#we've now hit the point where some of the art feels Too Old and i half want to fix it but this took forever so that's unlikely
Note
New lore was dropped by Iizuka at a fan Q+A apparently. Interestingly, it's been revealed that Eggman is below the age of 50, that he never personally knew Gerald and Maria, his father was one of Gerald's two sons and that he is younger than Maria.
I find all of this fascinating.
You scared me LMFAO my heart stopped and blood ran cold for a sec but before I could go through all the stages of grief I was like hold on lemme see that source and found that isn't the case phew. If it was final that he was so young in his 40s I'd be devastated lol. Not just because I wouldn't want to believe it but also all the evidence suggests otherwise.
They considered putting him at 60 in the Sonic CD concept art, he's referred to as old and middle-aged, uses the Washi pronoun in JP, is associated with the Respect for the Aged Day in Japan where senior citizens are apparently 65+. Most recently we have the Egg Memo where Eggman specifies that he "never really knew" Maria, so he had to exist for at least some time when she was alive to feel the need to specify that.
Also, while a bit more speculative, it'd make sense if part of the reason he was so upset about how Gerald's plan to destroy the planet would've resulted in his death too is because he existed at the time even if he was very young, and Gerald would've known he had a grandson despite not meeting him and didn't consider or care for it to stop him. And that hit hard with him being his grandfather and idol he admired so much. I feel it'd kinda water down the impact and weight of it if it was like "He didn't consider that he could've potentially killed his grandson, even though I didn't exist yet." :P
But yeah it wouldn't make sense for him to be so young in his 40s, there's way too much emphasis on him being old and that would be way too young for it. Plus with the memo being solid canon on top of all the hints, it still doesn't make sense if you disregard the rest of the logic. So I was like no this can't be!!!
Then I saw the source to see that Iizuka apparently didn't actually say Eggman "yes, Eggman is 100% under 50" and I'm so relieved lol.
I just wanna break it down so I have something to link to people if this ever comes up in the future:
It was specifically the OP saying Eggman was literally "under 50", as if it was said to be 100% certain and confirmed final fact
But when they quote Iizuka directly, it turns out he apparently said: "His age hasn't been disclosed but he's probably under 50."
I knew they weren't gonna suddenly reveal his solid age now after all his time of it being unknown in all his bios, only heavily hinted at and implied with the examples listed above. If they're finally gonna go all out and finalize a specific age, it's definitely not gonna be at a Q&A.
Iizuka still saying it "is not disclosed" and the use of "probably" doesn't count as confirmation at all. He's just basing an estimate on the logic that if he didn't know Maria and Gerald then he might not have existed at the same time as them at all but all the evidence seems to show otherwise. Either way, it still "is not disclosed." So it's all just probable estimates.
So yeah at first my heart was like *glass shatter sfx* 💔 then I read the actual thread and I was like oh wait nevermind lol ❤️🩹 Here's the link to it btw
--------------------
Anyway now that we've got that out of the way, let's talk about the other stuff.
It was always obvious that Eggman never knew Gerald personally. He never speaks of direct anecdotes or personal experiences. Hell, he doesn't even know about the ARK before SA2. So of course the same goes for Maria, that was clear before it was confirmed in the Egg Memo.
As for Maria being older than Eggman, I never decided on whether I thought so or not because there wasn't ever anything to actually suggest it. But sure, that can make sense. She can be older than him without it meaning that he didn't exist at any point while she was still alive.
But I'm still definitely under the impression that he did exist for at least some time when she was alive, even if he was very young. He had to be. He specifically emphasizes that he "never really knew" Maria in the Egg Memo. Why would he need to if he never even existed when she was alive? It would've been obvious.
So I feel it implies he didn't *really* know her because while he was alive at the same time even if just a little, he didn't meet her in person and only learned of her through how others talked of her.
Then him mentioning that she was "gone" immediately after is just him then jumping to the part after her death, where he started learning about her more because she became the big subject after her tragic death and then of course he became jealous.
This also adds up with Iizuka saying Eggman didn't learn all this information about Maria until after her death
Here's what I'm thinking. He existed the same time as her even if he was very young but he didn't meet her obviously because she was on the ARK all her life wondering what it was like on Earth and Eggman didn't even know about the ARK until SA2. Then she became the hot topic after her tragic death so Eggman got so somewhat "know" her through their word but still didn't "really" know her because they didn't literally meet. Makes sense!
And lastly, if it's true that he said Eggman's father is Gerald's son then I'm so happy about that, since it's always been my headcanon that he was the paternal grandfather! :D
So yeah this was really just Iizuka saying what me and others have been saying already as far as him not knowing Gerald and Maria personally. Then also him making an unconfirmed non solid estimate of his age with the "probably" but the games and Sonic Channel suggests he has to be 50 AT LEAST. Seems to be over it actually, since he had to be alive some time before the ARK raid/the same time as Maria, even if just for a little while.
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Maknae Line Sipping Things, Pt. 1
Maybe it's tea but more likely it's gonna hit and make us dizzy, knowing these guys. Because it's always something with them, isn't it?
WAIT BEFORE I GO ANY FURTHER PLEASE TO READ THE DISCLAIMER
ARMY is many things to "our boys" - who, by the way, have not been "boys" for nearly a decade, now. Can we just normalize letting grown ass men be, IDK, GROWN ASS MEN?
They DO LOVE US. More than we realize. We are their validation. We are their audience, their personal search engine, their friends in a weird kind of two-sided parasocial relationship (which I guess makes it nearly a social relationship). But we are also their paychecks.
BTS is at a point where none of them need to work. Ever. They could fuck off to Bora Borahae (don't get me started) and spend lavishly for the rest of their days and still leave an enormous inheritance to their pets. They're fine, financially, in a way that most of us will never be. It's a heady experience, I'm told, having fuck-you money, and they have that. And yet they continue to work.
They continue to move their lives within a very tight, very enclosed but entirely too visible bubble. They always will, because their level of fame is that, now. Their lives don't really belong to them - they belong to us. Which is a heavy and often uncomfortable reality for them.
So that's my angle going into the whole What The Fuck Is Up With The Maknae Line thing. They are in an unhealthy relationship - with ARMY - and it's changed who they are to each other, over time.
To be fair it's not ARMY's fault, either. If we must lay blame somewhere throw it on the idol system, maybe. They were assigned their roles in the beginning and SO WAS ARMY. It goes both ways.
The hyungs handle it better, overall. They were a few very crucial years older. They were given more responsibility and less, I think, insecurity.
Don't get me started on neurodivergency. Or gayness. I'LL PONTIFICATE, IT WILL TURN INTO A DAMN FILIBUSTER, LET'S JUST NOT OKAY.
"But we LOVE THEM," I hear you cry. How can our love be unhealthy?
Oh let me count the ways.
I LOVE a good fansite photographer. And Black & White is the best of the best - supportive, great shots, excellent with boundaries. See that? Jungkook recognized and was not upset to see them - because he sees them. A LOT. Here's Jimin taking notice:
He ain't mad. But cameras are as normal to BTS as breathing. Kinda like stylists. They get so used to having them there they don't quite seem real without them. To us, certainly, but maybe also to themselves.
And as we've been let in to (almost) every facet of their lives we've become a little entitled. We think we know them - and in many ways we do. We see them cry, laugh, snort, fart, snore, sneeze and cough. We've even managed to be privy to inconvenient wood and bathtub photos - usually dressed, but Namjoon is not here today.
"They're so relatable", we sigh. "How are they even real," we swoon. And yet we know they are, because we see them like this:
Little derpcakes, all of 'em.
And we go "must protect!"
We protecc, we attacc, we give a boy a snacc, we make up memes about it and feel a little superior to all those fans who don't protect their idols - as well we should, we're the bomb. THE BANGTAN BOMB BITCHES.
And in so doing we have "protected" the maknae line right into eternal teenhood.
I've done it myself. Ask me how old Park Jimin is and I am as likely as not to tell you he's 24. (He's about to turn 27 international. At the end of the year he turns 29, Korean age.)
Again, much of this is marketing and is done deliberately because teen girls spend money. They also write fanfiction, draw and paint fan art, and attend concerts. And some of the fics are amazing, most are porn-adjacent or straight (gayyyy) erotica. Ditto a chunk of the art. But keep in mind that minors produce and consume all manner of media. A Minors DNI warning might as well be a neon sign.
And fiction and depiction are SAFE ways for ARMY to explore their own and other sexualities. Put a pretty boy naked in a high school locker room with a tattooed, musclebound alpha quarterback and the metaphorical or literal jizz flings itself into the stratosphere. BUT LORD HELP A GROWN ASS ADULT MAN THAT ACTUALLY GETS A GIRLFRIEND.
Or boyfriend.
Stay tuned for the rest of this mess, probably.
#parasocial relationships#maknae line#army#bts army#jimin#jungkook#taehyung#just out here on my bullshit don't mind me
142 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wrath: Friday January 20th 2023
Was in the middle of working on a mini animation and our last nib broke and we move in a little over a week now provided the weather is good. Kind of late to order more so now we won't be able to draw for two weeks unless we desperately pull out our old tablet and learn to redraw on that thing.
I'm sobbing dying inside because we finally got off block and got our creativity back after nearly an entire year it feels like. Like we really got back into it.
I never really realized how much of a coping mechanism art was until we fell out of after healing from a lot of our trauma and now are dividing back into it since we're we're staying in the town that legitimately gave us all our worst traumas. And then of course the creativity came back.
Does make me wonder if we ever get comfortable enough if we'll ever even somewhat give drawing up. I say somewhat because we do want to try architecture but at the same time I have a feeling there a couple people down south that may very well resurface a lot of trauma for us. Which, while we don't exactly want and definitely try to avoid, it's good for our art.
So maybe our trauma isn't all bad.
But I've also come to this realization that a lot of artists really hate their art and their art style. Which is odd to us because we've been in that same boat but not to such severity. If we make a mistake we hate specifically that mistake but let it be to learn from it in the future. I think the early gentle parenting growing up that our dad gave us before foster care shattered us helped shape our confidence early on. So we don't struggle quite as much. We rarely compare our art to others and when we do it's more of an obsession over their art that we try to even semi copy that art style or implement it into our own.
Perhaps the worst hate we put on our art is when something just isn't working perspective wise or the lineart isn't working. I suppose we have worked to be perfect but perfect to us. Which was almost always good enough.
The way the whole class would stand over our shoulder in amazement and watch us draw gave us a confidence too. It made us feel good and adored. Considering we didn't get a ton of attention growing up.
It became less and less impressive to people as we got older but there are still some people that absolutely go wild for our art. We've finally found a comfortable community that loves it! The furry community has been very kind to our art.
I think our problem for so long was trying to draw furry art in front of people that decided dogs having head hair must mean that's a horse despite the different nose and sharp teeth. That was annoying. Completely different face shapes. We drew animals in front of people that preferred human art.
Which, while we still enjoy doing sometimes, we are still heavily learning and even come to learn more how much happier furry art brings us. So.. we'll stick with what we love most, what we're good at whether people like it or don't. And eventually we'll find our crowd.
I'm just glad we don't have a huge lack of confidence in our skill of art. We can look back at the oldest shit and wonder how people thought that was good. And it makes us realize that we have come a very very long way. We're proud of ourselves. Really.
Next we're going to attempt to work on more perspectives. Like this piece I'm so damn proud of. Our first drawing where we're really trying a different perspective.
No actually, that's the second one. Now that I think of it, this is our first. Unfortunately so many people want to call it inappropriate though and it never hit off. Like I'm sorry that people legit have asses? I'm sorry for drawing it right? She fell that's the whole point of this piece was just to get a literal difference in perspective. It's not like I'm exposing her or giving you a full on ass shot in the face. My god. And that was before a signature change as you can see
Anyway. We've come a very long way since then and I'm just happy with all of it. Satisfied that we can do so well.
I guess I do sometimes wish our art style wasn't so set as it is because there are definitely artists that have art styles we're jealous of. But to be fair, if we all had the same style... I think art would get pretty boring. So.. I'm glad I have a recognized art style of my own.
It does change depending on the headmate but not always. I'm not arguing with that. Hell most of our headmates can't draw at all! I'm glad to be one that can.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tokyo Revengers was so fun back then. I loved reading and I remember I couldn't put a page down to the point I actively tried to stop myself from finishing to quickly and forced myself breaks. Hit after hit arc after arc it was so good so masterful I legit thought this manga was so masterpiece of storytelling. I loved the art, the story and the MC growth was beautiful the quotes, dialogue and him advancing and then... shit happened. The art quality noticeably went down, the story went adrift characters I expected to be important and thought they were a red herring just never showed up missing plot points are just never discussed and so many theories i use to browse on tumblr and reddit just gave me high expectations and then the ending was like the author woked up and didn't give a shit no more.
I knew it went downhill when it was revelaed this story was gonna fucking end in 5 chapters. How? How was that going to work how will you clean up everything in such a short time and deliver and did he? He didn't unfortunately.
Why? He could have done better but this middle school fan fiction fantasy is what he gave us. This is the one story I found myself actively hating the ending nobody talks about it too it's like we collectively read this and now this manga is now put on the backburner of our minds that this story to some is a joke. When this manga was so fantastical and beautiful that it made me so sad such a good story that the climax and ending could never match.
I guess I can't be to mad. Imagine being the author of a popular manga series like Tokyo Revengers at the end we're human and knowing Japan and their worklife especially manga artists must be hell tbh. I don't blame the poor dude.
Tokyo Revengers is something I'd still recommend only because I want people to also experience the writing and art of this manga and the work the author put into it. I don't want people to turn or think the story useless or a joke because of how garbage the ending was because the story from beginning to about halfway through was the most engaging i've ever been as a manga reader and I find it insulting to see some discard that.
Takemichi, man, you were one of a kind. I never thought as a reader he'd end up with the female lead. It was clear you didn't even like Hina in that way; it always seemed like you were saving her more for your own reasons, especially since you didn't have much else going on. Her falling for his time-traveling self rather than the 14-year-old Takemichi was evident, and you could see her losing that starstruck admiration over his future self over time. So, seeing them get together was pretty heartbreaking because I thought Hina would move on. And Mikey? He still looks sad, haha.
Seeing all the characters and their careers play out felt like a moment from fanfiction, to be honest. Like it doesn't feel genuine or real! All these characters in a single room and we've got no clue how that worked out lol? It remind me of so much AO3 where Takemichi goes back in time and saves everyone.
This is one story where I actually wanted the main character to die or have something equivalent happen. Throughout the series, we learn that time travel has consequences, and having a sacrifice like the MC's death would have made this story make sense.
1 note
·
View note
Photo
this was a project i did like... a full year ago and just completely forget to post
so here, a self-indulgent Lupin Hanafuda Deck from when i realized that despite all the weird cool hanafuda decks out there nobody’s ever made one for lupin? which seems like a crime
#lupin#lupin iii#jigen#goemon#fujiko#zenigata#arsene lupin iii#jigen daisuke#fujiko mine#goemon ishikawa xiii#hanafuda#we've now hit the point where some of the art feels Too Old and i half want to fix it but this took forever so that's unlikely#if i'd been smart i would have made these in Printable Dimensions then i could have actually played with them#c'est la vie#trying to stick to only classic hanafuda colours was a really fun challenge#i also made sure that if you do any of the Big Combos (for koi koi at least) you don't double up characters#so boar-deer-butterfly and the sake-viewings are character commbos that pleased me#my art
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
#47: Kassandra [Assassin's Creed: Odyssey]
(Art Credit: Sabin Lalancette)
---
This one comes to us as an anonymous request. I was given a choice between this character and Gideon Nav (whom I might still do, I'll put it on the back burner). While Assassin's Creed: Odyssey is not my favourite instalment of the series, I have to admit Kassandra, the Eagle-Bearing Mercenary is a pretty amazing character. I have a feeling I would be able to make each protagonist of Assassin's Creed into a unique build. Would you like to see it? Let me know!
Next Time: When Hope is gone... undo this Lock... and send me forth... on a moonlit Walk. Release Restraint Level: Z E R O
Grab some wine, polish your trusty spear, and let's see what we need to roam the Greek islands as the invincible mercenary:
Lean Mean War Machine: Kassandra is a mercenary, climbing up the sell-sword ranks and being the single driving force able to decide the outcome of the Peloponnesian War.
Bird's Eye View: Kassandra is arguably the first user of the Eagle Vision; in her case that sixth sense is pretty literal, as she's able to project her sight onto her pet eagle, Ikaros.
