —

the next one was the fanning over your bias/wreckers question, and the results were very amusing to read. but because this post is long enough as it is, i won’t be including that here. if you’d like me to make a post for it, though, let me know ^_^

— ⋅⬖⋅ —

select the role that applies to you.

the “other” answers were as follows...

i am a reader and provide my ideas to other writers.

writer and reading & lowkey going to likely start writing for other groups soon!

writer but reads for other groups simply because enhablr has like 0 longfics that interest me I’M SORRY ;-;

i’m a reader but i’m planning to maybe write in the future ^_^

i read for enha but i write for different fandoms completely, not within kpop.

i read more then i write/barely writes.

— ⋅⬖⋅ —

how old are you?

okay, i was really stupid apparently when making the questions for this survey, because—this brings us to my first mistake—in this question i put overlapping ages throughout the options?? i have no idea what i was thinking??? i'm so sorry that was really stupid of me. and when i caught the mistake, it was already kinda too late :/

okay but it suprised me how little 12-14-year-olds there are, honestly 👀

— ⋅⬖⋅ —

which member(s) do you read for the most?

this is some info that i think is extremely helpful, such as for when i have a fic idea but don't know who to write it for (and would like some recognition on the post sdjkdsj). but remember, don't let this stop you from writing for who you want! <3

— ⋅⬖⋅ —

what’s your fav genre(s) to read?

this one didn't surprise me too much,, but the suggestive/smut responses makes me think some of you don’t like to admit that you read it lol /lh i'm just wondering why i see so many more notes for works that include smut 🤥 haha but anyways-

— ⋅⬖⋅ —

what’s your fav trope(s)/au(s) to read?

i think these next results are really valuable, personally. but once again! do not let this stop you from writing the things you enjoy!

the “other” answers were as follows…

idol!au (i def should’ve added this as an option ugh 😩) — 3 votes

smau (should i have included this as an option on the survey?? oops 😭) — 2 votes

vampire!au — 1 vote

coming of age — 1 vote

historical — 1 vote

demigod/percy jackson!au — 1 vote

friends to lovers to enemies (or anything angsty) — 1 vote

— ⋅⬖⋅ —

what genres/tropes do you dislike reading?

(results are listed from most to least voted.)

hybrid/omega-verse/abo/werewolf!au — 16 votes

nsfw/smut/suggestive — 13 votes

dad/parent/pregnancy!au — 8 votes

husband/marriage!au — 7 votes

angst — 7 votes

mafia!au — 6 votes

yandere — 6 votes

cheating — 6 votes

enemies to lovers — 6 votes

love triangle — 5 votes

badboy!au — 4 votes

sad ending — 4 votes

one-sided/unrequited love — 3 votes

age gap/dilf — 3 votes

childhood friends to lovers — 3 votes

siblings to lovers/stepbrother!au — 3 votes

fake dating — 3 votes

exes to lovers — 3 votes

supernatural/vampires!au — 3 votes

over-aggression/violence/toxicity/abuse — 3 votes

smau — 2 votes

tsundere — 2 votes

fantasy/royalty — 2 votes

brother’s best friend!au — 1 vote

friends to lovers — 1 vote

idol!au — 1 vote

lovers to enemies — 1 vote

frat boy — 1 vote

college!au — 1 vote

babysitter!au — 1 vote

ceo x assistant — 1 vote

teacher of kid x parent — 1 vote

sci-fi — 1 vote

established relationship — 1 vote

crack — 1 vote

but then there were also 8 people who said they don’t mind any tropes… and 2 people who said they aren’t a fan of any tropes? 🤔

— ⋅⬖⋅ —

how do you feel about slowburn?

in short, the “other” answers were as follows...

slowburn is just yass! although it hurts sometimes 💀💀 but i’d prefer slowburn over fast paced fics, i don’t really want to be in such a rush with things and i think it’s good to have some time while reading, not having the whole thing happen at once.

if it's written well, sure, but most of the time it feels like the author is just playing with us or trying to get the most out of the fic.

i love slowburn but i also have a bad attention span so it takes forever to read which annoys me sometimes. but i think slowburn is cuter.

⋅— PART 2 || PART 3 —⋅

a/n. it would be great if you could help spread the word to other engene writers by reblogging so that they could gain access to this information, too! thank you ^_^

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soldmysoultootomeboys · 4 years

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I love the au swap ! If you dont mind the undateables (+ platonic luke with simeon?) Summoning a demon MC??

Demon MC with Human Undateables

I hope these are okay!! I’ve never written for these characters before so I tried my best

Part 1

Diavolo

When a human summons you, you tend to have an idea of what you’re going to see when you show up, black hoods, cult robes, mysterious sigils signed in blood, NOT an average looking sitting room that appears to be part of a moderately wealthy mansion

Immediately your greeted by a man in an expensive red suit

He looks rather excited to see you, like he wanted to pull you in for a hug right there instead he settles for a handshake

Before you can start your usual spiel on the rules for your pact he interrupts you shaking his head

“I invited you here not as a demon but as a guest. Consider it like improving the relationship between the three realms. What do you say?”

What can you say? A human with knowledge of all three realms was rare but one who invited a demon into his own home was even rarer. You can’t help but be interested in what it is he really wants.

So you agree a pact forming between you two in a second.

You fully expect him to break his promise. After all there isn’t anything in it for him. However a real order never comes and for all intents and purposes you really are treated like a guest.

For a while you had wondered if you were meant to be a servant here, but Diavolo seems more than happy with his staff. In fact his head butler could be a demon with how efficient his service is.

With a little snooping you manage to find a file full of different demons, including you but he easily explained it as possible candidates for his program.

On more than one occasion Diavolo invites you to enjoy tea with him, although you suspect its more of an excuse for you to talk about Devildom. Diavolo is fascinated with the place.

He hangs on to every word you tell him, exclaiming over your cultural differences with excitement.

Whenever you bring back a new snack or devilmade show he’s very eager to watch it with you.

You’re still not sure what he really wants. He continues to treat you as his guest but you can’t help but feel he’s hiding something.

Oh well, it's probably nothing.

Barbatos

Sometime when you make a pact it feels like you’ve lost something. Maybe your freedom, or your dignity, but in this case it doesn’t feel like you’re missing anything at all. In fact its more like you gained a butler.

Even though you’re the demon here, he’s the one who’s always taking care of your every need

Before you can even ask he is offering you cake and tea with refined grace, as if he was born to do it

In fact the two of you end up enjoying some very fine tea parties

At first he insists on serving you but with a little nagging (as well as some bribes in the form of a few special Devildom tea blends) he can be convinced to sit and chat with you

He seems to know a little something about everything making him the perfect conversation partner and listens to you talk about home with a quiet smile. However your favorite times are when he lets loose.

A real smile (drawn out by your presence and a bottle of wine) takes up his face and he’s more personal, teasing you and even talking about himself

However most of your time is spent in the kitchen

He works at a very popular bakery so the two of you spend many afternoons making pastries. You offer what tips you can but he is already a very accomplished baker so there’s not much you can say

Instead you sit on the counter taking swipes of the batter when he isn’t looking (He knows, he just wants you to feel like you’re getting away with something)

It’s on a day just like this you have your first encounter with what would become your worst enemy

He had just opened the cupboard to get more flour when he lets out a bloodcurdling scream

You jolt from your perch. In all your times of living together he had never made such a sound and you peak over his shoulder to see what he’s looking at

Calm as can be sits a plain black rat chilling on top of a pack of sugar

Barbatos is still very much so frozen so you scoop up the animal and go outside to dispose of it

It's kind of gross but not nearly as bad as some of the pests back in Devildom so it’s not that big of a deal

When you walk back inside he has once again composed himself into the picture of dignity but for the next week you are rewarded with as many sweets as your heart desires

After that you makes sure to keep the kitchen free from anymore of the pests and he leaves you more than enough presents for your service

Solomon

Who is this shady man?

He summons you in what looks to be a stereotypical alchemy lab, something you hadn’t seen since like what? The 19nth century? Jeez man move on

He asks you to make a pact and despite your general misgivings you agree

Of ALL of his 87 pacts (now 88) he favors you and you spend a lot of time with him in the human world

Although he’s a rather strange person his work is rather interesting. He has plenty of rare tombs and interesting spells, you just wish he wasn’t so eager to test them on you

Typically you just help him with potion brewing and magic but occasionally you perform other tasks for him too

You also end up meeting quite a few of his other demons including Asmo who was more than interested in having some fun with the both of you, something that you had to politely (and then forcefully when he didn’t get the hint) shoot down

Even though you work with him a lot you still don’t have a clue on what his purpose is

Simeon

He didn’t summon you on purpose...probably?

It’s kind of hard to tell. He seems really religious but he’s also super chill about the fact that you’re there

He acknowledges that you’re a demon but never actually brings it up

When you’re in public he introduces you as a friend of his

It’s actually kind of funny to shake hands with people who would probably scream if they knew who you really were

You end up reading a few of the books he wrote. They’re actually really good. You even find a character that reminds you of you. It’s actually a little too similar really, but it was written before you two had ever met so you guess its just a coincidence.

He asks to see your demon form and as you have no real reason to say no you agree

He’s rather unphased but like Lucifer he’s very interested in your wings. Almost bluntly he asks if you could fly with them, or more importantly if you could fly with him

He’s not a big guy so it’s pretty easy for you to pick him up

It’s not the proximity that has you blushing but his outfit. While you had noticed he was rather scantily clad, it is extremely obvious when you have to touch him, hands pressed tight to the dips in his hips, while an arm is delicately slung around your neck. It takes all your focus not to just have a nosebleed and crash

When you get high enough that the city lights gleam below you and the stars glitter above he becomes very quiet. When you look over to see if you broke your new human you see that he’s just staring at the stars

He seems very at home in the air and holding him isn’t so bad. The two of you stay up there for a long time and when he finally begins to shiver from the altitude you settle on the roof tucked tight to his side watching the stars a little longer. Both of you thinking of a home you can no longer go

Luke

Has a heart attack

Literally has a heart attack

As soon as you appear he’s dialing for Simeon to come help him because there is a DEMON in his house!!

He tries various methods to banish you, most of them hilarious to say the least.

Throwing salt, holy water, and even a shoe when he got desperate was about all he had in his arsenal. You actually laughed at that last one or at least you did before he started to cry

You give Simeon a pleading glance but when he only gives a mysterious smile at you in return you decide to scoop Luke up. He complains but pushes further into your chest anyways.

Once he starts calming down to the point where he doesn’t try to exorcise you whenever you enter a room he’s not that bad

In fact he’s pretty fun to hang around with.

He spends a lot of time baking and you’re able to buy his affection by offering to teach him Devildom recipes

After helping him make yet another batch of cupcakes together you find that you actually really like the kid???

After this he’s going to be the most protected child in the entire world

Bullies beware between you and Simeon nothing is going to happen to Luke on your watch

Luke tries to rein you in most of the time so you have to make sure to do anything when he’s not watching

For the most part he pretends like he doesn’t like demons, but in the end it's obvious that he really cares about you

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canonicallysoulmates · 3 years

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🎃Halloween themed wincest fic rec🎃

This fic rec is, primarily, Halloween themed but you’ll also find some horror as well as just in general autumn themed fics all to, hopefully, get y’all in the spirit of the spooky season!

There’s all sorts of ratings, some weecest, a non-related Hocus Pocus AU, hopefully you’ll find something to your liking among all of these fics.

As always please head all warnings and tags as some of these fics do contain graphic and heavy topics.

Happy reading, and Happy Halloween my fellow wincest shippers! 🎃

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Halloween

Eight-Legged Freaks. by anniespinkhouse

Sam/Dean (Wincest) Outsider POV. Takes place early in season 8 but no particular spoilers except for Sam’s hair. Biddy owns a candy store. She also talks to spiders. When FBI agents Sam Smith and Dean Jones investigate a possible haunting, on Halloween evening, the consequence of Dean eating too much candy is disturbing. It’s a race against time for Sam to find a way to return Dean to normal.

The Rocky Horror Sam Show by RockSaltandCherryPie *

Sam goes to a Halloween party and dresses up like Frank N. Furter but ends up looking more like a girl than anything else.

the one that lives behind his heart by Addie_D_123 *

Dean is the spark, Sam is the fire.

The Witch's Dance by brimstonegold and virtualpersonal *

It's either coincidence, or irony, but Sam and Dean find themselves hunting for a witch at The Witch's Dance, a party being given at the local haunted mansion on Halloween. What they find is not the kind of dance they expected.

hell is empty; all the little brothers are here by bellaaanovak

Dean just wants to make the rundown house they’re squatting in look cool for Halloween, but Sam isn’t so excited about strangers in corny costumes knocking on the door for candy. Not when there’s a gang of ghouls wreaking havoc in the neighborhood, anyways.

Greaspaint and Fairy Dust by Syls Darkplace (sylsdarkplace)

It’s Halloween. Sam’s least favorite holiday, and what should be the investigation of a simple salt and burn goes awry when Dean gets caught with his hand in the candy cauldron.

Here is where you’ll stay by belyste

Sam, Dean, and haunted hayride. Halloween!fic.

A Winchester Halloween by ello_kitty *

A short story about how the brothers spend the holiday.

Triple XY Or The Hunter, His Bitch And Their Offspring by mpregloveranon

This is the answer to this Halloween!Prompt over at the spnkink_meme. Without reveal to much already I’ll just keep the summary really short. After being cursed Sam is knocked up by his brother. On Halloween he is heavily pregnant with triplets and completely miserable. Dean feels sorry for his baby brother, especially because he pissed the witch off who cursed Sam, and takes good care of him. Throw in raging hormones, some schmoop, some angst and cute little kids and you’ll get the idea what this fic is about. ;)

Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) by Ignited *

It’s Halloween, and the locals aren’t clued in to the fact that those things going bump in the night are much more than fabric and latex. Sam and Dean learn this fact the hard way as the clock winds down and a town’s about to be overrun by monsters.

The Witches of Salem by Revenant

There's a legend in Salem, of three sisters accused and hung for the crime of witchcraft, but not before they had killed several of the local children and placed another under a terrible curse. It is said that on Hallowe'en night, when the moon is full, the witches will rise again when a virgin lights the Black Flame Candle.

A little over three hundred years later, Sam Winchester is passing through town trying out his newly awarded independence on what he suspects will be a simple salt-and-burn; why can’t things ever go like he plans?

Why not stay and be caught? by deirdre_c *

Sam wishes to go to The Palace.

Pretty Princess by orphan_account *

Sam is excited to go to a Halloween Party… And then his first heat hits.

Take a Good Look by BewareTheIdes15 *

Sam, Dean, and a haunted house with a mirror maze - sounds like pwp to me!

Kids These Days by Magz (sparklepocalypse) *

Halloween parties are never simple when there are Winchesters involved.

