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norangeyyy · 3 years

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Late Night HCs

Bucci Gang Edition

TW: nothing too extreme, just a little bit of hurt/comfort stuff sprinkled right here and there.

Bruno Bucciarati

► Bucciarati typically doesn't stay up late at night, he has work and would squeeze all the amount of sleep he can get on his free time.

► Unless he has a lot of things in mind.

► It doesn't matter whether it's a work-related problem, his past, a random thought, or just generally his worries about his future. It will keep him up.

► He'll definitely need someone to be an outlet but if no one's available, he'll just stare at the night sky and distract himself with the moving clouds or finish some of his work until he's too tired to think of anything.

► If you happen to be in the same situation and same place that night though, then make sure that you take care of the trust he has for you when he was at most vulnerable and he will do same with you.

► I personally headcannon Bucciarati to be the type to like those kind of conversations since i highly doubt that he has been so vulnerable in front of anyone besides Abbachio ever since he joined the mafia.

► And even then, he's mostly the one who lifts the spirits up and not the other way around since he's the leader.

► So expect to hear things and words you wouldn't expect to come from the Bucciarati you see everyday come spilling out of his mouth, it'll be a lot.

► Pat his back or better yet, give him a hug and brush his hair while doing so. He needs it a lot since he hasn't really got one after his family fell apart.

► "I feel so much better now, thank you. I'll make sure not to forget about this night. "

Leone Abbachio

► The night owl of the gang.

► Staying up until 3AM is nothing new to this man, hell, he could even go on a whole day without sleep if he has a lot of things that's bothering him.

► He's the opposite of Bucciarati, he prefers to shoulder his intrusive thoughts alone. It'd take some great amount of effort and trust to make him talk and let it out.

► What he does during those times is either using his stand to replay certain memories that could either worsen his guilt or put him at ease, or just drink until he passes out but most of the time, he does both.

► He could also be listening to some music while he does so but if he's feeling guilty for making Bucciarati concerned about his frequent drinking, then he'll just listen to music and hope that he'll fall asleep and not just keep his eyes closed until the sun rises.

► It works, kind of, but even without alcohol driving him to sleep, he'll always be tired. His sleeping schedule is seriously messed up because he never really cared about it in the first place.

► Would sometimes go out for a walk. Leone is fond of the city's peacefulness when everyone is asleep, with the only thing keeping him accompany is the cold air and the dim light of the lampposts.

► Secretly still has his police uniform and would occasionally take it out just to stare at it or talk to it in a not-so-kind of way as he sees his younger self in it.

► Gets dragged in whatever shit Narancia and the others are up to if he gets spotted. Mostly it's just for a movie night behind Bucciarati's back but Abbachio knows better and expects the unexpected when it comes to the gang.

► Knows what everyone does in late night if they're still up and has seen a lot of ungodly sights.

► Whether it be seeing a sleepy Mista and the pistols chanting a weird prayer to a bowl of cereals or Fugo being dragged out of his room by Narancia, Leone knows it.

Pannacotta Fugo

► Just like Bucciarati, Fugo rarely stays up late at night and if he does, it's usually just because he's busy.

► Fugo has hobbies like painting and reading, everyone in the gang knows that. It's just that he gets carried way too far sometimes and loses track of time.

► Who could blame him though when the book he's reading is just too interesting or the painting he's currently working on is almost done, right?

► On extremely rare occasions where something unpleasant enough to keep Fugo up at night happens, he'll bundle himself in his fluffy blanket like a butterfly in its cocoon.

► He always does this back when he's still living with his parents, it makes him feel safe from anything that's haunting him.

► And if it's neither his hobbies or problems that's keeping him up, he'll just hear Narancia whispering outside his door or Mista throwing pebbles at his window.

► For the first few times the duo did this, Fugo was still able to resist until he just can't anymore knowing that they wouldn't leave him alone all night.

► "Well, this isn't so bad. "

► He says as he enthusiastically tosses a popcorn into his mouth with his eyes glued all over the lit screen of the TV.

► Movie nights, along with sneaking out to go the nearest convenience store, became a common thing between the Torture Dance Trio™ ever since then.

Narancia Ghirga

► The type to wake up in the middle of the night and think "Hmm... Everyone's asleep, let's commit robbery tonight!"

► Fugo's sleep paralysis demon.

► Would literally not hesitate to steal chocolate bars with Mista and probably does 3AM challenges with him too.

► Never runs out of ideas to keep himself up at night and is the one who comes up with everything but what he does still depends on his mood.

► If Narancia's feeling a little too lazy then he'll just sleep and most of the time, with music keeping him accompany. But unlike Abbachio, he purposely doesn't wear headphones just to annoy Fugo whose room is right next to his.

► If he's feeling like it, he'll straight up just invite the others to watch a movie or play videogames even though Bruno has already made it clear not to use the TV after 11PM.

► But just as he likes staying up at night doing crazy things with the boys, he also uses his energy left and free time to self-study, as surprising that may sound.

► He may hate reading but he takes advantage of the fact that his brain is much active at night and he doesn't want to depend on Fugo too much. After all, he dreams on going back to school and he's more than willing to be capable enough to do so alone and pass without the other teen's help.

► Will cuddle anything that's near him while he studies but if you give him a plushie, it'll be instantly his favorite and he would definitely use it as a study buddy.

Guido Mista

► Alright, let's be honest here, this dude wouldn't even stay up if it weren't for his bros.

► 5 seconds lying on the bed and he's already knocked out for a good 10 hours if there's no work he has to do for the day. Make it 8 at weekdays thanks to his mafia-related responsibilities.

► He sleeps like a log so only a combination of shaking him up awake with Fugo and Narancia can make him rise from what seems like a two year coma but is really just a normal tuesday night.

► Will pretty much join Narancia at anything he does but since his last three brain cells are obviously still as half asleep as him, he won't be able to remember that much the next day.

► And once he's out of the room and is already sitting on the couch with the guys, Mista's the type to fall asleep halfway through the movie.

► You can't blame him though, it's 12AM and it seems that Fugo got to choose what movie they'll watch since Narancia already got to choose the other night.

► Unless they're playing videogames or are going out then he won't be acting like a slow ass PVZ zombie with a fried brain. Actually, he'll be hella active if that's the case.

► Active at grabbing every snack each second, that is.

► Actually, it's the pistols who does that but oh well, it's not like Mista's innocent too.

► "I swear it's not me who ate all of our groceries for this month! Right, guys?! It's the pistols! "

► And that, everyone, is how Guido blew their little rendezvous without even trying.

Giorno Giovanna

► There's not much to be said about this boy since just like Mista, Giorno goes to bed early as he makes sure he still gets the proper amount of sleep.

► He already has a lot of things to deal with at day so of course, by the end of it, he'll be exhausted.

► Nights before exams are excluded because although he may seem like he skips class sometimes, Giorno still knows his priorities.

► Only when he became the head of the mafia did he really started to lose sleep as great power comes with great responsibilities.

► It took a LONG time for Giorno to adjust to a lot of things cause come on, he maybe resilient but he's still a 15 year old teen.

► Not only does he have towers after towers of work but i like to imagine that he still continued his education and used some of the things he learns in class in the mafia, specifically in classes like history or geography class since as a boss, he has to know every nook and cranny of Italy.

► Not to mention that emergencies happen and he always has to be ready to give out orders, even if it means being woken up at 1AM.

► God, help this child because all the things mentioned above are just an understatement of what happens on the first few months of being in charge of Passione.

► "So this is why Diavolo looks like he's about to explode whenever something goes wrong huh. "

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 6 years

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Bad Samaritan

If I've said it once I've said it a hundred times - the key to enjoying this quest to see 118 movies in 2018 is LOW EXPECTATIONS. I had never heard of this movie until yesterday but I got goals, so here we are.

Bad Samaritan is the story of Sean, a wide-eyed and charming Irish expat petty thief with a heart of gold (Robert Sheehan). Sean runs a valet scam in which, instead of parking cars, he uses the GPS to nav to the person's home and robs them while they're at dinner. That is until he goes to rob the ridiculously named Cale Erendreich (David Tennant). While he’s in Cale’s (ugh) house, he finds a girl chained up, gagged, and tortured Buffalo Bill style, so he tries to help her, but has to return the car to the restaurant lest Cale suspect anything and leaves her there. He calls the police anonymously so they can rescue the girl but OHP! She’s not there and they find nothing. Cale figures out who tattled and then makes it his mission to destroy Sean’s life while also still being a psychopathic creep who tortures girls for fun. Solid premise for a thriller, right? So the real question is, did Dean Devlin - aka one-half the team that brought us Independence Day and most recently Geostorm - nail the execution? Well...

Listen, I wasn’t kidding - the expectations were low and as a result, I really enjoyed this. Look, it’s not without its problems, but I 1) genuinely cared about the protagonists, 2) believe that, given the information we have at hand, the protagonists would have acted exactly in this way in real life and 3) appreciated the charismatic performances that really elevate some bargain-basement material into something pretty compelling. But uh...I still have a lot of thoughts.

Was this filmed through a blue dryer sheet? I get that he's trying to create a #mood and it is set in Portland, so the mistiness makes sense but like...shit's excessive.

It's no surprise after seeing what he could do in Jessica Jones, but David Tennant is truly fantastic in this. I think he must really love working out his stress by playing seriously disturbed, wildly rich psychopaths. Some people play racquetball. David Tennant pretends to tie girls up in basements.