Ancient Bloodline: (SPOILERS) Through her father, Pythagoras, Kassandra has an unusually high concentration of the Isu DNA, essentially making her a living demigod and giving her access to some supernatural powers.
---
I feel like I've been using this particular race way too often, especially when building gods, but tell me a better option for a demigod than an aasimar. Using the rules reprinted in Mordenkainen's Monsters of the Multiverse, we get a +2 and a +1 to two abilities of our choice (Strength and Constitution respectively), resistance to both necrotic and radiant damage, 60 feet of Darkvision, ability to use the Light cantrip, the ability to speak Common and another language of our choice, and the Healing Hands feature; once per long rest we can use our action to heal a creature by [a number of d4s equal to our proficiency bonus] Hit Points.
We're lucky when it comes to backgrounds, too, as Kassandra is quite literally a Mercenary Veteran. We gain proficiency in Athletics and Persuasion to better haggle for our rewards, proficiency with one type of gaming set and land vehicles, and we get the Mercenary Life feature; we are able to identify particularly renowned mercenaries and their adventuring companies, as well as get a feel of where the best place to drink and ask for a job could be.
ABILITY SCORES
We'll start this off traditionally, by putting Strength first in priority order. Dexterity will be next, we are no stranger to armour and can easily climb and swim in it. Follow that up with Constitution... I mean, just look at Kassandra; she is RIPPED.
Charisma will be next, because that Hellenic hottie has got it going on (I'll stop now). Wisdom is a little on the lower end, and we're gonna dump Intelligence; we've all seen Kassandra getting absolutely bored and defeated by Sokrates.
CLASS
Level 1 - Fighter: We're starting by getting some good old-fashioned combat capabilities. Fighters get d10 as their Hit Dice, [10 + our Constitution modifier] initial Hit Points, proficiencies with light armour, medium armour, heavy armour, shields, simple weapons, and martial weapons. The game offers a lot of different armour and weapon types, so you can get pretty much anything; I'm gonna go with a half-plate armour, a shortsword, a spear, a bow, and no shield. Our saving throws are Strength and Constitution, and we get to pick two class skills from the list (Animal Handling and Survival).
Fighters get to choose their Fighting Style first. Since Kassandra's proficient in ranged, melee, and stealthy combat, we once again have multiple choice here. However, since Kassandra is able to move and swim so easily in full armour, we're gonna pick the Mariner style; if we're not wearing heavy armour or a shield, our climbing and swimming speed equals our ground speed, and we get a +1 to our AC.
We also get Second Wind. Once per short or long rest, we can use our bonus action to regain [1d10 + our Fighter level] Hit Points.
Level 2 - Fighter: With Action Surge, we're granted one additional Action during our turn in combat. We can do this once per a short or long rest.
Level 3 - Fighter: At this level, we get a racial ability called Celestial Revelation. Once per long rest, as a bonus action, we can unleash our divine heritage and transform for up to 1 minute. For our Revelation, we're gonna pick Radiant Consumption: celestial light pours from our eyes and mouth. We shed bright light in a 10-foot radius (and dim light in another 10) and at the end of each of our turns, each creature within 10 feet of us suffers [our proficiency bonus] radiant damage. Until the transformation ends, during each of our turns, we can also deal the same amount of radiant damage to one weapon or spell attack.
We also get to pick our subclass; our Martial Archetype. Kassandra is a born Spartan, and eventually the most successful mercenary, so we're going with the Battle Master archetype. As a Student of War, we gain proficiency with one type of artisan's tools of our choice (perhaps Woodcarver's, to help us craft our own arrows). We also exhibit Combat Superiority, which takes for of a pool of Superiority Dice (starting with four d8s) we can use to fuel our Battle Master abilities.
Battle Masters manipulate the battlefield through the use of Manoeuvres. We start with three manoeuvres from the available list:
Evasive Footwork: When we move, we can spend one Superiority Die and add the result to our AC until we stop moving, potentially saving us from attacks of opportunity.
Lunging Attack: When we make a melee weapon attack, we can spend one Superiority Die to increase our reach by 5 feet. If we hit the target, we add the SD result to our damage roll.
Pushing Attack: When we make a weapon attack, we can spend one Superiority Die to attempt to push a creature away. We add the SD result to our damage roll, and if the target is Large or smaller, it must make a Strength saving throw or be pushed up to 15 feet away from us. Now, while a leg doesn't necessary count as a weapon, I feel we can all allow the push itself to be flavoured as
Level 4 - Fighter: Time for our first Ability Score Improvement. Let's put one point into Strength and one into Wisdom.
Level 5 - Fighter: We get Extra Attack. During our turn in combat, we can now attack twice instead of once in a single Attack action.
Level 6 - Fighter: Another ASI. This time, we're putting two points into Wisdom, as we're preparing to multiclass into...
Level 7 - Ranger: We got a solid combat base, now time to become one with the land. Multiclassing into Ranger gives us some proficiencies that we already have but also lets us pick one class skill; let's grab Perception. Instead of the initial Ranger feat (Favoured Enemy), we're gonna grab the version from Tasha's Cauldron of Everything, called Favoured Foe: whenever we hit a creature with an attack roll, we can mark that enemy as our favourite target for 1 minute or until we lose concentration. The first time on each subsequent turn that we hit our favourite target, we can increase damage dealt to it by 1d4 (it increases as we level up). We can use this feature a number of times equal to our proficiency bonus, and we regain all uses after a long rest.
We're also gonna use Tasha's optional feature, Deft Explorer, to replace the original one. We start with the Canny benefit: we gain two languages of our choice, and we can choose one skill we're proficient in and double our proficiency bonus when using it. Let's pick Perception.
Level 8 - Ranger: We get to pick another Fighting Style. This time, however, we can focus on our bow skills and pick the Archery style; our ranged weapons get a +2 bonus to their attack rolls.
Rangers also get Spellcasting, and that is a good explanation for all the supernatural abilities granted to Kassandra by the Spear of Leonidas. Wisdom is our casting ability, and we don't know any cantrips or rituals. Rangers know a fixed amount of spells, and we start with two 1st-level ones: Absorb Elements and Searing Smite.
Level 9 - Ranger: With Primeval Awareness, we can use our action (and spend one spell slot) to meditate and gain layout of the land. For 1 minute per spell slot level, we can sense the presence of the following creature types within 1 mile radius: aberrations, celestials, dragons, elementals, fey, fiends, and undead. We don't learn the creatures' exact location or number.
At this level, we also get to pick our second subclass; our Ranger Archetype. We can finally get our Ikaros by picking the Beast Master archetype. The Ranger's Companion feature lets us choose a beast companion that is no larger than Medium and has a challenge rating of 1/4 or lower. Luckily for us, an eagle meets those conditions. The beast is loyal to us, has its own initiative, can be ordered to Attack, Dash, Disengage, or Hide; basically, it has all the properties of a familiar, except for the ability that lets us see and hear through its senses.
We also get another 1st-level spell (Fog Cloud).
Level 10 - Ranger: Halfway through the build, and we get another ASI. Let's bump up our Constitution by two points for some better Hit Points.
Level 11 - Fighter: Jumping back for some more combat improvement, we get our Battle Master upgrade. First of all, we gain another Superiority Die (for the total of four). We also get to Know Your Enemy. If we spend at least 1 minute observing or interacting with another creature outside of combat, we can learn certain information about it. We know if the creature is our equal, superior, or inferior in regard to two of the following characteristics:
Strength score
Dexterity score
Constitution score
Armour Class
Current Hit Points
Total Class Levels (if any)
Total Fighter Levels (if any)
Additionally, we learn two more manoeuvres:
Parry: When we get damaged by a melee attack, we can use our reaction and spend one Superiority Die to reduce the damage by [SD result + our Dexterity modifier].
Riposte: When a creature misses us with an attack, we can use our reaction and spend one Superiority Die to make a melee weapon attack against our attacker; on a successful hit, we add the SD result to our damage roll.
Level 12 - Fighter: Time for another ASI. Let's boost our Strength by two points, to the absolute maximum.
Level 13 - Fighter: We become Indomitable. Once per long rest, we can re-roll a saving throw that we fail. We have to use the new result, even if it's worse than the original one.
Level 14 - Ranger: We come back into Ranger for the rest of the build. Normally Rangers would get the Extra Attack feature, but we already have that from our Fighter levels and they unfortunately do not stack. Although, it is around this level that a Fighter would get his Extra Attack upgrade (to let him attack three times instead of twice), so if I was the DM, I would allow it.
We also unlock 2nd-level spells. Let's get Beast Sense to finally see through our eagle companion's eyes.
Level 15 - Ranger: We don't get any new spells here, but we get upgrades for some of our previous features: from our Deft Explorer, we get the Roving benefit; our walking speed increases by 5, and we get matching climbing and swimming speed.
Level 16 - Ranger: Our subclass grants us Exceptional Training. On any of our turns, when our eagle companion doesn't attack anyone, we can use a bonus action to command the eagle to take the Dash, Disengage, or Help action on their turn. In addition, the eagle's attacks now count as magical for the purpose of overcoming immunities and resistances.
For this level's spell, we're actually going to match our eagle and grab the Magic Weapon spell.
Level 17 - Ranger: Last ASI of the build, and we're going to put two more points into Constitution for some better late-game durability.
We also get the Land's Stride feature; whenever we move through a non-magical difficult terrain, we take no movement penalty. We can also move through non-magical plants without slowing down or taking damage from things like thorns, spines, etc. In addition, we have an advantage on saving throws against plant spells that would restrict our movement, such as the Entangle spell.
Level 18 - Ranger: We don't get anything new here class-wise, but we do unlock 3rd-level spells. We're gonna enhance our weapon strikes with Elemental Weapon.
Level 19 - Ranger: We learn to Hide in Plain Sight. We spend 1 minute to create a camouflage that gives us a +10 bonus to Stealth checks as long as we don't move or take any actions. We also get another upgrade to Deft Explorer; with the Tireless benefit, we can use our action to gain [1d8 + our Wisdom modifier] Temporary Hit Points a number of times equal to our proficiency bonus per long rest. Additionally, if we suffer from exhaustion, it decreases by 1 after we finish a short rest.
Level 20 - Ranger: Our capstone is Ranger 11, which gives us a subclass upgrade. With Bestial Fury, our eagle companion gains its own Extra Attack feature, allowing it to attack twice during a single Attack action. For our final spell of the build, we're gonna get Conjure Barrage.
---
And that's the mighty Kassandra, the earliest known proto-Assassin of the entire Assassin's Creed series. Let's see if I did her justice:
We're combat-oriented character, with proficiencies in all possible armour and weaponry, good mobility, some spells to enhance our damage-dealing options, and a very good scouting option thanks to our pet eagle.
Our AC (with half-plate) is 18, we have a +2 to our Initiative and the average Hit Points of 179.
For a Battle Master Fighter, we don't have a lot of manoeuvres or Superiority Dice to fuel them with. Our Wisdom score is not the best, and we keep the negative Intelligence modifier. We also don't have that many skills we're proficient in.
---
That was fun. Not as straight-forward as I thought it's gonna be, but I enjoyed making this one. Let me know what you think, what else do you wish to see, or simply tell me how's your day been. I'll see you next time, lovelies!
-Nerdy out!
#dnd#d&d 5e#character building#dungeons and dragons#dnd 5e#fighter#d&d#d&d build#ranger#battle master fighter#beast master#kassandra#kassandra of sparta#ac odyssey#assassin's creed#video games
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tina’s Tuesday Night Mini Fic Pt. 1
Word count: Who cares? Lol
A/N: Hi lovelies! I am back!! First thing, I know. You're probably saying Kiley, wtf? It's not Tuesday. I know. Life happened. I've had a busy past few days and a final today. Anyways, this was something I did with @merci-bitch when the U.S originally went on lockdown. It was a fun way to keep me busy and get my mind off of stuff. We both decided to restart this about a week ago. So, I dedicate this to my dear friend Tina. Love you hun and hope you enjoy this! And please, if you haven't been to her blog to read any of her work, go do so. She works so hard on what she writes and is amazing.
Pt. 2 will be coming next week
To everyone waiting on fics: I'll get there. Eventually. And I'm not going into reasoning. But anyways, love you all and I hope you have a great day!
"...This is the greatest show!" You slammed your hands down on the piano keys and breathed in sharply. "God damn it, Jenny!"
"What?" You let a groan and handed her the sheet music. "Look there at that line there. Do you see that note?”
“I can see, can’t I?” Her bright green eyes lost their cool shade of arrogance when she seen how pissed you look. "Not F!” You pointed to the paper in her hand. “D! You hear that note there?" You pressed down on the key repeatedly. "D!"
"Sorry." The red head smiled at you impishly. "No, you're not. This is the fifth time we've done this and yet you still insist on doing this your own way." She sat next to you on the piano bench and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Well, I think the change makes it sound better.”
“Phineas liked it better this way,” you seethed through gritted teeth. “But what does he know of art?” You could feel your face slowing turning a distinct shade of cherry red and you bit down on your tongue.
"He must of known something with how much you tried to get in his pants," you mused to yourself.
You rolled your eyes. You loved Jenny to death but how you couldn't stand her at times. You tried and tried so desperately to get along with her and compromise when she was like this but no matter what you did, she was stubborn and so..cold at times.
Sure, Jenny was a bit of a snob but she was a genius when it came to music and you respected that. She was what inspired you to take up music in the first place.
Your childhood was far from easy. Before you even joined the circus, you were bounced all over the place. You never belonged anywhere. From the deteriorating cottage in a small, seaside village in Sweden to the cramped one bedroom apartment in London that no one would dare walk past at night. Your father was no where to be seen and your mother was an actress, always struggling to meet ends meet. She was never home, but that wasn't always a bad thing. That meant you got to explore.
That was how you got to hearJenny sing for the first time. Hiding out in the musty attic of an old Swedish theatre. Even before she hit extreme levels of fame, her voice was like a siren's call. Drawing you in further and further in. It still was in a way. She was so beautiful and even as much as she pissed you off, you loved watching her sing. Like the time at the palace. She was eye candy in that dress, the way it hugged her hips and how the bust showed the slightest bit of clevage when you looked at her at just the right angle-
"Stop it, Y/n!" You told yourself. "She's not interested in you."
Or was she? The way she looked at you when you spoke to Phineas was always with such contempt or such jealousy. You could never understand why though. It was her who tried to steal Phineas away. Not you. He was a close friend who gave you a chance when you had nothing and you never so much as even thought of eyeing him in such a manner. Phineas clearly wasn't interested in her or any other woman but his wife. He pushed her away numerous times. Jenny had no reason to be jealous of you. Yet, she was.
‘But it is of me or others though?"
One could never be sure with Jenny. Sure, there was a bit of a rivalry between the two of you when it came to music. But she was your friend. 'Very clingy for just a friend,' you noted.
'That's normal though, isn't it?'
Maybe you were just over thinking things. Besides, the relationship between the two of you seemed to be getting better lately. Ever since the scandal went public, it seemed the two of you were spending more and more time together.
You were the only one who listened to her side of the story, held her when she cried, made sure she wasn't drinking her emotions away, and tried to help her through it. Even as much as she pissed you off. You warned her in the first place not to seek out Phineas but despite the nasty arguments, the constant bickering she became your friend. Maybe even your best friend. Which you got alot of shit for.
Nobody liked Jenny and you were starting to get the feeling you weren't so popular anymore either. Everyone thought after the affair went public, the two of you would of left. Her name as well as yours, was slandered all over the paper simply because you associated with her. You had been called it all. The ring leader, the mastermind, the mistress to the two.
But neither of you resigned. Yet. Part of you wondered how long it would be until either would receive letters of negotiations to end your contract. But either way, you knew Jenny wasn't leaving without you. She promised you that.
'So maybe she does like me.'
Then that small voice came in the back of your head. 'Or maybe you just want her to like you back.'
Either way, you couldn't let that haunt your conscience for now. Even as much as you'd like to visualize a future with her, it wouldn't work. You could feel the heat pooling into your cheeks as you came back to reality and bit down on your lip. Jenny's hand was lingering up and down your back, rhythmically making shapes with the tips of her fingers. Damn her and her touch! You shouldn't be feeling this way.
"Are you okay?" You shook your head and covered your face with your hands, trying not focus on all the pain you felt inside. "No. No, I’m not."
You felt tears burning in the sides of your eyes. "This isn’t working!” Jenny furrowed her brow and tried to move your hands away from your face. “What do you mean?” She was trying to be gentle even though you could tell from the look in her eyes she had no clue what to do.
