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alloverthegaf · 2 years

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hi everyone I know I’ve been MIA forever I’m sorry but let me make it up to you by telling y’all the story of our mystery visitor.

A couple of months ago I woke up at night every now and then to hear meowing outside our window, but I never saw the culprit, and eventually forgot about it.

A week or so later we left out a pizza box with a slice left in it. Next morning Ron gets up for work and wakes me up to find out what the hell happened in the kitchen.

Naturally I, the country girl, started completely freaking out because I was imagining all the different creatures that could be secretly living in our house. Ron, the city boy, thought this was hilarious. I did not, because I was busy imagining waking up to a possum or a wild rat sitting on top of me in bed.

We did more investigating that afternoon and found little dirty paw prints on his computer desk, and the sink counter in the bathroom. Too big to be a rat, small enough to still be a possum, or a small cat.

Over the next week, we notice more small signs that SOMEONE is exploring our house in the midnight hours, but no more clues.

Then, one night, I’m sitting in our bedroom straightening my hair, and notice movement out of the corner of my eye. I look to the doorway and see a dark, bushy tail disappearing into the main bedroom, which we haven’t moved into yet because we haven’t set up my bed from home yet (different story). I quickly run and close the main bedroom door, then run to the entertainment room where Ron’s gaming and shout “I CAUGHT IT”.

I rush him to the bedroom and we open the door, and nothing’s there. That room permanently has a window open for an old air con vent, so clearly the intruder escaped.

At this point, obviously, I have come to the conclusion of cat.

We go away for the weekend (ANOTHER story, so romantic omg), and when we get back, we set up the bed and move into the main bedroom.

A week later my friend shows up on my doorstep crying and holding her 2 year old (oh my god another story I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long) and later we’re hanging out the back and chase the toddler back inside. When we all come out, her little snack pack of salami and cheese is missing all the fucking salami. I’m like “THE CAT!! IT WAS THE CAT!!”

We still have not properly met our regular visitor.

Then we have an irresponsible moment and buy a smart TV for the bedroom. I’m sitting in bed watching youtube and it happens. WE MEET.

He jumps right into the bedroom like it’s his own domain. We finally have our moment of true contact. He sniffs my hand. I pat him. He tries to bite me. He butts his head against me asking for more pats.

I gently coax him into letting me pick him up so I can bring him to Ron, who’s gaming online with the guys. I enter the room, call out “Ron!” and he looks away from his FPS and goes “...oh boy.”

Next he’s explaining through his mic that he thinks I’ve just adopted this stray cat.

Thing is I don’t think he’s a stray. He looks well fed, fairly groomed, he’s so comfortable with me.

As you can see from these photos from the NEXT night, where he is getting settled in our bed.

But he also gets very enthusiastic about food, and his claws are getting pretty long and sharp.

It’s maybe possibly not helped by me, encouraging him, and cuddling with him. Admittedly most nights since the first, Ron has come to bed and had to move the cat from his spot.

Since then, I have told Ron’s family about it, who all want me to have the cat because they know how much I want one, and gave me all the possible ways about how it might be homeless and need me to care for it, and basically they got in my head and I started fucking FEEDING him.

So now he’s coming by earlier during the day and leaving later and he keeps butting his damn head against me looking for pats and it’s so fucking CUTE and he has the most high pitched meow.

A couple of nights ago I was having a bad day and Ron wasn’t home and I had cereal for dinner, and no food left for the cat, and I got super stressed out about him clearly waiting for food and reaching for my bowl so I put him outside and closed our bedroom window. When Ron joined me in bed later that night I told him and said I felt really bad but also less stressed about this cat that wasn’t mine, and he was like “hmmm the cold front’s supposed to start tonight” and I got so guilty and stressed about the cat that I couldn’t relax until we heard him jump in from the bathroom window lmaooo.

I have since talked to some neighbours, and the next step is to get him scanned/take him to the vet to see if he’s microchipped. If he is, I’ll contact the owner and talk to them about what’s going on. If he’s not, I’m adopting him and spending my month’s salary on cat things.

Also, I’ve nicknamed him Boof. Because he likes to boof his head against me and also because he is clearly a boofhead.

And EVERYONE who even slightly knows me knows I’ve been dying to have a pet, especially a cat, but I’ve been waiting till the new year to make sure I’m ready and financially stable enough. And out of nowhere this cat starts just forcing his way into our lives. About a week after I bonded with Boof, I was explaining the situation to one of Ron’s friends in the car on the way to dinner, and said how I’d been wanting a cat for so long and suddenly this one appears, and Ron interrupted me to say “you didn’t manifest this cat” and I’m like “but I think I MANIFESTED THIS CAT”

If I do end up taking him in, we’ll be modifying the house so he can’t get outside without a leash or something anymore, and I’ll be doing everything I can to make sure he’s still properly stimulated at home. We live on a busy intersection so there’s no alternative for me. If we do find an owner, I will sadly but earnestly ask them to try to keep him inside from now on, not only for his safety from traffic, but also because I don’t want the responsibility of something happening to him while he’s with me and he’s not mine.

I’ll update y’all as we go. But whatever happens, I feel very blessed to have met and bonded with Boof.

#ramblings #non fandom #long post #alloverthecamera

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leviathanverse · 5 months

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Chapter 9: Fainting again. Nice

You stared at the floor, hands fiddling with one another. You were sweating, brain panicking from possibly getting fired.

It was even worse when all the caretakers stood next to your boss, Kagaya. Not to mention Claire was there.

You wanted to tell them that you didn't know how you even got into that enclosure in the first place. You were confused yourself.

" Mrs. Y/n? Can you explain why you were in paddock 3?"

You heard Mr. Kagaya speak. He didn't sound mad or anything. Same couldn't be said for the other people.

" I-I don't know why I was in there..."

" She stuttered! She's lying!"

Salami yelled. You covered your ears when he yelled. Why did you have sensitive ears? They really hurt when someone yelled.

" Keep your voice down, Shinagazawa. Mrs. Y/n seems to have sensitive ears."

" Thank-"

" Don't talk! You don't have the right to talk in the middle of your possible departure!"

You kept your mouth shut. You felt bad, ashamed for somehow ending up in paddock 3.

" Gyomei? Do you want to start on hearing from her side of the story?"

" I do. We can't accuse her of something she possibly has no idea about."

You didn't lift your head up. You didn't want make them angrier than they were already. Maybe except Shinobu. She looked nice.

" Look when we speak to you."

You lifted your head, but did not utter a word. They didn't say if you could speak or not. That made you even more scared.

" How did you end up in paddock 3?"

" I... I don't know..."

" What do you mean you don't know?"

The one with a lot of jewelry asked. He clearly looked like a flashy person. If it were not for your current situation.

" Do you remember anything? You were passed out when I entered to feed the Utahraptor."

" Well... um..."

Their gazes were sharp. And it made you feel uncomfortable.

" What are we doing again?"

" Seeing whether or not to fire her."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you pondered on how to explain it. You really weren't sure. How did they not notice it?!

" I... I woke up in the medical wing... and... Mrs. Shinobu asked me to feed the Spinosaurus-"

" Shinobu!"

" Myself and Kanao had to attend something. I asked Y/n to help me out a bit."

You felt horrible. Not only did you somehow get in trouble on the first day, but so did Shinobu.

" Go on."

" I... I did as asked and fed the Spinosaurus... I was about to leave when a guy asked me questions. I asked if I could leave and he didn't answer. Next thing I know, I was pushed into the enclosure."

" That doesn't- wait. You were in paddock 2 with Douma?!"

" Ye-"

" How are you alive?!"

You felt your throat tighten. Your eyes widened as you processed those words. You were supposed to be dead.

You felt like you were going to faint. You were going to faint again. You felt the familiar feeling of going to faint.

" I... I don't kn-"

" AGAIN?!"

" This isn't good."

" Shit! She fainted again!"

" Language, my children."

" Sorry, boss."

You fainted. You finally fainted again. Not the second time, but the third time fainting. Life really loved making you suffer.

Fate and Destiny really hated you, didn't they? Maybe their sister, Karma, would join in on their evil plans.

For now, you were going to float in the darkness until you were conscious again.

Previous <-•-> Next

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nokingsonlyfooles · 8 months

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WTYP: The Shandor Building, Part 4

[Do you like the colour of the fanfic? This is long and if you expand it you're gonna get the whole thing, because Tumblr hates you. Don't say I didn't warn you!]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Part 4: Freaky Shit

[Beware of strong language, mention of all kinds of death, gore, and Lovecraftian horror.]

[On the current slide, the Activate Windows logo has changed to read “All Hail Gozer” and remains that way for the rest of the episode.]

R: Might be some firmware… What the hell was that?

A: Oh, that’s just the Tumblr app, it came preinstalled…

L: Cursed phone.

A: Yeah, pretty much…

R: No, out in the hallway. Looked like a dog.

L [charmed again]: Aww. Where?

A: Sorry, hang on, got another “ask”…

R: I’ll be right back.

[scraping sound, footsteps, door opening and closing]

A [amused]: “Choose the form of your destroyer.” Oh, that’s cute. What should I say…?

L: “Death by Chocolate.” No, wait. “Snoopy.”

A [typing]: T-H-A-T… A-S-S… Ohh. [annoyed] Where’s the peach emoji on this thing? These are all symbols from the Lesser Key of Solomon…

L: That one looks kinda like an ass.

A: I think it’s a minor Duke of Hell. Still, you’re not wrong…

[door opening and closing]

R [nonplussed]: It’s, uh, it’s not a dog.

A: What is it?

R: It’s a gargoyle. Or a grotesque. Like the ones on the front of the building. There’s two of ‘em, actually.

L: Do they want tummy rubs, Rocz? If they want tummy rubs, they are dogs. And if you touch their tummy and die, they’re cats. This is science!

R: I have no idea if they want tummy rubs. …I fed one a doughnut.

L: Aww.

A: That can’t be good for it.

R: I dunno. They were in the break room eating the doughnuts, so I assume they eat doughnuts.

L: Rocz, I eat Wawa hoagies, and they are definitely not good for me.

A: A duck will go to town on some bread, but you’re not supposed to feed it to them.

R: He took it right outta my hand and said “Hail Gozer,” which makes me wonder if Milkshake and Pizza Boy could’ve spoken English to me, if they really wanted…

L: Dear God, you need a human roommate…

A: Frozen peas.

L: Pardon?

A: I’ve seen a GIF of it, you’re supposed to feed the ducks frozen peas. The truly terrifying thing is, by the time they’re done eating, the water is just filthy. They look cute, but I wouldn’t want one to bite me.

R: I’m not gonna tell a gargoyle it’s supposed to eat frozen peas.

A: I suppose not if you don’t want it to bite you.

L: “It”? Did you ask them their pronouns, Rocz?

R: I didn’t, but… They seemed busy.

A: Eating the doughnuts?

R: Yes. Also, opening some kinda gateway.

A [hesitantly]: I think I’ll… delete that post. Yes.

L: Any difference in the meat bouquet?

R: It’s kinda… singing? I guess? Kind of a howling noise.

A: Oh, like the portal.

L: Dang it, I was hoping for salami.

R: Alice, have you involved us in the summoning of a dark god or is the building just making us crazy?

L: Crazy isn’t this cool or fun, Rocz.

A: Yes, it’s much more… It’s just rather depressing. It’s terrifying, I’ll grant you terrifying, but not in a way that gets you a new iPhone…

[door slams]

D [in the studio, approaching the mics]: Oh, fuck, oh, shit…

D [text over slide]: THAT’S ME.

L: Hey, Dev. We’ll get back on topic in a sec and I swear this one won’t go over an hour…

R: I don’t know about that.

A: What’s going on?

D: My awesome state-of-the-art control room is filling up with pink slime — to the point where I can’t even reach any of the buttons!

R [relieved]: Oh, thank God.

D: …and it’s all over my fucking shoes!

[squeaking, squelching]

L: Sounds like Vigo the Carpathian again.

A: Oh, just Vigo.

L: Want me to deal with him? I’ll deal with him. He’s a little bitch. I’ve already had Vigo, I’m immune.

A [bored]: We’ve all had Vigo.

R: He’s like covid.

L: Yeah, he won’t bump you off unless you’re already sick. Or a Republican.

R: But you repeat yourself.

L: Yeah.

A [brightly]: You know that time I embarrassed myself on social media? That was definitely Vigo and not me!

R: I thought maybe you took an Ambien.

A: Wait, which time are you thinking of?

L: Vigo the Carpathian got me banned from Twitter.

R: We are, all of us, Vigo, at all times.

A: How dare you hold us responsible for our actions.

D [mournfully]: There’s a really cool audio mixer in there and I didn’t even get a chance to try it!

L: Give me two seconds, I’ll deal with him…

D: …I even had a button I could press to drop boiling lava on you if you got off-topic, but I didn’t use it because I’m a merciful God.

A [consolingly]: Well, that’s very sensitive of you, Dev. Thank you. Really.

D: Liam, get me my lava button back. I need that lava button! It’s all I’ve ever wanted as an editor and a human being!

L: Don’t even worry about it!

[door opens, howling noise, door slams]

L: It’s not Vigo.

R: Aw, crap.

A: Who is it?

L: It’s a guy, or… I’m not sure. Kinda in between.

R: Could still be Vigo.

D: Yeah, just in someone nonbinary.

A: Describe them.

[door opens, howling noise, door slams]

L: …Hot?

A: You mean as in sexy or on fire?

L: Both, kinda.

R: Definitely not Vigo.

[muttering, general agreement]

A: Now, I… I… I’m just guessing, but…Does this person happen to resemble, um, a minor Duke of Hell? With a nice ass?

L: I’m not looking again, Alice, they’re almost at the…

[snapping noise, explosion, thuds and raining debris, howling noise increases]

L: Ow! Fuck!

R [raises voice to be heard above the howling]: Hey! Hey! That was uncalled-for, sir, or madam, or whatever! And my friend wants their control room back!

D [faintly]: Oh, God, stop making that noise! I’ll never be able to edit that out in post!

