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jiminrings · 3 years

Note

can we get a fratboy Jimin and good girl oc with pinning from both sides 👀 ahhhh thank u in advance love ur writing!!

cherry king

drabble week: day four

drabble week masterlist

pairing: fratboy!jimin x goody two-shoes!reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: "y-you uhm, you-? y'know, you like... doing that? is that why it's your nickname?"

feedback + support mean the world to me!!

“next!”

great!! the line’s moving :D

that’s only like the 87th time jimin has heard the word next and it makes him wonder how much more would it take him to bring him to the front

(it’s actually only been 14 times and jimin might just be a self-admitted impatient bitch!!!)

he understands that yes, it’s ten in the evening!!! and reasonably-large stores/pharmacies like these can have less staff at the time compared to ten in the morning

sure, checkout machines and cashier lanes could be broken down!! or they could just not be open at all

jimin gets that alright, maybe the self-checkout machines are close at this time of the night because it is ten in the evening

what’s not clicking in his mind, however is that at the exact time that he comes here

as in the EXACT time that he’s here (!!!) — there happens to be dozens of people in a store at ten in the evening, and there happens to be a grand total of one (1) cashier lane

atleast random store music would be entertaining :((( all he hears are the beeps of a scanner and the chatter of groups of people who came here

jimin was eavesdropping on some guys in front of him and he wAS invested but lmao turns they were just discussing the plot of die hard or any testosterone-jacked movie like it

he’s also tried looking at the smaller middle-aged woman’s phone in front of him who’s scrolling through her facebook feed, but quickly decides against continuing it

because what if u could see his face and when she turns it off, she’d see a college guy deeply-invested in the baloney article she was reading about how subway sandwiches are the work of the devil

so uh yeah he’s just looking everywhere besides the front, back, and the sides of him and in all angles basically

he’s,,,,, aimlessly scrolling through his instagram feed he’s already scrolled through tHREE times and his explore’s page a little too dry

it’s a good thing that jimin’s entirely sure he’s the nosiest person out of this line and no one else is trying to figure him out

might be wrong though

“cherry king?”

hold the fuck on

jimin’s eyes widen, head snapping up and clueless to the fact that he doesn’t look discreet at all, and his head-cocking’s the most movement he’s done the whole time in this store

WHO’S SAYING HIS NICKNAME?????

it can’t be a coincidence either because as far as he’s concerned, there isn’t anything named cherry king that’s being sold here

there is literally NO other plausible scenario happening here besides the fact that someone who knows him is in the store!!!!

his gaze falls to the person behind him, brows knitted in confusion until it clicks

that was you?

“jimin? huh, it really is you. i thought i was losing my mind for a second.”

“y/n?”

okay maybe hE’S the one who’s losing his mind here

he knows you!! you’re the smart girl in his year who’s known for being pristine and stuff!! you’re like the good-est girl he’s ever known and heard of

.... quick question lads is that weird to know someone by

“you could’ve just called me by my name, y’know,” jimin chuckles heartily, still a little dumbfounded to see you here but he’s grateful for the interaction nonetheless

you look casual today?? like you still look like yourself but everyone else would think it’s an out-of-body experience to see you out of your pretty dresses and monochromatic get-ups

it’s you..,.. in a hoodie three sizes larger than your size with your pristine shoes traded in for socked-feet wearing slides

jimin thinks that you look like grace under pressure

“i wasn’t sure,” you smile right back and it’s the first time he realizes that there’s glasses atop your nosebridge, softening your image more from the usual composed look you carried

“how were you sure enough to say my nickname out-loud though?”

jimin questions you, bringing light to how he’s wearing a plain white shirt and is looking as relaxed as ever with how he’s dressed — his hair long enough to be put into a messy sprout of a bun

you clear your throat, the amusement bubbling in your scratchy throat

“you have yourself as your lockscreen, jimin.”

oh my gOD

he winces when you say it, eyes screwing shut in embarrassment that he whines in pain with how direct you put it

“n-no way — fuck you respectfully, y/n. i-i’m not- i’m changing it right now!!”

does he look the vainest person alive rn

the way he has a mini freakout entertains you to your core, giggles unable to be suppressed as he finds the latest-taken picture he has of dogs that he comes across with

that’s 10/10 an experience he doesn’t want to repeat again

“it’s okay. i won’t tell anyone.”

he hears you reassure and he believes you, a flustered blush on his cheek still as he coughs to make up for a diversion topic he couldn’t think of

frankly, you’re getting bored too and jimin’s the only form of entertainment you have because using your phone atm would be too disorienting

“what are you doing here, by the way?”

your head tilts in query and he’s relieved that you address something else, not being relieved seconds later when he realizes his answer

“just a little supply run for our frat. we weren’t supposed to run out of things for three more days, so this is just a lil emergency haul for awhile.”

you nod in understanding, glancing down at his basket and uh

uhm 1/4 of the space is literally occupied by boxes of condoms

....

......

jimin’s confused to why you turn silent, thinking that he must’ve gotten boring to continue talking to until he follows your gaze to his basket

NO WAY?!]>|>]%%[%]%]

“i-it’s not l-like that!!!” he crouches and immediately gets the food and the bottles of shampoo and conditioner to bury the condoms in the bottom of the pile, attractively getting more attention from you who’s ready to let it go

“i-it’s not — it’s ours — n-no!! t-they just gave me a list and i just put it because it’s on the list b-but like it wasn’t my-...”

how many more times will the universe fuck jimin up in front of the person he has a lil happy crush on

you only smile meekly, tilting your head and he thinks this is the part where you tell him how much of a douche he is

"y-you uhm, you-? y'know, you like... doing that? is that why it's your nickname?"

“t-that?” jimin clarified albeit confused, thinking back to his nickname as he tries to rapidly connect the dots to not look like a fool

cherry king? that?? what do you-

WAIT WHAT

“nO!! o-of course not!!”

he almost shrieks and his voice sounds ultimately defensive, shaking his head no

why does he look so frantic

“hey, hey, i believe you! — calm down, jimin. you don’t have to explain anything to me.”

whew

fuck

but he argues that it iS the truth though!!!

but why won’t you just ask him why he’s called cherry king though >:(

you’re already content with the silence after the conversation but he isn’t, still wanting more

is it so bad that he wants redemption D:

“how about you? what are you doing here?”

you don’t answer instantly and it’s because you’re nudging jimin to continually walk, the cashier looking much more visible now as he’s nearer in line

he takes a look at the handful of things that’s in your basket —

electrolytes, hot pockets, soup, cup noodles and fever patches...?

“oh. i think i’m running a fever.”

what???

what are you doing here aLONE if you think you’re running a fever???

he’s not gonna lie about the fact that you don’t look too good

what if you pass out and no one’s there for you and all the graveyard shift employees do is put a wet floor sign around your figure???

“y/n?? what are you doing here alone then?? are you oUT of your mind??”

the panic in jimin’s voice is clear as day and you’re a little startled, instead responding to tapping him on the shoulder to point that he’s already the one on the cashier

what he does is grab your basket before he is, putting it in front of the conveyor belt because he couldn’t even wait for it to roll out

“i said i think i’m running a fever.”

jimin stops from simultaneously rummaging for his rewards card and putting his items on the counter to unceremoniously drop the box of condoms down jUST to put his hand on your forehead

“you are.”

you surely don’t think low of jimin but you can’t help be surprised either at his concern for you when this is the only time you’ve had a conversation with him!!!

“you drove here?” he asks in seriousness, sending you a look while waiting for the total amount

“walked. the airconditioning makes me even more sick,” you answer with no fuss because even thinking about car fresheners while you’re sporting a fever makes you want to gag. “let me-...”

jimin already pays for both your items in cash, getting them bagged separately as he’s not gonna take no for an answer for what he’s gonna propose next

“then i’ll keep the windows down. i’ll drive you back to your dorm.”

he grabs both your bags in one hand and uses the other to beckon you over, holding you still because it’s dark out and a fever vision wouldn’t exactly help

it’s only when he straps you in and (true to his word) puts the windows down and starts his car that you start asking

“why are you doing this for me?”

why IS he doing this for you??

jimin thinks about his answer in a second

“would you do the same for me?”

well

if you were in front of him at a godforsaken line, had yourself as your lockscreen, realize that jimin’s behind you with a fever and is by himself in a store at 10 in the evening

“of course i would.”

jimin smiles, steering away from his parking spot

“then i would too.”

( ♡ )

maybe you’re thinking of jimin

no wait you’re dEFINITELY thinking of jimin

you’re much better now and your fever’s already subsided enough for you to go back to class!!!

the whole interaction with him was three days ago and maybe your head is just full of him at this point

“are you sure you’re okay to handle this by yourself??”

jimin worries when he drops your bag to your hands, briefly coming inside your dorm to set it down

“mhmm. i’ll just sleep it out.”

“i think if you’re missing a couple of steps.”

you snort as his paranoid features, waving him off. “i’ll eat. then go to the bathroom. and then sleep.”

okay good enough

“what if this just-“ jimin trails off, his expansive mind suddenly running as he points to your chest, “stops????”

cute

“i have a smart watch.”

“would you put me as one of the emergency contacts? please?”

he’s making you take down his number without malice because jeez he’s gENUINELY worried!!!!

it may not always be great sharing a house with his frat brothers, but he knows that if he has a fever, atleast half of them would dote over him and you have atleast one who would go into hysterics!!! it’e a full package!!

“i’ll be okay, jimin. i’ll call you when i need someone to hand me my puke bucket.”

“please do. i’m not even kidding. get better now because i miss your dresses.”

o_O

uhm

“n-no i meant your usual style!! wait, not that there’s anything wrong w-with your style right now. i-i was-...”

“yeah. i miss them too. now go home, jimin.”

“you sure?”

u never really had the impulse to invite a guy to go inside your place but maybe now you do

“mhmm. drive safe.”

okay

:-)

“good night, y/n. call me whenever.”

classes were a bit rough today because you’re still easing yourself on getting back to the groove of things, but it was tolerable!!!

you’re getting your key out of your backpack when a lock clicks open a couple doors away from you, the hinge noisily squeaking

it’s jimin who leaves it, with seri who’s the actual occupant of the dorm leaning on the doorframe

“y/n—!”

he squeaks the moment his eyes land on you

your hand automatically waves, the same meek smile for him to see

“jimin.”

( ♡ )

the last interaction you had with him is still on jimin’s mind, a whole week later

it’s been bothering him recently that you know what it looks like the last time around!!!! but he could swear up and down that it wasn’t

he just feels this great urge to explain even if you haven’t asked

“oh. so we have to move out for the time-being?”

jimin clarifies with namjoon, the head of the frat, and he’s met with a solemn nod

it makes sense!!!

the house got checked today and there were mULTIPLE fire hazards!!! and it needs to be fumigated anyway under new campus protocol so it indeed makes sense

practically everyone's going home because it’s a long weekend anyway because of a holiday

and he’s not sure if he wants to take the same route.

“hi.”

jimin squeaks the moment you open your door, surprise evident on your face but not shock to the point you’d close the door on him

“jimin?”

okay maybe he’s gonna go straight to explaining

“frat house needed to be closed because of some complications, and it wouldn’t be open to us for another three days. most of the guys are coming home,” jimin clears his throat, his head down while he shyly scratches the back of his ear, “i have one, but i’m not sure if i wanna.”

it’s that problem

it takes one, two seconds before it all registers in your head, nodding surely

“you can take my bed. i’ll take the couch, it’s a pull-out anyways.”

you open the door for him widely and the only thing you ask if he’s had dinner and if he’d like some

god you’re really throwing him in a loop here

it’s after a batch of your cooking that jimin’s only ache is why you were the way that you were, half-dazed the whole time he’s met you properly

“why do you never ask me?”

“hmm?” you hum as you dry the dishes that you’ve used, wanting to get it done as soon as possible so your full attention would be on him

no, actually. jimin WANTS you to pry!!

he wants you to worm your way into his privacy and into the confines of his mind

but it seems like you’ve already did without even asking.

“ask me why i’m called the cherry king.”

you tilt your head in confusion, that time playing in your head of why jimin looked confused when you didn’t continue to ask further

maybe you’ll indulge him

“why are you called the cherry king?”

jimin smiles, leaning to your couch with his arms relaxed

“we did secret santa for christmas at our frat house. taehyung thought it would be nice if he pranked me by gifting me a jar full of cherries, but i thought that was his actual gift, and i liked it to the point that i finished it in one sitting.”

tHAT’S ACTUALLY PRETTY ENDEARING

cute, even

“ask me why i came out of seri’s apartment last week.”

oh that’s.,.,. that’s a bit higher in level compared to nicknames

“why did you come out of seri’s apartment last week?”

“because seri’s the ex-girlfriend of hoseok, my frat brother, and he wanted me to return all her stuff because he doesn’t want to be reminded of his cheating ex.”

well that was definitely weighted

jimin plays with the hem of his shirt, the words tumbling out of his mouth

“ask me why i love you.”

why do you wHAT

your mouth drops open, the new position you took on the other end of the couch taking an impact on him

“w-why do you love me?”

jimin’s a lot of things but he’s not drunk tonight

he doesn’t know why he’s letting his feelings slip either, but it’s the bottomless need that he feels when he’s around you

“i feel wanted. i feel needed.”

he smiles cheerfully even if he feels shy dropping this on you all of a sudden

“not sure if you want me nor need me, but i feel welcome with you if that makes sense.”

“you just make me feel loved, i guess.”

jimin looks at you for the first time since he’s opened his mouth, an equally fond look on your face

you said no words but what jimin receives is a gentle tug, your hand on the side of his face until he’s leaning on your shoulder

“i wanna know what's up there.”

he points a finger to your temple, an amused lilt to his tone, “surprise me.”

it’s an unfolding of things that was weeks in the making but months in developing, the distant glances leading you to recognize jimin in the shop in the first place

“i feel the exact same with you,” you answer honestly and it makes his laugh from his chest, his cheeks warm and his heart content

and you just wanna suspend yourselves in this moment forever

“oh! and if i were to lose my virginity to anyone at the moment, it'd be you!!”

...

....

jimin swats at your shoulder to which you only giggle at, a toothy smile on display as this is the warmest he’s ever felt

“i wasn’t kidding!!!”

you yawn when you defend yourself, predicting that you’d fall asleep sooner or later on the couch, but for the time-being, you just stroke jimin’s hair to soothe the both of you

jimin is now the furthest thing from sleepy

"what? you told me to surprise you!!"

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supertransural · 3 years

Text

thinking about dean cas and baby jack going on a road trip. dean’s used to being in the impala for long lapses of time, but it’s usually stressful, it’s tiring, it’s always in the expectancy of another job, another monster to be defeated. it’s always going from point A where a killer was killed to point B where another one awaits. it’s always about the job.

so this time, concentrating on the road as dusk was slowly creeping up on them, with cas dozing off beside him or maybe thinking hard about... something (this was cas after all, how was dean supposed to know what went on in his (his!! he still couldn’t believe that) angel’s head), squinting as always, his eyes almost shut; with 4yo jack in the backseat, drooling all over the fine black leather (if this wasn’t his kid, dean would’ve stopped the car already and thrown the child out just for this punishable-by-death-atrocity) and dreaming about a future dean gets to be a part of (goddammit how did he get so lucky), he was surprised when he didn’t feel the much-too-common tension in his shoulders. he felt... relaxed, yes that’s the word. it’s a word he was beginning to understand, a word that cas was teaching him how to feel.

a small smile cracked its way through dean’s face as he turned his attention back to the road. they were on their way to Louisiana, not set on a town yet. he may have been retired, but dean hadn’t lost his taste for adventure, so he had convinced his little family to just, wing it. he wondered if he should switch routes and see where the new one lead him, but that might upset cas who was really excited about eating the good food he’d heard his husband talk so much about. louisiana it is, then, he thought.

in the corner of his eye, he could see cas breathing deeply, no doubt already mapping out every possible resting spot for tonight, every corner store that sold kids food, maybe emergency stuff (cas could get a bit overwhelming when he listed off every single potential thing that may go terribly wrong with jack when they leave the safety of their house) or diners that cas deemed appropriate enough for their special kid. because he really was special, every smile, every laugh, every new drawing or string of words he puts together seemingly just so he can see his dads smile, every single thing this baby does is special. unique. and dean gets to see all those things, he gets to be there for everyone of them. jesus he’s getting emotional, should stop that now or cas will be teasing him about it for the rest of the trip. ok, deep breaths now, he thought. the road, the wheel in his hands, baby’s engine humming quietly. right. got it.

they packed frantically two days prior, because cas. jack was giggling the whole way through, observing them from his stool, since apparently dean looked really funny with peach fuzz he hadn’t had the time to shave yet (cas woke him up in a panic at 6am dammit) pink pajama shorts, his boots and a unicorn tshirt he only wore in cas’ presence (sam is a lovey kid, but hell if dean is ever going to let him see the collection of tshirts this one comes from). 4 suitcases, a couple inflatable duck-floaties, way too many towels, every single one of jack’s stuffed animals (except the little purple dinosaur one that jack was firmly holding onto during his inspection of his parents’ packing ordeal) and a thousand other useless things cas seemed to find essential to their survival.

“jesus, it’s only a couple weeks, honey!” dean had told him, trying to fit the last suitcase into the trunk of the impala (and miserably failing, to his own bitter disappointment).

“yes, a “couple weeks” within which we will apparently be doing things and going places we cannot foresee, as was your wish. i simply want to be prepared for any alternative your resourceful mind might come up with. and jack requires all his stuffies, he cannot sleep without counting each one of them before bed. you do not wish to see your child cry for two weeks, do you? you would not purposely cause him any pain, would you? right then the matter is settled. these items must find their way into this car you love so much, and i must attend to our son. his breakfast awaits!” cas had responded, mischievous smile growing larger with each sentence. “good luck!” he then added, giving dean a long and deep kiss, as if this was to be their last.

after a kiss like that, how was dean supposed to keep on complaining? he wasn’t, and that was exactly what cas intended, dean knew that. doesn’t mean he protested, or argued against his miraculous-bitch of a husband. so he had finished packing, muttering to himself, but unable to push down the grin that cas’ kiss had brought upon his face. or the flush of his cheeks for that matter.

here he was, happy as he’d ever been, relaxed for the first time ever while being on a long drive (first of many times, he hoped), with the love of his life on his right side, and the other light of his existence in the backseat, little hands still clutching the purple dinosaur.

“hey.” he heard a raspy and sleepy voice say. cas had indeed been asleep for the past 30 minutes.

“good morning, sleepyhead!” answered dean, chuckling.

he looked at cas’ beautifully hazy face, his icy blue eyes shining in the pink-orange light of the fading sun. god, how could this man be his, and how could dean ever refuse him anything. he reached out his right hand to place it on cas’ left thigh, stroking it lovingly in round patterns with his thumb. smiling at him, he wondered if giving him a quick kiss would cause his husband to start lecturing him again (for the thousandth time probably) about driving safely when jack was in the car.

fuck it, he thought. he glanced at the empty road, and lunged quickly towards cas before the former angel could refuse, and placed his lips on his for a few seconds. grinning to himself as he sat back, directing his gaze back to the highway, he waited for cas’ annoyed voice, no doubt already preparing a stern talking-to and threatening him to rat him out to the police to get his license taken away (not that it would matter, dean still had all his fake ID’s in a secret box back home, carefully tucked between baby clothes and pacifiers at the bottom of a drawer).

“dean.” cas started, a frown already carved into his forehead.

“oh no you don’t” dean cut him off. “if you lecture me, jack’s gonna feel it and he’ll wake up from what seems to be a very pleasant dream. save it for the hotel room, i know a few ways you can make me feel the weight of my wrongdoing.” he added with a wink.

cas turned to look at his son, still happily asleep in the back. frown disappearing, a sweet smile starting to lighten his expression (wow, he really could just look that magnificent whenever he felt like it) he turned back to face his partner.

“fine. just because he’s asleep. where are we?” cas said, squinting disapprovingly, then yawning silently.

“just passed the northern border of arkensas.” answered dean with a sigh. “gonna be a pretty boring drive from here on out”.

“i see. there’s a motel not far from here, with a town nearby where we could find sustenance, appropriate for jack too.” cas said, not even looking at his phone: he’d memorized each town’s location, every name of every motel, roadhouse, diner that they might encounter, because he was like that. and god did dean love him for it. “it’s getting a bit late, and i would rather see jack in a bed tonight than sleeping in the car” he remarked. “no offense to her” he added hurriedly when he felt dean’s glare after what could be interpreted as an insult to his baby.

“alright. when’s the exit for this town of yours?” dean asked absentmindedly.

“15 more miles, i believe.” cas answered, propping up an elbow on the windowsill.

“cool. tell me when you see it, i might forget, with you looking so handsome right next to me and all. tired father really is a good look on you.” dean whispered with a side smile.

“oh stop it. jack is right there.” cas answered, chuckling and fiddling with his wedding ring.

they stared at each other, peace settling comfortably between them.

“you know i love you, right?” said dean, without a hint of humor in his voice.

“yes, you’ve taken the habit of telling me, roughly 28 times a day, give or take.” joked cas as he saw dean scowl. “i love you too, now and forever, when the seas rise and swallow the land, when the heavens fall and the stars burn out, i will still love you, the only light that ever mattered, the first soul i ever really saw, the one i followed to hell and back. but you already knew that, right?” cas uttered with warmth, with the same voice he’d used at their wedding.

“jesus, cas. if you’re not careful, i might just end up falling for you. oh wait, i already did.” answered dean, face reddened and heart full. this is where he belonged.

dean’s hand was still on cas’ thigh, and their gazes were still locked together when jack woke from his sleep in an adorable mumble. he immediately started babbling to his fathers about the dream he had had (probably making up new details, but you could never know with that kid). as the family laughed together, dean looked to his window, and time stilled for a split second.

he saw a ghost of who he was, staring back at him in his reflection, eyes glossy with tears (joy? terror? sadness? love? hate? too hard to tell). the face in the makeshift mirror seemed to ask “is this really what is coming? will i truly get to where you are one day?”. dean smiled, nodding a silent “yes, yes you will. in time.” and the face faded away slowly, a little less scared than it had seemed at first.

when he looked back towards his husband and his son, his own eyes were glossy too.