“This..all of this!” You ripped the sheet music out of her hand and flung it on top of the piano. “Something's got to give,"
She rolled her eyes as if she seen it all before and stood up, walking hastily over to the ice bucket. "Do you not have what you want?" She opened up a bottle of red wine. "Fame? Recogniton?"
"It's not enough and I don't know if I even have any of that anymore." Jenny eyed you as she poured the liquor heavily into both glasses. "I'm not liked here, Jenny."
She handed you your glass and sat down next to you. You eagerly took a sip of the wine, just wanting to forget everything for a little while. "That's not true. I like you." She leaned in closer to you.
You cracked a small grin filled with cynicism. Maybe even a little bit of hostility. Never had you felt so much love and hate towards someone at the same time. "We could both leave." Jenny's voice pulled you out of your head.
"And go where?"
"Back to Sweden with me for the time being." You noticed the intensity in Jenny's eyes growing and she reached out and grabbed your hand. You could feel her nimble gently squeezing into the palm of your hand. "You know I care for you, Y/n."
"Do you?" You tried your hardest not to sound sarcastic, you were still a little mad at her. But god! How close she was to you. You could smell her expensive perfume, see the slight hint of a shimmer radiating off of her lips. "You're fiery and you don't take my shit."
This couldn't be real. You had to be dreaming. "Jenny, this...there's a possibility this couldn't work." You tried to scoot away from her, a little intimidated by the proximity between the two of you.
"We can try to make it work."
"How?" You eyed her skeptically. "Let me take you out. Let me show you I can make this work." You furrowed your eyebrows. "Why? Need a new fling after Phineas?" You teased.
Jenny wasn't amused by that all. If anything she was pissed but she smiled anyways. Seeming to stoop down to your level with a smile that was sickly sweet. "More like a date."
"And why should I do this with you?" She let go of your hand and placed it on your thigh. "Because I probably understand you alot more than you think." As you looked into Jenny's eyes, you found some level of sincerity mixed into those deep lustful orbs. You wanted to trust her so badly.
"What do I have to lose?" You thought.
Everything. Everything to lose.
"Fine." You gave in, despise everything in your mind screaming not too. "But you have one shot and one shot only."
Jenny nodded and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. "And it won't take me more than once to impress. After all, I already made your career." You felt the hair on your arms stand straight up as her hands lingered on you, gently squeezing your hips.
"I'll see you tomorrow at 6. Sharp."
"Yeah," you watched as Jenny walked away, her hair flowing behind her like a beautiful sheath.
You felt a pit growing in the depths of your stomach. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-Two
Words: 4.3K
Warning(s): explicit language, sexual situations, violence, drug abuse, domestic abuse
Tag List: @unknownoblivion @edwardtriggerhandzz @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @xpoisonousrosesx @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @lilmou5ie @emariehorror @divaanya @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @abaldboi @liith-ium @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @ytwahsog @scarecrowmax @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @cruecifymesixx @meetthesixxter @arianareirg @gingerspicetalks
@fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror @blowinmeupwithherlove @xrosegoldwolfx @mylifeisjustafeverdream @redlipscrystalskies14 @str4nge-haze @reigns420 @sixxseconds2love @leatherandheels @dogmom2014 @allyouneedislove-mp3 @n0-self-c0ntro1 @viinceneil @crystalbaby12
LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED
Vivian strikes again.
My leg shakes with each tap of my foot as I impatiently wait for her to come through that door. I've been waiting for nearly forty-five minutes.
Maybe I scared her off with pitching a fit over her not telling me about her miscarriages. But I had a good reason to be upset. Addict or not, I fucking deserved to know what the hell was going on.
"Where's your wife?" Amber asks me, glancing at her watch.
"Hiding more kids from me, probably." I mumble and she raises her brows, staring at me for a moment.
"While we wait for her, can you do me a favor?" She asks and I shrug. "Take a few minutes to try to imagine what having kids during the last four years would have been like with your drug addiction. Because you would still have a drug addiction--babies wouldn't have changed that." She points out. "Honestly," she adds. "Close your eyes, and take some breaths, and just use your imagination as to what having children during these last few years would have done to you, and to your wife.
I take a breath and close my eyes, deciding it probably couldn't hurt to try to wrap my head around being a dad right now, especially with as many as she lost...
1984
...I feel Viv's weight shift from me, her eyes closed, a little hum comes from her when she turns her back to me but still keeps close, her feet tangled with mine, her lions mane of hair still spread out over my pillow as well as hers. Despite being half asleep, myself, I tighten my arms hold just under her ribs and pull her to me before my hand slides over her five-month pregnant stomach.
I lull back to sleep, before I'm woken up merely minutes later by the sound of the baby crying and Vivian pulling herself away from me, putting her robe on to cover her naked body.
She sighs under her breath, mumbling something, and I sit up.
"I can go--"
"--No, I got it." She says, dismissively.
"Vivian, are you still pissed at me?" I ask.
"You ditched me on our anniversary and stayed out all night smoking smack and partying with your moron friends."
"I offered for you to come out with us." I remind her.
"I'm pregnant and we have a daughter here, Nikki. One of us needs to remember that." She adds before stomping out.
I roll my jaw and feel a spiteful twinge in my mind.
Perhaps spiteful, perhaps wanting to chase away the guilt of ditching her last night…
I end up in the bathroom, chasing the dragon, curled under my high while hearing Vivian softly sing hymnals to the six-month old…
I assume she knows exactly where I'm at once she's done, because I hear her walk back to our bedroom and, when she usually comes to find me so she's not by herself, she doesn't come looking for me.
1986
"...No, you idiot, not that…" I say to myself, rubbing my forehead, scribbling out the line of lyrics I've been fighting to get out.
The door of mine and Viv's bedroom is soon bursting at the hinges, allowing me to fully hear Pierce crying while Frannie and Johnny come rushing into the room, squealing.
"Hey, hey, hey!" I stop them before they can crawl under the bed. "What's goin' on?" I ask them, slowly hiding the Jack bottle in my bass case.
I spent last night freebasing and I'm still trying to coax myself down.
Frannie looks at me with sharp green eyes, her brown hair knotty looking from wallowing on the living room carpet earlier...Johnny, brown eyes and red hair, just puts his attention on the pissed off Vivian that's stalking her way in here with the baby.
"Um," Frannie starts, trying to think up her excuse.
"Francesca and Johnathan tried to tote Pierce off again." Vivian states, eyeing the two toddlers with daggers, and they slowly sink down to try to use me as a human shield.
"He's a new baby, Viv, they don't mean any harm. They just--"
"--Okay, well maybe if you put the bass down and actually come in here and help me out, you can supervise them while they 'hold' him, since I'm trying to start on dinner." She states.
I glance at the kids and then at her…
"Or you can stare at me like an idiot, too." She mumbles, going to shut the door as she says, "You have no issue knocking me up but won't help me with them once they're out."
I roll my jaw and grab my bottle of Jack, putting my bass back.
What the fuck?
If it wasn't for me writing songs, the band wouldn't have new material, which would mean no new album, which would mean no money--not enough to support her and three fuckings kids, anyway, so she should be thanking me for still wanting to provide for my fucking family. Because anybody else with three kids in two years would be putting a bullet through their skull.
"C'mon, guys," I say to Frannie and Johnny, and they follow me out, Frannie reaching up to grab my hand.
I put old cartoons on the TV while Viv puts Pierce down to sleep once he's drifted off.
On her way out of the nursery, I'm stopping her in the hallway, my hand grasping her arm in a tight hold, roughly tugging her into the guest bathroom, cracking the door.
I've got her against the counter, hand around her throat, gasping little breaths pushing past her lips for a moment as I say, "if you ever talk to me like that in front of my fucking kids again, I'll give you plenty to bitch about." I promise her, lowly, and she just looks up at me and nods.
"Now turn around." I say next and she glances at the door.
"Nikki, we don't have tim--"
"--They're watching TV. Turn around." I repeat and she grins a little, licking her lips and turns to face the mirror.
I'm unzipping my pants, yanking her shorts down and pushing her panties to the side before grabbing a fist full of her hair and sliding it in, tilting my head back and grinning as she makes little whimpers in an attempt to keep from being loud.
We've mastered the art of 'a good time in a short time,' and once we've both had our release, I'm zipping my pants back up, and she's still bent over the sink, hands white knuckling the edge of the counter, hair in her face, bite marks on her shoulders, cum down her shaking legs, trying to catch her breath.
I kiss the place between her shoulder blades, the back of her neck, her hair, my hand getting her hair from her face to look at her in the mirror.
She's looking at me with a little smile, right before, "I'm pregnant again," comes out and shatters my post-orgasm buzz.
My knuckles sting as blood rolls down my fist, glass falling onto the counter, sink, and floor, when I drive my fist past her and into the mirror.
She just hangs her head and I'm getting out, feeling the walls of the bathroom caving in on me.
"Daddy, what's wrong?" Frannie asks as I grab my keys and my jacket.
"Nothing, Frannie. Daddy's going out, alright?" I tell her. "When mommy gets in here give her a big hug." I add, seeing Johnny's too enthralled with Charlie Brown to notice I'm even leaving.
I kiss her head and I'm out the door before Vivian gets out of the bathroom.
I swear the only thing keeping us together is the fact that when divorce is an unspoken thought for either of us, she gets pregnant.
I'm twenty-seven years old and I have a two year old, a one year old, a two month old, and now she's fucking knocked up again?!
How the hell is that even possible? Don't chicks need like six months for their bodies to reset after popping kids out or something? Jesus I married a PEZ dispenser with a never ending supply of eggs.
By the time I get to where I'm going, I already regret it.
Incense, crack fumes and perfume suffocate me as soon as she opens the door in her bra and panties.
Not necessarily in a sexy way--more so in a higher than a kite and disheveled type of way.
Which is perfectly fine with me because I don't need 'sexy' right now. I just need to get outta my head.
Despite that, though, clothes come off, we end up on the living room floor, and instead of smoking a cigarette once we're finished, we opt for more erasure.
"She's pregnant again." I confess to Tansy out of nowhere after breathing out some smoke, my mind getting pushed aside, the crawling of my skin starting to settle.
Blue eyes look at me as I hand it over before her greedy hands snatch it.
"What?" She asks me.
"Vivian's pregnant." I repeat.
"I am, too." She says it so seriously that I look at her for a second, before seeing the very corner of her lips tug for a millisecond.
"You're bullshitting me?"
"I'm bullshitting you." She says, giggling, and
I start ranting about it, my words getting more and more jumbled and lost the more hits of the pipe I take, until I'm not even worried about Vivian due to the paranoia that ensues.
I get home at 5:00a.m….the day after the next. How low do I have to be to continuously go her best friend and my own moronic self pity? I don't know.
I shut the door to the house and put my shit down, nearly tripping when I try to take my boots off.
I'm on Halcions and Jack, and I think they're starting to kick in because I'm fucking exhausted.
I glance at the living room scattered with toys and rub my face.
I get it: "Mötley Crüe, don't give a fuck, fuck precautions, fuck all of it," but come on, man.
How the hell could you be so fucking reckless?
I walk into our room, the lamp on Viv's night side table on while she's got one long leg out of the covers, laying on her stomach, arms under her pillow, the covers falling just enough to cover the tops of her thighs and her ass, her back and the side of her chest peeking out, exposed.
She looks fucking beautiful.
Oh, yeah, that's how the hell I could be so reckless.
I go rinse off in the shower for a second to try to wash away Tans and the drugs...maybe even guilt….
When I'm done, I peek out of the bathroom to see that she's still asleep, and I turn off her lamp and crawl into bed, closing my eyes for a moment.
I feel her move closer to me before her lips are pressing to my cheek, hands running over my chest gently before she lays down, throws her leg over my stomach, and rests her cheek on my chest.
"Are you still mad at me?" She questions softly, and I let out a breath.
"I'm mad at myself, Viv." I mumble.
"Oh." She replies quietly. "I would get on birth control but it wouldn't react well with my Nardil."
"You mean the Nardil you aren't taking anyway?"
She's silent.
"Honestly at a point where I don't even want to have sex anymore because you're gonna end up getting pregnant." I add, gruffly.
"Oh, come on, Nikki." She scoffs, not believing me.
"I'm serious, Vivian. I'm tired of being a fucking baby mill."
"Oh you're the baby mill? You just get your rocks off and I'm the one carrying the thing for nine months but you're the victim here?"
She sits up and glares at me.
"Yes! I am!" I argue. "You have this weird thing with cum that I've always thought was hot but now I'm starting to realize you're just trying to boulder me down."
"Nikki, you've made it very clear that marriage and babies aren't bouldering you down. You still go out and party and do your drugs and your day drinking--you were just gone for over a day...so I don't want to hear, 'you're bouldering me down,' because I'm not. If you wanna leave, then leave." She snaps.
I roll my eyes and she goes back to her side of the bed and turns away from me, before she snatches all the covers away from me.
I'm too tired for it so I just pass out.
1987
"Nikki!" Doc is banging away at my door, making me snarl to myself before capping my needle and hiding it under my pillow.
"What?!" I bark out, going to the door.
I swing it open, naked, aside from stained underwear, to see Vivian and my whole litter of kids.
"S-Surpise!" Viv tries to keep her tone light and cheery for the five kids around her, our brand new girls in her arms.
I don't know how to react except to shut the door in their faces and angrily get my shit together.
I'm out of the shower and dressed in the next hour, taking the smallest hit from the needle I hid, just as a maintenance dose, before I'm heading to Doc's room--where I'm assuming he took them when they realized I wasn't coming back out.
I knock on the door and Viv opens it, looking up at me.
"Suprise!" I mimic how she greeted me earlier, and she scowls at me and goes to slam the door in my face, but I'm stopping it with my hand and shoving it open.
"Daddy!" Frannie, Johnny, and Pierce come running to me and I'm getting down and letting them attack me, wrapping my arms around them. Pierce is nearly two, now, and he's nearly as tall as Frannie.
Dannie is walking cautiously to me, smiling at me and I meet him halfway and pick him up, kissing his cheek as I go over to the little babies Doc's supervising, one a replica of me, the other of Viv…
I lean down and kiss both of them, making them smile and kick their feet, excitedly.
I wasn't there with them when they were born.
I go over to Vivian, who's got her arms crossed, her jaw clenched.
"Does Daddy get a kiss from Mommy, too?" I ask.
"Daddy doesn't have to fuss at mommy for having more babies anytime soon because daddy isn't gonna get to be in the same bed as mommy for a long time." She replies.
"Mommy seems to forget that the last three babies weren't even made in a bed." I reply.
"Do you guys wanna few minutes alone? I can get Fred, Emi and Donna down here to help me." Doc offers and I look at him.
"That's out of character and nice of you." I state suspiciously.
"Despite you being an asshole, your kids aren't." He shrugs and I roll my eyes.
I kiss all of them bye for a couple hours, and put Dannie down before tugging at Viv's hand once Fred and the girls get here...I see Donna and feel guilty…one of the chicks I cheated on my wife with is taking care of our kids…
When we get to a new room--mines so out of wack I don't want Viv to pass out--we do what we do best and in the aftermath, small talk in between breaks of making out, Vivian drops the ball.
"I know you've been seeing her." She tells me out of nowhere when my lips press to her neck, quietly.
My body tenses up.
"What?" I sit up and she does, too.
"There's no need to be shocked that I found out--we both know you wanted me to find out. Why the hell else would you leave letters you two write back and forth with each other, out in our closet where you know I'd find them?"
I just look at her.
"You and Tansy, Nikki." She states, tears in her eyes. "Why the hell have you done this to me, Nikki? She's my best friend?"
Is she serious?
I get out of bed and pull my pants on, ignoring her.
"I'm not shocked, you know, I always knew you'd be a deadbeat husband and a deadbeat dad, just like your father."
I start clapping slowly, really appreciating her performance.
"Bravo, Vivian, really, you should get a fucking award for those tears." I state, fed up. "It's gotta be theatrics because what sense would it make for you to be genuinely upset I've been hooking up with Tansy, when you and Robbin have been seeing each other for two fucking years, now?!"
Her eyes widen, she looks like a deer in headlights...which just confirms it all the more to me.
"How fucked up do you have to be to cheat on your husband with his fucking brother, while pregnant with his fucking kid?" I ask and she takes heavy breaths, obviously trying to get her temper under control. "Not to mention that I'm starting to question if Dannie is even mine being as he looks nothing like me."
She's slapping the piss out of me, tears streaming down her face.
I rub at the stinging hot skin of my cheek and roll my jaw, staring at her a few seconds, before shoving her back to the bed, grabbing her shoulders, getting in her face while shouting, "you stupid fucking bitch, I fucking hate, you ruined my fucking life!"