This feels like a weird thing to praise a movie for but in a shocking and refreshing turn of events, the horrific treatment of Cale’s victim does NOT include the threat of sexual violence at any point. In fact, he explicitly is grossed out at the idea of touching his victim sexually. Like, please make no mistake, his treatment of her is horrifying, but I was appreciative that for once a woman’s trauma in a movie of this genre was not based in sexual assault.

Possibly my biggest question in the whole movie - at one point, I’m 98% sure Cale gives himself a home perm? With no explanation? It’s never addressed AT ALL? Like, you see his face in the mirror after a shower - normal hair. He bends down to rinse his face or something, pops back up, CURLY HAIR. Was this some kind of disguise? Why not dye your hair? It takes less time. Did he have to put in all those tiny rollers? That would take hours! You’re being hunted by the police, man! A box of L’Oreal Feria takes 25 minutes to develop. Almost immediately after this, he is bragging about how clever he is, and says “No, no, crazy people get caught” but dude, all of your credibility has been shot because while the FBI is getting their warrant, you’re waiting for the neutralizer to set.

A related issue - what even is time in this movie? How long does this all take? The original break in happens, let’s say Tuesday night. Cops are called, nobody’s there, oh no! So Sean goes to the police and we’re told he’s there all night, he hasn’t slept. Goes to meet his girlfriend at her school in the afternoon. Takes his stepdad’s truck, then something happens and he detours to his friend’s house - it’s nighttime again, so Wednesday night. He goes back to Cale’s house, steals his car, and drives at least a couple hours to nearby Sandy, Oregon. Then it’s morning again, and the big showdown happens. So this all takes place in less than 48 hours and NOBODY SLEEPS. With the amount of shit that Cale does to mess with Sean, his family, his girlfriend, his best friend - I don’t know how anyone could do that in 36 hours. This dude is busier than Beyonce.

A big part of why a kind of ridiculous plot like this works is because Robert Sheehan is so charming. It's hard to stand up to David Tennant's screen presence, and I’m not sure he does when they’re in scenes together (albeit briefly). But when he’s on his own, he’s incredibly sweet, likable, and for once, showcases a great deal of integrity. I’ve complained on this blog before about all these movies where random characters tell the main male protagonist, “You’re a good man, ______” when really they’re kind of the worst, most mediocre dudes. But Sean really IS a good man, and it was nice to root for a clear Gryffindor, through and through, who was doing everything he possibly could to do the right thing and save someone’s life.

Speaking of, Kerry Condon, who plays Cale’s victim (fun fact: she’s the voice of Friday in the MCU) does a lot with very little, and her few scenes really resonate with pain and empathy and even some humor. Loved her.

Don't shoot people without looking at them, that's like the first rule of movie murder school.

This is Redbox or Netflix material all over, and you could honestly do a lot worse. I was very entertained and greatly enjoyed the first part of my Bad Samaritan/Chappaquiddick double feature entitled “Rich White Men Getting Away With Murder.”

#118in2018 #bad samaritan #bad samaritan review #david tennant #robert sheehan #kerry condon #movie reviews #film reviews

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tatooedlaura-blog · 7 years

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Twenty-second Christmas

the series is as follows so far:

First … Second … Third … Fourth … Fifth … Fifth Christmas, Part 2 … Sixth … Seventh … Eighth … Ninth … Tenth … Eleventh … Twelfth … Thirteenth … Fourteenth … Fifteenth … Sixteenth … Seventeenth … Eighteenth … Nineteenth … Twentieth … Twenty-first … Twenty-second … Twenty-third

———————–

I have to mess with the timeline again but I need another Christmas in here before Maggie dies so I’m putting one in and shifting the rest of the timeline … sue me … 8^)

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Maggie had lay down the law with his previous year’s Christmas gift. It was a smartphone, a simple one, one without a camera on it, one attached to her cell plan, one that she insisted he keep on now because she was getting old and if she fell, he would be the first one she’d call and he needed to be reachable at all times.

He tried to argue but she shut him down, good-naturedly and with mother’s love abounding but still, she told him to be quiet and do as he was told. He’d fought her but she was more stubborn than her daughter had ever been and much scarier so he relented, taking her at her word that she’d be calling him at random times just to check that it was on.

It didn’t annoy him.

It made his heart beat a little faster, however, at the prospect of something on in his house at all times that wasn’t ‘firewall-paranoid-Frohike would be proud, technologically protected from everyone in the world who was not him or Scully or Maggie’. He did, once he got home, stare at it for a long while, power it down, felt the crushing guilt of having turned it off, turned it back on, plugged it in in his office, shut the door, went to bed, returned five minutes later to retrieve it because he had sudden visions of Maggie falling down the stairs, Maggie burning the house down, Maggie getting in an accident, Maggie showing up to read him the riot act for having turned it off in the first place.

It took until the next morning for him to use it to call her with one simple response to the whole situation, “why wouldn’t you just call Scully? She’s closer and can sign forms and stuff and won’t need to wait for a cab to get to you.”

Maggie honestly had no idea it would take him this long to figure that out and she laughed, “just leave it on, Fox, for me.”

He did.

Now he called her like a normal human being, she called him and somehow, Scully began calling him … not often but at least once or twice a week, sometimes just to see if she had any mail there or if he was doing okay or if he needed anything …

Scully’s standard mode of caring when she wasn’t sure if she could handle admitting she cared.

He accepted the erratic thud of his heart when he saw her name flash on the caller ID and the second thud as he hit the accept button. It returned to its normal beat two minutes later when she deemed the conversation over, having satisfied some nameless need buried deep inside for another few days.

He accepted this, too.

&&&&&&&&&&&

They hadn’t eaten a meal together in nearly two years but Maggie had called about a dripping pipe and Mulder had come, even though it was a Wednesday and Scully had dropped by unannounced because it was Wednesday and not Tuesday and the moment she saw him, soaking shirt with a wrench in his hand and he saw her in a messy ponytail, keys dangling from the Apollo keychain held precariously in her teeth while she tried not to drop her purse and what looked like Maggie’s mail, her mother/his adopted mother felt a spark in the air, a flutter in the ozone, a blip on the radar and breathed a sigh of relief because, regardless of what may have happened between them in the last 24 months, the magic was still there, sleeping but stirring awake once again and palpable in her freezing living room.

“Dear, would you shut the door, please? Fox is going to freeze solid and I don’t think he’ll enjoy that.”

Scully quickly gathered her senses, dropping keys and mail, shutting door, opening door again to retrieve dropped keys before finally standing up, blowing stray hair from her eyes with a sudden puff upwards, “sorry. I just … wasn’t … sorry.”

Maggie nearly giggled but managed to contain her glee at her two people finally in a room once again, “it’s fine. Come on in. We were just about to have some dinner. Fox came over to fix a pipe that was dripping.” Twisting her hands gently, “old things don’t grip quite as well as they used to.”

Mulder scrambled out of the way, “yeah, sorry. Come on in. I’ll head out in a minute, just need to find a dry shirt.”

“Fox, I promised you dinner and you are staying. I’ve made your favorite so you don’t have much of a choice in the matter.”

Shrugging but smiling, he looked at Scully, “she really enjoys ordering me around.”

Returning the smile before quickly looking away, “she does it out of love.”

“She must adore me something fierce then.”

Tentatively touching his arm as she passed, “she does.”

Dinner itself wasn’t as awkward as it could have been but there were definitely moments, moments of dead air that pressed down, compressing the spine and shoulders, back hunching involuntarily under the weight of the silence. Scully excused herself to the bathroom in one moment … Mulder to blow his nose in another … both stood in unison for the third to bolt then both smiled shyly for a moment before turning their looks to a Maggie simply shaking her head, “we need some dessert and music. Dana, go find a decent station on the radio for me, please.”

All in all, it was a happy night, all three parties going to bed at ease with the world.

&&&&&&&&&&

Maggie had her normal, raucous Christmas with the family, sans Charlie and Bill but with enough grandchildren and grand nieces and nephews to fill her house to cacophonous capacity. She had invited Mulder but he was nowhere near ready for that and politely declined, telling Maggie he’d be around on the 27th with her gift and to help her clean behind the oven and refrigerator. Instead, he settled with an orange cat on his lap, a bag of Cheezits so if some got on the animal, he’d never know and six bottles of ice tea and root beer.

Nearly asleep, with the cat ninja-like attempting to steal snacks from the open box, he startled awake at the sound of a quiet knock on the front door. Jerking upwards, the cat, the crackers and two empties clattered to the floor, the yowling cat jumping immediately to the coffee table to give Mulder a piece of her mind at the disturbance.

He ignored the cat, optioning to panic at the midnight rapping at his entryway. Peering cautiously through the front curtain, he saw Scully’s car and pulled the door open immediately, “what’s wrong? What happened? Is Maggie okay?”

His intruding presence, inches from her, panic look on his face made her smile, arms automatically going to his chest, pushing him back slightly into the house and out of the freezing wind, “we’re all fine, Mulder, I promise.”

Next he pulled her further in, shutting the door, softest touch of coiled steel to her forearms, “are you sure?”

“Yes, honest, I swear to you. She’s fine. I’m fine. Everyone’s fine. I left there about a half-hour ago and everybody was just going to bed.” Still bundled in her coat and knit rainbow stocking cap with the tassles on top, her pink cheeks peeking through her matching rainbow scarf, “I just wanted to come wish you a Merry Christmas.”

