#so if I can persist and work and change things and turn cogs around me why cant you

[tricktster]

the twilight series suddenly makes 100% more sense if you read them under a specific premise that, i contend, is heavily supported by the text:

Much like Amy’s diary in Gone Girl, the books in the Twilight Saga are verbatim reproductions of in-universe diary entries carefully and deliberately created and curated by badass unreliable narrator Bella Swan as a means to achieve immortality.

Prerequisite assumptions:

1) Bella actively and persistently wants to become a vampire, both diagetically and (I contend) non-diagetically. The average vampire novel format often fails to capture realistic human behavior in one highly specific area: the protagonists are frequently mortals who grapple with the choice of whether to become a vampire. This is stupid, because being a vampire would obviously be dope as hell; particularly in the Twilight Universe, where vampires are not required to take a human life to survive, and indeed, have the capacity to live full and rewarding lives while integrated* into the human community.

(*integrated-ish; see Assumption 6)

2. There are too many coincidences for Bella to have encountered the Cullens by sheer chance, only to be the ONE person that Edward can’t live without (due largely to the novelty factor of not being able to read her ding-dang thoughts.)

3. Diagetically, the Volturi don’t even know Bella’s psyonic gifts until New Moon, but we also know that the Volturi scour the globe for recruits to enlist into the protection of their governing body.

4. Nobody wants to be a voiceless cog in a bureaucracy.

5. Nobody, and especially nobody in high school, wants to be a high school student forever.

6. Vampires in twilight are, as a group, cartoonishly terrible at disguising their true nature.

7. Forks is a backwater town approximately 3.5 hours away from the biotech hub of Seattle.

7. George W. Bush and Dick Cheney can eat my farts and they deserve to be preserved in this snapshot of an innocent author’s mind slowly unraveling.

Proposed timeline:

In 1993, there is a key system meltdown at a improvised biohacking startup in Seattle, rendering all innovative genetic modification experiments into a puddle of brown sludge that nobody can figure out how to dispose of per Federal regs, since they don’t even know what it is.

The broke founder of the startup, who for the purposes of this timeline I will call Jeff Bezos because that’s who it was, eventually grows tired of all the discussion about what to do, and just pops it in a barrel, drives a few hours out of town, and dumps it in a pond.

Bella Swan, a small child, is hanging out at a park with her family friend Jacob Black (and a ton of his friends) when they all decide to wade in a slightly murky pond. Thereafter, they are transformed.

Bella grows up as a normal, highly powerful mutant with a +20 to deception checks and wisdom saves. She lives in Arizona, but up until 2002, summers in Forks. While in Forks, she picks up on the local lore about a family of vampires who don’t eat people.

Because Forks (population: 17 + Charlie’s mustache) is boring, Bella bones up on the only interesting thing about it, i.e. Vampire Hometown baybeeeee.

In 2000, George W. Bush gets elected president, and his evangelical politics and general bumbling ineptitude informs Bella’s opinions on authoritative governmental entities.

In 2001, the Cullens make their intention to move back to Forks known, but they take a while because they need to pack all their stupid graduation hats and volvos, etc.

Later in 2001, a psychic Volturi scout rolls through Forks to ensure that nobody within living memory recalls the Cullens, and notices an anomaly in the psychic field.

The scout goes to confront Bella about joining the Volturi, and Bella immediately clocks him as a vampire, because vampires in the Twilight Universe fucking suck at looking/acting human. This leaves the scout in a bind: she’s too valuable to kill, but she’s a pre-teen, and therefore too young to be transformed per Volturi authority.

The scout warns her he’ll have to kill her if she discusses the existence of vampires with any human. He then tells her he’ll be back in five years, and begins to sweet talk her on how good life will be when she’s a vampire, beautiful, immortal, powerful, etc. Bella asks if she has to kill, and dude says “nah, actually there’s a bunch of vegetarian vampires who are moving back here soon. Fucking nerds, but otherwise they’re doing well.” Bella is all about becoming a vampire, because Bella is a rational actor.

Bella moves to Arizona, and as the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq are unjustifiedly initiated, she recognizes that while she DOES want to be a vampire, she does NOT want to be a foot soldier in any war that she can’t support. She needs a plan.

In 2004, Bella is watching her step-dad’s minor league baseball game when it occurs to her. On her own, she’s a target for the Volturi, but if she had some people to watch her back, she might be okay. Of course, nobody fucks with the Volturi on behalf of some rando human. She’ll need to con her way into a coven who’ll have her back and also give her that +10 to constitution via vampiric transformation, which she desperately wants because she’s a rational actor. And where are the non-volturi vampires that might have her back? Fucking Forks.

Bella moves to Forks in 2004, and upon seeing the Cullens, she immediately clocks them as vampires even though they left their “we’re all vampires” booty shorts at home, because, as previously discussed, vampires in the Twilight Universe fucking suck at looking/acting human.

Bella notes that all the vampires but one are paired off in heterosexual bliss, and takes note of the straggler as a potential vehicle to vampyrdom.

Bella figures out that Eddie can read everyone’s mind but hers, because Edward Cullen fucking sucks at looking/acting like a human who can’t read minds. Bella further observes that Eddie has a huge undead boner for her.

She’s found her mark. Now she just needs to convince him that she’s better off as part of the coven than on her own. Problem: Eddie’s a self-pitying insufferably guilt-striken perpetual adolescent who keeps himself busy by feeling sorry for himself because he’s a vampire, angst angst angst etc etc. Also, I think he’s Catholic, so add some more guilt in. She’ll have to win him over by convincing him that they’re destined to be soulmates.

What does a vampire used to having complete insight into everyone’s mind but his crush’s want? A method to know what she really thinks of him. Bella begins writing a “diary” knowing that there’s no way in hell Eddie won’t sneak in and read it. So she Gone Girls it, and begins to lay a trap to lure him in. That first diary? Twilight.

This was just in the movie but a stoner chases her around with a worm on a stick. Nothing to do with this theory, I just like that part of the movie. Where’s my spinoff about that guy?

Eddie won’t give Bella what she wants (eternal life) by the end of book 1, even though she asks him to EXTREMELY POLITELY. Time to hit the diary with some more promises of undying love.

Bella reconnects with her old friend Jacob and the rest of the Mutated By Jeff Bezos Boys. Alas, they cannot turn her into a physically powerful sexy immortal with a bite, so she’s still stuck with plan A) win over a whole family of vampires with big Mormon energy. It’s the long con.

Edward’s angst abruptly takes a swing towards terminal. He’s absolutely your classic sadboy, perhaps because Bella now has one (1) friend that he knows about.

When Eddie begins to drift away on account of Angst, Bella conjurs up a secondary love interest who, coincidentally, is ALSO a sexy supernatural entity, and is much less coincidentally just Jacob.

We should establish here that Edward is like a 107 year old white dude and so even though Diary!Bella pretends not to see it, Metatextual Frame Story!Bella knows that dude is super racist.

Jacob Black is three things: 1. Like Bella, a mutant (although one with shapeshifting abilities), 2.one of Bella’s oldest and most trusted confidants, and 3. down to clown on an elderly teenage vampire who keeps stereotyping him. Sure, says Jacob, I’ll take the form of a werewolf. He seriously thinks we’re all just beastmen, huh? Hey look at me now, I’m Regis Philbin because this is 2005 and Who Wants to be a Millionaire is still sort of relevant. Sick.

Edward does not like that Bella has one (1) other friend. Bella and Jacob plot to use this to their advantage and lure Edward back on the wings of jealousy.

Eddie gets himself into trouble on account of Angst and poor communication, so Bella has to go rescue him from himself/the Volturi.

Aro finally meets her and gets to test her powers, which impress him. Now she’s back on the fucking radar.

I forget everything that happens in Eclipse, so i have chosen to omit that part.

Eventually she extracts a quid pro quo from Eddie; i’ll marry you if you turn me into a dracula.

We don’t really call ourselves that, Wet Blanket Cullen replies, entirely earnestly.

Bella gets married at 18 in 2006, and Eddie starts to backtrack his promise about changing her. This won’t stand.

Well, look, he’s an elderly guilty catholic/mormon teen who probably still uses super racist terms, but she’s stuck on honeymoon island, he has certain angles that work for him, and seriously what are they gonna do but fuck? Bella’s alternative is listening to her “husband” drone on about his interests, which are almost certainly Car, How Do I Post a Minion Picture on Facebook, and Licorice Used To Be a Lot Cheaper in the Good Old Days.

Whoops a fetus.

Bella recognizes that she’s GOT to have this baby: time’s running out, and Bella knows that at least two of the Vamps in her coven will cut ties if she terminates or otherwise fails to carry this baby to term because of the conservative religious subtext. She’s going to have to stick it out for 9 months, even though it’s a risky call.

Bella gets what she wants after giving birth. “My time as a human is over, but I've never felt more alive. I was born to be a vampire.” That’s a direct quote. Except now she’s got a (pretty cute and easy) baby that she desperately wants to protect from Turning Into A Vaguely Religious Cullen Dressed Head To Toe In Cream Colored Wool.

Bella decides to fake her own death and escape with the kid and Jake so they can form i guess a detective agency. Bella will get “killed” by the Volturi, move to Sydney, and open up shop, and Jake will take the kid after her a few months later.

They’re gonna need a reason why Jake gets the kid though, and there’s only one reason to do anything amongst the Cullens: a heterosexual love interest with a super problematic age gap.

Jesus, Jake sighs, is Eddie really going to believe I’m in romantic love with your actual infant? Does he really think that little of me?

Yup.

Bella tries to draw the Volturi’s attention.

Works too well.

The Cullens call up all their vague acquaintances, who are at least kind of fun. Particularly that one dude who keeps getting angry about British conduct during the American Revolution.

Well, fuck, now the Volturi are bringing an army to fight their ragtag army of Vampires Who Are Cool And Interesting Enough That We Can Safely Presume They Are All Definitely Gay. Bella can’t let those guys die, they’re the first actually compelling vampires she’s ever talked to.

Bella saves the day because she’s OP.

All the Cool Vamps start packing up to leave and Bellz almost goes with them, but the Cullens would just keep sending missionaries after her if they knew.

Bella finishes her fourth journal with the vague warning that the Volturi are still out there somewhere and they miiiight just try and get her.

Two days later, she stages a scuffle and gets the fork out of Fucks. Her journals are the only clue.

Sirius Black and baby nessie follow once edward has stopped sobbing into his cream colored sweater and moved on to Extended Power Pouting.

Bella recruits her own army of fledglings.

Bella stages a coup against the Volturi and succeeds.

Bella sits on the iron throne with a hot lady vampire on each knee and they all kiss and stuff.

Nessie I guess forms a post punk band?

Edward dies from aspiration of a brussel sprout that he ate because he just wanted to feel something.

Charlie and Billy get married.

Charlie’s mustache develops a cult instagram following, providing them with a modest retirement income.

Jacob shapeshifts into Bill Murray and is always crashing weddings.

Bella’s stepdad is off in the B plot this whole time winning the world series with the help of a kooky angel.

There. Fixed. My soul is at rest.

[2996-sana]

Lucky - Jisoo

request: Please can you write some fluff/angst where Jisoo finds out her girlfriend used to have a bp stan account and had Chaeyoung as her bias so Jisoo gets jealous/insecure and starts acting differently? Thank you!!!

i kinda went another way but it still has the same gist, really ! only that the reader didn’t have a stan account hehe 

p.s. i have received the requests for rosé and jennie but i will be doing a lisa request first since i haven’t put one out for her yet but i am still accepting requests atm

You would like to consider yourself lucky. You were currently in a very happy and healthy relationship with someone who you share an effortlessly rock-solid bond with. Someone who appreciated you for you and prioritized you over everything else. Your friends would always point out how smitten you both were but you never did pay it no mind – they could only wish to have a love as resilient and fun.

Oh yeah, and the person in question? Kim Jisoo. One of Korea’s most sought-after idols.

No big deal. Adding the fact that you were a fan before getting into a relationship with her, you would say lucky is an understatement.

If it wasn’t for your close friendship with Soojoo (who is one of Jisoo’s best friends in the industry) and your persistence to be introduced to the girls of Blackpink, you wouldn’t be where you are today. It took the right timing and the decision to come over at Soojoo’s apartment, only to find out she already had a certain guest over, for fate to lay a hand. Though your constant flirting also definitely helped create a permanent spot for you on Jisoo’s mind.

It wasn’t everyday someone had the guts to flirt with her and usually when someone did, she never had any trouble turning them down. She had bigger and better things to focus on: her career and her Blinks. She had no time for silly relationships at her young age, especially since they were at their peak, but there was something about you that kept her coming back.

That was over a year ago and the relationship that you both have built still leaves everybody in awe. You give majority of the credit to Jisoo who knew exactly how to handle you. She dealt with everything with a maturity you could only wish to have. Although you’d like to think it was already rubbing off on you. Something that your parents will forever be grateful to Jisoo for.

Your girlfriend carried with her a very laid back and goofy disposition. You’ve always admired how calm she was during times when you’d expect the exact opposite and loved her ability to bring comfort to those who weren’t, especially to her own members. Even her fans noticed how caring and protective she became when needed. You always chalked it up to her being the eldest in the group and feeling the need to be the one stable thread that kept everyone together. She was always the strong one when everything seemed to be falling apart.

But this also meant not a lot of people get to see Jisoo the way you do. Because with you, she allows herself to completely break down the walls she surrounds herself with when she’s at work. Gone is the Kim Jisoo of the biggest girl group in the world. All you were left with was Jisoo – your girlfriend.

The first time you saw Jisoo cry was a turning point in your relationship.

You and Jisoo were lounging on your couch on one of her few days off. Both of you were directing your attention to the documentary playing on the TV when you all of a sudden hear sniffles coming from your right. You immediately face the girl you have been seeing for a few months and see her fixing her gaze on her lap whilst she played with her fingers. Her eyes glazed with a glassy layer of tears. As she blinked, they dripped from her eyelids and slid down her cheeks. She bit her lip tightly in attempt to hide any sound that wanted to escape from her mouth

“Jisoo?” you hesitated. At this point, your mind was going wild with the probable reasons why she was suddenly upset. Your brain cogs turning trying to remember if you did anything wrong or maybe she was going to break things off. Of course, she was too busy and didn’t have time for a relationship. Why did you even think this would work out?

“Y/N…” Jisoo’s eyes moved slower and always more down-cast, skimming the floor, rarely raising to eye level as more tears started to fall. It was in her voice too, quieter, with a meekness that wasn't usually part of her speech patter. This was very unlike the Jisoo you were used to. She was sad in a way you hadn't seen before. She brought her hand to intertwine yours together, taking a deep breathe to calm herself.

“Talk to me,” you whispered. “You never have to be afraid to open up to me.”

It was this that made Jisoo’s tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. The muscles of her chin trembled like a small child and it took everything in you not to start crying too. It was not the time.

“I’m just tired,” she mumbled. “There’s been a lot of stress about the album process being delayed again and everyone is just so drained.” she leaned backwards, letting her head fall on the back of the couch and closing her eyes. “I’m so tired.” she emphasized, wiping her tears. You let her cry for a few more minutes waiting until she calms down as you put your arms around her shoulder.

“I will never understand firsthand what that feels like as an artist to go through that but I want you and the girls to know that so many people believe in you,” you consoled. “This is what you guys have been waiting for and you deserve it and more. The process was never gonna be easy but I know that you all love what you do and it will all be worth it because of that and your fans.”

She let out a shaky sigh before turning to face you. She studied your face silently for a second before giving you a small smile. “Thank you. I honestly went to see you tonight because I didn’t wanna be upset in front of the girls. Not right now when they’re all feeling really down too.”

She leaned forward to wrap her arms around you in a hug. “You’re my safe place.”

Before you, Jisoo didn’t think she could ever find a soul, aside from her members, that would ever understand the things that brought her pain.

To be the one Jisoo was able to turn to during her toughest moments was a badge of honor you would gladly wear everyday for the rest of your life.

Right now, you joined the Blackpink girls in their dorm chatting over some chicken and soju. You were all on your fourth bottle and you could sense how tipsy Rosé was becoming, but you knew Jennie and Lisa weren’t too far off either.

“I think its so funny how Y/N was annoying Soojoo to introduce her to us and now she’s practically married to Jisoo unnie,” Jennie giggled, raising the shot glass to her mouth.

Both Rosé and Lisa apparently thought this was the funniest thing ever because they laughed their little hearts silly.

“Oh my god!” Rosé squealed. “I was your bias remember?”

You hid your face on your hands as you shook your head, “Jesus, you’re super drunk.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact I was your bias!” Rosé laughed, putting her head on your shoulder.

“Yah, unnie, look!” Lisa slapped Jisoo’s shoulders, staring at her wildly. “Rosé is trying to steal your girl.” she pointed towards the both of you.

Jisoo only raised an eyebrow towards you before giving Lisa a smile but you knew Jisoo well enough now to differentiate a real smile from a fake one and that did not look genuine at all. Before you could scoot over to your girlfriend, Jennie decided to dig your hole a little deeper.

“I never knew that before Y/N. Why Rosie?” Jennie glared. “Why not me?”

“Yeah! Tell us!” Rosé exclaimed clapping her hands.

And that started a round of chants asking you to tell them the reason.

“Just tell them, babe.” you hear your girlfriend say. You look at her searching for signs not to but she only nodded in encouragement. You knew she was only doing so to appease her wasted members.

“I…I don’t know,” you stammered, looking at everyone. “She just caught my attention, I guess. That was way before I knew you guys though and what you were like. Everything is different now.”

“Well duh, you’re like in love with Jisoo unnie now,” Rosé drunkenly whispered.

You smiled at her words pulling Jisoo closer to you, “That I am.”

•

It was around 3AM when you and Jisoo arrived at your apartment after putting the drunk girls to bed. You and Jisoo decided to spend the night together since it had been weeks since you saw each other. You’ve noticed how quiet Jisoo had been after the whole Rosé being your bias thing and you couldn’t help but worry and wonder why. You’ve caught her in moments of reflection for the rest of the night before remembering where she was and trying to act normal.

You were in bed when you find her uncharacteristically quiet and staring up at the ceiling.

“I know you’re not okay,” you deadpanned, laying on your side to face her. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s stupid,” she sighed as the words slowly made its way out of her mouth.

“You know I would never invalidate your feelings, right?” you questioned, reaching up to caress her cheek.

“Why me?” she said quietly. “I always asked myself that when we first started dating. Whenever Soojoo mentioned you, she would always talk about your obsession with Chaeyoung and we’d both laugh about it. When I first met you and you started showing interest, I thought you were only using me to get closer to Chaeyoung.” she laughed but you could sense no humor behind it.

You wanted to interject and tell her how wrong she was but you sensed she had more to say.

“So, I put you in arm’s length because of that. I didn’t think you had the best intentions towards me. It was okay at first until I really started to get attached to you too and I thought ‘great, I like someone who is probably into Chaeyoung’. Chaeyoung was your type and I couldn’t be more different from her. I was so confused and didn’t know what your deal was. I started to get really scared when I realized you had to meet the girls.” she recounted. “I was scared that you’d start to like her for real and that she was what you were after all along. I felt lost and confused, but at the same time happy and certain that I really wanted things with you to work out.”

She turned to face you for the first time since she started talking, “I was wrong. You had the most genuine intentions towards me and you proved that time and time again. I guess that tonight, that irrational fear just crawled back to me like a shadow of what I used to feel and that freaked me out.”

After that, you slipped off the blankets and got on top of her, grabbing her face and bringing it closer to yours. “You are the best thing to ever happen to me, Kim Jisoo. I fucking mean that, you know that, right? The moment we met, we clicked, you know that. You were all I could think about the moment I step foot out of Soojoo’s apartment. The only reason Rosie was my bias was because I didn’t know any better. I literally knew jack shit about you guys but the more I got to know you, the more I knew I wanted to be with you. It was never about Blackpink, it was about me getting to know another human being that I adored and respected.”

You were looking down at her probably looking at her like the sun came out of her ass but Jisoo wasn’t complaining. “You curse a lot, you know?” she giggled.

You rolled your eyes, “I come up with that great speech and you choose to talk about a couple curses.”

She leaned up and pressed your lips together.

“You’ve never failed to make me feel that, Y/N. Thank you for putting up with me when I get bouts of insecurity and doubt.” she smiled. “You know I’ll do the same for you too.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna be doing that a lot more for me because you guys are only going up from here,” you pouted. “I’ll have more people to compete with especially with your new drama coming. Your male lead better watch out, whoever he is.” you scoffed.

“There’s no competition in the first place,” she flicked your forehead. “And if there was, it would be a no brainer to know who would win.”

You smirked from above her, “Sure win?”

She crinkled her nose at how corny you were but gave you the biggest smile nonetheless, “You know it, babe.”

#blackpink #blackpink imagine #blackpink scenarios #jisoo x reader #jisoo imagine

[marvel-and-mischief]

His Saving Grace Part VII

Title: His Saving Grace - Maxwell Lord x F!Reader Words: 3600 Warnings: conversation about feelings, reader talks about her dark thoughts in the past, kissing, detailed description of a panic attack Synopsis: You meet with Diana to discuss Maxwell’s options.

His Saving Grace Masterpost

The Smithsonian looked a lot different in the day, the imposing building loomed over you as you walked up the front steps. You knew it wasn’t the museum that was making you nervous, but the job you had to do and the woman you had to meet. 

Maybe you should have ran the idea by Maxwell first, but a part of you knew he would be hesitant. After what you had seen on the night of the gala, Maxwell had been uncomfortable in Diana’s presence, and Diana was confrontational when she walked over to him. They obviously weren’t friends. 

But it was literally your job to get Maxwell back into the workplace, and if this didn’t work, and you didn’t manage to convince him that it was the ideal solution, then you didn’t know what you were going to do. 

You asked for Diana Prince at the information desk and was told by the man at the desk where she worked, pointing in the general direction of a staircase (you think) before answering a ringing telephone and dismissing you.

Trying to find your way to the Anthropology Department without a helpful staff member, or a map, was confusing and you ended up walking back on yourself more than a few times but you got to Diana’s office eventually. 

You were about to knock when the door flung open, Diana pausing just before bumping into you, a look of confusion on her face as she tried to remember where she’d seen you before.

“Diana isn’t it? I’m Maxwell’s friend, we met at the gala,” you said casually and stuck out your hand towards her, reminding her of your name. She took it after a moment, shaking your hand and politely laughing. If she was wary of you being at her place of work she didn’t let on, instead she ushered you into her office and offered you a cold coffee which you gladly took.

“Look, I don’t know what Maxwell has told you but as long as he stays out of trouble, he will never hear from me again.” 

Diana sat on one end of a velvety soft, maroon loveseat and you took a seat on the other end. 