She's sobbing now, her head turned, mascara staining her cheeks as I push myself off of her and trudge to the door.
"Cheating on me for two goddamn years, you fucking whore, who the hell do you think you are?! I can have kids with anybody, I can have anybody I want, but I fucking chose you and this is how you repay me?! Fuck you! There's a million fucking yous out there!" I throw a bottle at her and it misses by a couple inches and she sits up, trying to stand up as I open the door.
"I'm getting my fucking kids away from you, you fucking crazy cunt!" I call and she's rushing out, wearing my t-shirt to cover herself up, grabbing my hand and yanking me to a halt before I can start to Doc's room.
"You're not touching my kids, Nikki, I swear to God I'll fucking kill you, don't touch my fucking kids! You're fucking stoned!" She threatens me and I turn.
"Oh, you'll kill me?!" I bow up at her and she punches me, her ring cutting my cheek, before she's hitting me again.
She goes for a third time but I block her and shove her down, kicking her as hard as I can in the ribs, knocking the breath out of her.
"Don't fucking touch me, you fucking slut." I smear the blood from my cheek, banging on Doc's door as she crawls a few feet before managing to pull herself up, resting against the wall, coming towards me.
The door opens and I see Emi with Pierce in her arms.
I don't say a word to her, I just grab him and smile at him, bouncing him a little, as I say, "Frannie, John, c'mon!"
Of course they come, not realizing what's happening.
Until Vivian's trying to pry Pierce from my hands.
"Let go of my baby!" She screams at me, trying to bat me away from him while he starts whining.
She hits me with her closed fist in my ear and I lose it, punching her so hard she hits the ground, Frannie and John immediately start crying upon seeing their mother bloody and dismayed.
The door opens more to reveal Doc as Emi looks at me, horrified, pulling John and Frannie back inside before Doc's snatching Pierce from me.
"What the hell is going on?!" Doc shouts as guests peek their heads out of their doors.
It's as if my demons give me the reins back and split, leaving me to look down at my beat up wife, crying, hearing my traumatized kids crying out behind the door.
I just stumble back, my back hitting the wall before I'm sliding down it to the floor, staring off as Doc continues to yell at me...
...I blink, being pulled back to reality, staring down at the floor of Amber's office.
I'm not sure if we had kids by then, if Viv would have stayed or left. I'm not sure why I imagined I would've been with Tansy and not Vanity, why she would have had an affair with Robbin and not Duff...maybe I knew, subconsciously, that us having children at that time would have changed the way everything happened between us.
"I guess it was for the best." I reply to her, finally, looking at her.
"Everything happens for a reason." She assures me. "There is a reason she didn't have any babies in the past four years."
"Okay, wise one, is there any reason she isn't here today?"
VIVIAN
"...Mom, and my brother Jon, my sister Carol, my brother Mark, my brother Bruce, my sister Joan, my other sister Claudia, and that's Matt--you know Matt," he glances at me and I nod, looking at the picture of the family, "And then there's me." He points to a toddler and I grin, looking at him. "My dad didn't wanna be in the picture, which I'm glad he wasn't because I would've cut him out if it, anyway when he left, so…" he shrugs, looking at it another moment. "Alright, let me show you to your room." He wiggles his brows and I giggle as he picks up my suitcase and leads me back down a hallway.
"This is Joan's old room, obviously been redecorated because it's not covered in ABBA and Cher ." He mumbles.
"I heard that!" Joan says from the living room.
"No ya didn't!" He replies, smiling at me, putting my suitcase on the bed. "Everybody's coming over for dinner tonight so you have time to take a nap, get comfortable, whatever." He shrugs and I nod.
"Okay." I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.
"I'm gonna go help my mom and Joan start cooking." He adds.
"I can hel--"
"--You didn't sleep at all on the way up here, Viv."
"Because I wasn't tired." I lie and he looks at me.
"Take a nap." He tells me, moving the suitcase off of my bed.
"Fine." I roll my eyes.
"Love you." He leaves me, shutting the door and I get on the bed, getting comfortable, and wondering what Nikki's doing right now...he's probably shitting a brick.
After an hour, the door is opening and Duff's squeezing my fuzzy sock covered feet, making me laughs and yank my legs away from him.
I haven't slept, but I've rested enough that I don't feel as sluggish.
"You stink." I wrinkle my nose when he lays beside me.
"Onions." He replies. "Joan kicked me out for chasing her around with the raw chicken." He adds.
"And now raw chicken juice is on my feet?" I ask.
"No, I washed my hands." He assures me.
"Okay." I chuckle, rubbing my lips together.
"Who all's coming to dinner?" I ask, next. "Jon, Bruce, Claudia, and my buddy Andy." He informs me. "Matt's coming up to go out for breakfast with me, you, Andy, and Joan tomorrow morning, and later this week we're gonna have a barbecue and you'll get to meet everybody, including my nieces and nephews." He adds and I raise my brows.
"That's a lot of people." I reply, raising my brows.
"Very big family." He agrees.
"It's weird." I say next and he furrows his brows. "Not like that, just...I don't know I'm used to being the only child, no cousins, no aunts or uncles--well, aside from aunt Lily--Nikki's not real close to his family, so we just...we're not really big on family." I shrug. "Well, dad is, he's always wanted more kids and a big family, I think, but my mom didn't so he didn't press her about it since she was ultimately the one who'd be carrying them." I add.
"Do you want anymore kids?" He asks me and I let out a breath.
"I'm not sure…" I trail off. "...I'd like to, but I don't know. I haven't thought about it, much." I lie and he nods.
"Do you want anymore kids?" I ask him.
"I do at some point, I don't think Mandy wants to, though. She says being a step-mom at the age of twenty-five is enough." He tells me.
"Maybe she'll change her mind." I say.
"She didn't want any kids when we first dated, so I think the only reason she's even making leeway for a stepchild is because she loves me."
"It says a lot about her if she's willing to do that, though. A lot of women would've left."
"Yeah, she's cooler about it than I thought she'd be." He agrees. "What did Nikki do when you first told him?"
"He cried." I admit. "Like, a lot."
"That's understandable." He says lowly.
"Yeah, it is." I nod. "He's okay with it, now, though. He's not mad at either of us. I think he's more upset with himself about the whole thing."
It's quiet for a few minutes before I get up enough courage to ask him, "are you happy?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like...you know...our break up, and then you and Mandy are engaged now and I'm pregnant…"
"Oh, yeah, yeah, no, I'm great, Viv." He assures me, sounding genuine. "I don't know, things are a mess and crazy right now but I feel like it's falling into place at the same time, you know?"
I nod, smiling softly…
…I bought it for that moment.
I realized he was lying to himself the next morning at breakfast when he told the waitress to bring him a screwdriver--a triple--and, "just keep 'em coming."
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 1
Words: About 2K
Warnings: None. Maybe some violence and a character death.
Every child is an artist.
The problem is how she can remain as such when she grows up.
It all begins with just one moment—the moment she picks up a crayon, a marker, a piece of colored chalk, or maybe a paintbrush. She uses the color red, maybe blue, or green, until her imagination blossoms and creates her hopes and dreams.
And what were her dreams? What dreams did she embrace? What honor did she protect? Well, she did many things, but as time passed and as the Planet was being sucked dry, so was the landscape. All she could see was the green lights, the iron skyline against the vibrant blue sky, reminiscent of an important person's eyes, and soon, each and every canvas was the same. The same buildings in the distance, the same children on their bicycles, the same young couple that held hands, the same schoolboy who fumbled with his phone.
To Ann, embracing her dreams was becoming much more difficult as time passed. Her time in Midgar wasn't as beautiful as it used to be when she first arrived.
It was when she was fourteen years old. She had saved up all of her money and left her hometown of Gongaga to follow her older brother where she too wanted to make it big in the greatest city on the Planet. She wanted to be an artist that would make people smile. She wanted her works to grace the canvases of every gallery where people would come from all over the sectors to see what she had painted next.
While her brother climbed the ladder and became a renowned SOLDIER for Shinra, Ann continued studying, spending the late-night hours perfecting her skills in sketching or painting while her brother slept away, his snoring sounding throughout the apartment. When she turned eighteen, she had been accepted into Midgar University, taking her place in its prestigious art program, but things changed. Ann's life grew dull, the warm and cool and pastel colors that were her world reduced to black and white, and she wasn't the same anymore.
She never picked up the color sky blue. She never looked up at the blue sky on a clear day. That very shade of blue became a constant reminder of what she had lost, and she would never see him again.
Ann was seated in her studio apartment, looking at the blank canvas propped on her easel, the city lights of Midgar just through the wide window with the skyscrapers of Sector 8 towering in the distance, Mako energy tinting the landscape a bright green with no stars to be seen in the night sky. She should have been working on her art project but she didn't feel like picking up her paintbrush, the shades of red acrylic on her palette untouched.
She breathed a heavy sigh, looking down at her lap where her hands were clasped, only to look back up when she heard a knock on her door. The brunette stood up, blue eyes set on the door, and she crossed the apartment to see just who had arrived.
"Helloooooo," a sweet voice called from the other side, and Ann knew just who it belonged to.
She unlocked the door and pulled it open, coming face-to-face with the one person who made her a life a little more vibrant. There she stood—a slightly older girl with big green eyes and an optimistic smile. Her brown hair was planted into a rope braid, tied back with a pink ribbon, and she wore a laced necktie with a flower charm along with a red bolero jacket, a pastel pink dress, and boots.
"Annie!" She greeted, wrapping her arms around the younger girl and giving her a tight hug, smelling of lilies. "Ooh, I missed you so much!" She always said that even when she had only seen her the day before.
"Hey, Aerith," Ann spoke softly before allowing her inside, closing the door behind them as the other girl walked toward the table, putting down her basket of flowers.
"I brought you those red roses you love so much," Aerith said as she took one step toward the kitchen area, opening the cabinet and pulling out an empty glass vase. "I figured you can brighten up this place. You need to surround yourself with more flowers."
"You don't have to do that," Ann chuckled a bit. "Do you want anything? Tea, maybe?"
"I'm afraid I can't stay for too long. I have more flowers to sell. You know what they say," she spoke as she filled the vase with water. "Midgar full of flowers, your wallet's full of money!"
He said that, Ann thought, walking back toward the easel and picking up the palette, washing off the acrylic in the kitchen sink.
"I see you haven't painted anything yet. Artist's block again?" Aerith wondered with an innocent tilt of her head and Ann gave a nod.
"You could say that," she said tiredly. "Sometimes... I just think I should just quit and go back to Gongaga..."
"You can't do that!" The flower girl gasped, walking away from the vase and standing at Ann's side, holding her arm with both hands, her brows furrowed with concern. "If you leave, then I'll never see you again! You're my best friend, Annie, and I'll be sad if you go..."
"Things just aren't the same anymore, Aerith," Ann shook her head, her eyes closed. "It's been a year, and nothing has changed... my world is dull... everywhere I look, all I think about is him."
Aerith pressed her lips together, gazing at the younger girl in silence, her eyes becoming melancholy. She knew exactly who Ann was referring to. That person she spoke of was important to her as well. He was the one who fell from the sky and into her bed of flowers. He was the one who helped her face of fear of the sky. His smile, his heart, his laughter, his dreams—they all became a part of her until she fell for him.
Her twenty-three wishes, her eighty-nine letters—they were all so she could see him again. Through him, she met Ann, and they became as close as sisters, and when she sensed his death a year ago, it kept her closer to Ann. She had to look after her and make sure she was okay. It hurt Aerith just as much, but she took comfort in the fact that he simply returned to the Planet.
She would see him again at one point... just not right now.
"I know," Aerith hugged Ann close, stroking her hair. "But he's always with us. You can't let his passing stop you from living. He would want you to embrace your dreams too. He will be so proud of you when you become a famous artist." She looked up for a moment, her gaze distant. "You have to keep his memory alive, and I've been doing the same thing. If I just sell more flowers, I know he'll be happy. That's what we've always wanted."
It seemed like it was only yesterday when the three of them were together. In his free time or when Ann wasn't in school, they would spend all of their time in the Sector 5 slums or the Church where Aerith's flowers grew, and they would make the best memories. They were a family and their future seemed bright, but somewhere in the back of her mind, Aerith wished she had stopped him from leaving for his mission that day, and Ann wished she had stopped him as well.
Zack... Ann thought, her eyes glistening with the onset of tears. I wish I could have told you I love you one last time... then maybe... my big brother best friend forever would still be here right now...
"Why don't we go out?" Aerith offered, pulling away from Ann and reaching forward to wipe away her tears with her thumbs before they could fall down her cheeks. "Turn those corners up. Selling a few flowers will put a pretty smile on your face and cure your artist's block!"
The younger girl was ready to politely decline, but she decided not to. Instead, she gave a single nod, the corners of her lips turning up slightly, "Alright... let's head out and sell some flowers."
"Hurray!" Aerith chirped happily, gathering her basket, and Ann gave a slight chuckle, walking toward the closet to pull out her weapon—a red rapier with a rose and gold thorns, along with three Materia slots in the hilt. It was a gift from Zack on her sixteenth birthday, and he had taught her how to wield a sword. There were more monsters in the city back when he was alive and he felt she needed to learn to protect herself in case he wasn't around.
She grabbed it, placing it at her hip where her belt held onto her red skinny jeans with black designs along the left pant leg that looked like rose petals. She grabbed her white leather jacket with its red hoodie, slipping it over her black fitted cropped shirt, and she faced the flower girl. "Ready to head out?"
"Mm-hmm," Aerith grinned, giving her a single nod, and Ann grabbed her keys. They stepped out of the apartment, locking it behind them before walking down the hallway toward the elevator, ready to fill Midgar with Aerith's vibrant yellow lilies.
******
It hadn't been long since they had left the apartment building. The streets of Midgar continued to bustle, its citizens chattering and walking about while the tires of cars raced forth and splashed against puddles. Ann and Aerith were walking through LOVELESS Avenue, the busiest street in Sector 8 which was the center of art and business. It was famous for residents who were studying in that field, as well as employees of Shinra or even the rich folks that purchased penthouse apartments at the top of the residential area. There was the local café, the art museum just down the block, the theatre where hit musicals and plays, including LOVELESS, had been held. There was the convenience store, the boutiques, the concert hall, the fountain at the center of the city sector, and just down the stairs several blocks away was the Sector 1 station.
Aerith had come to a stop in the alleyway between LOVELESS Theatre and the adjacent building, her emerald green eyes on a pipe that was slightly severed, a greenish-blue light coming out from it.
Ann had noticed her come to a halt, curiously eyeing the small light in the alleyway, "Aerith? Is everything okay?"
The flower girl was compelled to go near the light, stepping toward it and away from the busy street, crouching before the light and clasping her hands together in prayer.
Ann followed after her, standing above the slightly older woman and watching the green lights release something akin to embers. "Aerith?" She tried to grab her attention, but she was still engrossed in praying, her eyes closed. This wasn't the first time she had seen her best friend do something like this. It was almost like she was a divine being capable of sensing something otherworldly, but Ann chalked it up to her just being her quirky self as always, never questioning her.
"I hear them," Aerith spoke softly. "They're crying... they're in pain... they want help..."
"Who does?" Ann wondered, but the other girl didn't answer her. Instead, she stood up, having finished listening to the voices that echoed in her head, but her blood ran cold, the sound of howling coming from the other side of the alleyway. She flinched and looked the other way, her brows furrowed, shoulders tense.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Ann inquired. Obviously, she couldn't hear the howling, but she could see the way Aerith had tensed, her eyes in the other side of the alleyway.
"I'm fine," she began before turning away, walking back toward the busy street. "L-Let's get out of here..."
"Wait!" Ann called out, following after her and still perplexed at her friend's frightened expression, and she bumped into a pedestrian, exclaiming slightly as the flowers in her basket fell to the ground.
"Hey, watch where you're going, chick!" The man barked, and the flower girl's eyes widened apologetically, bowing before him several times.
"I'm so sorry!"
He grunted, walking away and grumbling every curse word in his vocabulary while she stayed in her ninety-degree bow.
She gave a huff, straightening her stance, eyes darting toward her feet before her lips parted. "Oh no!" Aerith gasped, kneeling to grab the assortment of yellow lilies and red tulips that had fallen out of the basket.
Ann dropped her shoulders, opting to help her, grabbing the flowers as quickly as she could before anyone could step on them, and once Aerith reached for the last lily, another passerby walked past them, stepping on the flower, crushing the petals underneath his boot, and the flower girl's heart sank a little.