Studying her for another second, he deemed her honest and let out a sigh, “you scared me.”

“I’m sorry. Truly. I didn’t think. I should have called to warn you.” He saw the doubt at her side excursion creeping into her eyes, which began darting around the room, then angling towards her escape, “I can go though. Sorry … sorry again.”

Finally smiling in her direction, “get in here. I need help drinking my root beer.”

Raised eyebrow met crinkling forehead, “root beer?”

“No liquor for me anymore. Interferes with the meds.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he nodded over his shoulder, “me and Flab share us some of that fine New England root beer every so often. Keeps us young.”

Hearing her name, the cat jumped from table to couch to end table to chair back to Mulder shoulder in silence, perching as if she were queen of the kingdom and Mulder was her throne. Scully laughed, “Flab?”

He scratched the cat’s chin, “Flab.” Finally remembering the rest of his manners, “shit, sorry. Would you like to stay?”

Great debates raced through her mind, even as she was shrugging out of her coat, stuffing scarf and hat into her sleeve, “for a little bit.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Twenty minutes later, they were settled on the couch, Scully on one end, Mulder on the other, Flab stretched to maximum capacity in the middle, head pressed against his thigh and feet pushed against hers. The TV was on but mute and making the darkened room glow blue, “so, don’t hit me for this but I can’t ask your mom and I’ve been wondering for awhile now … what the hell happened with Charlie?”

Scully could only shrug, picking at the label of the bottle in her hand, “nobody really knows. Mom won’t tell me, Bill talks to him occasionally and can’t get anything out of him, Sarah, while she loves us and is around all the time, we’ve stopped asking because it just makes her cry and that bothers the kids and so … we just … ignore it, I guess. The kids bring him up sometimes and we all are fine with that but usually it’s just to say what they used to do with him or something he would have liked.” Turning her head and resting it on the couch, “I hate to say it but it’s like he’s died and we’ve moved on but he’s still alive and we don’t know how to move on.”

Moving his hand to touch her automatically, he discovered his reality a moment too late and instead of hanging there like an idiot, he nonchalantly dropped his hand to pet Flab instead.

Scully was not an idiot and knew what his hand movement had been about though she couldn’t fault him since her body anticipated the touch, craved it and standing up, she turned, then sat on the table, knees touching his, bottle still in hand, although not for long. Setting it down beside her, she let her fingers float over his denim, loose fitting cotton over hard thigh. She didn’t move any further up than just past his knee but it felt warm and comfortable and right.

“Scully?”

“Nothing’s going to happen, Mulder. I know it can’t but I haven’t touched you in centuries.”

His hand drifted to cover hers, digits between digits slipping in divots and dips. Fingerprints circle knuckles, palms against backs as his thumbs finally settle softly against wrists, “I miss you everyday, Scully. Every hour, every minute, every second, every millisecond and whatever the hell comes after that.”

She couldn’t begin to echo the sentiment, even come close to how much she missed him. Needing to break eye contact with him before she came apart completely, she looked around the room, letting the emotions settle, “not decorating this year, I take it?”

Beginning small circles on the softest skin known to man, he felt the delicate tendons under her skin, the underside of her wrist his sole dream in that moment, “I haven’t decorated since you left. I didn’t see any point to it. Have you decorated?”

Truth bubbled up, threatened to pour forth in a torrent of painful, hurtful words but a quick intake of air shored up the dam, “no. Haven’t been in a Christmas mood the last few years. I do well at Mom’s but I go home and I don’t want that there.”

“You don’t want what there?”

Shit, she couldn’t stop it now, “I don’t want that sense of permanence, the notion that I’m going to be there long enough to have to go out and get more decorations, pack things up and put them within easy reach for the next year. I’m not ready for that. I want a place that is mine but I’m not ready to call it my home yet. Decorations are for a home, Mulder, not a stale apartment in the city.” Tears pricked her eyes but always the expert at pushing through them, she blinked rapidly, although not fast enough to hide them completely, “I will someday but not yet.”

Checking the clock and seeing they still had about a half-hour, he squeezed her wrists lightly, “what do you think about decorating now? We could put up all our regular stuff and make this place look like it used to.”

Suddenly, she missed him so much her chest ached, a stabbing pain across her breastbone reminding her she did indeed have a heart, still broken but very much there. Fighting the logic racing through her brain, she nodded, “I’d like that.”

&&&&&&&&

Slipping into old habits instinctively, Scully set up the tree while Mulder hung stockings and garland. Both quietly placed ornaments until Scully came across the one her mother had made him. With a smile, “I knew she made you one, too! She didn’t answer me when I asked but she had that ‘I’ve got a secret’ look on her face.”

“What color is yours?”

“Red, white lettering.”

He scooted just a little closer, brushing shoulders with her, “you should have bought yours with you. We could have added it to the collection.”

“Maybe next time I come by.”

Mulder wanted to smile at the prospect of her coming by again but he couldn’t look forward to it, knowing disappointment would set him on edge so he chose to continue staring at the tree, feeling her warmth, her energy, the life he had once and would give almost anything to have again.

Scully felt it, too and nudging his hand with hers, no commitment, no expectation, just touch, “you got any hot chocolate around this place?”

“I think I got some on my last shopping trip. Flab likes to drink it with me on our Saturday dates.”

Following him to the kitchen, “you have a standing date with your cat on Saturday nights?”

He knew she wasn’t judging so he told her over his shoulder as he rummaged through cupboards, “yeah. We have tuna salad, carrots, biscuits and hot chocolate or steak, baked potatoes, spinach and hot chocolate. We eat on the couch and she gets to share and then she gets to lick my mug when I’m finished. After that comes brushing and then she falls asleep while I watch bad sci-fi.”

Deciding the past wasn’t as forbidden as she thought it was when she knocked on the door, “that sounds surprisingly like our Saturday date nights used to be as well.”

With a glance at her hair, “speaking of brushing, what happened to your hair? I mean, it looks good but it’s not the right color suddenly. I noticed earlier but forgot to ask.”

Self-consciously touching the strands against her shoulder, “yeah, so I was at the hospital and Methylene blue sprayed on me and dyed my hair a lovely shade of splatter-pattern Cobalt and it wouldn’t wash out so I had to bleach my whole head and then the woman who went to dye it back to my regular color did something and it came out like this. It’s paler than it used to be but I’m getting used to it.”

Reaching out to feel it, “are we mentioning the straw feeling?”

With a smile, she batted his hand away, “we are not and I was also informed that if I try to color it again in the next six months, it’ll all fall out of my head so I’m living uncomfortably with it until further notice.”

“Good to know.” As he pulled the hot mugs from the microwave, he handed her one, “I’m liking it, if that’s any consolation but I gotta say, I would have liked to have seen you as a blonde again. It’s been awhile.”

“Well, next time someone tries to turn me into a Smurf and I have to bleach, I’ll be sure to call you.”

Grinning, he nodded, “I’ll be waiting.”

Mugs in hand, they headed back to the couch, where they proceeded to sit until well after 3am, when half-asleep on his end of the couch, he suddenly remembered, “shit! Aren’t you due back at Maggie’s in two hours?”

Scully, more than half asleep on the other end, grunted quietly, “then I’ve got an hour and a half to sleep. Be quiet.”

Flab, happy to snuggle on the lap of the strange lady invading her home for the evening, stretched, kneaded, wiggled and purred her way to sleep, notifying the stranger, in no uncertain terms, she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“I don’t think the cat was going to let you leave anyways.”

“My kind of cat. G’night, Mulder.”

“G’night, Scully.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Baffled as to how she got out of the house without disturbing him, he awoke to Flab on his lap, the Christmas tree lights still on and a new ornament on the tree.

Well, new to the tree but matching the one Maggie gave him the previous year. She’d smuggled hers over, sneaking it onto the tree before disappearing to her Christmas morning chaos. Picking up his puddle of cat, he held her, showing her Scully’s ornament, “that’s your mom’s. She’ll be back someday I hope but for now, I think we should decide to have truly enjoyed last night then move on to breakfast. What do you say … eggs? Pancakes? Tuna?”

The cat simply purred, licking his hand for a moment before going back to sleep.

He kissed the top of her head, “Merry Christmas, animal.”

“Mmmrrrorr.”

#msr #saturday nights dates with the cat #dropping by #christmas series #my writing #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic

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stillthewordgirl · 7 years

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LOT/CC fic: Central City Rendezvous, ch. 12 (of 15)

Rip Hunter never came for the Legends. But maybe some meetings are meant to be. (A CaptainCanary AU.)

This one takes place just before and partly into the Flash episode "Invincible." I think I might have tweaked the timing a bit but, hey, it's an AU. :)

Many thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta! This is now 15 chapters, but that's final... and they're well on their way to being done.

Can also be read here at AO3 and here at FF.net.

Later, they'll call it the "meta-pocalyse."

It starts as… Tuesday.

Leonard hears the first explosion faintly, muffled by what turns out to be some distance and the curtain of Sara's hair, which has fallen over his face as she's wrapped herself around him, there in the king bed in the safe house. He sighs into her neck as she mutters, then brushes her hair away and rolls over, listening.

Boom. Boom.

OK, not his imagination. He sits up, catching Sara's hand (not without regret) as it slides down his chest.

"Trouble," he tells her as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. "Maybe not our kind of trouble, but... hear that?"