GOZER THE GOZERIAN (G): ARE YOU A GOD?

R: No.

A [horrified]: What the fuck, Rocz?

L: Didn’t you even read the Wikipedia page for this?

R [weakly]: It was Alice’s pick.

A: APPARENTLY IT WAS GOZER THE GOZERIAN’S PICK!

L: Here! [scraping noise, typing] There! It’s right there! Under “1984 New York Incident.” Read it!

G: ARE ANY OF YOU GODS?

R: Hang on a second, there, Gozer. I’m just gonna need a couple minutes…

Part 5

#wtyp #well there's your problem #ghostbusters #long reads #fanfic #fanfiction #crossover fic #gozer the gozerian #alice caldwell-kelly #liam anderson #justin roczniak #devon #engineering disasters #podcast

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aliterarydumpsterfire · 1 year

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The Craving

“Hello, Sterling. I am Detective Mason, thank you for sitting down with me today. Let’s get right into it. I understand they call you ‘the Baker’.”

Mason set down a glass of water in front of his subject at the table and met his eyes. He made sure the other was watching as he hit the ‘stop’ button on the recording device and nonchalantly sat in the chair opposite of his detainee.

The Baker snorted at him.

“What’s so funny?”

“Do all your witnesses fall for that trick, you turning off a tape recorder?”

The detective shrugged. “It was worth a shot.” It really was. Never know when a witness could pop just with a little theatrics.

“I’ll help you take out a bit of guesswork for you here, then.” The Baker’s thumb knuckle rapped against the metal table with obnoxious confidence. “I know there’s at least two other devices rigged in the walls here for recording. Your little theater magic may work on bank robbers…” He reached into his coat pocket, producing a toothpick which he stuck between his teeth and continued on. “… but I’m not a bank robber. I’m a partner of luxury heist enterprises.” There was a self satisfied twitch of the pick at the corners of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but perhaps a smug grimace.

Detective Mason grinned and leaned forward with an eager glint in his eye. “As a reminder, I have the privilege of extending to you total anonymity.”

“So I’ve been told.” The Baker’s tapping persisted. The digit was one bone short, making it an oddly incomplete stub of a thumb and only adding to the curiosity of the man’s absentminded tic. Mason’s dossier was filled with observations of the man, like the one about the toothpicks, too. For someone apparently so interested in everything high class, Sterling Oates had strange little oddities that told a different story.

“So… how exactly did you pull off that heist?”

The tapping slowed, and the Baker’s mouth really did turn into a smile then. “Do you like cheese, son?”

“Cheese?” A signature topic for the Baker, according to the notes. “You heard me.” The tapping resumed.

“Sure, sure, I like cheese.” The detective answered. The dossier had warned that Oates would probably talk about food. No one was ever sure if it was some kind of riddle or what, but the man loved food, and all that took was one look at him. Sterling Oates was… robust. One of the reasons why he couldn’t possibly have pulled off the grab at the museum by himself.

“I bet you’re a Swiss kind of guy.” It wasn’t a question.

Mason spread his hands up in resignation. “Guilty as charged.” This was going to take a while. Every fatcat liked his ego pet before giving up some information. Gotta play the game.

“Me, I’m more of a ragusano man.” He dug in his teeth for a moment with the pick and gave a satisfied grunt as he examined the pick and stuck it back into his mouth. “With a beautiful salami on a fresh ciabatta roll? Mmph.” His eyes rolled in appreciation at the thought, apparently. “Come into my shop on a Wednesday and I’ll serve it to you myself.”

Mason’s stomach protested to think of the same thing. Lunch was too far away and the witness was already planning Second Breakfast. He opened the dossier on the table and flicked out a print to Oates. “You know these guys?”

Oates pushed one of his chins forward, eyeing the photo with feigned disinterest. “Meunster guy, Cheddar guy, Colby Jack guy, and Lactose Intolerant guy.” He shrugged noncommittally. “I’ve seen ‘em.”

Mason flicked out another print, this one showing the guards waving in a catering truckload of suspects. “How’d you get past security?”

“I fed them.”

“Without credentials?”

“It’s all about the food. No one does well on an empty stomach, kid.”

“You’re telling me that’s how you’re involved? You feed them.” Mason repeated, letting the annoyance creep into his voice as he stood.

“Everyone needs to eat!” A couple of the Baker’s chins quivered.

Mason pushed another photo towards him. This one was a little tougher to fit into the puzzle. “We know this was stolen from the museum. What’s in the crate?” The wooden box in the photo was carried by Meunster, and Colby Jack guy.

“I don’t ask questions, Spook. I bake things, I feed people. Asking questions isn’t what I’m hired for.”

“Come on, Sterling, we both know that’s not true.”

The Baker sighed. “It’s Serbian. Imported. Very rare…. “ Perhaps Mason was finally going to get a real answer afterall. “… Pule. Donkey’s milk made ambrosia.” The Baker sighed another obnoxiously satisfied sigh.

The detective blinked. “You’re talking about cheese again.” … this was not the answer he was hoping for.

“But of course! You think I have any interest in old museum junk? You know how hard it is to import this stuff?” He snapped back at Mason. “It takes nearly seven gallons of milk to make 2 pounds of cheese!”

“You’re telling me you broke into National Gallery for cheese.”

It was the Baker’s turn to spread his hands in defeat. “Look buddy, I don’t know what you want from me. I feed people. Sometimes it’s the best food they’ve ever eaten, sometimes it’s laced with drugs to make them go nighty-night. Sometimes people just bring me along for the ride because I bring heist snacks.”

As if to illustrate his point he produced a deli sandwich wrapped in butcher paper from his jacket pocket. Despite his revulsion, Mason’s stomach once again reminded him how far away lunch was. The Baker’s revelation could nearly be believed, if he was now mowing down as a form of stress eating. It wasn’t the worst theory.

Mason pulled his chair out so he could straddle it backwards and settled onto it, crossing his forearms casually. “Ok, Sterling. Tell me why this cheese.”

Sterling Oates, the Baker of London laughed heartily. Mason’s confusion deepened as the man’s hooting laughter shook his belly and tears started to sprout from the corner of his eyes. Several moments passed as the roaring amusement continued… Mason wondered if he had missed something in the dossier… maybe his witness was a little cracked.

After long last the guffaws came under control. “Oh, Squirt, if I know one thing in this life, it’s ‘happy wife, happy life’.” He wiggled his stump of a thumb at Mason, and the detective raised his brow quizzically, now at a complete loss.

The Baker gave another hoot of amusement and leaned forward confidingly. “I’ll do a lot of things to keep the Missus happy, you see.”

Maybe it was time to add a note about the witness’s stability. “What’s this got to do with donkey cheese?” “It’s pule,” the Baker corrected. He wiped away some moisture from his eyes, suppressing another wave of chuckles. “You see… my wife has cravings.”

#flash fiction #flashfic

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orange-waterfalls · 4 years

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Cat!Reader? Cat!Reader.

ty anon for the request!

A/N: Listen. Listen. Just... They would all love you! That’s it! That’s the whole post. You can leave. no don’t i worked hard on this uhhhhhh i only did 5! bc... it was not specific... and i couldn’t really do much here... but i like this. You are A Cat. That is literally it. i think it’s cute. Dark, Wilford, Yancy, Illinois, Magnum are the egos. so basically the egos in AHWM. uhhhh rated G! Because the worst word i say is piss. I think that’s everything. This one’s pretty boring but also very soft so I think it makes up for it. Enjoy!

Asks/Requests are open!

Cat!reader w/ some egos

Darkiplier is worried. What the hell happened to you? Why were you a cat? Did you piss off a wizard or what? Since you can’t really answer any of his questions, he decides to just… vibe, really. He pets you, he plays with you, gives you scritches, normal things people do with cats. He doesn’t even really mind that you’re his friend and he might regret this when you turn back to normal. You’re cute, that’s all there is to it. He doesn’t know what to feed you so he just gives you a whole can of tuna. He later looks it up and realizes maybe that wasn’t the best idea. He keeps a close eye on you to make sure you won’t like… keel over and die or something. He does the “pspsps” thing at you and is happily surprised when you actually respond by running over to him. He is ELATED you are so CUTE. He decides to cuddle you when he goes to sleep, and he sleeps much better than he had in awhile. When he wakes up in the morning, you are no longer a cat. Subsequently, he is now cuddling human-you. In his bed. And you may or may not be naked. He gently squirms out of bed, as to not make you uncomfortable. He leaves a hoodie and some sweatpants by the bed for when you wake up. When you do wake up, he asks you if you remember everything from the day before. You do, but you save him the embarrassment by saying you don’t. You do tease him sometimes by going “pspsps” when he walks by.

Wilford loves you. You are small, you are adorable, you are soft. You are also a cat at this point, but whatever. He’d like to know how you got to be this lil baby that you are, but soon gets distracted from that because HOLY LORD YOU’RE ADORABLE. He immediately goes out and buys a lil collar with bells for you, to keep track of you in your small form. He spends most of the day just watching you, seeing what you do. You did normal cat things, and he began to wonder if you really were… well… you. Once you took a nap, and he woke you so you could eat. You trilled at him and he jumped off the ground a little in pure joy. He fed you only the BEST food. Meaning he fed you turkey slices and salami. He bought you a tiny sweater and made you wear it. You just… let it happen, really. At night, you snuggled up on his chest. He was so happy for someone who couldn’t breathe. He woke up before you and saw that you were a person again. He was a little sad, he wouldn’t lie. The tiny sweater was just sitting at the foot of the bed. He sat next to you and waited for you to wake up. When you did wake, he shoved some clothes in your face and told you “we’re getting a cat!”. You sighed, not really in a position to argue.

Yancy is confused. Why were you a cat? How did you turn into a cat? Do people just turn into cats nowadays? In any case, he stays away from you, mostly. Doesn’t want to hurt you. You look very fragile, he doesn’t want anything to happen to you. However, you are a cat, and are very curious. You know how the saying goes. He has to keep a close eye on you to make sure you don’t do anything you’re not supposed to. Such as: eat plastic, climb a tree, eat plastic, eat grasshoppers, eat plastic-WHY DO YOU KEEP EATING PLASTIC? Eventually he just decides to swaddle you in a blanket so you can’t move. That ends with you screaming in your little cat voice and him nearly crying before letting you go. He also gives you turkey as a treat because he feels bad. He tried to stay awake to keep an eye on you, but fell asleep in his chair. He woke up startled by the fact that he’d fallen asleep. He was also pretty sore. More importantly: oh god where did you go? He panicked, yelling your name while looking around. He found you asleep in your bed and sighed. He sat in a chair nearby and waited for you to wake up. When you did wake up he saw that you were… not wearing clothes… and coughed while looking away. He stuttered an excuse and left the room, blushing profusely. You smiled and got dressed.

Illinois is unfazed. Not the most normal of things to happen to people he knows, definitely not the weirdest. He’s more surprised that it didn’t happen on an adventure with him. Were you cursed? He knew a thing or two about curses. While attempting to figure it out, he realized that you were a cat. Like, just a cat. Like a “I will knock down every item above 2 feet from the ground” cat. You started knocking down objects he’d kept from adventures. Most were very sturdy, but a select few were very fragile. He caught most of them, but you were just too small and agile. He glared at you as he angrily swept up the pieces of broken artifacts from the floor. He sulked about it for a while, before you hopped in his lap and got comfy. He gave you a little smile before petting you as you napped. He fed you actual cat food he’d bought from the store, because he is a responsible pet owner. He also bought a feather toy for you to play with. He knew this wasn’t a very smart investment, but screw you, he was a grown man who could spend his money how he wanted. He laid down to sleep that night and you curled up onto a pillow right next to his ear. The purring was very soothing for him and he fell asleep quickly. In the morning, he was greeted with your face right in front of him. He smirked, seeing an opportunity in hand. He cleared his throat, and woke you up. Your eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to tease you. You stopped him by whacking him in the face with a pillow. You walked away to find some clothes while he laughed.

Magnum is entertained. Now, what the hell’d you do to get yourself turned into a feline? Piss off a sorcerer? Piss off a god? Piss of Davy Jones himself? He didn’t know, but he had a good time thinking about it. However, the sea is not the best place for a cat such as yourself. He restricted you to his cabin so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. He checked on you every 10 minutes to make sure you hadn’t slipped away somehow. Once you got past him and onto the deck. The crew panicked and jumped away, as to not accidentally step on you. Magnum caught up to you and you meowed(screamed) at him repeatedly. He picked you up and held you to his face and asked “What do ye WANT, child?!” He then realized that you might be hungry, and caught some fish for you to eat. He then sat in the room for a few minutes(half an hour) just watching you dancing around, thinking you were the cutest thing he’d ever seen. At night, he doesn’t usually sleep. However, considering you had already cuddled up at his feet, he couldn’t exactly move. So he just went to sleep in his chair. You woke before him in the morning(he hadn’t slept in a while) and changed into some clothes a crew member lent you. He panicked in the cabin, not knowing where you went. He slammed the door open and saw you chatting with the crew. He sighed, relieved, and went back into his cabin to sleep.

#markiplier egos x reader #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #darkiplier x you #darkiplier x reader #wilford warfstache x you #wilford warfstache x reader #captain magnum #captain magnum x reader #captain magnum x you #yancyiplier #yancy x reader #yancy x you #illinois jones #illinois x reader #illinois x you #x reader #x you

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strangerays · 3 years

Text

Nothing in Particular Update #2

It’s the Nothing and Particular and Everything update part two: the electric booglaloo. This one is long, so strap in.

It’s been a while since I wrote an update for this story. To be honest, this one gave me a lot of stress, but here I am! Writing this story feels like it is going very slow. I keep telling myself I’ve made a lot of progress (which is true, I have) but for some reason it doesn’t feel like I have? This is likely just my own insecurity. To be frank, I can’t believe I’m still writing this story. If you had told me in February that I’d still be writing this when the weather got warm, I would have laughed.