“Actually, I’m hoping that won’t be true,” you began, cradling your cold coffee on your lap, “you must have some idea that Maxwell is struggling. Black Gold is bust and it will never recover. No one will hire Maxwell Lord, for obvious reasons.”

“I don’t see how I can help him. I sympathise, but Maxwell is reaping the repercussions of what he sowed. You can understand why no one wants to help him,” Diana spoke to you gently, offering you a sympathetic smile. 

You sighed as you looked around her office, a poster of human evolution, an old wind instrument that reminded you of the recorder you were taught to play at school, a long piece of parchment paper with what you could only guess were hieroglyphics or something similar. And on the wall next to where you sat was a diagram of a stone of some sort. 

“Maxwell got his stone from here, right?”

Diana nodded but said no more.

“A Dreamstone?”

“Whatever Maxwell has told you, it needs to stay a secret.”

“Diana, the whole world saw him use it.”

“The world saw a madman,” at your look of offence Diana shook her head, “I’m telling you what everybody saw, not who he actually is. And that is my point.”

You weren’t going to get into an argument with Diana about the Maxwell you knew, not right now anyway, so you bit your tongue.

“But he has ties to this place.”

Diana thought for a moment, starting to understand that you weren’t going to give up easily. She slowly nodded, eyeing you curiously and weighed up how much she should say about what had gone down with Maxwell and the Dreamstone.

“Maxwell only has ties to the Smithsonian because he wanted the stone. He befriended a gemologist, Barbara Minerva, to get to it. He succeeded and then he became the stone. And I presume you know the rest.”

It took you a second to realise that Diana had said “he became the stone” but you filed it to the back of your mind for another time. Or maybe you would never bring it up. If you wanted Maxwell to get passed this part of his life, you would have to stop asking questions eventually. 

“So let me get this straight, because he was the Maxwell Lord he could just walk into this place and take what he wanted?”

“Well, he was very persuasive. Plus he gave a lot of money to the department as a bribe.”

“So he’s given money to the museum before?” The cogs were starting to turn in your head as you realised it could work in Maxwell’s favor if he’s already shown support for the Smithsonian.

Diana tilted her head as she watched you, trying to work out what you were planning. She was clever enough to realise almost instantly.

“You can’t seriously be suggesting that Maxwell work here?”

“I am! He’s already proven his loyalty to the museum through a donation I assume was considerable. I’m sure it helped the museum a lot.”

Diana hesitantly nodded, knowing the money was much larger than any benefactor had given to the museum in years. She sighed in frustration and stood, walking over to her desk to rifle through a pile of papers. You placed your forgotten coffee on the table and followed. 

“I know he can’t work in any of these departments. But he has a business degree, he’s got the experience. He’s someone the museum would jump at the chance to have work here.”

Diana laughed cynically.

“You said yourself, nobody will hire him, what makes you think we will?”

“I said no one will hire Maxwell Lord. But what about Maxwell Lorenzano?”

Diana looked up from her papers and gave you a quizzical look.

“He wants a fresh start and I think I can persuade him to leave the Lord name behind.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, wondering if you were overstepping. Maxwell had said to you at the diner that he wanted to be more like his old self, maybe this was the way forward? 

It wasn’t unlike you, as a lawyer, to be persuasive to get the results you wanted, the results you thought were best for your clients. But Maxwell wasn’t a client, not in your heart. He was your friend, and hopefully more in the future. Were you being too pushy, putting out the idea of him changing back to his birth name? Even though he’d suggested that very thing to you at the diner? 

You were starting to realise why it was frowned upon to begin relationships with clients, it made everything so complicated, it had you second guessing everything you were saying and doing whilst working for them. Because it wasn’t about getting results for the pay check at the end of the job, it was about getting results for the man you loved. It was about wanting the best for him, wanting him to be pleased with you and everything you were doing for him. 

“Are you okay?” Diana’s voice jolted you out of your spiralling thoughts and had you laughing awkwardly.

“I’m fine,” your smile didn’t quite meet your eyes, but you cleared your throat as you pointed to the papers she was looking through, silently asking her to explain.

“There was a list of job vacancies the boss sent around to everybody on Friday, it was here somewhere… a-ha!” Diana produced the single piece of paper with titles and one-sentence job descriptions on it.

“Is there anything appropriate for Maxwell?” You asked hopefully, going on tip toes to try and peep over the paper. Diana shook her head as she read down the page, coming to a stop right at the bottom.

“Although…”

“What is it?” You asked, a little too forcefully. Too impatient to wait a moment longer you snatched the piece of paper from Diana’s fingers and skimmed through the titles until you saw the very last one.

“Do you think-“

“It’s perfect,” you shot Diana a beaming smile, “will you-“

“I’ll let the boss know I have the perfect guy for the job.”

-

Maxwell nervously shuffled from foot to foot outside your apartment door, holding a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands, similar to the ones you wore on your dress the night of the gala. His polo shirt felt too tight on him all of a sudden, and he wasn’t sure if he should button all four buttons or leave it at two. 

The issue wasn’t that he had never been to your apartment before, or even that he was visiting unannounced, but entering into a new relationship. With you.

He loved you. He realised that at the gala when he watched you charming potential clients, giving away business cards until you had ran out of them, it had filled him with such a sense of pride that you had walked in on his arm. It wasn’t a slow realisation either. It was when he was seeing people notice you, laugh with you, agree with your advice, and then he thought yes, see this brilliant woman who can make your dreams come true? I love her. 

It didn’t scare Maxwell, quite the opposite. He was excited. Because you both worked so well together already. It was all so natural, the way you joked with him over lunch, or grabbed his hand in the middle of conversation. And the kissing.

Maxwell hadn’t kissed anyone the way he’d kissed you in… forever. It was a kiss that lit a burning flame in his heart, warm in every way but persistent and wouldn’t burn out until you reignited it with another. He felt the ghost of your lips on his, even in his dreams and he would wake up with a smile on his face, ready to start the new day in the hopes that he would see you soon. 

He felt young again, in a wide eyed, fresh faced kind of way. Like the world was his for the taking because he had you by his side to keep him grounded but also an encouraging voice in his ear telling him he could do anything if he just believed in himself. 

Maxwell wished he’d met you so much sooner. Before the seed of the Dreamstone had been planted in his mind and he’d gone on his reign of self destruction. He thinks you would have been able to stop him, to persuade him that he had everything he needed already. You could have helped him through the financial difficulties of Black Gold. You would have saved him. 

Maxwell shook his head of that thought and readjusted his collar. He couldn’t change the past. He could only look to the future.

He knocked on the door, realising he probably should have called before coming over. You might be working, or have friends over, or not be in at all-

The door flew open and you appeared, holding a wooden spoon in your hand and wearing an apron tied at the front covered in what looked and smelled like cocoa powder.

“Maxwell? What’re you doing here?” You asked, surprised to see him at your door.

“I should have called ahead, I apologise-“

“Don’t be silly. How many times have I come over to yours without warning? Come in,” you pointed towards the living room with your spoon and closed the door behind you. 

Maxwell let you lead him into the open plan area. It was smaller than Maxwell’s apartment but the layout was almost the same. The furnishings however were trying to be less impressive, more rustic with dark, wooden furniture instead of brightly colored plastic. It was comfortable and had a homely feel to it that Maxwell didn’t realise he liked until now. There were papers strewn across the coffee table, bookshelves actually filled with books unlike his own, dozens of blankets laid across the top of the couch, coffee stains on side tables. It was a perfect mix of your head and your heart. Smart and kind. Hard working but also relaxed. 

You went into the kitchen area, pulling open the oven and the smell of freshly baked chocolate cookies filled the air. Maxwell’s stomach rumbled but luckily you were too busy to hear. It was then that Maxwell remembered the flowers in his hand.

“I brought you flowers,” Maxwell placed them on top of the island, perching on a stool.

“Thank you, that’s very sweet,” you picked them up and went searching for a vase in the cupboards. You found a decanter with a thick neck and decided that would be sufficient, filling it with water from the tap and placing the flowers inside to display on the countertop.

“I wanted to talk to you about some things,” Maxwell cleared his throat and interlocked his hands together on top of the island, “about my future.”

“Yes,” you nodded, taking a seat on a stool opposite Maxwell, “I think I have a plan, the next step, maybe even permanently if you agree to it.”

“Can we talk about us first?”

You froze in your spot, ready with your speech that would sell your plan to him, but you could see he had come over for a reason and decided to let him talk first. 

“I said I wanted to take things slow, and I still do. But I need things to be clear, out in the open so you know where I stand,” as much as Maxwell was nervous he kept eye contact with you, “I love you. I’m falling in love with you. These last couple of months have opened my eyes to how lonely and alone I am. And I’m not using that as an excuse for what I did but if I am going to succeed in being a good father, a good man, then I need you by my side. I think the world of you and everything you’ve done for me and I promise to try and make it up to you in any way I can.”

Your smile grew the more Maxwell talked, hearing everything you’d hoped he would say. You were on the same page, wanted the same things. Maxwell patiently waited for you to respond, even though the butterflies in his stomach were threatening to painfully burst out of him.

“Maxwell Lorenzano, I love you too.” You laughed, tears welling in your eyes, your chest full of happiness that things were looking up for the both of you. 

You wiped at your eyes with the bottom of the apron you were still wearing, then placed both your hands over the top of his.

“You say I’ve helped you but you have no idea how much you’ve helped me too. I was at the bottom of a very dark pit of self hatred before I met you. And although I was getting better, I don’t know what would have happened in my life if you hadn’t called me that day. I’m not sure if I believe in fate or destiny or anything like that but I believe we met each other at the perfect moment so we could help each other through the worst time of our lives. And if we can pull each other out of that then we can do anything together.”

Maxwell’s watery smile grew as he stood from his stool and walked around the island to stand next to you. He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss to the top of your head, before placing another on the tip of your nose that had you giggling. You stood and used the sudden closeness to press a bold kiss to his lips, hands running through his hair as his hands came to naturally place themselves in the dip of your waist.

Maxwell pulled away to place small kisses to the corner of your mouth, tasting the remnants of the chocolate mixture you must have tasted whilst baking your cookies. When he got to your jaw he felt your hands on his shoulders gently pushing him away, an apologetic look in your eyes.

“I still need to talk to you about the plan I’ve put together.”

Maxwell groaned, keeping a hold of your waist as he playfully tickled the soft skin of your neck with his nose.

“Maxwell…” you chuckled, enjoying this playful side of Maxwell.

“You’re ruining the fun,” Maxwell removed his head from your neck and pouted. You tried to take him seriously but he looked like a grumpy child who had been told ‘no more sweets’. You kissed him sweetly on the cheek and motioned towards the couch in the living room. 

His sigh was overly exaggerated as he took a seat on the couch. You had taken off your apron in the kitchen and sat next to Maxwell with a yellow sweater on, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. In amongst the rustic aesthetic of the living room, you looked like actual sunshine to Maxwell. 

“I tried to find you a job that I thought you’d like, that wouldn’t necessarily be easy but would use your previous skills and still challenge you.”

You took a piece of paper from the side table and handed it to Maxwell. It detailed a job description, the kinds of jobs he’d be taking on and with what departments, and the key skills he would be using. Maxwell nodded the whole way through until he spotted where he would be working.

“The Smithsonian?” He asked, unsure and a little take aback that this would be the place you’d choose considering his connections to the place. 

“Yes, it was much easier to find you a job at a place you’d already given a sizeable donation to,” you explained gently, you ran your fingernails along the lines in the palm of your hand, a nervous habit as you tried to gauge Maxwell’s reaction. 

“I don’t know,” Maxwell re-read over the job description, which he was comfortable with, the annual salary that was more than enough to look after himself and Alistair, the job title ‘Financial Manager’ was more than suitable for his qualifications, everything was perfect, except the place of work. He would run into Diana probably, and was Barbara still working there? That would be awkward. That place held bad memories, Maxwell was trying to move away from his past not shoot head first towards it. 

“Look, you would mostly be working in the offices away from other departments, Diana said-“

“You spoke to Diana?” Of course you had, how would this job be practically given to him without so much as an interview without Diana’s help? Maxwell eyed you suspiciously, wondering how much she’d told you about the incident, how much you’d told her about Maxwell’s situation. He trusted you, he loved you, there was no love without trust but he suddenly felt like the walls of your apartment were closing in on him and the piece of paper in his hand was shaking as though an earthquake was ripping through the building.

“Maxwell?” He heard your voice but it was so far away, where had you gone? It was like listening to someone shouting from the other end of a tunnel, had you left him? Maxwell’s eyes were closed tightly shut so he couldn’t see where you’d gone but he felt something soft and warm on either side of his face, and then his face was being pressed into something fluffy, it felt like how your sweater looked, was it you? 

Your voice was getting clearer and his breathing was slowing down though he didn’t remember breathing so fast, why was he struggling to breathe? 

Your hands, he could feel them now, moving over his shoulders, along his back, up and down his upper arms and the fog was slowly lifting from his mind, from his lungs, and there were tears falling from his eyes. And all he could hear were your apologies and his name leaving your lips. Your sweet lips that felt so good against his own, they were touching his ear as you spoke soothing words, he concentrated on that and then everything was clear. 

He cautiously pulled away from you, just enough to see you looking at him full of concern. Maxwell placed his large hand against your cheek and guided you to press your foreheads together as he continued to breathe through the panic attack. 

“I’m so sorry Maxwell,” you whispered but Maxwell shushed you softly, stroking your cheek, your hair, your neck until he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and brought you into a hug.

“You are perfect and have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, holding you close until he believed you were truly there and not a hallucination created out of his panic stricken mind, “it just all suddenly felt very real. I think I’m scared.”

He felt you nod against his chest, your hand was running up and down his side, soothing him, comforting him in any way that you could. You were nearly lying on top of him; Maxwell had leaned you both backwards, his head resting on the corner of the couch as he tried to relax and prevent another panic attack.

“I’m here. You don’t have to do any of this on your own. Or at all, I’ll call Diana and tell her the job isn’t suited to you. We’ll find something else.”

“No,” that made you look up from his chest, searching his eyes for what he meant, “it’s the kind of job I’d be good at. I just have to remember that I’m not alone.”

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, holding each other close, but by the time you tried the cookies they were cold. 

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @galactic-rhi @phoenixhalliwell @thewayofthemandalorian @computeringturtle @lesbianlena @shikin83 

#His Saving Grace #Maxwell Lord #Maxwell Lord fic #Maxwell Lord x Reader #WW1984 #Wonder Woman 1984 #Pedro Pascal

[pollenat]

“In cold flesh” | kyh.

➛ DAY6′s Young K. Angst. Vampire!au. All the pretentious talk is meant to be pretentious - they’re artists from the past. I’m too tired to put this in specific time period, sorry friends.

➛ Word count: 1763.

Melancholy, the feeling of emptiness because you miss something so much, your spirit is hollow. Nothing, other than the past, seems able to fill the void. But the past, as wonderful and overtaking as it is, has to be left to its devices. So you’re here – on a gondola, making your way down dark canals – to say the goodbye.

“So… You’re here for a lover?”

Lover is a distant word. One that makes you want to lean forward and ponder upon its meaning. But years of looking for answers are long behind you. The now is shaped like waves of salty water.

“I suppose – you could say so.”

The gondolier cannot take his eyes off of you. Enchanted, he stares at a profile that death made perfect. But he doesn’t know that.

“You’re a strange one.”

“Wouldn’t be first time I’ve heard something similar.”

Someone looks out a window. It’s a woman with hooded gaze, staring at your gondola in clear interest. The gondolier salutes in her direction. There’s no response. He stops the boat shortly after.

“And so we’re here. Shall I-“ The young man doesn’t finish his question, maybe realizing how desperate he sounds. But you’re not the adventure he’s looking for.

“There’s no need. Goodnight.” It’s a not-so-rare sight of someone who wants more than just the payment.

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue. Just takes a moment to stare at your back before pushing the gondola forward. The staring woman is gone, but will certainly be back soon.

You look around, searching for a number someone has given you, and the red door with mold – a characteristic to simplify your task. It helps. Your eyes take in the piece of wood that’s  almost useless. A rat must’ve bitten through what mold has weakened. There’s a hole at the very bottom of the door.

“Coming, coming!” Muffled voice calls after your second knock. It’s hesitant.

Footsteps resonate. Light peaks through the hole. Mechanism creaks. The red door opens.

Were you unaware of the time, you’d have said you made a mistake. But you’re not. After all, a ghost of the past is what you are. And neither the few starker wrinkles, nor the greying hair are a surprise. The shock factor is Younghyun himself – an image hidden under Father Time’s sands. Have you smoothened the skin on his forehead, everything would come in place.

“You’re dead.” Is a fact, in more ways than one.

Moonlight reflects in his widened eyes. Fear? He cannot be afraid of your picture, rather the meaning – perhaps that he has gone mad. But that’s just an assumption.

“I can’t be seeing a ghost!” Door is pushed to close. You stop it with a foot. The meeting hurts. Not enough to force you into retreat, but enough to fill you with relief – you aren’t dreaming.

The wood doesn’t press. Younghyun lets go of it to take a few steps back. You walk inside. When the door closes, you offer him a doubtful gaze. The man doesn’t look convinced by it. But the emotions on your face are surely real. The little of what you have inside twists and tightens. So much you are afraid of.

“I was there when they buried you.”

A sunny day you remember well. Light comes from a room to your right. You need a better look at what the present is made of. Apparently, Younghyun’s life is a product of metals. Cogs, screws and other things you cannot name lie in a disorder on desks and shelves. Some are packed into boxes, but the chaos inside causes you to turn around. Younghyun follows you inside. On the wall behind him, a number of clocks hangs. They all tell different time.

“In an empty coffin?”

“It wasn’t empty…” But the seed of doubt is already sown. “I saw it. I saw your body. I must have.”

“You’ve always been a little bit old-fashioned. According to the standards, of course.” One of the clocks is shaped like a boat. Younghyun retreats as soon as you step closer to have a better look at his other creations. “You’re a clockmaker now? Not the life of a party among elites? Not even a poet appreciating the blooming flower of old age?”

He sighs in disbelief. Now, in this specific moment when his chest rises and falls, he looks exactly like you remember him, signs of age excluded.

“Those were… dreams of a child. I’ve got what I need here – a job, home and… something to keep my mind occupied.” Younghyun wants to say more, but his meaningful gaze at your features speaks instead.

“I’ve noticed pages filled with words. You’re still writing. You haven’t completely given up on the child’s dreams.” Your words cause him to look behind you, at his desk. Shame crosses anxious features. A part of his life he’d rather hide, even from you. Perhaps especially from you.

“It’s a way to help me figure thoughts out.”

Younghyun limps towards the desk. He isn’t quick in collecting the notes, though he seems like he wants to be. Dark eyes get lost in their words, scanning paragraphs, putting them together. After a second or two, he forgets he was meant to hide the words from you. Footsteps have no effect on him. Breath on his neck does.

“Through the hardships, he prevailed. And wondered, and missed. And lived, and died-“ The card is turned around, so you cannot finish, but the other side shows more words.

Now he’s desperate to escape the art he created. A drawer opens and closes, barely containing stacks of carelessly abandoned papers.

“As I said – figure thoughts out. Doesn’t mean they have to make sense.”

You’re standing in place, barely apart. His hands rest on the desk’s counter, scarred and thin. He used to play. Wrote quite a lot for his mother’s piano, but there’s no instrument in the work space.

“The world could benefit from your writing.”

A scoff. “Are you some ghost of regret? Here to trouble me, because I’ve promised it to the face you stole?”

So he does think you a mare. Truth be told, were you in his place, you’d have thought so too.

“If anything, I’m the one fighting regret.” You step away, to breathe in scents that aren’t just him. Younghyun turns around to follow your departure.

“Why?”

“I abandoned you, didn’t I?” He says nothing to that. “When I woke up, you were gone. And so was my life. Nobody to turn to, nobody to ask. I watched my family go on. So much has changed. My reappearance – was too scared to show a corpse’s face. And so I left.” Eyes abandon your gaze. “But I suppose you can never escape the past. Ended up looking for you. To say goodbye – had you gone on, to see for myself – had you decided to stay.”

He pushes the paper-filled drawer to make sure it stays there. Fingers drum against wood nervously.

“Looks like neither of us escaped, though you’re just my mind’s creation.”

Again. He speaks to assure himself. You cannot be a thought – you’re the one thinking.

“Insufferable. I’m standing right in front of you – in cold flesh. Undead, thinking, being, and you cannot just agree with it.” The man shakes hid head. “If it’s that difficult, then just act like I’m real for the duration of my short stay here.”

“Then what do you want?” Though the words are just words, the phrasing feels back-stabbing. You miss his poetry and all-telling essays. “Why are you here?”

“To make amends. Say goodbye and see you one last time.”

“And where are you going next?”

“I’m not sure. Since the moment I died, this” You motion between your pair. “has been my ultimate goal. I wanted to say goodbye and apologize.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who-“

“-who needed me and was abandoned.” He goes silent.

One of the clocks announces midnight. You cannot be sure it’s precise. The one next to it shows afternoon. Another mechanism says the midnight will happen in a matter of minutes. It’s infuriating.

“How do you live with this chaos?”

A look back at the clocks causes him a smile. The first one you’ve seen so clearly since… A distant point in the past.

“Weirdly, it helps me.” At your confused gaze, he continues. “I’m not contained by time. Day and night – that’s all I know. Work happens when it happens. Sleep overtakes me when I’m tired. I eat when I’m hungry.”

The only thing in Younghyun contained by time is his body, because the soul you’ve fallen in love with long ago is still the same. You take a glance at the limping leg.

“So much time has passed, and yet – you didn’t change a bit.”

“Same could be- should be said about you.” Conflicted, the man walks up to you. “Am I really not dreaming? I’m dead, is that right? There’s no other explanation.”

“You’re not dead, Younghyun.”

He sighs at your cold touch on his hand. Neither of you break the physical contact, though you’re afraid the ice may hurt him. It’s sad – hating the thought of parting and being aware that prolonging the contact will inflict nothing but more pain.

“This is impossible. It’s like you froze in time.” Now, he’s eager to explore more.

The other hand skims your face, ignorant to the cold, persistent to every valley and hill. As if he was a creator, drawing your face to his design. Warmth travels up and down, left and right, stronger and weaker. His eyes follow where the fingertips lead. You want him to go on, do this forever, but Younghyun stops. Fingers close on your chin to angle it properly.

“You know, I’m so happy I stopped caring for the truth.” His eyes search your for the sparkle of life behind glossy surface. “Even if you’re some demon, here to gamble my soul, I can give it to you – for a moment longer in your presence.”

“Keep your soul. I just wanted to make sure you still had it.” Now, his smile is what you’ve wanted it to be – meant for you, caused by you and real.

Younghyun cannot shake the grin off, though he tries. In his attempts, the man lets go of your limbs to embrace you instead. He doesn’t comment the cold. Palms spread on your back, nose hides in your skin, lips breathe warmth. You can even feel the fluttering of his eyelashes.

