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safyresky · 1 month

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I HAVE YET TO GO TO BED SO IT'S STILL TECHNICALLY MARCH 13TH SO WOE, FROSTMAS YEAR THREE BE UPON YE, AO3!

Give it a read on ao3 HERE.

Year Three

After failing to "make amends" over dinner with Jacqueline, Santa Jack visits the other Frosts to extend an "olive branch".

Physically PAINED ME to write--because I 100% essentially rewrote this chapter while prepping it for crossposting--this year because it's the year Jack goes to see the rest of the fam. And man, reading THIS VERSION OF A REUNION, WHERE MTF DIDN'T HAPPEN, AFTER CRYSTAL SPRINGS HAS BEEN FINISHED? I dealt so much psychic damage to myself, oy vey.

Would've been up sooner but we had a BIG EMOTIONS night here at safyresky industries. Eh, what are you gonna do? Bottle it up like these sprites do? FUCK NO! THAT'S HOW YOU FUCK YOURSELF UP! AH!

Word count went from 7k to 12k. I am SO skilled out of control. RIP.

Not sure what to heck a Frostmas is? I got you, boo! Have a summary:

The Twelve Years of Frostmas

Nobody but he and I knew the truth. Jack wasn’t supposed to be Santa; I wasn’t supposed to be Jack Frost. He thought being Santa would fix everything. He was horribly, horribly mistaken. [My take on Jack’s reign as Santa during the Escape Clause. MAJOR OC involvement AND First Person POV from said OC. Finally cross posting THIS behemoth! Enjoy!]

Interested? Take it from the top HERE on ao3! And here on ff dot net, where it is done up to Year 10.

And, of course, take a snippet from Year Three below the cut!

It was a moment before the doors swung open, revealing nobody. Jack frowned, confused. He blinked, peering into the foyer. “Can we help you?” Jack slowly lowered his gaze, taken aback by the new, slightly sassy voice. It was high pitched; gratingly so, almost. His heart skipped a beat when he finally came face to face with the figures that had answered the door. They were a matching pair. A boy and a girl. The boy held one of the doors open; the girl stood beside him, holding the other door open with one hand, the other sitting on her hip. They looked remarkably similar: same facial structure, freckles in all the exact same places along their faces. They were also very much on fire, the boy’s hair burning up, the girl’s hair lit at the ends, sparks cracking as she and the boy stared him down, unblinking. And that was when Jack realized that he was a big brother. AGAIN. Doubly so, in fact. It was the only logical explanation, after all. Twins. On fire twins. With very familiar noses and jawlines under the roundness. And very familiar golden eyes. Seems the next set of kids had finally taken after his father. “Hi,” he said, finally finding his voice. “Hey.” “Sup.” “Who are you?” “Who am I? You don’t know who I am? Actually, I should be asking you that. Both of you.” “Well, we asked you first, so…” the boy shrugged, looking up at Jack perplexed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You don’t know who I am? Really?” They shared a look. “Nah.” “Not a clue.” “The jacket doesn’t give it away? The silly hat?” “Ha. It is a silly hat, isn’t it?” The girl snickered. “What about our faces? We have very similar noses, don’t you. Don’t you think?” “Yours is way more crooked,” the boy pointed out. “Do you get punched a lot? I bet you do.” The girl turned to the boy. “He has a kind of gets punched a lot aura, don’t you think?” The boy ignored her, tilting his head. “Are you supposed to be Santa?” “Yes!” “You don’t look like Santa at all.” “Yeah man. Way too frozie around here,” the girl squinted, gesturing to her chin. “And you’re way too skinny,” said the boy. “I’ve been watching my weight! Way too many cookies, and you know, the holly jolly look just isn’t my thing.” “Too many COOKIES?!?!” “The holly jolly look? Isn’t? your thing? But that’s Santa’s thing. That’s his whole shtick!” “YOU CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MANY COOKIES! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

WHAT INDEED, FIERA! WHAT INDEED.

Down to see how the Frostmas Family Reunion goes? FEAST YOUR EYES HERE!

---

And mind my errors, ehehehe.

I wanted to get this posted tf UP so I whooshed it in there after read through #2, and read through #3 is happening presently, if I manage to make it through without distraction. I started a thing called Frostmas Asides? More on that later, but it has my attention rn, and also I am EMOTIONALLY E X H A U S T ED and may just crawl into bed. Absolutely wildin given my penchants for late nights and that it's only midnight o'clock. Does NOT bode well for CR tomorrow, which is funny bc Time Change had me staying up ALL SORTS OF LATE THIS WEEK! AH!