I am SO excited that I will finally be able to focus on writing now that I’m out of school. I’m afraid to speak the rough deadline that I’ve given myself for this story (the end of August-early September) but now that I’ve spoken it into existence, I hope I can finish! (I hope I can stop watching dumb videogame playthroughs and listening to The Magnus Archives and get something done)

Here is a link to the story introduction and previous update!

TAGLIST (ask to be +/-); @wannabeauthorzofija @a-completely-normal-writer @baguettethebooklover @corkytheguar @writeherewaiting

STORY CHANGES/THOUGHTS/IDEAS:

Here is a big one: I’ve been trying to write this story for myself. I started writing Ray’s story from a place that was personal to me, but I feel like, as that part of myself has begun to heal, I’ve started to think about what a reader would want out of the story. I’m realizing that this is my story so it has to be what I want. Drafts are drafts for a reason, so I’m going to try to get better at letting myself explore what is fun to me.

I always thought I was a discovery writer (I still sort of think I am) but as I’ve finished small sections of the story, I am finding that it’s very helpful to do a rough outline of scenes in upcoming chapters. (I also recommend turning to this if something doesn’t work and you need to retrace your steps!) Just helps me feel more organized!

Jude’s character has got to be one of the most difficult personalities I’ve ever written. Putting her beside Ray just makes it harder. Where Ray is secretive and keeps to herself, Jude is ready to unpack her entire life’s story to anyone. I find that I really have to slow down when writing their interactions. I know this is going to be nowhere near perfect in the first draft, but I think it is a main contributor to my slow writing.

I really like this little narrative I’ve created in the background of the main plot with Ray and Lonan. I love writing these scenes because it’s a way for me to use Lonan when he’s not actively with Ray and to show why Ray is predetermined about things at certain points. Also I love their friendship so much <3

CONGRATULATIONS TO ME on starting to read again because I forgot how much of a help reading other people’s stories can be when you’re struggling with your own oml

I now have a set timeline for the story! Takes place ~4-5 months.

I did that thing where you write a letter from the characters’ perspectives and that was kind of fun

Also just for fun I thought I’d add in that I spent an hour and a half last week filling up a page in my sketchbook with diagrams of the plot. It feels good to be a mad scientist

EXCERPTS UNDER THE CUT!

*At this point, I’m only sharing writing that I am really proud of in order not to spoil the story! This is because I am unsure whether I want to publish this story someday. With that said, that does NOT give you permission to steal my ideas!

CHAPTER: NIGHT CRIES

In the last week of summer, I did everything I could to avoid post-vacation blues. I rode my bike along the gravel roads with no destination, wore my dark sunglasses to people-watch, and fed salami to the minnows that floated on the cusps of boulders. Usually, I sat still for so long that my elbows turned a deep shade of red and the blood in my toes buzzed.

New pockets seemed to open up in Point Blink every day. And with them, came new people. Most of them were older – a middle aged woman who caked her lipstick on, an uncle estranged from his brother, a couple who had miscarried. I hadn’t forgotten about the kids at Mothouse. It was impossible not to think about them. It wasn’t just that I’d never seen them before.

The girl’s limp cigarette bled a trail of smoke that seeped into my Vans. My shirt folded like skin over my bed post. Haunted the room – foiled my mauve sheets and teased my locks. Swept the curtains apart and heated the oak floor. Beams of moonlight leapt to my bookcases; highlighted the posters from various podcasts and bands that I listened to. Wind whistled when I was too still. She forced me to look outside, onto the dark cul-de-sac lit by the reflections of forming rain puddles. No matter whether I sat at my desk or burrowed under my sheets, I felt out of place. She made my bedroom louder. She made my bedroom quieter.

I decided it would probably be best if I never saw her again.

To be honest, I don’t remember much about writing this chapter because it was over a month ago (sorry) but I’m still quite happy with the prose! This comes in after Ray sees Jude for the first time at Mothouse. Based on a first impression, decides that she might want be friends with Jude.

CHAPTER: SORRY

If you spend any long amount of time with someone, you’ll become a thief to their behaviors. If I stared long enough, trees began to replace all of the people we’d ever seen. Oaks had roots that serpentined the ground like children splashing in the bay, pines with needles like spindly old hands, maples with hollows like watchful eyes – all things Lonan had taught me to observe.

CHAPTER: GHOSTS

Then there was the sea – violent and knowing as it romped within bays and alcoves. She had eaten me many times before, both my father and Lonan too. Gulped them as if they were shining plastic wrappings left behind after a meal. I spited her for inviting me once again. I reached up again to grapple with the next rung. It twisted and offered a low whistle.

In these two chapters, Ray is on a photography trip with her class. This is the first time she’s been on this annual trip without Lonan. She left that morning with a goal of being independent and learning to get on with one of the only people she has felt close to. I realize now that the Ghost excerpt sort of sounds like her dad and Lonan have drowned?? Which was not my intention??

CHAPTER: A DIVINE INTERVENTION

“Do you believe in ghosts?” A raspy voice teased from behind me. Cigarette smoke tickled the words, like they were stuck together with jelly inside of her. The question wasn’t particularly calming, but it strengthened my grip on reality. As if the foiled leaves, bark, and dandelions had sprung from the ground and begun to float, they came crashing back down.

I was made of stone.

“I’m not a ghost,” Jude said. “If I was, a ladder would be a pretty counteractive way to outrun me. I could just float up there and haunt you.”

“Maybe you’re a ghost,” she asked, her voice distant.

I shifted my grasp up and down the sides of the ladder. “What?”

“Don’t you believe in ghosts?”

I was reading back some of Ray and Jude’s conversation and there are so many snippets of dialogue that make me laugh because I totally forgot I wrote them... but UGhhH I don’t know if I want to share them because I don’t know whether or not I want to try and publish the story someday. Speaking of that, it’s sort of because it’s so personal to me? I don’t know (this is for future me to pursue) Honestly though, reading these back has made me really happy :)

I wanted to shake her by the shoulders. She acted as though Point Blink could breathe – as though corpses in the cemetery might pull the grass away like dead skin, neighbors would draw blades, and blood-salt would stain her clothes rather than that from the sea. “Trust me, they’ll forgive you. But, I’m just saying, most people around here don’t care nearly as much as you think so. Most of them are way older anyways, so they’re tired of us.”

“Is that you complimenting yourself?” Jude asked.

“Not intentionally,” I said, “but I will take it.”

She laughed. “You shouldn’t be so nice to strangers.”

I wasn’t trying to be. I just didn’t think I wanted her to dislike me.

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing or a good thing,” Jude said. “Being good gets you tucked into a thousand different memories. Being good makes you live a lifetime.”

I almost laughed, but then I wondered what I was to her now. “I don’t talk to lots of people.”

“Sometimes there aren’t many people to talk to. But I thought you would have loads of friends.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I thought you would too.”

Alarm like grief lit her eyes, but she laughed. I did too.

“You hardly know me,” she said quietly.

Then the girls explore some old newspapers and letters in a fire tower! Spooky fun!

CHAPTER: YOU LET THIS HAPPEN

This isn’t a major spoiler as it’s literally in the blurb I wrote, but Ray and Jude are caught (targeted..??) in a fire. Ray is brought back to a field where she is questioned.

CHAPTER: NOTHING HAPPENS

He was quiet for several moments while he painted a picture with what little details I had given him, then said, “It’s unfair. I think that’s why it hurts.”

“Because we almost got hurt?”

“No. Because it came true.”

His gentle, ragged voice made me think I could tell him anything. Sometimes, I think that, even then, he knew I left something out.

Ray talks to Lonan after the fire... She’s being a bit dishonest about what actually happened.

CHAPTER: WHY NOT

I remember how the barest amount of red light glared across Lonan’s entire scalp and washed his boyish curls magenta from the roots out. When Jude leaned back on the counter, she melded into the darkness.

This chapter is just part of the narrative that I created with Ray and Lonan’s friendship. There isn’t much I want to spoil from it, but I liked this paragraph!

CHAPTER: INEVITABLE

“We didn’t do anything,” I said.

“Someone did. Why won’t you believe me?”

“I think I would remember whether or not someone was there with us,” I said, “even if we didn’t have the picture.”

This was untrue. I hung lots of photos in my room. A long time would pass before I went to a restaurant again, or a specific coven on one of the beaches, or an outfit that I wore, and I would look into one of my pictures and remember it, and then I would be quite angry with myself that I had almost forgotten that thing forever.

“I don’t think you understand what I mean,” Jude said. I didn’t like the way she’d lowered her voice. She sounded different every time I saw her. She reached out her arm so our photos were side by side and our fingers were almost touching. “I don’t think you want to.”

Ray finds herself alone in the school’s dark room with Jude. Based on the contents of one of her photos, she tries to convince Ray that there is more to the fire than what meets the eye.

CHAPTER: (this one is untitled)

I didn’t mind that he followed me everywhere. Even when he was quiet, I didn’t find it strange to be around him. We sat silently through films and went on walks. Once, he had fallen asleep while watching The Iron Giant in my bed. I didn’t know if I should wake him up once it ended. I tried not to stare at him. He’d rolled onto his side and bundled himself in one of my blankets covered in stars up to his shoulders so only his small face poked out like a baby owl’s. His soft breath messed his dirty gold coils. They were at their longest. Except for the ebbing light from a candle on my desk, my house was asleep – Lonan needed to go home.

For the first time, I wondered if anyone cared where he was.

Another small part of the little friendship narrative! (This really is the part of the story where I get nostalgic for my childhood, isn’t it) Ray starts to discover more about Lonan’s home life in this part of the story, but there’s not much that I think I want to reveal about that for now.

CHAPTER: THE CRUX OF IT

Why did I feel so paranoid? I found myself staring out the window, into the film of blue that the late sun shown onto the grass and trying to remember what summer felt like.

My main problem was that I didn’t know how to talk to Jude unless it was about Sugarfell. I ran from the hush of cigarette smoke behind closing doors and heard her loud voice in conversations. Even though there might have still been a part of me that wanted to be friends with her, I didn’t have much to base that feeling off of. I could have spent hours clicking the little pieces of her that I had together, but the crux of it was that I would never know Jude unless I forced myself to.

For some reason, that really scared me.

I spent all week trying to think of what to say to her. By Friday afternoon, I still had nothing.

I left off writing with Ray actively avoiding Jude’s little investigation into the arsonist. Ray doesn’t want to be involved in this because she feels that it will throw her sense of normalcy off course. She really just wants to learn how to adapt to a life without her best friend. (It doesn’t help that she’s got fresh trauma)

What will Ray decide? I don’t know. We shall see. (just kidding I know)

Sorry this update was longer! I think I would like to start updating more often than once a month just because they would be shorter and those of you reading this won’t forget what happened in the last update. There are thousands and thousands of words that didn’t show up in this update because - like I said - I don’t know whether I want to publish this story ever?? I’ll probably talk more about this in a separate update.

Thank you so much to those of you who read about my story! I hope you enjoy it!

p.s. btw I now have a myWriteClub account! You can check it out here and stalk me as I tragically fail my writing goals!

#ffs writing this update was like throwing a boulder into a lake #there was so much I wanted to share #it's really difficult to decide what to share as sometimes a paragraph that I'm really proud of will be really spoilery #I can only imagine this will be more and more difficult as I get further into the story #ANYWAYS #I feel like I'm really beginning to see who my characters are <3 #I feel like a proud mother #To be honest #I kind of hated Jude in the beginning #but now I feel like Ray hates her too so that makes me like her #haha im so mean #tune in next time for a Sapphic spy date

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a-chrome-disguise · 3 years

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@eternalr0ses

As morning began to rise on Rose's birthday, Cyrus crept out of bed, carefully, so as not to wake his partner. He headed into the kitchen, and placed a few treats in the bowls of both Hilda and Pooka. A bribe, in case one of them - more likely Hilda, he presumed - decided to fetch Rose and complain that Cyrus had not fed them. He retrieved his phone, and pulled up the page he needed, then set to work.

About twenty minutes later, he returned upstairs again, a small plate in one hand, and a mug of tea in the other. He placed the mug on Rose's bedside table, and gave his partner a gentle shake awake to present him with his surprise breakfast.

On the plate was what looked like a sliced salami, except instead of being red in colour, it was brown, coated in sugar, and smelt of chocolate.

#rp #eternalr0ses #BIRTH

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grilledcheeseandguavajelly · 4 years

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36. 38. - Billie x Allyson

36. What’s their greatest strength as a couple? Their weakness?

Their greatest strength is communication.

But because of this they tend to argue a lot.

It’s never anything big, and it always works out in the end.

Their biggest weakness, unfortunately, is Oz.

Billie’s not great with kids. As much as she tries and as much as she actually is great with kids, she doesn’t think she’s good with them.

And try as Ally might, she doesn’t sit super comfortably with Billie being a medium and also alone with her son. Not after everything he’s been through.

When Ally needs someone to pick Oz up from school or stay with him while she works late, Billie always offers if she’s not working.

Ally always kind of brushes her off, and Billie tries not to let it bother her.

But after the fourteenth time or so, it starts manifesting as Ally not trusting her, and that sets Billie on edge.

Like I said, communication is their strength, so they inevitably discuss it. But this is a big one, vulnerable for both of them.

It’s Ally’s son, and Billie knows she has no right to push.

And it’s Billie’s gift, which Ally knows she has no right to question. And she has no way of explaining that that’s what is making her hesitate without Billie inevitably getting upset. Because she can’t help it.

So those conversations always go half-formed, never really dug into and never really settled.

There was one day when Ally forgot she had a Very Important Meeting and was rushing to make it on time. All three of her sitters had fallen through and she knew Billie had only been filming in the morning.

So she caved, and she called.

And as nervous as Billie was, as much as she wanted to say no now that the situation was actually here and she was confronted with the fact that she would have to keep Oz entertained for hours until Ally got home, she swallowed her insecurity and said yes.

Ally had thrown some casual instructions at her on how to keep him entertained —

“Just put on a movie and make him macaroni, I’ll do his homework with him once I’m home”

— and Billie had tried not to let it offend her.