“Then let’s not say goodbye again.”

Another clock announces midnight.

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

#pollenat writes pretentious shit only and is annoyed by herself too #day6 imagines #day6 x reader #day6 blurbs #young k imagines #young k x reader #young k blurbs #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #kpop blurbs #boy groups #pollenat's shorts

[odysseywritings]

70s Duet

On stage, the duet synced up well, and the crowd loved the eclectic sounds of soul-rock-funk-electronica-progressive-disco couple labeled Crystal Wolf. Formed by Donna Crystal and Stevie Wolf in the late 60s, the two embarked on a musical odyssey marked by lyrical clarity of the times while mystifying their rocky partnership.

His rumbling baritone could be rough in heavy songs or gentle for bluesy songs. Her strong contralto could soar in energetic songs or sultry for ballads. His feathery blonde hair danced with her dark curls as they taunted and teased the audience. Gyrating movements, casual handling of each others’ bodies, faces and lips a mere inch away from a fantasy’s kiss.

It was a decent marketing ploy for an increasingly cynical music industry. Burn-out from the war’s end, economic anxiety, and a transforming shift in values turned people to more harmless music in the charts. Still they were persistent in writing catchy songs that caught up to musical evolution and the cultural zeitgeist. By 1977, the creative chills thawed over, and the two were steadfast partners in professional and personal lives. The clinchers being management whittling away at their ideas and obsessive fans, making the two even closer in solidarity.

A long day of touring left the two exhausted as they went inside their trailer, Donna wearing a sparkling gray dress and Stevie with a blue shirt with a revealing V line down his chest. They spent a minute composing themselves and doing their usual activities so their voices could rest. Yellow floral walls, wooden decor, and a small TV filled the spaces as they relaxed.

“Stevie, how do you feel about the punk thing going on?” Donna asked with a frown. “Just sounds like a racket to me.”

“It’s got energy, I dig it!” he exclaimed behind a calm exterior while reading a magazine called The Village Vox. “We were a racket when we were their age. It’s just more edgy and neurotic.”

“Edgy... Like a blender to my ears,” she laughed and puffed a cigarette. “Hon, are we getting too old for this?”

“With what? Music? What else is there to do? At least here we can have fun with our cog in the machine life. Not going to end up like my dad working in some West Virginia mine shaft.”

Donna made a noise and reflected, looking over at the window showing a violet and navy blue sunset.

“I think we’re a perfect age, Don. We know what works, we can use our bodies well, and I got enough length to cover my hairline,” he chuckled.

She joined in with a softer tone, sill with some worry in her face.

“You are at a perfect age, Mr Chest-hair. I know for a fact that I’ll be a year away from being too old and some little young thing will take over.”

“Don,” he put his hand to her wrist and held it up. “You look the same now as you did when we made our first record. And your voice shows up better than mine, too.”

She smiled with a gleam in her teeth and lovely wrinkles showing around her lips and eyes. “Thank you, baby. It’s just tough to shake off sometimes.”

Stevie nodded. “Oh, and one more thing! Had another song idea come up. It’s about the Panama Canal opening up-”

“Uh uh!” She busted out laughing and tapped his wrist. “We can do the Voyager song, but you’re pushing it!” Stevie couldn’t help chuckling with a wide grin.

The two sat in comfortable silence in each other’s company, watching the ongoing news until Donna told Stevie to change the channel until The Jeffersons came on. It was a calm humorous escape from a life very few imagined they’d ever need an escape from.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #flash fiction #realistic fiction #historical fiction #romance if you want to see it #njm

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

Worm 2.7 - In which we go to the lair of the teens

As I agreed to join the Undersiders, there was some whooping and cheering.  I felt a touch guilty, for acting under false pretenses.   I also felt pleased with myself, in an irrational way.

Taylor is in a maelstrom of very confused emotions right now. She feels guilty for betraying them all in the future...them being these  villains she shouldn’t feel bad about betraying if she was truly 100% convinced they needed to be taken down. She’s also pleased and doesn’t know why...

I think she’s using the “I’m gonna betray them later” as an excuse to herself for becoming friends with a group of villains, and as a way of saying “I’m still totally on the heroic path”.

She’s pleased for being accepted into a group, for having non-hostile non-fatherly people to talk to who aren’t actively judging her.

On the other hand, I think there’s a part of her that truly wishes to be recognized by the hero community and have this be her first big act, so the “betrayal” isn’t a complete self-lie. It’s just...

It’s complicated

“Where do we go from here?” Lisa asked Brian.

“Not sure,” Brian said, “It’s not like we’ve done this before.  I suppose we should let Rachel know, but she said she might work today.”

“If the new girl is okay with it, let’s stop by our place,” Lisa suggested, “See if Rache is there, celebrate the new recruit and get her filled in.”

“Sure,” I said.

Oh so we’re gonna visit their hideout! This plan is going very well for our protagonist.

“It’s just a few blocks away,” Brian said, “But we would stand out if you came with in costume.”

I stared at him for a moment, not wanting to comprehend his statement.  If I took too long to respond, I realized, I would ruin this plan before it went anywhere.  Whatever the case, I could have kicked myself.  Of course this was the natural progression of events.  Joining their team would mean I would be expected to share my identity, since they already had.  Until I did, they wouldn’t be able to trust me with their secrets.

Well, yeah. If you’re gonna join them, your secret identity is a necessary sacrifice, for trust reasons and so no-one can rat their secret identities without also being exposed (ahem...)

I could have blamed the lapse in judgement and foresight on my lack of sleep or the distraction of the events earlier in the day, but that didn’t change matters.  I had maneuvered myself into a corner.

Fact: You were emotionally and mentally compromised with everything that happened recently

Also a fact: This plan you made has so many critical points where it could fail that experts say it could have already failed and the world isn’t aware of it yet

“Alright,” I said, sounding calmer than I felt.  I hoped.  “This costume is kinda uncomfortable under clothes.  Can I get some privacy?”

“You want an alley, or…” Lisa asked, trailing off.

“I’ll change here,  just take a minute,” I said, impulsively, as I glanced around.  The buildings on the street were mostly one and two stories tall, with the only buildings taller than the one we were on being the one half a block away, and the one right next to us. There weren’t any windows on the building next to us with a great angle for seeing me change, and I doubted anyone on the distant building could see me as more than a figure two inches tall.  If someone could see me change out of costume and make out enough details to identify me, I’d be surprised.

Where is a phonebooth when you need one? Probably Protectorate trademarked though, so let’s not risk a lawsuit

As the three of them headed to the fire escape, I pulled out the clothes I’d stuffed into the backpack.  Armor panels aside, my costume was essentially one piece, with the exceptions being the belt and the mask. I kept the mask on as I undid the belt and peeled off the main costume.  I wasn’t indecent – I was wearing a black tank top and black biking shorts underneath, in part for extra warmth.   Silk wasn’t the best insulator on its own.  I stepped into my jeans and pulled on the sweatshirt, then rubbed my arms and shoulders to brush off the mild chill.  I put my costume and the plastic lunchbox in my backpack.

I already mentioned this, but the individual parts of this whole operation (such as the costume over clothes, backpack, etc...) are well-executed. It’s just the thing as a whole that seems incredibly dangerous and reckless.

It’s like a perfecly calibrated mechanism made of interlocked cogs and masterful precision that just ends up punching a tiger in the face with you right in front of it.

I felt a stab of regret at not having chosen better clothes to wear than a loose fitting sweatshirt and jeans that were too big for me.  That regret quickly turned to a pang of anxiety.  What would they think when they saw the real me?  Brian and Alec were good looking guys, in very different ways.  Lisa was, on the sliding scale between plain and pretty, more pretty than not.  My own scale of attractiveness, by contrast, put me somewhere on a scale that ranged from ‘nerd’ to ‘plain’.  My opinion of where I fit on that scale changed depending on the mood I was in when I was looking in the mirror.  They were cool, confident, assured people.  I was… me.

Taylor is not only worried about unmasking because her secret identity is going to be compromised, she’s also worried because the bug mask is a mask in more than one way.

When she went out in costume, she distanced herself from Taylor the human with her personal problems. She became Taylor the cape with cape-related problems, and it was, in a way I think, a moment of respite for her.

So now that she’s taking off her mask, her “bug” persona, she’s going to expose her normal self to people belonging in the “powers” part of her life. She’s gonna merge those realities she doesn’t want to merge.

I stopped myself before I could get worked up.  I wasn’t regular old Taylor, here.  In the here and now, I was the girl who had put Lung in the hospital, accidental as it was.  I was the girl who was going undercover to try and get the details on a particularly persistent gang of supervillains.  I was, until I came up with a better name to go by, Bug, the girl the Undersiders wanted on their team.

She seems to be clinging to her “Bug” identity though, and distancing herself from normal life again.

If I said I made my way down the fire escape filled to the brim with confidence, I’d be lying.  That said, I had managed to hype myself up enough to get myself down the ladder, mask still on, costume in my bag. I stood before them, glanced around to make sure nobody else was around, and then pulled off my mask.  I had a few terrifying heartbeats where I was half-blind, their facial features just smudges, before I put on the glasses I’d had in my bag.

This glasses beat, where she is momentarily blind until she puts them on again, fits perfectly with the “scared without her persona, so she puts it on again” thing I was just mentioning.

“Hi,” I said, lamely, using my fingers to comb my hair back into order, “I guess it wouldn’t work if you kept calling me Bug or new girl.  I’m Taylor.”

Using my real name was a big gamble on my part.  I was afraid it would be another thing I would be kicking myself for five minutes from now, much like the realization that I’d have to go uncostumed.  I rationalized it by telling myself that I was already in this wholesale. Being truthful about that one thing might well save my hide if any of them decided to do some digging on me, or if I ran into someone I knew while in their company.  I figured, hoped, that by the time this whole thing was over, I could maybe pull some strings with someone like Armsmaster and avoid having them leak my real name.  Not impossible to imagine, given the level of security around some of the prisons they had for criminal parahumans.  In any event, I would cross that bridge when I got to it.

She used her real name though!! So at least a part of her wants to retain some part of her true self, that’s good.

Also yeah, it’s best not to stack lies on top of lies, or something’s bound to slip.

Alec offered the slightest roll of his eyes as I introduced myself, while Brian just grinned.  Lisa, though, put one of her arms around my shoulders and gave me a one-armed squeeze of a hug.  She was a little older than I was, so she was just tall enough to be at the perfect height to do it.  What caught me off guard was how nice the gesture felt.  Like I had been needing a hug from someone who wasn’t my dad for a long time.

Oh taylor you poor thing. You are definitely doing this for the friendship. Worst secret mole ever, but I love you.

We walked deeper into the Docks as a group.  While I had lived on the periphery of the area my entire life, and while most people would say the neighborhood I lived in was part of the ‘Docks’, I had never really been in the areas that gave this part of the city such a bad reputation.  At least, I hadn’t if I discounted last night, and it had been dark then.

Seems like Brockton Bay has a very divided higher and lower class.

Also you are still dividing your different personas a lot, saying that it’s your first time coming here, and then thinking “Oh well, but the other time was in costume so it doesn’t count”

It wasn’t an area that had been kept up, and kind of gave off an impression of a ghost town, or what a city might look like if war or disaster forced people to abandon it for a few years.  Grass and weeds grew between slats in the sidewalk, the road had potholes you could hide a cat in, and the buildings were all faded, consisting of peeling paint, cracked mortar and rusty metal.  The desaturated colors of the buildings were contrasted by splashes of vividly colored graffiti.  As we passed what had once been a main road for the trucks traveling between the warehouses and the docks, I saw a row of power lines without wires stretching between them.  At one point weeds had crawled most of the way up the poles, only to wither and die at some point.  Now each of the poles had a mess of dead brown plants hanging off of them.

There were people, too, though not too many were out and about. There were those you expected, like a homeless bag lady with a grocery cart and a shirtless old man with a beard nearly to his navel, collecting bottles and cans from a dumpster.  There were others that surprised me.  I saw a woman that looked surprisingly normal, in clothes that weren’t shabby enough to draw attention, herding four near-identical infant children into a factory building with a faded sign.  I wondered if they were living there or if the mom was working there and just couldn’t do anything with her kids but bring them with her.  We passed a twenty-something artist and his girlfriend, sitting on the sidewalk with paintings propped up around them.  The girl waved at Lisa as we walked by, and Lisa waved back.

Certainly one of the poorer parts of town. The nature covered dilapidated buildings and structures are kind of pretty in their own way though.

Seems like the gang knows some of the people around here as well, they seem interesting.

Our destination was a red brick factory with a massive sliding metal door locked shut by a coil of chain.  Both the chain and door had rusted so much that I expected that neither offered any use.  The size of the door and the broadness of the driveway made me think that large trucks or small boats would have been backed up through the entryway back in the factory’s heyday.  The building itself was large, stretching nearly half the block, two or three stories tall.  The background of the sign at the top of the building had faded from red to a pale orange-pink, but I could make out the bold white letters that read ‘Redmond Welding’.

An old abandoned factory serving as a cover for a supervillain lair is such a classic. I love it.

Brian let us in through a small door on the side of the building, rather than the big rusted one.  The interior was dark, lit only by rows of dusty windows near the ceiling.  I could make out what had been massive machines and treadmills prior to being stripped to their bare bones.  Sheets covered most of the empty and rusted husks.  Seeing the cobwebs, I reached out with my power and felt bugs throughout.  Nobody had been active in here for a long time.

“Come on,” Brian urged me.  I looked back and saw that he was halfway up a spiral staircase in the corner.  I headed up after him.

It even looks and probably is a real factory inside! And then I assume going up the staircase leads to the real lair.

After seeing the desolation of the first floor, seeing the second floor was a shock.  It was a loft, and the contrast was startling.  The exterior walls were red brick, and there was no ceiling beyond a roof and a skeleton of metal girders overhead to support it.  In terms of general area, the loft seemed to have three sections, though it was hard to define because it was such an open layout.

The staircase opened up into what I would have termed the living room, though the one room alone had nearly as much floor space as the ground floor of my house did.  The space was divided by two couches, which were set at right angles from one another, both facing a coffee table and one of the largest television sets I had ever seen.  Below the television set were a half dozen video game consoles, a DVD player and one or two machines I didn’t recognize.  I supposed they might have a TiVo, though I’d never seen one.  Speakers larger than the TVs my dad and I had at home sat on either side of the whole setup.  Behind the couches were tables, some open space with rugs and shelves set against the walls.  The shelves were only half filled with books and magazines, while the rest of the shelf space was filled with odds and ends ranging from a discarded shoe to candles.

Oh god their base is rad.

It just screams rebel teenagers and freedom and hanging around playing games or watching movies while eating pizza.

Unironically comfy.

The second section was a collection of rooms.  It was hard to label them as such, though, because they were more like cubicles, three against each wall with a hallway between them.  They were a fair size, and there were six doors, but the walls of each room were only eight or so feet tall, not reaching all the way up to the roof.  Three of the doors had artwork spray painted on them.  The first door had a crown done in a dramatic graffiti style.  The second door had the white silhouette of a man and a woman against a blue background, mimicking the ‘mens’ and ‘womens’ washroom signs that were so common.  The third had a girl’s face with puckered lips.  I wondered what the story was, there.

This part seems to be the individual room of each member? The whole base has an urban gang aesthetic that I really like. The crown could be Regent’s? The second one seems to be the bathroom. Third one possibly Tattletale’s?

“Nice art,” I said, pointing at the door with the crown on it, feeling kind of dumb for making it the first thing I’d said as I entered the room.

“Thanks,” Alec replied.  I guess that meant it was his work.

Oh cool. Alec is the one who does the graffiti. He seems the most laid back and chill of the group so far.

I took another second to look around.  The far end of the loft, the last of the three sections, had a large table and some cabinets.  Though I couldn’t take a better look without crossing the whole loft, I gathered that their kitchen was in the far end of the loft.

Maybe the planning table? To gather around and talk heists? And with a kitchen and bathroom this place actually functions as a good resting place.

Throughout, there was mess.  I felt almost rude for paying attention to it, but there were pizza boxes piled on one of the tables, two dirty plates on the coffee table in front of the couch, and some clothes draped over the back of one of the couches.  I saw pop cans – or maybe beer cans – stacked in a pyramid on the table in the far room.  It wasn’t so messy that I thought it was offensive, though.  It was mess that made a statement… like, ‘This is our space.’  No adult supervision here.

Hah, Taylor made the same observation I made.

Pure teen spirit.

“I’m jealous,” I admitted, meaning it.

“Dork,” Alec said, “What are you jealous for?”

“I meant it’s cool,” I protested, a touch defensively.

Taylor still probably carries the trauma of the bullying close to the chest as she reacted defensively to playful banter. Alec is constantly giving me Amethyst vibes for some reason. As in like, lazy teen, walking disaster.

Lisa spoke before Alec could reply, “I think what Alec means is that this is your place now too.  This is the team’s space, and you’re a member of the team, now.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling dumb.  Lisa and Alec headed to the living room, while Brian walked off to the far end of the loft.  When Lisa gestured for me to follow her, I did.  Alec lay down, taking up an entire couch, so I sat on the opposite end of the couch from Lisa.

“The rooms,” Lisa said, “Far side, in order of closest to farthest, are Alec, bathroom, mine.”  That meant Alec’s room was the one with the crown, and Lisa’s door had the face with the puckered lips.  She went on, “On the side closer to us, Rachel’s room, Rachel’s dogs’ room, and the storage closet.”

I was right about those rooms!

The other rooms are a closet, and two that belong to Rachel, one for her dog’s specifically.

I do wonder how she’s going to react to the new member, given that the webpage warned of hostility and antisocial behaviour.

Lisa paused, then glanced at Alec and asked, “You think she-”

“Duh,” Alec cut her off.

“What?” I asked, feeling lost.

“We’ll clean out the storage closet,” Lisa decided, “So you have a room.”

I was taken aback.  “You don’t have to do that for me,” I told her, “I’ve got a place.”

Lisa made a face, almost pained.  She asked me, “Can we just do it anyways, and not make a fuss?  It’d be a lot better if you had your own space here.”

I must have looked confused, because Alec explained, “Brian has an apartment, and was pretty firm about not needing or wanting a room here… but he and Lisa have been arguing regularly because of it.  He has nowhere to sleep but the couch if he gets hurt and can’t go to his place, and there’s no place to put his stuff, so it gets left all over. Take the room.  You’ll be doing us a favor.”

“Okay,” I said.  I added, “Thank you,” as much for the explanation as for the room itself.

I find it funny that Taylor’s joined a villain group but she still needs to come back home for dinner like a good girl (and so Danny doesn’t have a heart attack. Poor Danny)

So she will have a second room here, for if she ever wants to have her own space to rest when she’s at the base. That means you’re officially a member of the group, Taylor!

“Last time he went up against Shadow Stalker, he came back here and bled all over a white couch,” Lisa groused, “nine hundred dollar couch and we had to replace it.”

“Fucking Shadow Stalker,” Alec commiserated.

Shadow Stalker? Are they a Hero? With a name like that, they would certainly be an edgy hero. Maybe a competing villain? Seems strong, too.

Brian came back from the other end of the loft, raising his voice to be heard as he approached, “Rache’s not here, and neither are her dogs. She must be walking them or working.  Dammit.  I get stressed when she’s out.”  He approached the couches and saw Alec sprawled on the one.

“Move your legs,” Brian told him.

“I’m tired.  Sit on the other couch,” Alec mumbled, one arm over his face.

Brian glanced at Lisa and I, and Lisa scooted over to make room. Brian glared down at Alec and then sat between us girls.  I shifted my weight and tucked one leg under me to give him room.

“So,” Brian explained, “Here’s the deal.  Two grand a month, just to be a member of the team.  That means you help decide what jobs we do, you go on the jobs, you stay active, you’re available if we need to call.”

“I don’t have a phone,” I admitted.

They are surely hyping up the possible confrontation with Rachel, here.

Alec’s still being an Amethyst.

Brian’s explaining the pay and the work, and how does Taylor not have a phone?

“We’ll get you one,” he said, like it wasn’t even a concern.  It probably wasn’t. “We generally haul in anywhere from ten grand to thirty-five grand for a job.  That gets divided four ways… five ways now that you’re on the team.”

I nodded, then exhaled slowly, “It’s not small change.”

Brian nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, “Nope.  Now, how on the ball are you, as far as knowing what we’re up against?”

I blinked a few times, then hedged, “For other local capes?  I’ve done research online, read the cape magazines religiously for a few years, more since getting my powers… but I dunno.  If the past twenty four hours have taught me anything, it’s that there’s a lot I don’t know, and will only find out the hard way.”

Brian smiled.  I mean, really smiled.  It made me think of a boy rather than a nearly-grown man.  He replied, “Most don’t get that, you know?  I’ll try to share what I know, so you aren’t caught off guard, but don’t be afraid to ask if there’s anything you’re not sure about, alright?”

Wow they gain a lot of money

And Taylor’s pragmatism and preparedness seem to resonate well with Brian’s carefulness. He likes this new adittion to the team.

I nodded, and his smile widened.  He said, through a good natured chuckle, “Can’t tell you how much of a relief it is that you take this stuff seriously, since some people -” he stopped to lean over and kick the side of the couch Alec was lying on, “-need me to twist their arms to get them listening, and some people,” he jerked his thumb over his right shoulder, “think they know everything.”

“I do know everything,” Lisa said, “It’s my power.”

“What?” I said, interrupting Brian.  My heartbeat quickened, though I hadn’t exactly been relaxed to begin with, “You’re omniscient?”

Lisa laughed, “No, no.  I do know things though.  My power tells me stuff.”

Oh we finally get LIsa’s power!!! YES!!

Ok so it’s not omniscience, so you aren’t totally fucked. Her power seems to make her understand the true nature of things/ inform her of details/ give her consant information of her surroundings or what she pays attention to.

So you could still be pretty fucked

Swallowing hard, hoping I wasn’t drawing attention by doing so, I asked, “Like?”  Like why I was joining their team?

Lisa sat forward and put her elbows on her knees, “Like how I knew you were at the library when I sent me the messages.  If I felt like it, and if I had the know how, I’m sure I could have figured it out by breaking into the website database and digging through the logs to find the address you connected from, but my power just let me skip that step like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“And why exactly did you mention you knew where she was?” Brian queried, his voice a touch too calm.

“I wanted to see how she’d react.  Messing with her a little,” Lisa grinned.

“God dammit-” Brian started, but Lisa waved him off.

“I’m filling the newbie in,” she waved him off, “Yell at me later.”

Lisa is awesome and fun, and terrifying at the same time. Her power makes her an expert hacker and codebreaker, among other things I’m sure.