When he was gone, she gathered the flower in her hand, touching the petals delicately. She sighed heavily in defeat, holding it to her chest, "You poor thing..." she couldn't stand it when people stepped on flowers. "Normally... people are more careful with flowers... but he didn't even bat an eye..."
Ann looked over her expression with pity and melancholy. She knew how important flowers were to Aerith. Back when she first met her, she recalled the big scolding Zack had received when he almost stepped on her flowers. "Not many people see them in the city," Ann frowned, holding her shoulder in comfort while giving her the rest of the flowers that weren't harmed. "They often take such beauty for granted..."
"I wish they didn't," she mourned, lifting her gaze to look up to the nearly black sky, covered in smog, Mako energy, and light pollution.
"One day, I want to fill the whole city with flowers," Aerith continued. "But how can I do that when the Planet is crying out in pain?"
Ann wasn't sure how to answer that. Slowly, she pulled her hand away from Aerith's shoulder, lifting her gaze toward the sky, and she too gazed at how starless it was. Back in Gongaga, she would have seen so many of them, but this was Midgar, the iron city, and there was clearly something wrong. Zack... she thought. What would you do?
******
Somewhere in another part of Sector 8, the train was pulling into the Sector 1 station near Mako Reactor 1. Atop the train, on one of the many cars, someone was kneeling, baby blue eyes set on his destination ahead, the wind blowing in his spiky blonde hair. His hand grasped the hilt of his giant broadsword tightly before bringing it against his forehead, almost like he was paying respect to it. Then, he set it on his back, standing up from his crouched position.
He was tall, with a lithe, well-built frame, his face fair with the lightest dust of freckles dotting the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He had a tall nose, thin lips, his eyes glowing with Mako energy. He wore leather and metal gauntlets, a pauldron on his left shoulder, and the garbs of a SOLDIER First Class.
The train came to a halt, pulling into the station where two Shinra troopers were on patrol. He hid in the shadows, waiting for the right time to strike, and the troopers inspected the train before one of them was pulled into one of the cars, knocked unconscious by a young man on the heavy side who wore a yellow t-shirt, denim shorts, a red bandana, and some belts and armor.
The remaining Shinra troopers had realized his partner had been immobilized, and he followed the sound of his pained grunt, his machine gun at the ready, but another male had captured him—a young man of the same age with scruff on his face, brown spiked hair and a bandana on his own forehead. He wore a t-shirt, protective gear, and fatigues, and while he held the captured trooper, a third person appeared.
The woman kicked the trooper in the stomach, a smirk gracing her pink lips. Her hair was tied in a ponytail and she wore breastplates over her blue shirt with brown fatigues. She giggled and watching her friend set the trooper to the ground and finally, came the leader of their little group.
He was a burly male with dark skin and tattoos, a crew cut, scars on his cheek, and a gun for an arm. His shades covered his eyes and he wore a sleeveless vest along with a wife-beater, dog tags, cargo pants, and a belt. He turned toward the top of the train, speaking in a gruff voice, "Get down here, merc."
The blonde male complied, making a grand entrance as he flipped off the train, looking ahead toward the end of the platform. It was time for their bombing mission.
My name is Cloud. SOLDIER First Class
#ff7 oc#ff7#final fantasy 7 remake#final fantasy 7#final fantasy vii#final fantasy vii remake#ffvii#ff7 aerith#aerith gainsborough#cloud strife#ff7 cloud#cloud x oc#eventual romance#romance#angst#slow burn#eventual fluff#eventual smut#action#adventure#sci fi
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Muslim Writer on Finding Her Voice in Post-9/11, Post-Trump America
— By Aisha Sultan | 09/01/21 | Newsweek.
A new generation of Muslim Americans is making its mark. Spencer Platt/Getty
Like most Americans old enough to remember, I know exactly where I was and what I was doing on September 11, 2001 when the first hijacked plane hit the World Trade Center in New York City. I was showering when I heard my husband yelling for me. Dripping wet and wrapped in a towel, I watched in shock, along with tens of millions of others, as the Twin Towers fell, killing thousands of people inside.
Emotions from that day feel so much closer than two decades ago.
My stomach turned in revulsion. My body tightened with fear for my relatives who worked there. Dread settled like a heavy rock on my chest. Like other Americans, I wondered, who was attacking us. But as a Muslim, I had other questions too: Did the attackers claim to be Muslims? And, if so, what would happen to the rest of us?
I quickly got dressed and headed to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, where I worked as an education reporter. I talked to stunned school officials and students while still trying to process what was happening.
That evening, I checked in with my family in Texas. My brother, then in middle school, had been in class when his teacher broke the news. He became nervous and, in the teacher's eyes at least, asked too many questions. "Is this World War III? Did they bomb downtown? Are they going to bomb our town next?" The teacher told him to shut up and leave her classroom, that she couldn't bear to look at his face.
Riz Ahmed attends the "Mogul Mowgli" press conference during the 70th Berlinale International Film Festival Berlin at Grand Hyatt Hotel on February 21, 2020 in Berlin, Germany. Ahmed recently criticized “dehumanizing and demonizing portrayals of Muslims" in films. Andreas Rentz/Getty Images
My mother's co-workers at the department store where she had worked for years suddenly refused to speak to her. Cops escorted my hijab-wearing cousin off her college campus because it was no longer deemed safe for her to be there.
In the immediate aftermath of that day's horror, my grief and anger as an American was so compounded with my fear and anxiety as a Muslim that it compelled me to do something unthinkable for me: I poured my heart out to the readers of the Sunday paper.
Back then, it was unusual for a news reporter to pen a personal response to a national tragedy. This was long before social media made us all performative, confessional animals. I needed my neighbors in the Midwest to know that while Muslim Americans shared their grief and anger, we also feared whether our country would turn on us.
I ended that column with the questions my college-aged sister had asked me: "Will the government come after us like they did with the Japanese? Will other Americans stand up for us?"
I told my readers the same thing I told her: I don't know.
I wasn't sure what to expect but dozens and dozens of readers responded to her question with expressions of support: Yes, we will stand up for you, you and your family are one of us, they said, in one way or another, in message after message. There were just two negative, Islamophobic emails in the bunch.
Such an overwhelmingly positive response seems inconceivable now, given how polarized our discourse is now and how normalized hate speech has become—an irony, when you consider how heightened anti-Muslim sentiment was at the time.
Key moments after 9/11 also feel unimaginable now. Back then, a Republican president, George W. Bush, visited the Islamic Center in Washington D.C. days after the attack to tell the American people that the attacks violated the tenets of Islam—"Islam is peace," he famously said—and to defend Muslims as equal citizens worthy of respect and protection. Our last Republican president, by contrast, touted a "Muslim ban" across the country. Even my state, Missouri, now bright partisan red, was a swing state back in 2001, where Democrats sometimes voted for Republicans and vice versa.
Coming together after tragedy: U.S. Muslims sing "God Bless America" at an interfaith memorial service in Pasadena, California for 9/11 victims two days after the attacks. Lucy Nicholson/AFP/Getty
It was against this backdrop that I felt moved to share my vulnerability with readers who may never have met a Muslim before.
Their responses reassured and comforted me, but the expressions of support didn't always—or even mostly—translate into action on a national scale. Instead, the Muslim community bore the brunt of the fallout of 9/11 for years. The government targeted Muslim communities with surveillance, questioning and confinement. It seemed law enforcement and the media used the label of "terrorism" for heinous crimes only if the perpetrator was Muslim. The number of anti-Muslim hate crime incidents reported to the FBI rose from 28 in 2000 to 481 in 2001— and those are just the official numbers. Countless incidents are never reported to the FBI.
Yet, in those ensuing years, creative work by Muslims also bubbled up in the country. A trio of Muslim comedians—Preacher Moss, Azhar Usman and Azeem Muhammad—launched the "Allah Made Me Funny" comedy tour in 2003. Writer Laila Lalami's debut novel, Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits, was published in 2005. Actor Aasif Mandvi began appearing on The Daily Show in 2006. G.Willow Wilson published her first graphic novel, Cairo, in 2007.
People who had lived as Muslims in America prior to 9/11 became American Muslims, more engaged in its civic, cultural and political institutions. Muslims creatives were reclaiming the narrative and telling our own stories instead of responding to the false dichotomy of victim or villain told about us.
I was among them. Seven years after the attacks, I began lobbying my editors for a features column, a departure from a decade of straight news reporting. I had become a mother with two small children. I was trying to make sense of the confusion and isolation that parenting provokes. My first column in 2008 described a bleak winter day when I was sleep-deprived and frustrated and feeling slightly suffocated by the tight bonds of motherhood.
The author: St. Louis Post-Dispatch syndicated columnist Aisha Sultan. Elizabeth Wisemen
Again, readers in the heartland responded with overwhelming support and commiseration. I wasn't making any overtly political arguments. As readers got to know me, they appreciated the commonalities in our parenting experiences despite our differences. I wasn't trying to be an ambassador or spokeswoman for my faith or an ethnic community. I was sharing my observations and struggles as a suburban, middle class American mom who happened to be Muslim and of Pakistani descent.
An older, childless white man who lives in a conservative exurban county wrote to say I was the only Muslim he knew besides the attackers on 9/11. He said he had changed his perspective on Muslims in America after reading my column for years. We weren't just a faceless enemy to him anymore. He saw me as a person, my humanity very real to him.
We've stayed in touch for more than a decade.
Over time more Americans have become like that reader, increasingly comfortable with the idea and presence of Muslims—as neighbors and even family members. Yet simultaneously, the conservative right turned Islam into an effective political weapon and used it to bludgeon Muslims who have sought greater representation and political power.
These opposing forces once again became evident in the correspondence I got from readers, The tone and tenor changed notably in the summer of 2016 as the political rhetoric of the presidential campaign came to a boiling point. Public writers have always had our share of angry critics. But the criticism I received turned increasingly vitriolic, with a deep undercurrent of anger. People who disagreed with what I'd written weren't merely looking to dissent but to silence me.
Increasingly, pushback was laced with profanity, racial slurs and calls to go back to where I came from. Anonymous writers called me a 'raghead c*nt' and others told me to "get out of America, you towel head bigot b*tch." One reader mailed a handwritten letter after I wrote about talking to my children about the killing of Travyon Martin, the Black teenager fatally shot by a white member of a neighborhood watch patrol in Florida. She said she would make a point of cutting out my column photo from the paper every weekend so she could put it in the toilet and piss on it.
After the 2016 election, the heightened anxiety about personal safety I'd felt right after 9/11 returned, even stronger and lasted for years. It's not hard to understand why. During the period between 2015 and 2016, the number of assaults against Muslims rose significantly, surpassing the aftermath of 9/11, according to a Pew Research Center analysis of hate crimes statistics from the FBI. Over the following years, disinformation and conspiracies began taking hold in America at a level I'd never seen before. White rage was palpable online and eventually, on the streets.
The memories and feelings associated with the events of 9/11 continue to play a role in attitudes toward the American Muslim community in some quarters. Here, the annual 'Tribute in Light' memorial in lower Manhattan near One World Trade Center. Spencer Platt/Getty
And yet during this period, Muslims in America continued to create art and cultural capital at an unprecedented level. Playwright Ayad Akhtar produced his Pultizer-winning play Disgraced. Hasan Minhaj reclaimed the title Patriot Act, launching a show that became a cultural touchpoint for a generation of American Muslims too young to know firsthand how that legislation was wielded against the Muslim community. Ramy Youssef won a Golden Globe, Mahershala Ali won two Oscars and Lena Khan is directing Hollywood films. Models, pundits and Olympic athletes came into the spotlight while wearing a hijab.
At some point, I too decided that whatever the costs of speaking out, far greater was the cost of silence. If someone was going to attack me for speaking out against white supremacists, that was a risk I was willing to take. I couldn't back down from writing about controversial issues that I knew would provoke an angry backlash, even when it felt reader abuse could possibly escalate to violence.
What I've observed and experienced over the past 20 years, as a columnist and as a Muslim, perhaps boils down to this: As the politics of exclusion grow more strident, parts of the culture embrace inclusivity. Each force is a reaction to the other.
Certainly this has happened in my own relationship with readers. Even as the negative emails ramped up in intensity and bile, I still have far more readers who send words of kindness and encouragement than hatred. Many reveal their own secrets and most vulnerable stories.
My goal when I began writing a column was to give a voice to parents struggling to raise kids in this digital, social media saturated age. I hope I've done that but along the way something else important happened: I found my own voice too.
My youngest sister, who was in college when I wrote my first personal story in the aftermath of 9/11, decided to attend law school after she graduated. She eventually ran for state judge in the 113th District in Houston and was elected in 2018 as part of the record-setting number of Muslims who won public office that year.
With the benefit of two decades of hindsight and the insights I've gained from my interaction with readers over the years, I realize I could have given her a better answer when she turned to me as a frightened college student in 2001. I could have reassured her: Yes, there will be other Americans who will stand up for us.
More importantly, we will learn to stand up for ourselves.
— Aisha Sultan is a syndicated columnist based at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lavi art fight resource
hrrrg. cat boy. causes problems on purpose and loves his wizard. is sometimes a lion
an excerpt bc i pulled one for the others and id feel weird not doing it for him (its fjord in the pictures, not anta)
The second to last match ended in a draw as the gathered crowds cheered the two young mages and their familiars on.
Team one, comprised of the superstar evocationist, Anta, and his lion familiar Lavi, had broken through the conjured hoards of beasts with sheer and near unimaginable brute strength. They cleared the hoard the fastest, though points were deducted for their near complete lack of teamwork and frequent communication failures.
Team Two, the summonor Fjord and his crow familiar Rook, took only a few moments longer, but worked in near perfect tandem, as was the goal of this competition.
In the small waiting room between matches Lavi's deep amethyst mane caught gold streaks from the sunlight that dripped through the window he was dosing beneath. He stretched splaying his massive paws as he cracked a glimmering red eye open to watch his master pace about like a caged animal.
Lavi knew Anta could probably use a hug, but they were trying to conserve magic between matches so Lavi had to stay a lion. It did hurt to watch Anta tie himself up in knots like this, both in the sense that Anta was his friend so Of course Lavi didn't like seeing him in distress, and in the much more physical sense that Anta was accidentally letting so much negative energy seep through their connection that Lavi was starting to get a headache from it.
"They're cheating," Anta declared, his shaggy black hair a mess from the wind and him running his fingers through it as he pulled his thoughts together, "That's the only reason Fjord could have ever made it this far. They Are Cheating,"
"A little more elaboration would be nice, darling," Lavi sighed as he stood plodding over to Anta and plopping down in his path. If Anta didn't chill out Lavi was going to have to break out the big guns.
"Fjord is No where near as good of a caster as me, and Rook is nowhere near as powerful as you. They shouldn't be winning!" Anta huffed tapping his foot as one hand strayed to pet the massive feline before him. his fingers brushing over the smooth golden fur on Lavi's snout then forehead before tangling with the hair at the base of his mane,
"They're winning because they work better together," Lavi sighed,leaning into the touch for a moment before headbutting Anta's hip just enough to knock him back a step "Litteraly the only critique we ever get is that we don't communicate well,"
"But we do! We do, we always get what ever need done, done. We've never failed an assignment, We're the better duo, Lavi" Anta took the hint and sat down on the old wood floor, pulling his show jacket off and tossing it up onto one of the tables before lying down,
"I'm not denying that we're better, we are, but… We work well together despite each other. I never know what you're planning before it happens and I just have to roll with it. You don't know what I'm doing, so you just keep pushing power through. It works, but Barely," Lavi settled down on top of him with a sigh, careful to make sure he wasn't putting too much weight on Anta,
"I still think they're cheating," Anta says after a moment, his hands going to braid a section of Lavi's mane.
"Then look for evidence during the last match. but do you really think Rook would let Fjord cheat?" Lavi closed his eyes again, ready to get a little more nap time in before they had to be on the field.
"Rook can't tell Fjord no anymore than you can tell me no. And I absolutely believe Fjord would cheat," Anta said with the up most conviction.
Round three began with the announcement of the trial, a simple test of connection.
Lavi and Rook would be facing off in a game of capture the flag, completely separated from their casters and unable to hear or see them. Fjord and Anta would however be able to see the entire field and could pass spells to their familiars as needed.
This should be easy, Anta reasoned with himself, he and Lavi were used to this lack of direct communication while Fjord and Rook weren't. They could win this and take the competition.
The countdown began and Fjord was already starting to try and focus, his spell book open on his lap with one of his own sigils already prepped.
Anta couldn't say he knew what it did, Fjord's sigils were always such a jumbled mess that trying to parse them out was fools errand.