Thy Back to the Forest (and Thy Front to Us) by PetraPan *

For the last three years in Stillwater, Oklahoma, children have disappeared—always five young girls, always on consecutive days, and always during the week of Halloween. By the day the Winchester's pull into town, Sam is enrolled for school, he’s stuck once more on research duty, and Dean already has a date. Sam juggles his new schoolwork, the case, and the ever-growing bitterness at the desire he feels for Dean as best as he can, but at some point he can no longer manage all three. With their father constantly absent and a nasty time constraint, Sam and Dean struggle to figure out who—or what—is taking young girls, just as they struggle to find the balance between brothers and something more.

Sugar Sweet by fallingintodivinity

“What’s all this stuff?” Sam asks warily. He gingerly picks up a bottle of red fluid and squints at it.

“Fake blood!” Dean says cheerfully. “It’s cherry-flavored,” he adds helpfully.

“But why,” Sam says, bewildered.

“Dunno,” Dean says. “It was on sale. Tastes pretty good, actually. Here, lemme show you.”

Halloween by EasyTiga *

Sam and Dean go to a Halloween party for a case and at least one of them can't keep their mind on the mission because of the outfit choice.

Hush Little Baby by hellhoundsprey *

Together with his friends, Sam visits a haunted house. It's Halloween. (Sam is 16, Dean is 20.)

Halloween and High Schoolers by onesillygoose *

I'm realizing how bad my summaries are. Anyway... Sam gets invited to a Halloween party. Dean tags along. Things never go as they should for the Winchesters.

Pumpkin Patch by KissingWinchesters

It's Halloween and Dean decides to steal a giant pumpkin.

VII - One candy left by KissingWinchesters

There’s a piece of melting, sticky caramel pressed into the centre of Sam’s back.

Candy, Pumpkin Spice, And Orgasms by KissingWinchesters

Dean takes Sam to a quaint town on Halloween. Their relationship develops.

He Never Saw the Look by orphan_account

Sam's got a secret. He's in love with his big brother. Little does he know, Dean shares the same dirty little secret.

Pretty Little Thing by Miss_Lv *

Teenager Dean goes to a Halloween party for some fun, he spots a pretty little thing and chases her all evening, flirting, and eventually cornering her. Once his got his hands on her though he realizes she is actually a he, but he's fine with that. Sam snuck out after Dean just because he could, he picked a costume he knew Dean would never recognize him in. After spending the evening being chased by his brother Sam ends up in a semi public place with Dean all over him. Sam's stupid crush on his own brother is not helping matters either.

this way comes by estrella30 *

Written for spn_halloween based on prompt #127: Sam goes to a Halloween party his first year at Stanford and gets dragged off by a guy in a mask who makes out with him. He discovers it's Dean, and the making-out continues with a vengeance.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Horror

Diamond Dogs by kassidy *

Prompt: Supernatural, Sam/Dean, werewolfism - one turns and takes the other down (interpret as you will) for dark_fest LJ comm

A Silent, Creeping Killer by lily rose (annabeth) *

Not long after Dean picks Sam up from Stanford, Sam and Dean go undercover as an engaged couple to investigate the murder of a lesbian hockey player in small-town Connecticut. Along the way, they meet dedicated lovers, frightening ghosts, and the possibility that their ruse might be becoming all too real. How will they handle their changing feelings for each other? Who will protect the lovers and tenants of the Windsor boarding house? And what does all this have to do with the play 'Arsenic and Old Lace'?

darling by allwellandgood

Dean is dead. Sam has a theory that nothing will ever hurt again.

I Wonder as I Wander by dollylux

Bobby sends Sam and Dean to investigate a strange town.

Let Me Take You Far Away by orphan_account *

Season 10. It's exactly what they need. A vacation. That's how Dean can make everything else go away. Cas was right. That's all they need. A nice, little vacation.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Fall/Autumn themed

Death of the Petals by doctor__idiot

Dean has always thought that fall held some sort of magic.

Where You Are [Is Where I Belong] by non_tiembo_mala

Sam is stuck in class on a beautiful fall day. His mind wanders and it always ends up on Dean.

Hazy Hunter's Moon by GhostlyVoid *

Sam saves a hunter who got attacked by a werewolf, knowing exactly what trouble he's inviting into his home. The hunter, Dean, is predictably less than thrilled owing his life to a witch.

Delicious Autumn by sammichgirl

Dean just wants to give Sam a great day full of some favorite things.

Autumn Leaves by dragonspell *

In the weak light of early morning, the autumn leaves are starting to paint the woods in reds and golds and a burning orange. On some level or another, Dean knows that it’s beautiful; he does. He's just got to find Sam first.

#wincest #wincest fic rec #mine #this was supposed to be up on monday but life hapened #so...it's still halloween in places it's fine #this is probably the longest fic rec i've done

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maxparkhurst · 3 years

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River Stones

The air was thick with summer heat, tasting of salty brine and realism. Hot winds rolled in over the fetid Sounde. Quietly suffocated the last inkling of spring idealism in the relentless humidity. Oppressive in the morning with only the scorching promise of a sunburnt blue sky in the afternoon, the days dragged on at an unforgiving drawl. Boralus responded in kind. Men shed their shirts and women bathed by luncheon. Children doused themselves in the sea and elderly sheltered in the shade. By the third bell toll, the Harbor was quiet as some retreated for an afternoon nap.

With the bustle of the city fading into a distant hum, Max waded knee-deep through brackish waters. Majority of her afternoon was spent in the Winterdeep Basin searching for Riversbud. The channel flowed near Bridgeport, just on the outskirts of Boralus. Waterfalls brought run-off from the mountain peaks, tempering the water with tepid pleasantry. Max appreciated the reprieve from summer’s blistering heat as she cut through the water’s glass surface and rummaged through its depths. Her skin greedily drank from it. The sun had rubbed her shoulders, elbows, and cheeks raw on the trek here. Dried and stretched her skin like a piece of papyrus waiting to become parchment. Having just her elbows submerged sent chills down her spine. She could only imagine how heavenly it would feel to sit beneath the waterfalls until she shriveled like a prune. Alas, there was work to be done and o’ so little time to play.

Her fingers skidded over river stones, feeling along their worn-smooth faces. It probably spent years hidden in the creek. Its story eroded by an endless stream until only a featureless stone remained, evolving into a perfect version of itself. As all things do. As it is written. A disquiet smile touched her lips as she flipped the stone over. The mud beneath was chilling and rife with algae. She bit back a disgusted whine as she dug through the slime. Buried beneath the muck, a stalk of Riversbud grew. Its sewn blades brushed against her fingers. Elation warmed her numb hand.

Max saddled back on her haunches and plunged her other hand into the brackish waters. She took a deep breath, counted to three, and pulled with all her might. The stalk didn’t need much coaxing. It ripped from the mud without so much as a protest, and all her efforts sent Max reeling back. Her feet slid over the smooth stones. Her arms windmilled for purchase. She blinked incredulously as she found herself staring up at the sky, creek water slowly seeping through her clothes. The execution was far from perfect…

Bemusement melted into quiet contemplation. Inspite of it all, the water felt incredible against her flushed skin. She blew out a sigh and closed her eyes. Allowed the stream to wash over her and smooth away all her imperfections. It murmured secrets in her ear. Foretold the cycles from summer to winter and back again. And she listened. Listened to the whine of bloodflies and the hum of cicadas; to the whisper of a sea breeze and the drawl of the creek; to the flushed song of an encroaching season which blanketed the Sounde in a scent of cotton meal seed. And clenched in her fist was evidence. Riversbud caught in a clump of still drying mud that seeped through her fingers.

The sound of laughter dancing through the air broke Max from her stupor. She peeked an eye open and searched the creek bank. Master Reynold’s met her gaze with a withered smile as he leaned over his cane. He canted his head and breathed another laugh. “Having fun?”

Warmth swelled in Max’s chest. Her lips curled into a wide, toothy grin as she threw herself up and hoisted her prize. “Yes!”

All things have their seasons. A young apprentice should cherish their summers. Embrace them. Keep them close for they will need them when winter comes. When the water stops flowing and the lake freezes over. All an apprentice will have are their summers to keep them warm as they tread across brittle ice.

*** Max stood at the door where Light, Death, and the Deep meet. Surveyed the second-floor apartment with an air of familiarity despite never having stepped through its threshold. The sky was still grey as the sun began its slow crawl into the sky. Winter’s touch lingered on the crisp air, sending goosed-flesh along her arms. She warmed herself by lighting a cigarette, allowing the buzz of nicotine to settle thick over her skin as she searched the closed off windows for answers.

“Where did you go?” she muttered, tendrils of smoke spilling over her lips.

She breathed a single syllable laugh when she was met by the distant squalling of gulls. Foolish of her to think she’d find a response. The curtains were closed and the apartment was empty. There’d be no unfolding of truths- not here, at least. Not any more.

Max sucked down the cigarette in a few greedy puffs before tucking the bud in her pocket. She chewed on the remnant burn in her throat. Let it ground her in the moment as she slipped from the apartment’s shadow and into the street. The path she followed wasn’t one marked by map or sign, but by the footsteps of another’s nightly ritual. Its stones weathered and worn, possessing stories hidden in their little imperfections. With half-lidded eyes, Max traced the path. Only barely aware of the awakening city as she coaxed secrets from the stone.

Did the scent of salt feel nostalgic? Make her think of summers spent wading through creeks? Or was it the quiet of a road less traveled that allured Seraanna? The temptation to steep in shadows too much to ignore?

She paused just below the entry arch in King’s Rest, a scowl pulling her lips taut. Those were all her own thoughts. Truth be told, Max found it hard to conjure an image of the Ren’dorei. Nothing but wisps of shadows and whispers came to mind. And in their depths, within the dark between the stars, she found inklings of doubt.

Have you considered the idea that this is all deliberate? A ploy for attention?

Those accusations rang cold and hollow. She didn’t want to believe them, but as she stood alone on the narrow streets she began to wonder. Max shoved her hands in her pocket. Continued her walk down into the promenade. Gone without a word or trace. Seemed so uncharacteristic for someone who thought in layers; someone clever enough to name her home the place where Light, Death, and the Deep meet; someone like Seraanna. Or, so she thought… The dynamic between her and Seraana had always appeared fair; a truth for a truth. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps she didn’t know the woman as well as she thought. Not enough to devalue the idea that this had all been part of a greater design.

Max finally came to rest at a lamp post. She leaned against it with all the familiarity of an old friend, looking out over King’s Rest as she stewed in her own misgivings. Felt pointless to continue the walk. Wasn’t much else she could do. Nothing that Mary and Foxrun couldn’t. Another sigh passed from Max’s lips as she reached into her pocket for her cigarette tin. Perhaps this was for the better. It’d be one less person who knew about Crimson.

The metallic tin glistened in the morning’s light, her reflection casted back. She gave herself a melancholy grin before popping open the tin. It’d be one less person who listened.

Max chewed on a fresh cigarette.

There are no such things as coincidences. Just a single narrative written by the same hand. Just like a river stone born to be smoothed of imperfections, everything has a destiny. And the whole of the universe conspires for your success in achieving your destiny. You just have to listen.

You need to take action and listen…

And a smile crept on her lips. There rested her problem. Not with a one-sided trade of truths. No. She simply hadn’t been listening.

[Mentions: @longveil & @foxglovethings ]

[ Continuation from here ]

#max parkhurst #the alchemist #seraanna longveil #character writing

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prorevenge · 3 years

Text

Ridiculed, accused of lying and incompetence, I shoved burning facts down their throats and made a successful business in the process.

"The best revenge is massive success." -Frank Sinatra

TL;DR; Told I was lying and didn't know anything about game design. Made a spite video game that became a huge hit. Jackass is also forever immortalized within the game credits.

PREFACE

This is a very unusual story compared to the typical posts you've read here. There's a lot to unpack but I'll try to summarize everything as best I can.

I hope you'll find it as entertaining as I did. And, what's great about this story is that it happened very recently, it happened here, evidence is searchable, and it's still kinda on-going. It's a tale of trolls, video game addiction, self-righteous arrogance, harassment, winning an impossible bet, a viral hit in Russia, and massive success with even some little revenge sprinkles for added measure.

Quick background about me: I've worked with game developers for decades and I'm an avid researcher and supporter of unorthodox and ethical video games used for educational and clinical purposes.

HOW IT STARTED

Two months ago, there was a new reddit post about "using video game to ease depression" that caught my attention.

The reason it caught my attention was because it was a game & study that I had in-depth knowledge of (from over a year prior.) Unlike everyone else in the thread, I was the only one who had actually seen the game, played it, knew the developers, and even had the original technical game design documents.

The article discussed a variety of topics but never addressed exactly HOW the video game was able to ease depression. So, I provided a quickly summary of what the game actually did.

[SKIP THIS SECTION IF NEUROSCIENCE & GAME DESIGN DON'T INTEREST YOU]

A quick side note about this article, for those that like extra details: One of the cool properties of ketamine is that, not only can it provide rapid and temporary relief for depression, it also actively heals damaged brain circuits. Then there's dopamine. A chemical that we internally produce, that has similar but less potent effects. There is no cure for depression, but these are promising treatments for some. The article focused on what's called "flow". Using certain game design methods you can induce a "flow state" by causing a sustained dopamine release. When used ethically, it can be highly beneficial in stimulating/training the brain to perform certain activities, improve or learn memorization, adapt to challenges, learn new concepts, exercise motor skills, and meanwhile rebuild pathways/synapses. While all of this is happening, the user is receiving pleasurable rewards without realizing it. This process can create new pathways, repair old circuits, and increasing their neuroplasticity. Increased neuroplasticity means improved cognitive functioning, reducing impairment of the reward process, and improving the effectiveness of antidepressant medications. Video games can be a unique non-drug option to accomplish this while easing symptoms. Research has already shown that many popular games can already accomplish this (unintended effects by the game developers). By comparison, the game design they used in this theoretical study was highly limited in scope, so permanent benefits were negligible compared to the temporary respite brought about by basic dopamine release. Science is still barely scratching the surface of neurotransmitters and flow state. There are still many unknowns, but dopamine isn't just a pleasure chemical that the media would like you to be believe. It can do quite a number of things. Research has shown that "flow state" can modify synaptic plasticity, improve connectors between cells/synapses, ultimately helping cells in the brain communicate better as a network and improve neural system intrinsic properties.

My summary posting was fine for a while, until predictable trolls arrived led by an "armchair game developer". Dr. Armchair definitely did not appreciate my post. It was an affront and insult to his profession. Within a few minutes, it dropped 30 karma. I don't care about imaginary internet points but I don't like being accused of lying. Dr. Armchair and his pals started with the usual "do you even lift?" Then it was quickly asserted, from their armchairs, that I knew nothing about flow, psychology, dopamine or game design at all. From their high horses, they contributed nothing useful; only taunts, defamation, attacking my character and physical appearance, and accusing me of being a liar and incompetence.