"Mmhmm." Sara rises, stretching, and damn, is that a sight he’d like to wake up to every day. But it’s neither the time nor place for thoughts like that, and he rips his away with regret, turning to look for his cold gun and parka.

They emerge, dressed and armed, only minutes later. Sara's sorting through the comm units left discarded on the desk when a door bangs open at the other end of the safe house and Mick comes stalking out, also ready to fight with his gun right at hand. Leonard sighs, but turns to face him.

“Maybe you should stay here.”

“Like hell.” Mick sounds pissed. “I wanna know what the hell’s going on, Snart.”

“Frankly, Mick, I haven’t the faintest fuckin’ idea!” But he does. He does have a pretty good idea. He pays attention, after all.

And a moment later, Sara confirms it.

"Metas," she says tersely, listening in on a comm. "All over the city. No sign of Zoom, but Wells says he's doubtless behind it. CIsco says Barry's doing his best and the CCPD is out in force, but..."

"They could use help." He can't help a sigh. "What about..."

"FIrestorm, Hawkgirl... don't look at me, that's a Cisco Ramon special... and the Atom are heading out too." The corner of her mouth lifts. "But Barry says they'd probably do better with some sort of coordination..."

"Peachy." He sighs again. "Well, then... let's go."

The rundown Central City neighborhood where the safe house is located hasn’t drawn any trouble yet, but they don’t make it very far toward city center when trouble finds them. A snarling figure that screams “werewolf” more than anything else bounds toward them, murder in its eyes, and Leonard takes aim, motioning both Sara and Mick back… only to have a red-and-gold blur zip between him and creature, which vanishes as the Flash sweeps it off to parts unknown.

A few seconds later, Barry Allen is back, pausing for a moment with hands on his knees, looking like a man who already needs a break. His eyes are wide and a trifle shell-shocked, and Leonard can’t restrain a twinge of sympathy for the kid.

(In another place, another time, Barry Allen might be a little more cocky about dealing with hundreds of rampaging metas. In a world where Leonard Snart is around to take him down a peg or two… well, he’s just not.)

“Hey,” the speedster finally breathes out, “I’m glad to see you guys. Could use some help.”

“How bad?” Sara comes up beside them, her voice terse. Barry just shakes his head.

“Bad,” he says. “I’m trying, but... the cops aren’t prepared… and I can’t be everywhere at once…”

Sara holds out a hand. “We’ll help,” she says firmly. “We might not be metas, but we’ve dealt with some strange shit.” She glances at Leonard, who doesn’t even try to deny that he’s in, not at this point, although he does throw an eyeroll in for plausible deniability. “But… Zoom…”

“He’s not actually here, as far as we can tell.” Barry glances over his shoulder at a ruckus nearby. “They’re… unorganized. It’s just, just carnage, not any kind of orchestrated assault. Not yet.”

“Then all the better if we get organized,” Leonard observes drily. “Where’re big bird, fire guy and the incredible shrinking schmuck?”

Barry gives him a look that isn’t sure if it wants to be wounded, appalled or amused. “Heading for S.T.A.R. Labs, last I knew. Cisco was going to give them comms.” He taps his. “Cisco? You hear that?”

Sara gives Leonard a pointed look, which earns another eyeroll as he pops his own comm into his ear, just in time to hear Cisco Ramon confirming that, yes, the three had checked in and headed for city center. Sara nods and murmurs an acknowledgment and shoulders her bo, but before they can move, Barry takes another deep breath.

I… I mean, I’m trying to take all the metas I can back to S.T.A.R. Labs to be locked up, but I can’t get everyone,” he rushes to get out. “But this… it’s not normal, such as it is, even for dealing with metas. These people are all working for Zoom, we can’t… I mean, they won’t hesitate… this is…”

Leonard takes pity on him.

“It’s war,” he finishes. “Don’t worry, kid. We won’t kill anyone we don’t have to, but we won’t shy away either. You know the… the three of us… can do what needs to be done.”

Mick, who up to this point has spent more time investigating the security cameras on a nearby jewelry shop (whose glass windows have cracked but not yet shattered), grunts from behind him. But despite Barry’s startled look, he doesn’t say anything more, just falls into step with Leonard and Sara as they start into the war zone.

It doesn’t take Leonard long to realize he might have made a tactical error.

But at first, the confusion is simply so bad that it’s easy to disregard. He uses the cold gun to freeze the pavement under what resembles nothing so much as an actual screaming banshee, whose cry turns into a strangled gurgle as it loses its footing and slides into a Sara Lance on the rampage. Spinning, he takes out an indistinct figure crackling with electricity, then takes a few steps to ice the feet of a… human-sized turtle? Really?... that’s threatening a young cop whose hands are actually shaking as she aims her gun at it.

With a moment to breathe, he does so, looking for Sara and seeing her leaning on her bo and watching him in return. The corners of her mouth lift as she sees him and, after a moment, he lets an answering smile cross his own face, knowing, in that instant, exactly what she’s thinking.

Imagine what we can do with all this adrenaline later…

But that’s later and this is now, and standing there daydreaming is bound to get them into trouble. He turns to check on Mick, whom he’d seen holding off what seemed to be a man made of wood a few minutes ago.

It only takes one good look around for him to regret not knocking Mick out back at the safe house.

Because the city is burning.

Oh, not in its entirety. Not yet. But there are patches here and there, and they’re growing by the minute, even as the sound of sirens grows in unison. The flames from the city are reflected in Mick Rory's eyes, and there's a sort of manic glee there, too. Leonard's seen that look before.

It doesn't mean anything good.

"This is beautiful," Mick whispers, leaning his gun against his shoulder.

"Mick..."

"Snart. Why are we fighting this?” He turns, taking in the chaos with a rapt expression. “Think of the potential. No one would be paying attention to a pair of the baddest thieves out there. We could be kings."

“Maybe for a bit. And then, when the dust settles, you’d wind up working for Zoom. Or dead.” He keeps his tone flat. Factual. “You don’t take orders well.”

Mick frowns and, almost casually, brings his gun down to firing position. Leonard sees Sara take a step toward them, then stop. He keeps his eyes on Mick, though, and she seems to sense they need to hash this out themselves.

Mick is looking at him again, his expression unreadable. “I take the orders I like.”

Leonard snorts. “Don’t I know it. So…what? You figure he’ll just keep telling you to steal and burn and cause mayhem? Because I don’t think so. He wants to rule, after all, and I can’t imagine it’s much fun to rule a wasteland.” He takes a step closer, watching the other man. “And if you don't work for him, if you just accept his boot on your neck…”

It’s Mick’s turn to snort, now, and Len accepts the unlikelihood of that with a tip of his head.

“And if you leave the city,” he points out, “eventually they'll be nowhere left to run. And you’re back to square one.”

He can tell Mick’s listening… if he wasn’t, he’d have already flown off the handle and Leonard would be fighting his friend in addition to dozens of random metas. (A turtle? Really?)

“Come on,” Leonard says, turning the persuasion a little higher. “You hate taking orders and you like busting heads. Help us do the latter and you won’t have to do the former.”

That gets a grunt and a grudging head tip of its own, but the look on Mick’s face is almost… betrayed?

“What happened to you?” the bigger man says finally, sounding a bit bewildered. “Since when have you wanted to save the world?”

The answer bubbles up unbidden.

Since I knew it contained Sara Lance.

But it’s not just that, and he’s simply not up for more introspection right now. In self-defense, he simply snaps back his next words. “Tell me anything I said isn’t true!”

It’s a misstep. Mick’s eyes harden… and the next few minutes could have gone very differently if the universe hadn’t, apparently, decided that they’ve all had enough of a “break.” A howl makes them all start and turn to the sky, heat gun and cold gun pointed toward the figure trailing green fire that’s hurtling toward them….

…only to be smashed out of the air by a figure wreathed in red-gold fire, as Firestorm makes an appearance at last. And with him, Kendra Saunders and Ray Palmer, who alight near the trio as a fresh wave of chaos erupts.

“I mean, I lived in Star City. But this,” says Palmer, staring at the oncoming rush of metas, “is nuts.”

“Standing around talking? Really?” “Hawkgirl” asks with an air of amusement, looking at them. “And here Barry was saying you’d be helping us.”

Leonard doesn’t dignify that with a response. “Incoming, people,” he says shortly, readying his gun and giving Mick one more long look. But the blow-up has apparently passed for now, and his old friend shrugs, moving his own gun from one hand to another before stepping up to his right side.

Sara steps to Leonard’s other side, meeting his eyes briefly before looking at Kendra and Ray. (Firestorm still tussling with the unknown meta in the wreckage of a minivan the next block over.) “If you provide some air cover, we’ll take the ground,” she says. “Just knock ‘em down here if you can.”

Kendra nods, then, readying what seems to be a… mace? … launches herself into the air again, arrowing toward another winged figure that screams in rage. Ray gives them another look, but hesitates for a moment to aim his suit’s weapons at one of the 6-foot-tall insect-like things that are scrabbling toward the group.

Mick steps up to fire his gun at the other, grinning when its exoskeleton proves to be quite flammable. "Hey, Haircut! You still payin' me?"

"Uh. Watch out! Sure? Same rate?" Ray pauses before shooting a dark shape that’s about to launch itself at Mick’s back.

"Dunno. Might need hazard pay."

Sara and Leonard have fallen into the same easy rhythm in which they’ve gotten used to working over the past few weeks, and although he knows the situation is dire, he can't help grinning as they do so.

They just move so well together.