The game began with a thunder clap. Lavi didn't wait for Anta, and was already storming through the maze that filled the field. the low shield overtop the whole thing kept Lavi from jumping the hedges, but an admittedly over powered blast of fire sent through him by Anta was more than enough to deal with the lush greenery standing between them and their goal.
Cloaked in flame Lavi ran on, as Rook began laying the protection wards Fjord was sending his way, before darting down the path that Lavi was coming up.
Anta grit his teeth as the pool cracked open across the path right before Lavi made the final turn. Unable to stop in time Lavi skidded into the water, firmly putting out the fire. He launched up after Rook, his jaws snapping at thin air as the bird darted out of his grasp and back towards his own flag.
Anta tried a different approach, Lavi was going to go at this head first like he did everything, and Rook was going to stay on the defensive until the last moment, so a quick invisibility spell cast over Lavi should be more than enough to let him stalk closer.
One of the wards Fjord had passed through earlier cracked that plan open a second later. Lavi stood from where he had been stalking, a second away from launching up to grab Rook. There was a moment between the two familiars before Lavi shrugged, shaking out his mane before turning and heading back into the maze.
A new strategy. Anta loaded a ventriloquist spell, if it worked it should fill the maze with duplicated sounds, making it impossible to tell which way Lavi was coming from. Then another spell to silence Lavi's footsteps, and a final one to amplify his speed. Lavi could probably see Rook's flag, this would be more than enough to give him the cover and boost he needed to grab it.
It wasn't.
Before Lavi had even made it around the corner Rook was laying another trap in his path.
Anta watched as Lavi was caught up in the snare, his massive body crashing down as his legs were pulled out from under him.
His chest ached with a sympathy pain, but his heart thundered with excitement. There. That was it. There was no Possible way for Rook to have been able to guess with that much certainty which path Lavi would be coming down. Fjord had already used his illusion dispell, and they could both still hear the rumblings of a hundred phantom lions.
Fjord and Rook were cheating, they had to be, some communication relay if Anta had to guess.
And there was a very easy way to prove it.
Lavi was going to Eat That Stupid Fucking Bird. Screw the flag! This was personal now. First off, the water had been So Uncalled for, what type of fairy dunked their friend like that? and now all the damned snares that kept catching Lavi off guard were driving him Mad.
Anta was also to blame for this, he needed to chill out on the high power spells, because while Lavi could handle them, channeling all that power was starting to make him feel fuzzy around the edges. He wasn't reacting as fast as he should be and it would only take one good hit to dematerialize him if he had to guess.
He felt a spell well up in his chest, something burning and offensive that he didn't fully recognize. Whatever, this felt strong. He crouched and watched the air for the black soot stain the was Rook. Anta didn't hand out spells earlier than was 100 percent necessary, so Lavi didn't have to wait long.
As soon as Rook was in sight Lavi lunged as hard and fast as he could, the trigger on the spell was tripped as his fangs clacked together around air, Rook having managed to dodge just out of his grasp.
A blast, of pure hot magic tore out of Lavi, nailing Rook dead on and knocking them both back down to earth with a heady thump from Lavi and a fluttering crash from Rook.
Lavi stood first, his legs shaky and his vision blurred as a sickness racked him. A deep ache in his very blood that even he could recognize as magic poisoning. Anta had pushed everything he had through Lavi, and if Lavi had been any weaker it wouldn't have just banished him back to the fae relm, it would have killed him.
The realization hit Lavi like a letter alerting a newly made widow to the tragic news, and the competition was forgotten as he sought out Rook.
He was still, a mass of scorched black feathers that shuddered and cracked with too much magic.
Rook would have been banished if it actually was as bad as it looked. Lavi told himslef that as he gently picked up his friend betwen his teeth and ran for the emergency exit he and Rook had been queued into before the match started.
The school's healer was already there, taking Rook from Lavi with steady hands even as Lavi stumbled. The crowd that had been watching murmured as Fjord ran onto the field to follow after the healer as she hurried away. Worry clear on his young face as he demanded to know what was happening. Lavi couldn't hear the answer.
Anta was at his side a moment later, a bruise already starting to darken over his left eye.
"Lavi?" Anta knelt down to look his woozy friend in the eye, "Hey, Lavi?" he sounded so scared, his voice tight as tears welled in his grey eyes,
Lavi didn't have the capacity to answer, instead he just rested his heavy head on Anta's shoulder, leaning into his master as he let himself drift off.
Lavi woke back in their dorm room, with Anta sat at his desk accross from Lavi's bed. His eyes were red and puffy, his thin face pale and stricken and he poured over text books,
"Anta?" Lavi asked as he stretched, still woozy but feeling much better than he had imeaditly after the game, "You don't look to hot,"
Anta jolted at the sound of Lavi's voice, turning before throwing himself at the lion, wrapping his thin arms around Lavi's neck and burying his face in the thick hair of his mane.
"I'm so Sorry," he sobbed, "I- I thought I had proof. but I was wrong and-"
"Shh, sh, Hey, it's ok, we all make mistakes, Darling," Lavi tried to comfort him as best he could, but he never knew what to do when humans cried, "What happened though?"
"I thought- I thought they were using a communication relay of some kind, and I thought I had proof. So I- I overloaded a spell and told Fjord what I was doing. If they had been using the spell Fjord would have been able to warn Rook, but I was wrong and- Lavi I'm So Fucking Sorry,"
"Is Rook ok?" Lavi asked quietly, Anta shakimg his head and sobbing harder was all Lavi needed for an answer,
"The Healer said I broke his connection back to his real body, but since his mind was here, when his vessle died He-"
"Oh," What was there left to say? Rook was gone, not banished temporarily, but dead. Fully and truly, and it was Anta's fault.
Anta sobbed, "I was so scared you weren't going to wake up, I didn't mean to hurt either of you-"
"I know, Anta,"
Anta never really calmed, but the tears stopped eventually as he threw himself back into his research. Necromancy wasn't Anta's specialty, and Lavi knew that even if it was, there was no other to bring Rook back from. The energy that made up his soul would have been returned to the fey world the moment he died to allow it to dissipate back into their home lands.
Lavi was pretty certain Anta knew how this worked. But it was an admirable show of denial that he still he searched for a solution to his mistake.
The pounding on the door made them both jump as Fjord's voice cut through the quiet "Anta, Get Out Here Now,"
Lavi was on his feet before Anta, he already saw where this was going, and he couldn't let it happen.
"Lavi this is a direct command. Lay down in your bed and stay there until I get back," Anta stood like a man going to his execution as Lavi moved to follow his orders without a will driving him,
The pounding continued.
"Anta, Please, no. Just give him time to calm down," Lavi could feel the panic rising even as he could do nothing about it, "Please just use that big brain of yours to think this through-"
Anta ignored him as he stepped up to the door, with a final sigh he spoke over his shoulder, "Be good while I'm gone, ok? and thank you, for everything." and with that last statement he left. the door clicking shut behind him as the shouting started.
Lavi could do nothing as panic turned to grief.
He could do nothing as he felt his connection to Anta sever.
He could do nothing as he found himself back in his cavernous home. Once again alone.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Texas Hold Em'"
(PART TWO of the "Unconditional Love" fic. In this AU, the boys are all alive, modern setting and not cannibals. Just a bunch of eccentric boys with secrets. Hope you enjoy!)
Early morning, a tinge of blue coats the walls like thick paint. You forgot to close the curtains, but this isn't your house, so how would you remember so easily? You wonder if your dog is having a good time lazying up the house with your friend who came to pupsit. But you have other things to worry about, she's in good hands.
The guest room at the boys farm was empty other than an uncomfortable old futon, some strange bone art (as you know, Nubbins and Bubba are quite the taxidermy artists) and the subtle smell of a "cinnamon clove" candle on the dresser that really ties it all together.
The sound of a rooster crowing next to the window reminds you..
"The boys are up already. Today I finally get to meet the notorious 'Chop Top'" you thought to yourself, struggling to get the heavy flannel sheets off so you can get dressed. "first day as a farmhand, that's a step up from gas station attendant."
When Drayton saw how easily you got along with the boys, he realized that you could be a good addition to the farm. Obviously you wouldn't live there full time. You've got your own home and your own life seperate from them, but something draws you there when you have free time. Actually, someone.
Stomping down the hall, you hear boots already mud clodden. Speak of the devil, he knocks at the door frame with a gentle thud. He groans in a way that almost sounds like "are you up?" You see his eye barely peak through the gap in the door.
"I'm getting dressed, Bubba!" You shout, grasping at the sheets to cover yourself. You hear the sound of his heels turning and a slight jog that turns into some thudding and stomping again. He must have been embarrassed because he turned heel, ran, stumbled and hit the lamp in the hall on his way out.
"BUBBA YOU FOOL, YOU DAMNED NEAR BROKE GRANDMA'S GOOD LAMP!"
Drayton's up.
"GODDAMNIT BOY, GO ON OUT AND GET THE TRACTOR STARTED!"
You hope to yourself he isn't like that with you. Poor Bubba.
"You about ready in there Y/N? We've got to get some work done and then we'll get breakfast made." He took a totally different tone with you. It's almost sickening that he can be so nice to you and so mean to his brothers, but you can't complain because he'll do his best to hold his tongue with you around.
"I'll be out in just a few, Drayton! I'm putting my boots on now!"
He chuckled on his way down the hall.
"Chop Top's back from the VA Hospital, so be prepared. He's crazier than any of us." You can't tell if he's joking or dead serious.
You meet Nubbins at the door.
"Hey! Hey Y/N! Bubba wants you to meet the animals and his favorite are the birds! They're so nice, really good tempered! The ducks are his favorite but I think the chickens are mine!"
"Alright! We'll go check them out together, they have to be fed anyways right?"
"Oh yeah! And they eat real good too! Hungry little things!"
He prances down the lane towards a little crooked shack, Bubba's standing outside the door putting buckets of water and feed out for the birds. He just can't stop wearing that pretty mask and suit. He knows how much you like it and you haven't seen the other mask since the day you met. He's dressed to impress and he's going to get his dress boots dirty, you just KNOW it.
The sun's come up as you were coming down the lane and Nubbins, running in his standard silly formation, makes it to the door and slams it open, letting out all the chickens to Bubba's dismay. He hadn't finished putting everything down and now he has to get his shoes muddy to get back to the other side.
He looks to Nubbins and groans loudly, putting his hand up to his masked face. Shaking his head, he walks around the muddy nasty pen and finishes his job. As soon as he sees you he perks up, running out the pen and nearly ripping his good coat on the wire fence.
"Good morning big guy! Thanks for the privacy this morning!" You laugh as you watch his cheeks redden from under the mask. "It's alright you didn't know I was changing. Anything exciting planned for this afternoon?"
He points toward the gate at the end of the midpoint in the driveway, a truck is making it's way out toward the road and you see Drayton, his mouth running like he's cursing his whole way out. His window is closed but you feel for the poor soul on the other end of the phone.
Nubbins runs up and grabs you by the shoulder. "He's going to get Chop Top from the bus station in town! They finally got him out, he's going to get him and we'll have a great time, a hell of a time!"
You've heard wild stories about this guy, and you weren't sure how to feel about him but certainly he would come to be as close to you as the other boys.
Bubba and Nubbins finish doing their jobs while you get some Alfalfa treats for the cattle out back. Who knew these hefty old things were like big dogs themselves? The one with the biggest horns you knew to be "Dolly" the longhorn named by Drayton and his favorite. You give her a couple extra treats for good measure.
It's only been about fifteen minutes since Drayton left, and based on Nubbins' watch, he wouldn't be back for another 45. Now's your chance to get even closer to Bubba. He doesn't talk much but there's a spark and he for sure likes you.
More of an action than words guy, that boy.
"Hubba Bubba, look at you all fancy!" You smile at him, he's got his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, his pant legs rolled to the knee and he's slinging a 50 lb bag of cracked corn into the feeder. He looks down at you, giving you a once over before wiping corn dust off of his tie and jacket. "I'm done with my jobs if you want to go on a walk!"
Bubba giggles to himself before putting the burlap sack on the pile and walking up to you, excited to spend time with you, knowing soon you two can have a snack at the barn.
"So, do you like living on the farm?"
He nods, he loves it here with all the animals, you can tell. He scratches his chin under the mask. He must get hot wearing those all the time and shaves quite often so it must get itchy.
Walking down a hill toward the barn you pass a beaten up old shed. Getting too close to the door he grabs your hand and snags you in close to him. He's shaking his head no.
"What's wrong with the shed, Bub?"
He looks uncomfortable and points to the barn.
"Okay okay, we'll keep moving." You give him a pat on the lower back and keep walking before giving one hesitant glance back at the shed. What's in there and why is he not letting you in? Weird.
Halfway to the barn you realize you're still holding Bubba's hand. He's tangled his fingers up in yours and you feel him gently trailing his thumb around on your hand. He looks down at you every once in a while just to be sure you're comfortable. He's nervous and it's easy to tell.
You try your best to reassure him by doing the same and smiling back each time. He lets out a relieved sigh as you make it to the barn. A decrepit old metal barn from the 50s filled to the top on one side with square bales of hay and the other side a little table with five chairs and a couple of empty stalls sit. The barn is open on both sides other than the back, a torn up old screen sways back and forth in the wind, like a piece of paper held on with tape. Bubba retracts from your hand to pull down some bales with ease, stacking them into something roughly resembling a couch.
He flops down on them with only a slight rustle of the hay, obviously more comfortable than the little rusty metal ones at the table. He sits up and pats the bale beside him. You walk over and flop next to him, looking around to see that Nubbins is nowhere close by, you wrap your hand around his and lean into him. Between the heavy overalls you have on guarding you from the itchy hay and this space heater of a man, you're warm and comfy. Bubba gazes down at you and envelops you in his arms. He too is very comfortable.
---
"I think they're in the house, I couldn't really tell you!"
You hear Nubbins in the distance, it sounds like he's yelling to Drayton and Chop Top but you can't be sure.
They can't possibly be back yet unless...
Bubba's asleep. You were asleep. How long have you been out? How long have they been home? Is Nubbins covering for you?
"Well tell them if you see them before us that Chop Top and I are making lunch and they'll be too late if they don't get themselves up here!" Drayton sounded like he was content for the moment but if you didn't get to the house soon you'd be in big trouble. Footsteps trail around the back of the barn, Nubbins peaks in and whispers loudly to the both of you.
"Get yourselves together love birds! Drayton's gonna whoop my ass if you two don't get in this house soon. It'll be real bad! So hurry on up!" He blows a raspberry at the now awake Bubba who groans at the thought. You look up to see the bottom of his mask has rolled up to reveal a normal looking chin and mouth, a freshly shaven face is hidden by the mask every day and you don't get to see it so this is a glance you didn't expect. As he starts to roll down his mask, you grab his hand. He looks at you scared and worried.
"I'm not going to take it off" you smile at him and he calms, holding onto your hands. "I just want to try something and you have to tell me if you're uncomfortable okay? I won't ever try to make you uncomfortable."
Bubba nods at you, his left hand trailing up your arm, resting on the nape of your neck where he can run his fingers along your hairline. As you lean in for a kiss, he closes the gap. Your lips touch and he pulls you in closer, holding you in his arms.
Bliss. You may have been kissed before, but he was a whole other ballgame. He had never kissed before and there was a level of touch starvation that he was trying to cope with upon this embrace. He was holding you and being held by you at the same time and he was beyond happiness.
Bubba's depraved lips were soft as silk and cherry flavored as they grazed over yours, his cologne thick but not overpowering smelt of burning oak wood in a crackling fireplace. The only fire here is one of desire and soon you would both be burning. His hands crept up and down your back and hips, trailing over your hands and back to your hair. Soon enough you felt smooth shaven skin and soft pillowy lips crawling down your chin and neck, circling your shoulder. You were completely and utterly surrendered and victim to his tender embrace.
*horribly obnoxious phone ringing*
Bubba breathed hard letting you go, a sigh escaping his lips as he pulled his mask down again. You reach into your pocket and pick up the phone. Of course, Drayton was getting finicky.
"Where are you kids? Your jobs couldn't have taken that long!"
"Sorry Drayton we'll be right there!" He hung up and you could see the dissapointment in Bubba's eyes. You were dissapointed too but relieved because you weren't sure how far that could have gone. "Sorry Bubba, Drayton wants us at the house."
He grunted as he stood up, helping you up after him. He held your hand as you walked back to the house. You didn't get a snack, instead you got a whole lot of a hot take.