Not giving him a chance to reply, she turned to me and explained, “My power fills in the gaps in my knowledge.  I generally need some info to start from, but I can use details my power feeds me to figure out more stuff, and it all sort of compounds itself, giving me a steady flow of info.”

I swallowed, “And you knew that a cape was on the way last night?”

“Yeah,” she said, “Call it a well educated guess.”

“And you knew the stuff about what happened in the PHQ the same way?”

Lisa’s smile widened, “I’ll admit I cheated there.  Figuring out passwords is pretty easy with my power.  I dig through the PHQ’s digital paperwork and enjoy a little reality TV by way of their surveillance cameras when I’m bored.  It’s useful because I’m not only getting the dirt from what I see, hear and read, but my power fills in the details on stuff like changes in their routine and the team politics.”

So she basically has super-intuition!! Like some Sherlock Holmes-level shit!

Her power let’s her hack her way into sources of information, which further boosts her power allowing her to know even more things about even more people and the world, which I imagine could still lead to even more ways of gaining information.

Her power seems really OP under the right circunstances. If she had 1984-style camera surveillance she could actually be functionally omniscient , but even in her current state, she is fearsome

I stared at her, a good part of me horrified that I’d gotten into an undercover situation opposite a girl with superpowered intuition.

Taking my silence for awe, she grinned her vulpine smile, “It’s not that amazing.  I’m really best with concrete stuff.  Where things are, timing, encryption, yadda yadda.  I can read something out of changes in body language or routine, but it’s less reliable and kind of a headache.  Enough information overload without, you know?”

I did know, her explanation echoed my own thoughts regarding my ability to see and hear things through my bugs.  Still, her words didn’t make me feel that much better.

Oh so she has a limitation! She has a harder time reading social emotions and human behaviors. That might be the reason why she (possibly) hasn’t clued in on the fact that Taylor is a double-agent. That and also that Taylor isn’t so sure herself, subconsiously.

“And,” Brian said, still glowering at Lisa, “Even if she knows a lot, that doesn’t mean Lisa can’t be a dumbass sometimes.”

Lisa punched him in the arm.

Hehe.

“So what are your powers then?” I asked Brian and Alec, hoping for a change in topic.

Brian seems to be darkness-based. I have no idea about Alec’s.

They didn’t get a chance to tell me.  I heard barking from downstairs.  A matter of heartbeats later I was standing, three paces from the couch. Three snarling dogs had me backed against the wall, drool flying from their mouths as their teeth gnashed and snapped for my hands and face.

WAIT WHAT?

DID RACHEL JUST ATTACK HER OUT OF NOWHERE?

I knew she was antisocial but holy hell

Sicking your dogs on the newbie?

Does she want her out or dead? Or whichever happens first?

Of course this is where the chapter ends!

Aaaaaaaa

#worm parahumans #worm liveblog #worm #wildbow #arc 2 #worm 2.7

[fillogree]

So @ifsomebodyhadsomegarlicbread requested some medical Roman angst, & I wanted to try my hand at it. This fic is simultaneously longer & shorter than I want it to be, I just hope it's okay.

“And that’s a match!”

Roman removed his fencing mask panting softly, sweat slicked his brown curls to his forehead as he flashed a tired smile to his partner. “Nice job, Adrien!”

The blonde grinned and nodded. “Thanks, Roman. You sure you’re okay, though? I’ve never scored against you that many times. Don’t be going easy on me now.”

The brunette laughed and shook his head. “I may be a little sleepy. Practice ran late last night, but I wouldn’t hold back against you, you’re just getting that much better.”

Adrien beamed up at Roman and nodded. “Then you better get plenty of sleep for our next match, I want to face you again in top form!”

Roman laughed and patted his sparring partner on the shoulder. “Consider it done.”

In the locker room however, Roman was a frantic mess. He was scrambling to get his fencing gear put away while firing off a text message to the leader of his theater troupe.

‘omw’ he managed to type, pushing send with his nose as he zipped up his duffle bag.

“Okay, lets see.” Gear packed, phone, wallet, keys—” Roman tugged open his backpack, thumbing through folders and paperclipped sheets. “Script, creative writing assignment, apron.. okay good!” He threw both bags over his shoulder and raced out of the locker room. He darted down the hallway, zigzagging between other students, offering apologies as he ran. He was grateful to have secured a position with a local theater company for work. He had been in two local plays in the past few months and was excited to be rehearsing for another, but between two jobs and university, he was getting a bit tired.

Roman hopped out of his car as he arrived at the studio, ignoring the growling in his stomach. He snatched up his backpack and bolted inside. His current role was that of a watchmaker in the city of Avalon a city filled with gears, cogs and machines. His character Hector was distraught, because his services were required all over town, but he could never sit and work on his cuckoo clocks at home. It was feeling Roman felt all too familiar with.

As Roman ran through his lines with his scene partner, he couldn’t help but notice a pinprick of pressure beginning to form between his eyes. He was probably getting a headache due to not eating all day, and he made a mental note to eat his granola bar he had stashed away on his way to work. He pushed through it even as they pain became a bit more persistent as he ran through his lines with the rest of the troupe. He stumbled over a few lines as the pressure began to build. Thankfully rehearsal was called a bit early and Roman managed to say his goodbyes.

Once in his car Roman couldn’t help but frown at the growing pressure.  He felt a little dizzy but tried hard to push the feeling away as he pulled away from the studio and headed down the road. By the time he pulled up to the café his head was throbbing. The brunette found himself squinting, brow furrowed as he tried to push the pain away. He pulled open his backpack, tied on his work apron and pushed through the door of the café. He instantly regretted it.

The synthpop music that was blaring over the speakers felt entirely too loud, and the overlapping chatter of everyone enjoying their drinks and sweets was near deafening. He shut his eyes tight for a moment but that just pinched the muscles in his face and sharpened the pain. Sighing heavily Roman made his way back behind the counter anyway.  He carefully guided one of his co-workers into the back room, slumping into a chair.

“Taz, please tell me you or Tucker have something for my head.”

The younger male grimaced, sucking air between his teeth as he shook his head, softly. “Tess drove us today and was in a hurry, so we forgot our bags in his car.”

Roman groaned pressing the balls of his palms to his forehead, “There are five of you and none of you carry anything for migraines?”

“Maybe caffeine will help. Your shift doesn’t start for another 10 minutes, so let me make you a latte.”

Roman nodded, waving the younger male off before burying his face back in his hands. He had 6 hours to plow through on register, and then a paper he needed to go home and write. His head continued thudding on, but curiously Roman noticed shaking in his fingers. He pulled his hand from his face, squinting at the light and looked down at his hands, they were trembling now.

His heart began to pound a bit faster. What exactly did this mean?  He went to stand up, but felt his legs trembling too, and quickly sat back down.

“T-T-Taz..” Roman frowned. As he tried to speak it felt as though he had to force the words out, the hard stutter a result of them gripping his tongue and almost refusing to leave his mouth. “I-I think I need t-to go to the h-hospital..”

Taz came back with Roman’s latte to see him in full body muscle spasms his arms and legs shaking and bouncing wildly. “Roman? What’s wrong?”

“I-I don’t know.. g-get help.”

 Virgil stared at the unknown number blinking across his cell phone's home screen. He didn't like having his music interrupted, particularly by unknown numbers. With a heavy sigh he clicked the answer icon & put the phone on speaker, muting himself quickly. He wasn't in the mood for any telemarketers today.

"Hello, this is Rosa calling from North Community Hospital, may I speak with Virgil Grimments, please?"

Virgil’s eyes widened, and he felt his heartbeat quicken reflexively. He took a deep breath and unmuted the phone. “Speaking.”

“Virgil? As I stated, this is Rosa. We have a Roman Pierce here in the hospital, you were listed as his emergency contact. Can you come in?”

Virgil’s pounding heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach as he nodded, clutching the phone tightly to his ear. “Is he okay? What’s going on?”

“He’s okay, it doesn’t look like anything too serious, but we would like you here at your earliest convenience, to discuss his health.”

Virgil continued nodding despite himself, the butterflies in his stomach flapping their wings wildly. “Yes, yes of course. We’ll be there soon.”

Virgil pocketed his cell phone and all but ripped his door off the hinges, taking the stairs up to the living room two at a time. “Pat! Patton!”

Patton jolted upwards from his position in the couch, pausing the cooking show he was watching. He turned around to see a disheveled Virgil, his eyes wide with worry. “Hey Virgil, what’s wrong?” He asked making his way over to him.

“Ro-Roman’s in the hospital. I dunno what happened. We have to go.”

Patton nodded making his way over to Virgil and cupped his hands. “Okay, we’ll go right now. Deep breaths, okay? Did they say what condition he was in?”

“They said it wasn’t too serious, but they needed me there right away.”

“Okay, okay. So, it’s nothing serious. He’s at the hospital surrounded by people who are qualified to take care of him. So, he’ll be alright, we’ll leave right now, okay? Did you call Logan?”

Virgil shook his head as Patton slowly released his hands, taking deep breaths to calm his rising worry. He watched as Patton grabbed his hoodie, and cell phone before scampering into the kitchen. “You go call Lo and I’ll meet you in the car, okay?”

Virgil nodded, pulling up Logan’s number on his phone as he headed out the front door. Logan answered on the second ring.

“Virgil. Normally you’d be resting at this hour, what is it?”

“Ro’s in the hospital, Lo. They said it’s nothing too serious, but Pat and I are headed up there right now. Can you come?”

Logan looked down at the stacks of paper across his desk. He still had tests to grade, essays to examine, and an entire lesson plan he needed to write up by Monday. Still, the health and safety of his partners came before his job.

“Which hospital?”

Virgil gave a sigh of relief, as he relayed what he was told from Rosa, and gave Logan the address. While Roman was of course the focus, he felt much better about heading into a hospital with the two people who helped calm him down the most. What he wasn’t prepared for was to see someone as infallible as Roman in a hospital bed. He stared at his phone after Logan hung up and sighed softly. The others deserved to know too. With much reluctance he unlocked his phone and pulled up his text messages.

‘Dee. Ro’s in the hospital, tell the others.’  That should be enough, Dietrich could let the others know, and Virgil wouldn’t have to be involved.

‘Which hospital?’

‘No.’

‘FamILY only, huh?’

Virgil sneered at the response, something in the pit of his stomach was coiling in on itself. He didn’t want to talk to his ex-boyfriend any more than he had to. The fact that he and Roman were even talking was.. well, Virgil felt a lot of things about the two of them getting along. He took a few more deep breaths and typed his response.

‘You can come over when we get him home.’

‘Thanks for your permission.’

Virgil pocketed his cell phone fighting back waves of nausea as he made his way to Patton’s car. The sight of the pastel blue Volkswagen helped to lighten his mood. Patton had decorated the car with tons of bumper sticker and his back window was home to several plush kittens. It was hard to be upset in Patton’s car; it was almost a rule. He waited by the passenger’s side door as Patton came rushing outside, clutching a canvas backpack in his arms.

“A change of clothes, a puppy plushie, and some shortbread cookies.” Patton explained as he handed the bag over to Virgil, unlocking the car.

“You think he’ll be there overnight?” Virgil tried to keep the growing concern from creeping into his voice.

“Hopefully not, but it never hurts to be prepared, right? And if he does come home today he’s got everything he needs for a cozy nap.”

Virgil nodded, trying to relax against the seat as Patton drove.

 Logan couldn’t stop tapping his foot as he waited in the lobby. He had arrived at the hospital as quickly as he could, triple checked Roman’s room number, and tried very hard to distract himself by reading over a few articles on his tablet. He tried to tell himself his partner was fine, that he’d see his smiling face in a few minutes, and they’d all go home together. He couldn’t be certain though. He didn’t have all the facts. What he did know was Roman wasn’t being held in the ICU, so his condition wasn’t that bad. He did know the woman who spoke to Virgil said his condition wasn’t serious, and more than anything he was positive Roman had insurance because Logan signed him up for it. With the facts he did have in place there was a very high percentage rate that Roman was fine. However, the bit of him that craved certainty didn’t like to be dwelling on the unknown.

“Logan!”

Logan stood up instantly and felt his worry subside seeing Patton and Virgil approach. Patton threw his arms around him and Virgil gave a soft smile, gently touching his shoulder.

“Which room?”

“413, let’s go.”

Quietly Logan and Patton reached for Virgil’s trembling hands as they walked towards the elevators.

“He’ll be alright.” Logan said softly.

 Virgil stood timidly at the door as Patton lead the way inside and Logan brought up the rear.

“Hey there, handsome. You doing okay?” Patton asked giving Roman’s hand a gentle squeeze. Roman turned his head to look at Patton and gave a small smile.

“A p-prince is always fine.” He croaked.

Patton chuckled, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Roman’s forehead. “Always, huh? So what are you doing in here? Wooing all the nurses?”

“I-I would n-never. N-not when I have s-such amazing boyfriends.” His voice was a low rasp, the stutter only making him sound feebler. Virgil clutched at the front of his jacket just at the sound of him. Logan gave his hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to step into the room.

“There they are. T-tall, dark and broody and Ti-85. What are you all doing here?”

“Virgil received a phone call earlier, apparently we need to have a discussion in regard to your health, Roman.”

The usually lively and boisterous male sunk lower into his hospital bed, pulling the blanket up to his nose. “N-noo..” he whined pitifully. I’m fine..”

“Evidently not.” Logan chided, gently as he ushered Virgil inside. “So, care to explain?”

As Roman opened his mouth to protest a nurse stepped into the room. “O-Oh, I wasn’t expecting such a full house.” She laughed softly. “I’m assuming one of you is Virgil?”

Virgil shuffled awkwardly and gave a small wave to the nurse. “That’s me.”

“Oh, good. Do you mind if I speak with you out in the hallway?”

Virgil shook his head as Logan came to stand behind him. “If this is to discuss Roman’s current condition, I would like to be present as well.”

The nurse nodded, ushering the two of them outside. Patton stayed put at Roman’s bedside, humming softly as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“You gave all of us quite the scare, you know. Virgil was a mess when he got the phone call.”

Roman glanced away, smiling sadly. “I-I’m  sorry.”

“Mmn.. For what, kiddo?”

The door to the room was opened once again and Virgil pushed his way through looking equal parts irritated and heartbroken. Patton glanced up in confusion to see Logan beckoning him out into the hallway.

“What the hell, Princey?” Virgil fumed once the door was closed. “Are you serious? What’s all this about you not eating? You almost passed out at work? What are you doing?”

Roman flinched and tucked further into the blankets. “I-It was just o-one day..”

Virgil raised an eyebrow giving his boyfriend a hard stare. “Go Ahead and say that again. Look me directly in the eye and tell me this is the first time you’ve been skipping meals or ignoring your headaches. She said your blood sugar was so low it was a wonder you hadn’t fainted yet. How is that possible in just one day, huh?”

Roman pouted refusing to meet Virgil’s heated stare.

With a heavy sigh Virgil knelt at Roman’s bedside and clutched his hands. “Why, Ro? Is something wrong, are you.. Do you need to see Emile?”

“Do I..? N-No. No. V-Virgil I’m not..” Roman swallowed, turning away from him, his bottom lip trembling slightly. “I-I didn’t want you to see me like this.. I just. Between school, and clubs and work I forget to eat sometimes, and it’s usually not a big deal, b-but then today the migraines came a-and it got h-hard to talk, and I was so scared, but.. I didn’t.. I didn’t want to let anyone down.”

“Let us down? Roman, how—”

“You all were s-so proud when I got this acting job, Logan even took off work to see my performances, you fought through your social anxiety for me. B-but I didn’t want to walk out on the café, or any of my clubs when things got too busy, but I-I’m so tired Virgil.. I’m just so tired all the time, but I can’t just quit or give up, so..”

Virgil sighed and gave Roman’s hands a squeeze, pressing his forehead against his.

“Roman, I am proud of you. There’s nothing you could do or not do to make me not be proud of you. You’re.. You’re always so confident and charismatic and you work so hard and you’re talented at so many things, it’s amazing. I admire you for that. But even if you only did one of the things you’re good at, or dropped them all, my feelings wouldn’t change, and neither would any one else’s. Now I’m going to tell you something that’s hard to hear, but you need to learn to put yourself first.”

“I know..” Roman sniffled softly.

“No, you don’t. I know you don’t or else you wouldn’t be here. Roman. You need to put yourself first. If you are tired you take a break. If you haven’t eaten you stop, and you eat. If anyone has anything bad to say about you taking a break or working fewer hours they can answer to Pat. You need to find what your boundaries are, and don’t let others cross them, not even yourself. Give yourself some time, okay?”

“When did you become the therapist?” Roman chuckled, wiping his eyes.

“When you encouraged me to go see one. It really helped, now’s my turn to help you. Take care of yourself.”

“Well spoken, Virgil.” Logan said from the doorway. The two jumped as Logan and Patton returned. Patton’s arms were crossed but there was concerned softness in his eyes.

“I’m packing you more snacks, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me, got it?”

“I will help you come up with a suitable schedule, so you don’t run into this issue again.”

“And I’ll text Remus your every location to check up on you in the most embarrassing way possible if you don’t listen.”

“We’re here for you Roman, you don’t have to do it all on your own anymore.”

Roman nodded and gave a soft smile. “I love you guys, thank you.”

#mine.txt #sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders

[susiron]

I honestly don’t let people say “I wish I could draw” to me; I shut that shit down. Art is just practice, persistence, and time. Anyone can draw, and it’s never too late to start improving your hand. If you want to draw, just do it and never stop. 

In a year’s time of drawing, you’ll find that you like your current work more than what you started off with. In 5 years, you’ll see dramatic change and know what you like in your work and what you don’t. There might be times where you do find old pieces that you like better than what you’re currently making, and that can be disheartening, but sometimes you have to hit a few roadblocks and make some u-turns to find a style that really clicks with you and makes you happy. 

You’ll likely never be fully satisfied with your art, but if you can learn to be contented with it and Proud of it, then you’ll enjoy your artwork so much more. I think understanding that there is no goal for art-- that we’re all just floundering around, splashing colours and lines together until we find something that tickles our fancy-- is a good thing to keep in mind. 

And if art block is ever a problem, give yourself a break and try something new. Sometimes changing your brush settings, trying a new art program, using any new medium or even subject matter can be enough to get the cogs going again. And if depression is still getting you and art is still hard, take care of yourself rather than beating yourself up for not making art. Art can be hard sometimes and that is okay. 

Tl;dr: keep drawing you funky little artist.

#susi howls

[spoopybruh]

Taking Risks

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series) Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej Characters: Ryan Bergara, Shane Madej

Summary: Events were predictable, people are not. That’s why Shane’s fears usually center around the ever changing nature of others. The what ifs. Non-constants. He’s taken precautions in establishing a tolerance of sorts towards such kerfuffle but there will always be times he has to risk it for the biscuit. He takes a chance on one Ryan Bergara. 

They were in the middle of a long drive home when Shane decides to break the comfortable silence.

“So,” His tone is light despite the severity of his admission, hand gliding against the curve of the steering wheel to steady his stream of thoughts. He sees his companion lift his attention off the screen of his phone and stop tapping on what undoubtedly was another list of haunted locations they could get visiting permissions for. “I may or may not feel things differently than most people do.”

That understandably evokes an unimpressed sound from Ryan and a brief crinkling of his nose before he replies. “Yeah no shit, Sherlock. You were the one who laughed at public executions.”

“I didn’t laugh at the public executions, Ryan. They get breakfast at execution events! It’s like going to Disneyland and getting a little restaurant seat so they can watch a parade.” Even thinking about it draws chuckles from him. “How can people not find that hilarious?” Morbid for sure. But there’s still something funny about the whole juxtaposition of how things went back then. It’s easy to just drop the subject. To let the natural flow of their bantering continue in a way that leaves the insides of his chest light with contentment. And for a few moments, he’s tempted to do just so. Yet if he does, he’ll probably never speak of this again. “No. I mean…I don’t feel things when I should be.”

“What? Like being afraid of reasonable shit instead of someone randomly running up to you and injecting you with heroin?”

“Hey! It could happen! That’s a reasonable fear.” The tight band of anticipation eases with each chuckle that’s forced out of him. Shane turns a corner. Regroups. “No, it’s not that. I meant stuff like empathy.”

He feels, more than sees, Ryan’s eyebrows rise several notches. It’s three tense heartbeats later that his companion’s furiously racing mind finally finds enough coherence to spit a reply back at Shane.

“So…you’re saying that you’re someone who doesn’t…care about anyone or anything? Sorry I know this sounds bad and I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything but what are you getting at here?” Shane could see the grimace on Ryan’s face the moment he vocalises his words and he takes comfort in the fact that this is as equally awkward for him as it is for Shane. At the very least, Ryan’s not acting all freaked out. That would have been hurtful.

The lankier of the duo takes another deep breath to brace himself. “Well it’s not like I don’t feel anything.It’s just….harder. I don’t care about most things, especially if they don’t pertain to people in my own social circle and stuff like that. I just care about some things.” His gaze darts with purpose to rest on his companion for a few brief seconds before he turns his attention to the road again. “Some people. And I pretend to care about other things to be, you know, polite.”

That draws an ‘Oh’ out of Ryan. And if Shane looks just a little bit harder to see his expression under the dim lighting of the setting sun, he swears he could make out a ruddier colour staining the cheeks of his friend. But that’s something to read into for the future. Hopefully. It’s curious how it’s easier now once he forced his way through. Not the finding the right words part. Just the being able to continue part. Then again, that’s his problem. Finding the right words to things. “The thing I have. Makes it harder for me to find the right words to say or find the right things to do. Because I don’t process things the way other people do. I don’t feel shit the same way, I guess. Like- Like say maybe an animal died or something like that. I know that it’s probably a heartbreaking thing to people because they, you know, react in a certain way. And I try to uh. It’s like shitting for the bit. I take it as a cue and just kind of lay it out there, follow their example and carry it through. Without necessarily feeling the same emotion. Do I want the animal to die? No. I’m just not bummed out over it. But not everything’s as clear cut as that so it’s difficult for me to know how I’m supposed to react.”

Ryan’s inhale is sharp but Shane doesn’t turn to look at him. He has no way of anticipating the expression on his face and maybe that’s better that way. When Ryan speaks, it’s with a quiet wonder. As if everything somehow made sense now. “You do that. You take a while to come up with shit to say sometimes, I’ve seen your face when you try to phrase things carefully.

For the first time since the entire conversation, it’s Shane’s turn to be surprised. “I make faces for that? Is it obvious that I’m doing it?”

“No no!” He’s somewhat mollified at Ryan’s scrambling to assure him. “It’s not obvious. Only when it’s this close.” A hand bumps against his shoulder lightly when Ryan gestured to their proximity. “Only when people squint really hard and you know, I’ve had to look at your ugly face for far too often.”

A good to honest laugh slips from Shane at the good-natured ribbing. “You like my ugly face. You said faces like mine are attractive with the whole Cumberbatch story.”