And then the time for thinking about such things is over, and all they can do is survive.

Eventually, they lose track of how long they’ve been fighting. Hours? Days? Weeks? Gradually, the group straggles back to S.T.A.R. Labs for a break and a meal, but Sara can't persuade Leonard to do so until he nearly rolls his ankle again despite the brace, at which point he acquiesces.

They’re both stunned to see Caitlin Snow back from Zoom’s clutches, and Sara, beaming, throws her arms around her friend. Leonard, watching, can’t help but see the way the other woman flinches, and his jaw tightens.

Another reason, he thinks, that this Zoom needs to go down.

They trade a situation report with an exhausted-looking Barry and Cisco, then scarf down a sandwich each (Sara later can't even remember what kind) and a quantity of coffee, followed by a cat nap sprawled together in the same bed Leonard had been stuck in when he’d first woken up at S.T.A.R. Labs.

There’s a strong temptation to burn off nervous energy when they awake, but given the cameras both know are scattered throughout the facility, they abstain. They settle for a quick wash and a weapons inventory before heading down the corridor to the elevator to the Cortex.

But before they can make it there, the elevator rumbles, just a little, and the doors open... and they’re met, not by Barry Allen or one of the rest of “their” little team, but by Harrison Wells.

The older man stops in his tracks and studies them for a long moment, then sighs. "We need to talk."

Leonard lifts an eyebrow and looks past him to the elevator. "So, talk. We got places to be."

"No... really." Wells sighs again. "And it might be better if you sit down."

How do you respond to that? They grudging allow themselves to be herded back to the medical room, although both stubbornly refuse to sit, Leonard parking a hip against the bedframe and Sara leaning next to him, tossing a knife from hand to hand in a judicious show of annoyance.

Wells seems unfazed by the weaponry, but he's definitely uneasy in general. He looks about the room another moment or two before meeting their eyes.

"Before you go back out there... and I'm not going to try to stop you... there's something... a few things, really... you should know. I've told you, through Barry anyway, that Zoom would love to get his hands on you..." He nods at Leonard. "… and I’ve told you why, to some extent. But…”

His eyes flick to Sara, who frowns.

“Spill it,” she says in a low, dangerous voice, tucking the knife away. “And don’t think I… we… haven’t noticed you've left a lot out. But you’re right. Now… now it might really be a problem. We need to know.”

Wells but nods in agreement. He glances away again, then back at them.

“Look,” he says. “I didn't want to tell you this, but... the two of you.” He motions from Leonard to Sara, back. “Well. Your counterparts. They were together. In Earth-2.”

She hears Leonard’s slight intake of breath, but doesn’t look at him. She can’t. Not yet.

"Like... Barry and Iris."

"Very like.” Wells’ gaze is steady, and not without compassion. “There are people who simply seem to find each other in all the worlds we know. I can't say you're two of them. But... I can't say you're not."

He shrugs. "It was one thing, however unnerving, to see Sara here. But when she returned with you, that night... I've learned to pay attention to those patterns. Told Barry he should keep you together, if he could, and help you out." The look in his eyes is distant. "You were each other's balance, on my Earth. I thought it might be the same, here."

All three of them are quiet a long moment before Leonard, ripping his gaze away from Sara, looks back at Wells.

“So, I’m the mayor there. Or my counterpart is.” His voice is quiet. “And Sara? And I did notice you said ‘were.’ ”

Wells sighs, shaking his head, and studies the ground a moment before setting his jaw and lifting his eyes.

"She died. Not long before I came here. She wasn't a fighter, there, at least not anywhere on the same level that you're at," he nods to Sara, "and... she... she was killed.

"And Leo... you don't go by that at all here, do you?" he asks Leonard, who gives a brief, jerky shake of his head. "Well, her death didn't break him, it... galvanized him. Made it so he would never, ever bow to Zoom, not in any time, not in any circumstance.

"And if Zoom gets you..." He points at Leonard. "… he'll try to make you pose as Leo to wipe out the remaining resistance. And if he gets you..." He points at Sara. "... he'll use you to tempt Leo. It would be hard... beyond hard... for him to stand back and let you die, even if he knows you're really not his wife. It all happened so fast before... to see you again..."

He lets his voice trail off. "Well. Better he not get his hands on you, either of you, to begin with."

Sara takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "If Zoom's so willing to use me as leverage... why did he kill... I mean, Earth-2's Sara..."

Wells leaps to the correct conclusion. "Oh, he's not the one who killed her. He'd have much preferred to use her. I'm pretty sure that was the plan.

"Your counterpart's death... it was a mistake, made by a person who's still working for Zoom. She'd be dead now herself if she weren't so valuable to him, and she's going to have something to prove. And she's really why I'm telling you this now."

He takes another deep breath and looks directly at Sara, and she somehow knows what's coming, has suspected some part of it all along.

"It's the Earth-2 version of your sister. And she's already here."

#captain canary #fanfic #central city rendezvous #legends of tomorrow

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townnightwalk · 7 years

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SCRAPPED BEGINNING, FIRST PLOT STRUCTURE

28/04/2017

-bellow includes the first structure plan of the game and first rendition of the beginning of the game, planned and written but eventually rewritten. The structure was also changed as the game proved to be much longer and aiming to complete it all in the time set was impractical.-

- the reason it was rewritten was the beginning felt too slow, so it was cut and redone to be more interesting and mysterious.- It was actually produced in the game engine also before it was scrapped-

- there is also a scene attempting to improve on the previous idea, trying to highlight a characters gender identity and including some issues they have to overcome. this was also scrapped as it still felt unnatural and advantageous. in the final script a simple mention is all that is included so far in the final game. The reason why was to make it more ‘normal’, to make sure his identity is mentioned but not taken advantage of or introduced with an uncomfortable situation/traumatic situation.”

I'm now aiming to complete one act of the game by the due date set by the class, bellow is a break-down of act 1 split into the major scenarios and decisions/consequences of each scene

I've also managed to get through a lot of the artwork, I'm trying to have an array of sprites with different facial expressions for different emotions to work with each scene. Lastly I have coded part of the first scene and put it together in the game engine in order to make sure it works properly with what I had planned- I learned that due to some coding barriers I had to rework how the scene worked, and this has helped me realise what borders I need to work under.

ACT 1

SCENE 1

· Driving through the night

· Drive off away from homeless man

· Hit the monster and pass out

Major Decisions and consequences- if you drive away too quickly the homeless man appears dead

SCENE 2

· Wake up and get carried to shelter by jones and sybil

· Enter church courtyard

· Meet kit

· Monster attacks

Major Decisions and consequences- convincing them the monster is real- if you cant they refuse to believe you, and one goes outside to be trapped and doesn't return until later

SCENE 3

· Experience visions of past

· Ended by kit connecting to monster

Major Decisions and consequences- calm down sybil or kit gets seriously injured, as opposed to just minor injury

END OF ACT 1

Written scenes

First scene

· Start with prose

Sometimes, memories are hazy,

Like lines of heat on a distant horizon,

Wavy and uncertain, tricking you

Sometimes the haze is heavier

Like white noise and static on an old tv

When you turn the dial on your grandparents set

All you see and hear is a deafening mess of white and black

Sometimes, you can find places like this

Liminal spaces, wedged between real life

But very much real, although they feel like a dream

These spaces can confuse you, scare you

Consume you

Beware of those who live there

Your hands feel locked to the wheel you've been clutching for hours. It's quickly obvious that you've been disassociating while driving again, with the streets unfamiliar and no clue of how you arrived here. It floods back as you turn to a sleeping passenger, resting her head against the glass. She doesn't snore, but there is a tiny trail of drool that leads to the mess of hair working as her pillow.

You're shaken from a haze again by a voice coming from behind your headrest.

[jones]: what's the time?

[Prue]: oh um, it's 2 I think.

[jones]: how much farther?

[prue]: til what?

[jones]: you pass out and we crash

[prue]: I'm fine< 1>

[Prue]: fair point< 2>

<1>

You can hear him huff with minor frustration, but he lets it out with his sigh and starts again

[Jones]: we should have a plan for where to sleep

[Prue]: just follow sils lead

[jones]: I'm pretty sure sleeping in your car is illegal

[prue]: well, then we can sleep at the station if they catch us. Problem solved.1

[Prue]: heh, bullshit, if we get booked for that over everything else 2

[jones]: joking?

[prue]: joking. But, you got any other ideas?

[jones]: …none

[jones]: ok look im not sleeping in a car on the side of the road, didn't you go through the high school creepy pasta phase?

[prue]: just because Sybil's asleep doesn't mean you're safe from getting your ass kicked for comments like that

[Jones]: I don't want hook man to kill me

[Prue]: I promise I'll kill you first

<2>

[prue]: I feel like I passed out a few hours ago

[jones]: I can take over driving for a while?

[prue]: you don’t have your license and this is still technically a stolen car

[jones]: sure, if there is a cop prepared to stop a random car at 2am on a Tuesday

[Prue]: another fair point

There's a silence that passes over the car, not uncomfortable, mostly uncertain. You indicate left and line the car up with the sidewalk and turn the key to silence the engine.

Crack the window? 1

Keep the windows closed. 2

1 The heat keeps flowing through the ducts but you crack a window for a source of fresh air. <if this is done, the homeless man gets his fingers through

2 The heat keeps flowing through the ducts as you shuffle in your seat to get comfortable.

[jones]: do you think he called it in?

[prue]: the car? I don’t know. Maybe. There's a chance he didn’t even notice yet.