The drive home from school had been a bit awkward, but once they got to Ally’s house and Billie took Oz’s backpack from him, things had settled down.

He was an easy kid, and he seemed to like Billie a lot.

And Billie realized, after he had said he was hungry and followed her into the kitchen with wide eyes to watch her prepare his snack, that he was curious. Just like she had been when she was little.

He just wanted to watch the world work and absorb everything that he could.

So she let him sit up on the counter and watch her cut up cheese and salami. Asked him about his day. Explained everything she was doing, step by step.

And they just talked.

He seemed to find her interesting, and Billie realized about an hour in that he liked her.

So she relaxed and went full mom mode, and by the time Ally got home his homework was finished and he was bathed and fed and put to bed.

She was 100% the cool mom, and Oz was more than willing to do whatever she asked, not even giving her trouble when she told him he had to cut his TV time short and go get ready for bed.

And Ally had never been so impressed.

Billie teased her about not trusting her while they ate their own dinner. And after soft kisses and low murmurs turned into hot, slow sex, Ally finally admitted that she hadn’t.

And that she had been wrong.

And they finally had that hard conversation that neither of them had been fully prepared for until it was practically already settled.

After that, Ally trusted Billie.

Even when she came home to Oz sat up on the counter with a lollipop in his mouth.

Even after he threw a fit when Ally told him to take a bath, and immediately listened when Billie repeated the request.

Ally had forgotten what co-parenting was like, but she also had never really known.

Billie was always open to listen and communicate and discuss, where Ivy had been argumentative and pushy.

And as Ally watched Billie tuck Oz into bed one night, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he murmured a sleepy “night, mummy” she realized with a start that she wasn’t upset. She was happy.

Her biggest fear was that Oz would get between them. That she would have to leave Billie behind to do what was best for her son.

But everything had worked out.

And with the way they always checked in and Billie always listened to her about the big things, Ally had no doubt in her mind that they would be just fine.

38. What are they like in the bedroom? Any kinks/fetishes/turn-ons? Anything they won’t do?

It’s intense.

I’m not going to lie.

Ally had used to think she liked using toys and loved the rush of getting off on something totally different than the feel of her partner.

But Billie is a fucking lady killer and there’s no way that Ally could imagine wanting anything other than Billie touching her and licking her and inside of her.

And it works out perfectly, because Billie loves to touch.

She wants to feel every single one of Ally’s moans, the way they vibrate through her body and the tiny shift as her fingers and toes curl into the sheets.

While Ally always thought of herself as a switch, she loves when Billie spoils her.

She’s usually trembling when Billie gets her fingers on her.

But when Billie gets particularly needy, fingers wandering at state dinner parties and tiny pleas in Ally’s ear, Ally is more than happy to top.

And Billie loves pushing her down into the bed as Ally tops her from the bottom.

Billie Dean grinding on Ally’s stomach with her hands in her hair as she throws her head back and makes the most delicious sounds.

And you’d better believe Ally would be kneading her ass like there was no tomorrow.

It inevitably ends with Billie in charge because she just can’t help herself.

Ally loves to be edged, as much as she would never admit it.

And Billie loves the way Ally gasps and pants, hands always flying out to her hair or her shoulders or her waist.

And the way Ally touches her, always pushing and pressing and massaging, counter so perfectly with Billie’s light, purposeful touches. The way she drags her nails down Ally’s thighs.

Billie found out pretty early on that Ally was insatiably sensitive on the inside of her thighs, and watching her back arch as Billie kissed and scratched and bit there, before even coming close to Ally’s core, got to Billie like nothing else.

And Ally’s stamina.

Billie had never met someone who ever came close to her before.

But that first time, when she had ravished Ally for hours before she finally lost her patience and begged, and then when Ally had flipped them over and done the same for Billie before asking to go again, Billie had almost cried.

They could go for days if they wanted to.

And usually their fucking is a continuation of the night before, their days just tiny breaks in a longer conversation.

Billie Dean is an ass woman and Ally has a great ass.

Ally is obsessed with Billie’s hands, and as much as she hates to admit it, simply watching Billie flick her lighter shut with the palm of her hand is enough to set her squirming.

Billie loves the way Ally dresses. Has done from day one.

Those big sweaters and tight jeans are enough to fuel her darkest fantasies, and the way Ally lets her touch her, even while fully clothed, makes Billie feel so trusted and so loved.

Also? Billie in heels.

Where Ally’s style drives Billie crazy, Ally absolutely cannot handle herself when Billie is in heels and her hips sway in that way and she gains a few inches on her.

It shouldn’t have been A Thing™️. But it was. It really, really was.

And maybe Ally has too much fun flipping the switch and pulling Billie’s dress off and topping her in nothing but her heels.

When Billie is in heels, Ally goes full top. Shoving and pushing until Billie’s hair is fanned out on the pillow and frizzing as Ally pounds her fingers into her.

Because Ally loves the sting of her heel scraping down her back when Billie hooks her leg over Ally’s shoulder.

NO ASS PLAY COME ON.

It’s not that they won’t do toys. It’s just that they don’t want to.

There’s no need for them, when Billie wants to touch and be touched and have that contact.

So after Billie opened Ally’s drawer and found them, and asked hesitantly, Ally said no.

And Billie had ravished her.

Other than that, there’s not much they won’t do, but Billie is always careful not to push Ally and Ally is always careful not to wear Billie out.

Tag List: @thatgirlintheleatherjacket @shineestark @duchessfics @darling-dontforgetme @midnight-lestrange @nerdaroo @pradababey @mssallymckenna

#billie dean howard x ally mayfair richards #billie dean x ally #billie dean howard #ally mayfair richards #ahs murder house #ahs cult #ahs imagine #sarah paulson imagine #ahs headcanons #hcs #headcanon #headcanons #ask me anything #asks #asks and replies #ask answered

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years

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Tinderbox, pt 14

AMAZING art by @raspberrydreamclouds

Story masterlist

When she came out of the bathroom, changed into a much comfier jersey dress - not wanting to get food on the beautiful borrowed cheong-sam - Marshall stood at the tiny stove. The smell of frying bacon and buttery eggs wound through her little apartment, making it warm, homey. She padded over to him on bare feet. When she slid her arms around him, pressing her face to the soft white shirt he wore, Salami wove between her calves, and she thought: just this.

“You like to cook?”

“I used to cook all the time,” he murmured, flipping the omelette deftly. The eggs were golden. “I think it’s ready.”

“Smells good.” Rosie gave him a squeeze and set the small table with plates and cutlery; filled two glasses with water.

Marshall split the omelette and carried the pan to the table, sliding half on to each plate. She laughed when he came back with a little porcelain bowl of finely chopped parsley.

“Thanks, Gordon Ramsey.”

His lips twitched. “Hardly.” He offered her the bowl and after she’d taken a pinch, he served himself.

“Thank you, really.”

“You’re welcome, really.”

Rosie dug in with gusto. The flavours bloomed on her tongue, the rich, sunshine-bright yolk, the salty bacon, the creamy grand padano, her only indulgence from the Italian-run deli two blocks from her apartment. “On my God. This is amazing.....!”

“Thanks.”

She saw the little blush creep into his cheeks as he forked up another mouthful.

“So…..” He glanced up and it was her turn to blush. “I feel like I know almost nothing about you, even though we’ve…. Well. You know.”

“Yeah.” He took a sip of water. “Well…. What would you like to know?”

She mulled it over as Salami nuzzled at her ankle, probably angling for some bacon. “Have you always been a cop?”

“No, actually. I was SWAT before - transferred when Faye was born. Her, ah, mother was worried about it; it can be dangerous.”

“Do you miss it? SWAT, I mean.”

Marshall lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Yes and no.”

“And how did you meet? Faye’s mom, I mean.”

“Blind date. A friend at the station - precinct, here, isn’t it? - set us up.” He shook his head, smiling, a far off look in his eyes. “I had an excuse all lined up, but, turned out, I didn’t need it.”

Rosie’s heart turned over. “I love that.”

His brow furrowed. “Love what? Talking about my ex?”

“No.” She reached over to snag his free hand, tangling their fingers. “I love that you didn’t downplay it. Some guys I’ve dated would have said how their past lovers didn’t matter, or that they were forgotten. I love that you smiled when you thought of her, and that you served me up a good memory.”

He took a deep breath; she watched a muscle in his jaw twitch. “Even if we’d hated each other, I’ll always be grateful to Angie for giving me Faye. Some part of me will always love her for that.”

“I’m glad.” And she meant it with all her heart. “You can’t just turn love off like a tap. I don’t think people work that way.”

He squeezed her hand, holding her gaze. “I really am sorry I didn’t get in touch. Police work is hell on relationships, Rosie, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Plus, if I let you slip through my fingers, Faye will kick my arse. She does tai kwon do and she’s a girl, so if she’s been listening to me about self defence at all these years, she’ll fight dirty.”

“Faye? You told your daughter about me?”

“Guilty as charged.”

Rosie’s breath hitched. “Walter… wow.”

“Yeah, wow. It’s been a long time since I wanted to try with someone, but, I want to.”

She took a long drink of water. “Me, too. God, please tell me you have condoms.”

“I definitely do have condoms. I bought them on the off chance. I…. hoped.”

Rosie caved to the plaintive meows from Salami and fed the purring cat a tiny morsel of leftover bacon from the edge of her plate. “Thank God. ”

Marshall took the plates and glasses to the sink as Rosie measured cat food into Salami’s bowl. It was oddly comforting, moving together like this. We fit, she thought again, happiness blooming inside her like a flower stretching to the sunlight.

“Help me build the bed?”

He stretched out the futon and covers, and when it was done, she opened her arms and he stepped into them, teasing her neck with his lips. She arched to give him better access, combed her fingers through the thick, dark curls of his hair.

“Do you have work tomorrow?” he whispered by her pulse point.

“Not until two.”

Marshall smiled against her skin, his beard tickling pleasantly. “Good. Because I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I want to do everything. Multiple times.”

She shivered in anticipation. “Yes, please.”

In the half light from the small hall lamp, his cobalt eyes were very dark, promising pleasure untold. Rosie tipped up his chin and he took the hint, kissing her languidly, taking his sweet time, as they tasted each other. He murmured her name and licked into her mouth, and Rosie looped her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his, feeling the hard lines of him against her, revelling in it.

Marshall nipped her bottom lip playfully, and then his kisses moved down again, dotting over her chin, down to her neck, where the gentle scrape of his jaw scruff rendered her skin super sensitive. As she giggled, a sound she hadn’t heard herself make for, perhaps, years, he captured her lips again, the kiss so tender this time that her heart bumped painfully in her chest.

As he returned to kissing her neck, his hand lifted to cup her breast, his thumb finding the already firm point of her nipple and teasing it to hardness through the soft fabric of her loose jersey dress. She strained towards him, only wanting more, more, more. Please, more.

“ Fuck, Rosie,” he bit out, her name tumbling from his lips like a prayer.

The sound of her name in his accent, like that, set something loose in Rosie. Maybe it was knowing that he seemed as enchanted by this tug-of-war attraction between them as she was, but it was enough.

She slid her hands into his hair again, loving the feel of it, soft and thick, the curls falling between her fingers. She pressed her mouth to his temple as he continued devouring the super sensitive skin of her neck.

For the first time in - well, longer than she could remember, she stopped thinking, and started to simply feel .

It seemed like Marshall was going to take charge, and she-

She would let him. And it would be glorious.

Rosie arched into his hand as he used the other to yank her closer to him, closer still. With their bodies pressed together there was no mistaking the hard ridge in his jeans pressed to her lower belly. The heat of it, the desperate want of it, made muscles deep inside her clench, over and over. She abandoned his hair and instead slid her hands down to cup his amazing ass through his jeans. It had the effect of pushing his erection closer into her, and she helplessly ground up against him, hearing a little mewl of need and realising belatedly that it came from her lips.

“Walter-”

“Bed?” he murmured against her skin.

“God, yes.”

Almost without warning, he swung her up into his arms as if she weighed hardly a thing, walked them both over to the converted futon. When he would have put her down gently on it, Rosie yanked at his lapels until he collapsed on to it, on to her, that long, work-roughened, rangy body pressed deliciously atop hers. She kept hold of his shirt and tugged his face down until their mouths met again, until their tongues tangled. She let Marshall drink her in and gave as good as she got, savouring every taste, every new texture.

He buried his hands in her hair, and Rosie took the opportunity to start on the buttons of his shirt. He’d looked delicious as sin at the museum, his crisp, snowy shirt slightly open at the neck, exposing that tempting curve where his neck met his shoulders. His jeans hugged his hips like a lover. She wanted her legs there tonight. Every night.

Impatient now, Rosie tore open the last button and shoved the edges of the shirt aside, feasting on his bare chest with her fingers and palms, smoothing her hands over the curls of his chest hair. When she could bear it no more she broke the kiss and used her eyes, too, allowing herself a visual feast of his sculpted physique. The planes and angles of his chest didn’t disappoint. This view would live in her fantasies for some time to come.

She pushed the shirt down his shoulders and it fell to the floor.

Marshall raised a brow, his expression playful. “Impatient?”

Rosie grinned back, feeling light. “I’m simply someone who knows what she wants.”

“And gets it?”

She slid a hand down his naked back to rest on his belt, happiness and desire twinning to make her feel light. “What does it look like to you?”

Thanking my beta, @ly--canthrope ! The next chapter will be pure smut, I promise.

Tagging: @watermeloncavill @dancingwendigo @maggotzombie @hopelessromanticspoonie @just-the-hiddles @abehn250 @littlefreya @brokenthelovely @wanderinglunarnights @mrsaugustwalker @townmoondaltwhistle @captain-rogers-beard @ayamenimthiriel @rayofdawnworld @alyxkbrl @stxphmxlls @mary-ann84 @the-jer-bear @pinkzsugar @peakygroupie @wildwavehc @andahugaroundtheneck @thethirstyarchive @manawhaat @agniavateira @cavillhavoc @dr-kayleigh-dh @boiled-onionrings @promptandpros @screamingrennergasm @ravenpuff02 @chook007 @xocali @magdelen69

#walter marshall #henry cavil fic #imagine walter marshall #night hunter fic

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londonfog-chan · 4 years

Text

Narancia Ghirga x Reader Part 2: Giorno

Y’all already know I’m up in here taking a hammer to the canon.