“Yeah but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got a strange face.” They both fell silent yet again. Three bus stops were driven past before Ryan pipes up once more with another question. “So do you…do you think it’s some kind of uh.” Shane catches him gesticulating out of his peripheral vision. “Do you think it’s some kind of mental thing? Are you..god why is this is so difficult- are you, are you a sociopath or something? Does that make you one?”

His struggling has Shane snorting with amusement. Ryan’s struggling almost always does. This time round, he takes mercy on the both of them and decides to cooperate.

“That’s not the right term and too media cliche-y but I suppose it puts me somewhere on the spectrum. We’re not sure yet. My therapist and I- we’re figuring it out.”

Ryan seems to think that as a satisfactory answer because he nods and settled down once again, though Shane doesn’t have to be a mind reader to feel the cogs in his brain practically working on overtime to process the information he’d been given. “I don’t know what to say to that, man. That’s some heavy stuff. Uh…Thank you? For telling me that. You didn’t have to say it and all but I guess, thanks.”

“Wait, just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that. What else am I supposed to say? It’s strange to me, obviously. But you’ve always been strange. You made the whole stupid Hot dog thing for god’s sake. So this is odd but I’m not gonna judge you for it anymore than I judge your hot daga story. Unless you start killing people and shit. Which you’re not, are you?” The joke’s a morbid one and Ryan’s squinting his eyes at him for comical effect. It shouldn’t make him snort but it does. Shane rolled his eyes briefly at him in return.

“No, of course not. I mean I’ve thought about it. But who honestly can’t say they’ve never thought about running people over when they cut you off in traffic. Besides, you’ve threatened to kill me multiple times. Just because I’ve thought about it doesn’t mean I wanna do it. Everyone’s capable of doing stuff like that, with or without being on the spectrum.”

“Not a particularly comforting thought to mention when you’re currently the one driving but right, that’s fair.” They broke off into bouts of snickering again. Though the next question Ryan asked hits a little too close to home. “So. Have you uh…Have you hurt anyone because of this? Unintentionally or not.” The latter part is hastily added.

"Wow loaded question there.” His fingers twitched briefly. Shane releases a heavy breath. “No? At least not that I know of. Sometimes I don’t realise- wait fuck.” Frustration mars his features. It’d be easy to get away with it if he expressed that he isn’t aware he’d hurt people because he doesn’t mean to. It’d be easy to paint himself in a better light. A more acceptable one. It’d be easier if he pretended to feel some modicum of regret. But that would also defeat the entire purpose of this whole talk he started. This is Ryan. He’s not going to use that sort of information against him- he has no definite proof anyways. Ryan’s better than that. Better in ways Shane sometimes wishes he could emulate. He’s not the type of person to be an asshole like that.

“Sorry I’m….embellishing. Let me try again.” Another deep breath. He forces himself to relax his grip on the steering wheel. Since when did he tense up? “I have. Sometimes it’s unintentional. Sometimes…I have this impulse, you see? I don’t mean for it to be there but it just is. I have this impulse to do or say things just to see how people would react to them. Just to see how far I can push them before they…respond. Not because I want to hurt them, it’s just…I wanted to know what they’re like. How they think. How they feel. How they respond to things. I was curious.” His lips twisted into a grimace. “That impulse makes me inconsiderate sometimes and I’m working on it. I’ve been working on it for years.”

It’s just like what he does. Shutting Ryan in spooky places for longer on purpose. Pretending to sleep so he could watch him get gradually more and more frightened during the rare occasions they’d stay for a sleepover at whatever haunted location. Rationalise away everything when he gets too scared and persisting until he gets annoyed but never too much. He just wants to know, wants to see how far he can push the boundary without having Ryan experience a nervous breakdown. That’s just…how he is.

“I’m generally good at controlling that impulse. And doing our show…helps in a weird way.” Because he could give in to that impulse within limits instead of suppressing it. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t do things on purpose from time to time but….I don’t want to. Not with you. I’ll mess up once in a while though.”

That’s truthfully the only thing Shane could give as an answer. “I’m not saying that you’ve got to feel like you need to accept that or something. I’m just..it’s just gonna happen. Especially when I feel like I’m in trouble or someone does something exceptionally shitty.” He feels hollowed out for some reason. A kind of exhaustion that sinks into even his bones. Ryan doesn’t have to ask him but Shane knows that he’s probably wondering why. Why now? Why tell him?

“I just wanted to let you know.” That impulse. Again, that impulse. But he’s not lying when he said he wanted Ryan to know. “If there was anyone I wanted to know about this, besides my family and therapist, it’d be you.”

Now he’s done it. Thrown everything right there out in the open. Kicked the door off it’s hinges and yelled at spooky bois that are even spookier than the non-existent spooky bois they’re searching for. The ball is now in Ryan’s court.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have long to wait.“Yeah because I’m the only one who can handle your shit and dish it back to you. I’d be old and greying and I’d still kick your ass when you’re being a dick.” He feels the heat of Ryan’s palm before it descended against his shoulder in a slap. Except it stays there for a moment longer, closing in a firm squeeze.

The breathe caught in his throat eases in shaky sputters.

“Alright, so after we’ve gotten this ‘moment’ out of the way and we’ve established that I’ll still kick your ass regardless, can we at least stop by for food? I swear if I have to sit another hour longer waiting for this stupid traffic to hurry up, I’m going to lose my shit.”

Another snort of amusement escaped Shane. Typical Ryan. Quick to irritate and and straightforward, but also refreshingly capable of wading through everything in stride even if it’s out of his depth. This…this is okay. This is better than okay.

“Yeah I can do that.”

A pause.

“Sour Puss Bergara.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

Additional Note: This is a coping fic I’ve written to get some closure for myself and I’d like to thank the writers who placed in genuine effort to thoughtfully write about Shane with AS/PD. I personally am someone who’s on the spectrum and that’s not something I would ever be able to share with anyone in my own social circle. This is as close I’ll ever be able to get to acceptance. Now for the sake of accuracy and to avoid taking too much liberties, I’ll say that in this story, Shane’s on the spectrum like myself instead.

#shyan #buzzfeed shyan #shyan fic #myfics

[reylo-solo]

reylo fic prompt? dont mind if i do! :D kylo ren is assign as rey undercover fbi agent? pretty pls?

Another one it took me far too long to respond to, haha. So sorry about that. But I hope you like what I came up with!

           As Rey turned around from the tillat her favourite coffee shop, she saw him again. He stood out like a sore thumbin the mostly-empty seating area. The man with the dark hair and facial scar.

           He had been following her.

           For the last three days she had seenhim everywhere she went. At first she didn’t think much of it, then she thoughtshe most certainly must have been dreaming. Her mind was playing tricks on herbecause she wasn’t getting enough sleep at night, that sort of thing. But thenhe began to haunt her in her actualdreams, and she would wake drenched in a cold sweat, tangled in her bedsheets,terribly afraid. That was when she knew this was real. He was following her,but why?

           She had a few ideas.

Forthe last several months she had been working with an underground resistanceorganization to combat the restrictive and punitive regimes of the First Order,which currently ruled the whole country with an iron fist. The Resistance hadbeen cooking up something quite big in the time Rey had spent with them, and asa highly-trained professional engineer and all-around handy-woman, she had beenhelping them reach their goal faster than they even anticipated. Now, it seems,the First Order knew of her involvement. As present as her follower was, he didnothing to distract anyone from the fact that he was a cog in the Order’smachine. He wore a fancy black suit, reflective sunglasses, and if Rey couldhazard a guess, she would say he also had an earpiece and a gun tucked into thewaist of his pants. This obviously posed several problems for Rey, the firstbeing that for the last three days she had been unable to meet with theResistance because of her persistent tail. As she began losing sleep over it,she got more and more frustrated and annoyed. And it just so happens thattoday, after seeing her intruder pretend to read yesterday’s newspaper with afull cup of joe in front of him in her favouritecoffee shop, she had had quite enough.

           She stared straight at the man withthe dark hair as she took a sip from her coffee. Dark eyes caught hold of hersover the top of the newspaper for the briefest second before they disappeared. Shewatched him shuffle the pages like nothing had happened. Then, she turned herheel and walked out.

           She kept a quick, even pace down thesidewalk, listening hard for noise coming from behind her. As she was crossingthe street she thought she heard a familiar chime; she looked over her shoulderin time to see the man exit the coffee shop, straighten his suit jacket, andbegin to trail her. She began to walk a little faster. Carefully, so as not tospill hot coffee all over herself, she cradled her cup in the crook of herelbow and dug around inside her purse until her fingers came to rest around thesmooth, cool handle of her small derringer pistol. Then, she suddenly duckedaround a corner into an alleyway, backing up just a few paces, and there shewaited.

           Her coffee safely set on the groundbehind her, she held the gun tightly in both hands, keeping it low against herthighs, amidst the folds of her yellow skirt to hide it from any otherpotential passerby. She began to hear footsteps getting closer. Not more thanone set. Her heart raced and she could taste blood in her mouth as her teethclamped down on the tip of her tongue.

           As the man turned the corner, he wasmet with quite the sight: an angry young woman, dressed in a flouncy yellowpolka-dotted skirt and jean-jacket with cute little ankle boots, pointing apistol right between his eyes.

           “Holy shit—!” He yelped andstaggered back, his own hand quickly brushing aside his jacket and reaching forhis gun.

           “Don’t!” Rey snapped, advancing onhim quickly until the tiny barrel of her gun was pressed against the middle ofhis chest.

           He froze immediately and put hishands up, watching her like a hawk for any sign of her next move.

           “Okay…alright…” he said, as calmlyas possible. “Let’s not do anything to crazy.”

           “Why have you been following me?”Rey demanded.

           In the blink of an eye the man’sentire demeanor changed. He straightened and fixed her with a cool, bemused starethat held her unflinchingly in its grasp. A smirk that was almost cruel andalmost charming at the same time pulled at the corner of his full lips.

           “I think you know why,” he purred, “don’tyou?”

           Rey didn’t say anything to that; shecouldn’t. She would admit to nothing for as long as possible. But the way hewas looking at her…god, it felt like he could read her mind. He already kneweverything he needed to know about her; she had nothing left to hide. But shewouldn’t let his disarming nature affect her. It may have won other battles forhim, but it wouldn’t win this one.

           “Who are you?” she asked icily.

           The man sighed. He looked bored now.His raven hair fell across his forehead and he carelessly pushed it back, hiseyes roaming around the small confines of the alley as though searching for anythingbetter to stare at. Rey’s finger twitched longingly upon the trigger.

           “My name is Kylo Ren,” he explained.His eyes searched her face. “You don’t know about me?”

           “No,” Rey shot back, “should I?”

           He smiled. He actually smiled; abroad, cheeky smile, like she was suddenly the most entertaining thing he hadever seen. It annoyed her almost as much as the heat rising up the back of hercollar did. There was something in those eyes, in the way they lit up when hesmiled, that threw her for a very sudden, lurching loop.

           “I can see why the Resistancerecruited you,” he commented. “You’re kind of a plucky thing, aren’t you? That’sa good quality to have.”

           He admired the barrel of her gunwith his fingers. They slid along the top of it slowly, roaming back to encirclethe chamber. She used the side of her gun to smack his hand away violentlybefore withdrawing it. She had other options available, and besides, she didn’treally feel like shooting a man inthe middle of the downtown area where anyone could hear her gun go off.

           He still had that smug, knowing lookon his face. But she could tell he was just as disarmed as she was, if notmore. He was incredibly distracted by her, for one. It was clear he had nointentions of restraining her or bringing her in for questioning. If he had, hewould have done it already. The First Order does not believe in wasting time,or in allowing potential enemies the ability to walk free. He was just playingwith her, like a cat with a mouse between its paws. The only problem for himwas, this mouse had particularly sharp teeth, and a fondness for biting.

           “Oh, so you’re not going to shoot me?” he asked, raising his brows. “Damn. I was lookingforward to it.”

           “It may happen yet,” Rey saidcalmly, reaching into the pocket of her jacket as discreetly as possible. “Don’tlet those hopes down too low.”

           “Is that right?”

           “Mmhm. In fact—” The powderysubstance was soft as beach sand between her fingers as she grasped it insideher pocket. Once she was sure she had enough, she flicked it into his face,making him cough and sputter and blink. “—it might happen sooner than youthink.”

           “Augh, what the hell?! What isthis?!” he screamed. His hands furiously dusted the white substance out of hisface as his eyes watered.

           “A new product the Resistance hasbeen working on,” Rey answered sweetly. “Since your kind plays dirty, wedecided we will too.”

           Kylo fumbled, reaching out for thenearest wall with which to brace himself. He was panting and although thecoughing and sneezing had subsided, he looked drained of all his energy. Heslumped against the wall, heaving.

           “Are you feeling a little sleepy allof a sudden?” Rey inquired. “That’s perfectly normal. Just lay down…there yougo…close your eyes…”

           He was out, just like that. Shegrinned at the success of the magical little powder, admiring its effects forjust a moment longer before pulling out her phone and dialing a number.

           “Hello?”

           “Finn? It’s Rey. I need your help.And can you bring handcuffs?”

**

           Rey splashed water on top of Kylo’shead to rouse him. He awoke with a start; his spine straightened and he triedto stand up but when he found himself restrained and incapable of doing so hefell back down to his knees. His head twisted this way and that, trying topiece together his current location. His chest and shoulders heaved with eachpanting breath of panic as he wielded no answers in the dark room.

           When the dim lights came on theynearly blinded him. He looked up to see the girl standing over him, but lookingat a point straight ahead rather than at him. He followed her gaze to an emptychair, made of maple and fitted with red velvet cushions.

           Suddenly a door opened and a groupof four people walked in, dressed in flowing robes and gowns. As they tooktheir seats and Kylo could see each and every one of their faces, he groanedaudibly and hung his head.

           The older woman took her seat in thechair and as her eyes fell upon her prisoner she too had a strange reaction (byRey’s standards). At first, pain flashed in those brown eyes of hers, sharp andclear in its reflection. Then she sighed, put her head in her palm, andmassaged her temple.

           Confused, Rey cleared her throat.

           “I-I’ve brought you the man who’sbeen following me,” she explained. “He says his name is Kylo Ren.”

           The woman sighed again. “Yes, I knowwho he is,”

           “You…do?” Rey asked.

           “Yes. He’s my son.”

           Shock lanced through her. He couldn’t possibly be Leia and Han’s son, shethought frantically to herself. He’s…evil or something, he has to be! He works forthe First Order! He just couldn’t be…

           But as she looked down and saw thosedark eyes looking ahead with an air of morbid amusement, it all clicked intoplace for her. He had his father’s chin, his mother’s cheek, and the thick, undeniablehair of a Skywalker prodigy. Her limbs felt frozen and she couldn’t move; shejust stood stock-still, staring at him in mute horror.

           Kylo sighed, just as his mother haddone, and rolled his eyes up to her, opening his mouth to speak.

           “Now look at what you’ve done.”

#ask #anon #reylo #reylo au #reylo fic #my fic #reylo ff #kylo x rey

[ladyfogg]

Sick Like Me - Epilogue

Sick Like Me - Epilogue

Fic Summary: With unfinished business hanging over your head, being locked up in Arkham is holding you back. However, you have your eye on a certain red-haired maniac, who may be just the person to help you escape and realize your true potential.  Fic Song. Fic Playlist. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Jerome Valeska/Female Reader

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, for a complete list of warnings, visit AO3.

Bright colors suddenly burst before your eyes and your lungs fill with air, forcing a dry gasp through your lips. Your body feels like it’s electrified, every hair on end and every nerve misfiring. Your limbs shudder and twitch, sending you into convulsions.

All your senses return in one full swoop and you find yourself rolling off whatever surface you were on, landing on cold, stone. You try to get up but it’s not working, and now your head is pounding so hard you want to smash it on the ground.

You scream.

A hand gently lands on your shoulder, and the sensation is so foreign and jarring, you scramble away from it and into the darkest corner you can find.

“Queenie, Queenie, can you hear me?”

Who’s that? Who’s calling you? You don’t know that voice. Where are you? What’s going on?!

A face you’ve never seen before appears from outside the desk you’re hiding under. A man. “Shh, it’s okay,” he assures you, smiling excitedly. “It worked! I can’t believe it worked!”

He tries to reach for you again, and this time you pounce with a yell, pinning him down and clawing at him. With a shout of his own, he tries to block your attack, which he’s able to do because you’re fairly weak. Still, you get your hands around his throat and start to squeeze.

“No...w-wait…” he chokes out, grabbing your wrists. “I’m here to help. I brought you back.”

“Who...a-are...you?” you ground out, still choking him.

“D-Dwight, p-p-please--”

Too drained to continue, you let your hands slip from his neck and scramble off of him, curling into the fetal position. “Everything hurts,” you cry, burying your head in your arms. “Too bright! TOO LOUD! TOO COLD! MAKE IT STOP!”

“H-Hold on! Hold on, my queen!” Dwight babbles, stumbling to his feet. He hurries around you, flipping switches and turning things off.

At last he drapes a thick blanket over you and it quells the shaking a bit. The room is quieter now, whatever machinery dormant for the time being. Once your head doesn’t feel like it’s going to explode anymore, you slowly lift it to peer up at him.

“You’re here. You’re really here! It worked!” Dwight gushes, kneeling down next to you.

“W-what worked?” you demand.

“My machine,” Dwight says. “I built this machine to bring you back, and look at you! Good as new! Well, mostly.”

Very slowly, you push yourself up to sit, the blanket sliding down your exposed body. “Back from what?” you ask.

“The dead,” Dwight explains. “You died. Jim Gordon shot you. Do you not remember?”

Staring at the floor, you try to sort through your memories. It’s a bit of a blur for a moment, but after a few seconds everything comes rushing back. It’s so overwhelming you start to hyperventilate and Dwight scoots forward, hands reaching toward you.

“It’s alright, you’re okay,” he coos.

You seize the front of his shirt. “Where is Jerome?!” you ask.

Dwight nods his head to the side and you turn to look in that direction. Several feet away, a cryo chamber sits tucked in the corner. You shove Dwight back, stumbling to your feet. However, you haven’t used your legs in quite some time, and you nearly fall into the desk, knocking things to the floor. You persist however, until you’re standing in front of the cryo-tube, hands pressed to the glass. Jerome is inside, dead by the looks of it, a bullet wound in his throat.

Alfred.

Without realizing it, you find yourself laughing, the sound coming out as a hysterical giggle at first before rolling into pure laughter.

Dwight chuckles nervously nearby. “What’s so funny?”

With tears streaming down your face, you gasp, “The butler did it!”

You can’t stop the laughter, even when your lungs start to burn and your chest hurts. It really hurts.

Looking down at yourself, you're greeted with healing bullet wounds, neatly sewed shut.

“I told him death probably wouldn’t stop us,” you giggle. “Said it to be funny. Never thought I’d be right!”

You’re still laughing when Dwight carefully drapes the blanket back around your naked body. “How do you feel?” he asks.

“Terrible,” you say, finally letting your amusement fade. “So, Dwight, when do we bring my Mistah back?”

Dwight’s smile fades slightly and he gives you a nervous look. “Well, I can’t really do that--”

The second he says can’t, your hand is back around his throat. “Excuse me?!” you bellow.

“It’s just--” Dwight chokes out. “You’re the first time the machine has worked and it fried half the circuits. I’m going to have to rebuild and…” He gasps for air as you squeeze tighter.

“You mean to tell me,” you glare, pushing him toward the nearest solid object, which happens to be a stone pillar. “That you brought me back from the dead with no way to bring Jerome back?!”

“Please, let me explain…” Dwight manages to say. “We only wanted to please you. We love you.”

His words are confusing, forcing you to lessen your grip. “We?”

Dwight gasps for air, clutching his throat. “P-Please, my queen,” he begs. “Please, come with me.”

He cautiously takes a step to the side, and when you don’t attack him again, he gestures for you to follow. With one final look at Jerome, you tug the blanket around yourself and follow Dwight. You leave the lab and he leads you down a dark hallway. In the distance, muffled pounding can be heard, and you realize after a moment that it’s actually the bass to some song.

Dwight opens the door at the end of the hall, and the music comes through full blast, making your wince. You follow him through the door, and find yourself on a small stage. Below you, dozens of people are partying, all dressed in striped Arkham-like uniforms. Between the music and flashing lights it’s all disorienting and you resist the urge to run back to the quieter lab.

A few people take notice of you, and as soon as they do, the atmosphere changes. People stop dancing, the music screeches to a halt, and the flashing lights stop. Only the lights on stage remain lit and Dwight smiles proudly as he gestures to the crowd.

“My queen, meet your children,” he says. “The Maniax!”

The people explode with applause and screams. Some people even faint when they see you, while others look on in awe.

“I don’t understand,” you say.

“We’re your followers,” Dwight explains. “We saw you and Jerome on TV and it was like a revelation. What the two of you did was spectacular! We love you both and are here to live our lives the way you taught us: free! WE ARE NOT COGS!”

The crowd begins to chant “WE ARE NOT COGS” over and over again and the echo fills you with a sense of pride and sick glee. Standing straighter, you take in the group of people, letting a smile slowly spread across your face.

“I want to speak!” you snap, and the room instantly goes silent. Feeling powerful, you step forward. “Your efforts have not been in vain. I have returned to you.”

More shouts and cheers erupt, but you hold your hand up and they stop again. “However, I am not complete,” you say. “Not without Jerome. That is why, from this moment forward, none of us will rest until we fix Dwight’s machine and get my puddin’ back. Understood?!”

A chorus of “yes, my queen!” comes back at you, and your grin widens.

“He’ll be very excited to see all this,” you tell them. “You’ll do exactly as I say, without question! Anyone who has a problem with that, can see me personally.” You drop your voice low and give them your best glare. “And I will deal with them, personally.”

Dropping your blanket, you stand there in your naked glory, taking in the crowd a final time. “Now, I have some business to attend to,” you tell them. “Gotta catch up on what’s happened since I died and all. Carry on.” You wave to the DJ, who nods and starts the music again.

Turning to Dwight, you beckon him to follow and stroll off stage.

“What do you need from me, my queen?” he asks, eyes struggling to remain above your neck.

“What do you you need to fix your machine?” you ask.

“Money, for starters,” Dwight says. “And something that can withstand a lot of power. I’ll have to rebuild some parts before I can attempt to bring Jerome back.”

“Your king,” you correct. “He’s not Jerome to you.”

“Right, of course,” Dwight’s face twitches, and you see a brief flash of disappointment. But you choose to ignore it.

Entering the lab, you make right for Jerome’s tube, coming to a stop with your hands on your hips. Your reflection in the glass in clear, and you see that the cut on your face was sewn together after you died, making the scar even more prominent than it was before. Your veins are also a deep purple, no doubt the after effects of Dwight’s machine.