Apparently it was a very sensitive topic. Who knew?

It quickly devolved into Dr. Armchair gleefully, and repeatedly claiming, that he won, he was right, and I was wrong. He demanded that I essentially write a 300 page peer-reviewed study to prove him wrong, and when it couldn't be provided within 5 minutes, there were more gleeful cheers of "HAHA! I WAS RIGHT! I WAS RIGHT! I'M NOT LISTENING TO YOU LALALALALA.."

Obviously, it was going to be impossible to reason with Dr. Armchair and his buddies. But actions speak louder than words.

So, I claimed that I would provide undeniable proof in the form of a video game "a few months from now" that he could actually play for himself. Once again, claiming that I was lying and it was impossible. And more of the usual "It's been 5 minutes, where is it? Oh, you can't do it can you. HA! I was right! I BEAT YOU! I BEAT YOU!"

It was weird.

Eventually the mods had enough. Dr. Armchair and his cronies harassment, ad hominem attacks, accusations and inflammatory attacks resulted in multiple posts being removed. But my promise still stood and I fully intended on keeping it.

THE BOLD CLAIM

The plan was simple:

Create a proof of concept that demonstrates just the critical neuroscience principles that induce flow. To prove it beyond a doubt, I intended to also prove that MOST COMMON INGREDIENTS of a game are completely UNNECESSARY to accomplish this.

So, I made the very confident claim that the game would still be fun, addictive, and demonstrate flow state, even after ripping everything out:

No extras or frills. Built within a short period of time.

No music. No sound effects. No animations. No story.

No expensive art. In fact, hardly any at all: I would use ONE SINGLE ART ASSET for the gameplay (plus some lines.)

No feature creep. No sign-in system. No gacha mechanics.

No level design. No achievements. No RPG gamifications.

I could get at least a couple hundred people to play it.

I should have also mentioned that it would be built with ZERO BUDGET and NO MARKETING.

If this sounds like a strange way to make a game, it is. For a typical game developer, this would raise many eyebrows, and they'd consider it highly risky or improbable to achieve any success with both arms figurately tied behind your back while blindfolded.

HOW IT ENDED

While I was preparing to stress test the game online, it was discovered by .ru bots that were scouring the web for new games. Even before the game was ready, they published the game link on several Russian gaming sites.

The game exploded.

It has graphical similarities to Tetris, so it was a nice coincidence that the game essentially launched and did so well in Russia at first. After that, other game sites started discovering the game on their own too, even before I had a chance to submit the game myself. Most importantly, the proof of concept and everything I claimed worked (high ratings and retention). It proved so effective that the game is currently being played by hundreds of thousands of users worldwide. And it's a clear demonstration about the importance of combining psychology and game design.

I suppose you could say that there are many layers of revenge happening here, maybe even karmic justice or backfiring on their part, it's really hard to classify. The best kind of revenge is always massive success, and shoving it in their faces, however. But, on top of that, I also fully kept to my promises while proving these ignorant individuals so wrong they look like fools.

I also added some extra salt to the wound. I figured that success of the game was partly due to Dr. Armchair's ignorance. It was only fair that I included his name within the Game Credits. So, I officially gave this very wonderful human being a very "special thanks" for their support in making this success possible.

(source) story by (/u/postfu)

#prorevenge #by /u/postfu #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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thegrimmgrimm · 4 years

Text

Inspired by these fun and funky pieces here and here by @requestwitcher

Enjoy 😘🛹🏖️

Realising that's his boyfriend's fifteen year old foster kid is somehow undeniably much cooler than he'll ever be is the final nail in the coffin for Jaskier to really start feeling his age.

The moment that really hammers it home comes one Summer afternoon as Jaskier, Geralt, Yennefer and Triss enjoy the sunshine with a walk along the beach, and completely by coincidence run into Ciri and some of her friends by the skatepark.

Momentarily unbeknownst to the others as they make smalltalk (and Geralt tries to scold Ciri as painlessly as possible for not wearing her protective gear), Jaskier is having a complete internal breakdown.

As soon as they wander out of earshot from the teens, Jaskier wails dramatically, "It's finally happening. I'm getting old."

The other three, all at least two years his senior, let out simultaneous groans.

"You're not old Jaskier, you're 27." Geralt's tone is entirely unsympathetic.

"Look at her Geralt! She's wearing a snapback! And Jordans." Jaskier bemoans.

"Jordans you bought her." Yennefer not-so-kindly reminds him from behind a pair of huge, colourful sunglasses.

Ignoring her statement, Jaskier continues in his whining, "Am I going to have to start wearing bootcut jeans?? Or god forbid plain tees???"

Geralt, currently wearing bootcut jeans and a plain white t-shirt, manages not to feel offended, sharing a particularly amused glance with Triss.

The four of them meander over to and and down the pier, Jaskier hardly stopping for breath as he continues to lament his approaching fate as a washed-up, geriatric pop star. Triss, as the most trustworthy of the group, decides to take initiative once they come to the end of the worn wooden planks.

"Hey Jask, can I borrow your phone for a sec?" She asks, innocent as anything.

Only barely registering the request, Jaskier hands over the device without a second thought.

Scarcely a moment later, he finds himself spluttering, shocked and betrayed; a particularly well placed nudge from his traitor of a boyfriend sending him flying off the end of the pier and into the clear water below.

Jaskier really tries not to pout as he hears the giggles, guffaws, and straight up cackling from above him, but when Geralt's head appears over the edge to check on him, the look on his face says Jaskier has not succeeded.

Jaskier, sopping wet and mightily enraged, hauls himself up the iron ladder, hard on his palms and soles, even through his shoes.

"You fuckers, I like these shoes!! Now they're gonna be all crusty from the salt and they'll never be the same!" Jaskier is complaining again before he's even over and in view of the others, which only sets the other three off laughing again.

By the time Jaskier has managed to scale the end of the jetty, his anger has twisted into mischief. Yennefer, while lucky enough to have put down her purse, is unfortunately careless enough to be standing with her back to Jaskier as he climbs over the edge.

Triss and Geralt do absolutely nothing but smile innocently as they catch the mischievous glint in Jaskier's eye, and as he takes hold of her and pulls the both of them back over the edge with a scandalised yelp.

As the two above merrily piss themselves with laughter and the two below playfully try to drown each other, Jaskier supposes he's not yet too old for a little fun.

#unrestrained summer fun #The Witcher #Jaskier #geraskier #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt of rivia #Triss Merigold #modern au stuff #my writing #witcher ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon

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cherrybombusa · 3 years

Photo

GROUP THREE - THE CAROUSEL. FAILED.

PLAYERS:

THE HEARTBREAK KID - Casey Russell. THE ARTIST - Sloane Salt. THE CLASSIC - Libby Logan.

EARNED PERKS:

- PUZZLERS: Talk about minds of freakin’ steel! As the only group to solve the puzzle in ONE guess, Casey Russell, and Sloane Salt have both earned themselves a chance to go back and fix it! If a choice happens to go wrong for them in a future event, they will be allowed ONE do-over. Use it wisely!

MEMORABLE MOMENTS:

- Casey fell on his face, and cost the group a time penalty on his run back from the Ferris Wheel. - The Gang only used one try in their puzzle, and succeeded! - Sloane dropped the second key, and failed to disarm the Candy Girl’s bomb. The carousel was destroyed in the blast. - As the one who dropped the key, Sloane was blamed for the destruction of the carousel, and arrested. On the bright side, she saved Libby and Casey from spending a night in jail... But this will come back to bite them all in-game.

When it was put there, he doesn’t know, but the note should be enough to make Casey’s heart skip. There, in the case of his instrument is a folded piece of paper. On its surface? A threat. “COME TO THE NEW CAROUSEL AT 7:30PM SHARP, OR YOUR SECRET IS MINE TO SPILL!” @caseyfm

When it was put there, she doesn’t know, but the note should be enough to make Sloane’s heart skip. There, hidden within her deck of tarot cards is a folded piece of paper. On its surface? A threat. “COME TO THE NEW CAROUSEL AT 7:30PM SHARP, OR YOUR SECRET IS MINE TO SPILL!” @saltofthcearth

When it was put there, she doesn’t know, but the note should be enough to make Libby’s heart skip. There, in her ride locker, is a folded piece of paper. On its surface? A threat. “COME TO THE NEW CAROUSEL AT 7:30PM SHARP, OR YOUR SECRET IS MINE TO SPILL!” @hellolibby

THE NARRATOR: Reunions were supposed to be pleasant occasions, weren’t they? They were supposed to bring feelings of joy, and nostalgia; you were supposed to forget the awkward haze that had plagued your years of high school, and… pretend like the good old days were actually just that. Good. Absence did make the heart grow fonder and all that, didn’t it?

Though, maybe it’s silly to wonder why this little reunion might not be so pleasant. The three of them - Casey, Libby, and Sloane - all walk up to the Carousel at the same time. They all meet each other’s eyes, and though nobody says it, everyone hears the same thought in their head. ‘Fuck.’

LIBBY: "So..." Libby's voice wavers dangerously - her hands shake, cast and all - but somehow she fights every urge she has within herself to run the other direction before chaos can unravel itself all around them. If the Candy Girl wanted them all here, then she doubted running away would be of much use. They were all trapped in Cherry… But this time, it wasn’t ‘small town syndrome’ keeping them back. "Probably safe to assume running into each other here isn't just a coincidence, right?"

SLOANE: There was an urge to reach out to the both of them and pull them in close that Sloane resisted, looking between Libby and Casey. So much for a lull in this Candy Girl's machinations, it seems a week was enough for her to plan something more. She swallowed thickly and then shook her head, folding her arms over her chest nervously. "Well, obviously I wouldn't be here if I didn't need to be." She motioned towards the Carousel. Talk about betraying her cause.

CASEY: Casey follows Sloane's gesture to the carousel. How did wooden horses somehow seem so menacing at night? It was thirty minutes before Mystic Cherry were due to perform and instead he was here about to do...? The sinking feeling in his gut tells him that this is going to lead to no good. "Yeah, this definitely isn't my idea of a warm up before a gig..." he mumbles, before his gaze falls on them both.

THE NARRATOR: There’s no clock to strike the time - nothing to let them know that 7:30-sharp has approached but the faint sound of Dean Hargrove’s voice in the distance is enough to let them know. They're all watching each other, but they can't help but flinch at the intrusion of the sound... And then, yet again ,when Hargrove is cut off by a voice that none of them quite recognize. They’re too far away to hear what the commotion is about, but somehow they know… Their night just took a turn for the worse.

It would have been impressive timing if it weren’t so fucking frightening, but at just that moment, their very own issue of the Cherry Bomb is dropped from the roof of the carousel, and onto it’s platform - near one of the old horses that looked a little too off-it’s-rocker. It’s clearly meant for them… It has to be. The only problem? The Gang is stuck, woefully, behind a locked fence.

There are a few ways to get to it, at least. They could always take their chances climbing the fence to get inside of the Carousel; it doesn’t look that high.

Casey knows the guys who work here… They’re always leaving things lying around. Maybe it might be best to look around for a lanyard someone might have dropped.

Then again, Libby has been treating the Boardwalk like a second home since she was just a kid, and she says there’s always another way in… Maybe they look for a hole in the fence?

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST RETRIEVE THE CHERRY BOMB. DO YOU CLIMB THE GATE [SURVIVOR], LOOK FOR A LANYARD [PROBLEM SOLVING], OR LOOK FOR A HOLE IN THE FENCE [PERCEPTION]?

LIBBY: "Come on, guys, Casey's right. What are the odds that someone didn't drop their key? It's the boardwalk." It's easy to tell when Libby is determined to get something done. For the first time that day, she ties her hair up in a high ponytail - she crinkles her nose as she scans the area. She probably looked a little too much like a 60’s witch from her favorite sick day show - but, she can’t help herself. Libby always felt a little smarter when she was acting like somebody else. "Sloane - you look over by the hot dog cart. Case, you should probably take the space behind the ride, and I'll... Look everywhere else. I guess.

THE NARRATOR: It’s really a wonder the boardwalk even stays open, considering how careless some of the employees can be, but after a few minutes of searching for a stray key, our little slice of the gang finds their hands on one. They unlock the gate with ease and all pile in toward the Carousel; eager to get their hands on that ominous little magazine.

The cover of the Cherry Bomb is collaged with photos of Lux, the inside? Crime scene photos. There’s no pictures of her body, of course - that would be crude, even for the Candy Girl… kind of. But images of the blood soaked into her carpet; still pictures of her bedroom, flaunting a life once lived, those are there. A shot of her suicide note, ‘I’m sorry, I love you,’ and all.

And right there, in the middle of the spread, like a centerfold? A note, written in Sharpie - just for our ragtag little slice of the gang.

CANDY GIRL: GET OUT,,, GET OUT, WHEREVER YOU’RE LOCKED!!!! NOT A FAN OF SMALL SPACES?? I’LL STICK YOU IN A BOX. SOMEONE IS MISSING, BUT I WON’T SAY WHO… FIND THE KEY, AND FIND OUT WHO.

BUT WATCH OUT, WATCH OUT! YOU’RE ON THE CLOCK! LET IT RUN OUT, AND THEY’LL STAY IN THE BOX. WILL THE TIDE COME IN? HMM, MAYBE IT WON’T. OR BETTER YET? MAYBE YOUR FRIENDS WILL FLOAT.

YOU’RE NOT LOCKED IN, BUT IT’S STILL ON YOU! FIND THE KEY, OR THIS FRIEND DIES TOO.

THE NARRATOR: Oh...my. Now, that’s quite the predicament, isn’t it? I suppose we’re at least lucky that the Candy Girl leaves the rules simple, right? Find a key, and maybe she doesn’t kill one of your friends. Maybe.

MAKE A CHOICE: ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED AND LOCKED AWAY IN A BOX. YOU MUST FIND THE KEY TO SAVE THEM. DO YOU LOOK FOR CLUES [PROBLEM SOLVING], OR SEARCH FOR A KEY WILDLY [LUCK - HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARD]?

SLOANE: Despite the rising heart rate that Sloane is sporting after looking through that shiny new issue of the Cherry Bomb and the revelation of this new note, she's standing tall, directing the other two. "Divide and conquer, like before. There have gotta be clues around here somewhere... she dropped this from the roof, maybe there's something else." Sloane's boots carry her around the perimeter of the Carousel as she searches for something, anything to give an indication of who is in the box and a way to find this damn key.

THE NARRATOR: Look for clues. Good idea, Sloane! They split up, but maybe it's better that way.