[jones]: would he call it in on you?

[prue]: he's done it before, this isnt the first time I've taken his car out1

[prue]: what about your mum?2

[jones]: how far did you get

[prue]: like 30km out of town, I was about 16 though, maybe he thought if he didn't he'd get in trouble

[jones]: what do you mean?

[prue]: 16 year old driving off, that’s two illegal things. All I'm doing now is stealing, can't get in trouble for letting an adult run away.

Jones response is measured silence, and looking at him you can tell he's still guessing himself.

[jones]: not the stealing, but she might call you in

[prue]: for the car or kidnapping her innocent son

[jones]: maybe both, she'd probably blame sil for everything though.

[prue]: heh, all she did was enable me, shes as guilty as you

Your eyes sting, with even the faint reflections of the street lamp making them burn. Your body is begging for sleep, and there's no way to fight it off. Jones was right, another 10 minutes and you'd be sleeping in a ditch after being jettisoned through the windscreen.

[jones]: night prue, we'll figure it out in the morning

[prue]: figure what out?

[jones]: every fuck up from today

[prue]: that’s a loooot to deal with

[prue]: night

Your eyelids are shut for the last few exchanges, and you fall into sleep in a matter of moments.

You see no faces and hear only the distant sound of a motor, with pricks of rain hitting your feet. A hand takes yours in the most gentle hold you've ever felt, with soft skin smooth against yours. Her hand is a contrast to yours, soft white and with maintained oval nails too short to hurt as she grips tighter. The motor sound gets louder, and her grip gets tighter. The pricks of rain start to hit your head and the feel like nails that drill into your head with the noise of the engine now blaring in your ears. She lets go and you look up to see a mound of flesh, with lumps and bumps and holes that could only be formed from extreme weather. As you take in the details you can make out a nose, cheekbones, and other facial features. As you make the connection the eyes burst open and stare into you, a person living with a rotting face. They howl and scream and you see rotting teeth that are bared and lunge at your face.

The glass stops them from reaching you.

[sybil]: PRUE!]

You blink again and the face is still screaming and starting to leave marks on your window, a hand grips your right shoulder

[sybil]: PRUE DRIVE!

you fumble for the keys 1

Scream 2

Freak the fuck out and try to punch him through the glass 3

You reach down without taking your eyes off him, fumbling until you find the key. The engine comes alive with a roar and you slam your foot on the accelerator. You screech down the street and stare straight ahead as you fell Sybil clamber into the back see to watch him from the back window.

[sybil]: He fell! Oh shit he isn't getting up. Who the hell was that creep?

[Jones]: I don't know but he must have been drunk, maybe he was a homeless guy with like?

[jones]: a skin disease?

[Prue]: god I think I'm going to be sick

Your body is frozen, you can't move as he keeps clawing at the window and starts to slobber as he yells. Instead of words all you can manage is a weak scream, you've never experienced a genuine scream of terror before.

[sybil]: GOD. MOVE!

Sybil shoves you even closer to the window as she forces herself beside you, turning the key and slamming her foot on the accelorator. You burst forward and you see the mans face skid against the glass with torturous detail, leaving snot, spit and blood along the side of the car

When your fist hits the glass he flinches and staggers back holding his nose, but as he looks up you see he is unharmed. There's a tiny crack visible in the fog on the glass, and your hand feels like someone tried to crack your knuckles until they heard the bones break.

VISIONS

THE SAME PARTY- things go badly for everyone involved, who you pick decides whose point of view scene you see. All end with prues sister and then kit brings them back

Sybil and jones- childhood friends, seperated when jones was homeschooled and because his mum hates sybil

They reconnected online and sybil found out where he'd moved and turned up at the house one day, climbing into the window and dragging him outside to hang out with her

Vision of the party, his first actual party with sybil, he gets disoriented and freaks out

Jones: you told her?

s: told her what?

J that I'm

S a guy? I just used your pronouns dude

S was that the wrong thing to do?

J I don’t know

S sorry, I thought it'd be nice

S its not like shes going to meet your mum and use the right pronouns in front of her

J yeah I guess

s I thought it might be good for you, let you be yourself for a night

S that may have been overstepping on my part

J DD

1 no, its nice.

2 just ask first

1 It does feel nice. I mean, it just took me by surprise is all

S im glad dude, but if I did fuck up you can tell me k

J yeah, ok

2 just maybe ask first, im not saying I don’t trust her or think she might do something but.

S she wont, but I get you and ill remember. We ok?

J yeah we're fine

#progression #writing

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thestandardcitizen-blog · 6 years

Text

Becoming Über

This isn’t a sad story, this isn’t something to make you feel bad for me.. This isn’t a place where you can join the feel bad for yourself club. If you’re looking to join that club, simply just go kill yourself now instead of living a life of fucking saddiness and collecting friends who will feel bad for you.

This story isn’t even for you, I don’t care about you.. Fuck you in fact. I’m going to writing this for myself, its something I need to focus on.. Which is writing, as I suck at the task.

This is mainly a place where I keep myself in check, a requirement to provide myself with lessons i’ve learned..

Today, I’m 1/4 years old, I barely workout, only 100K in the bank.. going down daily, and have sex 2-3 times a month.. I’m not fat, but I’m not able to kill someone with my bare hands... PSA, I don’t wish to kill anyone or think someone is about to attack me. However, humans aren’t as advance as we think. We still scan a room and compare ourselves to others. For woman, they compare their level of sexiness and their ability to catch a mans seed. No, I don’t think this is how woman think, but biologically this is the desire. Men, our desire is to be able to show we’re a strong mate that can provide great offspring and protect.

Now before you think I’m some red pill shell, I’m not. Even fact I can be rarely liberal and emotional. I feel for those who are weak, but I think there are those who are weak due to choice and those who are weak that can’t afford to be strong due to limitations. I’m going to proclare two types of limitations

1. Limiting yourself

2. Natural limitations

Once is a choice, the second one is an what the world has given you. I’m going to declare that most if not all limitations are self limitations and not hardwired into you.

We often like to blame everything in the world on something, but in fact most limitations is you’re inability to blame yourself.

Now, I will admit there are natural limitations we have no control over and didn’t choice. These are the world telling us fuck you, but now we can have the option of telling the world fuck you.

I believe there two types of people with natural limitations, those who allow these natural limitations to limit them and those who don’t. Now, I know what you’re thinking... but Mr SC... I have cancer, I know... it sucks.. It limits you, but than there are those who have it and take it as a sign to live life more. Its a perspective aspect. I bet your saying, but what if I have downs... Ok you got me, but still you can still be the best self you can be.

This isn’t about becoming uber rich, uber powerful, uber whatever... It’s about becoming your Über self ie the best you can be... However, if you’re thinking that your trying hard enough, you’re likely only trying 50% and you have another 50% you can do.

Life limitations are often self limitations.

Let’s start with some assumptions.... before we do that... Let be first say, these are not founded by research, long hard thoughtful reactions to some enlighten trip, or anything.. These are merely a means to an end, you can poke holes at them all day long.. I don’t care, these aren’t meant to be stable thoughts on how life works or how the world works. These are a basic understanding on how you restart your life.

Let be first say this, the world is always influx, everything you believe in now will change as what you believe in is often worldly, and no this isn’t some spiral bullshit about any god... Fuck god.. god is dead.

These are ideas that you should just assume are right, even if they aren’t right. Living on nothing or research is something that will always change. You don’t have time to think how the world works, you only have time to work on how you work. If you focus on what is right and wrong all the time, you’re doing it wrong. The rich and powerful don’t care about what is good or bad, they care about what gets them their goals.

1. Everyone is against you

Even your family and friends. Even you fucking girlfriend or boyfriend.. Even your lovely fucking grandma. They want you to be the person they know.. Not the person you want to become. They’ll lie to you, tell you that they support you, but they will always get in your way. If you need to do something, they will tell you that you’ve changed. You’re not the same person, they don’t understand your desire to be powerful. They simply want you to be who you are... which is your current self. They want the current version of you to just change a little, but not too much. They’ll only allow you to become the person you want to become if they want to be around power. If they want to be around power, they will leech onto you and such all the power from you.

2. You will tell yourself to stop everything as life is hard... its not hard, you’re just weak.

Yes, you’re a weak bitch... You keep lying to yourself, telling yourself your working hard.. you’re not... I know it and you know it too. You’re fucking looking at IG, watching porn, fucking around on youtube.. Thinking Bitcoin will make you fucking rich... Mother fucker its you.. you need to keep telling yourself that you fucking SUCK! You do suck! You’re not a news story, you won’t make it telling yourself you’re going to get lucky. Lucky is only for those who make it one time... Once your trick is over, you fall like the rest. Power comes from power, not luck.

3. Life starts with you (Think like a Ubermensch)

You need to be a fucking human, you need to be able to speak to others, function normally, eat healthy, workout, focus on your brain and relationships. These all create a health person, if you can’t do any of this, the likely hood of you becoming powerful is small. You can’t stay up all night if you can barely walk up the stairs or run a football fields.

Your brain is connect to your body and connected to your habits. We don’t live in a world of powerful arms, but powerful minds... You need to be on your a game, if you won’t be able to win.