“Make sure it doesn’t do this to him,” you demand to Dwight, who is standing nearby, wringing his hands nervously. “The only bruises and marks on his body I like are the ones I give him.”

Dwight nods. “It may take some time…” at your glare, he recoils. “But whatever you command, my queen.”

Putting your hands on the glass you lean forward, until all your see is Jerome's face, his mouth still turned up in that final smile.

Still handsome in death, aren’t I, Queenie?

It’s like his voice is still in your ear, like all those times he’s whispered to you before. 

“Still handsome, puddin’,” you agree.

“I’m sorry, my queen?” Dwight asks timidly.

“Don’t you have work to do?!” you snap, over your shoulder.

Dwight merely bows and hurries away, returning to his machine. You look back at Jerome, lips curling into a mirror of the smile he now permanently wears.

“You’ll be back to me in no time, my joker,” you say, trailing your fingers down the glass as if you’re stroking his cheek. “And when you are...we’re going to kill Jim Gordon once and for all. And laugh the entire time.”

Jerome’s laugh echoes in your memories and you can’t help mimicking it until you're gasping for breath.

#ladyfoggdrabbles #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska x you #jerome valeska fanfiction #sick like me

[duskholland]

Carry Each Other (Calum imagine)

Warnings: There’s a wee bit of swearing here and there :’)

Summary: You and Calum carry each other // based off the song ‘Carry Each Other’ by Leagues!

Word Count: 2k

A/N: please imagine you’re allowed to go past security in airports lmao. i wasn’t thinking when i was writing and i couldn’t edit it out so pls bear w me :’)

For the song based blurb night hosted by @andershea @celestialmike @ghibliclifford @just-lie-to-me @sweetestcalum and @theghostofashton !!

//16//

You’re laying on your bed when he walks in. To put it bluntly, you’re a mess. With knees pulled to your chest, hair scattered across your face and bloodshot eyes, you’ve definitely looked better. 

“Y/N?”

At his call you startle, fingers shooting up to wipe the salty residue from your cheeks. You sniff, trying to compose yourself.

“What are you doing here, Calum?” You ask, avoiding your best friend’s gaze as he strides towards the bed, concern written across every feature of his face.

“Your mum texted,” he says, carefully getting onto the side of the bed. You let your eyes spread across his figure, drinking in every detail. It’s been a mere hour since you last saw Calum - you’d parted ways after school. But, since then, he’s changed into a grey teeshirt and a pair of skinny jeans.

“She’s worried about you. ‘Said she didn’t know what was wrong with you,” he explains, chuckling a little. You watch as he pushes back the chocolate curls of his hair and shifts a little closer to you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” His voice softens, eyes flooding with nothing but love.

You sigh, beckoning him closer. Like the both of you have done many times, Calum slides up the mattress until he’s laying down and facing you. A hand reaches out and slots into yours, his warmth contrasting the coolness that runs through your veins.

“I’m lonely,” you admit, a weak smile working its way across your face. Calum knits his eyebrows together, a small frown settling on his lips.

“I’m right here,” he says, not seeming to understand.

“No, Cal,” you pause, taking a moment to think through your phrasing. “Everyone around me - around us - are getting together. They’re young and innocent and they’re falling in love. I just…” You trail off, closing your eyes. “I want to feel like that.”

You’ve yearned for emotional intimacy for as long as you can remember. You want to be wrapped in the type of love that leaves you feeling dizzy and wondering how you could’ve lived before being touched by such a powerful emotion.

“Hey, guess what,” Calum says, squeezing your hand. “I get lonely too.”

You look at him, arching an eyebrow. “Really?”

He hums, nodding his head. “Some days it’s like a passing cloud - only there for a few moments before moving on. But other days, it never moves. Makes me feel like I’ll never be good enough for anyone and question if I’m worthy of love like that.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, shuffling a little closer to your best friend. The spongy softness of the mattress allows you to sink in, managing to move close enough to him so that you can feel the gentle waves of heat drifting off his body.

“Calum, you deserve all of the love in the world,” you comfort, a little taken aback that he feels that way.

“Well, so do you,” he fires back. You shake your head.

“I don’t think anyone could put up with me for the rest of our lives, I can be a difficult person to get on with.”

You glance up, meeting Calum’s unwavering gaze. You watch as his line of sight flickers a little lower, settling on the curve of your soft lips.

“I would love to, Y/N. You mean everything to me,” he admits, a small blush burning across his cheeks.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” you fire back, heart beating erratically.

“Would I do this if I was ‘just saying that’?” Calum moves slowly - so slowly that, at first, you doubt he’s going to do anything - tilting his head to the side and moving towards you. His lips close the gap, gently brushing against the warmth of your mouth. You close your eyes, the natural reflex kicking in, and savour the moment.

Nothing has felt more right than the way his lips slot against yours.

Calum pulls back a few moments later, a small smile laced across his face.

“We can carry each other, alright?”

You smile, nodding as a line of tingles spread down your spine.

“Okay.”

//18//

“Please, Calum,” you say, watching as the boy hurries away from you.

Through the crowded airport, it’s easy to lose sight of the brunette - especially seeing as he’s taken it upon himself to walk as quickly as possible.

“Calum!” You find yourself yelling, attracting a few angry looks from the people around you. Pushing everything from your mind, you begin to jog after the boy, praying he hasn’t gotten too far ahead.

Your eyes fall on him a few minutes later, picking out his bright green travel suitcase through the crowd.

“Calum, c’mon, please-” your boyfriend spins around, exasperation clear on his face.

“Leave me alone, Y/N,” he says, anger flashing through his eyes. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You can’t leave like this - not with us like this. Please, we need to sort this out before it’s too late,” you plead, reaching out to touch his arm. Calum leaps back as if he’s been electrified, hissing through his teeth.

“Bullshit!” He exclaims loudly, his outburst not going unnoticed by a number of travellers around you. “It’s already too late! It became too late when you tried to break up with me a matter of minutes before I left for tour.”

“It wasn’t like that, you know it. You’re twisting my words,” you defend, irritation slipping into your tone.

“Oh, really? Well, sorry if I thought ‘Calum, I think we should take a break whilst you’re away’ sounded like a breakup line,” he spits back, continuing on his way to his gate.

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion- Calum, stop running away!”

If not for the adrenaline rushing through your body, you’d almost find this moment amusing.

By the time you catch up to him, he’s joined the queue for his flight, passport clutched between his fingers. He’s gripping it so harshly that his knuckles have turned a pale white.

Your eyes land on his bandmates a few metres away, all of them keeping their distance. You imagine, with the way Calum’s body language suggests he’s pissed, they’ve picked up on the general vibe of your conversation. 

“Calum,” you say, frustrated tears welling up in your eyes. “That isn’t what I meant, I’m just-”

“Just what? Bored of me? Don’t love me anymore? Pray tell, Y/N. I thought things were going okay,” he runs a hand through his hair, finally meeting your eyes. “I thought we could get through this.”

“I’m sorry!” You say, the words not enough. Calum shakes his head.

“Why? Just tell me, why?” The defeated look on his face ignites a fire that slowly begins to work its way through your body. This will not be the thing that makes you separate. Calum means too much for you to give up without a fight.

“I was scared. I didn’t want you to leave for nine months and,” you pause, wincing, “fall out of love with me. Or, worse, find someone else. Or just forget about me! So I’m sorry that I freaked out at last minute, and I’m sorry I’m not leaving you alone, but I don’t want this to end like this.”

He sighs, dropping his shoulders. “You were just worried,” he says, more of a statement than a question.

You nod. “I’m sorry I let it get the better of me. I don’t want to lose us.”

Calum pauses, taking a moment to think. You can see the cogs turning behind his eyes and hope, with every ounce of strength in your body, that it isn’t too late.

After a moment more, he reaches out to take one of your hands, entwining the fingers and giving you a tight squeeze. 

“I was worried too,” he admits, breathing out heavily. “I thought you’d let me go. I thought I’d leave and, when I came back, you’d have moved on without me.”

“I could never do that, Calum. I love you too much,” you say quickly, believing every word. With the vulnerability in his eyes, you begin to relax, sensing that any prior anger has melted away. 

“Then believe me when I say that I have no intention of leaving you. We carry each other, that’s what we’re meant to do. I’m not letting go anytime soon.”

You smile, nodding your head. “I’m sorry,” you say, receiving a harsh glare from Calum.

“Enough of that. It’s okay - I understand now,” he steps towards you, so close that you can feel his hot breath fanning across your face. “I love you, and we are going to get through this.”

“We’re going to get through this,” you echo, a flitter of hope creeping through you.

“Yes, we are.” And with that, Calum seals the deal with a soft kiss.

//26//

“The invitation arrived,” you say, pulling a crisp envelope out of a pile of letters. You slip your finger under the seal and rip it open, pulling out the wedding invite a moment later.

“Who’d have thought,” Calum’s voice fills your ears as his hands slip around your waist. “Out of all of us, Luke is the first to settle down.”

You hum in agreement, a pang of jealousy shooting through your chest. Sensing the shift in your mood, your boyfriend nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck. 

“What’s wrong?” He enquires, pressing a kiss against a spot of sensitive skin. You sigh, tilting your head to look down at him.

“Just thinking, that’s all,” you explain, shrugging off his arms and walking through to the kitchen. Calum follows you like a lost puppy, lips curling into a pout. 

“Thinking about what?” He persists, slipping onto a bar stool as you begin making yourself a cup of tea. 

“Nothing,” you say, not in the mood to discuss your innermost thoughts. A silence falls across the room until Calum makes a sound of understanding. 

“I get it, this has something to do with Luke’s wedding, doesn’t it?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” you mutter, clearing your throat. “Maybe,” you say, louder.

“What is it? I don’t like it when you’re upset, Y/N.”

You stay silent, debating whether or not you want to open up to him about the battle raging inside your head. 

“I don’t…” You trail off, pouring water into your mug. Calum gives in, knowing better than to press you.

“I’m just gonna keep on talking until you feel better,” you roll your eyes, having expected nothing less. “Luke’s been talking about this wedding for months - maybe ever years, now I think about it. He’s always been into the relationship thing. Wants to get married, have kids, buy a nice house. I mean, so do I, but that’s besides the point-”

“Why haven’t you ever asked me to marry you?”

You turn around, watching as Calum reacts to your question. He alternates between gaping at you and shutting his mouth, apparently taken completely off guard by the blunt approach of the question.

“I… We talked about this. You said you weren’t ready,” he says, looking confused. 

“Calum,” you walk closer, looking at him from across the kitchen counter. “We had that conversation two years ago while you were still touring. A lot has changed in two years.”

“Oh,” he says, blushing. His entire face lights up, a small smile working across his face. 

“I’ve been dreaming,” you begin, starting to walk around the counter. “We can do better than this, Cal.”

“Well, I’ve been dreaming too,” he says, reaching to place his hands on your waist.

“Maybe we should dream bigger,” you suggest. “I want to marry you. I want us to have beautiful kids. I want to love you and stay with you forever. I want this for us, and I know we can do it.”

Calum grins, his teeth glinting in the dimmed lighting of the room. “And when things get tough, we can do what we’re supposed to do; we can carry each other.”

You nod, steeping forward. 

“We’re going to do this,” you say, beginning to get excited. Calum nods, eyes sparkling earnestly.

“We’re going to do this.”

Masterlist | Request 

#pls go listen to the song #(i found it on teen wolf and i hope i did it justice omg - it was harder than i'd thought to fit in the references rip) #5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum hood #calum imagine #5sos imagines #5sos imagine #5 seconds of summer imagines #michael clifford #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #5sos writing #5sos smut #tadpolehemmings writes #my writing #y/n use #self insert

[neuroma-neuroses]

Repeat this three times fast: translabyrinthine resection for an acoustic neuroma

Here’s the bit of this whole brain tumour adventure I was really dreading: actually getting the bloody thing out.

Reuben and I got married two weeks after I was told my tumour wasn’t malignant, an emotional feat in itself. The statistical improbability of a tumour I’d had for at least ten years becoming symptomatic during my wedding is mind-boggling. The neurosurgeons had given me hardcore steroids to reduce the swelling on my brain, but I delayed taking them before the wedding as they could have nasty side-effects. Gargantuan, messy, vain mistake. I spent my wedding night in the emergency room, vomiting up champagne and hors d'oeuvre due to brain swelling. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to change out of my wedding dress before this adventure.

After a flurry of CT scans and terse conversations with my neurosurgical team, they confirmed my swelling had gotten worse and were unsure about signing me off to travel for my honeymoon. An agreement was eventually reached, whereby I acknowledged the danger of travelling to a far-distant land cast back many decades in medical technology known as ‘New Zealand’. I spent much of my honeymoon guzzling anti-nausea medication, unable to sleep due to the steroids and dreaded the ending of the trip. I knew that as soon as I got back, the cogs would begin to turn and the surgery would be close at hand.

During our honeymoon, we went to Wanaka’s Puzzling World, which had its own tilted room. As a preface to the room, they had a huge sign saying IF YOU HAVE BALANCE ISSUES, DO NOT ATTEMPT THE TILTED ROOM. Well, I had a tumour on my balance nerve. What transpired was one of the weirdest sensations of my life. It felt like my head was on backwards. Reuben had the foresight to film it.

My mum called me the minute we landed, exalting that we were on Australian, tumour-eradicating soil once more. I steeled myself for the frantic phone call, telling me my surgery date.

Then...nothing.

The insurmountable wait before this huge surgery was harrowing from a mental health perspective, but not for the reason you’d expect. I was told my surgery was category one as the tumour had gotten so big it was pressing on my brainstem, but then faced a solid month with no contact from my medical team. I had cancelled all jobs, so I had nothing to distract me. The wait was excruciating.

I tried to keep myself busy, but by this point my tumour was interfering with my everyday life: I could barely walk, was constantly nauseated and dizzy so was mostly bed bound. As though my physical state wasn’t enough, my anxiety disorder decided life could get a bit spicier too. Anxiety is a physical manifestation of the fear that something bad is lurking off in the distance: sweaty palms, racing heart, shortness of breath, a dark shape moving in the water on the horizon. I knew something bad was around the corner, I just didn’t know when it would strike.

I called the hospital everyday; the admin people got sick of me pretty quickly. ‘No, we’ve not assigned your case yet. WE’LL contact YOU when it happens.’

I just sat at home all day, every day, too sick to move around much, willing that phone to ring with every cell in my body. I just wanted the surgery done and dusted, not as a looming spectral presence on the horizon. The pain of the wait seemed so much more intolerable than what I was about to go through.

Being creative seemed to take all my strength and happiness and I didn’t have any left. My picture book ideas were left half-finished, illustrations half-done. I cried to Reuben every day. I was unsure if the surgery was happening in months or a few short days. The cherry on top was the medication cocktail I had to take. The anti-inflammatory drug I was on, dexamethasone, increases cortisol in the body, so I was in perpetual fight or flight mode, one long, excruciating panic attack.

All of my medications for the acoustic neuroma, artfully placed. I call this piece ‘Having a Brain Tumour: My Pharmacist Now Knows Me By Sight’.

Finally, FINALLY, I got a call to meet the ENT team involved in the procedure.

The consultant was brusque and efficient in the way that people whose time is highly compensated seem to be. ‘Your chance of dying or stroke is 1 in 100,’ he told me point blank.

I had a big, gulpy cry in corridor outside his office, which he happened to walk in on. Reuben later told me that was good, ‘You convinced him you were taking it all seriously’. He was full of these inner workings of the mechanisms of the hospital, which were all highly political and cutthroat.

The cogs were finally in motion. Over next two weeks, I was at the hospital nearly everyday after a month of no contact: MRIs, CT scans, neuro meetings, MDT follow ups, clinic meetings, pre-admission clinic...it was never-ending. I sat in waiting rooms for over 30 hours. Finally, I got given a date: 17th of February.

That morning, I was oddly tranquil. I made a plant watering schedule for Reuben. I dressed in my favourite Gorman dress. My parents met me at the hospital at 6am, having gotten up at 4am to make it from their country house. My dad had died of a head-related cause ten years ago in the same hospital. I had to walk the same steps I had taken then through the hospital atrium, when the doctors had told us he could die at any time and I hadn’t wanted to be in the room for it.

In a waiting room, after barely a minute together with my family, I was saying goodbye to them. I had to change into a hospital gown. My rings were sticky-taped to my fingers. I was calm, joking with the nurse about how I didn’t drink or smoke. The bruque consultant appeared again and drew a big arrow on the right side of my neck, marking out the tumour.

It was only as I was wheeled into a small anteroom and the nurses began to congregate and talk to each other instead of me and I knew it was on. My breathing hitched up. The anesthesiologist misjudged his cannula. My blood was everywhere. He cast about wildly for a common topic to discuss as this all got mopped up.

‘Do you like dogs?’

I felt myself laugh-crying.

The hubbub around me ceased and I realised I was alone in the anteroom. If I were to be praying to a god to spare my life, this is when I’d do it, I thought. But I was too scared even for that.

The anesthesiologists returned and wheeled me into the surgical theatre, chatting about ice-bars. I tried to tell them about the amazing one in Queenstown. The next thing I remember is clasping each of my sisters’ hands as I lay in bed, then being very grumpy that someone had the audacity to take me from my comfy bed into a CT scan. I opened my eyes: everything was skewed 90 degrees anti-clockwise. I slept solidly for two days, finally awakening to be told it took 13 hours, had all gone okay but I’d lost my hearing.

I can barely remember the first fews days after surgery. I recall my mum being by my side always, I recall vomiting a lot (a cut balance nerve will do that to you). On the third day after the surgery, I was sitting up in bed and joking about the hospital food. I was discharged after five days.

Post op two days. So much blood and iodine!

I recuperated remarkably fast. I didn’t have any CSF leaks or major complications apart from them having to leave a portion of the tumour behind. I was particularly worried about the pain associated with the procedure and how wretched I would feel afterwards. Honestly, it was bearable and a lot less horrific than I expected. The wound on my stomach from the fat transfer used to patch the tumour resection has been the most painful surgical site!

My tummy post op week two. SO FLIPPING PAINFUL. 

The after effects of the surgery have been more or less what I expected: my dizziness is still persistent like before the operation, but I’ve noticed that I’m not falling over every two steps anymore. Hopefully the dizziness will improve; I’m certainly doing enough physiotherapy! I’m adjusting to the hearing loss slowly, which isn’t helped by the fact that I have raging tinnitus in my dead ear.

I’ve observed the surgical after effects with the detached curiosity of a kid with a science experiment. Oh, I can only taste bitter things on my right side now? Weird! Only the right side of my face is aching like it has been bruised? Strange! I can only cry from one eye now? Cool!

One week post op

Two weeks

Three weeks feat. cat

One month

Five weeks

Apart from intermittent aching which is usually dulled by the painkillers I’m still on, the operation site itself has been numb for five weeks now, which feels very odd. It also feels strangely tight, like they didn’t spare me enough skin when they were stitching me up. I had trouble lifting and lowering my head and mentioned so to one of the ENT surgeons, who cheerfully rejoined that that specific muscle had to be cut the restitched during the surgery. I’d found this to be the most annoying surgical after effect; it feels like I have a painful neck crick if I engage that muscle in the slightest. 

The brace that held my head in place for the 13 hours of the operation left painful indentations on my forehead which I’d read about in others’ accounts. In the first few days after the surgery, their pain annoyed me more than anything else. It looks like they may scar now.

One of the brace wounds. Annoying bugger.

I sustained a second degree facial paralysis during the surgery as the tumour was wrapped so tightly around my facial nerve they ended up leaving a bit in there to preserve it. The paralysis has nearly resolved itself! For a few weeks after the operation, my smile was very wonky. Now it’s only noticeable if I’m tired or putting lipstick.

Two weeks post op, wonky smile!

Five weeks post op, somewhat straight smile! Now, I need my dexamethasone chipmunk cheeks to deflate please.

The slow pace of recovery is also very boring to me. I thrive on stress, with a million plates in the air at all times, so having no purpose but to heal has been a very strange experience.Mostly I just feel like I’m recovering from a nasty flu; all wibbly and wonky and fatigued. I’m slowly picking up work again in my fifth week post op, but I’m being kind to myself and not adding too much pressure to get better right away.

#Acoustic Neuroma #Acoustic Schwannoma

[thirst-order-confession]

Could I please request Bodhi reacting to fem!rc, who is normally neatly dressed and tidy and soft spoken, chest deep in an Xwing or other space ship engine? Messy hair, jacket off, maybe a grease smear across her face and hollering back and forth with the pilot of the ship but with a wide smile on her face? Sfw or Nsfw I don't care. I just want to see more Bodhi stuff. ^_^

Hey there thanks so much for this ask! I had a blast writing it. It’s pretty long since it took on a mind of it’s own. I adore Bodhi and I kinda wanted to showcase the fact that the rebel Alliance was becoming a family and home for him. This is more of a snippet in the life of both the reader and Bodhi who have yet to define their relationship. 

PS: I took on a different approach to Bodhi’s shyness. In the movie he has a lot of nervous energy rather than outright shy tendencies so I focused in on that. :3 

It was a wonder that the X-wing made it back at all. Not many pilots came back from head on collisions with the rough terrain of that day of the week’s battle setting. By this point (Y/N) had seen it all; from paint jobs withered away by meteors to ships half filled with water it’s pilot miraculously sitting amongst the sea life. But some crashes drove home just how much was at risk; that the job of an X-wing fighter went beyond the amazing feats and the stuff of legends. Some cost lives some simply spoke of dumb luck.

The well position shot that brought the ship down scorched through via the nose of the plane, showcasing the intricate wiring below that had formed an almost perfect halo running along the length. Embedding in the cockpit somewhere just above where Hobbie’s head rested, was just that, dumb luck that took down the plane but spared the pilot.

And here Hobbie stood, arm in a sling ready to get back into the piece of what could only be called scrap metal at this point, tear off his cast and fight the good fight. Thankfully for his health and the sanity of Vrogas Vas, who reckless in his own right, played the role of the concerned squad leader well, the x-wing was not going anywhere anytime soon. Effectively grounding the hot shot pilot and all but, condemning his X-wing to be broken down into scrap metal. It’d serve it’s purpose for the rebellion either in battle or as a way to get the money to fuel the ins and outs no one but those inside the base thought about.

To Hobbie the X-wing was like an extension of himself and while Poe could sympathize in some ways, he knew when to let go. Having totalled two crafts before the one he now rode with well practiced ease.

“Hobbie…”

“No no, (Y/N), look before you say anything hear me out. She’s given me a good run and saved me life. I’m repaying the favor. I’ve tried asks the other mechanics around but now one will touch it or even go near me at this point!” His frustration was imminent by the ruddy color that had settled on his high cheekbones causing the blue of his eyes to become more prominent. The same blue eyes he tried batting the way of another mechanic just days before. All it took was one look at (Y/N)’s softening demeanor to see that he struck a chord; Hobbie let out a breath he didn’t know he was hold, thankful for the fact that he didn’t have to charm the straight laced mechanic. He knew better than to try that with (Y/N) who was plainly head over heels over one of the bases resident heroes, Bodhi Rook.