Libby stays focused on the sharpie scribbled riddle in the ‘zine while the other two search the operator’s booth up and down for something useful. Not so useful, but strange enough to take note of? A cherry red briefcase, shoved into one of the dusty, storage lockers. Not only that… but maybe there’s actually more to the note than they thought.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST FIGURE OUT THE PUZZLE. ADMIN EM IS HERE TO HELP, BUT MAYBE TRY THE WELCOME DESK TO START.

SLOANE: With shaky hands, Sloane reaches for the briefcase, after staring at the damn riddle for what felt like so long the words had ceased to make sense. She input their first attempt at cracking the code: 3142.

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS!

THE NARRATOR: With the numbers all in the correct order, the briefcase pops open rather easily. They find a key, but along with it, our little gang sees a mess of wires, something that looks like a keyhole, a clock ticking down…. And a note.

CANDY GIRL: ANOTHER SURPRISE - AND THIS WILL BE FUN - I GOTTA GO, I GOTTA RUN! BUT BEFORE I DO, I PLANTED A BOMB! AND IT WILL BLOW UP WHEN THE TIMER SAYS ONE! SO, FIND A NEW KEY, TRY OUT THE LOCK! SEE IF YOU CAN DISARM IT - BEAT THE CLOCK! BUT IF YOU DON’T - AND YOU DON’T GO BOOM - THEN ENJOY THE INTERROGATION ROOM!

WHERE TO FIND THE KEY? THAT’S A DIFFERENT STORY. I’M TALL, AND I’M ROUND, AND I’M SLOW, AND I’M BORING! I’M FAR AWAY, SO YOU’LL HAVE TO SPRINT, BUT IF YOU’RE RIGHT, YOU WON’T TAKE THE HIT. YOUR SECOND OPTION? MERRY GO ROUND! CLIMB ALL THE WAY UP! OR SOMEONE WILL DROWN. THE KEY COULD BE THERE, THE KEY COULD BE NOT… OH, WELL, FIND OUT! OR MAYBE YOU’LL ROT.

THE NARRATOR: Well, the threat is clear. They must solve the riddle, get the second key, and disarm the bomb before the timer runs out… if they don’t, the whole thing might be coming down. And they might just go down with it.

CASEY: A bomb. They were now dealing with a bomb. The words barely have a chance to register in his mind before they're all scrambling to work out what the words on the paper mean and how to save their friend. With his heart still in his mouth, it barely feels like it has a moment to settle before he's spluttering out, "it has to be the ferris wheel, right?" Looking at both of his friends for their sign of agreement.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU HAVE DECIDED TO GO TO THE FERRIS WHEEL. NOW YOU MUST DECIDE WHO SPRINTS THERE BEFORE THE TIMER RUNS OUT. [STRENGTH, FIGHTER, BRAVERY.]

CASEY: With the agreement of his friends - he's bolting off. Barely a thought running through his head other than the knowledge that he has to get to the ferris wheel before the timer ticks down to zero. Their friendship circle has suffered enough with Lux's death without adding in a casualty at the hands of Candy Girl. Scrambled together with the thought that he's lost enough family over the years, too. So, it's sheer brute force that gets him through the sprint, running like his own life depends on it because... well... it kinda does. With the ferris wheel in sight, he hopes he will make it in time.

THE NARRATOR: Heart racing, chest aching; adrenaline pulsing through his veins, but somehow he finds the key hanging from the Ferris’ Wheel’s gate like a prize less than two minutes later. With that in his hands, he just has to sprint all the way back to the carousel to save his friends.

It should be just as easy - it has to be - but maybe the pressure of getting back in time is getting to his head, because on the way back… Casey stumbles. It’s not it’s the wipeout of the century, but it certainly shaves some time off of that fucking timer in the briefcase. Not to mention some skin off of his face -- and is that blood dripping down his collar? Fuck.

MAKE A CHOICE: MODERATE SUCCESS. THE GANG HAS SUFFERED A TIME PENALTY DUE TO CASEY’S STUMBLE.

THE NARRATOR: They have the key, and now they just have to disarm that fucking bomb. It seems simple enough… But it would probably be better if whoever did it was calm. Or good at problem solving. Or just… Really, really, really good at surviving bleak situations. Any takers?

MAKE A CHOICE: SOMEONE HAS TO DISARM THE BOMB [CALM, PROBLEM-SOLVING, SURVIVOR.]

SLOANE: Sloane has dealt with many a crisis, but none so bad as this one, when lives are on the line and there's a god damn bomb in a briefcase like they're in a cheesy 80s action flick. Taking a deep breath, she takes the key from Casey, worried eyes having to fight to not focus in on his injury. They don't have time. They have to do this. "I can do it." She assures them both, steadying her hands and clenching her jaw as she lifts the key towards the keyhole steadily. "Fuck it." She mutters as she tries the one they've retrieved.

THE NARRATOR: Holy shit. Holy shit.

THE NARRATOR: I can believe this one is really happening.

THE NARRATOR: The three of them held their breath - Casey and Libby watched while Sloane went for the lock with only 30 seconds left on the timer… only to drop it.

It was the fumble of the century - the sound of the key falling into the hidden mechanisms of the carousel like a taunt - and as the clock counted down, they knew they only had one choice…

The three of them took off running as hard as they could - their lives depended on it, after all - and though it was a mighty effort, they didn’t make it far enough not to be blown off of their feet. They all land in a pile together; beaten, broken… And absolutely fucked when only minutes later, the Boardwalk Police come running.

They expect for handcuffs to be thrown onto the three of them, but as Dean Hargrove comes running up behind them, he instructs them only to arrest Sloane.

He had known Casey and Libby since they were both kids, after all. They were his son’s best friends. How was he supposed to believe that they had something to do with this over the Salt girl? Libby and Casey try to protest, but it’s no use. Sloane is going with them to the police station, and… that’s that.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU HAVE FAILED YOUR EVENT, BUT AT LEAST YOU FOUND THE FIRST KEY. YOUR FRIEND HAS A CHANCE.

#bio rp #town rp #oc rp #skeleton rp #small town rp #secrets rp #gossip rp #gossip girl rp #90s rp #classic rp #plot event 001.#plot event 001 - the carousel.

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katehuntington · 4 years

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Title: In Bad Waters - part four Word count: ±2800 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part four summary: After Dean takes a girl home, Sam goes to look for the huntress who is keeping the brothers’ belongings hostage. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Music: Shine On You Crazy Diamond - Pink Floyd Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

The nights are mild this November. The moon is almost full and stands high in the dark blue sky. This time it’s not the sun which shines a light on the hundreds of tombstones, neither does the cemetery have a peaceful feel like it did this morning. Trees create long shadows, so black that one would be afraid to walk through its darkness. At this hour the statues of angels and other Biblical figures don’t seem sacred, the figures looming over those who dare to disturb the dead.

Anyone who would walk around the stretched out lands of Linwood Cemetery, would be rather sure the place is deserted. Nevertheless, someone is present. Not a grieving widow or a relative who got left behind, but a person who is, quite literally, digging up some dirt. In a steady rhythm, scoops of soil fly through the air and land on a pile next to a hole in the ground. Down in the grave, Zoë is working like a miner. Even though it’s night, all she’s wearing is a thin Lakers basketball shirt, sweat shimmering on her body as her muscles move under her skin.

For a moment she pauses; she reckons she’s almost there. Out of breath, she listens to her surroundings and scans the area like a periscope of a submarine, popping her head just above ground level. Not a sound, nothing to see, yet she senses something. She can’t really put a finger on it, but glances at the loaded shotgun next to her in the grave nonetheless. She picks up the shovel instead, continuing to dig. Her senses grow stronger and the huntress freezes, picking up the smallest sound. Making a split second decision, Zoë goes for her shotgun, aims on pure gut instinct and fires. The slug demolishes half a gravestone and barely misses the person hiding behind it. “Jesus Christ!” a startled voice cries out. “Friends call me Zoë,” she responds, skillfully discharging the empty shell and reloading her rifle.

She stays low to the ground and focuses on the tombstone from the hole, prepared for a possible counter attack, but nothing comes. “Show yourself,” she commands. A tall figure rises from behind the tombstone, his hands up. “It’s me,” he says. The man steps into the moonlight and Zoë instantly recognizes him. “Sam...” She scoffs, actually not that surprised to see him. “Seriously man, there will come a day that I will kill one of you fucking Winchesters if you keep sneaking up on me like this.”

“How the hell did you even notice me?” Sam questions, disappointed with his own ambushing skills. “Are you kidding me? I can smell you from a mile away after your dive in that septic tank,” she nags. Sam stares at her for a moment and smells himself. “I showered!” he exclaims. Zoë smirks; she can’t believe he actually fell for that. Sam also realizes she is deliberately messing with him and shoots her a deadly glare. “What if I was the night guard?” he tests. “If the night guard enters, I’ll notice it the minute he sets foot in the cemetery.” Zoë puts away her shotgun and picks up the shovel again. Before she continues digging, she looks back up. “What the fuck are you doing here anyway?” Sam approaches the grave. “Looking for you.” “Well, you found me. Now get lost,” the huntress scoffs. “I’m not going anywhere without our stuff, Zo,” Sam states. She stops what she was doing, leaning on the handle of the shovel. “Sure. Just a sec. I’ll just pull your laptop case out of my back pocket and I think I stuffed the two duffel bags in my bra,” she responds, smartly. He glares at her. “Ha-ha.” Zoë continues shoveling dirt, while Sam halts on the edge of the hole in the ground. It’s not the first open grave he has seen, but that’s not what he’s looking at. Zoë has captured his attention, and Sam can’t stop watching. The fabric of her shirt is drenched in sweat, a darker tone between her shoulder blades and down her chest. The moonlight distinguishes hardened arms and shoulders. She might be a lean built woman of no more than 5’8, yet clearly she is well trained. Even though Zoë has been working the soil for some time now, there is no sign of fatigue and every scoop is powerful. Just like that moment in Rochester, yesterday morning, she captivates him in such a way that it seems impossible to keep his eyes off her. When she walked by naked to turn up the radio she meant to get his attention, but apparently this time she feels uncomfortable.

“What do you think this is? BustyAsianBeauties.com?” she remarks, glancing up at the hunter annoyed. “Excuse me?” Sam returns, puzzled. “Don’t get all innocent with me, perv. I happened to stumble on some browser internet history on your laptop, which is full of viruses because of that shit by the way,” she notifies. Sam stares at her staggered, then the light bulb switches on. Rolling his eyes skyward, he huffs. “Dean.” Zoë shrugs, continuing her job at hand. “I don’t really care which of you two can’t get laid enough. Your harddrive was a fucking mess.” “You’ve been on my computer?” It’s not so much a question. The tall Winchester eyes her from under his brown bangs, clearly not happy with her snooping around through his stuff. Zoë has the feeling that this would be a good time to lie, but just to rile him up a bit more, she doesn’t. “I did, actually,” she comments. “Got a problem with that, college boy?” Sam averts his gaze and grinds his teeth, which draws a reaction from Zoë. “Hey, don’t be mad at me. I didn’t fuck up your computer with a dozen porn sites, videos, pi--” “- I’m gonna kill him,” Sam growls. “Oh, don’t wanna miss that.” Zoë turns up the speed, now that she has some extra motivation to hurry up.

The youngest of the Winchester brothers glances down at her again. “So, this is your case?” “I’m not digging up dead people for fun,” she retorts, without pausing. “What’s the story?” Zoë peers at him for a moment, but doesn’t stop with what she’s doing. Not seeing any harm in it, she gives him a brief summary. “Young girl got beat up by her father. One strike killed her.” “Let me guess, what goes around comes around for the dad?” Sam assumes. “Yep. Died yesterday,” she confirms.

Whoa, she’s quick, Sam realizes. It’s not often that he has run a case that fast. “How did you figure it all out in that short period of time?” Sam asks, genuinely interested. “You guys have your methods to pick out cases. I have mine,” Zoë responds curtly. The younger Winchester brother knows better than to continue the interrogation. A silence follows and Sam glances over at the gravestone.

Laura Emily Shire Beloved daughter and sister 01.22.1995 – 09.21.2005 Rest in Peace

“Apparently not,” Sam comments on the last sentence, before he redirects his attention to the huntress. “Need help?” “Do I look like I need help?” she counters. He shakes his head and goes quiet, not daring to contradict her. He should have known Zoë wouldn’t accept a helping hand. So he watches, awkwardly, not sure what to do with his hands. Not for long, though, because three swings later, Zoë hits the coffin.

The sudden difference in sound when the steel shovel collides with the wood draws Sam’s attention. He glances over the edge as Zoë wipes the dirt away. A hardwood beech coffin is exposed once again. Zoë busts the hinges with her shovel and opens the coffin, after which she quickly backs out. It’s one thing to burn just bones, but this little girl is still in the process of decomposition. “Argh… man, that’s bad.” Zoë covers her mouth and nose with her hand and turns at Sam, who hands over her backpack.

Trying not to inhale as she takes out a bag of salt and a small jerry can filled with gasoline, she continues to cover the remains with both. She climbs out of the grave and takes a matchbox out of her pocket. With a smooth strike, Zoë lights a couple of matches and drops them down the hole. Almost immediately the fire spreads out and shines an orange light on their faces as the heat reaches for them. The body burns for a while and when the fire almost dies out, she shovels the dirt back in the hole. Sam wants to help, but she only brought one shovel, so there’s not much he can do.

“How did you find me by the way?” Zoë wonders, as they saunter back to the main gates of Linwood Cemetery twenty minutes later. “I drove by and saw your Harley in the parking lot of the Hampton, asked for you at the desk. They called up to your room, but you didn’t answer. Since your bike was still there, I just figured you were at the cemetery across the street,” he explains. “I could have been having a bite and a drink somewhere,” she suggests. “Could have, yeah,” Sam admits, a small smile on his lips. “Lucky guess, huh?” Zoë grins as they amble through the gate. “More like a coincidence,” he expresses. “Let me tell you one thing, Sam.” Zoë looks over her shoulder, an all knowing grin on her lips. “There’s no such thing as coincidence.”

They halt in front of the Hampton Inn as Zoë shakes off the cold and shrugs on her jacket. Grave digging can be quite intense, but now that she’s not busting her ass, she’s freezing. Before the huntress moves inside, she throws her backpack over her shoulder and turns around at Sam. “What are you doing tonight?” “Not much, actually. Dean has a girl over at the motel,” he sighs. “Ah, I was wondering where the fucker was. Another one, huh? Not a shifter this time?” The huntress winks, remembering the joke she pulled on him. Sam laughs too. “Not this time.” “You didn’t tell him that we don’t know what sex that thing was, right?” Zoë checks. “Nope.” Sam’s eyes sparkle for a moment, in the same way Dean’s eyes do so often. It’s probably a Winchester thing. “I bet he has nightmares about it,” Zoë grins, enjoying the idea, but then turns to Sam as her amused facial expression changes into something more serious. “You have any last night?”