“what’s wrong?” cas asked, worried.

“nothing, i’m just happy.” dean answered, wiping away a tear that was slipping down his cheek with a sure smile. “i’m just... happy.”

they drove until cas pointed at the exit, ate, and fell asleep contentedly.

18 years ago, dean dozed off without the need for strong booze in the very same motel, and the same tear (joy, maybe?) danced down his face into the pillow. a low hum of a voice saying “in time” ringing brightly in his mind, he fell asleep into the deepest slumber he’d ever gotten. “all will be well”, a voice kept repeating.

#oof ok this was supposed to be a short post about a fun road trip #i’m thinking i need to get better at writing so i can turn this into an actual fic #anyways imma be thinking about this for the rest of this evening bye #spn #supernatural #destiel #cas #dean #dean winchester #deancas #bidean #baby jack #ficlet

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janiedean · 4 years

Note

Jaime: The Hermit, J/B: The Star

aaand here you go!

hermit: loneliness, withdrawal, thoughtfulness, lantern

[post-jaime’s last AFFC chapter, sorry the jb sneaked in at the end xD]

It takes burning the letter to realize it fully.

The moment he says it, put it in the fire, and Peck does, he watches Cersei’s words turn to ash in between the flames and it hits him so fast and hard that for a moment he feels like flinching - he doesn’t need her anymore.

He kind of had known since he left.

But that burning need for her touch that had kept him alive in Riverrun’s dungeons and that he thought drove him to come back to King’s Landing, except it really, really didn’t, is gone. If he thinks about her, his stomach doesn’t clench, his heart doesn’t speed up, his bile doesn’t feel like coming up in his throat the way it has for the previous weeks, when he spewed it at Ser Ilyn, not that he could tell anyone. It’s as if he burned it along with that parchment, and why wouldn’t he have?

She only sent it when she needed him to risk his life for her, and suddenly he can see the pattern, so clear - did she ever find him or want him when she didn’t need something that he could give her, and was she ever the same to him when he needed her?

The answer is no - when he needed her, the answer wasn’t automatically a yes if she thought it would be too dangerous, but if she needed him he would have just dropped everything and risk his neck because he couldn’t even think about it clearly, and now his stomach clenches. He feels half-sick, but he can’t exactly tell his damn squire, and so he goes back to the balcony, breathes in the cold winter hair as snow falls over the ground.

It’s - better. He feels like a part of him has been torn away, but it’s still better.

Except that she’s not here, Tyrion’s not here and good thing that except that he doesn’t want to know what would happen if they met again - he hopes Tyrion has it in himself to forgive him, he always was kinder than he let anyone else know, but given what it was about, he wouldn’t begrudge Tyrion if he didn’t -, and the ghost of his right hand aches, and he thinks of how his squire and Pia seem to sound happy as they share his bed night after night because he keeps on giving it to them, and for the first time in his life he also realizes how miserably lonely he feels -

But hadn’t he felt the same when it was just him guarding Aerys, or waiting for Cersei all the time, or -

Shit. Shit, he did.

Great, he thinks. Look at me, nearing five and thirty, and realizing that I’ve spent most of my life being more alone than I ever thought I was and that I threw most of it away.

And yet -

And yet he could try to do better now, couldn’t he? He’ll go back to King’s Landing, he supposes, and he’ll see to do right by his king - his son, whatever he will be to him, even if he’s not so sure he should ever know the truth, and maybe now that he knows he won’t do the same mistakes again, and if one day he hears of Sansa Stark being back in Winterfell he’ll feel like he has done something right with that sword.

For now, he just watches the snow fall. It’s a very pretty sight. And it’s better than thinking about all of that all over again.

(If a part of him wonders if he would feel less alone now had he gone with Brienne like he knows now he might have wanted to, he tries not to listen to it too much.)

star: puddle, reflection, hope, serenity, lack of faith

[post-book canon wishful fluff]

“You know,” he says, barely audible, “I used to think she was my reflection.”

Brienne, who had been on the brink of falling asleep, opens her eyes as she feels Jaime turning in her arms, his back not pressing against her chest anymore as he moves so that they’re face to face again.

Sometimes he does wake her up in the night saying things that might sound random, but - in the light of day, they’re usually not nonsensical at all. She knows it’s because he usually falls asleep after her and he thinks a lot in that span of time, but the fact that he usually dumps those feelings on her when she’s barely even awake means it takes her a while to catch up with him.

“Wait,” she says, “you mean -”

“I mean my sister,” he says, moving closer, his left hand grasping at her waist, “but I mean, it’s not - I realized she wasn’t a long time ago.”

“All right,” Brienne yawns, trying to get back to a more awake state so she can see where he’s going without Jaime worrying she’s not taking the discussion seriously, “so why did you have to wake me up if it’s nothing new?”

He half-smiles, green eyes glinting in the moonlight -

“Because I realizes that I do have one. But it never was her, it’s you.”

At that, Brienne thinks she wakes up for good. “What - Jaime, it’s the middle of the night and I think you need to sleep -”

“Oh, absolutely not. I mean, I don’t know how I didn’t get it until now, but -”

“Jaime, I hardly doubt we look alike, for -”

He grins, stopping her mid-sentence. “You’re being too superficial, wench. Too bad because you usually aren’t, but come on. First of all, you’re only slightly taller than me while I was plenty taller than her.”

“That’s not -”

“Also, she was a lot more slim than I was, while fine, your shoulders are larger, but still, way closer to mine than hers.”

“Jaime -”

“There’s also,” he says, his hand moving down and palming her stomach, where his fingers run over her muscles, “the part where we are both knights, which meant you have the exact same training as I did,” he goes on, entirely too excited for what this conversation warrants if you ask her, but then he grabs her hand so she can feel his stomach and fine, he might have a point because they both have muscles borne out swordfighting, but that doesn’t mean -

“Never mind that our hands feel exactly the same or that we have swords that once were the same one, never mind that we actually did both want to be at least decent knights, were misjudged for killing or not killing a king, had to take out a person we swore ourselves to after they went mad, and oh, wait, we could also mention that we have not so matching battle scars and my sister never had any of those, but all in all, I think that I’m not making a bad point here, do I?”

Fine. He doesn’t, and she has to admit it, and he looks very, very smug at it, but -

“It’s not that it’s untrue,” she sighs, “but you do know we still don’t look alike?”

“I don’t know,” he muses, “I’d like to remind you that people didn’t think me very beautiful outside my looks for most of my life. And never mind how you look to others, I have never known someone as beautiful as you. I should say where it matters, but I think you quite know I would look at you for the rest of my life without it being a hardship at any point?”

She has to laugh a bit at that, shaking her head and moving closer. “So what,” she says, “now my face is a reflection of your soul and yours is a reflection of mine?”

“See, you’re getting the point.”

“Hm,” she doesn’t disagree, “that sounds sensed, but -” her voice lowers, moving closer to him as she drags the covers upwards. It’s winter and it’s cold, after all. “But, if my looks aren’t so hideous to you… well. You do know that your soul wouldn’t be so hideous to me, either? And not to many others, now that you stopped pretending you don’t care.”

At that, the smirk suddenly falls from his face, and he gives her a look, the kind he gives her all the time when she tells him something he hadn’t expected which most of the time coincidentally is related to how he’s far from the worst person she knows, all the contrary, and sometimes it makes her almost look away because it’s too intense and she doesn’t know what to make of it, but this time it feels like she has to hold his stare or she won’t make her point, and she thinks she wants to. She’s thought that for years by now, and if he doesn’t still grasp it, well, she should tell him.

“Shit,” he says, “you mean that.”

“Sure I mean it. I don’t almost let myself get hanged for people who don’t deserve it,” she says, that kind of humor still not sounding quite right when it always does when coming from him, but she’s seeing the merits of trying to laugh about - about that because somehow it makes it feel less horrific than it actually was, and then he’s half-laughing and shaking his head, a few stray tears falling from his eyes, but he wipes them off before she can do it and then moves his arm around her waist again -

“One tries to tell you something nice and you have to go and steal his thunder, don’t you,” he says, but he doesn’t sound too angry about it.

“You were the one who woke me up in the middle of the night to inform me of that.” She rolls her eyes even if he can’t see her.

“Fair, wench, fair. But anyway, I still was right. You are my reflection, at the end of it.”

“I could think of worst,” she agrees, her hand going to his hair as he goes still against her, and maybe he’ll go back to sleep now -

“Wench, you do know that if we agree on what you said, you just called yourself beautiful?”

That - that is actually true, and oh, she hadn’t even thought of the implications, but she can feel him smirking against her shoulder, of course he is -

“You’re impossible,” she sighs, “go back to sleep and save your pearls of wisdom for tomorrow, won’t you?”

“But you know I’m right,” he says before closing his eyes, and -

Fine. Maybe he is.

Maybe he is.

She’s not going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing at once, though, so she says nothing and thinks of how good it feels to share a bed with him all over again, how he’s warm and soft against her, his heart beating right next to her skin, and she knows she wouldn’t trade his night time epiphanies for anything else.

#jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #braime #my fic #arcana prompts fic #otp: i dreamed of you #dragonsthough101 #ask post #aaaand here you go!#more after I do my nano word count :)#only slightly less toxic than chernobyl's ruins #anti-cersei lannister #anti-cersei #anti-lannincest #anti-jaime x cersei

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fullmetaldevil-blog · 5 years

Text

Batim: Stitched Au CH. 7

Ok. I actually had this typed up awhile ago but lacked the sufficient time to actually sit and post it properly :p

summary: Benny is gone and is no where to be found. Now a determined Angel is out to find her demon accompanied by her band and loyal husband. Can they find Benny or will someone else find them whom has even bigger plans?

I hope you all enjoy

On with the show~!

Ch. 7 Bigger Plans for the Band

Bright and early in the morning Allison and Tom piled into Tom's truck and the man broke a few speed limits to reach the studio. They had stayed up all night formulating ways to trying to track Benny down based on what Allison knew of him. The mechanic and actress had placed many phone calls waking much of the band members (and got cussed out by a few) as to perform a thorough search of the studio before the facility opened to the majority of the staff. Tom was taking full advantage of the fact that he was one of the few key holders and had informed everyone to meet at the studio 2 hours before the studio was fully open to openly search for Benny without onlookers. They had hoped that Norman, Aaron and Giovanni's plan of leaving food sitting out had paid off since Benny was known to have a large appetite.

While Tom drove like a madman down the dark road and was thankful no cops were around to pull him over (not like he would have stopped), Allison was silently praying that they would be able to find her little lost toon. Benny didn't really see much of the studio except for the area's she frequented and she had no real reason to venture beyond the animation department and the music department. She had hoped that Benny hadn't ventured further then that due to the studio's maze like infrastructure and it was a common occurrence for new staff to get lost or turned around. She held her overcoat tightly in hopes that by the end of the day her coat would help smuggle a little friend out of that hellish place.

Tom pulled into the studio lot and was soon joined by another car. The mechanic got out to look at who was the other early arrival hoping it wasn't some random employee and he was relieved to see Norman stepping out and waving at him.

“G' mornin!” Norman hollered from his car, the man stepping out to reveal a tool belt around his waist full of tools, a loop of wire and a small backpack.

Allison looked at Norman wide eyed “What's all that?” gesturing to the belt and small tools.

Norman chuckled as he pointed to his equipment “Well normally I carry these in mah backpack, but I got 'em on mah side on that off chance we find Benny an' I can sneak 'em out with the bag. These are mah tools fer the projectors so I carry 'em all th' time.”

Upon Norman finishing his explanation Allison chuckled and held up her overcoat. “I had the same idea, I brought the coat with the idea of sneaking him out in my clothes.”

While the group lightly chatted, a few more cars pulled into the lot while 2 others came on foot. Tom, Allison and Norman turned to see Earl and Edgar arriving on foot while Leonard, Giovanni and Aaron all arrived by car.

“Huh. I didn't know you boys walked here.” Tom commented while looking at the twins whom were still trying to rub the sleep out of their eyes.

“Ay, We live just down the way from here so it's only a 15-20 minute walk.” Earl yawned while Edgar hung off his brother clearly having a hard time waking up.

Allison watching Edgar having a hard time waking up instantly made her think of Benny. At times in the morning he was slow moving, groggy and not always ready for the day. “I just hope Benny is awake and can hear us while we're looking for him. He isn't exactly a morning toon.”

Leonard flashed a huge grin “Which is why we make as much noise as we can. If were loud by either playin' music or callin' his name I'm sure he's bound to come running.” The man held up his violin to emphasize his point.

Aaron smacked Leonard on the back of the head playfully “Or to go running away, did you ever think about that numskull. Think about it, the room getting trashed was enough to scare him away, he might be edgy and run from any excessive noises.”

“I vote we check were we put all the soup cans first before we wake the dead by shouting all morning.” Giovanni added in. “He's been missing for a full day now, he has got to be hungry by now.”

“Which is why I brought this” Tom heading to his truck and came back with a huge roll of paper and laid it on the hood of his truck prompting the group to come over. “This is a map of the entire studio, even the portions that as still in development. When I was developing the first ink machine Joey had to provide us the original blueprint of the studio then we added onto to it. This is my copy of the blueprint that I'm thankful I took with me.”

The band members had gathered round and everyone stared at the pages in awe at the sheer depth that the studio had gone. None of them could have imagined that the studio was much larger then it looked.

“What's this area?” Giovanni pointed at a large circular area that was labeled ' Belly of the Beast' on the draft.

Tom looked to the spot that Giovanni had pointed to “Oh that is the 'Throne room' as Joey liked to put it. It's where he houses Bendy memorabilia with the purpose of impressing investors.”

Norman's face twisted in confusion as he eyed the area that was brought into question. He followed the only route that lead from that spot to yet another large room but the only entrance was in a corner of the room rather then a main hallway. It seemed odd. “An' what's this 'ere?” He pointed at the second smaller room that served as the only entrance to the 'throne room' gaining Tom's attention.

“Huh? Oh that's the vault.”

“I know that area!” Norman's outburst taking everyone by surprise.

“You do?” Allison spoke up looking at the projectionist confused. Her look of confusion was joined by the rest of the band whom had no clue half of the new additions of the studio existed.

“Yeah. Th' other day Joey was headin' down 'ere and I was gonna check that area first in the hopes that lil' Benny hadn't come that far down. I helped 'em down and then he was askin' me about what Bendy films mah lil sister likes. I told 'em which ones and he told me t' get them out the vault. He told me how to open it and I got the films fer 'em, then we headed back to the office and I had to go back to the music department.” Norman stared holes at the blueprint of the vault on the draft sheet. “When I was in there th' door 'ere'” he pointed to the door mark in the corner of the room. “It was blocked off by a large book shelf an' ink was around the base. I dunno what was beyond th' door but it looked odd.”

“That's where the ink for the ink machine is kept, along with 'the Ink Machine'.” Tom's voice causing the group to look at him and looks of confusion and the emphasis of the Ink Machine . “The Ink Machine not only helps make ink but it also filters and pumps ink throughout the studio like a giant heart. What we see up top is only a small piece of the real thing, that's the 'output' portion where the toons come out. It's 'heart' looks exactly like the one on the upper levels, but far bigger. The blue print for the Ink Machine is so complex it couldn't be all put on one drafting sheet plus along with whatever Joey put inside the machine.”

“So why couldn't you say something sooner? I mean about all that was going on behind the scenes with the Ink machine and Benny.” Aaron looked over at Tom with disappointment on his face.

The man's question made the mechanics shoulders slump “I didn't want to admit it, but I kinda liked the idea of a living toon. A little character who's sole purpose was to make people smile despite the stock market crash and the hardship that followed. That was the reason why I took such a ludicrous job along with the fact that it paid well. The longer I worked here and the more complex the project turned out to be, the more I realized I was in over my head and was too far in to just simply back out. Joey wouldn't let me and then my job wouldn't let me. I couldn't say anything cause Joey had threatened me.” Tom turned to look at Allison. “When I made the prototype ink machine it was only supposed to test on whether or not a object can be turned into an ink copy. The idea being that we can turn Bendy related objects into a physical replica of the toon, a 3 dimensional model if you will. That day I went to Shawn and asked to grab something from the scrap heap and he let me. I looked at the pile of Alice angel toys that were being tossed and saw one lonely Bendy plush that the eyes were accidentally mismatched and had somehow got stained yellow. I liked it on sight to be honest, something about it made me smile. It was unique. So I picked up the toy and brought it to the machine. To be honest a small part of me wished I could have kept the toy and that the process wouldn't work so I can get the toy back. Never in a million years would I have pictured that the toy was turned into a living toon somehow. After that, things got out of hand I was threatened by Joey into silence for if I said something or did something out of line he would go after my wife and have her hurt or worse.”

Allison stared at her husband in horror realizing that Tom was putting himself in harms way to protect her from someone who had no qualms about removing people by means of injury or death. That Tom had no choice but to endure threats to his loved one and carry the burden of the birth and death of the off model toon. She walked over to her cherished husband and gave him a warm comforting hug while whispering a small 'thank you'.

“So what exactly happen' when lil Benny was made?” Norman politely asked.

The mechanic smiled remembering the first day. “Well after I took one last look at the little toy and placed it inside the machine I went through the process of making sure the machine itself was ready. I threw the switch and watched the machine writhe around before a large glob of ink fell out the nozzle. At first I thought it failed and only succeeded in making some really thick ink, but when it started taking form I could only stand and watch in amazement. After a few moments a yellow colored Bendy toon was sitting in the ink and what really shocked me was when it was moving. It was alive. I couldn't help myself. I went over to look at the little new born and got to touch him for the first time, and he was so soft and sweet. A part of me was like a child, all giddy and excited at seeing their favorite character. The little toon was responding the sounds I made and my touches.” Then Tom's face turned bitter and angry. “Then Joey was shouting how the toon was off model and needed to be disposed of. I couldn't stand by and let that happen so I stood up to Joey protecting the toon who cowered behind me. We argued and while and when I was distracted Joey had grabbed an ax and struck me on the side of my head with the handle. I saw the little toon reach for me when I got hit and his reward was a slash wound across his stomach. I grabbed Joey's legs to try and keep him from going after the toon a 2nd time allowing Benny to escape. He hit me on the head again and I don't know what happened after that. The next thing I knew was I was in his office getting threatened into silence.”

The group had an overwhelming sense of pity finally learning Thomas's side of the story. The man had been lured in and used, and when the results came he got stepped on and shoveled over. A simple notion of helping to make something that made people smile got turned against him and brought him only pain.

A chuckle made the group look back at the man “Now I know that my little toon is alive, he is my responsibility. I brought him into this world and I won't let anything or anyone take him out. Though now we have a new problem on our hands rather then just finding Benny” Tom's eyes narrowed as he looked down at the blueprint laid before him.

“What is this new problem? We already have enough with tryin' to find a small toon” Giovanni roughly pointed out.

Tom turned to face the group. “Our 2nd problem is Bendy. The other day when I completed the 2nd ink machine it produced a perfectly on-model Bendy toon. He is alive just like his counterpart and is unfortunately in Joey's hands. The man forced me to come back here with threats to my livelihood if I didn't fix the machine to make a Bendy that 'acted right'. Apparently Bendy's behavior isn't like his cartoon self and according to Joey he is too much like his creator Henry. With any luck Joey didn't kill him, but considering how much he has invested in Bendy already he most likely has him hidden somewhere in the unfinished areas.”

Norman let out a sigh while pinching the bridge between his nose. “Great, now we got 2 lost chi'ren t' look fer.”

Tom gave and apologetic look to the band members “Sorry about this guys.”

“Ah, It ain't your fault Thomas.” Leonard spoke up walking up to the man. “You were doing what you were forced to and in a way it paid off. You got 2 loving cartoon characters and all we need to do now is just get them out., with this many of us it will be a snap.” The young man flashing a large grin. “Besides we're the infamous Joey Drew Studios band, the bane of Sammy's existence, the local terrors, the devil's musicians!”

“Speak for yourself. You, Edgar and Earl are the only ones that hold the title of 'the local terrors'” Aaron chided looking down at Leonard. “The rest of us on the other hand, proudly take the title of 'the Devil's musician's.”

The band all laughed and uttered various forms of agreement at the mans statement knowing that out of the entire group their youngest 3 members were the 'unholy terrors'. Words of cheers and the occasional pot shot was passed throughout the group before they settled down and looked at Tom. Giovanni looked at the rest of the members and stepped forward towards Tom and asked four words that drew all eyes to the mechanic. “Where do we start?”

“All right here's what we do.” Tom carefully folded the blueprint and ripped along the folds dividing it up amongst the group except for Norman and himself. “I want you guys to check each section of the map that I gave you and mark off any points of interest or areas where Bacon Soup cans were deposited. Most of this is reachable by elevator which I'm gonna unlock for you guys so can all go look around. I know we're all used to taking the stairs, but take the elevator. I know its sketchy as hell, but it is faster then running up and down the stairs. If you see something suspicious or think it might be Benny take note, but don't approach. I doubt Benny would deliberately harm anyone, but right now he is scared and alone, he might lash out if you just charge forward. Call out to him if you think its him. If he comes great, if not take note and keep moving we only have 2 hours.”

“'Ey guys we should move our cars so no one sees 'em.” Norman gestured to the small collection of cars in the studio main lot. “last thin' we need is Joey knowin' were 'ere.”

“See I told ya this is a stealth mission!” Leonard's voice piped up. “Instead of 'Escape the Hell Studio' it's now 'Toon Trouble: Search and Rescue.” The man flashing a wide grin at the group as he waved his hands outlining the title as if it were on the side of a theater entrance.