I once read once, you have two bank accounts

1. What you think of as a bank account where you have your money

2. Your emotional bank account

You need to grow all of the above

4. Become a warrior

We often think today that we’re not at war, we’re not in the stone age fighting each other senseless for whatever reason. Therefore, we can relax and take it easy. We don’t need to be strong, we’re safe. This is a lie, the brains have taken over and you’re weakness is lack of knowledge. We’re at a different stage of warfare, this one is cleverness. We’re not going to be able to be clever, if the meat your brain is riding is fucking trash. Therefore, you must become a traditional warrior as well as becoming a warrior of books.

Now, I know you’re going to think to yourself.. Well, I bought the #fourhourworkweek... Well, i know you did... You’re a weak bitch that needed someone to tell you how to live. Today you’re weapons are game theory, and no not the dumby guide to game theory.. Today you read people who have researched for years and you read those fucking dull boring shit that no one wants to read.

Prepare yourself for war, both in the body and mind... Be able to cheat a person while at the same time being able to kill them with your hands (note: don’t kill people, we’re just using it as a metaphor)

5. Control Yourself

The world wants to control you, it wants you to buy useless things and do useless stuff. These are the powerful stealing from you, but you need to avoid this. Now please buy whatever the fuck you want, but only do it from the top. When you buy like a powerful person, but you’re buying on loan.. you’re really a fraud. Buy the Rolex, but wait until you can buy 100 of them with cash.

Control your desire to

1. Touch yourself

Don’t cum alone, powerful person makes someone else to make them cum.

2. Control your habits

Stop fucking eating like shit

3. Control your thoughts

You’re thoughts often aren’t the truth, you’re an emotional bitch that can’t control who you are... Become in control of everything within your mind.

4. Define who you are

You might not be the person you want to become, but you’ll have the chance to get there... but you need to first define that person and take action daily

5. Stop fucking downloading apps

Yes, sounds odd.. but this is how we waste more time than you think. If you need a Getting Things Done App... Fuck yourself. All you need is a .txt file or todolist.site.

Delete all your games, social media, etc.

6. Charm

Learn to charm people, learn how to handle people and manipulate them. Once you learn manipulation, you’ll learn how you’re manipulated. However, charm doesn’t have to be about manipulation, it can simply mean getting people to like you by valuing them and caring about them as humans.

7. Stop Lying to yourself

You’ll always lie to yourself about everything... No gym today... Im too tried, I’ll make up for it on Tuesday... No you won’t.. Just fucking do it... You’ll keep planning, but instead of thinking of your plan all the time just do the plan. It’s much easier.

I’m going to end this here... I know this is just random thoughts, but my brain is often random sometimes. Therefore, I throw these thoughts out there and look upon them later to learn from them. I know many of you will think I’m some heartless person with a limited world view. Maybe you’re right. However, im more interested in just saying fuck.. these are the facts that I find are valid right now for me... I can change them later, the choice is mine.

Also, don’t treat people like shit in normal day to day life. Love people and love yourself, but this war is within yourself and not external.

#self impowerment #self improvement

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persephoneandpomegranates · 6 years

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flashbacks and old posts

I’m consolidating blogs so here’s some fun posts from when i was a senior in high school / freshman in college.

Sunday, July 22nd, 2012

whenever i go to the library

i always find the most embarrassing books at the very beginning so then i have to walk around with them while i peruse the rest of the library.

so then i end up grabbing up bunch of random, potentially interesting books to use as an awkward shield so no one can see that i have a stack of comic books and paranormal research and whatnot.

but then i have to check them out. even though we have self-serve, which i always choose, the librarian is always sitting right there just watching so no one tries anything sinister like stealing library books. and at some point i run out of normal books to check out and then i’m just like. … oh yeah tarot cards? i forgot i grabbed that book. that’s for my… dog… because he can read and he’s really into learning about new… nevermind.

#awkward , #library, #tarot cards, #embarrassing books

Monday, July 30th, 2013

procrastination is an onion

i like to create multi-layered procrastination.

instead of just putting off my summer homework or my online byu classes by watching tv, i like to create mind numbing projects like organizing my gruesome music or kindle collections, or cleaning my room.

but then i don’t want to do those either.

so then i realize that it’s almost august and camp nanowrimo is nearly upon me.

well, i can’t possibly organize my kindle and music collection with less than 48 hours to figure out plot, characters, and most importantly, how about genre.

but then.

it’s really hard to just do that.

so i have to get some creative inspiration, right?

so that’s how i ended up on neopets.

i swear, they used to have the most amazing writing boards and guilds. but now things just trudge along on the boards because there are less users. and i am all about the speed and instant gratification because hey, facebook.

but because the boards are so slow i find myself trying to feed my neopets in the meantime.

and then i’m like, oh i never got the pack rat avatar! i better start finding a bunch of useless items to put in my safety deposit box…

and now i have to work my way all the back down to my summer homework and byu classes by completing everything else first. because my neurosis says so.

my procrastination is an onion.

so many layers and it makes me cry.

#onion #procrastination #neopets #nanowrimo #camp nanowrimo #layered procrastination #somebody end this miserable cycle please

Tuesday, December 18th, 2012

captain college

this one time, a girl desperately wanted to go to college.

but then she realized that she would have to do college applications and also ask for letters of recommendation.

that’s a lot of work.

so instead she watched tv and lol’d at the internet.

and spent like half an hour wikipedia captain planet because when i ws younger i thought it was freaking bad ass and captain planet was hot. or something.

the power of heart!

but seriously, can i put this on my application? heh.

#college apps #applications #college admissions #captain planet

Thursday, January 24th, 2013

i am not even a good artist.

cute guy was like oh can i borrow your notes?

so i went to get my notes only to find them covered in doodles.

and not cool ones.

doodles of danny phantom.

…in a slightly suggestive v-neck.

well fuck me it can’t get any worse.

so i go to give the folder to said guy.

and i drop the folder.

papers. everywhere.

i am so slick. and by slick, i mean extremely socially inept.

my only hope is that my doodles are so terrible, that he can’t even tell what i drew.

but somehow, the fact that i also wrote DANNY PHANTOM next to the picture, does not make me feel optimistic.

#danny phantom #bad doodles #aww jeez #socially awkward #awkward #i like tags almost as much as i liek turtles.

Sunday, September 15th, 2013

Jesus, Marie

My life is a bunch of rocks.

No but really, I’m freaking out. I’m going to college in like three fucking days and its going to be my last day at this amazing parrot sanctuary I volunteer at tomorrow. All I want to do is sit in a corner and play with those fucking parrots and probably get bit at because I am not the best parrot handler but I’m learning. Beyond the point.

I just feel so unready. All my friends are out there doing that college thing already or they’re like me and have a few days left but they are so ready. They want to meet new people and go to parties and join clubs and hangout with their new roommates. They want to get out and live life like a college student.

And I just don’t.

I just can’t picture it. Me doing laundry, making my own food, sharing a communal bathroom. I can see myself doing all these things, but it’s like watching a movie montage. It’s not actually me.

I don’t know if I can do this. But dammit I’m not giving up. A teacher told my senior class to look around our classroom and know that while we were all going to college, at least one person would drop out before they graduated. It wasn’t harsh, it was just a fact. The point was that it’s not for everyone and sometimes people learn that too late.

I’m just terrified that person is me.

But you know what? I love school. I love learning. I love procrastinating by organizing all my notes and color coding them when I could actually be studying which would be a lot more useful. I love commiserating with my friends during all nighters or even just glancing at my Facebook and see that twenty other people in that class are on Facebook at that ungodly hour, doing the exact same thing I’m doing- which is regretting that they put off a giant project or a huge midterm.

I am so excited that I’m going to get to grow up and prove to my parents they did a good job raising me, despite my flaws: my laziness, my morning crankiness, the fact that I worry about everything.

I think that’s the problem, that last part. I always worry. My worrying has one level: defcon five. I think about how the supervolcano in Yellowstone could erupt at any moment and kill a gazillion people and also me. A heavy fear that wraps around me and my shaking hands inevitably weaves its way through thoughts like my immeninent demise. But it’s also what I do when I think about the scores on my latest math test might be. There’s no panic gradient with me. Just on or off. And it’s rarely off.

But you know what else I’ve learned about my worrying? Even when it is absolutely warranted, like when I get that math score back-and yep I saw that coming- I hardly flinch. I mean, “Ouch, I am not so good at this calculus thing” goes through my mind, but I accept it and move on ridiculously fast, considering how much worry I put into it.

So that’s what I’m doing now. Taking everything and turning into the apocalypse.

College isn’t going to be what movie montage me expected. It’s going to be me figuring out how to talk to my roommate and still sucking at talking to boys and probably using too much laundry detergent and most definitely awkwardly trying to feed myself at 3am because I’m suddenly starving.

It’s not going to be easy. It’s going to be different than anything I’ve ever done before.

But that’s okay. Because I can’t just spend my life sitting in my room wishing I was 16 again and my biggest defcon five worry was never getting my license and ending up like my aunt who’s trapped walking and riding a bike or bus everywhere.

I can’t just stay where I am right now forever. That wouldn’t be living; it would just be existing.

What I’m saying is dammit. My life isn’t just going to be a bunch of boring rocks. It’s going to be a fucking kaleidoscope of experiences.

I’m going to go to a college rager, even though I won’t drink more than two sips of lightweight beer, just because if I don’t go, I’ll always wished I had. And you know what? Maybe I will get drunk and seriously regret it in the morning but at least then I’ll know it’s not for me, rather than just being too afraid to find out.