Sam looks her in the eye and the sparkle disappears. He forgot about the fact that he opened up to the huntress about the strange dreams he’s been having and for a second he feels uncomfortable. He’s happy to shake his head. “No, I slept quite well, actually. First time in three weeks,” he returns. “Well, I didn’t.” She yawns and quickly covers her mouth with her hand. “I’m gonna catch some sleep. Night, Sam.”

Zoë intends to stroll inside and leave the hunter at the entrance, but he clears his throat. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Sleepy and confused, Zoë halts and looks at the younger Winchester. “You’re not getting a kiss, if that’s what you’re waiting for.” Sam eyes her. “Our stuff.” “Oh right,” she remembers, entering the Hampton Inn, Sam in tow.

They take the elevator up to the second floor, where the huntress turns left, expecting Sam to follow. The younger Winchester seems impressed with the luxury of the hotel; he’s used to hunters settling for a much cheaper accommodation. As she slips her keycard through the lock, she yawns again.

“That bad, huh?” Sam chuckles. “I haven't had much sleep lately. Too many cases,” she replies and walks directly to the bathroom. “Let me freshen up, one sec.”

One sec turns out to be five minutes, because after that amount of time she walks out of the bathroom, fresh and showered. She’s wearing a Nirvana shirt and pajama shorts, not even bothered to put on a bra, even though she has company. She’s going to turn in for bed soon anyway, the aftermath of her high this morning seriously kicking in. She carelessly beckons at Sam, pointing at the other end of the room. “You can find your shit in the closet.”

Sam crosses the space and opens the double doors. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees the duffel bags, but he can’t spot his laptop. “It’s on the table, still hooked up to the server,” she answers before he can ask. He walks over and notices the USB cable. “Why is it hooked up?” “Don’t get all emotional about it, but I’m copying my supernatural database to yours,” she tells him. “Since you guys are still going on what’s in that old book.” Sam’s eyebrows perk up, surprised. She actually did that, something nice without him asking? Maybe she’s not so bad as his brother would have him believe after all. “Thanks,” he expresses.

She looks aside, able to tell that his gratitude is sincere. Touching the mouse pad, she triggers the screen to light up; it’s still copying. To pass the time she opens ITunes, starts one of her favorite playlists and the first tunes of Shine On You Crazy Diamond by Pink Floyd come from the speakers. “Don’t mention it, but I'll tell you what.” She straightens her back and walks over to her bed. “It’s still transferring files, which might take another hour or so. If you don’t have a place to stay anyway, why don’t you hang out here? You can crash on the sofa if you want.”

Another unexpected act of kindness; she just invited him in. Not that she would want anything from him, though, or does she? For a second the Winchester wonders why she’s so interested in him all of a sudden. She’s being nice, and that’s just off. “Sure, if you don’t mind,” Sam accepts, masking his suspicion. “As long as you shut your piehole, I don’t mind. I really need to sleep,” she clears up as she crawls into bed and pulls the covers up till her nose. “Remote is on the TV if you want to watch anything, as long as it isn’t porn,” she mumbles, fitting her eye mask over her face. “Thanks, I’m good,” he assures, sitting down behind the table and glancing at the screen. He watches the bar move slowly, the percentage going up with each passing minute. “Hey Zo, is it alright if I--” But he doesn’t finish his sentence. Zoë is already far away, curled up in fetus-position, wrapped in her covers. She seems so peaceful and vulnerable, so unlike the Zoë Sullivan he got to know these past couple of days. He smiles at the endearing sight. She’s quite a peculiar woman.

It only takes a moment, though, before guilt settles on his chest and memories cloud his mind. Because every time when he thinks of Zoë, his thoughts wander off to Jessica as well. As if a voice in the back of his mind is mocking him for taking an interest in the new huntress. That it’s ‘not done’ since he’s in a relationship. But he isn’t. Jess is gone forever.

Sam swallows apprehensively and glances at his laptop again. He sees images transferring, of ghouls and werewolves, wendigos and demons. Honestly, he can’t wait to get his hands on that thing that killed his former girlfriend and his mom. Never has he felt the urge to kill something so strongly, never has he felt so much anger and hatred towards anything. Of course, he has ended the lives of creatures and burned the bones of the souls that stayed behind, but never out of hate. He did those things for opposite reasons; to save people and help spirits to move on.

The frustrating part about his attempt to find the creature that was responsible for the death of his loved ones? He has no idea where to start. Their dad has disappeared from the face of the earth and he and his brother have no leads whatsoever. They need to get back on the road, find their father and make progress fast, before that thing disappears off the radar again. Sam is going to make sure that he and Dean leave this town tomorrow first thing in the morning.

When the time comes, when they finally find their father, the next step is making the bastard pay that murdered Mom and Jess. That thought right there is what drives him, disturbing yet thrilling, but that’s what everyone is after. The death of that monster, the ultimate revenge.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part five here

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Supernatural series #Dean Winchester x OFC #Sam Winchester x OFC #supernatural rewrite #Supernatural fanfiction #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #SPN fanfiction #SPN #Supernatural #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Zoë Sullivan STSS #In Bad Waters #1x02 In Bad Waters #Kate Huntington

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merife · 4 years

Text

— mayday

pairing: Jotaro Kujo x Reader

summary: it’s like the start of the rain — little drops will bring only cloudburst.

word count: 3906

notes: so, before this chapter i wanted to share some thoughts about stands, that i will use in work. since the stands represent the human soul, this means that it is they who first fulfill the will of the human subconscious, and only then the consciousness. that is, if a person with a stand pushes away their loved ones, but does so because of an unconscious desire for protection, their stand will primarily protect, not repel. likewise, the stand of someone who wants to escape, but needs help, will look for this very help, even if the user does not realize it.if you see some mistakes, please, message me!

previous // next

01. of bittersweet greetings

"…Right," Noriaki releases your hand, "it would be extremely inconvenient if we didn’t introduce ourselves again," and waves his hand to the other passengers of the unlucky plane, as if offering to silently join them. Recently brought ashore, all of them are probably unhappy with the crash and the loss of their luggage. You would share this dissatisfaction if you had a suitcase full of things and didn’t know about what was really happening on the plane. However, you were still felt bad about your soaked backpack. It's unlikely that the book lying there will recover from such a flight.

Kakyoin opposite you — a tall guy, probably the same age as you and with strange earrings in his ears — looks like a nice young man and you hope that this opinion is not deceptive. Some can call it gullibility, but you believed the first glance into someone else's eyes — often unconsciously, it showed people unprepared, and therefore in their true form. Still, no first glance will show the changes that the person will be subjected to. Which you may not notice over time.

"What are you doing here," displeased, without a hint of a question, which causes only one reaction: rolling your eyes, you click your tongue —accidentally louder than you wanted. Oh yes, of course. The world around is just beginning to recover, however fate doesn’t allow it to do recovery to the end and decides to take everything into its own hands, returning to place completely the wrong pieces of the puzzle.

"The same question I can ask you," some ease of sudden familiarity, previously present in conversation with Kakyoin dissolves, and you gather your hands in the lock on your chest to then transfer gaze to the approaching man, "Jotaro".

He stands in his usual position: slightly hunched over from his height, hands buried deep in pockets and peering you with his heavy gaze from under the peak of his cap, as he has done a thousand times before, which makes your reaction lack the fright or tension that you might have experienced earlier. Now it looks like a kind of challenge that you unconsciously accept and raise your chin higher, without looking away. See him on the plane to Bangkok was unexpected. See his stand (you freeze between a row of seats and your fingers dig into the back of one of the fronts, until a few meters away, next to Jotaro — what he forgot here at all? — Kujo materializes a humanoid spirit, immediately attacking a flying insect. Since when does this delinquent even have a stand?) it was unexpected. But to see it in the usual state of "out of reach" for ordinary mortals is like returning from a dream to reality: a little unpleasant, but familiar.

"Don't turn this on me, woman," and that's his constant "woman". You are the same age and such a statement sounds at least strange, if not rude.

"Oh God," you shake your head, "our plane just crashed and the only thing you care about is why am I here?" his mouth twists into a grimace of displeasure. It's as if your very existence irritates him, even though you're the only one who has a reason to be angry with him.

"I'm still waiting-

"Excuse me," Kakyoin intervenes in the conversation and — honestly? — it makes it a little easier. There's a look of perplexity on his face that makes you raise an eyebrow in a silent question,"I didn't want to interrupt, but… Do you know each other?"

"Yes," on your lips pops up smile, yet nothing fun in it, while Jotaro utters his favourite phrase on exhale, "we are classmates," despite years communication and years ignoring each other, this the only word that you can use to describe your relationships now.

"Indeed, a striking coincidence," bewilderment is immediately replaced by a kind of calmness with a share of ... joy? Relief? Kakyoin puts his fingers on his chin, as if thinking about something, "to meet your classmate stand-user on a plane to another country, when you are being chased by the enemy".

Enemy? So, this scarab beetle and the old man...?

"Guys," you raise your own hands, indicating that you're not going to do them any harm. Now the picture of what is happening looks a little clearer. Jotaro actually had a reason to ask why you were here — though, it would have been easier for everyone if he had explained it, instead of immediately getting defensive and demanding answers, "I went to my relatives, they live here. And that scarab-

"Y/n!"

"I saw for the first time," the continuation of the sentence is drowned in an unfamiliar thunderous voice — this is a stranger, an elderly man, whom you previously saw in the passenger compartment. He doesn't look aggressive, rather the opposite — as if full of enthusiasm, he takes a few long steps to cover the distance between you and immediately wraps you in a — oh, no, no-no-hug.

"God, how you have grown," the smell of salt water is sharp in your nose. His titanic grip cannot be released immediately, but you don’t give up — you trying to get out and starting to bend your legs, but he probably thinks that you just… Went limp from his actions? Because man starts to hug you a little stronger, "I almost don’t recognize you as that little girl who was always carrying a kite on her back. I'm so glad to see you!" his hands moves from your back to shoulders, and you can see his face again. There is something familiar about him: the general feeling that you have already seen him once is present, but where? — you can’t find the answer. Probably, in a childhood. A very early childhood. And apparently, he catches your embarrassment, because immediately — a little pretentiously, as if childish — the glee in his eyes replace itself on a slight sadness, "you don't remember me? I'm grandfather Jotaro, Joseph," you unconsciously turn your gaze to Kujo — he just snorts and turns his head away. Even if you remembered, the image of Joseph in your head would be different from what you see now. It was too long ago for unconscious attempts to restore memories to actually work. Therefore, a guilty smile appears on your lips. However, it doesn't make the right impression and Joseph only grabs your shoulders harder.

"Jiji, leave her alone, she's here on her own business," the man's attention doesn’t go to the grandson. He still looks at you, as if not noticing the words of Jotaro. "We'll make up for it. Y/n come and have lunch with us," unfamiliar hands disappear, and you are free. Physically. "No, no, Joseph, I have- "Come on, I'm buying." "No, I really can't." "Let's go!"

"Come on, let’s go," Oisin grabs your wrists, presses them to the glass table and looks into your eyes with hope but you just sigh, "it's not a good thing to miss your first party at the university just because you're too lazy".

The end of August in America pleased with good weather. Or rather, too good: thermometer hasn't dropped below twenty-fife degrees by Celsius since you moved to Miami, and you were, in some way, glad that you spent the past year in Sperlonga at grandma Oria's farm, where was almost as hot as here. The climate didn't take much getting used to, so there was only the time zone, which was a bit of a problem. There was no need to go to classes at eight o'clock and adhere to special discipline in past year when you learned on a home-school, so now it was a little difficult to get back into life with a schedule. Especially in such crowded city. But — remember: you picked the hard way to recover. You don’t have a luxury to tremble over every unfamiliar voice, you can’t freeze like a statue every time when you don't know how to get out of a situation. There is no enemy stand-users, these people don’t want to attack you just because you helping someone important. It's already ordinary life that you craved, don’t seek something distinctive in it.

In a time like these you envied Oisin because he definitely doesn’t have such problems. Even though he had arrived only a week earlier, the guy had already made friends with half of the campus, as if he had lived here before and simply introduced himself again. And his energy overwhelmed you even now, like he wasn’t on different continent just ten days earlier and jetlag was created only for you. Yes... this guy exact opposite of Jotaro.

"I don't know, Oisin," you pull up your previously extended legs and Weaver releases your wrists, like he offended by the seemingly expected response, "I still don't feel very well after the flight, plus yesterday-

"You'll get some rest," Oisin said assuredly. Damn his insistence. You sigh. Long. Plangent. With the hope that in this sigh, the guy will find the answer he is looking for, but he just keeps watching you. Getting out to others is not a bad idea, but… In your head, you're still looking for a reason why you might not go, putting aside crippling on your shoulder paranoia that was like a part of you now. Yes ... it's a pity that your mother won't forbid you to go somewhere anymore. And apparently, something in the long silence created in the conversation still responds to Oisin, "okay, miss recluse," Weaver's head tilts a little to the side, and then turns and shifts all his attention to — the menu? He just ate a burger five minutes ago, why else would he, "it's seven o'clock now" brown hair turns back. Ah, he looked at watch, "I have things to do now, but" guy holds up his index finger in front of you, as if rejecting any comment beforehand,"but! I'll pick you up at nine and then you can give me your final answer. Alright?"

God, it's like he's calling you to some sort of ball that you definitely can't miss.

You look down at the empty plate, where the salt pellets from the fries are still visible. It's better than answering now.

"And I still hope you'll go," Oisin carefully takes one of your hands in his — not so dramatically as before, much softer, making you look up at him, "Y/n, I really think it will be good for you," an aura of care seems to emanate from him and you feel... Awkward. Inconvenient. You wish he hadn't said that, because now it's like trying to walk a scared puppy, "and I hope you understand that" Young man doesn't wait for an answer: he lets you go, grabs his wallet and throws it into blue backpack. Oisin stands up, adjusts his t-shirt hastily, and comes over to you, giving you a hasty one-way hug.

"I left. Don't stay too long," he says. Just a few moments and you can already see his silhouette behind the glass of the diner.

Oisin… Peculiar, if you may say so. If you met him now, you would definitely not communicate with guy for one reason — he’s too loud. Oisin's energy went beyond his body and infected everyone around him, so you couldn't even really disconnect yourself from Weaver sometimes and for you — for the version of you that just sat in grandma Oria's garden without thoughts or emotions and stared at the sun, burning your own cornea — he was the perfect candidate for communication. You didn't have to be the guide; you could finally be guided and not be afraid that some extra movement would lead to something dangerous. Oisin in Italy saved you from the haunting ghosts of the past, and sometimes — when every movement, every word, reminded you of them — it was Weaver's hand that stroked your back, his voice in your ear. Oisin was loud, but his volume helped you not get lost in the silence created after Egypt completely. That's probably why, when he said that there was a course options in his university that you were interested in, you didn't have to choose where you would continue your education.