...

No one could ever love Haruno more than you, except for Narancia.

You’re so amazed, he has very quickly bonded with the little boy almost since the first few seconds he’s been in his new home. When you brought the baby home the first night, shivering and making soft whimpers in your neck, Narancia ran to the both of you and plucked the baby out of your arms. Haruno panicked at Narancia’s desperate attempts to take care of him, only reassured when you stayed right by his side.

It feels as though the events of the past never happened. Being with Narancia and the other boys he hangs around with, it’s like this is where you and Haruno have always been. The others have opened up to you when they saw Haruno in your arms, and the baby is a welcome addition to the home they’ve all built together.

“Haruno! Do you want some salami?”

“Can Haruno try a bit of spaghetti?”

“Haruno! Who’s that! Is that your sorella? Where’s sorella?”

Half the time he doesn’t know where to turn when there’s affection in all directions. Buccellati smiles and wraps the baby in his strong arms whenever you need to get something for him. Mista will watch him no questions asked. Stoic, abrasive Abbacchio smiles whenever the little one is placed delicately in his lap. Fugo is calmer when he helps to tutor Narancia, it definitely helps that Fugo has taken to balancing Haruno on his lap while he works with your boyfriend, and it’s amazing to see the love of your life understand the work for the first time when he’s got a young listening ear to explain everything to. When Narancia explains the problems to Haruno, a light goes off in his brain and he’s able to solve them easily. Haruno’s eyes widen when Narancia lifts him in the air, smiling and happy as he’s never seen someone be before.

So it’s no surprise when the little boy lifts himself off the blanket one day, and toddles towards an approaching Narancia who is laden with armloads of groceries for everyone.

“Hey! Look! He’s walking towards me! He chose me, he loves me more than you amore! Hahahaha!”

He teases you about Haruno loving him more without truly meaning any malicious intent, and he’s not above picking up the little boy and showering the both of you with kisses to prove it. One of many things that made you fall in love with Narancia is his heart. He has so much love to give, taking in a child that doesn’t really have any blood attachment to either of you and treating the baby as though he is the most precious treasure in the world. It’s even more amazing to see Haruno respond to this abundance of love. For the first few nights he wakes up and shivers silently in the darkness between you and Narancia, and you both start staying up late to make sure Haruno doesn’t wake up alone. After a while, he’s gotten better at communicating his needs. He starts crying when he’s wet or when he’s hungry. He’ll reach to Narancia while you’re feeding him, or if Narancia is changing him he will reach for you, taking your fingers in his tiny hands.

“Who gave him that stupid ass name, Sposina?” Narancia whispers.

It never fails to make you purr in pleasure when Narancia calls you his little wife, but you must be silent. Haruno is finally asleep. He smells sweet and clean, the clothes that Buccellati bought for him are warm because he just exudes heat, kicking off his new baby blanket as he dreams between the two of you in your warm bed. It’s been a long day, full of love and fun and delicious things to eat and beautiful things to see, and Haruno falls asleep quickly when you and Narancia are there to tuck him in.

The rash is gone, Buccellati took the child to the doctor at the frantic insistence of Narancia, and your boyfriend had taken over any administering of medications. You knew why he wanted to care for the baby, and it only endeared you more to your lover instead of making you jealous. Haruno couldn’t have fared better if another family had taken him in. They wouldn’t have been able to match that love.

“His mother.” You grumble. “I know… I hate it too.”

“She wasn’t Italian?”

“No.” you rub your hand softly over your brother’s soft tummy. “Really Haruno is my step brother, his mother is Japanese and she married my father when he left for a month.”

Narancia remembered that month. You’d been left behind with not much money, wandering aimlessly and trying to buy something simple for yourself with next to nothing. Counting coins left over in a line and almost about to walk away when he told you he’d like to treat you to something. It was when you both sat down together, his favorite pizza between the two of you, that he noticed your scarred arms and the sallow face. You were almost lost to a depression that had been building for sixteen years before he tore you away from that life.

“I think it’s a stupid name.” Narancia’s violet eyes sparkle with hate in the moonlight.

Calloused hands meet yours on Haruno’s tummy. With such tender love and affection, Narancia takes your fingers to his lips and kisses them. A loving gesture. One that relaxes you when Haruno is in the room and the both of you must be mindful of the noise.

“I’ve got a better one for him.” Narancia’s voice pierces the silence gently.

“Oh?”

You look up at him. There’s a mile wide smile on your face. He flutters his beautiful long eyelashes at you, and it brings such a sense of security to know that the beautiful young man laying across from you and your brother will never leave you two. Throughout the relationship, the first you’ve ever been in, he has been nothing but sincere and loyal to you. Narancia too knows the pain you both have endured. Back before Haruno came, when you and Narancia would be at your most vulnerable, he would hold you tightly against his chest, running a soft touch along the scars on your skin that had long since faded away. He used to tell you those scars were his, guiding your hands along his scars and telling you those were yours. Whispers that you both are one, will always be one, because the cuts and bruises will fade. But your love will always stay.

“Giorno. We’re going to call him Giorno from now on.”

Your heart feels like it will fly away. Propelled by love.

It’s a special name for him because that’s been the name he’s always wanted to give to his firstborn. If he’s told you once, he’s told you a million times: he wants a family of his own, and he wants it with you. The way he describes the life he will give you is so dreamy and makes your heart warm, he will show you pictures of gardens in magazines or books that Fugo brings him from the library and he’ll tell you the kinds of flowers he wants planted in the garden he will make for you. Sometimes when the two of you would walk hand in hand down the streets, he’ll point out the color of the buildings and tell you that’s going to be the color of the house he will build for you.

Of course Buccellati has taken extreme measures to make sure you and Narancia don’t become parents too early. Both of you are, to be frank, dumb ass teens with little more than your desperate passions on your minds, begging your Capo to let you both have kids when between the two of you, you maybe have one collective brain cell (that belongs to you the majority of the time). Stupidly you both thought that was the next step to take in a relationship when you were in love.

“Sposina?”

“Mm?”

He looks at you like he hasn’t been fed in months, but you know the look has nothing to do with food.

“Let’s make Giorno a big brother.”

A soft squeak catches in your throat, you can’t help it. He’s looking at you so intensely.

“Are you… Do you really want to?” you whisper.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He affirms. “Come here. Come to me. I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s time we took this further. Vieni qui, sposina mio…”

How can you refuse him?

Carefully, mindful of your little Giorno, you move him to the warmth of your side of the bed and lose yourself to the languid kisses of your desperate boyfriend. This is also why you love him. His passion. His intensity. It burns you like fire and you have to really try to keep yourself quiet as his fingers toy with the hem of your nightgown.

The soft sound of a zipper makes your face turn red. No turning back now. Narancia has his tongue in your mouth and his kisses are heated and frantic. You reach down to take Narancia’s manhood in your hands, totally excited at the prospect of it being freed…

And you’re met with a strong hand around your wrist.

“Get back to your side, now.”

You open your eyes to see you’re suddenly face to face with Buccellati in his night wear. Narancia is gaping on the other side of his friend’s body. Buccellati is between you both, like a wall, while Giorno is blissfully unaware of anything happening around him. Without question you obey, scooting back to your sleeping brother while Buccellati slips in between you and Narancia. He acts as a barrier, placing Giorno on his buff chest while Narancia is too red faced to focus or protest, turning his back to his Capo while you burn in shame on the other side.

“Both of you go to sleep.” He hisses.

You both do so.

But you still can’t help but smile, thinking that you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

#narancia ghirga #narancia ghirga x reader #every day i take the hammer and FIX THE CANON #jojo’s bizarre adventure vento aureo #bruno buccellati #jojo’s bizzare adventure #jojo’s bizarre adventure x reader #jjba x reader #jjba reader insert #you and narancia have 1 collective braincell #giorno giovanna #haruno shiobana

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eat-worms · 4 years

Text

T.H.O.M.A.S

Technological

Human

Operations

Mimicking

Automated

System

Sanders Sides AU where Thomas is a Robot the sides are building.

🤖=🤖=🤖=🤖=🤖=🤖=🤖

Plot: A bunch of 𝑔𝒶𝓎 scientists have to begrudgingly work together on building their robot son.

Patton- Was originally the bubbly receptionist for the lab, but after a few run ins and or shenanigans Janus realizes that Patton is really good with people and is the perfect test subject and consultant for Thomas's emotion replication abilities. So he officially hires him. (cant do tech stuff at all. cant even "hang out" with Thomas without something breaking)

Logan- The one building the robot parts of Thomas. Gets fed up with the other's antics but couldn't do it without them :)

Roman- Engineering. Designs the stuff on paper and in little prototypes. wants to constantly make Thomas "cooler" and adds in random things in the designs like a soda dispenser and Logan is tired™

Remus- Testing. Makes Thomas do stupid stuff and films it and Logan is like "how did you get a degree of science you buffoon??" and Roman just cackles and it inspires him to add more ridiculous and obscure things to Thomas for Remus to test.

Virgil- Techie that programs Thomas and also helps Logan build but mainly works on the safety aspect and fixing stuff after Remus tests. He also loves the wacky tests but if ANYTHING happens to Thomas u will pay. He adds protections and warnings in his comments/notes like "do not. under ANY circumstances. put Thomas within a 5 foot radius of a spider." just to confuse and annoy Logan (he may also be half serious) and Logan doesn't know what to do with any of it.

Janus- Director of the psychological studies for Thomas. He is very well versed in the ethics of the field they are working in and wont hesitate to debate you. He mainly focuses on trying to make Thomas act like a person even though hes a Robot and alongside Roman helps translate that into something that can be built. Hes also kind of the leader, along with Logan.

Moments:

Logan: This is test number three-five-o-two at 3:25 PM EST on July 3rd 2020 to evaluate-

Virgil: Logan, why is Thomas talking to the stove?

Logan: Wh-

Roman: Aw come on! Look at how stupid he looks talking to the kitchen appliances Logan, you made him stupid.

Logan: I dID NOT make him STUPID YOU-

*Janus later has to end the kerfuffle after he walks in on Logan, on top of Roman, holding a soldering iron to Roman's throat*

~~~

*Thomas is booting up but it's taking a while*

Roman: Tom

Patton: Tomathy

Roman: Tommy Salami

Patton: Tomalama ding-dong

Roman: Thomas the DANK engine

Logan: ...