I’m going to join the pre veterinarian club even though I’ve heard it’s cutthroat and that scares me, I have every right to be there. And I’m definitely joining some nerdy fan clubs. I’ve always wanted to learn how to play D&D.

Who’s going to stop me? Myself?

Not a chance.

#jumbled mess #college #fuck yeah #worries #i can do this #even if i need to take a few xanax #i got this

Sunday, September 15th, 2013

Whew

I feel a lot better now. Like I’m fucking capable of being alive or something.

#post rant #much better

Wednesday, September 25th, 2013

First Week of College

Great first week at UW.

So my life is pretty cool and all my worries about college have been unfounded. That being said, I did shrink some of my cotton shirts in the dryer doing laundry for the first time. Also, the lotion I brought for my legs is something I’m definitely allergic too. Oops. I have two little hives on my legs and both my shins are super itchy. Guess who is buying new lotion tomorrow?

I did almost kill myself in the shower today, though. I went to shave my legs for the first time, but because the shower is just a tiny little rectangle, I had to get creative with my acrobatics. Because I went to a yoga class today, I felt like maybe I could put my leg up on the wall and do a modified wall sit type of thing. So I did that and it seemed like a pretty good idea except for the fact my leg was a little lower than I meant it to be. No problem, I can just hitch my leg up a little higher and then we’re in business.

That’s where my shower took a turn for the worst.

As I was lurching my leg up, I lost a bit of my balance and my back slid down a little. Now I’m stuck. Well, shit.

So I struggle a little more and realize there’s no way I’m getting out of this gracefully. But I can hope, so I decide to slide slowly down the wall of the shower until I reach a point where I can adjust myself and stand up.

Of course, showers are fucking slippery when wet.

For a brief moment, I thought I was going to die.

Whooosh. Clunk. Fuck.

So now I’m sitting on the floor of a nasty ass public shower, butt naked of course and feeling sad about myself because that kind of hurt. I missed my head and whatnot so luckily none of my roommates found me bleeding and unconscious and also naked in the shower an hour later, but still. My dignity is bruised.

Anywho, since I’m already sitting on the floor of the gross shower and the five second rule has gone and past, I just decided to wallow in my self pity and shave my legs on the floor.

It actually worked out quite nicely except for the fact I probably have butt herpes now.

#how i almost died in the shower #slippery bathroom #college life #don’t shave your legs like i did #also you can’t get herpes like that but you probably can get something else horrible #can you get herpes in your butt

#newphonewhodis #memoir

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xottzot · 7 years

Text

2017-4(APR)-18 -Tuesday.

Even very late at night, the criminal aboriginal brats were roaming about the streets.

They were on bicycles. No lights on them ever of course at night and riding all about. Police are powerless.

Then there were torches (flashlights) all about as the criminal children were wandering all about. And they were also at the school property. And lights moving about the seperate school outbuildings on the Koongamia school oval.

And despite what you may think, there is never a day that goes by when a loud motorbike doesn't go screaming around the area ON the roads and nearly all the time they are unlicensed offroad motorbikes that can never be registered for road use anyway.

Here's a little snippet of last night (Monday 17-Aprol-2017)....Late at night a road motorbike came from the Koongamia shops direction from ? -- It went around the block, past the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD(s), and as it was at the end of Kalara Way street and about to go onto Clayton Street, an invisible in the darkness aboriginal with a torch (as they constantly are now doing), was in the school carpark and flashed their torch at the motorbike (as a signal?), and the motorbike turned BACK into Koongamia along Clayton Street. The motorbike was not on any journey but doing a circuit going around and about Koongamia. (as if searching for any Police presence)

All in the darkness at night there were aboriginals and dark figures wandering about. Occasionally they would go into the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD, but sometimes not, they would continue to wander all about just like the abos do at any time of the night or day.

Later at night, VERY late at night, it was vehicles on the streets moving about but it was also motorcycles. More than once a motorbike went loudly flying along Clayton Street and into Koongamia and by the sound of it it was one of the multitude of offroad unlicensable for road use motorcycles.

The weather report (crystal ball predictions would be far more reliable), had earlier stated that rain would be arriving later the next day, leding onto days of massive thunderstorms and very heavy rain, later however and as usual, they cancelled the rain. And usually before any rains, out would come shitheads in cars tearing around. They also go tearing about on the roads when the roads are slippery and wet with the first rains having 'fun'. So predictable. And it was like nobody had told them the revised forecasts or, more likely, they simply don't give a shit about anyone or anything. (sound familiar) . Shitheads from all about were tearing about on the roads coming from other places into Koongamia. However they did not go about the Kalara streets. That was kinda odd.

Maybe a recent Police shooting dead of a shithead wielding a shotgun in nearby Darlington kept things down?

Eventually the hard revving cars faded out, but motorbikes would then roam around at random itinerant times.

Of course there's no Police presence. They've got other many many places to hammer down that have gone out of control. And a lot you never ever hear, or read about in the news. Such as this hellhole.

Eventually all that faded away after midnight. And apparently THAT is the time that you're supposed to go to sleep acording to all the shitheads 'rules', the shitheads that wander streets, or on illegal motorbikes, or in cars, or whatever. Everyone has to live by THEIR timetables of shittyness.

I was up and awake in all of this because my own bodyclock has gotten out of whack from countless months of all this shit. Last night on Monday, everytime I took dear Sam & Max outside for needed ablutions, they would hear all the noise too.

And they also heard other dogs barking in the area. A roaming big black dog of the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD was freely roaming about and crapping in peoples yards, even yards of people who have dogs for protection andor comfort.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tuesday, 18-April, 2017........

False calm.

The rented corner house (the one that has had its fence smashed full of huge holes by aboriginals of the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD), they had a recent house-inspection by the very gentle innocent owner woman last week. And it prompted some 'cleaning up', including from inside the house. Some smashed junk was put onto the street verge outside the front gate depite there being no council bulk collection happening until near the end of this year.

The pile of junk was neatly stacked up and positioned on the street verge outside the front gate of the rented place.

And of course that attracted criminal feral aboriginals like flies around shit.

The pile has moved at least 4 times now and been re-tidied up again and again. But its a losing battle. Anybody would know that. And the criminal aboriginals carry off all manner of things no matter what, let alone stuff almost literally 'offered' to them. So the pile has actually diminished in amount. Some of it was thrown about the streets. But then was later picked up again and carried off by more feral aboriginals, carelessly dropped and thrown about the place, and gradually the pile has NOT been collected by the council but instead has being diminished by being carted off and thrown about by aboriginal shitheads.

I've long since noticed that aboriginals literally think it's a free-for-all for EVERYTHING, and their tiny destroyed minds just latch onto the fact of council collections (which only happen once a year from street verges and have done so for many years), but the aborignals just expect the regular rubbish bin truck to take it all away at their whim. When it of course doesn't, the aboriginals do the utterly predictable (for them) thing by adding MORE rubbish. - This is what passes for 'normality'.

Dear Fliss and I used council collections as a resource to gather materials we could not afford to build our gardens with. We would politely ask residents places we went to if it was okay to take anything they had put out, and we would ALWAYS re-stack everything neatly and often better than it was before. -- Feral shitheads nowadays don't give a shit about anything or anyone and they do none of that.

It is so completely changed for the WORST. Everything has. And everyone is alredy forgetting how everything was normal and reasonable and friendly just a year or so ago. Everything social is no longer cohesive. Perhaps the only thing 'cohesive' might be the glues the shitheads take andor steal and sniff.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tuesday is being a false calm so far as I write this before noon.

The Swan Shire regular ordinary council rubbish truck has been. There has been a sense of 'normality' of calm about the area.

But I wouldn't know too much about earlier because I was totally exhausted and only got about 4 hours of terribly broken sleep. Dear Sam & Max were also exhausted. Wandering shitheads about at night does that.

What usually happens on any public holiday that falls on a Monday, is that all the shit by shitheads and criminals that usually occurs on a Monday STILL happens. So despite what you may think, all that shit DID still happen.

And Tuesday, as usual, is like a day of relative 'calm'.....until something else occurs.

But there never is a 'timetable' for what the shitheads do nowadays. They've since altered all their 'timetables'. It was becoming too predictable and Police and authorities could utilise that against them. -- Now anything happens at anytime, on any day.

A FORECASTED PREDICTION:......when it eventully DOES rain, there will be a re-occurence of all the criminal aboriginal shitheads on the streets, using them as extended 'playgrounds'. It's what happend all last year in the wet months and the ONLY reasons there weren't fatalities of the shitheads was the quick response actions of innocent drivers (including bus drivers), that the shitheads careened about in front of.

Police visits and warning and so on did nothing. Other authorities did nothing. (even when witnessing for themselves in front of their OWN EYES things like an aboriginal toddler in diapers wandering about on the roads in front of them). All they did was tut-tut to the criminal aboriginals. And then magically more things would appear for them as if trying to placate them or distract them from doing the shit. What they in effect was doing was 'rewarding' the shitheads into doing more and more.

After all, there is a massive amount of money (millions) being bandied about and constantly covering-up incidents in the guise of 'helping' the criminals.

Me telling you now of what WAS actually going on would have no credence. Except you can look back in this blog of hell of mine and see for yourself.

P@14:08--18-April-2017---I love you Fliss. -- Sam & Max have had a terrible time of it all today. Max got very vicous because of despair. Sam got growling because Max was growling. Max got worse because Saw was growling. Endless feedback loop. - I am in massive pain. Going to lay down with despairing Sam & Max.

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