Some hoarse broken cry and the hum of falling iron tray— this brought you back to reality. The smell of beer spilled on the floor immediately hits your nose and unconsciously the name of your own stand passes through your head as you let go of the straw from the milkshake and sprang on your legs. Two tables away from yours is a middle-aged woman with a small group of people gathered around her: probably the man she came with, the waiter (who dropped the tray?) and a couple of strangers like you, who are interested in what happened and decided to help. She seems to be breathing, but she’sdo it with difficulty,though her skin looks healthy. You probably need to take medicine a little more seriously in future.

"What happened?" the startled waiter turns to you as a figure runs to the phone somewhere behind the counter. He doesn't have any reason to tell you, but with a stand that can heal, you can actually help. Not that the guy across knows that.

"I-I don’t know,"he squeezes the tray down to his white from inner tension knuckles, and you call White Queen again, but this time in your mind. Where is she? "carried them an order and… Oh, my God, am I going to jail? I can't go to jail, not now," great, you have also a panicked waiter.

"Calm down," you put your hand on his forearm, try to look into the tear-stained eyes, "it's hardly your fault" and then turn your attention back to the woman, covering the lower part of your face so that the Queen’s name will slip from your lips as imperceptibly as possible. Why isn't she here yet? What's happening?

"The ambulance will be here in a couple of minutes," the appropriate man pushes you and the waiter aside a little and sits on his knees in front of the victim. Her pulse must have been checked earlier, because right now he’s just shifting her head to the side.

"White Queen!" you say it again already loudly, but the words are mixed with the speech of a man, so now it’s sounds like porridge, because of which a couple of people look at you.You just cough into your fist.

Your stand appears exactly three seconds later.

You have to sit at the bar to avoid drawing attention to yourself, but the tall figure of White Queen doesn't hesitate to approach the woman to materializing a pike in left hand and then stab unfamiliar leg where it will not be noticed by onlookers. And you wait for a small green glow to appear on the marble pike, but ... Nothing happens. Capable of healing physical wounds, White Queen's spear remains in the woman's leg and doesn't change anything in her. When Queen turns to you with a puzzled expression on her stony face, you just respond with a nod of your head and a shrug of your shoulders, a little disappointed, guilty — you don't have an answer. It's probably something you can't control: an old illness, food stuck in woman's throat, or something else you don't know about yet. Stand takes the pike from the poor woman's leg — and the wound, which for a moment only the keenest eye can see, is immediately closed. And you pick up your things from the table and leave the place, hearing the ambulance siren, left with not the most pleasant feeling in your heart.

"Where the hell have you been?" White Queen is walking beside you: you can hear her marble feet making a hollow sound when they touch the pavement, like human footsteps. She's trying too hard to be alive. Yes, you rarely call her. Yes, you do everything yourself, if you can, and when you get hurt, you put iodine on the cuts, waiting for them to heal, but when someone else's life is in danger, you simply can't leave everything as it is. Because your problems are your own and have nothing to do with saving strangers.

The only response is silence. Sure.

"I thought I made it clear that you weren't to show up if something happened to me. But, for some reason, you still do it, and when I really need your help, then no, Queen is not here, of course not," you wave your hand in displeasure in her direction and she, like a scolded puppy, lowers her head lower, "let's just agree: you go out only when I call you. Neither sooner nor later," you turn to her and wait for some hint of response — a nod of the head or a change of expression, but White Queen just turns to some person — why is this guy looking at you? — then he returns his gaze to you and disappears into the air.

Even better. It would be great if he thought you were just being weird and talking to yourself. And without waiting for the situation to change, you turn toward the campus.

"Miss Y/n?" no good conversation starts with 'miss', but you can't ignore a stranger — you've seen him, he's seen you — he's seen you've seen him-God, that sounds stupid. And you hear: the third, fourth step and the guy is already next to you, "I'm glad that I met you here. I'm from a mutual friend of ours," he emphasizes the last words with a lowered intonation of his voice. Oisin, did you really get to know all of Miami in a week?

"You missed him five minutes ago," you start walking again. You don't think this dialogue will last too long, "Oisin is busy, so I don't think he can help you-

"No, you misunderstand me," the stranger again catches up with you, "from another mutual friend".

And this is like the result of an undone breath before jumping into the water.

"I have no other friends," the phrase stabs, cuts, but also defends, protects, "so I advise you not to believe those who deceive you," all through your teeth. You — this version of you— don't have any friends for a good reason and you have the right to keep it secret in your ribs, trusting no one [as if you never lie to yourself — as the marks on the path you have passed are not able to tell anyone that you can't be alone anymore].

"I don't think Joseph will agree with you."

You don't feel someone else's hand on your elbow. You don't feel it, you don't feel how White Queen reappear in space, and you certainly don't feel your fingernails pressing into your palms again. But you know how your heart can get caught between your ribs in aching pain. The image of Joestar doesn't appear as a memory in your head like a Kakyoin, but it makes you freeze in place like a phantom. How did they find you? Sure, you weren't hiding, but... You haven't written to Jotaro, much less to his grandfather, where you are. The last time you saw Joestar at the airport, his embrace was tight, but you didn't return it properly, because even then the tremor in your hands couldn't be stopped. At the Tokyo airport, you disintegrated into parts of your own personality, one of which screamed so loudly that it had to be locked somewhere inside, and the other — unprotected, like a stray kitten, knowing nothing more than the silence around you, made only attempts to find a corner where you can hide and not come out until it's too late. There were no more tears; they were replaced by a lifeless emptiness, reflected in an instant in the eyes of Jotaro and you wanted to divide it with the two of you, so that it was at least a little easier to cope and the burden of an endless nightmare ceased to be such, but... You missed moment where it could be true by letting go of the sleeve of his uniform and disappearing like a White Queen.

"Listen, miss Y/n. Here occur- "I don't care what happens here," the moment of your own weakness leaves you and your rage falls like a bucket of water. Queen creates a spear in the air, "I don't want to have anything to do with either the Joestar or the stands," the stranger looks a little scared — apparently, the guy didn't expect such a reaction. But what did he expect from you then? From a woman who had been out of touch for just over a year, whose parents refused to even talk to the Speedwagon Foundation.

"Wait, Y/- "My stand is not as strong as the others," you take a step toward him. His time to speak has passed, "but surely you know that even Queen can inflict injuries, if you are from our mutual friend," barely recovering calm you are not ready to sell for another adventure, now given only to you, "do you have a problem? Discuss this with Polnareff or Joestars themselves," another step to stranger, until he same moves away from you, "damn, make new stand users, as this did Enya, but don't," and another, "involve me" and as confirmation of seriousness of your intentions White Queen's pike pierces palm of the guy, respiration the freezes and slightly whether not screams, however your hand closes his mouth. In a few seconds, the pain will change to warmth, the hole he sees in his palm will disappear and you will no longer be here. However, apparently unable to see the pike created by stand, he tries to close the wound, stumbling into an invisible obstacle, "the palm will heal and I hope that we will never see each other again".

You have time to make three steps before the guy starts talking again.

He says: Y/n. He says through pained chokes: remember — stand users are attracted to each other.

You return home with a heavy heart and a reminder that you shouldn't forget to close the front door.

What kind of statement is that? Attracted. You are not magnets with different poles to break everything and find each other. Moreover, during your stay in Italy, you met only a couple of users, and it is unlikely that they knew about you. The trip was different, but ... Damn, why does it keep coming up? Perhaps you should have stayed in Sperlonga and gone to some university near this village, instead of chasing a dream and getting out of a hastily created cocoon [unless, of course, you yourself wanted to return to this world with dangers, in which, indeed, life was brighter and every day was different].

Notes from an unfamiliar song hit your ears with their sharpness, and you immediately tweak the relay a little to lower the volume. Yeah. What were you talking about?.. Fine. Now you can take the time to sort things out, and then wait for Oisin. Still, maybe he's right.

#jjba #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro x reader #jojo imagines

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mrslittletall · 4 years

Text

Title: The Crazy Cat Vicar (Chapter 6) Fandom: Bloodborne Characters: Laurence the first Vicar, Gehrman the First Hunter/Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower Word Count: 2.440 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20989841/chapters/56201227 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/190664879069/title-the-crazy-cat-vicar-chapter-5

Summary: Laurence has found another cat and his first instinct is to show it to Gehrman, because it looks exactly like him.

(Author's note: It has been a while and I have to apologize. I haven't been very inspired for this story at all and then had to fix my Bloodborne timeline because it contradicted canon. But now, I am back and this one was a BLAST to write. It is certainly more on the comedic site and I hope that I manage to make you laugh a few times ^^)

“Gehrman, look, I found a cat that looks exactly like you!”

Laurence was standing in the door that led to the Hunter's Workshop, presenting a brown, gruff looking cat to Gehrman, who stood there with the door handle still in hand and then said:

“Really, Laurence, that is what you have come here for? Normally when you come here you ask me if you can use the bathroom.”

“Isn't he just wonderful?”, Laurence said, stepping in, slumping the cat over his shoulder which buried his claws in his skin which made him wince a bit. “I have fed him for a while already and he finally has let himself picked up and... hey, I don't only come here to use the bathroom!”

“Seven out of ten times, Laurence.”, Gehrman said and chuckled. The Vicar had the habit to drink too much, alcohol or not, and it had became a common occasion for him to stop at the workshop for a bathroom break before going back to the church.

“Five out of ten.”, Laurence countered, “I also often come here just to spend time with you. And Maria.”

“Speaking of... Maria, would you say that Laurence comes here all the time just to use our bathroom?”, Gehrman called and Maria came trotting down the stairs, laying a hand around Gehrman's shoulder and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Seven out of ten times.”, Maria chuckled. “Hey, Laurence, you got a new cat?”

“Who needs foes with friends like you?”, Laurence complained as he walked towards the stairs that led into the workshop. “And yes, that is a new cat. He looks just like Gehrman, don't you think? I am going to call him Gary.” Laurence removed the cat from his shoulder and presented him to Maria.

“They surely both have this serious look in their eyes.”, Maria said. “And the fur colour is the same colour as Gehrman's hair, though, his already starts to grey out a bit.”

“Already? You aren't even thirty.”, Laurence said, looking back at Gehrman who lagged a bit behind. It was because of his peg leg. Unfortunately he had lost it in a hunt before Laurence had come up with the blood vials and every help to save the leg had come too late. It didn't stop Gehrman to still be a top tier hunter, though most of the time in private Gehrman preferred to use a wheelchair, it was easier for his leg. According to Maria he still had nightmares about the incident as well as phantom pains.

“Not everybody can have a head full of crimson like you.”, Gehrman scoffed.

“It's auburn, Gehrman.”, Laurence frowned. He hated it when people called him a redhead, finding his hair to be a mixture of brown and red and auburn was the perfect word for it, why did everyone insist on called him a redhead?

“You know, the more you are getting annoyed by his teasing, the more he will do it.”, Maria said and Laurence sighed:

“I know...”

The trio reached the interior workshop and Laurence put Gary down. He stretched and yawned and then started to clean himself and now that the cat wasn't cradled in Laurence' arms anymore, a certain detail got revealed. The right hind leg of the cat was missing, only a stump remained.

“Laurence...”, Gehrman said in a threatening voice and Maria hardly was able to contain her laughter as she saw Laurence' face splitting in a grin. “You didn't happen to only come here to show me the cat because of the glaring fact, that it is missing a leg at the exact same spot as me...?”

Laurence' eyes lit up and he turned to Gehrman: “Isn't it GREAT? I thought the cat looked like you already and then it really is a male and it has the same colour as your hair and then it even misses a leg just like you. And that was too good to be a coincidence so I had to call him Gary right away!”

After his rant was over Maria couldn't contain her laughter anymore, the both of them were too cute. Gehrman acting all upset and hurt and Laurence being so delighted about having found a cat that just looked like him. In fact, the more she looked at Gary, the more she saw the similarities between them.

“He's right, Gehrman.”, she said. “The cat kind of looks like you.”

“Maria, not you too.”, Gehrman complained and then turned to Laurence: “I think I can't let you use my bathroom anymore.”

Laurence gasped and put both hands over his mouth: “You wouldn't!”

“No, of course not, but would you stop making fun about me?!”

“I am going to get us some tea.”, Maria said as the playful fight between the boys, hm, actually they were grown man, but they were acting like teenagers, continued.

When Maria came back it was obvious that Gehrman had pushed one of Laurence' berserk buttons by calling him Lawrence, because the latter was in the process on his rant just how different the names were and that the pronunciation was very different regarding to the spelling and she couldn't say if Gehrman was bored or tried to contain his laughter.

“Guys, I made some tea!”, she said, putting three cups on the table and poured it in. “Drop your silly argument and come here.”

“It wasn't silly.”, Laurence complained but came over nonetheless.

“It was. You are ridiculous and you know it.”, Gehrman said, earning a stare of Laurence who already opened his mouth.

“Guys.”, Maria said another time, while putting a bowl with milk down for the cat who had still cleaned himself during the whole argument. That shut Laurence up and also, his gaze wandered to the cat again and Maria could tell that he was enchanted by its cuteness as it licked the milk, getting a bit on its nose and licking it off.

“He's adorable.”, Laurence said, pretty much drinking half of his tea off the reel, despite it being still hot. The Vicar just didn't seem to mind hot beverages at all.

“How do you do this, Laurence?”, Gehrman asked, who was busy putting milk and sugar in his tea. Maria took a little bit of sugar herself. Laurence, like usual, would just drink it plain.

“Drinking tea?”, Laurence asked, eyes still on Gary.

“No, drinking scalding hot tea without burning yourself.”, Gehrman sighed.

“What? This is hardly hot.”, Laurence finished off the cup and poured himself another one.

“That's it, your taste buds have died long ago and that is why you always put so much salt at your food.”, Gehrman scoffed, earning a glare of Laurence.

“Enough, guys.”, Maria said with a certain danger in her voice, making them drop the argument instantly.

“So.”, Maria said after she had taken the first sip of her tea, “Where have you picked the cat up, Laurence?”

“He's called Gary.”, Laurence said. “Near to the sewers. I think he hunted there. Often found him dissecting a prey. He still liked my treats more. I guess they taste better. And are easier to obtain.”

“Yes, because all a cat needs to do for you to feed them is existing within your sight.”, Gehrman said, after drinking from tea that was far too sweet for Laurence' tastes.