---
The birds squawked and cooed softly as you passed by, echoing the same calmness that filled the breeze. In that breeze came the smell of lunch: a mixture of fried eggs, bacon, fried apples, little crunchy potatoes and fresh squeezed orange juice. The taste of cherry carmex chap stick still lay thick on your lips as Bubba walked beside you.
It was going to be the best job you could ever have dreamed of.
#leatherface x reader#leatherface mlm#leatherface cosplay#leatherface#bubba sawyer imagines#bubba sawyer x male#bubba sawyer x female#bubba sawyer x reader#horror imagine#slasher imagines#slasher love
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
6.23.20
One thing that I was just reminded of in a dream:
Part of the reason why I don't feel completely myself, no matter how well I fix my algorithm?
No real dancing.
I've been swing dancing since I was 13. I don't know the official date of my swingiversary (unlike some folk) because I was dragged along. My sister's then-boyfriend's sister was a regular there and had gotten my sister involved. My sister had been trying to get me to come for weeks. In theory, I was down - she'd taught me the East Coast basic and two turns years before, but only the lead's footwork. (This was very quickly discovered at a volleyball teammate's swing birthday party, where the instructor asked for volunteers for a demonstration. I was so excited, and then did so terribly because I kept trying to start on my left foot.. it was a learning experience.)
I distinctly remember the day she got me to come. She was in the downstairs bathroom, door closed, and I was chatting with her from just outside. I don't remember any of our previous conversation, but just the following:
"Hey [my name]"
'Yeah?"
"Guess what day it is"
[I knew it was Thursday. There was a moment of silence.]
I can't remember the exact words of my reaction, but I'm certain I started fumbling around trying to make excuses for my completely open evening. Sequins just kept firmly saying, "Nope. It's Thursday, you're coming to [Lindy]."
Little did I know..
.. Just how TERRIBLY I'd do my first night!
Of course I jumped into the beginner Lindy lesson. This was when they still taught an actual lindy basic in that time, plus one move.
I don't remember the lesson or most of the evening. I only remember my first actual dance on the floor - the first one they played after lesson - where a kind gentleman asked me to dance and I could not get through a count of 8 without stopping. I may have once or twice in the whole song. We just stuck with lindy, no East Coast.. It did not go the greatest.
Part of it might be terrible memory (as previously found out this last week), but I don't remember being upset.
As mentioned, I don't know how the rest of the evening went, but evidently I kept going.
I don't have too many early memories - mostly things like wearing the red dress that was really a Latin dress but was the only dance-y dress I owned. Then wearing a different dress that I was.. hmm.. not old enough to fill, and one embarrassing dance related. With the addition of dresses came the one night that taught me to wear dance shorts. (I'm certain nothing actually happened, but that concern when you normally wear baggy shirts and jean shorts, and you feel the skirt lifting higher than you'd like? It changes you.)
My first most common outfit (though I can't remember how soon this was after I started) was my red latin dress, a red flower clip in the back, and my slightly-too-big red flats. (A.k.a. the ones I wore EVERYWHERE through ninth and tenth grade.)
Eventually [Haute] gave me my black and white, polka-dot diner dress. I still have that one, and wear it on occasion, but it's just getting old. (It started my Heart of Haute collection though, which was all I would wear for years.)
But that second common outfit was that diner dress, the red flower, and red flats.. clearly there was some easing that needed to happen. Somewhere around there I must've gotten into a single red lip color I had - but I only applied on the main lip area, no edges and most definitely no shape. Ah. Oh very grateful we've come a long way on that end.
I would stand immediately left of the door, cause that's where our friend and Sequins would stand. That stuck even when Sequins stopped coming. (I don't remember why.. but our friend and her friend kept coming for a bit and then stopped too.)
I remember learning the subtle art of asking for/declining a dance even before partners asked - I thought it was the coolest, subtlest thing. I remember watching follows do swivels and admiring them. If I wasn't dancing, I was standing with my arms behind my back, leaning against the wood of that door-left area.
I learned to love dance so much.. in tenth grade my teacher (and mom of my dear friend Caesar - one should also note the class consisted of Rose, Caesar, and I) told us about a dream she had about me getting all the boys from dance. I was mortified, everyone laughed, and it's been a tease since.
Oddly enough, somewhere in there I had the first gentleman ask me out. We were great dance friends! Tried to get a dance with him each time - we got along so well. At one point he asked if I had a boyfriend. I laughingly replied some variation of no. He asked if he'd have a shot. I kindly (and genuinely!) explained that I was 14, but sincerely appreciated it and if I'd been older, absolutely! (I never got his age but knew he was older than me.) He was embarrassed, and I don't really remember seeing him much after.. I understand the embarrassment but still miss him. Alas.
(And there-related, I'm either impressed with him or myself - either he had a very kind eye or I looked relatively together at the time, cause let me just tell you, compared to today's get ups? Oh honey. Oh I was so not properly dressed. Pretty sure this was still when I'd slick my hair back into a tight ponytail.. oof nope not my best look.
That said, we all start somewhere, but dang..)
I definitely had regular partners through that time, though they've changed drastically! It wouldn't be for a couple years that I'd meet Kaiju, Respect-women-juice, and Steals - my longest running, in-and-out-of-dance friends! Let alone more recent friendships..
Oof the early days. Parents dropping me off and picking me up. Then me driving myself but having to be home by 11 for the first year of my license. The different parking lots - North, South, and finally the underground (and my SPOT. I miss my spot. And B. I hope she's doing okay.)
I miss Lindy so much. I relatively regularly attended from that point on. It was a key part of my week for almost half of my life. It's definitely shaped so many parts of my life - respect, communication, kindness, joy, confidence, self-respect.. and much more I know. Heck, even gender roles - I remember getting so excited about leading and talking to a non-dance person as I got better. They were confused as to why being ambidancetrous was a goal and thought it was odd for people to be swapping around the 'fundamental dynamic' of a guy leading and girl following. Meanwhile I was so excited about leading I forgot that was even a view.
(My feelings were captured in the in image below:)
I miss dance. I miss the feeling of a good swingout. Of hitting the break perfectly. Of a favorite song coming on and despeRATELY NEEDING TO FIND THAT PERSON. I miss seeing other dancers in public and getting all excited. I miss trying a dance with a stranger and having it go REALLY FREAKING WELL. I miss finding story songs with Sandman and playing all sorts of characters. I miss laughing when messing up. I miss messing up but playing it off. I miss playing off an entire song cause neither of us are feeling it so we both just act ridiculous. I miss switch dances. I miss getting more confident in my lead. I miss dancing outside Lindy and Peanut-Butter & Dance. I miss hugging my friends. And getting good dips. And everyone's "dance outfits." I miss the Sisters' elaborate themes. The regular FEAST of snacks. I miss Heroes sneaking me in. I miss helping afterwards and catching up with everyone. I miss the peppermints at Lindy and having to move my "spot" for my stuff when the corner would get crowded. I miss the friends I'd make in the ladies lounge. I miss dance shoes. And space. And Camp Hollywood.. frick I miss Camp Hollywood. Days of dancing. The whole mindset being different. (And I was even going to bring ACTUAL food this year! (Not that protein bars and bananas aren't great, but.. variety)
I miss the music. The go to songs. I miss the smells of each of my favorite dance places. I miss feeling like I'm "coming home" every time.. And even if I have very low energy, still having a lovely night talking away to someone.
Especially Lindy. It did feel like home. I knew so many folks there. It was a wonderful home outside school, outside Old Street/New Street. It was my own space where I'd created myself. (Not in a facade way - quite the opposite. Where I'd built myself and my adult identity up from the roots.) It was my space. Not in an owning way, but in an independence way. Before I attended professional mixers and conferences, before I started at Engineering School, before I'd really had full on interviews - I was already my own person, forged by way of jazz music and incredible dancers.
That last part of the sentence is still off. Mostly cause it reduces dance to two things. But eh.
Of course as an adult there's so much more to learn about dance. Now is the perfect time to catch up on my swing history. It's changed over the years and I want to know that change. It's meant more than just light-hearted movements, and I want to catch up.
It's not stagnant. There's much more to know.
I've ignored dance due to "new physics" and therefore subconsciously not letting myself connect with that part of me. But there are other pieces I can learn without actually dancing.
Now is the perfect time for that.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Destiel Chronicles
(Vol. XXII)
It was a love story from the very beginning.
Worry about you
(6x15/6x17/6x19)
Hi my friends! Today I want to talk with seriousness about one of the most hilarious episodes from season 6. And because it was written by Ben Edlund, there's juicy Destiel elements there. I will talk too about episode 18 and 19, near to the end, because I will take some points from those too.
I want to give thanks to my friend @agusvedder , she made the gifs for this meta! Love ya girl!
Ok, let's start this volume...
Balthazar calling Cas as Cassie
When 6x15 "The French Mistake" starts, Balthazar appears in Bobby's house, moving fast as Cas did in 6x03, appearing and dissapearing the whole time looking for things to use in a spell... In the middle of that loud scene, this dialogue is developed...
BALTHAZAR: Raphael is after us all. You see, he's consolidated his strength. And now he's on the move.
SAM: And where's Cas?
BALTHAZAR: Oh, Cassie? He is deep, deep underground. So, good old Raffy put out a hit list on every last Samaritan who helped our dear Cas – Including both of you. And so much more importantly, me. See, he wants to draw Cas out in the open.
First of all I want to say, each episode written by Edlund, shows us DEAN AND CAS ARE IN LOVE, each one of them. The man knew what he was doing writing their relationship as romantic. So, I would say... This wasn't the exception... Why Balthazar would name Cas as Cassie (Dean's first love?) Balthazar doesn't know that, but we do, the spectators.
Dean exaggeratedly eye fucking Misha/Cas
One of the most hilarious scenes was this one here ...
Dean playing to be Jensen playing to be Dean, and the eye fucking. Delightful, just because Dean knows Cas and him do that thing the whole time. So, he plays his role, but because Dean is an awful actor, that's the result.
Pretty interesting Dean is aware of it... Just saying.
Dean starts to worry about Cas
By the end of the episode, Raphael find the boys and Balthazar, but Cas makes his apparition. But why on Earth the camera just took Dean's facial reaction to what Cas was saying and doing?
That's fear and concern in Dean's face... He is maybe seeing things are not good... And he's worry because CAS doesn't tell him the whole thing...
CASTIEL It was Balthazar's plan. I would have done the same thing.
Castiel is in soldier mode these words made Dean be a little mad at him...
DEAN That's not comforting, Cas.
He would expect something different from his friend, like maybe, some kind of protection, and not be used as bait. So here Dean is feeling a little disappointed.
CASTIEL When will I be able to make you understand? If I lose against Raphael, we all lose. Everything.
Edlund is pointing one of the excuses for Castiel taking this kind of decisions and positions. Castiel needs desperately to win against Raphael, and he's willing to everything to fulfill that mission. Even lie to the Winchesters and work with Crowley.
DEAN Yeah, Cas. We know the stakes. That's about all you've told us!
CASTIEL I'm sorry about all this. I'll explain when I can.
Cas would love to count with them and not lie them, but he's at war.
DEAN Friggin' angels.
Edlund's Dean quote each time an angel surprisingly vanish in front of him 🤣
Jealous!Dean attacks again
In episode 6x17 "My heart will go on"
When Fate is attempting to kill Dean and Sam
In that abbandoned restaurante, i noticed something interesting. Remember I mention the colored codification started in this season? Well... We have another Destiel Coded Colored foreshadow. The burner knobs were colored in BLUE and RED, representing Dean and Cas, but toxic, angry Dean. And the whole place exploded... So... What a big and huge foreshadow for the settlement of the bid Destiel fight and break up in the following episodes, isn't?
But we're here to talk about Jealous! Dean, because we love it.
When Cas saves the boys from that explosion, this was part of the talk...
DEAN So we've pissed fate off personally.
CASTIEL If I know her – and I do – she won't stop until you're dead.
DEAN Awesome. So what do we do?
CASTIEL Kill her.
SAM Kill fate?
CASTIEL Do you have another suggestion?
SAM No, I'm – I just mean, uh...Can you even do that?
CASTIEL Balthazar has a weapon that will work against her.
DEAN Of course he does. Yeah. Boy, that guy's just got it covered, doesn't he?You need new friends, Cas.
Do you notice the shade of jealousy here?? And then...
The dialogue between Fate and Cas showed us again how desperately was Castiel to win the war. And Balthazar was working for him. We see more about how CAS is getting into the dark side for the biggest purpose.
But even so, they showed us too, he's worry about Sam and Dean safety.
By the end of the episode, we had another dialogue between Castiel and the boys...
And Cas lies to Dean...
And then Dean makes a bad joke, and Cas dissapears again.
DEAN I'll tell you one thing about Cas, he does not appreciate the finer things.
Dean says this because isn't the first time he makes a joke and Cas vanishes. But I wonder if is related to Castiel feeling a little bit offended, and you'll know what I mean in the next point...
Dean mocking CAS, just because he enjoys it
In episode 6x19 "Mommy Dearest" we can see how since this scene happened...
So, Cas feel offended, and Sammy pointed that to Dean. Dean gets a little surprised, but...I'm sure this was very enjoyable for him, because then he'll mock him again.
Also... I want to mark here something... If Cas was able to dissapeard by flying here, I'm sure he may do it. Because... I recall that scene in the car in season 5 (last episode) when Dean mocked him about not having sense of humor, he vanished then. And the we had the Kate Winslet's breast joke, and now this one... So...
We had this one here...
Again mentioning babies, because he knows Cas got mad about that, and he repeats the action. He's enjoying it, for sure.
But we will have a sweet Innocent comment, I just wanted to share...
The thing here is the sexual innuendos in this episode, firs the famous "Cas get out of my ass!" And now this one here, so funny the double meaning... And Dean's gay panic face 🤣🤣🤣😏.
Castiel is worried about Dean
This episode showed us too, Cas in his soldier mode, can see things the boys can't. Like those little kids in that police station.
Castiel and Dean fought because CAS wasn't agreed with them in driving those kids to their home.
CAS: Dean, Dean. Millions of lives are at stakes here, not just two. Stay focused.
Castiel in soldier mode, trying to make Dean to understand the danger in his decision, but it was late, because Sam and Dean saw in those kids themselves.
DEAN: Are you kidding?
CAS: There's a greater purpose here.
Castiel's excuse to do the things he's doing.
DEAN: You know what, I-I'm getting a little sick and tired of the greater purposes, okay? I think what I'd like to do now is save a couple of kids. If you don't mind. We'll catch up. Okay guys, let's go. C'mon. (Dean walks out. Joe, Ryan and Sam follow.)
Cas and Dean are in different pages, Cas is cold minded, first killing Lenore as it was nothing, then torturing the sheriff, and now... Because he's feeling worry about Sam and Dean...
But we know he already fix this sending Crowley.
Another thing is, when Eve attacks Dean, the only one calling his name in despair was CAS...
But when he had to heal him, he took his time, studying Eve's dead body on the ground... He was worried there... Because it supposed that monster should be alive to find Purgatory...
But then Sam reminded him Dean was hurt. So he approached him, and the way he heals him caught my attention, he out his hand on Dean's shoulder... As if he wanted to say something... But he didn't. He just healed him. Maybe with a shade of relief Dean was ok...
Just an addition...NUMBER 25
Ok, the number 25 was mentioned a couple of times in this episode. It was the age of the patient that died and the address in which Eve was.
So... What does this number means? It represents the Argonaut in the arcana. The Argonaut is a Greek hero (it could be Cas) but it also represents in numerology the number 7 that means the inner war to choose the right path and the impulsiveness as a dangerous way to make the wrong decisions... It sound familiar, isn't?
To Conclude
Dean was worried about Castiel because he saw how dangerous was Raphael.
Castiel is between his soldier duty and the love he has for the Winchesters. As we will see in the following metas, he's worried about their safety.
Dean enjoys mocking CAS, that's not news...
Jealous!Dean is delightful too...
Castiel lying to their friends for the biggest purpose, as his excuse. And his impulsiveness and desperation to win a war.
I hope you like this meta, I see you in the next Chronicle. 😘💞
Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @koshisekisen @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @angelneedshunter @trickster-archangel @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @mishka-the-angel-of-saturday @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @xsghn @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant
If you want to be tagged, please let me know.
If you want to read the previous season 6 metas, here the links...