Aaron and Giovanni both looked at each other as to who wanted the pleasure of throttling the kid first. Tom beat them both to the punch by playfully smacking the kid on the side of the head at the same time Norman took a swing. The two musician's lamented that they couldn't get a shot, but smiles graced their faces at seeing a lighter side to their normally grumpy GENT mechanic.

“Boi this ain't time fer no games.” Norman lightly scowled. He secretly wanted to thank Leonard for at least lightening the mood since they all had a serious task on their hands.

“C'mon kid. This ain't a game, lets move the cars then find our toons.” Tom moved past Leonard whom was rubbing the spots where he was struck. Leonard briefly stuck his tongue out at the man, but immediately pulled it back in when Norman stood over him smiling before lifting him up by the back of his coat and trailed after the mechanic.

Allison, Edgar and Earl waited by the entrance as they watched the group one by one file into their respective cars and move them towards the back side of the studio lot out of sight of the entryway. Norman had long since figured out Joey's route to the studio and made sure everyone parked on the side that the man doesn't venture past. The group was more then thankful for the projectionists habit of observing habits. Leonard made a few more jokes about it being a stealth mission and even started playing his violin in a ominous manner while humming a tune calling it his 'theme song'. Thomas saw red and chased the man all the way back to the entrance trying to throttle him with Aaron and Giovanni right behind for backup. Norman being the only one to school his temper quietly followed wishing that the 3 enraged men weren't trying to wake the dead with their curses, the loudest of all being Tom. Leonard coward behind Allison whom scolded Tom for being too loud. The man glared at Leonard and had no choice but to let it go and focus on letting everyone inside.

The dim lights of the studio lot offered little assistance as Thomas pulled out a set of keys and fiddled with the door and the lock,the building seemingly protesting the early entry. The door finally decided to cooperate after the man gave it a good solid hit and it creaked open revealing the haunting interior. Only the emergency lights were on casting long black shadows over much of the studio entrance except for the dull moonlight that shown through the door. One by one the group filed in the sounds of creaking and groaning wood being their only greeting at the doorway. The studio logo's film reels slowly turning their normal creaks and groans sounding less like their mechanics that drove them and more like the moans of a dying creature.

“Ooo Boy it's dark in here.” Leonard spoke up watching the faint outline of the Joey Drew Studio logo reels forever turning round and round.

“Brilliant observation Sherlock” Aaron groaned while nudging Leonard further into the studio so he could enter.

“Awww don't be like that Aaron ol' boy, and here I thought we might be needing these.” Leonard turned to face the group and opened his coat up revealing the internal pockets stuffed with flashlights.

“For a second I thought you were gonna flash me.” Aaron grumbled while looking at the grinning Leonard.

“We'll I am carrying flashlight's, so in a way I already did.” Leonard soon found himself scrambling away from both Giovanni and Aaron as the two men both lunged for him leaving Norman burying his face in his hands and Tom's hands twitching. The mechanic still wanting to throttle the kid for his earlier antics and now this little episode to add on to his list of reasons why to maim the kid.

“Guys! Guys. We don't have time for this.” Earl piped up shaking his groggy brother off his shoulder. “We only got 2 hours.”

“For once it seems like 2 out of the 3 brat trio is using their brains” Tom muttered making Allison chuckle.

Making sure that he wasn't going to be the target of a whooping, Leonard sheepishly passed out the collection of flashlights he carried to the group. Tom turned his down saying he and Allison already had theirs and to give the spare to the twins so they each had one. One by one the younger members looked at their portions of the map and heading towards their desired locations. The dark halls greedily devoured their lights one by one with only the small creaks and groans of floorboards as evidence of their passage leaving the older members behind. The twins volunteered to check out the new park area while Leonard volunteered to check out the new Administration section. Aaron wanted to go back to check the music department just in case Benny came back. Norman wanted to better map the locations of the Bacon soup piles left on the upper levels. Giovanni volunteered to check the toy factory on the off chance Benny hid amongst the production lines. Allison and Tom both were gonna check the animation department before moving on to the depths of the studio.

“Wait.” Giovanni spoke up before Allison and Tom went down one of the halls the man jogging up to them. “Here take this. I wanted to give it to him, but right now you need it more.” The man held out his hand and revealed a little off model plush Bendy. The toy looked exactly like Benny just minus the stitches. The man chuckled “I found it hidden in the scrap pile, looks like Shawn made a mistake when he was half asleep and didn't want Joey to find out.”

Allison gently lifted the toy out of the mans hand and brought it to her chest hugging it tightly. She then pulled the man in for an embrace “Thank you. This means so much to me.”

Giovanni hugged the woman tightly before releasing her looking her in the eyes “Have faith, We'll find him. He will be going home.” his answer was a small squeeze back and a little 'Thank you'.

Once Giovanni both the embrace he waved slightly before resuming his trek down the foreboding halls of Joey Drew Studios leaving Tom and Allison behind. The couple nodded and turned towards the animation department to begin their search.

---------An Hour Later------------

A low rumble of a engine echoed throughout the studio lot as a Black car pulled into a parking stall with a little placard that read 'reserved for Joey Drew'. The man in question stepping out of the vehicle slowly leaning heavily on his cane while carrying a bucket of ink along with a few papers covered in messy writing and unknown symbols. He looked worse for wear as he had spent the entire night researching methods of extracting souls from bodies and converting it into ink. He practiced on a good number of small animals till he perfected the craft of the conversion. He found that for the best conversion the subject had to be living for the process. The subject needed to be within the circle and with a fresh wound for the ink to enter and consume the subject body and soul alike, a little incantation later and a ink creature is born. Since the subjects were only rodents the inky forms made were mere globs of think ink that screeched and moaned, but they were controllable. They responded to commands, but the things didn't seem to last long and fell apart shortly after creation, but then again they were only small insignificant creatures.

Joey soon learned that controlling the inky creatures came at a price, using the spells gained from the book lead to tremendous stress on his body which was already weak enough from the aftermath of Polio. His joints and muscles tightened every time he cast the various spells and at some points nearly inhibiting his ability to stand entirely. It was draining his life energy as a source of energy for the process and the ability to control the ink. He needed the ink machine. The contraption was an endless energy source and was designed for the sole purpose of making the living Ink for the form, but not the soul needed. He now had a way of giving the ink the soul it needs to truly bring the toons to life.

The director hobbled to the entrance unlocking the doors and let himself in before locking it behind himself. He needed peace and quiet before the rest of the staff started showing up. He readjusted his grip on his papers and bucket and made his way to the reception desk where his wheelchair sat. He hated using the thing, but with the amount of strain he put his body through each step felt like a knife was shredding his muscles apart and he desperately needed a break. Joey placed the bucket carefully between the foot rests next to his feet with the hopes that it wouldn't spill and slowly wheeled himself down the hall towards the ink machine. The mechanical hearts slow thumping it's only sign of life, beckoned the man to it's location. Joey sat before it listening to the rhythmic tune before laying his papers out on a nearby shelf and setting the bucket of gelatinous ink down upon the floor.

A grunt exited the man as he edged himself out of the wheelchair and clung to his cane for balance. He studied the papers on the shelf intensely before grabbing paintbrush and returned to the bucket he laid on the floor. He gingerly dipped the brush into the ink and started to paint the required circle and all it's inscriptions for the conversion at the base of the ink machine. A small chuckle escaped the mans lips. The original circle that lay within the the heart of the ink machine that gave it the ability to create the living ink and in turn make the living toons wasn't that much different then the circle used to extract a soul. One to create the illusion of life and the other to remove a life and repurpose it.

It was only a matter of minutes for the new circle to be completed beneath the ink machine and Joey stood back up on worn legs to admire his work. He had a sense of giddiness and his heart beat loudly with excitement almost in sync with the machine itself. Soon, very soon he will be able to snag his potential candidate for Bendy and perfect the toon. Now all he needed was to set up the true heart of the machine and wait for the staff to start showing up. Yeah sure the young man by the name of Leonard was one of the leading band members, but musicians come and musicians go. He could easily replace him with a new member if it meant that Bendy was no longer a soulless doll.

Joey gathered up his ink soaked brush sliding it back into the bucket and chose to slide it over to his wheelchair rather then carry it gathering up his papers along the way. Once his papers were secured he slowly eased himself back into his wheelchair and pushed himself to the controls setting the ink machine to lower to it's heart to line up the circles needed for the ritual. He listened to the machine as it whined in protest before it conceded and slowly descended into the darkness to join it's core, a raucous laughter escaped the man as the chains creaked and groaned from the decent.

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

“Benny! Beeeeeeennnnny!!” Leonard hollered down the halls bounding with a skip in his step while he played his violin as loud as the instrument would allow. His only answer was the silence of the halls except for a small rumble that begun to emanate from further down the halls gaining the mans attention causing him to slow and listen to the sounds. “Benny?”

Leonard nearly danced down to the edge of the hall with the sound growing louder and peered around it's edge and spotted what looked like a strange elevator shaft lined with 4 massive chains and pipes creating the rumbling sound. Confused Leonard pulled out his portion of the map and saw that the part he was now in was not on his piece of the map. Great. He was lost. He looked up from the page to see a large boxy mechanism being lowered down the shaft. Allison's words played in his head of the description of the ink machine; a large box with a huge nozzle and a catch basin beneath it and the object in question just descended into the depths of the studio.

He knew he should have turned around have gone to go find Tom or one of the other members, but what if it was leading to where Benny was? He couldn't miss this chance and the machine wasn't going very fast. Leonard edged towards the shaft and set his violin down on a crate and pried open the grate knowing that by no sense of the word was what he was about to do safe, but for Benny he was willing to take that risk. Thanking his lucky stars that the chains were large and very close to the opening, he jumped to the chains grasping onto them firmly going along for the ride into the darkness.

The ride down the shaft seemed like it took forever and on occasion an opening would appear in the form of a vent or a grate that allowed a small glimpse into the new floors of the studio that were off limits to the remainder of the staff. He couldn't believe how far down the studio was now stretching to, and could only stare wide eyed at the new renovations. The man signed and carefully slid down to rest on top the ink machine itself as he peered out the occasional openings. One particularly large open came to view and he was able to better view the floor.

Leonard was an instant child clinging to the edge of the machine staring out at the large storage room area of the floor. The area was covered in parts and booths for the rumored 'Bendy-Land' that was being constructed. His mind danced at the thoughts of the finished amusement park, the roar of the roller coasters, the screams and laughter of children and the smell of all the food. By god he couldn't wait! He so wanted to take Benny to the complete park and have him play some games with him, have a cotton candy eating contest, see how many balloons it takes to make him float and so much more! First they needed to find him and get him out of the studio. Once the little guy is safely out he can freely visit him and play as much as he wants without fear of getting caught.

A giddy grin swept across his face as he happily swayed on the chains at all the possibilities when 2 figures moving by one of the booths caught his attention. It was Earl and Edgar. The redheaded twins were' inspecting' the booth by playing the game with Earl clearly winning his round of ball toss in comparison to Edgar. “Earl! Edgar!” Leonard hollered out enthusiastically waving.

The two young men spun in place searching for the source of the voice before their eyes were drawn to Leonard waving beyond a grate. The man and a large boxy mechanism that could only be assumed was the ink machine were slowly descending down a shaft beyond the grate. Abandoning their game, the two bolted to the grate grasping a hold of it's frame while looking down at the grinning violinist.

“Ey, man are ye daft?! What are ye doin' down there laddie?” Earl shouted, he couldn't believe his eyes. What on earth was Leonard doing riding the ink machine like its a horse and left alone where was it going?

“I'm going for a ride fellas, see ya later!” Leonard shouted in return, his voice's echo bounced off the walls of the shaft.

Earl and Edgar both stood at the grate peering into the void that had swallowed their friend and they could only hope for his safety. Both looking at each other wondering what they should do about the situation. Should they give up and get Tom or continue on their mission and look for Benny. The two debated amongst each other and ultimately decided to let one of the games at the booths decide for them. Both rolled up their sleeves while they shot challenges back and forth as they paced to a booth and readied their hands for victory. Each took up a rifle and started up the target practice game forgetting their search.

Leonard stared up at the small light that was his brief window to his friends with a smile. If he were to find Benny first he would so gloat about it and rub it in the twins faces, especially since they were spending their time playing games rather then looking for their friend. His giddiness gave way to awe as his mechanical ride entered a massive cavern descending to a far larger version of itself below. “Holy cow! That thing's huge!” the musician gawked at the true Ink Machine that lay at the heart of the studio.

The smaller ink machine came to a rest on top it larger counterpart clicking in place as bellows of steam exited the machine with the larger one creating such plumes from its base as well. Leonard waved the steam away from his face before taking a look around the cavern. The place looked to be a normal underground cave that had been tunneled into. The walls were lined by scaffolding and other building materials and there were even scaffolding around the base of the Ink Machine. He eased himself to the edge of the smaller ink machine and reached for the scaffold grabbing hold and pulled himself off the machine and onto the platform. He sat for a minute admiring the both the ink machine and the Ink Machine in their entirety. It was one thing to see them on Tom's blueprints, but it never puts them in perspective as to their physical size.

Leonard stood up and brushed off his bottom before he followed the scaffolding that surrounded the Ink Machine until it lead to a ladder allowing him to finally get onto the floor properly which made him briefly want to hug the floor for he missed it so much. The edges of the machine caught it eye as he watched plumes of steam exit it's sides and pipes far larger then he had ever seen descend into what he initially thought was a hole until he realized that it was a lake, a lake purely made of ink. He couldn't believe his eyes, he had always seen copious amounts of the ebony liquid throughout the studio, but never at this magnitude. He drifted towards the shore of the lake peering out at the cavern watching the sinister liquid as it greedily clawed at the edges of it earthen well and seemed to swallow all light that touched it. Leonard audibly gulped as he backed away from the edge of the earthen well back towards the base of the scaffold with something bumping into him.

A yelp escaped the man as he bumped into a small object causing him to whirl around and come face to face with a blank Bendy cutout. It seemed to be freshly made and lacked any black expect for the outline of the devil darling and seemed to be holding onto sign that was oddly blank, probably gonna say 'work hard, work happy' like the posters. Behind the strange cutout was a door and decided to test his luck by trying the handle. To his surprise the door opened and he followed the hallway leading inside. Unbeknownst to him while he entered the machine and drifted down it's hall, an elevator next to Joey Drew's new office and the man in question wheeled himself out of the elevator and headed directly for the vault. Joey carried on with purpose as he only had a half an hour left till the staff started showing up and it took him a good 15 to 20 minutes just to make the circle on the smaller machine, but the bigger machine will take a little longer and he didn't have much time to waste.

Leonard didn't know what to make of the hallway that was surrounded by large glass tubes with ink cascading within them. Were they to showcase the functions of the ink machine?Or were they part of the ink machine? He lingered at the glass watching to fluid within before pulling his eyes away looking around before he spied a doorway at the end of the hall. He rest his hand on the doorknob turning slowly and pulled the door open slightly revealing that the room within was dark except for the faint flickering of lights. He nudged the door open further and was met by a large circular room surrounded by silver screens with various Bendy shorts playing with oddly no audio. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at watching the shorts playing with no sounds, they are almost like ghosts dancing on a wall mocking their viewers. Leonard fully entered the room taking cautious strides taking note of the lone chair that was encased by the screens, 'chair' was a poor choice of words as it resembled more of a throne. The chains that hung from the ceiling leading to the chair didn't offer much comfort as the scene before him reminded him of some strange dungeon that was housing a beast, he could only hope this certainly wasn't the case.

“Benny? Benny are you here?” The man nervously called out. The cold atmosphere of the room was not helping his nerves.

His answer was a small soft whistle like whine drawing the mans attention to the imposing throne. Leonard edged around it fearing that the seat was occupied, but the noise he heard sounded so sad and in pain, he was willing to take that chance. He was met with a child sized figure sporting shiny boots and white gloves with a large ring driven through where the buttons would be located on each hand. The rings and a clasp around the wrists were bound in heavy chains pulling the arms away from the body. A white bow tie sat upon the upper chest area just below the head that was floating separate from the body. The head round and black with 2 small horns and a large white face with black pie cut eyes that bore traces of ink that ran down the sides of the face, and the normally trademark grin was turned into a prominent frown. Before him sat Bendy the Dancing Demon.

“Bendy!?” Leonard shrieked upon seeing the toon.

The man was shocked by what he was looking at, it was none other then Bendy the Dancing Demon the studio's icon. He remembered Tom had said that Bendy had been made, but didn't have a clue as to the toon's whereabouts since Joey had taken him. Leonard shook his away his brief admiration of the toon since he absolutely adored the character to take a closer look at the living toon. His hands ghosted the toons arms to the clasps and the rings that bound the devils hands and arms that still dripped with small amounts of ink from the wound. Since Bendy didn't seem to be responding to Leonard's presence, the man carefully fingered the rings that were driven through the toons hands. He found the little loops that held the rings closed and undid them and slowly slid one of the rings out of Bendy's hand causing the toon to jerk awake and bared large triangular teeth growling at Leonard, his teeth mere inches from his face.

“I-I'm t-trying to help you.” Leonard stuttered out, the man was spooked at his field of vision being filled with sharp teeth.

Bendy's growling continued till he looked at his hand and realized that it was no longer bound by the ring and two holes shown through where the ring were driven through. This man was helping him. A shaky smile crossed the toons face at his rescuer and he let out a small hum of appreciation. Leonard nodded in acknowledgment and started working on freeing the toons other hand and with a slow and steady tug freed the remaining hand of the ring. Bendy wanted to cry at the removal of the rings, but felt relieved when the objects were removed.

Leonard carefully looked at Bendy's injured hands and at the ink dripping from them. “Heh, too bad you're not fabric cause then I can try and stitch you back together like how Benny was.” He pulled out a handkerchief and patted the area around the holes being careful to not touch the actual injury itself. Bendy winced from the touches of his hand, but did his best to relax as Leonard cleaned him up.

“B-Benny? Who's that?” A small voice catching Leonard's attention and he turned to see Bendy looking at him strait in the eyes.

He could have sworn the toon just spoke, but that couldn't be right. Bendy had no speaking roles in the shorts as he had no voice provider. “Did, did you just speak?” Leonard looked at Bendy with confusion all over his face, his answer was a small nod from the toon. The man chuckled and turned his attention back to the chains that bound the toon trying to undo them. “Well the answer to your question is Benny is kinda like a younger brother to ya in a weird way. He's a toon just like you except he was once a plush doll that was made to look like ya and was brought to life by the ink machine.”

“So how come yer all th' way down here?” Bendy quietly asked as Leonard grinned in triumph and loosening up the chains allowing bendy to rest his arms on the armrests of the throne. The toon breathed a sigh in relief at being able to rest his arms rather then having them suspended in the air.

“Well little Benny got scared and fled his room when someone destroyed it, so now my friends and I are trying to find him before Joey does.” as soon and Leonard's words left his mouth Bendy growled softly making Leonard tense up wide eyed at the toon.

“I hate that man.” Bendy growled through gritted edged teeth. “He did this to me.”

Leonard's shoulders drooped while he looked at the toon in pity and understanding, it was only natural for the toon's to despise the man since he has done nothing for them except cause them pain. “Well know you aren't the only one.” Leonard's voice causing Bendy to look at him. “Benny has stitches that run completely across his stomach, a wound given to him shortly after birth by Joey. That's why we are trying to get him out of here, and now that I found ya I'm gonna try an' get you out as well.”

A small smile graced Bendy's face at the thoughts of freedom and the fact that there were people actually looking for him. He thought that no one cared for him and that no one would bother, but to hear that people actually did care and were even looking for him made a warmth bloom in his heart. He leaned his head over as far as he could comfortably go and gently nuzzled Leonard letting out a soft hum. “What's yer name?”

Leonard gently lifted a hand and ran his fingers between Bendy's horns before hopping off the platform and performed a small dace before taking a bow “My names Leonard Burn!” the man looked up at Bendy flashing a huge grin. “I'm a violinist and dancer here at the studio.”

Bendy looked at the man in shock at his performance before a chuckle escaped the toon as his characteristic grin grew on his face, his pie cut eye's locked with Leonard's. “Mah names Bendy. Bendy the Dancin' Demon.”

----------Meanwhile Outside the Throne Room----------

Joey shakily stood up out of his chair to open the vault and pulled on the door just enough to fit his body and bucket between the gap before pushing against the door forcing it to completely open. Part of him hated the fact that the heart of the machine was hidden behind such heavy doors and fortification, but at the same time it was for the sole purpose of protecting his property even if at the moment it felt like the studio was fighting against him. He had no choice but to leave his wheelchair behind as for it wouldn't be able to cross the ink lake making him wonder why a bridge had not yet been built. Taking mental note to maim GENT later about the lack of access. Joey slowly and painfully waded across the ink lake with his muscles screaming with the resistance from the thick fluid, it was certainly harder to cross the stuff in comparison to water.

Upon reaching the shore at the base of the machine Joey strode to the hallway leading to the throne room were Bendy was housed with his bucket of ink and brush. Only one more circle to go.

----------Meanwhile Inside the Throne Room----------

Leonard managed to loosen up the chains that bound Bendy, but lacked proper tools to completely free the toon, but at least the toon was more comfortable in the chair. The sounds of the door opening alerted both Leonard and Bendy as to another guest and the man dove down behind the chair in hopes that he wouldn't be found.

A silvery smooth yet taunting voice floated through the air “Ah, Bendy. How are we doing this fine morning?” Joey slowly strode up to the ink demon as Bendy was not paying the man any attention, his head turned away refusing to look at the man. “Still not very chatty I see.” Joey scoffed.

The man turned away from the toon and started to dip the brush into the bucket of ink and laid it on the floor slowly tracing the outline of the chair and throne. All the while Joey slowly went around the throne laying out the circle Leonard made sure to kept opposite of him using the chair to keep out of Joey's line of sight. The musician and couldn't help but wonder about the strange patterns being drawn beneath the toon's prison. Bendy grew weary at this new outline Joey was calmly adding on and didn't like the looks of what what going on. Each time Joey slowly rounded the throne with Leonard on the opposite side, the violinist would attempt to rub out small portions of the circle causing Joey to look in confusion as to why small portions of the circle were missing. He chalked it up to being exhausted from his 'research', the man shrugged and continued to lay out more of the circle all under Bendy's concerned gaze.