“What's wrong with liking cats?”, Laurence looked down at his cup, wishing a bit that he had a spoon to swirl the liquid around. Because Maria knew that he never put sugar or milk in, she hadn't give him one. He settled on sipping on the cup instead.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with it.”, Maria said, trying to avoid another argument. Gary had finished the milk in the meantime and turned around, coming to inspect the table. Despite him having only three legs, he walked fast and clear, just a slight limp was to see. And once he was at the table, he jumped up and landed on Gehrman's lap, who nearly knocked his tea over.

“See, Gary likes you already.”, Laurence grinned, finishing his second cup and pouring himself a third one. “You are similar and he knows it.”

“While I want to disagree, he is warm and soft.”, Gehrman said. “And I like the thought of being warm and soft.”

“Maria should be the one who can vouch for this.”, Laurence still grinned.

“When we read together cuddled in bed, he certainly is warm and soft.”, Maria said. “Unless we are getting in the mood, then...”

“Maria!”, Gehrman shouted, but Laurence already broke into a fit of giggles, having gotten Maria's implications.

“So you are still very much in love, you two.”, he concluded and guided the cup to his lips again. How Laurence was able to drink so much tea in such a short time was going completely over Maria's mind, her first cup was only halfway empty.

“Yes, you could say this.”, she smiled at him.

“What about you, Laurence?”, Gehrman asked. “Don't you want to take a partner? There are surely quite a few women who are willing to marry you. You are the Vicar, you have the Healing Blood and you are handsome.”, Gehrman stroked Gary who purred on his lap and looked into Laurence' eyes.

“Oh, you are flattering me.”, Laurence said, putting his almost empty cup down. “But no, I don't intend to take a partner or even marry. I have the cats, that is enough for me.”

“Really?”, Maria's eyes glinted. “And it hasn't to do with the fact that I hear a lot of young women around the town boasting they have shared their bed with the Vicar?”

Laurence, who had taken his cup up again to finish it off nearly choked on the contents and Gehrman shot up, cursing when Gary loudly meowed and pound his claws in his leg, trying to remove the cat gently. It was Maria who helped Laurence to cough it out.

Once his lungs weren't filled with tea anymore, Laurence croaked: “It's none of your business in which beds I decide to spend the nights. I have go to all these super boring noble parties. Let me have some fun with it.”

“I mean, as long as you are responsible about it when something happens.”, Gehrman said, having sat down, Gary trotting away from the table with a face of betrayal.

“I am infertile, remember?”, Laurence just said, already pouring himself a fourth cup.

“Good, because we don't need more of you around.”, Gehrman laughed and before Maria could say anything, the argument between them had broken out again. She used the opportunity to get the tea can away from Laurence at least, he must have drank half of the can single-handedly.

A while later they calmed down, mostly because Laurence was scanning the room. “Hey, where's Gary?”, he asked.

“No clue.”, Gehrman said and Maria shrugged her shoulders.

“He will be fine, there is nowhere he can wander far off here.”, she said. “Maybe he is on the flower meadow. Or climbed the tree.”

“Hm, I hope so. I don't want him to get hurt.”, Laurence said.

“And if, you can just heal him with a blood vial.”, Gehrman said.

“These are for humans, not for cats.”, Laurence said. “You know as well as I that the blood has an intoxicant effect on the mind, I really don't want to give it to a cat.”

“I am glad to inform you that he is fine then.”, Maria chimed in. “It seems that Gary just has gotten hungry.”

Both the eyes of Laurence and Gehrman followed Maria's and settled on Gary, who had caught a rather fat mouse and was now in the process of devouring it.

“The cat is really like you.”, Laurence said. “It's also a hunter.”

“I then have to accept my seldom defeat.”, Gehrman groaned. “Yes, the cat looks like me and is similar to me. Are you happy?”

“Yes.”, Laurence grinned.

The three of them chatted for a while longer until Laurence stood up and stated that he needed to head back to the church now. He went over to pick Gary up, but then turned around, an uncomfortable look in his face.

“...Gehrman... can I use your bathroom before I go?”

“By the great ones, Laurence, just go.”, Gehrman half scolded and half laughed at Laurence and took Gary while the Vicar hurried off.

“I am not surprised, after all the tea he had.”, Maria said, coming closer to Gehrman and scratching Gary behind the ears. “I just hope he will get along with Mick and Mary. Especially with Mary.”

“For me, it will be enough if he gets along with Mary.”, Gehrman said and the both of them were soon locked in a passionate kiss.

“What are you doing?”, Laurence' voice came. “Make out when I am not around, have some decency. At least wait until I am gone.”

Both Gehrman and Maria stared at him. “And that is coming from you.”, Gehrman said as he handed Gary to Laurence.

“Whatever.”, Laurence said, his face lighting up once the brown cat settled in his arms. “It was fun today, we'll see each other Sunday.”

Laurence waved with the hand that wasn't occupied cradling the cat and soon the workshop was silent once again.

“How about we continue what we have started?”, Gehrman said as he caressed Maria's face.

“With pleasure.”, Maria said, leaning in his embrace.

Outside of the workshop, Laurence stood there for a while, just stroking Gary, wanting him to relax into sleep before he brought him to the church when a hunter with long black hair approached the workshop.

“I wouldn't go in there when I am you.”, he said and made a suggestive gesture.

The Hunter stared at him with big eyes before saying: “So they are in the process of...”

“Mhm.”, Laurence just nodded. “Better come back later.” Gary finally had fallen asleep so Laurence gave the hunter a nod before he turned around to leave.

While he was on the way back to the church, the unknown hunter wouldn't leave his mind. Laurence found him to be really, really cute. He certainly was hoping to see him again in the future. (Author's note: I hadn't planned for Gehrmaria in this fic, but then I saw a tumblr post where someone cried so hard they got a nosebleed because they shipped Gehrmaria and got harassed about it and GUESS what? Gehrman and Maria are a thing in my fic now and there is nothing you can change about that!) Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/616653950516641792/title-the-crazy-cat-vicar-chapter-7

#bloodborne #fanfiction #laurence the first vicar #gehrman the first hunter #lady maria of the astral clocktower #gehrmaria #littlewritesstuff #yes i added Gehrmaria out of SPITE #but I think they are a genuinely cute ship and if you have problems with that!#come in my askbox!#OFF ANON!

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snowy-equinox · 4 years

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Asking Others About Sign Confirmation

Look, I get it. Trying to figure out if you got a sign from a deity can be difficult, especially since the advice given to help you figure it out usually falls in one of two camps. Either you “just know” or it’s such a rare and amazing coincidence it just HAS to be. But those guidelines are vague, and sometimes the line between “amazing coincidence” and “not-amazing coincidence” is blurry. Example - I recently had a reading with Apollo about His prolonged absence in my life right now. His reasons are mainly to help me to grow and expand my ability to take care of myself, as well as to build a support network with other deities besides Him. As I did this reading, a flicker (species of woodpecker) flew to the tree outside my window. It stayed for just long enough for me to see it. Flickers are common around here. Just go behind my dorm and you’ll see a few hopping around. But I have never seen one outside my window before. So it’s....Kinda a big coincidence (especially since flickers stand for growth), but how do you know? I personally thought about it for a while, but some people might rush to the pagans they look up to. And this is totally fine, but it can be a bit unreliable at times.

Sign Standards

Before we can ask ourselves if something is or isn’t a sign, we have to determine if it could be a sign. Seems a bit of an obvious baby step, but hear me out.

You see, the threshold for “Could that be a sign?” is a spectrum, with the extreme of “Everything is a sign!” (An exhausting answer that might be the subject of a future post) and “Nothing is a sign!” (usually rare in pagan & witch circles).

Everyone has a different area that they fall into on the spectrum. Let me explain by using @rosegoldtunic and I.

Aela gets a lot of asks about whether something is a sign of a deity calling out, and they’re pretty positive and upbeat in their answers. Many a time I have seen them say “Yes, that is totally a sign!” While I read the ask and think “Um, it doesn’t really seem like one.”

And this is perfectly okay; ultimately, it’s harmless (a point I will expand on later). But the thing is, understanding that people have different sign standards is very important when you’re asking for their opinions.

I personally believe that the gods tailor the severity / intensity of our signs. I mean, They’re not stupid. They know I can be a lot skeptical, so They’d send me a flashier sign than someone who thinks everything they see is a sign. With that in mind, that means signs sent your way are meant for YOU.

And this gets us into the problem I will now describe using the Milkshake Analogy.

Milkshake Analogy

Let’s say instead of signs, deities gave us milkshakes (such a yummier existence we would lead). And let’s say you are a person who likes milkshakes mixed from chocolate and vanilla ice cream.

Now one day, something happens and the milkshake doesn’t come out right. Let’s say the deity put too much chocolate in. You take a sip, and you aren’t sure if it’s good.

So you go to Aela, who loves chocolate milkshakes*, and they say the milkshake is super delicious! But if you give it to me, someone who prefers vanilla, I’d say it’s eh.

Just like with signs: One person might tell you it’s OBVIOUS, while the other might suggest you wait for something else to happen, all because the milkshake is really only meant to be drank by you.

But It’s Hard Figuring It Out on My Own

I know, I know!! Trust me, I wish I could just know and answer these questions with a snap of my fingers. But there’s a few reasons why I can’t.

I don’t know your normal.

Let’s say I live on a campus where the squirrels aren’t afraid of people. They come right up to you and beg for food. Meanwhile, you live in an area where the squirrels are still wild. One day, a squirrel gets really close to you. Like, really close. You jump into my inbox, asking if it’s a sign. Not knowing it’s not normal for you, I assume it is, because that’s my normal.

The other issue with this is that there is the fun little concept of “if you want to see a yellow car, you see a yellow car”. Basically, if you’re looking for a sign, you’ll find it whether it’s true or not. If you live in the city and you ask for a sign and suddenly see a ton of pigeons, I’m going to tell you it’s not a sign because you probably just tuned them out until you were actively looking for a sign, which caused you to be more observant of your surroundings. How am I to know pigeons are actually rare in your city because of the surplus of hawks you have?

I can’t feel what you feel.

Ah, the gut feeling. As someone whose gut easily turns with anxiety, it can be hard for me to determine if something’s a sign, because my stomach is full of that “what if it’s not and I’m just stupid” vibes, meaning I can’t properly feel it.

So trust me, I get how aggravating that “you’ll just feel it and know it’s a sign” advice is. But I want to point out that I can’t feel your gut feelings either! So if you do have a weak coincidence, but something about it is just eating away at you, I won’t be able to feel that, and I’ll probably say it isn’t a sign.

Dreams also fall into this; I’ve had a few where I knew based off of feeling alone. If someone else had came up to me and asked about the exact same dream, I’d have told them no, it wasn’t a sign. But experiencing them myself, I felt a shift in their energies or clarity that clued me in.

Summary

Okay so never ever ask anyone else if something was a sign, right? No. I’m not saying it’s bad (though it CAN be if you learn to rely solely on others’ opinions instead of trying to figure it out yourself). I’m saying that you need to understand their perception of the circumstances will be different than yours because you experienced it, not them. So take what they say with a grain of salt, maybe ask around to get a few more opinions on the matter. Now, let’s say someone gets it wrong. It’s fine. None of us are free from mistakes, and none of us can speak for the gods unless we are actively channeling Them through divination or other means (even then, what they say is still UPG). If they say no and so you don’t pursue it, the deity will send another sign. If they say yes, then it depends on what the context is. If you think it’s just a general “I’m here for you, sending good vibes” sign then I don’t think assigning it wrongfully to the deity will hurt. If it’s “I have a message for you”, then you’ll usually figure it out when you contact Them further. And if it’s “Do you want to work with me?” You’ll kinda get hints as you go along. This is why I prefer following up with divination for the last option; or at least asking for a specific sign or a follow-up sign just to be safe. * I actually do not know what type of ice cream / milkshake flavor Aela likes; if I got it wrong, they have my permission to send anon hate