~~~

Logan: I know him better than anyone because I know how he works so-

~~~

🤖💖More Lore💖🤖

Logan does the know exact time thing but says it at the same time as Thomas when someone asks what the time is.

🤖

Virgil will talk to Thomas like hes a person and Logan is confused by this but Virgil uses the excuse that hes supposed to seem like a human so why not talk to him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Virgil also kinda vents to him but uh big ouch a lot of it gets recorded onto Thomas and that gets turned into either hyjinx and or angst later.

🤖

Patton also talks to Thomas like a person but more like "Yes look and my robot son he is so smart I love him" and he also teaches him puns. The puns get out of hand at some point and Thomas has got it in his neural network that puns are The Exact Right Thing To Say in Any social interaction but they start becoming really obscure because Thomas has access to a lot of information, and he hasn't quite nailed getting puns in context, so one time he makes a pun that is really sciencey and vaguely connected to the conversation so only Logan gets it,,,,, but he finds it hilarious and it's the only pun Logan will admit to laughing at.

🤖

Virgil has that programmer relationship with Thomas. So smthn just wont run correctly and Virgil is like "YOU IDIOT! I'm going to prohibit your mimicking human breathing function if you keep this up!!!" "A SINGLE SEMI COLON ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?! Why is it ALWAYS dumb s̶h̶i̶t̶ like that with you Thomas?!" "I have a million copies saved of his program because if anything happens to him I will actually combust." He also has incomprehensible names for variables and functions and stuff and some of them are memes and vine references. Logan has had to learn a bunch of modern slang just vaguely understand what's happening in the code.

🤖

Jan is always recommending certain things to Roman to make Thomas more realistic but sometimes they are obscure because "people and psychology are just weird" so Roman adds them in (or tries) but sometimes Janus just makes it up and watches everyone struggle meeting his request for entertainment. like, "Mhm, ok, fantastic work this week, truly, just show-stopping. However, comma, He just... doesn’t fix his hair enough... You'd be surprised the amount of times the average Male adult fixes his hair in a single social interaction. So....make him do it more." (That request never ended up getting changed back after it got implemented...)

🤖

Remus is always adding things to the list of "things he needs to test with" and Pat at reception starts to get concerned with the 3rd bulk shipment of deodorant that came through. Remus actually uses funds to restock the fridge and snack cabinet a lot along with Roman occasionally.

🤖

Pat is always scolding the others (mainly Remus and Virgil) for swearing or saying mean things too or around Thomas because he "wants to raise him right" and doesn't want him to "learn bad manners". He also may or may not be low-key emotionally attached to Thomas and wants to believe he actually feels things. Janus is simultaneously amused and frustrated with this but he let's it slide because "I guess that means that Thomas is effective...despite the fact that Patton is naive, it's still promising."

(Patton isn't actually naive, just because he wants to treat Thomas like a human doesn't mean he thinks he is. Patton really does it because then the others can be proud of their hard work and can actually see Thomas functioning with a person outside of a controlled environment.)

Yeah so that's what I got so far! I kinda wanna add more to this so if ya like the idea interact with this post n I'll maybe make an update. I don’t have a plot in mind for this other than like, Patton being added to the group. I just think the idea is cute and works well with the dynamics already set up in Sanders Sides.

Also, Disclaimer, I haven't had any experience in Robotics LOL so this could all be actual gibberish. I have done Computer Science and programming tho so I vaguely understand that side of it. But the engineering and actual possibility of making a human-like Robot I have no clue about.

Oh! If you know anything about these topics or maybe just like this au idea and want to add on FEEL FREE TO SHARE! :D I would LOVE to see what people have to add!

See yah~💖🤖💖~

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bstormhands · 4 years

Text

The Captain and Cassandra

The Captain of the Guard of the Kingdom of Corona kept his horses at a furlong eating pace between the black rocks. He was sure he was going faster then the caravan could but the Princess and her band had left nearly a year ago. But now things had changed and the kingdom needed Princess Rapunzel to come home.

He had to conserve the horses, because he still had no idea how long he had to go. He was catching up though, that he was sure of because the people he met in the towns and villages he stopped at for supplies would tell him about a long blonde haired girl and how long ago she passed through. He would casually ask about a girl with a very thick blonde braid and they would describe Princess Rapunzel exactly. And they would also regale him with stores of how she would help them sometimes in payment and other times just because. He could see her mark on these places, it might be a sign or a building with vines painted on them.

Vardaros had changed completely. They were still a standoffish and hard people but the Baron was gone now and Quaid was back in control. It was becoming a thriving city again. That had surprised him. The Princess was going to find her destiny by following the black rocks but had left overthrown governments and much more in her wake. She was a lot stronger then he had remembered and right now he was thankful for her steel.

He remembered the Princess when she first came to Corona and he’d finally took his eyes off Fitzherbert. She had been desperate for him to like her. There was something about her that tore at his heart, that quiet desperation for approval and touch. It reminded him so much of Cassandra when he had taken her in.

It still sent shiver down his sine to think both Princess Rapunzel and Cassandra had been raised by the same person. He had failed the Princess by not finding her. But he had tried not to fail the girl he rescued from the kidnapper. In some small, pointless, insignificant way to try and make up for what he hadn’t done for the king and queen and their little girl.

The Captain of the Guard shook himself. He had to focus on the here-and-now. The cliffs were getting steeper here and the path narrower. He turned a corner and stopped Lombards Pass was destroyed. He checked his map to make sure and this was the place but no swaying rocks.

“Blast all.” He grumbled, as he turned around to try to find an detour. He hadn’t seen anyone since he left the port city. They said no one went this way anymore. There was a dead kingdom in that direction and no one goes there anymore. He didn’t care he was following the black rocks to wherever they lead. That was where she was going.

He hated all these roadblocks he kept running into. He ended up spending weeks on that insane island because of rain. That the ship taking prisoners to the prison barge had been taken over was terrible. He knew he had sent it with a skeleton crew because he was low on people. That Varian had really done a number on the kingdom and had made them vulnerable. After Andrew had been caught trying to foment a prison break he had decided to send most of the prisoners to the prison barge to get them away. He kept Andrew close because he was too dangerous to leave unsupervised. He had tried to get help for Varian and his father but Xavier had not been able to find anything to penetrate the amber and the people who talked to Varian had not gotten through to him, but somehow Andrew did. And now he was on the road trying to find a way to fix this debacle.

At the base of the road he built a cairn to warn others not to follow this path. There was a booming sound, long loud and deep that rattled pebbles from the cliffs. The horses spooked and he worked to calm them, he looked at the sky, but the clouds were wrong for a thunderstorm. He thought about pressing on but if a storm was coming he’d better hunker down and here was a good enough spot and the horses were too restless anyway. He gave each of them a small pile of oats to calm them and let them graze the grass. He noticed a large cloud rising far to the North-East. He setup his tent and cooked a hot dinner just in case the weather turned cold on him, but the mushroom shaped cloud passed to the North of him. Which was fine by him, as that spared him getting wet.

His back ached as he woke up, the ground was hard here. He was healed of his injury but sometimes in the morning it still pained him until he moved around a bit to loosen up. Swinging South he continued on his search for the princess.

A day later he found himself looking at a riverbed. The map said there was supposed to be a river, but as he looked at the line of sand and rock of an empty river bed he wondered what was going on, the ground was still wet like a river had been here until very recently. He hurried across and up the other side. As he found the black rocks again he heard tinkling chimes. Soon he encountered an old woman driving a colorful cart.

“Hello!” He called when he saw the cart ahead. She waved back. She quickly stopped and set out a sign. Some kind of peddler, he guessed.

He read the sign Madam Cannardist and Vigor the Visionary. There was someone else around. He kept his eyes open and guard up, he would not let anyone sneak up behind him.

The woman then launched into a spiel about telling fortunes of dynasties and the like. “For three silver coins.” Great, some cheesy scam artist. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I have someone to find. Lombards Pass has been destroyed. You’ll have to take another route, if you are heading to the port. It took me three days to go around it.” He said once he was closer. She deflated a bit.

“We know. Vigor knows what happened to the pass.” She said haughtily. “I never did like taking Lombards Pass anyway.” She muttered. He noted her thick accent and a monkey climbing down to sit next to her.

“Any news about the road?” He asked pointing the way he was going.

“The Great Tree has been destroyed, not that anyone could go that way anyway, not with Hector and his bearcats in control of it. It is best to go North around it anyway.” She said. He nodded.

“There is nothing much out this way anymore. With the Dark Kingdom gone, so are all the towns and villages that fed it. Almost none remain. The land is empty.” She said sadly, pulling out some firewood and setting up a fire. She then added some bits and bobs of various wild fruits and vegetables he was sure she had found alongside the road.

The monkey ran off and soon returned with a few bananas. The monkey reminded him of Friedeborg, his heart clenched as he remembers her and the royal family. He was sure she was up to something, as the queen’s lady-in-waiting she made things around the castle run smoothly, but with the Saporians in control she was creating chaos around them. Not big dangerous things, but lots of small distractions and inconveniences. He was so proud of her. He wished there had been a way o communicate with her to tell her that. He prayed that Cassandra was safe with Rapunzel.

One lesson the captain had learned on the road was to share, there was often a long ways between villages and to share what you could, made the trek easier. He pulled out some hardtack, cut a chuck of salami, and a bit of cheese and brought them to her.

The monkey chattered at her. She seems like she wanted to argue with him but she sighed resignedly and then pulled something out from under his turban. “Vigor wants you to have this.”

He read the slip of paper. “Shine a beacon in the darkness for those that are lost. What does that mean?” he asked.

“All will become clear in time.” She said mysteriously. He had the feeling she wasn’t a bad person, just someone trying to get along using what means she had.

He remembered something, reached into his pouch and got out three silver coins.

“The fortune is free.” She said proudly but her eyes didn’t leave the coins.

“Perhaps, but fair is fair.” He said and held out his open hand. She clutched the coins close like a starving person.

“You seek the Princess Rapunzel?” She asked.

He almost fell off the rock he was sitting on. “How could you know that?”

“The princess and her entourage are just a few days ahead of you.” She said dramatically, but she was looking at the sun sigil on the coin.

He scrambled up and ran to the horses. “Thank you. Travel safely.”

***

He had passed by the huge sinkhole where the Great Tree had been. He wondered if Fitzherbert had done that. It took him seemingly forever to get around that and find a way past the ridge and into the rolling land beyond.

He was able to make good time here, so he pushed as fast as he dared without exhausting the horse, switching between them often. He found a desolate landscape at one point that scared him deeply, he’d helped flooded villages before that had been washed away but there had been debris. Here was nothing but some crumpled stone work that told him a great city had once stood inside massive walls that put the walls of Corona to shame. But there was nothing that could be done about something that erased cities. May it stay far from Corona.

He saw a Saporran balloon floating his way. He ducked under some trees to hide. Those damn things were a serious problem he didn’t exactly know how to counter, a good sized catapult should be able to reach, but if the people on them couldn’t see you…that was something.

Clouds covered the horizon ahead and the black rocks were thicker then ever. As the sun settled on the horizon, he stopped for camp and started dinner, under some trees in the forest. He stayed under cover as much as he could and an eye on the sky. He wished Cassandra and Owl were with him.

“Hello.” He heard from across the fire. He jumped up and pulled out his sword. The horses whinnied.

“Easy, stranger. I mean you no harm.” Said a woman, half her face painted red. She was leaning casually against a black rock. She didn’t appear to be armed so he lowered his weapon.

“You are very quiet on your feet. I haven’t seen anyone for days.” He said sheathing his sword.

“This is not a good place for people.” The woman said.

He looked at her warily. “You’re here.”

“Something is coming this way. And you don’t want to get in it’s way.” She said.

After the sneeze-weasels, the giant birds, and all the other creatures he’s encountered on this mission he was willing to take the warning.

“How long?” he asked, wondering if he would have time to hide his fire or eat dinner.

She looked in the direction he was going. “It depends. A couple of hours if it keeps walking, maybe a day if it stops to rest. It’s hard to say exactly.”

That wasn’t exactly helpful.

“And if its running?” he asked the important question.

She considered that. So that was a good question. “Half an hour, probably.”

Not long. Still not all that fast, but at least there was time for dinner.

“Would you like some dinner?” He invited her. “We can hide somewhere else afterwards.”

“Yes, please.” She pulled something from her scrip. “I have some tubers I dug up. I can prepare them. Do you have a pan to cook them in?”

“Sure thing.” He went to the packs and pulled out a frying pan, but he didn’t turn his back to her completely. She was scraping the tubers with her belt knife. She added the tubers and some water and allowed them to steam.

“So what is this thing that is coming?” He asked. Better know what it is. He would just let it pass so he could focus on finding the Princess. That was his mission, not to go around righting wrongs or fighting monsters. But he didn’t want to run into it returning to Corona either. He was probably pretty close to the Princess, hopefully she avoided whatever it was.

“I’m not sure exactly. Its connected to the black rocks and is very dangerous as it can control them.” She said. She sat so she could see in the direction of the black rocks.

That was very interesting. Princess Rapunzel had gone off to search for the origin of the black rocks maybe she found it. That the woman didn’t mention anyone else was a concern.

He nodded.

She stood up gazing up the path. “Somethings happening.”

He rose and turned. A red glow appeared on trees. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, get away from the black rocks.” She said. He ran to the horses. She came over to help. Red rocks burst out of the ground.

Red rocks burst out of the ground with that weird sound they made that reminded Cap of swords being pulled from sheaths, if they were ten feet long and a foot wide. The horses reared away from the red rocks. He and the woman grabbed reins and dragged the horses away from he rocks. He heard things, the king and queen accusing him of failure. His men dying pointlessly. Strong Cass weeping.

They ran and the visions faded.

“What was that?” he asked as they came to a halt under a tree far from the road.

She shook her head. “Something different. Sometime new. I’ve never seen them do that before.”

The red rocks were a lot faster then the black rocks, that could be a problem. The red glow lit up trees in both directions as far as they could see.

“You know a lot about those rocks?” He asked.

“I thought I did. Now…” She trailed off.

He hitched the horse to a tree branch. They waited for a while, watching the red rocks and the path, but nothing happened.

“I’ll get your stuff.” The woman said.

He nodded and said, “Be careful.”

“Always.” She said.

He watched as she approached the camp warily. She grabbed an armful of gear and retreated. Nothing happened. Then she went back for the rest, stamping out and scattering the fire. Scoffing the ground to make it look unused. There were still tracks from the horses in the grass but there wasn’t much to do about them.

“We can make camp here, we can watch the path easily at least.” He said.

***

The next morning