Bendy watched the small spectacle before him with concern and yet at the same time amusement at watching Joey slowly going round and round the throne and with each loop the older man looking more and more exhausted with the young man slowly following and erasing or smudging the strange inscriptions that were being painted on the floor. It was almost like a scene from a cartoon except in real life. Even Leonard flashed a grin as he quietly crept past Bendy trying to undo the marks on the floor gaining a equal grin from the ink demon.

Joey rounded the throne again and stared puzzled at the portions of the circle that he could have sworn he had just painted on. He bent down looking more carefully at the lines and noted a small smear on the end of some of the gaps. The man scoffed and pulled out a small bottle and poured out its contents, the black liquid almost gelatin like splattering upon the ground just past the circle. The man uttering a few small chants before picking up his brush and bucket once more while taking a glance at Bendy with a smirk before fixing the missing portions of the circle and then started to lay out the final touches.

Bendy stared at the questionable fluid just past the circle and feared the worst from it as he could have sworn he saw small spasms and things moving within the fluid. He could only watch as Leonard slowly rounded the throne with the toon making a small whistle like whining trying to warn the man of the impending threat. His whines grew louder when he realized that the fluid was pulsing and was forming what resembled a hand and Leonard was none the wiser.

Bendy swallowed audibly and lightly struggled in his bondage trying to make more noise to gain Leonard's attention, failing he attempted whispering his name while looking at the man. “L-Leonard...Leonard”. The musician too caught up in his sabotaging the circle, he failed to notice the black material reaching for him. The man yelped when black tendrils burst out of the fluid and grabbed him. “Leonard!”

“Well, well, well, look who we have here.” a sultry voice cooed as Joey slowly rounded the throne looking at Leonard who struggled in his restraints. “Why if it isn't my little musical friend I was looking for. I take it you've already met Bendy? He isn't exactly much to look at yet, but he will be.” The man patted the demon in question on the head getting a loud growl from him and bared teeth. “As you can see” Joey slapped Bendy on the side of the face extracting a whine from the toon. “He isn't well behaved and needs to treat his creator with respect.”

“Not that I can blame him.” Leonard frowned getting Joey to turn his attention towards the man.

“What did you say?” Joey lifted a brow as he stepped away from the throne and slowly walked towards Leonard giving the man a cold stare.

Leonard wanted to cower in fear as the mans frigid Grey eyes seemed to stare into his soul, but seeing Bendy struggling to free himself spurred him to stand his ground. “I said; not that I can blame him. You make him with the machine and then you tie him up all the way down here where he should be meeting the staff and most of all the children he was meant to entertain. Do you have any idea how many people and children wish they can meet their favorite little demon?” Bendy looked at Leonard wide eyed and the mans outburst, the musician looking at him dead in the eye before returning his gaze to Joey. “But no. He is forced to stay down here when he has done nothing wrong and you're not his creator! Henry is!” Leonard spat as he struggled in his binds. He was outraged that not only had Joey harmed Benny when he was a sweet little innocent toon, but seeing Bendy's condition and treatment lit the fires of rage in him. How dare someone hurt the cartoon character he loved so much.

“You're similar.” Joey sauntered up to Leonard being mere inches from the musician.

“W-what?” Leonard croaked.

Before Leonard could react Joey grabbed him by his hair and forced the man to look at the director dead in the eyes. “You show up out of nowhere and try to tell me what I can and cannot do like you own the place. I'm Joey drew, director and owner of this studio. I own him as much as I own everything here!” the older man bellowed in his face before quieting down giving a cold smile. “Just as much as I now own you.”

Leonard looked at him confused before a sharp pain radiated from his side. Joey released his hair allowing him to look down at the source of his pain seeing a knife embedded within his side between his ribs. Joey pulled out the knife and waved his hand causing the black liquid that had Leonard bound to drip off him and he collapsed to the floor like a puppet who lost his strings. He coughed and gasped for air as Joey scoffed at him before he cleaned the blood off his knife and slid it back into his cane.

“Leonard!” Bendy screamed at the man crumbled on the ground. “Joey what did you do to him!?” the toon turned his attention to Joey baring triangular teeth and struggled harder in his chains.

“Oh I punctured his lung, nothing to worry about.” Joey smiled darkly at Bendy. “Besides I need him alive long enough for the procedure, and not put up a fuss.” The director waved his had and whispered a few chants causing the black material that had dripped off Leonard to pool around him and drag his body off to the side and away from the throne, a trail of red and black following the injured musician. Taking opportunity to finish what he had started, Joey picked up the brush and repaired the smeared sections of the circle completing the initial ritual.

“Joey please.” A voice catching the mans attention as he turned to look at Bendy whom had large tears dripping down his face as he looked desperately at Leonard and the blood collecting under him. “Please let him go. I promise I'll stay here willingly, and do whatever you want if you let him go. He's hurt and needs help. Please.” the toon sobbed and choked on his words each each word growing more desperate.

“See there is a little problem with that Bendy.” Joey walked up to him with his smile growing wider and wider. “I need him to make you complete.”

Joey turned around and removed himself from the throne and drew another circle on the floor just before the throne itself. He made a small motion and the black fluid grabbed Leonard by his arm causing the man to weakly cry out in pain and dragged him setting him atop the circle. He pulled out the “Illusion of Living” and flipped to a few pages within and chanted for the black liquid to gather around the two circles joining the two. Bendy looked up at Joey in fear as the cursed liquid encased the base of his chair and around Leonard. The director smirked and stood off to the side of the circles and cleared his throat.

“An object void of life is merely an object till animated with magic, but it's still and object with the illusion of living. I offer up the soul of the living to bring the object with the illusion of life to life!”

Upon the completion of his words the two circles glowed a blood red and the floor creaked and groaned as the ground seemed to be lurching from the energy of the circles. The room was filled with deafening rhythmic thumping of the Ink Machine itself as the device was responding to it's masters commands. Joey stood against the wall laughing maniacally as pipes descended from the ceiling as if possessed, the machine groaned as ink oozed out the pipes like blood from a wound. Leonard weakly looked up at the pipes descending above him and looked at Bendy whom was looking at him with pure terror on his face.

A small chuckle escaped Leonard as he smiled at Bendy “At least I got to finally meet you.” the man whispered before the ink pooled around him and grabbed onto him.

The black tendrils cut into the man extracting small cries as his punctured lung couldn't allow him to scream. The ink worked it's way into his body making his writhe in agony as it was slowly suffocating him. Bendy screamed and fought to free himself to help the man, but his struggles stopped when Leonard's body stilled and the ink pulled him into the puddle as if he was never there. He was gone. Bendy wailed at the loss of the man who only tried to help him, someone who came to him with the purest intentions was now gone. The toon didn't have long to mourn the loss of his would be friend and savior as the ink that had consumed the man flowed to his circle joining the patterns that encased him. His panic rose and gave way to sheer pain as the cursed ink rose to form tendrils and each one punctured his chest. The ink that was once Leonard was being forced into his body and he felt like he was being torn apart from the inside out. Bendy's screams drowned out the sounds of the Ink Machine and Joey laughter as the man watched the ritual with glee.

Joey's laughter died down when he watched Bendy's body spasm violently causing the toons screams to cease as if he had been drowned in his own ink. The demon's ink dripped profusely as his body twitched and warped, his limbs and frame contorting to a figure that was more then twice his normal size and looked vaguely humanoid. His frame was skeletal like someone had taken a bucket of ink and poured it on a skeleton topped with a round horned head. His right hand looked like a humans with 5 fingers and no glove while his left hand retained it's tooney appearance and was far larger then his right. His body had spasm so violently that the ink that made up his right leg was bent at a awkward angle resembling a broken limb that healed wrong. The most disturbing part was the toon's face. Ink seemed to be constantly dripping over his eyes obscuring them and only the frown of his mouth was visible. The horrific form only lasted briefly before the toons body fell apart with all the excess ink falling off him in waves revealing a unconscious on model Bendy.

Before Joey approached the throne to check on the toon, he watched the excess ink that had washed off the toon pool at the base of the throne. The ink pulsed and vibrated before it was drawn back to the smaller circle where Leonard had been sacrificed. The ink bubbled and rose to form a vaguely humanoid figure. The creature was curled up and had a very prominent skeletal look and like the previous monster Joey had witnessed, this creature too had ink dripping down it's body. The creature twitched making Joey freeze in place to see what it was going to do, the man grasped his cane tightly on the off chance he had to fight. The creature slowly moved and looked down at its hands which were 4 fingered like a toon rather then 5 like a normal human being. It them began to inspect the rest of it's body slowly before curling in on itself sobbing softly.

The small click of Joey's cane drew the inky figures attention towards him and the man was horrified by what he saw. The face while clearly humanoid, lacked anything distinguishable. The mouth was a gaping maw that seemed to be frowning and there was no nose at all except for 2 small slits. The eyes were the most frightening as they were hollow sockets with small glowing yellow orbs and appeared to be crying.

“W-What did you do to me?” The creature quietly asked. All the color drained from Joey's face as he realized that the voice belonged to Leonard, the man was now some creature made of ink. He watched as the figure that was known as Leonard once again looked at his body before curling in on himself.

Joey stared at the figure. If this was indeed Leonard and he remembers what was done to him then that makes him a witness. If he's able to reach someone then he can expose him for what he did down here, he can't let that happen. Joey chanted lowly and waved his hand. The Ink Machine groaned in response and more ink oozed from it's pipes dripping onto the floor splashing loudly. Ebony Tendrils formed from the ink and wrapped around what remained of Leonard, the inky humanoid cried and screamed as it was dragged down the hall with Joey following behind. The tendrils dragged Leonard all the way out of the Ink Machine and to the ink lake at it's base pulling the tortured soul to it's surface. The shores of the lake thrashed at it's intruder, but was more then happy to consume it's offering. It greedily grabbed the poor soul and despite the man's struggles and effort it pulled him under with ease.

The surface of ink had long since quested while Joey watched with baited breath until he was dead certain the man would never see the light of day. He turned on his heel and hobbled back to the throne room in time to see the pipes of the machine slowly ascended back into the ceiling and the machines thumping died down to a quiet hum returning to it's normal operation. Joey scowled at the unconscious toon in the chair. He failed to find a compatible soul for the toon and needed to find someone else he had many candidates to choose from. Hell, he'll use everyone in the studio if he had to.

The man tucked the book back into his pocket before turning on his heel and strode out of the room turning off the light leaving only the glow of the projectors playing the cartoons on the walls who smiled sadly at the loss of one of the key band members who gave them their joyous music.

#batim stitched au #benny the stitched devil #benny the stitched demon #benny the stitch devil #benny the stitch demon #allison pendle #allison connor #batim allison #thomas connor #batim thomas #norman polk #joey drew #batim ocs #bendy the dancing demon #bendy the devil #bendy the dancing devil #bendy the demon #ink demon #lost one

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bffhreprise · 5 years

Text

Entry 294

I took a deep breath to try to calm my nerves as I drove up the incredibly long driveway of Somerset Estate. The gate had opened for me, which had been amazing by itself. No. I was supposed to be here. Today, I would have an interview for Best Friend For Hire. No sweat. I was going to meet someone to give me my interview, I’d dazzle them, and thank them for hiring me. My heart was pounding even harder. How was I going to do this!?

“I’m sorry, Kayla, but you got the…” I started mumbling to myself before stopping. “You got the right brother for the job. I’m not going to let you down.” I finished, promising myself as much as my kid sister.

This was just another interview. Nothing crazy about showing up to sweet talk someone into giving you a good job. At least, that was what I was trying to believe as the mansion grew larger and larger at my approach. The center and one of the wings was three stories tall. The other was two stories and still imposing in its length. Then there was the yard…

Immaculately shaped bushes saluted me with green swords held high on each side of the driveway. More fantastical shapes spotted the enormous front yard. The place was the size of a large park, even having a forested section in the distance. At least, I was assuming the forest was part of this place. I had seen the same fence over there from the road. Once I was close enough to realize that the driveway’s fountain is larger than my car, I could see the intricate carvings all around it as if there was an entire story just in that piece.

I cursed and swerve, having nearly hit a girl. Where did she come from? Slamming on my breaks, I quickly slammed the car in park, unfastened my seatbelt, and got out, almost walking into a very short maid with extremely long, reddish hair.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay!?” I asked, trying to see if she looked injured.

The pristine maid smiled and said, “Welcome to our humble abode, Jemal Castello. Please, follow me.”

“B-But… my car…?” I started as she walked away.

“No one will disturb it, and we don’t care where you’re parked. You are the only interview today.” she assured me without even glancing back.

I jogged a few steps to catch up, feeling like a giant next to the short girl. At six-foot-one, I was a reasonably large man, but I didn’t typically tower over someone by so much. “S-Sorry. What’s your name?”

“You may call me ‘Mila’. Though I bear a striking resemblance to the master’s fiancée, please try not to confuse us for one another. The maid uniform should be a hint to who is who.” she replied as the two sets of double doors opened one after the other of their own accord to let us into the house.

“I’ll do my best.” I promised. My eyes were drawn to the twin stairs leading up to a balcony where I half-expected James to be standing. He wasn’t. The place reminded me of castles in movies with the lavish adornments everywhere.

As we walked, Mila expounded on the estate’s history as well as the history of various pieces of art that caught my attention. Her casual manner was relaxing. We didn’t seem rushed for time, and I had shown up a bit earlier than I meant.

Surprisingly, she took me all the way up the large flight of stairs at the end of the hall. Was I going to meet someone important to the company? The lavishness certainly didn’t cease. Where the art downstairs had looked expensive, the stuff up here struck me as priceless. At very least, the displays were embedded into the walls with protective glass guarding each painting. A large vase was cordoned off as if we were in a museum.

Mila motioned to a large, wooden door, and it opened for me to enter. Inside James Michael Somerset III strode toward me, and I found myself staring up when he reached me.

“W-Wow.” I muttered as I accepted his handshake, embarrassed a second later as what I said registered.

“Yes?” questioned James, smiling and releasing my hand.

“Nothing. Sorry.” I told him.

“Take a deep breath, have a seat, and relax.” he told me, motioning to one of the chairs in front of the desk as he walked around it.

I did as he said, shocked by the feel of the seat the moment I touched it. “Whoa.” Despite looking like leather, this wasn’t. Something soft as a baby’s bottom coated the chair, but I didn’t completely sink into it either. There was just enough firmness that I didn’t have to fight to remain upright.

“The seats feel a little different than they look.” acknowledge James with a knowing smile.

“No kidding, but they’re really soft. What is this?” I questioned.

Now seated and still smiling, he said, “It’s complicated. Why do you feel you’d be an excellent addition to Best Friend For Hire?”

The question jarred me out of this quasi-fantasy and back to the game ahead. I needed this job for Kayla’s sake. “Oh. Right. Sorry. Well… ummm..” I started, but my mind was blank. “I-I’m a hard worker, fast learner, and I won’t let you down.” I blurted, the words rushing out after my brain finally started moving again.

“What if I ask the impossible of you?” he questioned, looking serious.

“P-Pardon?” I asked, not sure what to think of the question.

“What if I ask you to do something beyond your limits?” he inquired, smiling slightly.

“I dunno. I mean… well, I-I’ll try anything you say.” I assured him, realizing I didn’t honestly know the limits to what all this job entailed. “That’s what we do here, right? Try to please people no matter their request?”

James’ smile grew, but he said, “No, actually. We try to act as a best friend for our clients, always pursuing their best interests but never being afraid to tell them if they’re in the wrong. Part of your schedule as an employee here will be training in numerous things, such as martial arts. I would want you to be the type of best friend who can protect yourself as well as those around you, but I never want you to feel you have to be a hero, just the best possible friend you can be. The skills of those here vary greatly. Aaliyah, my secretary, is the president of Global Princess Entertainment, which made Ancient Tribes of Earth, currently the most successful video game on the market. Emma is the best gardener you’ll ever meet. Our chef, Marco, has yet to make a meal that is less than exceptional. Jarod is a self-made millionaire due to his engineering prowess. Mila is a self-aware Artificial Intelligence capable of tending to everyone’s needs with exceptional skill and care, often foreseeing a need before it even arises. What can you bring to the team?”

My heart was sinking as he spoke. I knew I couldn’t compete with any of that, not yet at least. I could tell that he was a great guy, and he obviously had amazing people… Did he say Mila was an A.I.? Was that a joke? What if she was? I needed to respond… “Umm… uh… P-perseverance. I don’t have any skills as incredible as those sound, but I will stick to the task at hand until I see the job done right. You’ll never find anyone with more determination than me.”

“You might be surprised.” he stated, still smiling. “Can you juggle?”

I stared at him uncomprehendingly. “What? No. Sorry. Is that something I’ll be doing? I’m sure I can learn.”

He shrugged and said, “Sorry. I really need to work on my skills as an interviewer, having never needed to be interviewed for a job myself. I wasn’t inclined to get a more typical job, so I made this company.”

“I know, sir. Er… umm… I read about you founding the company on the site when I applied, not about your interview skills. T-those seem fine.” I assured him, not willing to argue. He certainly knew how to make a person nervous… but there was something relaxing about him too. He seemed so self-assured, even while admitting to being a lousy interviewer.

“You failed to place an emergency contact on your application, and your résumé could use some work on the formatting. We can help you on both accounts. I’m sure you’ll fit in here just fine.” he stated, holding out his hand across the desk.

I stared in shock at his hand, not remembering what to do as I struggled to comprehend his words. “Y-You’re hiring me?”

He nodded, and I grasped his hands with both of mine as if he were pulling me from the lake.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you! I won’t let you down!” I assured him. My heart was racing, and I was sweating. I quickly let go of his hands, hardly believing what just happened.

As he walked around the desk, he said, “Please, just call me ‘James’. Everyone does. Well, not everyone, but there’s no need to call me ‘sir’ all the time.”

“But Master, Mother loves calling you ‘sir’.” asserted Mila.

I spun around, looking for her. Where was she?

“As I told you, Mila’s a sophisticated A.I. She’s integrated throughout the house, many of the vehicles, and phones as well as the body who greeted you at the door.” he explained nonchalantly.

“Welcome to Best Friend For Hire, Jemal.” she stated, her voice coming from hidden speakers in the room.

“T-That’ll take some getting used to.” I admitted, still trying to make myself believe the words. I couldn’t see any reason James would be lying, but… wow. She had seemed so lifelike. “When do I start?”

“After you move in, assuming you will want to live here. I suppose you could start immediately if you don’t. There’s a wing dedicated to employee housing, and Marco provides exceptional meals.” explained James, looking as if he had no doubt what I’d choose.

“Oh… umm... How do you feel about kids? Ya see, I’ve got a kid sister whom I need to look after.” I replied, hoping against hope that we could live here together. I was already behind on rent, and our meals had been… frugal… since her mom left.

Nodding, James said, “Kayla can live here too. The second floor of the employee wing has some accommodations for families. They’re not large, but the entire first floor of the main building is open for everyone’s use. There’s also the employee rec center where you can get some exercise if you feel like a swim, lifting weights, or anything of that nature. If you have any questions, Mila’s always available to help out.”

“What… umm... How did you know my sister’s name?” I asked, certain that I hadn’t told him.

“Aaliyah does a thorough background check on everyone who applies. Though use of magic on these grounds is encouraged, I do ask that you don’t ever use magic in front our clients, save as a last resort to protect someone.” stated James as if he were just making conversation. “Come along. I’ll give you a tour.”

“Magic!? What?” I asked, staring at his back.

Glancing back, he said, “Yes, you’re able to create telekinetic effects whenever you’re emotional or really focused. That’s a result of inborn magical ability. Such things are perfectly normal here.”

Nothing he said was normal, but he knew. I quickly walked after to catch up to him, staring hard at Mila, who was waiting for us in the hall. She looked human. Beautiful, maybe a bit exotic, but she was obviously human. Having caught James, I still wasn’t letting go of his comment on magic. “You’re joking.” I asserted, staring as a light appeared over his hand… just floating there. Magic light.

“Though not a requirement, most people here have ‘gifts’ of this nature. My fiancée can create enormous amounts of heat, enough to vaporize a city from what I’ve heard. Emma’s skill with gardening is aided by her ability to manipulate plants in a very large area, causing them to grow and flourish or even revert to seeds at her whim. You’ll see.” he claimed. “Along with lessons in martial arts, I give lessons in magic every morning. Your sister’s welcome to join us. I understand she has similar abilities to your own, though slightly stronger.”

“What kind of background service did you use!?” I exclaimed, realizing I was practically yelling at my boss just after the words left my mouth. “Sorry, sir… er… James. T-That’s just not the type of stuff on public record.”

He came to a stop again and looked into my eyes with a soul-piercing gaze. “Trust me on this: Aaliyah’s explanations are so incredibly thorough that everyone will question your sanity if you attempt to even read your employment contract in full. I can only imagine the weeks you’d spend listening if she were to explain her background check process.”

“Oh, Master, you’ll spoil all of Mother’s fun!” exclaimed Mila from behind me. She was smiling, but looked just like I’d expect a proper maid to be…. so human.

Looking back to James, I nodded, following him as he walked down the stairs.

After the first flight, he asked “Is Cosette in?”

“She’s currently on a job, Master.” replied Mila.

He nodded and continued on ward. He casually waved to rooms as we passed, stating their purpose all the way down the hall where we stepped into a very large kitchen. “Jemal, this is Marco. Marco, Jemal.”

“Piacere di conoscerti.” stated Marco as he shook my hand.

I replied in Italian, telling him I was pleased to meet him as well. After he asked, I explained that I learned Italian from my father, who had lived in Italy as a boy. Marco insisted that we have a good talk sometime, but encouraged me to go onward, after having James and I taste his stracciatella semifreddo that was to be for tonight’s dessert. I had no words for how incredible it tasted.