#hellenic pagan #pagan #witchblr

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viranlly · 4 years

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I love New York. I love drinking. I abso-fuck*n-lutely love drinking in New York. I love it so much I went to New York just to drink - caution: this trip is not, and I repeat, not for everybody. I mean, what’s not to love about drinking in New York?! The endless supply of bars; the attractive, charming and talented bar staffs, and let’s not forget the beyond delicious libations they serve up ‘til 3 (even 4) AM on a Monday - astounding, especially when you come from a small town where last call is 12.45, if you’re lucky. Before our trip, we agreed on the ‘one-drink-one-bar-rule’ - a rule that we slowly abandoned as the night progressed. After what felt like a 12 hour commute from YVR, I arrived in Penn Station, starved and parched. A quick change and a touch up later, I finally made it to dinner at WildAir: a hip, trendy, wine-focused Lower East Side restaurant from the boys who opened the Michelin-starred Contra. The food menu is a fairly simple: tartare, mushrooms, clams, and allegedly out-of-this-world fried squid. The wine list, on the other hand, is extensive and edgy. If you’re into the whole natural, skin-contact wine situation like we are, you’ll probably see us there again with a bottle of Susucaru, snacking on some fried squid. A couple blocks down from Wildair, is Bar Goto. A cozy Japanese bar with a MOOD AF lighting, brought to you by Kenta Goto, a Pegu club alumn. The man himself made me a plum Sazerac the last time I was in. It easily became one of those cocktails you crave over and over again. So naturally, I got one, and another one for good measure. The whisky finally kicked in. With a little buzz and a much better mood, we made it to Death and Company and put our name on the list. Wait time was about an hour and 30 mins, enough for a cocktail or two at Angel’s Share – or so we thought. It’s another 45 mins wait for us, but luckily, they have a sister bar next door that’s much less crowded, a little brighter, and slightly more peaceful. Our new friend Ryan, who’s bartending that night made me a ‘Bewitched’, a riff on Old Fashioned with grilled and spiced truffle-infused whisky, cognac, Kokuto syrup, bitters and Kaffir lime leaf. It’s as decadent as it sounds. Stunning mixture of flavour, texture, and aroma on each indulgent sip. It was on point. It’s finally time for us to get to Death and Co. Their Manhattan’s been calling my name since September last year. Everything about Death and Co’s Manhattan is perfect: the bourbon, the vermouth, the ratio, the temperature, just everything. Say what you want (I actually got into an argument on this) but this, is the best Manhattan in Manhattan. The night spiralled down the rabbit hole after the next drink, a Boulevardier - I remember we had two more cocktails there, but I can’t, for the sake of me, remember what they were. I know there was gin, somewhere, somehow. I won’t bore you with the details of our challenging journey home so let’s skip to the morning after - two bottles of Pedialyte, two advils, and a hot shower later. Our mind was focused on a bougie-ish scrambled eggs and caviar at Buvette, and so was the whole West Village apparently. “50 minutes” - the cute European host said. Other people would typically take this time to walk around, maybe get an oat-mylk latte and a croissant. Since we’re no ordinary people, and it just so happened that their sister bar ‘Pisellino’ just opened down the street (what a coincidence), we kinda had to stop by for a drink. It’s 1145, and in front of me was a full, frosty glass (and a mini carafe) of dry martini with olive and twist on the side. What a perfect West Village morning: sunny, breezy, and boozy. By the time we sat down for breakfast, I was a little buzzed, again. But nothing a plate fluffy scrambled eggs and caviar, waffle with berry compotes, croque madame, and another bottle of bubbly rosé can’t fix. We then spent the afternoon roaming around Soho, shopping for all the things we convinced ourselves we desperately needed - Hello new Thom Browne fragrance! It’s a quarter to eight, we were dressed to the nines, ready for a 10/10 night out in New York City. Our plan to have a chic pre-dinner cocktail at Polo Bar was cancelled because someone (aka me) forgot to call and make a reso, and it was packed there. We had to settle for the King Cole Bar across the street where the drinks were meh and the price tag was awfully expensive (no more $25, bland, overly spicy Red Snapper for us) - I went in purely to relive my Andy Sachs’ Harry Potter unpublished manuscript moment and nothing more. Dinner tonight was at the hyped up Korean steakhouse Cote in Flatiron. The one Michelin-starred restaurant is all about high quality meat, delectable side dishes, and impressive wine list (Their beverage director is such a star!). Here’s the thing, if you can make a hanger steak taste so succulently delicious, you’re doing something right. That’s exactly what they do at Cote. The steak (aside from the Galbi) is prepared in the simplest fashion: heat and salt, no marinade, no spices, no nothing - it was perfect. The service was impeccable, the timing of each dish was flawless. With a tummy filled with steak, scallion salad, and rice, we decided to walk our way back to the West Village - seemed crazy far, but at that point, it was necessary. We made it to Dante, who recently crowned #1 bar in the world, so naturally it was very busy. The apero-focused bar is famous for their ‘Negroni Sessions’, which is impressive and can be adventurous. From the most classic, to the most unexpected variation with tequila, banana and pineapple shrub, they do it, and they do it well. If you’re in the mood to splurge (we weren’t lol), their vintage martini is absolutely worth the $65 price tag (the Plymouth gin from ‘60s alone is drool-worthy). I, decided to go for the Olivette: a savoury, brine-y, less serious cousin of the vesper. We then visited Katana Kitten. Another bar in the village that scored a spot in this year’s 50 Best Bars, number 14 to be exact. It’s a fun (the owner Masahiro Urushido is also quite a legend), non pretentious neighbourhood bar with playful and whimsical cocktails. I obviously started with a Hinoki martini, yet another variation of the vesper, while Handika was having a slushy, boozy, crushed-icy ‘dessert’ (didn’t count as a drink, apparently). It was difficult to have just one drink here: would you skip on a yuzu-sisho daiquiri? how about a genever-based negroni with umeshu? or a calpico swizzle? Ya I don’t think so either. We had one of each, plus a another sisho G&T, and the classic highball. YOLO. For the sake of settling our argument on the best Manhattan in Manhattan, I invited Doris to join us at Employees Only across the street from Katana Kitten, conveniently. By the time we saw each other, my Manhattan was gone, and I was drinking a Monkey 47 martini yet again. That’s about all I can recall from that night. Oh wait, there was a tequila shot and another Manhattan - the end. Monday morning - not enough Pedialyte, water nor Advil in the world to bring me back to life. I, somehow, managed to meet Patrick for coffee, had a bite of a mushroom toast, and stayed alive. I made it back to the hotel just in time for a much-needed nap before check out and a trip to Williamsburg for lunch. It was rough. I kept telling myself another lie of “I’m never drinking again” for the 30 minute subway ride to Peter Luger. Peter Luger is a classic: steak (yes, another one), burger, with a side of onion, tomatoes, and fries. We then gathered enough energy to get to DUMBO for a picture of two (hundreds) before saying goodbye to each other - sad. I zipped back downtown for a meeting. A VERY EXCITING MEETING. I got the pleasure to visit the Bon Appetit test kitchen, thanks for the my lovely host Chris Morocco (Yes - we’re friends now HA!). it’s only appropriate that I wore my ‘Thirsty for Andy’ t-shirt - Andy was there, and we obvs. bonded over my OOTD. Claire was doing her ‘Gourmet Makes’, Carla was there, Molly too, Oh I also got to meet Alex Delany and Em Scultz too. It’s a casual Monday afternoon at BA test kitchen. It’s now cocktail hour and the one man I got to meet this time was the man everyone needs in their life: mister Steven Huynh himself. An instagram-turned-real-life-friend that I’ve known for 7 years. We met for the first time that night and we got along over dry martini-inspired cocktails and crudité at Thomas Keller’s TAK room (in the Hudson Yards). Sitting at the bar at TAK room feels luxurious but not intimidating. The bar team was friendly, interactive, and passionate about amaro. They even took us downstairs to check out the vintage amaro collections at their speakeasy, Bookbinder. After a snack break, we visited David Chang’s new restaurant Kawi downstairs. Steven had a pineapple rum daiquiri, I, had a ‘New Fashioned’ - a play of the classic Old Fashioned with coconut-washed Japanese whisky, sencha and bitters. It was delicious. The buzz is back on, and I felt so much better (HA!). Our next stop was The Nomad Hotel - our absolute favorite. We felt like we’re home right away, especially after a delicious Monkey 47 martini (Nobody’s counting, right?). Zanib joined us later that night for a negroni, and of course, I had to refresh my almost empty drink. Another friend Erik joined us for one more drink. Things started to get blurry real quick, I recall there was a Manhattan, a Brooklyn, a rum cocktail of some sort, fried chicken, and a Macallan 12 at one point before we’re back in the car for a nightcap at Blacktail. A tiki-focused sister bar of Dead Rabbit. We’re welcomed by a pink slushy daiquiri, and the bartender made me a delicious, stirred rum cocktail to sip on - don’t ask what it’s called. I finally tapped out and made my way back to Brooklyn. With close to zero voice, I got to Newark and flew back to Vancouver via. Denver - yes, I made a stop to Death and Co for a Sazerac-esque cocktail called the Uncanny Valley and a lobster ceviche. Here I am two weeks later, still recovering from the worst sore throat of my life, slowly getting my voice back (still can’t hit Mariah’s note tho :s). Will I do it again? ABSOLUTELY! Thanks for the amazing time New York - until next time!

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cinnbar-bun · 5 years

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Hello! Just came here to say I really love your writing and request a sequel to the Belial x Pregnancy S/O where she gives birth to the child (whether it be a boy or a girl, maybe twins??)

A/n: hhhhhhh I’m love??? Thank you so much!!! Hhhhhh this one is a lot more emotional and has uhhhh some angst???

Belial is really calm during the delivery. You’re screaming at him that you’ll absolutely murder him because he’s making you go through this, and he is smiling back and patting your head and doing his best to help.

And he was overjoyed to see his precious little twins! One was a boy, the other a girl, and he was just having a heart attack at seeing their tiny bodies all swaddled up.

While you’re asleep and his children are by your bedside, he can’t help but just look at you guys and smile. This is...this is an entirely new feeling for him. He held back for so long, thinking that he shouldn’t have been able to get happiness, and here he was, a family, his very own family.

The kids are his absolute pride and joy. He’s basically a soccer mom in black jeans and purple feathers. He insists he must help his children with fashion because his KIDS CANNOT AND WILL NOT WALK AROUND LOOKING LIKE SOME BASIC SKYDWELLER. NU-UH CHIRREN, FLAUNT YOUR STUFF BECAUSE YOU ARE AMAZING.

Matching sunglasses for all of the family? More likely than you think.

Once his children start getting older and developing more personality, he tends to notice where they got them from.

For instance, his son is definitely you. A lot more calm and nice, a precious little bean who seems to always be smiling.

His daughter is definitely him. She’s a little diva, always loud and energetic. And he gets so proud when she threatens to beat people up for making fun of her brother.

While he loves both his children, his daughter is someone he relates to a lot more, so he knows all her little tricks.

“Ah, ah, ah, what did Mommy say about no dessert before dinner?”

“B-but! How’d you even find out? I cleaned up the mess!”

“Listen little munchkin, you can’t out smart me of all people.”

Let the mind games begin.

Belial lets her try his scythe and she instantly loves it. Your son however prefers a good ol’ harp.

Raising a family sure as hell ain’t easy, so sometimes he sends off the kids to Aunt Lyria or Uncle Sandalphon.

Belial’s got the biggest shit eating grin as he hands them over, because the two love the children and you, but they despise Belial with every fiber of their being (even after you’ve gotten married and everything).

Your daughter loves to screw with Sandalphon, and he has night terrors of when she switched out his sugar with salt, or replaced his coffee with soy sauce.

Just so you know, she’d never do that with Auntie Lyria because she gives her sweets!!!!

Your son is very polite and loves to learn more about the two, and Sandalphon likes having him over to just feel...not alone.

Belial never really thinks of how this could all go wrong now. He’s finally obtained happiness and love, and this high feels like it’ll never end.

until the day his son comes home crying about how when he was pushing a friend on a swing, they flew off and nearly broke their wrist.

His sister came home a week later and explained that the reason she had bloody knuckles was because she punched a kid who was trying to bully another classmate, and they landed on a desk and doubled over in pain (she was quite proud of it, and internally, so was Belial, but because you were nearby he scolded her lightly).

He never told his kids about their heritage, and had assumed that maybe they just didn’t get any significant powers because they seemed so...normal. When these things keep piling up, he can’t keep ignoring them or brushing them off as coincidences, so he immediately goes to you and rants about how awful he feels.

The reality of their situation only settles in more when his kids start to notice that they look a lot younger than most despite growing up. His son is the first to bring up how Belial looks the same as he did when you and him got married, yet you seem to have gotten older.

He of course laughed it off and said he had good genes.

Oh god, and his kids had them too.

He really did not know what this would mean for them. Would they be immortal? Or would they just live longer than most? What kind of powers would they have.

And the thought that plagues him the most- would they end up like how he was?

His anxiety hits a breaking point when his kids talk about how they had to do a project about the day the sky was about to fall. They didn’t believe it happened, but you two try to give a cleaner version of went down, so as to avoid the other parts about how their father was...a demon on some parts.

They picked up you two were hiding something, so they went to Sandalphon. He also would not reveal what happened, albeit he looked a lot more guilty and annoyed they asked, so they knew something bad happened.

The next went to Lyria. Your son remembered she kept a journal during her travels with you, and he asked for it, saying it was for a school project. Lyria, who was none the wiser to their schemes, handed it over and told them to have fun with it.

The following things they read made their heads spin. Lyria wrote a lot about that day.

“Sandalphon...he’s a primarch? And so is dad?”

“Look what she wrote for dad...’basically the worst’...”

“Brother...what’s going on?”

When they return home, your daughter immediately goes on the offensive and demands to know why you guys hid what they truly were.

“All this time! You lied to us! Here I was thinking something was really wrong with me- and it turns out you were just a bad guy!”

Her brother tries to calm her down but she gets even angrier and screams insults at Belial.

Belial feels anxious because he knew this day would come. The happiness he had worked so hard to obtain would come crumbling. Because of him.

In a desperate attempt to ease her anger and fear, Belial tries to step forward and place his hands on her shoulders, but she slaps them away and calls him a monster.

“Don’t touch me! You damn demon! You’re a monster! You’re a liar!”

“Don’t say that to him, sis! Breathe for a moment, please!”

Your daughter is incredibly affected by the news of what she is and who her father once was. She always loved Belial, and thought highly of him because he was similar to her, they could play pranks with each other and still be happy, because they were just two tricksters having fun.

But her stark sense of justice was an even bigger driving force in her life. The fact her father was someone evil made her insides churn. What if she became as bad as him one day?

Your son on the other hand, is a lot more calm and level-headed about the situation and understands how hard it must’ve been. He tries to sort out his feelings with you, since he always felt more comfortable with you, and asks what made you fall in love with Belial. After you tell your son about all your emotions, he goes and apologizes to Belial. He easily trusts him again, but does warn him that if he dare try to do anything remotely bad, he won’t hesitate to hurt him.

Belial nearly cries out of relief and pride. His son was finally becoming a man.

“I’ll hold it you, kid. I promise your old man won’t do anything bad.”

Fixing his relationship with his daughter took a lot of time. She wouldn’t even look at him and would coldly brush him off.

This was perhaps one of the most painful moments in his life, right up there at the time when you nearly killed him and Lucilius was murdered.

Eventually, she broke down and clung to him, apologizing profusely over how she treated him. She admitted her fears about becoming a bad person, and he wipes her tears and lets her know that she will never become a demon.

“You’re my little angel, you could never upset me, nor will you ever be a bad person.”

After the entire fiasco settles and Belial explains more of the situation to them, he instantly embraces you.

“Thank you...” He whispers as he hugs you tightly.

“For what? I’ve done nothing.”

“You stayed with me. You loved me even after those awful things I’ve done. Sometimes...sometimes I get scared of what will happen to us one day. What if I hurt you, or the kids?”

“Belial. Look at me, love. I know you. You’d never hurt us. I trust you with my life, even if the world turns its back on you. You have us. You have our love and support.”

It’s all he needs to hear before he breaks down and sobs into your arms.

Belial is actually pretty lax about his kids dating.

His daughter is pretty outgoing so she usually talks about her crush or will quickly tell him as she’s walking out of the house she’s going on a date. She’s been going steady with her boyfriend for three years now and she’s going on about getting married.

“Not until you graduate and I’m dead, young lady.”

“BUT YOURE IMMMOOOORRTTAAALLLLLL!!”

His son is pretty reserved and he literally begs him to go out.

“STOP STUDYING AND JUST LIKE GET A GIRLFRIEND OR SOMETHING!!!!”

When his son admits he has a crush on his classmate Belial is screaming and congratulating him.

Belial really tries to spend as much time with his family as possible. You’re unfortunately growing older, and so are the kids. As they’ve grown more proficient with their weapons and fighting, you decide to go back on the Grandcypher and adventure again.

Some of your crew mates have passed, while others have grown into adulthood splendidly, and it brings you joy to reunite with them.

Belial is surprisingly a good father. A lot of people were doubtful he’d ever change his ways and become a worthy man in society, but to him, he doesn’t care. He has you and his two kids. There’s practically nothing else he needs in the world except you three.

Sometimes Belial likes to just stare at you when you’re sleeping and just reminisce. He really wants to know what he did to become lucky enough to get married to you and start a family.

He sighs in contentment and pulls you closer to him, finally letting his tired body rest. There’s plenty of places to explore tomorrow, and he wants to celebrate and experience all of them with his family.

#hhhhhhhh tender belial #belial loving hours #belial x reader #gbf #gbf imagines #gbf x reader #granblue fantasy #granblue fantasy x reader

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