Quickly, the Jedha pilot, who played a major role in the battle of Scariff, became the talk of the base. Unlike Cassian he did not hold the same prickly demeanor that urged people to not waste his time. It was to the point that the shy pilot couldn’t go anywhere without being stopped. Words often taken out of context, whispered amongst the base inhabitants. His role in it all blown of proportion until he was soon looked at like one of the war heroes the empire had warned him against. How things had changed in the past 6 months for him. Going from a cargo pilot who was simply another cog in the machine to one of the most wanted men in the galaxy along side names like Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor.

It was for these reasons that he felt so at ease around (Y/N). Treating him as any of the new recruits she’d often helped with navigating the maze like hanger of Yavin. When days were especially hot and the asphalt of the semi exposed hanger seemed to bake the pilots alive, Bodhi, would often spot her resting against one of the gargantuan walls of the pyramid like structure; peering out into the expanses of green that peaked through the fog. Despite the heat (Y/N) always dressed up to code in her regulation jumpsuit, hair neatly tied back from her eyes, small smile reserved for him as she called him to join her. This is where he’d spend what few moments he could spare. Soon Y/N didn’t have to ask instead he simply gravitated towards the mechanic who magically seemed to avoid the grease and rust stains that colored all others in her division. The months blended into a tempestuous routine of Battles, missions and quiet afternoons joking around with one of the sharpest mechanics in the rebel alliance.

Today was one of those odd days spent in his psydo-home. The endless green now as familiar to him as the inside of the craft his piloted. Back from a three week mission on the other side of the Galaxy his body screamed at him to rest but his mind had other ideas. Deep brown eyes darted around from face to face. The mix of tan and garishly bright orange jump suits blurring together as he ran around. All eager to get back to their dorms after a long day of fixing the unfixable and doing the impossible. Not paying attention to where he was going Bodhi accidently rammed into an unsuspecting person. A sharp intake of breath was broken by the deep chuckle that rumbled from under civilian clothing of the grounded pilot. “Hey Bod! Welcome back, what’s the hurry?”

“Sorry Hobbie! Didn’t see you there..” Bodhi rattled off; talking a mile per minute as always. “How’s the arm” He added in; wincing as he looked Hobbie over. He looked no worse for wear, certainly less delirious since he last saw him. He could clearly picture Hobbie than, high on adrenaline, it took several of them to hold him down. All but tackling him as he continued on his tirade about the hell he’d bring to the empire after what they did to his X-wing. He was strong for a little guy..

“Oh good as new” The wry smile Hobbie offered did not seem to match his statement. But nothing could curve the joy that came from finally getting his way. (Y/N) had said yes after all. A reluctant yes, but a yes nonetheless.

Bodhi smiled at that. Playfully slapping Hobbie on his tender shoulder light enough not to truly hurt but hard enough to cause him to swallow his pride and wince. “Fuck’in hell..”

 “Oh yeah definitely up for the turbulent flights. Being knocked around in the cockpit.” He joked good naturedly, shyly brushed stray strands of inky black hair out of his eyes. A nervous habit that still persisted despite being around friends. Hobbie was at least above hero worship, set on making a name for himself rather than hanging off the arm of someone else. “Hey I will be as soon as my ships good as new.”

Bodhi’s eyes widened comically taking in the smug smile across Hobbie’s face. No one in their right mind would have touched the scorched scrap metal. “(Y/N) will have it fixed in no time. Yeah she gave me some grief about it, stating that it’s take the better part of the next ten years to fix it or that I had a better chance of getting K2 to like me but I’m optimistic”

“She can fix anything that’ll run.” He said confidently, fully aware of the stubborn nature of the object of his affection. “ I just don’t know if she won’t kill you before it’s done”.

Three hours had passed since Hobbie had all but pulled at (Y/N)’s heart strings. “Stupid Hobbie and his stupid love for this stupid piece of junk. I should just melt it down myself not that it sell for much is there anything that still works?!” She muttered in between grunts as she unscrewed a bolt. Her words held little bite, more annoyance at the current task at this point to warrant any real threat. The melted metal of what was meant to be heat resistant giving her a good arm workout amidst the sharp edges and bare wire inside. Everyone in her little corner of the workspace had left long ago; going with nightfall. Now all that kept her company was the stickly breeze that would come in every now and then to lick at her bare arms every time she came up from the bowels of the beast of the ship to take a breath. The long sleeved jumpsuit long ago unzipped tied haphazardly around her waist, showcasing the tight fitted once white, now horribly stained grey tank top she wore underneath.

Torso deep, grease had made it’s way up her forearms giving off the illusion of sporting odd mismatched, slick, stripes and patches along feverish skin. Her hair fanned around around her, like a halo; having come undone as sharp corners and randomly placed bolts within the machinery snagged the plaits in her hair. Brand new nails held in between her teeth. The R2 droid assigned to help her letting out concerned beeps every now and then. Met only by a unbeat indiscernible tune as a response.

By the time Bodhi had gotten away from Hobbie and just about every other person who wanted an update on his latest mission (Y/N) was tugging on a twist sheet of metal with all her might. Feet planted firmly apart before the metal groaned and bent back into shape with a loud clank. Glistening from the light sheen of sweat that build up on her tired form he marveled as she watched her laugh triumphantly. Fists pumping in the air as turned to the droid. “Ha! Hell yeah I told you I could move it!” The encouraging chirps were halted by the sound of Bodhi’s approaching footsteps. They seemed painfully loud in quiet of the night. “Bodhi!” (Y/N) said breathlessly, deft fingers quickly moving to tan jumpsuit as she wiped her hands with practiced ease on the course material.

“Welcome home”.

He swallowed hard. It seems that whenever he was around her he either seemed to find it infinitely hard to find words or to stop the trainwreck of sentences that sped through his mouth. It seemed that today his mind favored quiet as he drank in the odd sight. Gone was the picturesque look of the feisty mechanic, in it’s place was one he had never seen before. Her love for what she did truly showed she had never seemed more beautiful than she did now in her natural habitat. Relaxed with an open smile, grease smeared on the bride of her nose though, he doubted she had noticed.

“You did quick work. It’s looking less like a hopeless case now”. He offered at last finding his words. It earned him a breathy laugh. The air seemed to grow more humid or was it simply the heat of the blush that was spreading through his body that caused the wind to provide little relief. “Hey I’ll have you know that this is now slightly functioning scrap metal rather than a neat pile of junk”. He smiled at that, both at ease and on edge by her very presence. Naturally the two seemed to draw closer. Gently he brushed away stickly locks from her forehead, returning them to the wild mass that still vaguely resembled a braid.

Her smile softened, leaning into the slight touch. Unspoken attraction and feelings buzzed around the two like the odd lightning bugs that (y/n) had seen some of the new recruits capture in jars. Her words from earlier had just struck him. This was home. From the quirky x-wing pilots that both livened the place and went to places that no doubt haunted them to the brilliant mechanics that kept everything running. Happy to simply do what they do; not calling for any more thanks than what was given always. Always ready to tackle the next job without complaint and here he was somewhere in between hero and average pilot. A part of something bigger than himself, a cause that didn’t strip away who he was but rather welcomed it.

The kiss came abruptly, no words were shared, no fairytale moment just a simple gesture between two people who didn’t need any words to convey what they felt. Her lips were warm against his own tasting vaguely of lip balm she’d often apply and heat. Undemanding almost lazy in their languid exploration of his lips; natural. He returned it with a bit more vigor. Nervous energy focused in on a single task; memorizing the shape as he might memorize star maps.

The loud crash and unceremonious beeps of the fallen over R2 brought them back to where they were. He was the first to break the kiss breathless eyes that he hadn’t even registered close opened. (Y/N) stood there with a giddy smile. The same he had seen moments ago. Her lips twitched before she let out a snort followed by a breathy laugh. If anything the R2 unit complained even more. Bodhi soon found himself laughing at the expense of the poor little bot. “I don’t think it’ll want to help you after this.”

“You good with a wrench Rook?” (Y/N) said as she jutted out her hips, balancing her weight on her left side. “Well more like holding a flashlight if we’re going by what he was doing”. Warm eyes darted to the droid that had somehow righted itself.

“Depending on how well you do, you might just get a reward”

“Oh yeah are you kidding me? I’m the best flashlight holder in the base” he stuttered out. No doubt his face was as red as the streaks that ran along the x-wing. But he could honestly care less. What he had (Y/N) was not defined but he had all the time in the world to figure that out.

“If that’s the case neither one of us will be getting any sleep tonight.”

Sorry I didn’t get to the NSFW stuff. This would have been waay longer if I had. This was already well over 2000 words. I’m always happy to write more of this! tho ;) 

#Mod Remy #Bodhi Rook #He's a small bean and I love him #SFW #Sorta slice of life #Feel good #random R2 unit ruining the moment

[ciathyzareposts]

Nippon Safes Inc. – Back with a wrench-ance

By Torch

Doug Nuts here again. Being a genius, I usually like to get by in the world using my brains. This time, however, my legs have done most of the job

Last time I left off trying to figure out how to win the grand opening competition at the restaurant Kaizen-Sushi (or Kaiten-Zushi. I’ve stopped caring). The prize is an all-you-can-eat meal at the restaurant. I’m 99% certain I need this to give to Dino, in exchange for a ticket to tonight’s Sumo match, which I need to give to the taxi driver to have him take me to the monastery.

Also, I had a voucher for a free bean tasting at the very same restaurant. I couldn’t figure out if Doug already received the beans when I presented the voucher, or if I was supposed to pick them up somehow, but according to commenter Vetinari, Doug ate them on the spot. So I hope I’m good.

Back to the job at hand. Now, maybe my adventure gaming skills are getting rusty in an age of easily accessible, hand-holding AAA-games, but I feel that a lot of this play session was all about brute force. It’s a good thing my metro ticket is an all-day pass, or I would be in big trouble. Also, I’m all but ready to declare Doug’s wrench this chapter’s MVP ( Most Valuable Pocket-filler ).

I’ll spare you most of the back-and-forth, train trips, park strolls and such, and jump right to my first new discovery. Let’s head back to Doug’s apartment and take a new look at his “larder”. You may remember me mentioning a radio in the previous post, that I could do anything with. Well, turns out that I can.

Strange choice of words. And I think using a screwdriver would be more realistic, but I’ll take it. 

Using the wrench I’m able to “dismount” Doug’s radio, and I’m rewarded with…. a… thing! Ok, it looks like a speaker. Why oh why, game, couldn’t you include at least a mouse-over description of inventory items?

Lower left item. It’s either a speaker or a propeller. Or a really weird hat. 

With my newfound appreciation for the wrench, I decide to use it wherever I can, and lo and behold:

Chan to the rescue

Finally some progress. Honest Chan accepts the wrench and will let me trade it in for either a large or a small pot. (He also lets me trade back afterwards). At this point, some cogs in my brain that I believed to be rusted shut, start moving again. My theory is: If one of the pots is the same size as the one in the restaurant, perhaps I can somehow fill it with balls and count them, so I can “guess” the correct number of balls and thus win the competition. Great stuff, but there’s one problem��� What kind of balls are they, and where can I get some? Anyway, for now I’ll take the big pot.

  Yay! The pot is my

I go check the department store again. I still have some flyers (dispensed bills), and one of them says something about “Sento baths” and something about soap. Maybe the balls are tiny soaps? But the department store still won’t open. I wonder how they manage to stay in business without customers. Maybe it’s invitation only.

Sigh, and here I had my hopes up. I roam around some more, and after a while, on my 56th (or so) ride on the metro, I notice a poster that I can interact with after the train leaves the station.

More like come and lose, amirite?

Ok, there was a section on Pachinko in the manual. I’m pasting in the whole thing for reference:

Pachinko is a typically Japanese form of fun, and also the most widespread. In Tyoko, for example, where the number of inhabitants is 1.732.461, at least 70% of Japanese men and 30% of the women play regularly. It consists of a machine half-way between a slot machine and a flipper. The game takes place on a vertical surface with holes in it and the nails hammered into it. The players ability consists of making a metal ball bounce on the nails so that it falls into the holes. In this way he can win more balls, until he has won enough or all the balls are finished. The balls won can be exchanged for prizes in proportion to their number. They usually consist of things one uses daily such as chocolate, perfume, cigarettes, and so on. Strictly speaking, exchanging the balls for money is prohibited, although it is a common practice throughout Japan. Scattered all over the country there are over 15.000 Pachinko halls. Each of these contains an average of over 200 machines, and when in use they make a deafening sound.

These tidbits of information about Japanese daily life are fun and interesting, but the thing that struck me about this was the word “balls”. They use little metal balls. Maybe the same ones that can fill my pot? Ok, I’m game. But where’s Subu? Is it a station like Kinza? I still have 100 yen, so I go back to dishonest Chan’s, and, as luck would have it, he sells me a ticket to Subu. One short metro ride later, and I have arrived at a brand new location! Now we’re getting somewhere.

Expectation: Look at all the exits! I can go anywhere! – Reality: Only one works

The Pachinko house is on the right, and boy are they all over this thing called “capacity management”.

This guy is a placeholder for 70% of the city’s male population

I don’t have any money or anything to play with, but I find a single ball in the deposit slot on the machine on the right. This is apparently where you buy ball, or exchange them for other stuff. I can insert the ball in the machine on the very left to play.

Ignore the fact I’m supposed to be playing on the leftmost machine…

Ok, so if I put the ball in and play, I will randomly(?) win or lose a ball. I can’t say I’ve done exhaustive research, but in my attempts, I never went below one or above four. Hardly enough to fill a large jar. To speed up the regular walking animation, I’ve cranked up the performance of Dosbox, and this probably caused me to not discover sooner that you can use items while the ball is in play. The game pauses when the action menu is up. Now, I didn’t have my wrench at the moment, having traded it in for the jar, but looking at the options, I remembered that loudspeakers are built using magnets, so perhaps that could be used to affect the ball? Yes!

Ballsy

Ok, great. But how do I get them into the jar and count them? As I noted during the intro post, it doesn’t seem like it’s possible to combine items…. Only, suddenly it is…

Usually after I select an item, and then bring up the inventory/action menu again, the pointer changes back to the default one, but this time the balls remain attached to the pointer… I’m not 100% sure of the order of left-right clicks, but after some persistent mousework they combine successfully. With the balls in the jar, I can click the whole thing on Doug to count the balls.

Fun fact. When guessing wildly at the restaurant before all this, Doug guesses 7153, and the chef tells him it’s way off….

Back to the restaurant then. When I get there and talk to the chef, though, there’s no dialogue option to guess the number of balls again! Drat… oh, but after I look at the contest jar one more time, I get the option back. Whew! Nice scare there, game. Doug guesses the correct number, and receives a voucher for an all-you-can-eat meal. Fast forward to the Kinza district, I meet Dino again and give him the voucher in exchange for a ticket to the sumo match.

Err… Sure whatever, just give me the dang ticket.

Another quick trip on the metro to meet the taxi driver, who thankfully is back in his spot. Giving him the Sumo ticket totally changes his tune.

Fascinating how his forehead vein remains even when he’s smiling

I could probably order a hit on someone after this, but I settle for asking for a ride to the monastery. Note that after this, the left exit on this screen leads right to the monastery, which is a nice touch.

One does not simply *walk* into the Monastery

As you can see from the screenshot, getting in to the monastery is going to take some effort. So far I haven’t found a jetpack, but if somebody could make one, it would have to be Doug “Einstein” Nuts, right? Anyway, there’s an intercom in an alcove in the wall that lets me call the gatekeeper or whatever. As I approach it, they greet me by my name. How did they know? Well, their zen discipline gives them some supernatural powers.

The “intercom” looks like it’s just a duct that goes up

 Doug presents himself as a wannabe initiate, but the only way to join the order is if one of the other members “reaches a state of universal harmony with all” (read: dies) or I get a letter of introduction from someone very high up. Though they all look pretty high up from where I’m standing…

So it’s back to Tioko (sorry TBD) again to try to find out what I might have missed. At some point I try to trade the jar back to honest Chan. I get my wrench back, and I keep the balls. Hmm… ok? What did the manual say again… The balls are traded in for various items at the Pachinko halls. Ok, back to Subu district. When there I have only one option to trade for.

There’s a Clinton joke in here somewhere

So ok, cigars… New theory coming up…. What if… I go find one of those monk dudes who walk around the city aaaaand…. Offer him a cigar. He smokes himself to death, and…. No, it’s too silly. I still try, of course. But it doesn’t work. The only other thing I can think of using cigars for is to bypass laser based intrusion prevention systems (Yes, Space Quest 4, that’s on you)

I walk around town trying to offer the cigars to everyone I meet, and some point I enter Doug’s home, only to come face to face with a familiar…eh..face.

  Well, for you, I COULD be… Oh wait yeah, that IS me

So I’m guessing each chapter will have some intersection with the others, which is a neat idea, in my opinion. As with Dino, Donna needs Doug to get her something, and she will in return provide something that Doug needs. More specifically she needs a sword, the “Katana Shinjuku”, but the person who has it is in prison. So she wants Doug to break her out. She sought out Doug because he’s an expert in “Money surgery”, which is a good example of the game’s at times strange English.

Er… I think the word you’re looking for is “transplantation”, Doug

In return for freeing the prisoner, Doug requests a letter of introduction from someone high up, and Donna claims to know the emperor (of… Ti/yoko? Of Japan? Why does he live here?), so she agrees to provide this. She leaves Doug with a parting gift before exiting stage right.

Donna certainly lives up to her last name (Fatale)

I haven’t the slightest idea how to get back to prison, or if it’s even the same prison, but I figure it’s time to talk to Max & Kos again, the fourth wall breaking game developers sitting in the Hot Sushi bar to see if they have any more information. They do in fact know how to get to the prison, but they will only part with this knowledge in exchange for some cigars. For once, I’m ahead of the game, even though this puts a damper on my plans to get a monk to smoke himself to death. They tell me you can get below the prison by entering the metro tunnel at the Subu station, so I head there. At the station, I can leave the screen on the right side.

Doug sees hatch. Hatch has bolts. Wrench sees bolts. Bolts go bye. 

Going through the hatch, I arrive once again at a place similar to the one in Doug’s intro: The sewers.

Hope it’s not a maze

It IS a maze, but it’s not too bad this time, as I can find my way around it without having to map. On one screen I find a pick (maybe Doug’s from before?), and on another I end up below the prison.

What’s behind window number 3?

This screen is another example of my issues with the interface. Nowhere on the screen is there any indication of a hotspot if I just mouseover with the default pointer, but if select the pick, I get the option to make a hole on the third wall section from the left. Ok, fine. I make a hole, but it’s kind of small. Not large enough for a person to fit through. More like the one in the intro where I placed the plastic explosives…. Only I don’t have plastic explosives, just the detonator that came in the mail. Ok, I head home to check the mailbox again, and hooray! The explosives have arrived. I don’t quite understand why I couldn’t have gotten these together with the detonator, but there’s probably a reason. Back to the sewer.

I plant the explosives, move away and activate the detonator. Ka-BLAM! A woman emerges from the hole. Good thing she wasn’t sitting near the wall or anything in her probably gigantic cell with multiple walls that would surely protect her from unannounced explosions. Doug’s not too big on EHS, I presume.

Well, first the dinosaurs came….

As a reward for freeing her, she hands me a key to the sword, which is in a secret crypt in the “Residence”, which I presume is the house near the park, where I couldn’t interact with anything. Oh and, don’t they like, take away your belongings when you get sent to prison? Where exactly did you keep this key? Or maybe I don’t want to know…

I head back up and go to the Residence, where I still can’t do anything. But perhaps Doug isn’t supposed to get the sword by himself? I try going home instead, and meet Donna again. We exchange quest items, and I think I’m finally ready to go monastery…ing.

Back at the monastery, the guy in the intercom seems to accept my letter of introduction, so they lower a makeshift elevator.

Eh… where’s the rope?

According to Google Translate, it means “I don’t like bride position”.. Reiko..?

Ahem, if I may direct your attention to this letter by the EMPEROR…!

Despite coming highly recommended by the emperor himself, they want me to perform chores to prove that I’m worthy. More specifically I’m to pick up the leaves scattered around on the ground. Leaf on, leaf off? Oh well. I’m given a stick and a sack to help me. After I’m done, I’m taken to see the Elder, which is a guy that floats upside down in the air.

Yes, I too want to learn that floaty stuff. 

To be accepted I have to pass another test (of course), which is to answer 2 riddles correctly in a row. If I fail one of them, I have to go out and pick leaves again, then come back and try again.

It’s a big plus for the game, that so far it doesn’t seem to be possible to get dead-ended. I guess I’ll reserve final judgment for when I finish it, but so far, so good.

The elder’s riddles are mostly logic or sometimes math based. I’ll give you an example:

“The forbidden city is half as old as time. One thousand million years ago, the forbidden city was two fifths as old as the age of time in a thousand million years.”

This required a little bit of math to solve, but you get a choice of three possible answers, so you could also just guess. In case you want to try to solve this yourself, here’s the answer in ROT13: Gur sbeovqqra pvgl vf frira gubhfnaq zvyyvba lrnef byq.

I fail a couple of times, and one of the times, the guy with the glasses is gone when I enter the main building, which looks to be the monks’ dormitory.

There are several small chambers in here, and scattered throughout are many new additions to my inventory. To save some time, I’ll sum them up. I find: A Buddha figure(not jade), a sheet, some poison(!), 2 floor mats, a sexy magazine, a knife and a bowl of rice. That’s pretty random, but ok. One of the rooms also contains a large, golden Buddha statue.

Thankfully it’s not the jade one

I get back to leaf picking and riddle guessing, and after a couple of tries I’m admitted into the order, whatever that entails. The only difference I can spot, is that I have a new inventory item, that looks like Doug chanting or meditating.

Or he’s been hit over the head with a large cartoon hammer

A lot of new toys to play with, and I’m not sure what to do with them all, but the area to move around with is rather small, so brute forcing is a viable strategy. In the room with the Golden Buddha, I can use the meditation action/item to make the statue float. Guess Doug’s a pretty fast learner.

If I were a buddhist, I’d take offence to somebody trying to speak “whale” to my idol.

The statue rises a bit, but then goes back down. I’m not sure what the point was, but I’m here looking for a safe, and I’ve not seen one so far. Maybe the statue hides one, or a passage to it? I try to humm again and use the stick to hold the statue up, but it doesn’t work. It would probably be way too flimsy to support the weight of the statue anyway.

Out of options here, I go outside to try to find something to use my other newly acquired items for. One strange option presents itself.