Vol. XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XIX, XX, XXI
Buenos Aires, July 31st 2019 9:14 PM
70 notes
·
View notes
Text
1️⃣7️⃣
<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>
1.1.17 HALLOWEEN NIGHT 12:24 AM
Haddonfield, Illinois
Samantha yawned as she pulled the keys from the ignition. More lightning flashed in the sky as she behind her, through her rear windshield, at the square building in front of which she was parked. A white triangularly shaped sign with blue lettering designated this as THE PYRAMID INN. The property was perched on a flat hill, overlooking what the locals called “Dysfunction Junction”. Interstate 57, US Route 31, and Illinois 395 all came together in a tangled mess of off ramps and on ramps that sprawled like spaghetti noodles over the northern running section of Lost River, which in this part of town had been diverted into a concrete culvert in the early 40s as part of one of Roosevelt's “Work's Projects”.
Samantha had parked at the end of the mostly empty parking lot, which was her custom, and from her vantage point she could see down into the nest of intersections. She saw the lighted signs of big box stores off to the east on her right. Straight ahead she saw the gas station from which she had come, and to her left, off to the west, she saw a strip club that very obviously used to be a Howard Johnsons, it's parking lot completely full with some cars spilling out along the side of the road in front.
Lovely, she thought sarcastically as she opened her car door. Just my kind of town.
The sweltering humid air hit her in the face like a tennis racket.
“Jesus, it feels like Miami.” She said to herself, and then smiled as she clicked the button on the fob in her hand to open the hatchback on the Murano. “I wish it were Miami.”
Nyguen pulled her rolling suitcase from the back of the car, placed it on the asphault, and extended the handle. “We'll just pretend it's Miami.” She decided as she closed the hatch and turned toward the motel.
The Pyramid Inn seemed to want to help her with the fantasy. For one, it was sweltering hot, almost as bad as outside, and as Ngyuen walked through the automatic glass doors, she felt like she had been magically transported back in time twenty-five years. The lobby was painted a pale teal color, with mauve indoor outdoor carpeting, and popcorn ceilings flecked with glitter....this Sam noticed right away. The yellowish light from pineapple shaped fixtures along the walls was defracted by the glitter, creating the sensation of moving sparkles above her as Samantha strolled through a lobby furnished with wood and wicker tables and chairs, painted white, the chairs padded with brightly colored cushions patterned with tropical motifs. There was abundant wall art too---strange scenes of Egyptian landmarks like the pyramids at Giza and the Sphinx, except...done in a weird art deco style that seemed wrong somehow.
An large old fashioned square CRT television was affixed to a hanging mount in each corner, below each was a potted palm tree. One of the TVs was displaying The Weather Channel although the sound was turned all the way down. A pretty blonde woman was standing in front of a map of the Midwest, sweeping her hand across thick line of red, orange, yellow, and green splotches. The other TV had the volume on and was showing an aerial view of a baseball stadium even the most casual of fans would know.
“We're in the top of the 10th here at Wrigley Field in Chicago. The Cubs have gone to the bullpen yet again for another pitching change as the White Sox have just taken 3-2 game lead in this decisive Game Seven of the World Series.”
Nguyen rolled her luggage around a coffee bar, and approached the desk, bumping into a cheap looking display rack featuring brochures with picturesque views and colorful headings. SEE CHICAGO! THINGS TO DO IN CENTRAL ILLINOIS! PEORIA CALLS YOU! And SEE THE CAVERNS OF LITTLE EGYPT!
A morbidly obese woman sat behind the counter fanning herself with one of the brochures: LOST RIVER KAYACKING!
She wore a white t-shirt with red letters that read: I SURVIVED ARKANSAS' LARGEST SLINGSHOT AT THE CRITTENEDEN COUNTY FAIR 2003. The shirt had either been shrunk so many times by frequent washing or the woman who wore it had ballooned up in weight considerably because now it hugged the contours of her bulbous body, giving her a look of the Michelin Man. Her mouth hung open revealing two sets of badly yellowing teeth, and a large dime-sized mole protruded from the left side of her neck. Sam could see the light from the pineapple lamps reflecting off hairs near the tip of the mole.
Not quite Miami, Nguyen thought as she cleared her throat.
“Excuse me?”
The woman did not stir.
“Curveball from Bellamy drops inside, it's one and one on Franklin.”
Nguyen rolled her eyes.
“Ma'am!” She exclaimed and plopped her car keys loudly on the desk.
The woman jumped and her eyes snapped open. The brochure fluttered aimlessly to the gound as she leaned forward in the seat, blinking rapidly for a moment before fixing her gaze on Samantha.
“Jesus Lord Almighty!”She exclaimed, breaking out into a haughty laugh that seemed to come from the depths of her enormous stomach. “You scared the everliving tar out of me!”
“I'm sorry.” Samantha smiled warmly.
“Don't be, don't be.” The woman groaned as she stood up from the chair. She wiped the beaded sweat off her forehead. “Jesus God is it hot in here!”
“Yeah it is.” Samantha agreed, withdrawing her phone from her pantsuit pocket and checking the time, mentally calculating the precious few hours of sleep she was going to get that night.
“It's not our fault.” The woman exclaimed, reaching the desk and panting as if she had just climbed a mountain. “Corporate has the damn thing programmed. This time of year the AC never comes on in here. We're supposed to run the ceiling fans, but that's been broke for two years.”
She motioned to the ceiling behind Sam who turned around and saw two wires protruding from a hole in the ceiling in the center of the room, as well a slight discoloration in the form of a circle where a fan obviously used to be.
“And then they tell me if it gets too hot to open a damn window. I said Christ!, it's just as damn hot out there! And the wind aint blowin for nothing.”
Samantha replaced her phone in her pocket. “Yes, it sure is strange.”
“It's NEVER like this in October...hell..now it's the first of November! NEVER like this! I mean...we've had a hot day or two at the beginning of September but NEVER this hot on Halloween!”
Samantha nodded, not knowing what else to say.
The woman moved a computer mouse across the desk and began typing on the keyboard.
“I tell you what,” she said, “I don't understand all of the mess that they talk about on the TV.”
As she said this, she pointed to the television in the corner that was displaying The Weather Channel, which right now was showing a commercial for Flex Seal. “But this type of weather will make you a believer in that Global Warming stuff.”
“Yeah,” Nguyen forced a laugh.
The woman looked up at her and waved her hand. “But you don't gotta worry about it, there's a window unit in your room. The rooms are nice and comfortable.”
“That's good.” Nguyen replied.
“Just you tonight sweetie?”
“Just me.”
“I just need a drivers license.”
Samantha presented it.
“Just passing through?” The woman asked as she entered Sam's information into the decade old computer.
“No, I think I'll be town for a few days.”
The woman looked up in disbelief. “In town? What town? This town?”
Samantha didn't know what to say.
“No one comes and visits Haddonfield!” The woman laughed another belly laugh. This one devolved into coughing which she stifled with her hand....the same hand she handed Samantha back her driver's license with.
Not Miami at all. Sam thought, placing the card into her wallet.
“That will be $38.96 sweetie.”
Sam couldn't hide her surprise. This was the cheapest motel room she had gotten since...well...ever. She passed over her Bureau issued AMEX card.
“Oh I'm sorry honey, we don't take American Express.”
“Oh.” Samantha shrugged. Ordinarily this might have been an issue but she was pretty sure she could handle a $40 motel room from her personal checking. Besides, the department would reimburse her later. She passed over her VISA.
“I'm gonna need a receipt then.” She said.
“You got it.” The woman replied and opened a drawer in front of her, pulling out a large bronze key on a white triangular shaped keychain emblazoned with the motel's name and logo.
Actual keys, Samantha marveled, not those plastic keycards. She wracked her brain for the last time she had seen that and decided on..never.
Five minutes later she had rolled her suitcase into room 113 and had turned the key in the lock. The room was furnished very much like the lobby: light teal walls, mauve indoor/outdoor carpeting, popcorn cielings flecked with glitter set to sparkle by another pineapple shaped light fixture. She was almost positive the bedspread and pillow case mached the pattern in the chair cushions in the lobby as well. Samantha paused briefly to look at a picture on the wall, another strange Art-Deco Egyptian painting, this one featuring Cleopatra flanked on both sides by lions. The paintings were so bizzare and striking. Sam looked in the bottom corner: Rose Gauge 2019.
I'm gonna have to google more art by this Rose Gauge person. She thought, kicking off her shoes into a corner. She walked over the window unit as she pulled at the buttons of her pantsuit. There she turned the knob all the way toward the thickest part of the blue semi-circle and felt a refreshingly invorating blast of cold air hit her face from the dusty looking window air conditioner.
She laid down on the bed, and still with her bra and spanx on, she fell asleep almost immediately.
NEXT>>
#halloween#halloween franchise#michael myers#horror#horror writing#haddonfield#horror film#horror story#fan fiction#scary story
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
CHARACTER SPOTLIGHT
ADDISON WOODS, P 1
Requested by @zoophobiapika
For anyone who does not know what this is, Character Spotlight 1 is where I criticized how a specified character is written. Part 2 is where I analyze the character and make predictions. Also, I'm doing these in a slightly different format, so if you see me redo my Damian character spotlight, don't be surprised (plus I'm not proud of that one). I am also specifically criticizing how the character is written. I'm no expert when it comes to art, so if you'd like a critique on his design, I'd recommend bugging @rzphhs.
Zoophobia belongs to our fandom's Lord and savior, Vivziepop. This, however, is not a critique of her CURRENT writing skills. Not sure if you noticed, but zoophobia is kinda old. The reason I'm doing this is because I believe that when we analyze stories we love and find flaws within them, we can find ways to improve our own writing. I do not hate Vivziepop, and this is not meant as an attack. Also, you're free to disagree with me. I'm not some godly figure who's always correct. However, I ask that any comments remain civil. If any arguments or whatever break out over this, Imma Chase some bitches with a pool noodle. We good? Let's go.
-------------------------------------------------
" BREAKING NEWS. LOCAL CANADIAN HAS DECIDED TO ONCE AGAIN TALK BAD ABOUT AN INCREDIBLY CUTE CHARACTER! IF YOU HAVE SEEN THIS INDIVIDUAL REPORT THEM TO THE DEPARTMENT OF WHOGIVESAFUCK AND TURN THEM IN IMMEDIATELY. THIS PERSON WAS LAST SEEN ROBBING A STARBUCKS, WHICH YOU'D THINK WOULD BE A BIGGER CRIME, BUT HEY, WE ALL KNOW WHAT TAKES PRIORITY! "
Oh what a lovely day. I haven't slept all night, and I have ammonia or something. Lovely. What a perfect time to talk about a fictional character. Look, if it's any comfort to the fan girls who come across this, part 2 will have me being more of a fan than a critic. Just bare with me for this, and if worse comes to worse, blame Pika.
-----------------------
As per usual, let's get started with some criticism I don't agree with.
Addison looks like a girl
Alright, first of all, don't read my stories. Second, maybe this is because I live in Canada where the need for equality is pounded into your head every other hour, but...yeah? Dudes can look girly. Have you never seen a girly guy before? If so, how? Now, I'm aware that some people have an issue with this because Addi is gay, and girly gays are a common trope when gays are presented in media. While yes, this is true, Addi being a sort of trope isn't necessarily a bad thing. A trope-y character can still be written well and be entertaining. Besides, it's been said that all original ideas have been done before, so good luck trying to ever find a 100% original character anywhere.
-----------------------------
That's about all, but before I tear this character limb from limb, I'd like to go over things I DO like about this character.
He was ok in chapter 3
Yeah, he had problems there too, like when he just stood around and had little to no reaction to his bff turning into a mini cuthulu, but those are not problems exclusive to Addi. He didn't stand out much, per say, but what we got wasn't terrible. His banter with others was fine and even funny at some points.
He has a character motivation
Yeah, his goal to find love is a boring one, but unlike some of our other important characters, he actually has one.
He might be more interesting in the future
Addison is basically an artificial life form created by Xirxene, and not only is Xirxen after him, if Vivz still goes with this concept in the reboot, he apparently has mad sword skills yo, a dark side called Adder, and can summon two giant ass snakes. If that concept is still going to be used, then hell yeah, I'm down for that shit
----------------------------
Now the moment we've been waiting for. What do I have against Addi? Why do I find him annoying as a critic of zp? Grab a cup of maple syrup, because this'll be a doozy. I'll order my issues from least bothersome to the most.
His relationship with Gustav
Ok, I think we can all agree that this relationship was poorly done. While I myself have no problems with this pairing, the way Vivz had them come together was shit. Gustav looks like a pedo creep hitting on a student, and Addi looks like an idiot as he just lets Gustav insult one of his friends. Their relationship is hasty, and the only apparent attraction they have for each other is their looks (and Addi looking like a 12 year old doesn't really help Gustav's pedo case. Don't worry, any concerned readers, there isn't any pedophilia going on. Addi has apparently been aged up to 17, and Gustav is 19)
Just to clarify, hasty relationships in stories aren't in themselves a bad thing. This could serve as a reflection on both the characters. Perhaps they fall in love easily. Perhaps their just the type of people who'd do these sorts of things. The problem here is that Addi is the only one of the two who seems like he'd do this. It's stated by Dame (who could be hyperbolising here for all we know ) that Addi throws himself at guys very often. Gustav, however, doesn't seem to have anything about him that'd suggest he'd be down for dating someone he just met.
You know how this relationship could be fixed? Gustav is 19, so he would've graduated only a year or so ago. So, have him and Addi be old friends who hung out before Gustav graduated. Perhaps have them have an attraction to each other that was initially waved off by Gustav at first, but now he's back, he might be interested now. Also, have them be attracted to each other for more then just looks. Perhaps they respect each other's talents, perhaps they have similar interests. That'd make their relationship a little more believable.
His personality
You know, in all my time spent in the zp fan base, I've noticed that the majority of Addi fans like him because he's cute. Not because of his personality. Just because he's cute. I mean, I don't entirely blame them for focusing on his appearance more because his personality. .....woof.
Zoophobiacomic.com describes his personality as the following;
" Addison likes to keep to himself and spends most of his time working in the Art Wing. While he doesn’t often open up to others and can sometimes hide away an air of elitism, he has developed a close friendship with his classmates Damian and Sahara. Their outward energy and enthusiasm has begun to counteract Addison’s typically introverted nature"
So he's shy, and a bit of an elitist, and he's slowly becoming more self confident. Ok.....now let's look at what the comic itself presents us. For one thing, he's surprising sassy, especially in ch3, not just to Dame, but to Leeson the crazy priest as well. He's also surprisingly self centered. Look at how he reacts to Dame being a shit to other people compared to how he reacts to Dame being a shit to him. Orchestrating an event that gets your cousin set on fire? That's ok. Preventing Addi from going on a date? That bastard! He doesn't even seem to care when Gustav insults one of his best friends. He also doesn't show any regret about attacking Mackenzie. Him having these traits aren't a problem, but this raises a bit of a concern for me since I don't think this is the impression we're supposed to get from his character.
His dumbass decisions
Yes Addison, go off on a date with some sexy random dude when there's an entire organization after you and you have no way of defending yourself. 10/10. 100/100. A+. Gold Star, Gud Job, Perfect Logic, Go buy a colouring book you infant!
His PTSD
Let me get one thing strsight (so at least one thing in this post isn't gay af), I don't have an issue with him having PTSD. My problem is how it's handled. The story acts like Addi attacking Mackenzie is just peachy keen because it was triggered by his ptsd. Except guess what? It isn't.
I'm going to be honest, I (someone with more then one handicap) hate it when those with disabilities are treated like babies, and The world must conform to their needs, and nothing is their fault because mashed potatoes. Look, a handicap can affect how you live your life, but it doesn't mean you get a free ticket to easy street. If anything, your life gets harder. And guess what? People babying you and pretending that your disability prevents you from any fault DOESN'T HELP. IT MAKES YOU WORSE. I'll use one of my own handicaps as an example. I have Auditory Processing Disorder. One symptom is that I can't hear myself, do I often talk incredibly loudly without realising it. Now imagine I went through life always yelling because no one told me to take it down a peg. Soon, yelling would become a habit, and it'd be a much harder problem to fix.
You guys starting to realize why other characters acting like Addi did nothing wrong bothers me? That's not how you react when someone with a disability does something like Addi does. It also makes me concerned that the comic will continue down the route of "oh, he has a disorder, so he's not really at fault ", excusing various bad things Addi does on his PTSD.
--------------------
So now I've typed out enough words to rewrite the American constitution, I'll end it here. Thank you for reading, and tell me what you think. If you'd like to see me critique another character like this, feel free to request it.
I apologize for wasting your time.
-ATOUN
23 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
1drdeb
dr debs radical fabulous life
ximlar
megapsina
werthalnd
thaok
happyflops
Revolutionary Assassins
poetisaindomavel
Palavras ao vento