They scouted carefully along the red rocks. Staying a good long way from them. They had noticed that they got visions of their worst fears, but if they were off the track the visions would fade. That was a serious concern but what could they do. As it got dark they returned to the camp having found nothing. At least the glow of the red rocks made getting around somewhat easier.

Cap was worried about what this new form of rock meant. The fear visions didn’t help matters. He wasn’t able to sleep because there was so much to worry about. Corona, Cassandra, the royal family, the people of Corona. He couldn’t solve all the problems, trying to retrieve the princess was what he had decided to do to try and solve a problem, hopefully the biggest problem.

Adira was another problem. He wasn’t sure what her motivations were. They were acquaintances now but not friends. He didn’t let people in easily. It was too risky. Balancing known risk and potential reward was so difficult sometimes. So often lately some wildcard came into play that destroyed everything he built to mitigate the risks he knew about.

For the sake of Corona he was glad the Lost Princess had returned, but since her return so many unconventional things had begun happening. He had talked to the five living previous captains and they never remembered a level of excitement that they had during their service that matched anything like this. Times had become interesting indeed.

He also hoped that everyone was okay mining those green crystals Varian wanted. It was hard work but not the worst work they could be doing. But what did he want with all of them. They didn’t seem to be special in any way. The Saporians didn’t seem to care since it kept the population busy and out of the way. He had snuck out with the regular Depository run. They didn’t care what happened in the kingdom, so things ran smoothly as long as they didn’t catch the Saporian’s attention. They seemed more concerned with the horses then even gold. They were a strange group and he hadn’t found anything he could use against them easily.

After hours of watching, the red rocks and some of the black rocks withdrew into the ground. The forest was now lit only by the light of the moon.

“What happened?” he asked standing.

“The red rocks have withdrawn.” Adira said calmly. She was always so literal.

“I can see that, but why?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She said. “Get some sleep. It will wait until tomorrow.”

He didn’t like strangers ordering him around but she was right. He wanted to be ready to move fast so only got out his bedroll and soon fell asleep.

The next morning Adira was gone, which made him roll his eyes. She was not a team player. He packed up after a quick breakfast and picked his way through the forest trying to keep an eye on the trail of black rocks and the monster that Adira said was out here.

Monster or not, he was out here to find the princess and that was what he was going to do. He would just bypass the monster and worry about it once he found the princess. She had those thugs with her, they would be a big help defeating a monster.

The horses reacted first. They became reluctant to continue on in the direction he was going. The wind was from there too, so that told him the monster was close, even if he couldn’t smell it yet. He lead them away from the path and behind a hill before tying them to a tree. He made his way to the top of the hill and settled down under a bush that gave him good cover and a view of the black rock path. It had a nice steep incline so even if he was spotted the monster would have to climb uphill, which should slow them down enough for him to get to the horses and away.

He pulled out his spyglass and set it down beside him. Then a piece of jerky and nibbled at it as he settled in to wait.

He didn’t have to wait long, but he was surprised by what he saw. A blue-haired woman in what looked like a black leather body suit and a blue-haired girl in a fancy pale blue dress.

That couldn’t be the monster, he thought, but he raised the spyglass to his eye.

He saw the girl first and his eyebrow raised. She was translucent. He could see the rocks and plants through her. A ghost or spirit could count as a monster, though Adira seemed to make the monster a far bigger threat then a ghost. Then he remember Ruthless Ruth and Sugracha the Eternal. They’d been very dangerous, and not someone you could just punch or force to get your way. He did not like dealing with ghosts or spirits. This was worth going around.

Then he focused his spyglass on the woman and his jaw dropped.

“Cass?” he whispered.

Looking again, he was outraged by what she was wearing. A skin tight outfit was completely inappropriate for his daughter to wear. What was she thinking? Why was she with this blue ghost and why was she not with Princess Rapunzel?

Cassandra stopped and held out her hand toward the black rocks which began to glow blue. How did she have a connection to the black rocks? What was going on?

She spun around and looked right at him. He noticed a sprig of black rock his elbow was touching.

“Uh-oh.” He said.

She reached out toward him and black rocks sprang up and raced toward him. He rolled out of the way of the rocks that sprang up through the bush he had been under. He rolled too far and the ground dropped away. He tried to grasp some of the grass but it was too slippery and he rolled down the steep incline. He came to stop at the feet of his daughter who was looking so angry as she raised a hand.

Then her countenance changed as she recognized him. “Dad?” Cass asked incredulously.

“Uh. Hi, Cass.” He said with a certain amount of embarrassment.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Cass asked as she awkwardly tried to place her hands in front of her to somehow cover herself in front of her father. The rocks around them turned pink.

“Corona’s in trouble and needs help.” He said, rolling over with a groan. That fall had not been good for his back.

“Dad, are you okay?” Cass fell to her knees beside him.

He looked at her and love filled his heart because he realized he had missed her so much. He had been glad she was away from the kingdom during the takeover. He threw his arms around her.

“I missed you so much, Cass. I’m so glad your safe.” He said.

He noticed her not hugging him back. Something was wrong, but at the moment he didn’t care. He was just glad to be with his daughter.

“I was so scared for you this whole time.” He could tell she was uncomfortable, wiggling a little like she had as a child, but he couldn’t let go. He wasn’t strong enough yet. Tears were flowing from his eyes. He couldn’t stop them.

“I’m so proud of you. You are the best daughter I could have ever imagined. I’m sorry I was so hard on you and didn’t let you be a guard like you wanted. I was just trying to keep you safe, but I know now that I- that I have no control over that. I love you. I love you.” He sobbed as he held her closer. It wasn’t manly to do this but he didn’t care anymore. He hadn’t seen his daughter in a year and with everything that had happened finding her safe was too much.

Eventually Cassandra put her arms around her father and hugged him back. She also felt the love he was giving her that the knew she didn’t deserve but gave her anyway.

The Captain of the Guard and father of Cassandra gained control over himself and she helped him up.

“What happened to the blue girl?” Cap said looking around.

Cass looked around too. “I don’t know, she disappears when she wants too.”

“What happened?” the father asked his daughter.

“Um.” Cass didn’t look at her dad and scuffed at the ground.

“Situation Report, Soldier!” The Captain of the Guard barked.

Cassandra snapped to attention. “We followed the black rocks to the Dark Kingdom. The Moonstone is the source of the rocks. I took it instead of Princess Rapunzel and gained control over the rocks. I, I’m sorry. I-I betrayed her.”

Cassandra hugged herself as she collapsed kneeling to the ground.

The captain was beyond shocked. Of anyone to betray the princess, Cassandra wasn’t even on the list. “What? Why?”

“I remember, I remember, Mother.” Cass said, hesitantly.

The captain flashback to the night twenty years ago already but that he remembered as if it was just last night. The king calling for help. The chase through the forest. Finding a little girl in an isolated cottage. Seeing the princess in the kidnapper’s arms while she cut the bridge and a little girl crying for her mother. A little girl he had adopted.

He kneel beside his little girl. “I’m sorry.”

“I just wanted a destiny too.” Cass said, covering her weeping face.

He hugged his daughter, he didn’t understand what had happened to her, only that it hurt her, and he wanted to help her. “I know.”

She began to sob. “Why did Rapunzel take my mother. Why didn’t mother love me? I tried so hard to do what she wanted but I couldn’t do it all. Why did she love Rapunzel most?”

He held his daughter close as she wept into his shoulder. As Rapunzel’s lady-in-waiting she would be told many confidential things, but it looked like Rapunzel had not confided much of the tower life with Cassandra. Or maybe Cass had never asked.

He had been on the team that had debriefed the princess. She had described a life filled with, well torture. Corona was not the kind of kingdom to torture people, but he knew other kingdoms that were and had read up on the subject after the kidnapping. The princess had casually talked about things that were very much torture and abuse and she had somehow survived eighteen years of it. He guessed that somehow being the literal embodiment of the Sundrop had insulated her somehow, but she worked so hard to get everyone around her to like her. She had that need to be liked like a glass of water on a hot day, like her very survival depended on being liked. He worried about that as that would make her easy to manipulate when she became queen, but hopefully they could train that out of her.

Part of why he had pushed for Cassandra to be the princesses lady-in-waiting was because she was so honest about her feelings. She couldn’t fake it for the princess which the princess needed as practice. He didn’t think Cassandra had remembered being the daughter of the kidnapper. And he never thought something like this could happen.

“She didn’t.” He said in that flat voice he used to intimidate the worst criminals.

That snapped Cassandra out of her weeping, she pulled back to look her dad in the eye. “W-What?”

“The kidnapper didn’t love the princess at all. She tortured and abused the princess every day of her life to keep her in the tower forever. She used the princess for her healing hair and that was all.” He told her.

“But the paints and…” He shook his head.

“Those were just ploys to keep the princess in the tower and not mope.” He said, with an emphasis on mope since he could not stand that and it had been an issue between them in her teenaged years.

A corner of her mouth came up a little at that. The princess could mope like no one they had ever seen.

A look of horror came across Cassandra’s face. “I betrayed Raps. I took the Moonstone. I crossed the line. She’ll never forgive me.”

He took hold of her arms, because he was sure she was going to leap up and run away and he didn’t think he could catch her even with horses. “Cass, I don’t know if she will or won’t, but you have to stay with me. Corona is in trouble, the Saporians have taken over.”

“Wait, what? How?” Cass asked.

“Andrew and Varian broke out of prison. Andrew came back with a gang of Saporians and somehow they changed the king and queen’s memories so Varian was their most trusted advisor. They do whatever he says. The whole kingdom is out mining green crystals for Varian.”

Cassandra’s eyes scanned back and forth as she searched her memory. “The Wand of Oblivium.”

“A wand of what?” he asked.

“It’s a memory wand. We ran into it a while back ourselves. We have the book that goes with it. There’s a counter potion.” Cass said.

“A counter potion? Where’s the book?” Hope, real hope, flared in his heart. The first time in a long time.

“Back in the Caravan, or rather what’s left of it. It fell off a cliff.” Cass explained.

“Is everyone okay? What happened to the princess?” he asked.

“She flew back to Corona in a balloon, with the others.” Cass said.

Thank the Sun that the princess was still alive, but flying into the teeth of the enemy was not the best place for her. He would never be able to get there in time. But he could help his daughter and they could at least come back with the counter-potion to the memory wand. That was something.

#fanfic #captain of the guard #tangled the series #rapunzels tangled adventure

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quarantingz · 4 years

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oop mind dump(!), half-baked thoughts (!), usual confusion(!), being busy(!), efficiency(!), procrastination(!) & none of the above(!)

enjoy :))

[written on] 7 april, tuesday

[intended to post on] 7 april, tuesday

[intended to post 2.0 on] 8 april, wednesday

[finally posted, after much procrastination and probably just laziness, on] 9 april, thursday

Hi there!

With a lack of a profound statement to start off this entry, I’ll just say this…my mind is as scattered and non-sensical as ever! What’s new?

Second coffee in, I’m thinking about, as the title suggests, a lot of things (with as much caffeinated enthusiasm as it suggests)! I definitely didn’t think I was going to be writing a post today because I thought yesterday’s entry [monday’s] was heavy enough that I could simmer and ponder over it for a while longer. But I guess, as things go, and because I naturally must write things down, I need to write everything that’s going on in my head right now - before I forget, but also so I can pRoCeSs it :)

I will definitely not get through everything I think I want to write about in this one post, and for the sake of keeping it short and still somewhat legible and engaging, I will try my best. Maybe I will do a part two (??). Hmmm maybe I won’t haha. We’ll see how this goes.

Here we go…enjoy…

So as I was swinging my arms and getting a good stretch of the legs on our family “night” walk yesterday, Tali asked me, “did you have a good day today?”. It was a simple question and one I always answer with a “yeah kinda, did a few things, wish I did more, but tomorrow will be better!”. I like looking on the bright side, but it really got me thinking about what it means to be busy and how society has placed a lot of emphasis on it currently.

I recently read an article on It’s Nice That called, “You are More than Your Output”, which was an interesting read on this idea of “busyness”, the pressures on what we do for a living, self-definition from this and our relationship with work. Oosh, it was confronting and I definitely needed to discuss this with someone further. So of course I decided to send it to Gwen, Cullz and Paulz (there’s something so comforting and encouraging to know that I have people in my life who creatively challenge and most importantly, understand my journey as a creative, post-graduation).

Twas good discussions and what they said was so so good (got my brain juices flowing for sure), but I want to briefly touch on this topic and my thoughts about this…I love being busy, in fact, as I’ve mentioned before, I thrive off being busy. As bizarre as it sounds, I’m almost like an adrenaline junkie who gets off of busy schedules and long lists of TO-DOs. I like to ambitiously jam-pack my day with the most things I can do and “tick off” in ONE day. Sounds overwhelming and you’re probably thinking I’ll burn out eventually and I won’t always like this once I have a full-time job. But for now, I like that feeling. It makes me be and feel productive. And although I regularly remind my friends to take a break and relax in order to rejuvenate, I can’t seem to take this advice myself. I constantly feel like I’ve drunk five cups of coffee within 20 minutes, so my heart usually feels like it’s going to beat its way out of my chest, and my mind is so full, it’s almost incomprehensible and confusing.

Anyway, back to productivity…this feeling is probably the reason why I struggle with self-love a lot - if I’m not achieving everything on my list, I’m not being productive enough, it is not a “good day” and I’m not…“succeeding” in life. Which again, is all about MINDSET, people!

Yes, everything does comes with balance, prioritising and re-evaluating what’s the most important things in life at any given time. Sorry, but I feel like this entry will just raise more questions and half-baked thoughts (ha, managed to tick that off the list!), than actually solving anything.

I guess what I want to touch on here, is not so much on the debate about whether you should be busy or not, it’s more about dismantling these personal-constructs that we have in our minds…

Ahhh, another topic to elaborate on (solely) for another time I guess (…??).

*** SIDE-NOTE (COZ WE LOVE A SIDE-NOTE) ***

Right now [tuesday, 2.40pm], my eldest sister sits on the La-Z-Boy, rocking back and forth trying to write a new idea for a new script. My dad too, sits facing the same way as her towards the ranch slider and garden, bowl of sweet mung bean soup in hand, relaxing in a foldable picnic chair for his “break”. I can’t help but smile at this scene and feel very happy and content in where I am right now. It also makes me chuckle at the contrast of their peaceful reflections with my scattered mind and furious typing. My frantic fingers almost echo in the quiet space that is my living room. I like this. I had only wanted to write one word down for this entry before I forgot it (then finish this piece tomorrow, when I felt like it), but here I am having written over one page long. I’m also not listening to music, which is rare for me as I like dwelling in the emotions and vibe of the music while I write - it helps me as you know by now. But in this moment, it’s just Tema, my dad, me, my typing and my silent scattered thoughts.