The tour continued and I met more of my coworkers up until Mila said I needed to pick Kayla up from school. They knew everything here. Before I left, James insisted that I let him and company help me with the move as soon as I was ready. I was so thankful that I nearly cried. Life really was getting better.

#Best Friend For Hire Reprise #Best #Friend #For #Hire #Reprise #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

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whisker-biscuit · 6 years

Text

Harley Quinn is Not A Good Role Model: Chapter 10

Rated T-M for language and graphic descriptions of violence

Pairing: Dr. Flug/Black Hat

Summary: Dr. Flug Slys is a successful psychiatrist working at one of the world’s most respected mental institutes for the criminally insane. But this new patient is unlike anything he’s ever encountered. Flug is determined to help him, nonetheless.

Black Hat has other ideas.

Chapter 10: Icarus

Warning: This chapter contains references to graphic violence and derogatory homophobic slurs and prejudice. Please tread with caution.

After the whole ‘moving 505 to his new room and trying to keep Black Hat from killing us both’ fiasco, Flug was entirely prepared to sit in the security room watching security feed of the two most secure cells for the rest of the night, sleep be damned. He’d already set himself up in one of the desk chairs, with paperwork, a decent neck pillow and at least 1,500 grams of nonperishable foods. This was mostly thanks to his sudden, bizarre camaraderie with Lucas – and Ben, to a lesser extent – who gave him access to the screens and got the other guards off his back.

He had finally gotten comfortable in the swivel chair, armed with a granola bar and a formal request for time off for that EPPA convention in a month, with his legs propped up and his bag snugly fit against the pillow, when one of his phones buzzed. It was the one in his left coat pocket, which signaled a personal message instead of a work one from the phone stuck in his right. Flug grumbled to himself and shifted to reach for it, and found an email for the arrival of an order of cosmetics from the website recommended to him from the nurse.

That order had been fairly expensive, and the last thing he needed was for it to sit unguarded at the local post office for who knew how long.

Despite his severe misgivings, the psychiatrist was forced out of his vigilant post and away from the security feeds, taking his provisions with him. He knocked on the doorframe to get the closest guard’s attention, explaining the situation and asking for a temporary fill-in while he went to retrieve his package.

“Don’t worry, Doc,” she batted her lashes at him, “I’ll do anything for you.”

It didn’t really make him feel better.

On the way out of the lobby, Flug was so stuck in his worries that he nearly collided with a nurse carrying a large bundle of standard patient uniforms. Clothes fluttered to the ground in heaps and left the poor girl with only a single pair of pants in her grasp.

“Oh, I’m s-so sorry, I’m so,” he crouched at the same time she did and they collided heads, causing both to fall back on their butts and rub their new respective bumps. “Owww…”

“Nnngh,” the nurse’s eyes were barely visible past her dreadlocks, which cascaded down to her chest. She lifted her head to look up at him and recognized his face at the same time he read her nametag.

It was Susie, the quiet nurse he had given 505’s prescription to nearly a week ago. It felt like much, much longer. They sat awkwardly across from each other with large eyes, then simultaneously realized the uniforms were still on the floor. The girl hastily made to pick them up and Flug wasted no time in joining her, grateful for something else to distract him.

“I’m – I’m really sorry about that.” He offered meekly, keeping his head down and away from her. If he’d looked up he would have noticed she was doing the same.

“No, no it’s no trouble,” Susie mumbled, embarrassment present in the red flush across her dark warm cheeks. “I should have watched where I was going.”

“Ah, m-me too.” They got all the fallen clothes together and began the tedious process of folding and stacking each pair. Flug was painfully aware of the large metal clock ticking away above the entrance. As soon as the last shirt was placed on top of the pile he scrambled to his feet, sneakers squeaking against the marble floor.

“Thank you,” the nurse carefully hefted the uniforms as she stood up, putting one hand on top to keep it steady. She looked more closely at him. “I haven’t seen you in a few days, Dr. Slys. Are – are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’ve been j-just great,” the psychiatrist resisted the childish urge to tap his foot. “A lot on my plate with a new p-patient, that’s all. Everything’s great.”

“That’s good.” Susie shuffled, a bit more relaxed now. “We’ve all been worried about you, Doctor. That crim – that new inmate, Black Hat, all the nurses avoid his room and I don’t know how you can do it. How are you so brave?”

“I’m not, um, I’m not brave. Not that brave. It’s just my job.” Flug brushed out his lab coat, head ducked. “I appreciate your c-concern, really, but I’m fine. Nothing I can’t survive – handle! Nothing I can’t handle,” he amended quickly at her pinched face.

“Okay…” the nurse bit her lip. “That’s…good to hear, Dr. Slys. But we’re here to help – the nurses. If you need anything. Please don’t be afraid to ask.”

“I won’t,” the words were sincere. “Thank you and…” he gestured jerkily at the clothing, “I’m so sorry about that.”

Susie shook her head, grateful smile dimpling her face. “No, it happens. They’re dirty anyway.”

They parted ways a little less awkwardly than they had met, and Flug felt relatively happy until he caught a glimpse of the clock and nearly had an aneurysm. Sprinting down the building steps and into the parking lot, the psychiatrist reached his reserved parking space in the span of fifteen seconds and had to take a quick breather against his car.

It was a silver Chevrolet Cobalt, modeled in 2008 and in good condition. Wasn’t fancy, wasn’t what most of his staff had, but it got the job done and he was going to use it for all it was worth before getting anything else. Besides, no one suspected someone of his occupation drove anything like this. Better for avoiding media after a press conference or whatever else.

Better for keeping a low profile. It kept him safe.

The post office was almost completely void of people, thank god, and Flug waited as patiently as he could while the postal worker checked through his ID and verified the transaction. The package wasn’t too big to fit in his arms, but the skewed weight had him juggling it clumsily as he strode briskly back to his car. He stuck it in the passenger seat and buckled it up for good measure. Safety first and all that.

Instead of taking it back to his apartment, he made an executive decision to just drop it off in his office before resuming his watch of 505’s situation. That decision was regretted quite a bit when he was halfway down the hall and turned the corner only to stare at the barrel chest of Dr. Bautista.

His luck really sucked sometimes.

The other psychiatrist looked down his nose as if the doctor wasn’t worth his head turn, but then his eyes lighted on the box in Flug’s hands and did a double take.

“Make-up? You bought make-up?” He sneered in a way that had Flug gritting his teeth. “I didn’t know you were that kind, Dr. Slys.”

“Excuse me,” the psychiatrist tried to walk around, but Bautista matched his step backwards and folded his arms, making it nearly impossible to move forward without brushing into him. “Please, Doctor, I really need to get through.”

“Is that why you had me kicked off the inmate’s case? Scared I’d see this?” The larger man stabbed an angry finger into the package, almost knocking Flug off balance with the force of the tap. “Is this what’s under that dumb bag? Shit like this?”

“I d-don’t need to explain anything to you. A-And I asked you to move.” He tried to shove past but was stopped again. The box creaked a little under his grip. “Dr. Bautista, please, I talked to the director a-and she approved my request, th-that’s all there is to it. She wants us t-to work out our differences and I can’t do that if you won’t let me through!”

There was a tense moment of standoff, but Flug was sick of this day and sick of bullies with names of the letter B and he refused to be the first to crack. His coworker’s hard gaze trailed down to the box again, a defeat hidden behind contempt.

“Is this why you wanted my intern, too? Gonna make him dress up like those freaks on TV? Turn him into a queer, like you?”

‘you’re German, aren’t you? Why you gotta be a fuckin’ queer?’

Flug sucked in a breath and Bautista realized in that instance what he’d said, what he was doing. The bigger man metaphorically backpedaled and looked nervously around for any sign of other employees.

“Forget it, forget what I said. Do whatever the hell you want, he’s your intern now anyway, he’s not worth my time. And neither are you.” The psychiatrist pivoted on his heel and stalked away, eyeing nearby closed doors apprehensively as he went.

Left behind was a psychiatrist struggling to keep himself from falling apart right there in the hall.

He booked it for his office, hands shaking so much that the box’s contents rattled haphazardly. The moment he reached his little sanctuary and the door was shut Flug collapsed to his knees, hunched over the package and headwear pressed into its top.

This was not supposed to happen. He was supposed to have moved past this, give or take a paper bag and some shaky stuttering. He had moved past it, hadn’t had such a bad episode since before the Institute, before restraining scary inmates and psycho patients and dealing with…whatever Black Hat was.

But the memory bubbled up in familiar sickness and the doctor had just enough sense to reach up and lock the handle above him, fingers trembling with the effort. His hand dropped, boneless in his lap, and Flug stared in horrified awe as the yellow glove disappeared, the white lab coat disappeared. In its place was exposed pale skin, with the red overcoat clashing terribly with the icy ground and the snowy air. He couldn’t feel the cold, but it was right there, right there and he was back he was –

A cough made him look up.

It was a group of five men, all their heads shaved to the bone and with near-matching tattoos right at the nape of their necks – barely visible from the high-collared heavy blue jackets they shared. He was not one of them, had never seen them before and hoped never to again, but a job was a job and he wasn’t going to complain, especially not here. They were mostly ignoring him anyway, grumbling to themselves about the frigid wind as they all waited behind that warehouse.

Their hit wouldn’t be there for another ten minutes at least, however, and he could sense their restlessness even as he pulled and twitched at his coat. He hadn’t had the chance to do his good-luck straighten-up routine when he’d left this morning, and it was filling him with irrational, irritating dread.

One of the smaller skinheads finally got bored enough to look his way, and he bit his tongue and kept his expression carefully neutral as the man approached.

“So you’re, like, really the guy helpin’ us out here?” It was said nonchalantly, in the tone of someone who very literally had nothing else better to do.

“That’s right,” he replied, eyes landing somewhere just under the other’s gaze. Directness was dangerous, was seen as challenge, but avoiding the face altogether was often seen as an insult. He’d toed this beam plenty of times and was well-versed in the physical whisperings of others.

The man scrubbed at the thick line of stubble under his jaw, itchy and miserable from the cold. “So what’s your deal, then? She said you were German, like honest to god bloodline and everything.”

He stilled the movements of his hands. “Yes, I am. My name was on the contract, if I remember right.”

“Oh, yeah,” more scratching, “that’s right, I saw your name, yeah. That really was German, huh. You ever think about joinin’ one of us ‘stead of her? Less rules and shit.”

“Ah, I don’t know,” he glanced over at the rest. One or two were starting to pay attention. “It’s really good pay, I guess. And she lets me use her lab, I can build whatever I want, whenever I want. It’s hard to leave a setup like that, you know?”

“Sure,” the skinhead reached a scarred hand to his neck and rubbed aggressively at the inflamed skin under his swastika. It was very recent, possibly within the last few days if his math was right.

“Stop fuckin’ with it,” gruffed one of the largest members, who stood and stretched before stepping heavily to join the two. “It’ll get infected and then you’re gonna cry like a bitch for weeks.”

“I ain’t gonna cry like no bitch,” the obvious newbie snarled, agitated by the cold and the teasing. “Only bitches here are all of you, huddled together over there for warmth. It’s pathetic.”

“Mm,” the older, larger man looked over the non-member with a skeptical look to his eye. “You’re kinda scrawny for your age, aren’t you? For your work?”

He kept his face clear, going for a simple shrug of shoulders and a slight fiddle of his coat zipper. It wasn’t the first time hearing this question doubting his appearance, but he had come prepared and equipped and demonstration would persuade these men much more than words. If only the damn target would show up.

“He kinda looks like a queer.”

The suggestion was much more unexpected and he stiffened up, eyes moving very slowly to look at the newbie, who sneered and stared at him with newfound amusement.

“Izzat true? You a queer?”

“No,” he said, firm and strong and leaving no room for suspicion. “I’m a scientist.”

The bigger, older man gave a few deep, rumbling chuckles and nudged his irritated companion. “That was a good one, come on.”

“Wasn’t nothing,” the younger one responded, shadowed face getting darker every second. “It wasn’t even an answer. I thought he’d at least give me an answer. You afraid of something, kid? Got something to hide?”

“Don’t call him kid, you’re barely growing pubes, idiot.”

The two skinheads started slinging insults at each other, and the rest of the gang was perking up at the sight. In the meantime he edged away, very slowly and as quiet as he could be in the snow. His sense for danger was always reliable and it was telling him that if their hit didn’t arrive soon, something was going to happen.

Something very, very bad.

Of course, he was only about a meter further from the verbal brawl before the newbie turned angrily back to him and spat at the ground.

“Just answer the fucking’ question, Aryan. You gay or not?”

“I’m not gay,” he insisted, but this question was not one he had mastered a safe answer to, had never had to before, and something must have shown on his face, in his voice, in his words maybe – because the larger, older man straightened up abruptly with practiced ease. The gaze of the young new one became sharp and predatory and hovered somewhere between eagerness and loathing.

It wasn’t until all five began to circle him that he realized he was hitting the cold back of the warehouse.

“Repeat that for me,” said the older, larger skinhead, and he was starting to think this one was the leader, the way he seemed to tower above them all and demanded respect, and an honest answer.

“I’m not – gay!” He insisted again, words slipping only because of the sudden closeness of one man to his right. It startled him into a voice crack and that was all the prompting they needed. He was pinned to the wall by three different pairs of hands and his head smacked painfully against the metal.

“Hang on, hang on guys,” hissed a voice belonging to one pair of grasping hands. “We gotta do the job first, right? She’s not gonna pay us if we don’t do the job.”

“I’m not working with a fucking fag,” hissed another. “Got enough of that shit in the world already, it doesn’t belong here with real people. It’ll taint us all if we don’t stop it.”

“But I’m not – I’m not…!” He tried to cry out just as a gloved hand slapped him hard and stung worse than the cold ever could.

“Shut up.” It was the newbie, eyes blazing and manic. “You’re German, aren’t you? Why you gotta be a fuckin’ queer? Bet you’ve been wanting to fuck all of us this whole time, huh. Bet it really gets you off bein’ around real men for once.”

“What should we do with him?” Asked the hesitant one again. “You know she’ll put a hit out on us if we kill him, you – you guys know that.”

“I know,” rumbled the larger, older man quietly. He was standing behind them all, overseeing as was his position, but his gaze had landed on the back of the newbie’s neck. Something passed his visage, and for one moment there was no white in his eyes. “Pin him to the ground, on his back.”

They complied eagerly and he fought for every centimeter of height lost until someone got impatient and punched him hard in the stomach. He collapsed immediately, gasping for breath even as they stretched his arms out and sat on his legs.

“Chase, give me your cigarette.”

“What?! Why the hell –”

“Just fucking give it to me!” The tone left no room for argument and he watched in stuck terror as a half-used cigarette traded hands to the older, larger skinhead, who walked around and crouched right above his head.

He stared, pleading and cold and hurting and asking for a single shred of mercy. But they had both played this game for a long while and thus both knew there would be none.

“I think,” the soulless black look was back. “The best way to do this,” a giant, meaty hand gripped painfully in his hair and stilled his shaking head. “Is to show our employer exactly what we think of little creatures like you poisoning our perfect race.”

The burning tip hovered a millimeter from his wet right cheek.

“You said you’re German. I think it’s time to embrace your roots.”

The tip came down.

And Flug cried silently into his square paper mask.

Hey guys, this one was a heavy one and I apologize for it. If it triggered or upset anyone, please let me know and I’ll give more warning in the beginning of the chapter. Please keep in mind that this story as a whole will continue to deal with heavy topics like this, but it isn’t my intention to sugarcoat these things or paint them as insignificant.

Thanks for listening. Last chapter is tomorrow and then we’ll be all caught up. Hope you all have a good one.

#villainous #villainous au #asylum au #dr flug #black hat #paperhat

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kindabraveandlittlestupid · 6 years

Photo

Try not to get caught up with the labels: Feminist, Equalist, or Humanist. The tag matters less than the larger goal society should set out to achieve. Equality for all and sometimes Equity to make small tips to the scale where needed. I am not afraid of embracing the concept of being a Male Feminist because my world is saturated by politics and I understand the players. I know the villains who wish to pit Feminist against Equalist or Humanist are doing so not because they believe any of the labels but because they benefit from the distraction between like-minded individuals who seek the same goals. Most men are not in the social position to be “The Patriarchy” but those men of wealth and power through industry, politics, or religion are the Patriarchy. An so long as they can make Men believe Women are a threat to them, that Black Lives Matter is a danger to White Americans or that Immigrants are taking the wealth of the country, these powerful men do very well so long as we keep fighting with the person next to us instead of realizing the real villains are often above us.

This is one reason why I like the idea of the Rise of Matriarchs in American Society. We can rattle these men’s cages and make them aware their power is suspect to change by a greater majority of society. This is not to say women cannot be corrupted by wealth and power as well but societies that have a more representative/diverse governments tend to be LESS corrupt and that is a step towards progress everyone benefits (except the extremely wealthy men who clutch power).

This post (despite the starter above) is not a political breakdown post though I plan to write on these subjects more in the future. Instead, it's more of clarification of my views and where I stand on various topics related to feminism. I realize there are topics that I might not touch base on and if you want me to add one you can shoot me a note. I also might hold opinions that do not take an absolutist view towards a topic and in today's politics that can be dangerous on the left and right because anyone who isn't falling in line 100% can be labeled a traitor to the cause or party.

Access to Birth Control and Planned Parenthood

I am always bewildered how nonsensical conservatives are in regards to these topics. The very best means of avoiding abortions is education, family planning, and birth control which prevent young women from having to make a difficult choice. Despite this, they believe in abstinence and try to remove birth control basically pushing more young women into the realm of motherhood because of a few minutes of passion that will ultimately decide the next 18+ years of their lives!

I believe Planned Parenthood should be available and welcome in each community to ensure that young women and men are protected, educated, and equipped with the proper means of avoiding unwanted pregnancies. I also believe condoms, IUDs, Birth Control Pills and Plan B’s should be available on the cheap and discreet to further protection. Lastly, Birth Control should be covered by insurance, even business insurance regardless of the employers personal/religious views. In other words, I am pretty damn liberal on this.

Abortion Rights (Link)

There are fewer choices a woman might face more difficult then deciding if she should or should not get an Abortion. I wrote in detail about this topic before so I will give you the short version. I believe NO ONE likes the idea of a abortion but those of us who understand the issue also know that forcing any woman regardless of age, race or social position to give birth also not ok. We in society should make this choice informative and safe. We do that by having comprehensive sexual education and birth control to be the ‘front line’ of avoiding this difficult choice. If she decides to take the next step or explore her options it shouldn't be done by bullshit church clinics attempting to use shame, guilt or false information to change her views but institutions that provide her all the options and information she could need to make the choice that's best for her. Everything should be her choice without influence from the community, the church, her parents or even the male involved. Aftercare programs should also be there to help her no matter what choice she chooses.

I think we should aim for the 20 weeks (Recent science article suggests this is possible when the babies consciousness kicks in. Open to changing if the article ends up being false) and under as the optimal time to make the choice. However, I am open to learning more on this topic and discussing if the “when” should be pushed further back. Lastly, if it comes down the choice between saving the mother or unborn fetus, I believe the mother's life is more important unless she deems otherwise. There are few political topics where I think men should shut up and let women decide... this is one of them.

Paid Family Leave

This isn't just a woman's issue but also a men's issue as well. I would actually argue this is a progressive issue as both the father and mother both deserve to take part in raising a child in those early stages. We need to consider this as a long-standing social program to allow career-oriented adults (both male and female) to continue their careers but also to support their family. We also need to ensure employers don't attempt to punish these women (and men) by skipping over them for promotions or refusing raises because they decided to have a child.

There is no argument from me that women deserve a longer leave of absence being the one who gave birth and breastfeeds the baby. I think both parents could benefit from this sort of social net and it's important we build it in such a way that it also covers two mothers or two fathers and even adoption.

Girls Education

With a better education for girls in the United States (and for the matter the world) has proven to improve economies, lower crime and even slow overpopulation because academic opportunity provides new options instead of simply being a wife/mother (nothing wrong with those if you choose that as part of your lifestyle). This is still a major issue as there are still countries that place girls education as secondary to boys education. Even if they are far away it is still our responsibility to ensure girls rights to an education is provided for them. Its pretty clear I believe in this topic wholeheartedly, however if you know me then you know there is more often then not a but around the corner.

The only caveat I can think to note is Female only education programs. An example of this is Girls Who Code that teaches programming to young girls. I love this program and I think its great they are trying to narrow the tech industry gap by pushing for more female coders. However, as someone who worked in a non-profit industry for a few years and created co-ed athletic leagues, there is value in having boys work with girls. These young women won't be working with only females forever, eventually, they will have to work with male coders and gender segregation robs them of that early experience. On a second point (and the real thing the operators of this program are missing out on) it is the fact if they have males in their class/program they can catch/alter/adjust the problematic behavior of male students to make them the new gold standard of how a male coder should act with their female coworkers. I suppose this is all just perception but I always believed its better to have both genders work together so they might view each other as equals rather embrace a gender segregation to achieve some corporate goal of having a bigger female workforce without address the issue of toxic male work environments.

MeToo Movement

I admit I am of mixed feelings about the MeToo Movement. I hesitate to support ANY movement that relies heavily on the court of public opinion. I worry about the history we all have and how sharp this social edge is at cutting down men (and women) who stand accused of any transgression. At the same time, I understand this is the reaction when sexual assault (verbal or physical) is simply swept under the rug for decades.

It scares me a little making me wonder if I ever pushed something too far. I think of jobs were I work with men and we goof off telling stories but having female coworkers nearby. They participated in the tales but I feel a dreadful concern that one or more of them simply played along trying not to make a fuss. Perhaps I made someone feel uncomfortable online at some point in the past.

Lord knows I was a victim myself to a young stalker who drove past my work taking pics and texting the line “LOL. I know where you work”. I was only able to make her stop harassment when she texted things like she was gonna lie to the police and send me to jail and I replied back with the screenshots of the whole conversation making her think how they (the police) might react when I share the text logs (clearly she didn't think her grand plan thru). I also endured a few indecent encounters with drunk women (usually on Saint Patricks Day) when I wear my kilt to the bar and they lift the edge to get a peek. I politely laughed it off and brush their hand away trying to ignore the fact they were we attempting to see if I was wearing the kilt authentically.