No! Bad Doug!

Now this whole next sequence bit I didn’t understand until way after I was done, but it’s sort of starting to make sense now. I poison the fish in the pond, then throw them in the pot in the kitchen to make “fish glue”. Is that a thing that people know..? You can cook fish to make glue?? I had no idea, so I had to Google it, and apparently you can make some sort of glue from fish bladders. All the wiser now, I guess.

On the other side of the courtyard, there are a couple of birds nesting in the trees. During one conversation with the guy who introduced me to the elder, one of them echoed him as he was speaking. Just trying to combine stuff in my inventory I manage to apply the fish glue to one of the floor mats. I discover that I can leave the floor mat on the ground near the trees and put the bowl of rice next to it. Then the birds will fly down to eat rice and get stuck on the mat, after which I can capture them and stuff them in my sack. Poisoning fish and stuffing birds in sacks…. Don’t tell PETA about this game.

With the birds in my posession, the next time I humm the Golden Buddha, one of birds take over afterwards. And the statue floats all the way up, revealing a jade Buddha underneath it. Score! So I guess the statue WAS the safe.

Guess the bird outranks Doug in the monk order hierarchy. Must be why he has that rad mohawk

I’ll just levi-take this

Ok, goal achieved. Time to split. But how? I can’t seem to work the elevator. I thought about tying sheets and mats together to make a rope, but they can’t be combined.

Out by the fish pond, though, there are a couple of ropes tied around some poles, and with the knife, I can cut them down. Note that they do not show as a hotspot unless I have the knife as the active pointer. I’m still not too happy about that, but at least they’re fairly visible on the screen.

Again I struggle with combining things in the inventory. If I pick the ropes and try to use them on the sheet, it doesn’t work. If I pick up the sheet though, I can click it on the ropes to make a parachute. I can’t use the parachute explicitly, but if I run to the edge of the wall above the fish pond, Doug jumps off the side of the building.

Why can’t I see my house from here?

After I land though…. Dun dun DUH! Plot twist!

Chapter completed

With that, the chapter completes, and I’m back to the character selection questionnaire.

What, can I play Doug again..?

Who will I play next? Only time (and reading my next post) will tell!

Tyoko/Tioko (only 2 mentions this time): Tioko: 8 Tyoko: 6

Times wrench used: 4 Inventory items:

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/nippon-safes-inc-back-with-a-wrench-ance/

#retro games #dos games #retro #crpg #adventure #amiga #oldcomputers #8bit #16bit #blog #repost

[topicprinter]

Hey - Pat from StarterStory.com here with another interview.Today's interview is with Robert Patton of SHEATH LLC, a brand that sells premium men's pouch underwear.Some stats:Product: Premium men's pouch underwear.Revenue/mo: $100,000Started: February 2014Location: colorado springsFounders: 2Employees: 0Hello! Who are you and what business did you start?Hello, my name is Robert Patton and I am the CEO of SHEATH, a premium men's pouch underwear company that sells to active men in over 74 countries.If you are not familiar with pouch underwear, our original design has what we call an inverted kangaroo pouch for your joey located inside of the garment to separate the package from the inner thigh region. Our latest models now feature a similarly-designed dual pouch which offers separation not only from the inner thighs, but also for the penis from the testicles, keeping everything dry and comfortable.We sell mainly men's underwear, but recently introduced the women’s line and we are currently generating over $4K a day in sales with that projected to double by end of summer 2019.What's your backstory and how did you come up with the idea?In the beginning, it was an idea based out of necessity. I couldn’t find the product I wanted so I created my own. At the time, I was not strapped for cash because I was in the Army, but I was only making about 50 grand a year risking my life for a cause I no longer believed in.The ideaIt was in Iraq in 2008 when I was on my second tour with the Army 111th Quartermaster Company. As you can imagine, it was hotter than the devil's balls. This time I was in Tikrit and I was on mission.My biggest problem was that I couldn’t help but be annoyed with my underwear situation at the time. The underwear I had been issued were old, loose, saggy and coarse like sandpaper, making my situation downstairs a hot mess with extreme chafing and discomfort. In fact, it was so uncomfortable that I had a “necessity is the mother of invention” moment and I conceived the idea that if everything downstairs (the junk, package, boys, frank and beans etc) was separated, this would eliminate skin-on-skin contact, thereby reducing excessive moisture and improving comfort significantly.So while testing out my prototypes, the boys were now being kept cool and dry rather than compressed and constricted under hot, dark and moist conditions for long periods of time, which, for anyone, comes with undesired consequences, i.e. persistent rashes and/or excessive need for re-adjusting.A failed business in my pastBeing that I was in the army, I had no background in clothing construction development or design, but I did have a background in inventions. I actually, unofficially, invented crazy keys back in 2000. Yes, the keys that have your favorite football team or Disney character on them.I had the idea back in 2000, but quickly gave up after a few months because it was too hard to do the way I wanted to manufacture the keys. Rather than painting the design on, I had envisioned it engraved on the key, which overcomplicated the invention, and ultimately, because it was too complicated, couldn’t find help, so I gave up.This was also prior to reading the book that changed my life, Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill, which would have taught me never to give up at the first sign of defeat. Unfortunately, or as fate would have it, I did give up at the first sign of defeat, as many often do. But the experience wasn’t a total loss.What I took from that endeavor was to keep things simple. Don’t over complicate things. I applied this when conceptualizing SHEATH. Keep it simple. Had I figured out the paint on the key idea back in 2001, which I had actually tried once but with too thick of paint that would constantly chip off, I would have succeeded and my life would have turned out very different - I would have been the key guy with kiosks all over the world in Walmarts and Home Depots, but now I am the underwear guy.Both are cool and I love my current position, but I never forgot my first major invention that failed. Particularly when I saw a “Crazy Key” in a store about 5 years after I had given up, I felt like I got punched in the gut… Fortunately, I was in the Army at the time so I didn’t dwell on it and it wasn’t long after that that I had the idea for SHEATH. So to reiterate, I didn’t have experience at all in underwear or fashion, but I did have experience with inventing and was now armed with the knowledge of keeping the idea as simple as possible and not giving up at that first sign of defeat.The lesson is, in the beginning, keep it simple. Baby steps. It is the key to starting a business. Many people over complicate the matter so much in their mind that they never even make the first move. There is always time to expand on the idea later, once you are solidified and making enough money to turn the cogs of the business.ResearchBefore moving forward with my pouch underwear idea, I did some research to see if the product had already been invented.I noticed on google patent search that in 1981, a man in China invented something similar, and therefore, I didn’t think I had the option to make a full Utility patent, so I decided to create a design patent to provide some protection.Note: Design patents are essentially useless unless you are designing a new shoe. If you are designing something with functionality, you need to attain a Utility patent.With or without a patent, I knew the idea was good because when I would tell friends about it, they unanimously agreed that it was a clever idea. Never did someone say to me, “this is stupid”, aside from the obligatory skeptical family members that felt like I was throwing my life away. (When starting a business or taking a professional risk, be prepared for some of those closest to you to be the least supportive. It’s not always the case, but if it happens, waste no time trying to convince them or change their minds. Drop their opinion and move on. It is a sad truth.)I also knew it was a good idea because I loved the result and it worked. Speaking of the idea, let me explain in greater detail what it is and then I will get back to how I knew it was a potential game-changer.The idea itself is simple; an isolative pouch on the interior of the underwear for the groin region. We describe it as an inverted kangaroo pouch for your joey, a hammock for your soldier, a holster for your gun, a sheath for your sword. These descriptions quickly cue people in on the functionality of the underwear, which is to isolate the male anatomy from the inner thigh region, thereby eliminating the need to readjust by keeping you cool and dry. They look like regular underwear on the outside, but it is what we’re packing on the inside that makes the difference.I noticed on the United States Patent and Trademark Office search that similar inventions already existed, but nothing quite like what I had in mind. This lent credence to my design, as I now knew that others had been on the same track of thought and that there was clearly a demand to be met.Take us through the process of designing, prototyping, and manufacturing your first product.Initially, I hand-stitched together some extremely raw prototypes (zero sewing experience) while I was on tour in Iraq.You can see one here.When I got back from the war, I bought a sewing machine and began playing around with new designs.Eventually, I found a seamstress that would help with making the initial prototype. This was in 2010. I then went onto a website called mfg.com where I was coupled with manufacturers that bid for my contract.I ended up going with a company in Pakistan. The guy called me and told me he would walk me through the process. It was great, but I was too excited and incidentally rushed production when the product samples weren’t ready - the pouch was too high. This set me back a good three years.Note: Never rush production, especially not the one you intend to launch your new business with. You will want to because you think you have to rush to get your product to market, but if you rush it and it’s not right, then you will wish you had been more patient.That being said, everything happens for a reason. I was still enlisted in the army and married at the time, so having a budding business while going through a divorce wouldn’t have been in my best interests anyway.The setback allowed me to regroup on my personal life. I got out of the Army and went back to college by utilizing the Post 911 GI Bill to attain my Bachelors in Organizational Development, followed by a Masters in Business Administration from the University of the Incarnate Word in San Antonio TX.At this time, I had also been working as a tailor’s assistant to learn the craft of garment construction, deconstruction, and reconstruction. I created new prototypes during that time which brings us to 2013 when, finally, my small team and I did our first Kickstarter to help us finalize the payment for our next production.We found that hundreds of people were willing to back the project and get us funded, proving to us that we really had something special on our hands. By the end of the campaign, we were feeling like we were on top of the world. We sent out products to hundreds of satisfied customers who then reordered more pairs and we used those earnings order our next batch of product. Production was well underway and sailing was going to be smooth, or so we thought.Unfortunately, it seemed we had put all of our eggs into an unreliable basket, yet again. Bad pouch placement and riddled with inconsistencies… The new shipment was virtually unsellable. It seemed like an unmitigated disaster and yet another major setback. That’s when I felt it, the same feeling that cost me my designer key invention. Defeat. This is where my new sense of faith and persistence came into play. The old me might have folded at this point, but I didn’t even flinch. I was not about to let it stop me again.We took our lashes, made things right for our customers, assessed our strategy and moved forward. We were able to get 35% of the cost back from the faulty manufacturing, but this was not enough to make a new purchase with a new manufacturer. After a year of hard work righting our wrongs and perfecting our approach, we sourced a new manufacturer to produce our newly revised design and decided to attempt another crowdfunding campaign. This is where we really kicked into high gear.The results may not seem like much, but, since the completion of our 2014 Kickstarter, we have yet to go a single day without sales.When you fail to quit, the universe will do a funny thing. It will actually acquiesce to your desire, though it will test you. When it sees that you won’t give up no matter what, it seems as though the universe will just kind of give in. What that meant for SHEATH was the discovery of a new production company that specialized specifically in men's underwear and had the bandwidth to work with us.They asked if they could make a sample for us, so I sent them one of our existing samples to recreate. What we received in return was noticeably better than what we had sent them. This gave me a great sense of reassurance. I knew that this new and improved SHEATH Underwear, which we coined as SHEATH 2.0, was exactly what we needed to solidify not only our revolutionary concept but our reputation as a company that offers reliable, quality-crafted products.A true concern for quality, along with treating every customer as if they are your one and only, are the key ingredients in creating a successful business. When you have a high-quality product, a supportive team, impeccable customer service, and healthy margins, the rest will take care of itself.Describe the process of launching the business.The beautiful thing about launching a business is there really is no right or wrong way. There is no definitive procedure or rulebook that you must follow to be successful. This is because you never really know what obstacles are going to reveal themselves until they do.We originally started in 2010 with the name SHEATH. The naming took us a few months. We started with Junk Drawers, but found that was taken. We then considered Packaged Jewels and Southern Comfort, but they didn’t feel right. We then began thinking in terms of the functionality and masculinity of our product, which is when we came up with SHEATH. The comparison of a sword being sheathed just as the male anatomy would be sheathed in our garments... it just made sense.Then we bought the URL sheathunderwear.com and started making social media pages, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Youtube, Tumblr, Pinterest. Etc. We didn’t take out any loans in the beginning. It wasn’t until we really began expanding and revenue started becoming reliable that we began utilizing loans to keep up with demand.Fortunately, it didn’t cost a great deal to start the website and keep it running. Also, the majority of our team was working for no pay for the first few years, aside from free underwear, including myself. This is where the ingredient of a supportive team comes into play. You’ll find that the vast majority of self-made individuals always had a supportive team that believed in them and backed their every move.We applied for patents and did all of this out of my pocket, but you would be surprised to find that applying for a patent yourself isn’t very expensive unless you get an attorney involved. For those on the fence about it, there was a law passed a few years ago that gives preferential treatment to individual inventors and requires examiners at USPTO to walk you through the process, therefore you could file for, and get, a patent issued yourself at relatively little cost.This would be less than $1,000 dollars and could protect your idea from infringement by others. This can all be researched and completed on USPTO.gov.During the first 3 years, we saw very little sales and thus, very little income. They were sporadic. Normally, we would only see a handful of orders a month, but sometimes we would have none at all or even as many as 15 orders. We weren’t promoting it heavily because, at the time, we were still in the early production phase and our products did not possess a level of craftsmanship and quality that we were proud of, but we did sell them and the majority of people seemed to like them anyway solely based on the concept. It wasn’t until our Kickstarter in 2013 that we really started to see almost daily sales and, ever since the 2014 Kickstarter, we haven’t gone a day without sales and our annual revenue has been on a steady uptick.The biggest lesson to learn from all this is to never quit. Once you quit, the game is over. As long as you don’t quit, there is always a way to overcome obstacles. Don’t quit, but don’t lie to yourself either. If your product is garbage, don’t deny it - improve it or pivot to a new item all together. On the other hand, if you know what you have is good, don’t cheat yourself from riches. If you truly enjoy and believe in your product, you will find a segment of the population that also likes and believes in your product, guaranteed. As long as you want it bad enough, you will be successful. The true question is, are you willing to put in the work and do you have the patience to stick it out? Are you willing to put in 2-4 years of work with no return, paying yourself next to nothing for the sake of growing the company?Allow me to reiterate. Our company was founded in 2010, but we didn’t see any numbers until 2013, which was immediately followed by another set back. What little revenue we had generated was all lost again. I personally wasn’t getting a paycheck from my own business until 2015, and it wasn’t much. Even since then, I’ve only been able to pay myself somewhere around 50-60k a year since the majority of the money flows right back into the company every month for expansion. So my budget remains tight and my life is far from lavish, but my business is mine. You must be willing to sacrifice for the long term. If you are looking of a quick payout get rich quick business, good luck to you... We have been doubling in sales annually since 2013, and I believe this is all due to me and my team’s sacrifice of the short term payout for the long term legacy.Since launch, what has worked to attract and retain customers?Initially after the launch, we liked to go back to our Kickstarter campaign page every few months to give them updates and spark a response from our backers, but eventually, that ran dry.AdvertisingThe next source of patronage was Facebook. Facebook still, to this day, provides a majority of our site traffic. It may not always be the highest quality traffic, looky-loos who want to see pictures of people in underwear, etc... but visitors from Facebook continuously result in a fair portion of our sales.We also use Google Adwords, but the problem with this is that we have already optimized our SEO to the best of our ability, so most searches that trigger the Google ads tend to organically bring us up in the top search results anyway. So this feels a bit extraneous at times.Targeted AudiencesWe also use Criteo, a remarketing tool that helps us place targeted ads in front of individuals who have visited sheathunderwear.com but have not made a purchase.Below is a graph of sales by month from January 2016 to April 2019. You can see the growth, which has been steady, and this can be attributed to ad targeting strategies, influencer marketing (UFC Fighter Donald Cowboy Cerrone), social media ads, google ads, email campaigns and more. We have also had the spotlight shined on us by going on TV, the Radio, sponsoring local sports teams (Colorado Springs Switchbacks) as well as outdoor expos and really anywhere we can get our foot in.AmazonAmazon has also been a great platform for us to gain new customers as well as offering options to our existing customers who take advantage of Amazon prime. The annual growth in Amazon sales is less noticeable, however, as we have much less control over it compared to our other sales channels. In fact, our Amazon growth has been relatively stagnant the past few years, but we are actively developing new methods to rectify that.We hope to one day have amazon rivaling sheathunderwear.com in sales, the current goal being $1 million sales monthly on each platform.How are you doing today and what does the future look like?Currently, business is good and we are profitable. We are projected to reach a gross revenue of $2 million for 2019. I actually just got back from a Shark Tank audition, so we are not too successful to think that we couldn’t use their help. It’s worth a try and for me, this was my second attempt; the first being in 2013.Compared to our first attempt, we are in a much better position with a far superior product and system in place with a large base of loyal repeat customers to maintain revenue and steady growth. These are things they might appreciate, but we are not counting on that making or breaking us. Regardless of whether we are on the show or not, we will be successful. We already are.When it comes to customers, the lifetime value is yet to be determined, but we have individual customers who have spent over $1,000 on our products. However, we have only just begun achieving this level of loyalty. We have a long way to go.Regarding the cost of acquisition per customer with facebook and google, this varies, but I feel like an average would be about $10. We spend about $200 a day on ads. Whether it’s facebook, google or influencers, the combined cost is somewhere around $200. We will be spending more as time goes on. We are always making progress.Regarding our current operations, we are no longer shipping out of our house as we had for the first 5 years. Last year in October, we moved out of the living room into a warehouse in Nevada, which places us in a far better position to scale. Prior to this move, we were very limited by the space in our house. With the new warehouse, we have full scalability for unlimited growth.As far as the website goes, we average 1-2 thousand visitors per day and our conversion rate has always been about 1.5-2.0%, which we have found to be the industry standard. As of late, it has grown closer to 3 conversions per 100 visitors, which is an improvement. However, we would like to see that number continue to grow.The majority of our sales are from sheathunderwear.com, about 90% of them. Fortunately, that is beginning to change as we are seeing more sales from outside sources as well as amazon’s steady increase of monthly revenue. Other outlets include wholesale accounts and Touch of Modern from time to time.Through starting the business, have you learned anything particularly helpful or advantageous?Building a business really tests you as an individual, as you must utilize essentially everything you’ve learned from all previous experiences up until that point in your life. This is particularly true when it comes to education (school or otherwise), team activities, previous jobs, military training, etc.When you put in the effort to become familiar with and master something, and you don’t give up, you improve your likelihood for success with every moment you spend working at it. When you are driven to your absolute limit during a practice session, that builds the character and fortitude that you will continuously be falling back on when building your business.The person that will be the most successful is the person that has the best ability to deal with discomfort and acclimate to new conditions. Sports, in particular, are a great way to train you to find comfort in discomfort, which is invaluable in all aspects of life.I’m reminded of a funny story of mine about luck and timing. After the first Kickstarter and after I realized that our replenishment inventory was faulty and not up to standard for sales, we were in a state of limbo.I remember that I went to a Joe Rogan Stand up show in Austin, Texas around this time and two major things happened that night. One, After the show, when Joe was doing some crowd work, I - stupidly - through a pair on stage to get his attention. In retrospect, I realize now how disrespectful this was, but what is done is done. He picked up the underwear and read the package and said “SHEATH, A pouch for your package? This has got to be the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard of, or a billion dollar idea.”I like to think it is the latter. I still have the audio of him saying that it was a billion dollar idea, but he has since rejected all attempts at sponsorship for his podcast, quite possibly and most likely because of my interrupting his show to introduce him to SHEATH. Although, I am also aware that he is a very busy person with larger fish to fry. I haven’t taken it personally. I would probably take it back if I could, but what is done is done.The silver lining of this story is the second thing that took place. After we left the show, I was sitting at a red light in Austin and was rear-ended by a taxi. A couple of months later, I got a check from the taxi insurance company for $5,000. I was able to use that $5,000 for a down payment on a new production with our new manufacturer. The remainder of the money was raised through second Kickstarter and the rest is history.So, in a funny, involuntary sort of way, Joe Rogan has played a part in the success of SHEATH.What platform/tools do you use for your business?We are currently utilizing Shopify Plus, but I am hesitant to endorse it as I am not 100% sold that it is worth the $2k a month we are spending on it. They sold me on 10x-ing if I switched to this upgraded platform, and it’s looking like we are most likely going to 2x or 3x for the year, which we’ve been doing on our own all along. If we do officially 3x, then that would technically be our biggest growth spurt yet, but it is hard for us to tell at this point in time if we can attribute it to this platform.We also utilize Klaviyo as our email marketing platform along with Gorgias as our customer service tool. We recently switched to these apps from MailChimp and Zendesk respectively, as we have been advised that these new apps have better track records in aiding budding businesses.What have been the most influential books, podcasts, or other resources?Here is a short list of my major inspirations that I frequently find myself thinking back to and learning from:Think and Grow RichThe Secret (the original movie with Abraham Esther Hicks)Tony RobbinsTim FerrissJoe RoganAdvice for other entrepreneurs who want to get started or are just starting out?My advice for anyone starting out or looking to get started is to read Think and Grow Rich because it really sets a solid foundation while also leaving some of the message up for interpretation for each individual.I also find that the movie, The Secret, has some value to watchers if you can open your mind up to the possibility that thoughts are energy and affect your reality. Thinking positive attracts positive things to you. There is a lot involved in being successful. Some people look at it like a formula, some look at it like magic, some people do a combination of the two.Everyone’s path to success is different, but they all have similar characteristics: an extreme desire and faith that it will work; persistence and the ability to visualize ahead of time; writing down the goal and breaking that goal down into manageable steps from start to finish. My most concise tidbit of advice is this - start and don’t quit until you figure it out. Once you quit, it’s over. There is always a way, you just have to find it.You have to find what works for and motivates you to keep going day in and day out for as long as it takes. Are you willing to sacrifice 20 years to dedicate to this dream without pay? If not, then you may not have what it takes, if so, you do, and most likely it won’t take 20 years.Are you looking to hire for certain positions right now?People sometimes ask if we are hiring. For the most part, we only hire from within our circle of trust since it is such a small company, but from time to time we bring in outsiders. We brought in one last year that asked if he could work for free to show us what he could do and within a week, he was on the payroll.The problem is, most people ask for a job in the traditional sense rather than offer to demonstrate the value of what they can bring us. As a small company with limited resources, it is difficult invest in things without a sense of certainty, but if you can bring value to the organization and prove it to us right off the bat, then we are in business. So at the moment, we are not necessarily hiring, but we are always interested affiliate marketers that will promote the product for a percentage of the revenue on the back end.If you have an audience and are interested in that, please feel free to [email protected] with your numbers and we will get in touch. You can also reach me directly at [email protected] can we go to learn more?sheathunderwear.comIf you have any questions or comments, drop a comment below!Liked this text interview? Check out the full interview with photos, tools, books, and other data.Also, I created a subreddit! (r/starter_story) - I post new stories there daily.Interested in sharing your own story? Send me a PM

#/r/entrepreneur #reddit