*** END OF SIDE-NOTE (ACTUALLY A SMALL APPRECIATIVE-NOTE) ***

Back to the point…the mere act of typing furiously on my keyboard (ooh links!) actually makes me feel busy and definitely makes me look busy. When someone says, “oh Alyssa, you’re always so busy” or “bro, when are YOU free?”, it kind of makes me feel good - that I’m somehow “succeeding” in life because I actually have things to do. But isn’t it all superficial and just an appearance? Because in my mind, I’m not achieving as much as I want to do within a day or week. Anyway, maybe that’s why a lot of people, even myself, give into this idea of busyness - because we’re fed this belief that to be “successful”, means that we not only occupy ourselves to the max, but we look the part too. That’s apparent in any bustling city, like Auckland, or London and Paris. People are constantly moving and doing things. These cities never sleep and apparently that idea means those cities and people are thriving and being “successful”.

I guess another aspect I want to discuss is the idea of efficiency. For some reason, that word is so mockable, but maybe that’s just because my boyfriend uses that word excessively and I like to laugh at him (because he’s silly, not because I’m a bully, woah, CHILL). So to be busy, and therefore “successful” is also associated with being efficient. Which also relates to B, who applies lip balm VERY STRANGELY, but efficiently…he applies it by swiping the stick across his top and bottom lip at the same time, followed by a giddy “EFFICIENCY G!” EVERY. TIME. This is quite like the idea of “killing two birds with one stone”. The idea of doing the most you can and preferably at the same time in order to optimise time. It also links with the saying, “time is of the essence”. Because we have such a limited time on Earth, people feel like they have to fill everyday and every waking hour doing something - or else we feel unproductive and ultimately a “failure”. I’m not saying everyone feels like this (I do), or that efficiency is stupid and entirely negative. I think it’s entirely individual and lies within our perceptions of the things we actually do and hope to do. Everything is relative (??).

Which brings me to the subject of procrastination. For example, in the span it has taken me to write this blog post, I’ve made myself a bowl of plain porridge for my late 2pm lunch (oop photo reference - twas really nice actually), a toastie with salami, sweet thai chilli sauce, harissa sauce and a lot of pepper (odd mix I know), which I had at 4pm, but now consider as my dinner coz now I’m stuffeddddd. I’ve also made hummus (which I think I want to write about next - there’s a metaphor in there that I want to exploit lol) for the fam, folded all of the whites and made the cinnamon apple filling for Tema and I’s mini pies. Talk about procrastination…see here, maybe this isn’t “procrastination”!

The issue lies in how we prioritise and give importance to certain things in our life. And in this case, I’m still being “busy”, but my perception of what I’ve done is that these are menial tasks - they are of lesser importance and priority compared to other things on my to-do list. Again, it is all relative. This comparison between certain things we do is what makes us fall into this trap of self-punishment and “failure” (again, maybe it’s just me). So when we do the thing that seems less important, we consequently feel unproductive . But I had been meaning to make hummus since last week, and I intended to eat lunch at 12.30pm, but got too busy looking through some design concepts for my friend, AND I was meant to fold the whites so my dad could have a clean set of singlets for this week. And lol, I wanted to make pie filling because we all craved something sweet (can’t we just do things just coz?). Looking over these, all of them are important! But why do we prioritise our jobs as so and essentially, degrade our life choices??!

Okay, I think I’m going to wrap this up because there’s no point to this entry anymore. But it was interesting to type out all these random thoughts and somehow try to weave them together. But as always, this is just a ramble. You're confused, I’m confused, we’re ALL confused.

(Or maybe I wanted to see whether you could keep up with my 100 mph train of thoughts hehe)

So to tie everything up in a big, definitely-not-an-indecisive-red-or-maybe-blue-nah-feelin-green-now-BOW…be busy, don’t be busy. Procrastinate, don’t procrastinate. BUT, be kinder to yourself. You don’t have to be busy nor productive - give yourself some slack, you’re doing the best you can! So practice SeLf-LoVe.

You owe yourself thatttt much :)

p.s. I think this post was more me procrastinating about writing and posting, because clearly, I took my time procrastinating and eventually posting three days later than when I first wrote this.

Anyway, have a great day y’all (productive or busy or none of the above)!

- a

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omegaplus · 5 years

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# 2,801

Winter 2019 mixtape.

The 4th of July was a total bust and Halloween was no dice. I’m an Industrialist. How could I not celebrate that? I didn’t. But what can you do? It stings having to sit back with your hands tied behind your back while everyone big-ups these days and there’s nothing you can do about it except feel excluded as everyone celebrates. Not Christmas. It was coming and I promised myself I wouldn’t sit out. No, no, no. I texted Aunt Laurie and she told me to come through. The roads to the Deer Park station were wide open and sparse of cars. Partly sunny, passing clouds. The train arrived on time with none of the construction work or unbearable impatient New York-waiting. Taking the Deer Park line to Penn Station and then the D-line to Coney Island is two hours but it didn’t feel like it. It’s a different feeling arriving here for Christmas than it was last summer when I felt bewildered, wounded, and confused at the same time. On the 25th I felt fine knowing I wouldn’t be sitting home thinking of witches in Christmas dresses but instead spending several hours with my Coney family, free of worry or anxiety. I made sure I wouldn’t drop the ball like the last time.

I watched the fast familiar blur of graffiti-laced walls, trees, buildings, and electric poles speeding by, sitting backwards while listening to Chandra’s Transportation (ha!) and thinking of how much of a real New York City no-wave album it was. I hit Penn Station and from there took the D-line to Surf. Ave. I walk out of the station to wait for a few blistering cold minutes until Aunt Laurie arrives to pick me up and posits me back to her residence where her two giant sons (Michael and Peter), their significant halves, and other close familial components were all waiting for me. Minus her daughter Jane who was with her man somewhere else on the island. My spirits upon arriving were up. Laurie had brothers, sisters, nephews, and her nana rolled in with her French-Creole nursing assistant. She also brought over Big Pete, another component from my Atari Brooklyn youth whom I haven’t seen in years. He was very happy to see me. He quickly realized how fast-forward time went and how old he really was, which terrified him. For starters, he told stories of when him and my old man worked at an electronics shop in late-Seventies Broadway, stories which my sis- and my Aunt Theresa would also tell at great length and amazement. He also remembered me being the mathematician of the family, and asked whatever happened to that career path I assumedly chose.

And this being a full-blooded Italian family, you’d know we go all-out on food. Without question. Garlic bread, ziti, eggplant, lasagna, cold cuts (sopresatta, capicola, salami, pepperoni), diced cheese, chicken cutlet parmesan. You name it, Laurie served it. She brought it all out and was looking to kill the entire family and not with a kiss of death. I pulled her over and asked her if nana’s assistant would join us. Rest assured she would. Good, because I wanted to be sure that everyone gets included; no matter the color, country, or belief system. Everyone plays. The endless yule log was endlessly looping. Not from our classic station WPIX 11 but from The Hallmark Channel so it wasn’t traditional. Accept nothing less. The 13 of us said a pre-dinner prayer, took photos and commenced eating as we passed around large plates of food and helped ourselves to cold-cut platters, endless stories, and everyone being too loud. I almost died in the process.

Since Big Pete mentioned working with my old man at the dinner table, it was about time I called him, who was three weeks in resting at the hospital with respiratory problems. I tried getting him on the line for two hours straight but no results. I wasn’t giving up. I gave it a rest to tell my aunt about my progress with my anxiety / depression and so far so good. She fed me dessert in cookies, chocolates, mints, and truffles. Christ, make it stop. I learned Big Pete and Michael were hiding out in their storage shed just relaxing out. I swore to Big Pete and said “look, let me make this happen”. So I tried one more time and, what do you know? My old man picks up. 77 and still hanging on to dear life, literally. I tell him my current whereabouts and said someone from his past wanted to talk to him. He was scared shitting. I told him to hold on and passed the phone to Big Pete.

“Hey, how are ya’? Remember me? Remember Norman’s House Of Deals on 22nd Street, eh? You remember me bustin ya’ chops on the assembly line, don’t ya’?”

My old man froze in fright. He didn’t know what to think. He thought this was This Is Your Life or I Got A Secret starring Gary Moore and his zip-a-dee-doo-dah bowtie. He didn’t recognize him. Big Pete kept pushing but my old man couldn’t remember. Again, he’s 77. His memory is a bokeh blur and only getting worse. Big Pete gave up and handed the phone to me. I Got A Secret now became Password and gave my old man a vital clue: Aunt Laurie? Now he finally got it. His mind was blown. Now was the time to jog his stale memory even more and gave the phone back to Big Pete. It all came back to my old man now. He couldn’t believe it. Up came the memories of box-truck burglaries, stick-ups, cheap goods, Jewish mobsters, and the best of low-end digital electronics sold during the gritty, lawless, dirty Seventies New York. They conversed for a good five minutes before declaring an end to memory lane.

Michael’s kid was tearing up all of his Christmas gifts: a mix of toys, books, educational gifts, and clothes. We sat and have more food. Aunt Laurie had more surprise guests come over: two hipster male friends who were her assistants and a younger Mexican girl who was dating one of them. They all sat and spoke about their future plans while Peter and I cracked jokes over chocolate pastels. The night was almost over and Laurie dialed up my Uber for the ride home. But before I said goodbye to everyone, she handed me $100 and a Christmas card which everyone co-signed. She didn’t have to and I didn’t ask for it nor deserve it, but she hushed me nicely to take it and I didn’t have the option to say “no”. My ride arrives and now I say goodbye to everyone until next summer. I walk out the front door and Peter follows me out. His tall death-metal stature intimidates the Uber driver, but rest assured nothing was going to happen as we repeat the legendary drive I had last summer: the gauntlet of The Belt Parkway through Caesar’s Bay, under the Verrazano Bridge, Sunset Park, Red Hook, and through the Hugh L. Carey Tunnel, lower Manhattan, Times Square, and this time ending at Madison Square Garden. What was different about this ride was no setting sun but a partial moon, passing clouds, and a night sky. No ships, bicyclists, fata morgana, or the wavering sparkle shimmering on the waters. No flashbacks of what was, or what it could be.

Since Black Friday, I’ve shifted down to something more relaxing. My blood’s not racing as much, save for a few occasions where over-anxious customers have this unnecessary urgency to intercept and ambush me for their petty non-issues to catch. Manners and etiquette are dead. They turn into children or those “best buddies” who act like they’ve known me for 20 years, whistling at me to “come over here” or use their magical handwaves to grab my attention like I’m a city cab from halfway across the store. Who the fuck do you people think you are? Things have been much quieter at the residency. The key players have been away for most of the last three months. I walk in and wait for no lights on or doors wide open. Drama has been to a minimum. No messes left unclaimed for because of sheer laziness. The smell of stale aerated piss on the bathroom floor is now a non-issue. The grime is gone. No television up at 100 that I hear double volume through the walls at four-in-the-morning when I go to sleep, or the clinking of plates and shuffling of utensils in action because someone must eat at five-in-the-morning after their eight-hour television marathon run. I can focus on stability for once. I’m not waiting for the next thing to throw my concentration off or expect to wake up in the middle of the night and not fall back asleep again. The recent months haven’t been as tense as the previous six before it, but the quiet allowed something else for me to focus on.

Last winter I felt so good about myself. Bonuses, tax refunds, benefits, and extra paychecks set me up for what was a very promising time. I re-built myself and saw potential in me I never seen before. I had essential conversations with my friends and allies at the radio station. They sat with me during my show to talk about who’s on the radar, what books we read, surprise music trades, and sharing their hotly-anticipated city shows with the rest of us in such a passionate fervor. There was so much in high-resolution color I could see, the sense of euphoria in longer sunshine days, the hours spent thumbing through vinyl racks, and the lines of communication with certain people made me feel I had something to look forward to.

It’s a new year, and this winter made me feel hopeless. Surprise medical bills, traffic tickets, overspending, and rumors that tax season would make most people pay heavily all have me worried. With a choke on funds, acquisitions are at a halt. I have plans for a record-store tour for the end of the year and buying a new camera kit when money is put away but it may not happen. I was given a $3,000+ raise over twelve months as the company wants to retain talented staff but the money can’t wait. Most of the vital players at my station moved on. I don’t see them as much as I want to so the art of discussing new artists, hidden discoveries, or the topic of whether bands [that haven’t released a record in decades] should sound the same in pleasing their fanbase is mostly lost. I still have my co-workers and we recently had a garage potluck and Switch night, not a return to huge entrees at my neighborhood arcade. Every month not taking the train to the city is time, breath, and opportunity lost, and I won’t get it back. That’s it.

But the one most all-important thing missing is having someone on the other end to go toe-to-toe with music, literature, counter-culture, philosophy, and ways of thinking and seeing that you couldn’t imagine; someone to engage you with a text to say hello when you came home from a full day’s worth of travel. Things which are so rare I can’t begin to imagine. The ones who meant a lot to you before instead leave you with a new hefty emotional debt on top of the others still left unanswered for. And they come with daily interest, too. It’s human nature. What’s also missing was the soul of last year. Playing Sacred Bones and Hospital Production tributes on the air. Silent Servant, Lust For Youth, Molly Nilsson, Blvck Ceiling, Ninos Du Brasil, Rainforest Spiritual Enslavement, Boy Harsher; all the sounds that made for a distinctive feeling and added to all that was going on around me. It’s now replaced with The KVB, Kanga, Void Vision, Figure Study, Azar Swan, Body Of Light, Broken English Club, Cabaret Nocturne, Soma Sema, Undertheskin, and Pink Turns Blue. It’s not the whole story as you’ll see. I know I’ll never have it the way it was then and the residue of last winter lingered on for this one to smell almost the same. If only the ones most essential to me could’ve stayed would the last few months had a better outcome. I’d only wish.

But, every season is a new game we try to make the best of. Spring is here and summer’s coming. I won’t give up. I refuse to let my anxiety and depression get in the way of what could be a tremedous payout. I’ll make it happen. I know I will.

Winter 2019 mixtape:

Boy Harsher “Face The Fire”

KVB, The “Afterglow”

Silent Servant Shadows Of Death And Desire

Void Vision “The Source”

Lebanon Hanover “Babes Of The ‘80’s” (Tobias Bernstrup RMX)

Ron Morelli Disappearer

Daylyt Let There B Light

Kanga self-titled

Nas “Simple Things”

Masta Killa & Inspectah Deck & GZA “Silverbacks”

Schwefelgelb Dahinter Das Gesich

Cash McCall “Omega Man”

Wild Man Fischer “I’m Working For The Federal Bureau Of Narcotics”

Dick Walter “The Fat Man”

Firefall “Strange Way”

Ice Cube “Arrest The President”

Figure Study “Wait”

Fontaines D.C. “Too Real”

Adrian Belew “Big Electric Cat”

Azar Swan Savage Exile

Primitive Weapons “Keep The Lights On”

Chandra Transportation

End Of A Year / Self Defense Family “Alleta”

Mirrors For Psychic Warfare “Tomb Puncher”

Body Of Light “Holding You”

Vatican Shadow “Tonight Saddam Walks Amidst Ruins”

Adult. “Lick Out The Content”

Molly Nilsson “A Slice Of Lemon”

Broken English Club “Channel 83”

Urochromes “Night Bully” (Boy Harsher RMX)

Strahinja Arbutina “You Don’t Need This In Your Life”

White Ring “Leprosy”

Cabaret Nocturne “Blind Trust”

Natural Assembly “She Walks In Beauty”

Drvg Cvltvre “I Look For Your Face In The Neon Lights”

Soft Moon “Like A Father”

Primitive Weapons “Negative Mass”

Drvg Cvltvre “Blood Eagle Brigade”

Soma Sema “Artificial Heart”

Grun Wasser “Limits For Limits”

Undertheskin “Cold”

Emptyset “Dissolve”

Pink Turns Blue “I Coldly Stare Out”

Soko “Ocean Of Tears”

Billy Cobham “Tenth Pinn” (live)

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