When you’re the victim of something like this you know it in your core that people were mistreating you. I know I never groped a woman, physically assaulted anyone or flashed myself but have I made improper jokes and I hope I never made anyone feel uncomfortable.

In the end, the MeTooMovement is a good thing. It needs to evolve into the next stage taking on a political form where it becomes not just a hashtag and social media post but evolve into real-world policy and social change that adjusts how men treat women in society (and the occasional female on male transgression). We can all do a little better and MeToo has the momentum to perhaps create a lasting social change by creating consent and decency program that could be taught both in schools and also in adult careers.

Women in Politics (Link)

I touched base with this topic before and I am pretty comfortable in my position. We don’t need more women in politics, we need more Smart Women in politics (and for that matter, we could do with some smarter men as well). Women make roughly between 20 to 30% of the leadership positions in government. Champions like Lee, Clinton, Warren, and Collins make up some of the smartest women in politics and bring a character with them that makes not only Washington better but the whole country better.

The reason why I make the distinction between “More Smart Women in Politics” and just “More Women in Politics” because of women like DeVos, Palin, Bachmann, and Sanders exist. Really just stupid stupid people who don’t know nor care about the long-term effect of their policies and their divisive rhetoric. We could do better than the likes of them and I hope this 2018 election brings a wave of strong/smart women who will balance out this government to something more representing of the country... 50/50.

NOTE: Preferably a BLUE wave of strong women.

Conclusion

I handpicked these topics because they relate to women's issues. By no means are these topics the only thing women care about but they connect deeply with feminism. As I said above if there is something you care for me to add to the list and hear my personal views/beliefs then shoot me a note. If we do not agree 100% on a topic I ask you to reflect on what I write before writing a hot worded post. If you have an opposing or slightly different view on a subject and think I could benefit from hearing a feminine take on a topic, by all means, share your post (and links to information). I am always evolving in my opinions and alternative views with thoughtful insight commonly shift my views. As always thanks for reading.

Regards Michael California

#Male Feminist #Supporting Women #Progressive #Liberal #Politics #GirlsWhoCode #Women in Politics #MeToo #Me Too Movement #Abortion #Abortion Rights #Pro Choice #Planned Parenthood #Paid Family Leave #Girls Education #Equality #Equity

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hollandorks · 6 years

Text

The Montreal Problem

Chapter 4

Summary: The reader has big plans to spend a month in Montreal with her boyfriend. The problem? He breaks up with her just as her flight is leaving. Now she’s going to be stuck in an unfamiliar city for a month with no place to stay. That is, until an unexpected hero offers her a solution.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Epilogue 1 Epilogue 2 The London Problem

Word count: 3463

Author’s Note: So, so sorry for posting so late! Today was way busier than it was supposed to be, BUT I’m still posting it before it’s technically tomorrow! (By only 10 minutes and in my timezone, but still, I did it).

Shoutout to everyone who told me to post today because I’m so excited about the chapters from here on out. Also shoutout to all of you asking to be on the tag-list! Seeing such a long list at the end of this chapter makes me so happy, so thank you all!! This chapter was a lot of fun to write as it’s kind of the moment when things start to pick up in the story. I hope you guys enjoy it! And I’ll almost definitely be posting at least one more time before the weekend is over (but probably two times, because who am I kidding)

Y/N–Your Name

B/F/N–Boyfriend’s Name

Golden light spilled between the curtains and fell across your face. You groaned and squinted grumpily at the sun before rolling over. You were so comfortable, but so exhausted. You peeked at the time on your phone. It was after eleven in the morning, and you had a few missed texts.

The most recent was from Tom. Rented a car for the month. Hope you don’t mind small SUVs. Also, I have no idea if you can drive legally in Canada with an American license, but the keys are on the kitchen counter.

You read one from Harrison next. We’re all on set until this evening. Tom rented a car for you. Googled it and your license is valid as long as you have proof of insurance or something.

Your heart leapt a little at the two texts. You were getting royal treatment from these strangers. Tom was paying for your stay, which had all been Harrison’s idea. You flopped back onto the pillows and sighed. This was...crazy.

There was a text from your boyfriend with an address and time of where to meet for lunch the next day. You clung to those words, to the hope that in twenty-four hours you might be moving in with him for the month instead of living here.

And then there were the texts from your mom. With all of the “moving day” business the day before, you had forgotten to tell her that you’d arrived safely. Her texts went from polite to angry. You hurriedly texted back, telling her a half-truth about crashing as soon as you’d gotten back. You replied to your other texts as well. You realized, too, that you had about twenty new follow requests from various fan accounts for Tom. You ignored them all.

You spent the day lounging around, exploring the house and backyard, breathing in the cool Canadian air. You were almost at peace.

The boys got home in a burst of noise and laughter just as you were about to heat up leftover pizza for dinner--which is what you had had for lunch, too. Not that you minded.

You blinked in surprise, still in the same sweats and tshirt from last night. Harry came in first, a camera hanging around his neck.

“--nose for the third time,” he was saying. Tom was shaking his head as he pushed past his brother.

“I did not! I landed it just fine, it was the wind--” Tom argued.

“Mate, you tripped,” Harrison laughed wildly, appearing next. You heard Sam in the next room laughing. You were still standing in the same place, fridge door open, pizza box in hand. They didn’t seem to notice you at the moment.

You quietly shut the fridge and put the pizza box on the counter.

“You’re not eating pizza again, are you Y/N?” Harry asked. “Tom’s taking us out tonight to celebrate not breaking his nose for the third time.”

“It was the wind!” Tom called from upstairs. Laughter echoed in the kitchen.

“No, that’s okay, I’ll eat here. I like pizza,” you said.

“Unacceptable, Y/N,” Harrison said with fake gravity. “If Tom has it in his head to treat us, let him. We use as much money of his as we can.”

“I heard that!” Tom’s voice called, more distant than before. “You parasites!”

“It’s true though!” Harrison shouted back. He turned back to you. “Can you be ready in twenty minutes or so?”

“No problem.” You hurried off to your room to begin digging through your clothes.

You hadn’t hung anything up before falling asleep, but thankfully de-wrinkle spray existed and you had a bottle. You picked your least sexy dress, a gray and white, long-sleeved tshirt dress, and paired it with a pair of short boots. You pulled your hair up, swiped on mascara and eyeliner, and called it good. At the last second you remembered deodorant.

You were back in the living room in ten minutes. Sam was already there, slouched on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up at you and smiled.

“You look nice,” he said politely before promptly going back to his phone.

“Thank you,” you murmured, a bit embarrassed.

“Hey, di--oh, hey, Y/N,” Harrison said as he burst into the room. You were certain he’d been about to call Sam some sort of name, and smiled. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” you said again. Your face grew even hotter than before. You almost said, You, too, because he did look great. He’d changed into a black button up and gray jacket.

Tom was the last one down, his hair freshly damp from a shower, wearing a simple black tshirt and jacket. You thought that he looked good, too, and immediately felt guilty for it.

Tomorrow, you thought, Tomorrow and I’ll be back where I’m supposed to be.

The ride to dinner was a rowdy one. Harry and Harrison gleefully told you a story about how Tom had been showing off for Daisy Ridley--dropping her name so casually you felt faint just thinking about it--and almost broke his nose because he tripped. Tom kept insisting that the wind was strong and knocked him off balance, which only made the other boys laugh harder. Sam was mostly quiet the whole ride, like you were. You got the feeling that he was shy, too.

The restaurant was more casual than you’d been expecting, which turned out to be a good thing. You all seemed to beat the dinner crowd because the place was mostly empty. The twins both told you to order whatever you want. You weren’t sure if they were joking, so you kept it simple. You had money with you too, just in case.

Somehow, you ended up between Sam and Harrison. You ended up being glad, because Sam provided you with a quiet, steady conversational partner that balanced nicely with the rowdiness of the other three.

“They like to put on a show,” Sam said at one point after your food came. Tom was regaling them with a hilarious story about the time he’d tried to pick up a girl using the Spider-Man card, only for her to laugh in his face. “They’re showing off because there’s a girl around.” He grinned. “It’ll calm down in a few days once they get used to you.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty...hyper,” you noted with half a smile. Harrison and Tom were currently arm wrestling instead of eating. You were pretty sure it was part of some complex betting system, but hadn’t worked it out completely.

“They are,” Sam agreed. “But....well, they’re always like this. Just less...this.”

For the most part, you were entertained. Your cheeks and sides hurt from laughing and you were no longer worrying about your lunch date the following day. You thanked Tom profusely for dinner as you all piled back into the car. Somehow you ended up with the passenger seat, which also seemed to be part of the betting system the boys had going on. Tom won the arm wrestling match and forced Harrison to give up his usual seat.

“Want to come to set tomorrow?” Tom asked as he drove. The backseat was suspiciously quiet, broken only by the occasional hushed laugh. You suspected that there may be a video of Tom almost breaking his nose. “Daisy’ll be there, and Nick Jonas, and I could introduce you and--”

You bit your lip. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m meeting B/F/N for lunch.”

The entire car fell quiet.

“B/F/N?” Tom repeated. “As in, your ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah. We’re going to meet and...talk.”

Tom hummed but said nothing else. The others stayed quiet for a while, finally breaking out in hushed whispers again as Tom turned into what you recognized as the neighborhood.

You leaned a little closer to him. “I think they’re up to something,” you said quietly.

“Oh, most definitely,” Tom whispered back with a grin. “They almost always are.”

“Do they gang up on you?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“All the time. I’m an easy target, I think. But I don’t get as embarrassed as Haz or Sam do about stuff.”

He turned into the driveway.

“Thank you, again,” you told him in the moment before he turned off the ignition as the others got out.

“You’re welcome, darling,” he murmured. “But no need to keep thanking me.”

“Sorry. I just--thanks.” You mentally smacked your forehead. “Sorry!”

Tom laughed good-naturedly and led the way inside.

You forgot about your lunch the next day until you climbed into bed. You were no longer sure you wanted things to work out as they should. Part of you--a larger part that you would readily admit--wanted to stick around and get to know these unexpected new friends.

The next morning, you told yourself that it was stupid to dress up so nice for lunch with a guy trying to break up with you, but you were going to do it anyway. Hell, it was stupid of you to go in the first place. But you couldn’t help clingy tightly to the last remnants of hope for your relationship. You wracked your brain for anything you may have done wrong over the past few months. You practiced a speech about devoting yourself to the relationship, about sacrificing everything you were doing to move to Montreal for the next six months.

You bounded down the hall in the morning, makeup and hair perfect, wearing the wine-red dress that B/F/N had always adored. It was probably too fancy for lunch, but you dressed it down with your shoes and a casual jacket. You wanted to make an impression, was all.

You let a surprised shriek upon finding Sam lurking in the kitchen, making himself brunch or a snack or something.

“Sorry!” you exclaimed. “I thought you all had left by now.”

Sam smirked at your reaction. “Nah, Harry and I took the morning off to edit a project. What’re you all dressed up for?”

“Lunch. With B/F/N. Remember?”

“Ahh. Well...have...fun?” Sam flushed red and promptly disappeared.

You put the restaurant’s address into your GPS and grabbed the keys for the rental car. Thankfully, it was only about twenty to thirty minutes away according to your phone.

You beat B/F/N to the restaurant and waited at the table for at least fifteen minutes. You were used to it, though. He had never been one to be strictly punctual. It didn’t cross your mind at first that he might have stood you up. But as time passed, you grew more anxious. You fiddled with your phone and debated texting Harrison just for something to do.

The bell over the front door dinged. You looked up, and there he was. Your stomach twisted into knots. Your body’s automatic response was to be excited, happy--making you feel like you were finally home. But you were also nervous and afraid.

“Hi,” you managed to croak out when he approached your table. He slid into the seat with barely a glance in your direction. You held yourself back from taking his hand, touching his arm, reaching out to brush his hair from his face.

“Hey,” he said softly. He opened up the menu and frowned at it. You’d had time to pick what you wanted, something else you were used to.

Several minutes passed in silence as he decided what to order and then as you both ordered. You hurriedly told the waiter that your check would be separate.

Finally, he looked up at you. As your eyes met, something pierced your heart. You could tell by his expression that there was no hope, yet you weren’t going to give up.

“So, where are you staying?” he asked eventually.

“Just...with some friends.” You didn’t feel like explaining the situation. It was too complicated, for one, and you didn’t want him telling you how irresponsible you were staying with four boys, either.

“You have friends in Montreal?” he asked, skeptical.

You shrugged. “Where are you staying?”

“Not far from here, actually. I’m set up in that big apartment building a few blocks that way.” He pointed. “It’s nice, I guess. Close to the office.”

Your heart was beginning to hurt. He suddenly seemed so far away from you.

The food arrived; soup and a sandwich for you, a panini for him. You took a couple bites but found you weren’t hungry.

“Look, B/F/N,” you finally said. “I just...I don’t understand. Why can’t we give it another go? We can make it work. I’ll--I’ll stay here until you can transfer back home. I’ll find a part-time job. Something. Just--please.” You hated that your voice sounded so desperate but couldn’t stop. “Please.”

He very carefully set his sandwich on his plate and wiped his mouth. He was avoiding your gaze again. He took a sip of water, glanced out of the window, and then cleared his throat.

Still looking outside, he said, very quietly, “We can’t give it a try. We gave it a try for months. It--It’s just not going to work.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from crying. “But...why?”

Now he looked sad, truly sad. He looked like he was about to tell you that your grandmother was dying or something.

“Y/N...there’s another girl.”

You rocked back in your chair as if he had physically hit you. Your eyes went wide with shock and disbelief. Another girl? What did that mean? What was he saying? It took you several long minutes to find your voice.

“Another girl?” you repeated dumbly.

“Yeah, I...I don’t know. She works here, too, and we’re both getting transferred to Chicago in six months.” He shrugged.

“Have you--have you been cheating on me?” you demanded in a shrill voice.

He gave you a sharp look and shushed you. “No! No. I wouldn’t--I told her we were going to wait until you and I talked. I wouldn’t do that to you, Y/N, I’m not an asshole.”

You laughed bitterly. “Oh, so just because you haven’t slept with her, you haven’t cheated on me? You are an asshole. You--you waited until last minute before I came here to break up with me. You abandoned me in a foreign city and--” You stood abruptly. You couldn’t sit there any longer. Your chair fell over behind you with a loud clatter. People were staring now, but you didn’t care. “You left me here with no money and nowhere to stay, B/F/N. And you cheated on me.”

The tears were flowing now, but you still managed to glare at him as you gathered the keys and your purse.

“Just--fuck you.” With that, you walked out of the restaurant, shoulders hunched and shaking, face hot and wet with tears.

You turned the corner towards where you’d parked and sank onto a bench. You cried for a long, long time, your chest an empty shell. More than one person stopped to ask if you were okay--one person stopped to tell you to cry somewhere else--but you ignored them all.

An hour later, you wiped your eyes and made yourself get in the car and drive back to the house. You managed to stop yourself from crying for the drive, focusing wholly on not wrecking or getting lost.

Harrison was lounging on the couch when you got back. Harry and Sam were nowhere to be found, either in a different room or gone for the day. You froze, hoping your face didn’t look like you’d been crying for an hour.

He practically leapt to his feet when he heard the front door shut. “Y/N!” he said cheerfully. “How was lunch?”

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on set?”

He hesitated. “No...I mean, yeah. But I came back for lunch and to, ah, see what...you were...up to…” he said slowly.

“Oh. Where are the twins? They were here when I left.”

“Went out for lunch, I suppose.” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “How was yours? Lunch, I mean.”

��It was…” You swallowed hard. You tried again. “It was--”

“Not good?” Harrison finished sympathetically.

You nodded, and your face crumpled. You sucked in a shuddering breath and tried to stop the tears. “I’m sorry,” you said around the lump in your throat. “I keep doing this to you.”

“No, no, no, it’s alright, love,” Harrison said gently. He strode over to you and gently touched your arm. “I’m sorry.”

“He--he ch-cheated on me,” you managed to get out. You started crying harder.

Harrison cursed softly. Then he was suddenly pulling you close, wrapping his arms around you, gently stroking your hair. “I’m sorry,” he repeated again.

You didn’t cry for nearly as long this time, and you figured it might have something to do with the cute, kind boy holding you. He smelled vaguely like grass and fresh laundry and boy. You gently disentangled yourself and managed a smile.

“I’m sorry I keep bursting into tears on you like that,” you said sheepishly. “I promise I don’t usually cry all the time.”

Harrison smiled. “It’s okay, I know it’s either because of your break-up...or my ugly face.” He winked.

“You’re not ugly,” you said defensively before you could think about the words. You blushed. So did he.

“Well...thanks,” he mumbled. The tips of his ears were bright red. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Got any plans for the rest of the day?”

“No. I thought I’d stay here and just...relax.”

Harrison studied you for a moment with his piercing blue eyes. Then he nodded. “Alright then. Well, I should be getting back to set. Want to...come tomorrow?”

You gave him a genuine smile. “I’d like that. Very much.”

He grinned back at you.

The boys all got back relatively late that night. You’d eaten pizza again and fallen asleep on the couch with a book on your chest.

“--was so cool, I didn’t really know how to react,” one of them was exclaiming. You woke with a start. You managed to catch your book before it hit the floor. Another of the boys cracked a joke and they all laughed.

“Shit, shh shh!” one of them said. It sounded like Tom. “She’s sleeping! Shh!”

They quieted down. They were like children, though, and their “quiet” wasn’t really very quiet. The noise moved into the kitchen where something was dropped. There were muffled curses and laughter.

A smile grew on your face.

You got up quietly and padded down the hall to your room. You didn’t make it far before you bumped into someone. Harrison.

“Sorry,” you both said at the same time.

“Off to bed already?” he asked.

“Mm, yeah. Long day. Plus it’s already--” You checked the time on your phone. “--almost eleven.”

“Are you still...coming to set tomorrow?” You thought that his expression was hopeful but told yourself you were reading too much into it.

“Of course! I can’t pass up the chance to meet a Jonas brother. And Rey.” Your face went blank for a second just thinking about the big stars. “Oh my god--maybe I shouldn’t go. I’ll just embarrass myself.”

“Oh, come on, darling,” Tom’s voice said from behind you. “You’ve already met Spider-Man and haven’t embarrassed yourself.”

You grinned a bit mischievously. “No offense, Tom...but you aren’t as famous as Nick Jonas or Daisy Ridley.”

A chorus of Ooh!s and Oh shit!s came from Tom’s two brothers and best friend. They all cracked up. Tom held up his hands in surrender.

“Ouch, Y/N,” he said. He placed a hand on his heart like you had stabbed him in the chest.

“Here,” Sam said with a laugh as he passed a couple of ice cubes to Tom. “For the burn.”

That set them all off again. “Tom, you just aren’t that famous,” Harry kept repeating, doubled over with laughter. Harrison said, “Sorry, mate,” more than once through his laughter. Tom kept pretending to be wounded, but he was laughing just as hard. You couldn’t help but laugh along until your sides hurt.

Things finally settled down and you bid them all goodnight. As the other three disappeared in various directions, Harrison grabbed your wrist in his hand.

He stared into your eyes for a long moment. You had never seen eyes in such a pale shade of blue before. You thought he was going to say something, like he was sorry about B/F/N or something else, but all he said was a soft, “Goodnight, Y/N,” before he let you go.

You watched him go. “Goodnight, Harrison.”

Tag-list

@beardedsteveslut @smilesfromabove @fandomscombine @yoinkspiderling @twentychemicalpanics @marveltomjunkie @chasingsuperheroes @fairydustparker @theharrisontomytom @moonofmy-life @spidey-spooked @mendes-holland @fat-ass-children @chinalois @lovestrucktosaturn @johnmurphys-sass @txm-h0lland @xkaciesearlex @tessa-herondale-carstairs1 @onceuponateenpanwolfian @bucky-fucking-ruined-me @heartoftheadventure @agirlwithpointlessideas @rhemagirl29 @peterparkyourassonme @secret-jester @smileylaurens @bookworm1613 @perks-of-being-a-labyrinth @curiouspeterparker @aelin-firehearts-court @theres-no-paradise @stressedoutkylo @cubedtriangle @1022bridgetp @meg-915 @butterfliesslugswormsandothershi @once-upon-a-walking-wolf-demigod @onceuponanigh1

#the montreal problem #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield fic #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic

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drivingsideways · 7 years

Note

Could you eleborate on your tags in this post? I really like your metas! If it's not too much trouble! /post/163702439009/do-you-think-flint-enjoys-violence

Hi anon! Well, I’m going to try and keep this short, but it’s about Flint. SO. :D

I think @sidewaystime did a wonderful job of talking about how Flint’s relationship to violence is a complicated thing. What I was responding to was a post series Discourse that seems to be divided at the moment along whether Silver was ‘right’ to do what he did to stop the war or not. A lot of the argument for the “yes” side of that argument seems to rely on painting Flint as someone whose anger was entirely (a) born of reasons personal and (b) completely out of control.

So let’s address (b) first. There are examples where Flint’s rage *is * out of control: Charlestown comes to mind, the Maria Aleyne, post Charlestown murders. In fact, post Charlestown and until the Maroon Island [i.e. until he resolves something within himself with the help of Dream-Miranda] is the closest I see him as being completely batshit insane with rage/sorrow/despair. But as I see it: at no point during this time is he unaware of the consequences of what he is feeling/ doing either to himself or other people. I bring this up because I think there’s a tendency to read Flint as unaware of his own True Motives. Some of this comes from the Miranda/Flint fight in 2.05 What she says (yells!), is that he hasn’t been “clear” about his goals TO OTHER PEOPLE. A corollary to that is that he hasn’t been open about what led him to this goal. And this is absolutely true. Flint discusses his grand plans with exactly two people before that- Gates and Eleanor, both of whom remain unaware of the tragedy that drove Flint to Nassau. Miranda is saying that without communication he is closing every door to achieving his goal except the one that leads to more violence. And this is where she says -paraphrased- [you are fighting for the sake of fighting, because that’s the only state you can function in]. And I think people have taken that and run with it as though it was an Eternal, Unchanging Truth about James. Although the very next thing that happens in the plot is that he listens to her and chooses a less violent path.

And that’s the kind of thing I feel gets missed out: all the times he doesn’t choose a violent option even though it exists. Btw, that is a thing he has done from the first episode. Yes, he kills Singleton brutally, but hey, remember the literal first dialogue that we hear from him in the entire series is him putting a stop to his crew murdering someone? He listens to Eleanor, agrees to a dialogue with Vane in S2. He listens to Miranda about Ashe. Eleanor, again, in S4, in the middle of the freaking war, he allows himself to be taken hostage if it means there may be a chance to win the war without excessive bloodshed, even when that decision is hotly contested by his own people.

This is not a man who is incapable of not choosing violence, it is a man who deploys violence strategically. This is a man capable of swallowing his pride and anger, if he sees a way to achieve his goal without violence. Is the Peaceful Way his first instinct? NO. But is he incapable of taking that path? NO.

Here’s Flint in 3.10 telling his back story to Silver:

Flint: Madness is such a hard thing to define, which makes it such an easy label to affix to one’s enemies. Once it had been applied to Thomas, once our relationship had been exposed, defiled, scandalized… everything ended. There were times that I was persuaded to sue for peace since then, but that was the day that on some level I knew… that England was broken… and that sooner or later a good man must resist it. [emphasis mine]

Ok, let’s back up a bit. Earlier in S3, Flint has a chance to end a war before it even starts, an offer he absolutely refuses. Why does he?

3.07, On the beach with Governor Rogers:

Woodes Rogers: Lord Thomas Hamilton. I didn’t know him, but I understand you did. Miss Guthrie tells me you were part of the first effort with Lord Hamilton and Peter Ashe to introduce the pardon to Nassau. As with most things, the men first into the breach bear the heaviest casualties. But in the hindsight of victory, they were the ones whose sacrifice made it possible. Without Lord Hamilton’s efforts, your efforts, it’s likely I wouldn’t have been successful in my efforts to finally secure the pardon. All I have done here is finish what you began. I am now what you were then. And without you, there would be no me.

Flint: Clever.

Woodes Rogers: Thank you.

Flint: So that’s what this is. We’re all reasonable men, we all want the same thing. You offer me a pardon, I accept it, this all ends?

Woodes Rogers: Maybe. The pardons are on the table. No one is being hanged. No one’s even being tried. They’ve all been forgiven, just as you wanted. Just as Thomas Hamilton wanted. So what is it that you’re fighting for that I’m not already offering?

Flint: Thomas Hamilton fought to introduce the pardons to make a point. To seek to change England. And he was killed for it. His wife and I went to Charles Town to argue for the pardons, to make peace with England, and she was killed for it.England has shown herself to me. Gnarled and gray… and spiteful of anyone who would find happiness under her rule. [emphasis mine]

So here we go: Flint listens to Woodes Rogers’ proposal- which sounds exactly like what they were working toward just a few months ago?? But this time he refuses it. Because he sees right through it, and he recognizes that there is no possibility of reconciliation that does not include absolute surrender to England’s [”civilization’s”] Rules. The Rules that include continued slavery. That include men like him being condemned and ostracized. Woodes Rogers’ proposal sounds exactly like Thomas Hamilton’s- except that the intent was completely different- Thomas wanted to change the status quo and Rogers intends to preserve it.

And you know what? He’s fucking right. Because literally the next fucking thing that happens when Flint refuses, is that Woodes Rogers ceases being “reasonable” and ALSO tries the oldest trick in the book: gaslighting.

Woodes Rogers: “ Then let us be very clear about something. I am reasonable in seeking peace. But if you insist upon making me your villain, I’ll play the part. So let us assume that, as of this moment, the unqualified pardon is no more. From this moment on, any man participating in the act of high seas piracy will be presumed to be one of your men, an enemy of the state. I will hunt him, I will catch him, and I will hang him. And while I am aware of your feelings on the subject, I am no backwater magistrate cowering in fear of you. You know where to find me. [emphasis mine]

Right: because somehow demanding freedom from slavery is “making [you] a villain”.

What I mean to say in the above is that: Flint’s refusal to arrive at a compromise with England is not because he’s “out of control”, it’s because he is clear sighted about how systems of power work. He’s cut through all the bs that is “civilization” as per a colonial power and has found it to be rotten to the core. And that is what he pitches to the Maroon Queen: the absolute truth, not just about England (which she knows already) but also about the consequences. There is no certainty about anything- but trying is better than not.

And now coming back to (a) which is that Flint’s anger is entirely personal. To which my answer is: of course it is. There are people who can devote themselves to larger causes and fight oppressions that they do not themselves experience personally, and I think those kind of people have amazing empathy, and may we all be more like them.

But the sad truth is a large number of us do not wake up to systemic injustice until we experience it personally. And then what? Are we supposed to sit on our hands and say, ok, this anger of mine is really selfish because it has its beginnings in something awful that happened to me, and now that i recognize it doesn’t just happen to me, it happens to a whole lot of people both like and unlike me, but I’m not going to do anything about it-because maybe I’m playing out my own issues?

But (i hear you say), this isn’t just about filing a petition on change.org, it’s literally starting a war.

Ok, first off: I’ve said it before- the war is already on. Slavery is an act of war. Imprisonment of “sexual deviants” is an act of war by the State on the individual (and larger queer community). Flint and Madi were attempting to change the terms of it. And secondly, let’s give rest to the idea that it was Flint alone who wanted a war.

Mr.Scott to Madi:

Mr.Scott: “ I wish you and I had not been so separate all those years.I wish I could have found a way to be a better father to you. But over time, I was determined to leave you something behind, to give you the one thing that no one could ever take away and that would make you strong enough to understand their world, interact with their world, wage war on their world. But if their identity lies in their stories, I wanted you to know them so that when we are ready to call them enemies, you would be ready for it.” [emphasis mine]

This is an absolute recognition of what I was saying before: the war was ongoing. Mr.Scott and the Maroon Queen have spent a lifetime to prepare Madi to respond to the war on their people. In Flint, the Maroons had finally found an ally that could actually help them get somewhere.

And as for Flint, the discovery of the Maroon Island led to another realization: and that was he no longer has to wage war alone. That there is solidarity to be had. And that came at the end of the period where he was at his most self-destructively lonely. And having found himself on relatively stable ground again, he’s able to both articulate the effect and the use of rage/hatred.

Here’s a conversation with Silver, in 3.09 about the punishment meted to Dobbs (over attacking one of the Maroon Crew)

Flint: That’s not why you did it.

Silver: Really? Would you like to tell me why I did it, then?

Flint: Well, I wasn’t there, but, um, I’d hazard the guess that you learned of what had happened, told him how fucking stupid he was, and in that moment, he gave you a look that amounted to something less than contrite. And in that moment, you felt it.

Silver: Felt what?

Flint: Darkness. Hate. Showing indifference to the authority that you sacrificed so much to acquire, disdain for refusing to acknowledge that his actions, had you not intervened, would have led to an outcome that he would have held you responsible for reversing. Pride. Questioning what kind of man you are if you don’t seek retribution for the offense.

Silver: So what are you saying? You saying I went too far with him?

Flint: Maybe you went too far. Maybe you didn’t go far enough. Maybe you did it just right. The point is that while you were doing it, you heard a voice telling you that disciplining him would prevent him from repeating the offense, a voice that sounded like reason, and there was reason to it, as the most compelling lies are comprised almost entirely of the truth. But that’s what it does. Cloaks itself in whatever it must to move you to action. And the more you deny its presence, the more powerful it gets, and the more likely it is to consume you entirely without you ever even knowing it was there. Now, if you and I are to lead these men together, you must learn to know its presence well so that you may use it… Rather than it use you. [emphasis mine]

Silver: You have some experience with this, I imagine, living in fear of such a thing within you?

Flint: Yeah, I do.

Silver: I can’t tell if this was a warning or a welcome.

To repeat: this is not a man who is wandering around in blind, selfish rage that’s indiscriminately targeted and can only be quenched by blood. This is a man who’s been through hell and come out on the other side, and then says “I cannot believe we’re as poorly made as that”. Which makes me want to burst into tears, even as I type this.

OK WOW. I NEED TO STOP. I’m not sure if this is what you wanted to hear, anon. :)

#replies #Anonymous #james flint #this got completely out of control #sorry anon

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davidmann95 · 7 years

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Hey, talk somewhat on Superman's B-list villains? Livewire, Atomic Skull, Silver Banshee, Terra Man, Prankster, and any other low-level but recurring ones. Any ones have potential or cool powers there?

With minor Superman villains, I’ve already touched on Silver Banshee, Prankster, Riot, the Galactic Golem, and J. Wilbur Wolfingham. Delving into some others who maybe don’t have that much name recognition, both B-listers of some degree of note and not-quites who I have some fondness for:

Livewire has always felt like she should be a bigger deal among the Superman villains, but at the same time I get to a certain extent why she hasn’t been. She’s got a great design, and Lori Petty’s voice did as much to define her as Arleen Sorkin did for Harley Quinn, but the more I think about her, the more she runs into problems. She’s not especially meant to be taken seriously - her ‘criticisms’ of Superman are deliberately framed as petty and shallow, to an extent that changing them would essentially rewrite her already pretty well-defined personality. So what you’ve got is a villain who won’t really hurt Superman (given one of his most iconic covers is taking a lightning bolt to the chest with a reply of “It tickles!”, electricity isn’t much of a plausible threat to him) who can still avoid him while causing a ruckus throughout Metropolis, mocking him all the while…and, well, that’s Mxyzptlk. Plus, while Mxy while might bring a vague air of sleaze with him in a way that can leave Superman a touch out of his depth, he’s still deliberately ridiculous, while Leslie Willis is typically much more straightforward and pointed in how she tries to take him down a peg or two in a way that can too easily slide into showing him as stodgy and boring by comparison.

The solution then I think is to bend her away from being a character who has direct confrontations with him all that often. One of her big shticks is that she can manipulate media broadcasts, usually just to make fun of Superman before they throw down. But what if that got pushed further? Make her instead a ghost in the machine riling up idiots on message boards who find the idea of tearing down Superman simply for the sake of it a riot; she could be a one-woman Anonymous, the Bad Media to the Daily Planet’s Good Media, drawing a line under how much of Metropolis hasn’t been hearing Superman’s message at all, needing both to be stopped, and to themselves be saved from far more than a meteor or robot (which would also do a lot to counter the image of Metropolis as a generically perfect city). Ironic, detached cynicism vs. unapologetic sincerity. In short, 4chan vs. Superman, winner take all.

Atomic Skull is, what, an actor with amnesia who thinks he’s a movie villain or something? Meh. I guess there’s something to play with in the idea of his powers as inherently dangerous, evoking Superman’s own fears of losing control, but that seems kinda shallow. I know Superwoman has shown him as somewhat reforming, which seems like a good hook (some of his villains really should), but that’s a whole other angle that hasn’t really been developed yet. The one time I have really liked him was in a set of stories immediately after Electric Superman where each of the four Superman titles briefly told stories set in different eras, with a version of the Skull in the first Golden Age story. A movie star who parlayed his fame as an American Nazi propagandist, he tried to attach himself to Superman’s own increasing public recognition - given he too wore a caped uniform in the serial Curse of the Atomic Skull - claiming they were both examples of the emergence of ubermenschen to reclaim the world. Mesh that with his traditional powerset and contemporary context, and I have an idea of him as some kind of hyper-reactionary, ‘realpolitk’-espousing nihilistic superman of skinheads, alt-righters, and crazed survivalists, who see him as the firey atomic nu-human of an apocalyptic tomorrow. He could even hook up with the Supremacists from Greg Pak and Aaron Kuder’s time on Action Comics for some easy recruits and henchmen.

Subjekt-17; now here’s a guy who I wish had popped up again. Largely forgotten as a consequence of Kurt Busiek’s time on Superman being criminally overlooked, Subjekt-17 was a worst-case scenario: not able to pass for human in the same way as Kal-El, he was taken in by the Soviets as an infant and experimented on his entire life, only to be confronted by Superman when freed and trying to cut a swathe of blood through humanity as payment for his suffering. There was an interesting, painful dynamic in play there - he saw Superman as something like a brother, but in spite of his telepathy couldn’t understand why he would protect the humans who coldly tormented Subjekt his entire life, ultimately seeing Superman as so desperate to assimilate that he would fight an innocent to protect the guilty. I feel like there’s a lot more stories in him, and when it comes to the perennial question of “Are you sure you’re really doing the right thing, Superman?”, I feel like he as a victim of the establishment would have a much more consistent batting average for good stories than yet another edgy new antihero lecturing Superman about the Real Issues.

Magog doesn’t even feel like he should break C-list in the natural order of things, but he was in probably the most widely-read Superman-centric comic ever other than I suppose Death of Superman, so yeah, he counts as notable. The idea presented later on in The Kingdom with Gog as a worshiper of Superman whose shattered faith drove him to madness feels like it has almost a kernel of something interesting at the heart of it, but it feels much more so like a vehicle for semi-talented creators to write dumb comics with him that think of themselves as much more important than they are. A friend did have a decent take on what to do with him narratively though in a way that works with how he’s existed up until now: he’s not a threat himself, he’s not even a consistent or on his own necessarily important figure, but he’s a multiversal constant in that his arrival is always the prelude to a cosmic upheaval or an end of an age of heroes, and specifically catastrophe for Superman. His appearances even back it up: his time in Chuck Austen’s Action Comics was shortly before Infinite Crisis, he came on the scene in the New 52 shortly before Truth and the resulting death of that version of Superman, and now another seemingly new version of him is in Supergirl in the build-up to Doomsday Clock. There’s a lot you can play with there: he doesn’t even have to be the same character twice, but he always emerges to try and take Superman to task on some profound level as a harbinger to a greater doom for the DCU. Maybe over time he could have the same kind of narrative “him showing up means something” cache as Doomsday, but in the sense that seeing him means Superman’s going to have to ask some big questions about himself and what he does as preparation for a larger reckoning for him and his kind, rather than meaning Superman’s gonna have to punch a bone monster again.

I wanna love Terra-Man. He’s a cowboy who was abducted by aliens and got a winged horse to fly around the universe, who calls himself Terra-Man because he a spaceman from Earth! That’s great! But I can’t say the execution has ever much interested me; he’s so over-the-top without ever especially being played as a gag that I just can’t get into it. Luckily though, the solution has already been reached with him: Tom Strong’s Coleman Grey, the Weird Rider, is straight-up Terra-Man, played with the melancholy, cold competency and swagger of a killer out of time, and some fantastic stone-cold badass moments that sell the hell out of him. Just apply that personality to this guy - fearsome but not unreasonable in the right circumstances, out of time but comfortable with his new life even if it means sometimes running up against the Man of Tomorrow - and we have an instant winner; maybe not one of the greats, but not every Superman opponent needs to bring major thematic concerns to the table so long as they can pull their weight in entertaining storytelling opportunities.

And now for a few rapid-fire takes:

Kryptonite Man was one of those characters who just had to exist sooner or later, but there’s really nothing about him that Metallo doesn’t make redundant.

To my knowledge Blackrock has never particularly worked, but I like the idea of him as a reality show hero who gets in Superman’s way sometimes. It doesn’t even need to be that specifically if those trappings are passe at this point; so long as he’s another vigilante opposed to Superman, you can probably pull something out of Blackrock.

Mindlessones convinced me that Nick O’Teen has a place in the background of Superman’s world.

Paragon is a comically awful human being with the powers to back up his inane egotism and cruelty in a way that actually quite worked for me under Kurt Busiek; I think he hits on the same “oh god dammit, this guy” response from Superman that Mxyzptlk elicits, but of a different enough flavor to make him worth keeping around as a separate figure.

And finally, while Tempus would probably lose a lot of his charm if up against a more straight-laced version of Superman, in the context of how silly Lois and Clark got he was my favorite part of that show, and I think he’d work fantastically in any other tongue-in-cheek Silver Age revival treatment of Superman’s world as a way to poke fun at the foundations, hilariously enough so it doesn’t grate but so over-the-top villainously we know we’re not supposed to agree with him.

#Superman #Livewire #Atomic Skull #Kingdom Come #Terra Man #Magog #Subjekt 17 #Kryptonite Man #Blackrock #Nick O'Teen #Paragon #Tempus #Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman #fanfic #Opinion

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mammawolff · 7 years

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i saw your submission to doubleshuck and im incredibly interested in hearing other paranormal stories you have, particularly the wendigos if you'd be willing to share!!

Of course! I have a literal lifetime of paranormal and cryptid stories to share- growing up "gifted" and on a variety of farms certainly helped with this. From average hauntings to not-so average haunting, angry native spirits and more. For now, the thing I never say aloud: Wendigo. Typically an Eastern legend, not usually found out West where I am, until recent reports claim otherwise. When I was younger, my family and I would make multiple trips a year out to the nearby park(Waterton National, for those wondering) in the summer. Family bonding, or whatever. This started from the time I was 5, until I was 11 or so. This particular instance happened when I was 7 or 8, I believe. Again, I have timeline recall problems so though I do my best to remember when things happened specifically, sometimes I may be a little off. Our trips started out the same, every time. Bear's hump to warm up, then down to Cameron falls, lunch at the lake, an hour or so shopping, then the afternoon in red Rock canyon. This time, we had to make a few adjustments to our usual schedule. We made it up Bear's Hump just fine. Because this particular hike is up a straight cliff, the path is entirely switchbacks. Pretty tiring for a young kid(especially the pudgemeister I was) so we took our time, and my siblings reached the top well before myself and my mother did, as usual. We sat and listened to the wind blowing for a while before heading back down. Side note: Now, I have recently seen that the path has changed since the years I've been there. I went a few weeks ago and noticed parts of the paths washed out, and it had to be rebuilt slightly differently. The new path certainly doesn't allow this behavior. On our way down, I noticed that a section of switchbacks would allow a portly kid like myself to run straight down the mountain, and win any potential races he or she may have with their siblings. So, I dared my brothers to a race. "First one down gets the bag of jerky!" I shouted back at them, and immediately flew down off the path. It was damn good elk jerky, okay, from my uncle.Disclaimer: this is stupid. My brothers followed suite quickly, and raced down after me, though I already had a considerable lead. Dread grew, but I pushed it down and focused on not tripping and falling down the damn mountain. As such, I didn't notice what I was approaching at lightning speed until I passed, locked eyes, and threw away all concerns of falling and pumped my chubby little legs harder and faster. You see, I suspect I surprised it as much as it surprised me. It was standing watching the path, waiting for someone to approach close enough to snatch without anyone noticing. It wasn't expecting a rounded ball of a kid to come bouncing down the mountain with the force of a thousand suns- which is why I'm certain I'm alive today. The creature stood probably 15-18 feet tall, though I could be wrong because of a child's perspective, but it stood as tall as the shortest trees around it. Nearly pitch-black, with white-yellow gleaming eyes set in a bulbous skull atop a spindling frame. The arms at its side ended with massive hands, the claws at least 8 inches if not more. I say I startled it because that was the expression it gave me as I passed. The unmistakable confusion paired with an unspoken "the fuck?" Written in its eyes. I do not know if it followed me, but I certainly didn't stop to find out. Thankfully in the small parking lot, there was a larger RV-type truck, with a smaller red pick-up parked "behind" it(in regards to the creature), which hid the pick-up from view of the path. An older gentleman was getting into the pick-up as I hit the pavement, turned, and leaped into the back of his truck. I don't know if this is a common occurrence or if it was the terror bleeding from my every pore, but he didn't question me. Rather he just started the truck and immediately drove off with me in laying flat in the bed. He stopped in front of the rcmp office in the middle of the hamlet, where I thanked him. He asked what I saw, and I shook my head. "A-a bear, I suppose." He nodded solemnly before telling me, "It's best not to name some things, girl. Brings them to you. You saw a bear, and that's what you'll tell the rangers, too." I nodded in agreement before he drove off. And that's exactly what I told the rangers. There was a bear, I got scared, and I hid in someone's truck as he was driving and he didn't notice until I sat up and scared the bajeezes out of him. Mum was pissed, and we ended up leaving the park early because of my "irresponsibility." I asked my brothers if they had seen anything. Two answered a bit too quickly with "No," but B said "A.. bear. Big and scary and on her hind legs to protect her cubs." He told me recently that he knew it wasn't a bear, and he knew I knew. But again, sometimes Rules don't need to be spoken to be understood. My second encounter was when I was 15 or so. I was fairly active in the LDS church, as that's what I had been raised into and what I was to comply with if I wanted a good relationship with my parents. As such, every year we(the women in the church) went camping somewhere, usually included a hike somewhere new and wonderful. Occasionally the men are involved, too, and this was one of those times. Unfortunately I do not remember the name of this hike, as despite the encounter, I would love to go back because I do have some fond memories of friends since passed there. This particular hike was a couple miles long along the side of a mountain/valley, where at the end a beautiful lake formed. A ranger accompanied us with a gun just in case. Everyone got to the lake just fine, we sang our song, and headed back. The faster "pods" of people quickly passed myself and the "slow pod" of friends I was with(I unfortunately did not lose the pudge I was granted in childhood), and the ranger stayed behind with us to make sure we were the last off the mountain. About a mile back to the trucks, our pod was fairly isolated, and a friend quietly said "oh, look! A bear!" And pointed across the valley to the other mountainside, where in a smaller clearing free of trees a bear ran past. He was headed away from us, down the mountainside and towards the lake, so the ranger did nothing but watch. The other kids kept walking a few moments after spotting the bear, as darkness would fall sooner rather than later and nobody wanted to be close to the bear when it did. And besides, we had all seen bears before. But the ranger continued watching, and I thought it strange so I did too. I followed his gaze back to where we first saw the bear, and quietly gasped in horror when a tree detached itself from the edge of the treeline, hunched down to run on all fours after the bear, almost like trying to hide in the openness of the clearing. It had similar characteristics of the creature I saw in Waterton, from what I could tell. Impossibly long, spindled body and limbs, and I could see its claws glisten in the dying sunlight even from the half mile distance between us. I can only assume it didn't see us, or was more interested in the fresh blood of the bear so nearby to it, but as I met eyes with the ranger and he made a "shushing" motion with his finger as he continued down the path. After a few moments he said quietly, no louder than the wind, "There are some things that shouldn't be named out loud. Written down, that's fine. But never spoken." I nodded and said "I've seen bears like that before, sir." And we hurried the group along, reminding them of the ever falling night, and the danger of falling it brings. So, yeah. I never speak of Wendigo, and you will never hear me say their name. Only in writing, and even then I burn sage and dragon's blood to keep me protected. Boy howdy I would sure love to tag this but mobile hates to tag asks! When I get the chance I will edit this with #lupine blogging, #creepy, #long ass post and #cryptids.If you wanna hear more, send an ask! Ask about the reaper in the hallway 😋 the angry native is a good one, too. I also have some experiences to share of my brother's, B. Things happened before I was born, I guess.

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projectrun-away · 7 years

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Warning: Don’t let the pretty face fool you, bitchy rant below :)

So much going on, so little time to take it all in. I think this week has been the hardest. I have been so excited to be here and so in love with being in a larger city. The apartment has been my enemy, and I’ve been dedicating a couple hours every day to making it feel more like home and using those handy Pinterest hacks to make it feel bigger. But is it ok if I complain for a sec? OK, cool.

Mothafucking roaches dude. I found 2 more today and I’m freaking the fuck out. But I have made a purchase on Amazon for a solution, but in the mean time let’s hope the damn management performs the bug spray I requested, and also, eeeeeeeeeek.

It’s small. Think of the last Motel 6 you stayed in. The size of that room is the size of my apartment. But hey, less to clean and that’s been cool.

Construction! It started the 2nd week and will go on for I don’t know how long. They are working on the electrical and plumbing of all the units so there’s men on my patio all day working in what was supposed to be our storage closet. So all our shit is on the patio to make room... they say they’re puting in a washer and dryer which would be AMAZING but they are taking so long, I worry it won’t even be done by the time we leave.

Ok, done bitching about the apartment. Just had to get that out of my system. Overall, I like that we are saving a lot of money by living here and we are actually in a great location, right off Mill Avenue where all the cool kids go to bars and where there’s always good people watching to do.

In my time here I have been able to see my dad and my brother, aunts and uncles, and my new baby nephew, Wynter. I feel so blessed with everything this place has brought me already and I’m at the same time still trying to process how fast it all happened. I think last week was the hardest because my emotions caught up with me after a day of battling cockroaches and treadmills that shock me and my boyfriend coming home late and dinner getting cold. Yep, I snapped. I started crying when we finally sat down for dinner and couldn’t bring myself to talk or eat. It hit me that I haven’t let myself slow down since we arrived and all the little things were starting to make me boil over. No matter how short this stay is and how many blessings it’s given me, it’s been a huge adjustment to come here on B’s behalf, give up my office and lifestyle (I haven’t been a broke bitch like this in forever), rely on a guy to pay my bills and be away from my friends and family in California. The working part time from home has been stressful and I forgot how it takes a toll on me. I’m planning to work on how I handle stress because breaking down over small things has been the worst.

The most recent thing was losing my temper on St. Patrick’s Day when I was sent the wrong address to meet up with B at his co-worker’s place. I drove 15 minutes in 5 o’clock traffic in the wrong direction. I get a call to turn around and so already I’m a little annoyed, but then I get a call asking why I haven’t arrived yet from B. Obviously I was sent in the opposite direction so it’s going to take me another 15 minutes to get there, so ugh. I get to the complex and it’s a maze, I can’t find the apartment number and I’m too mad to call and ask for help cause I’m a stubborn asshole, but after another 15 minutes I go ahead and call and no one is giving me answers that help and I find out this bitch (not B, the co-worker) gave me the wrong apartment number! Seriously, wtf I haven’t met someone this fucking stupid in awhile. So they drive around and B is on the phone telling me that “it’s ok, it’s ok, relax, calm down, stop being rude” so naturally, I lose my shit on him. They find me a few mins later and I’m almost too embarrassed to come upstairs and meet the girls. I go anyway and everyone seems scared of me because I lost my temper on B and they rightfully were giving me a weird look or no look at all. After that was over with we had to talk and I told him not to talk to call me rude in front of other people and we both apologized (I was the bigger asshole, for the record, I know this) and went to dinner. Had a nice weekend, up until he left this morning for SF. No we didn’t fight again I’m just going to miss him because I’m a baby when we are apart. After all this, it’s up to me to control my temper and learn how to handle all these changes. I hope when he gets back we can really settle in, hopefully I will be past all these mixed up feelings and temper tantrums because I don’t know how he puts up with it, let alone still wakes up loving me the way he does.

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operationrainfall · 5 years

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Title Joggernauts Developer Space Mace Publisher Graffiti Games Release Date October 11th, 2018 Genre Platformer, Endless Runner Platform PC, Switch Age Rating E for Everyone – Comic Mischief Official Website

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised I ended up being the guy to review Joggernauts. I’m a self professed platformer fanatic, and I do like simple to learn, hard to master games. My only uncertainty was whether the single player mode for this game could work well in a game obviously catered towards playing with friends. But I decided to take a chance on Joggernauts, though your mileage may vary.

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The premise of Joggernauts is fairly simple. You’re a team of alien athletes who have crash landed on a strange planet. All the prestigious trophies on your ship have scattered, along with three integral parts needed to get the busted ship space worthy again. Your robotic C.O.A.C.H. cares more about getting back his trophies than anything, so it’s your goal to go planet hopping to find them all. Since you’re a team, it follows that you do so as a group. In multiplayer, you can have up to 4 players jog together, though in single player you only control two which turns out to be a good thing, since it’s not the easiest thing to coordinate two athletes simultaneously.

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I should mention that for the review itself, I only played on single player, though I did get the occasion to play with a group of 4 during PAX West. While part of me feels co-op is the way to go, it only works as intended when you’re playing with a group of friends equally talented at platforming. Otherwise, it’s a chaotic mess. But for single player, it’s surprisingly well done. You control a set of 2 athletes at the same time. It’s an endless runner, so you’ll always be moving forward. The only things you have direct control over is jumping and switch-alizing. You jump with your back jogger with the down button, and front with the B button. You can also use up or X if you prefer. But the real challenge is the aforementioned switch-alizing.

Basically, you can teleport between your two joggers at any time with a press of the Y or A buttons. This teleports them to the other jogger’s spot in the line. You might be wondering why that matters, and the simple answer is that everything in Joggernauts is color coordinated. If you come across a blue enemy, you’ll need a blue jogger to wipe it out. Likewise, if your red jogger runs across a red switch, it will be activated. It’s pretty basic at first, but the game keeps complicating the formula with little twists. One example is that you don’t always want to activate a switch, since in later stages doing so may hem you in with laser walls. A cooler example is when you’re using the switch-alizing to essentially float through zero-g environments. But that’s not all, you’ll also need to color coordinate to get some of the trophies in the game. Successfully collecting all the trophies in a stage gives you a chance to race through a bonus segment, and completing it will earn you a star on the map screen.

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Early on, many trophies simply must be touched to acquire them. But later on, some involve collecting colored keys first. If you hit a key with the wrong colored athlete, the rest of the keys in that level will disappear until you die or restart. So it’s very important to coordinate your switch-alizing to the rhythm needed to get everything. That’s both a good and bad thing. The devs themselves refer to this as “like patting your head and rubbing your belly, but you’re jogging,” and that’s pretty damned accurate. It takes some getting used to, since at first, I kept forgetting I needed to jump with my back character. Once you internalize it, it’s not too bad, though I did encounter some small problems. I should say I’m not clear if they stemmed from the game itself or my Switch, but I still need to mention them. There were times where pressing jump for my back character simply didn’t respond. Another stranger issue was that in the stages that take place in the vacuum of space, one character would jump much higher than the other at times. This drove me crazy in one of the last stages, and it was only my sheer stubbornness that kept me going. And while this last issue isn’t a glitch, it was problematic. Put simply, the HD rumble for this game is dialed up way too high. Thankfully, it can easily be turned off by going to the options menu.

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Besides the running, jumping and switching, there are a few other things I need to mention about the game. One is that all your characters share the same health meter. You have 5 hearts, and once they’re all gone, you are forced to restart. If you haven’t reached a checkpoint, you’ll restart at the start of the level, but if you have, you can restart from the checkpoint itself. The catch is that checkpoints need to be activated with colored orbs you collect. Some of the checkpoints require a lot of orbs (the max you can hold on you is 250), but thankfully there’s nothing stopping you from collecting a ton, since you’ll keep all your orbs even after you die. And you’ll die a lot, trust me. But on the positive side, you have unlimited lives, so the only thing truly harmed will be your ego. Besides that, you’ll also come across items in levels to give you an edge. The only ones I encountered in my playthrough were a shield that protected me from one hit and a magnet. The first wasn’t that helpful, but the magnets made collecting orbs much easier on harder stages.

Magnets make orb collecting much easier.

Visually, this is a wonderful game. It has bright and bold colors and a delightful cartoony aesthetic. It reminds me in some ways of a Dr. Seuss book or the style from the show, Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends. It’s full of delightfully exaggerated details, like giant eyeballs, neon colored caterpillars and giant spiderwebs. I never encountered any slowdown either, as the game runs at a pretty brisk clip. The music and sound effects could have come from some 70’s TV show, with lots of intentional kitsch. While none of the songs are that memorable, neither do they distract from the experience.

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There’s a lot I like about Joggernauts, but now I need to mention some larger complaints. Though it’s a fun game, it’s also pretty short, only consisting of 3 worlds with 7 stages a piece. While some stages are gated by a required number of trophies, it’ll still go by pretty quickly. If you were just trying to beat the game and not collect everything, it could take you anywhere from 1-2 hours. However, most platformer fans have that completionist itch, and that’s another story. I was intending to get everything prior to my review, so I set out to collect all of the 42 gold trophies. Turns out, those aren’t the only ones. Once you get them all, C.O.A.C.H. tells you about his missing Glowtonium trophies. I set out to find them, and after searching through various stages, couldn’t find a single one. They’re that well hidden. I’m all for testing my platforming skills, but I found the Glowtonium trophies to be frustrating. Worst of all, collecting all those impossible to find Glowtonium trophies apparently just unlocks a silly ending. I just wish that collecting all the gold trophies instead did something like unlock more planets to explore.

Despite my issues with Joggernauts, I still had fun with it. It’s a short game for $14.99, but it can keep you entertained for 2-5 hours. I managed to beat the game with 55% of everything unlocked, but sadly have little desire to spend hours trying to find those Glowtonium trophies. Still, it’s a colorful and enjoyable experience, and I thoroughly enjoyed the character of C.O.A.C.H. The domineering little robot was the cherry on top of a brightly colored sundae. That said, I don’t think Joggernauts is for everyone, and would only really recommend it to hardcore fans of the genre. For everybody else, there’s probably more frustration than satisfaction to be found here. But I still applaud this effort from Space Mace and Graffiti Games, and look forward to the next game they come up with.

If all else fails, you can modify things to make the game easier.

[easyreview cat1title=”Overall” cat1detail=”” cat1rating=”3″]

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REVIEW: Joggernauts Title Joggernauts

#cooperative #endless runner #Graffiti Games #Joggernauts #oprainfall #PC #platformer #Review #Single-player #Space Mace #Switch

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itsworn · 7 years

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This 1970 Dodge Challenger—And 3 Friends—Saved A Life!

Whether we’re talking about an old girlfriend, a big fish, or a car, everyone has the story of something that they thought was in their grasp and then got away. Typically, these stories don’t result in the thing that escaped later being possessed by the person that lost out on it. In the case of John Howard and this 1970 Challenger, it does and boy is this one a doozy. The best part is that both Howard and the Challenger have served to rescue each other at differing points in their respective lives. Better than any fish story, this is a big-block four-speed tale and instead of some tasty fillets on the grill there’s a machine with looks for days and the ability to fry tires for a fortnight.

The story begins with a chance encounter in 1976. While hanging out and bench racing at a friend’s speed shop, a guy pulled in with a 1970 Challenger he was looking to sell. Always out for a good deal, John Howard and his pal Tim Butler hopped in for a test drive. After some spirited cruising in the car a deal was struck and John would pay $1,200 for the 440-powered, four-speed machine as soon as he could get the money out of the bank the next morning.

The next morning did not bring a new car, however. The next morning brought a phone call informing John that the car had been sold out from under him to another guy. If that was not painful enough, John discovered that about two weeks after the new owner got hold of the car he completely disassembled it with the intention of rebuilding the Challenger from the ground up. As happens so often in the muscle car world the now-disassembled car sat, and sat, and sat. The mass of Challenger parts was kept in a garage for 30 years! Over the course of those 30 years John attempted to buy the car multiple times but the owner refused and the project went nowhere.

“I was thoroughly annoyed when the guy sold the car after I committed to it,” John said. “Back then we did not have an ATM and I probably had $50 in my pocket. It was even worse when I found out that the guy drove it for about a month before he took the whole thing apart. The one good thing is that if I had gotten the car in 1976 I would have turned it into a race car and it certainly would not be as nice as it is today.”

Finally in 2005, there was a breakthrough. The Mopar “collector” was informed by his then wife that he had two choices: Sell all the Mopar stuff or sign the divorce papers. After off-loading the entire collection to a friend of John’s, the coast was now clear for him to score the Challenger that had been eluding him for two decades to that point. By the time all the stuff gets back to John’s home, it is 2006 and it is officially 30 years since the Challenger has been a whole, running and driving car.

“I knew the guy who bought all the stuff,” John said. “When he called me and I went over there to look at everything, the guy went into his sales pitch. I told him just to show me the car and all the stuff that went with it. This was probably the easiest sales job he ever had.”

The first step in the process was to take stock of what they had and bag/document it all. From that point forward the plan was simple. Rebuild the car! The stripped body, which had been well-kept in a garage for decades was sent to the body shop after John’s son Colby had the fine duty of torching and scraping the undercoating off of the car.

While at the body shop the car had the little rust that was on it repaired and it was shot with color. The first shop was working with what they thought was a pretty good surface, so they turned the job around reasonably quick. After a few months back at John’s garage rust began to bubble through the paint and things quickly got worse from there. As it turns out, the first shop was a little too trusting of a 30-year-old body and did not prep the surface as well as they should have.

The result was the car heading to another shop to be completely stripped bare and painted again. John is nothing if not persistent, and while this car was fighting him hard in this part of the process, he was in for a much larger fight shortly. After taking the car home from the paint shop the second time, John was gung-ho to finish the job. He attacked assembly immediately, installing the suspension, rear axle, and the engine/trans from below the car to avoid scratching his awesome new Top Banana paint job. In went the dash and the steering column along with the wiring to get the car fired up. Unfortunately, there was a problem.

No, not with the car. That was going fine. With John. He had been diagnosed with Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia and was undergoing chemotherapy to battle the cancer. With the chemo came the fatigue and strain that those rough treatments bring. Through all that he trooped on, making slow progress until his body decided to fight him again. This time the news was more ominous: his cancer had undergone something called Richter’s Transformation where it was no longer the leukemia but now Large B-Cell Lymphoma—a cancer that is known to spread aggressively and is very hard to treat.

“I went from having a fairly moderate type of cancer to having one of the most aggressive forms that can actually kill you pretty quickly,” John said. “When that started we all kind of knew what would be ahead and it was a tough road. I did my best to do what I could but eventually I didn’t have the strength to do the work.”

This is where John’s will to live took over. Despite the sickness and the tough treatments, he was adamant that he would get the car done by the time the Mopar Nationals rolled around. He dreamed about the day he would drive his car onto the grounds at Columbus and show it off. He dreamed about a day that he knew might not ever come and he did that to keep himself positive and motivated. Reality set in very quickly for John. He was not going to be physically able to do this job himself. The aggressive treatments left him too weak and too preoccupied with his health to continue on. This is where things get awesome.

John’s friends heard of his plight and jumped into action. Terry Moyer, Mike Salter, and Matt Roops were the three point men and they took it upon themselves to finish the car for John when he was not physically able to do it. It was a classic mad gearhead thrash to get the Challenger done in time, but they did, and John was supposed to ride to the show with Terry.

“I was really sick there for a while and when these guys jumped in I was really thankful,” John said. “They did most of the interior work, got the bumpers on, and did the finish things that I could not do. My job was simply to get them the parts. They are all great friends.”

There was another catch. John had to spend more time than he expected at the cancer center to get stem cells harvested for a transplant and he could not ride down. Mustering his strength, he flew down at the last minute, making the show in time to experience the thrill of piloting this Top Banana Challenger R/T in front of the assembled throngs of Mopar lovers.

The cherry on top of this awesomeness was the fact that after about an hour inside the show, John was approached by the people at Mopar and asked to bring his car to their tent to display. If there is a higher honor at the Mopar Nationals we’re not entirely sure what that is.

The feel-good part of the story is handled by John’s friends and how they took care of him in his time of need, but the look-good and drive-good portions of the story come from the decisions made when putting this car back together. One of the themes to this car that we see is subtlety. The engine looks like a factory stocker, but it is 500ci. “I was not going to stroke the engine at first but we decided to go that route,” John said. “I was actually going to go more aggressive with the engine than we did but I am happy how it turned out. This is a real V-code car but the original engine was blown up back in the early 1970s. It is not the original block in the car.”

The wheels look like factory Rallye examples but they are a 17-inch diameter. The paint looks OEM quality but it is relatively fresh and it is very beautiful. This is a car that takes a great thing in the form of the 1970 Challenger R/T and makes it just a little bit better in a lot of places, allowing the overall package to frequently stand out from the rest on the streets or in car shows.

“I really love driving the car,” John said. “It has great power, it drives well, and the paint gets plenty of looks as you cruise down the road. We have done well with it as shows, too.”

In many ways the story of John and his Challenger are the ultimate in perseverance and love. Not just the love of the car but the love between buddies who saw a friend in need and stepped up to help him live a dream when time was tight. It may have taken John Howard 30 years to complete his dream Challenger, but we know that every step along the way was worth it. The one that didn’t get away won’t be leaving his hands any time soon.

Top Banana is an interesting color. It is not for the faint of heart, but it looks great. The black hood and tail stripe help to balance out the yellow paint. You’ll never lose this one in a parking lot.

It is amazing to think about how this car was stripped and sat in a barn for 30 years as a pile of parts. It took some time, patience, and perseverance, but John has one of the nicest E-Bodies we have seen in some time.

Bucket seats, a pistol grip, and a woodgrain steering wheel are three things that every Mopar fan sees in their sweet dreams. This car is cool and the fact that John kept the interior largely stock means that drivers and passengers get the authentic 1970s experience.

Just shy of 500ci, this stroker RB engine has more than enough power to roast those rear tires off for lengths you could measure from space. A wolf in stock-appearing clothing, this car is a rocket ship.

While some thing it is sacrilege to tweak iconic designs like the Mopar Rallye wheel, we think John’s Challenger looks even better with the 17-inch Year One versions. A touch of modern class is always cool.

For any gearhead who grew up near the water, you know the sheer coolness of cruising the beach at night. This Challenger was certainly a bruiser when it was new, but when you take the freshened looks and combine them with the big motor, you have a true street king!

FAST FACTS

1970 Dodge Challenger R/T | John Howard – Sarasota, Florida

ENGINE Type: 498ci Chrysler RB big-block Bore x stroke: 4.380 x 4.150 Block: 1970 factory Chrysler Rotating assembly: 440 Source stroker crankshaft, 440 Source Platinum Series pistons, 440 Source Platinum series 6.760-inch connecting rods, Total Seal piston rings, balanced by Bad Iron Machine Shop; Bradenton, Florida Cylinder heads: Chrysler 906 iron cylinder heads, 10.67:1 compression Camshaft: COMP Cams Valvetrain: Cloyes timing chain, factory valves, COMP valve springs, pushrods, and rocker arms Induction: Edelbrock Six Pack style intake manifold, three Holley 2bbl carbs on top of intake Fuel system: factory-style mechanical pump Exhaust: TTI long-tube headers, Magnaflow mufflers, custom bent pipe Ignition: Mopar Performance Orange box Oiling system: Hemi 6-quart style pan, factory mechanical wet-sump oil pump Cooling: factory-style cooling system with mechanical fan and water pump Output: unknown Engine built by: Diamond Racing Engines; Sarasota Florida Best ET: has not been raced yet

DRIVETRAIN Transmission: 1970 A833 four-speed manual transmission, McLeod clutch Driveshaft: Mopar Performance Rearend: Super Track Pack Dana 60 with 4.10 gears

CHASSIS Front suspension: stock front suspension with factory swaybar and Koni shocks Rear suspension: stock-style leaf spring rear suspension with Koni shocks Steering: factory OEM steering Brakes: factory OE Bendix brakes Chassis: OE torque boxes are still in the car

PAINT & INTERIOR Color: Top Banana Yellow Painter: B&B Auto Body Sarasota, Florida; Bob Bennett Interior: factory-style interior with Ultimate Ride dash upgrade and woodgrain wheel from WoodGrainWheels.com

WHEELS & TIRES Wheels: Year One Ralley; 17×8 Year One (front), 17×9 (rear) Tires: BFGoodrich 245/45R17 (front), 275/40R17 (rear)

Special thanks: John wants to extend a huge personal thanks to Terry Moyer, Mike Salter, Matt Koops, Steve Mason, and Mike Amo for their help in getting the car done. That’s one awesome group of friends.

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