Anyway, some fun changes abound! What's 🆕 for Y3: 2024 Edition:

Upped Bernard sass (delightfully so I think)

Wrote a whole new set of notes to get a vibe of where everyone actually was at, keeping MTF in mind and how the parents specifically are feeling when it occurs in CS

Added another brief bop into the present, with Jack recounting to Jacqueline where she, of course, interrupts him 🤪🤭

And then hits you with angst 😶

Winter's fierceness was upped; Fiera's anger is apparent, and Fino's general inquisitiveness/unease after it all is more apparent lol

WHOLE ASS ENTIRE NEW SCENE OF BLINTER COMFORTING THE KIDDOS POST JACK'S LEAVE. IT PULLS AT THE HEARTSTRINGS, AND, Y'KNOW, IF YOU'VE READ FROSTMAS UP TO THE MOST RECENT YEAR, MORE HINTS THAT WINTER KNEW ABOUT THE BAD THING ALL ALONG >:)

That takes place in the morning room by the window where Jacqueline waited, but this time Blinter's waiting for her, and it's--they--IT'S POETIC, OKAY??? AH!

I think that's everything. I'm too tired to properly recount??? Despite having this rotating in the head all day, lol. Hmu if you notice any GLARING typos! And enjoy Year Three! >:)

#dani speaks #ttyof #frostmas #the twelve years of frostmas #fanfic #the santa clause #the santa clause 3 #aus #ocs #dani writes #frostmas on ao3 #hey! tag readers! if you hit these before clicking the readmore! there's new shit in this chapter now!!!#okay let me get this out now lol #can't wait to look at this post tomorrow afternoon and find twenty typos all over again 🤣🤣🤣#i'll update the chapter on ff dot net after i edit it proper on ao3 lol #and i'll reblop with those links too afterwards #tho this is mainly about frostmas on ao3 tbh!#OK ENOUGH OUT OF ME. TIME TO CHUG FIZZY LIFTING DRINK AND GO TO BED #SLEEBY HOURS.

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sunshineram · 1 year

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woe, boo be upon ye

#hee hoo #little fellas #boo #???????#sure why not ooga booga #<- ha get it #these little fellas are from a bigger drawing i scrapped #but i really liked how they turned out :)#sheep scribbles

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the-six-fingered-villain · 3 years

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Addiction, man. I’m taking a couple days off of cannabis which, while not physically addictive, has certainly nestled itself in my mind and heart...

A couple thoughts...

I’m not going to self diagnose myself with anything (I like to maintain that I’m exceptionally normal, exceptionally average) but I do recall what a blessing cannabis was when I picked it up around age 30 (7-8 years ago).

I was never offered alcohol, cigarettes, or any sort of drug in my youth... maybe a drink in college... Maybe. What little drinking I’ve done since then Did Not Agree and thankfully I’ve no temptations there. Am happy that I’m a relatively latecomer to cannabis though because... yeah.

That blissful “stoner hangover” from early edibles remains a joy to reflect upon. I vividly recall that after I’d started consuming more reliably more reliable stuff that I felt a very strong mental shift: “You” became “I”.

Self criticism is important and I support such reflections- but when your brain hisses negative “you” statements it’s... nonsensical and bad. Who is making that analysis? It’s coming from me. Grappling with such thoughts- because moderation is the key to success- became much easier when framed as “I”. If “I” was stupid then “I” could do something about it. It made synthesizing the feedback easier and more actionable. Someone or something else leveling such complaints felt more like bullying, an outside judgement being passed that I was merely a victim of. I definitely feel something about cannabis fundamentally kicked off a restructuring for me that I appreciate.

Next came the quieting. I love love love confusion- self aware madness has always appealed. Once you feel like you know what’s going on, that you’ve a firm control of things- that’s the beginning of the end. Self assurance leads to a cessation of questioning which... is a path I don’t want to go down. One should always wonder and one should always pursue questions that catch one’s interest. Being stoned feels like pruning thoughts- sometimes controlled, sometimes uncontrolled- and allows for space for a single idea to grow (into a mess? into something beautiful? ymmv)

I’m a very active stoner- I make lists of activities to help me spend my time high well. Because when worry and anxiety and concern are stripped away (and what are they if not thoughts about the future or things I cannot control at the moment) then I’m mostly left with curiosity and pride. Curiosity drives the questions (what would happen if two books fucked? does the genre of the offspring blend its parents or would it select perhaps the narrative structure of one and the characters of another?) and pride assures me that whatever answer I come up with is worth pursuing. A “yes and” encouragement rather than a “but what about?” interjection or protest.

When I craft stoned, when I write stoned, when I draw stoned I’m giddy with delight that what I’m doing is good. Is it actually good? What is good? The opinion of my peers? The opinion of the masses? Outside thoughts and accurate modeling of things beyond me or my control-- boo to that! The stoned brain becomes a depth first search engine and I chase down the results of a single idea.... If I’m doing it right. Normally/sober, I’d say I run a more breadth first approach- trying to take everything into account and slowly refining it all at once (certainly how I think in a work environment). Too much room for doubt and self criticism and comparison to shimmy its way in and gum up the whole process of creativity and joy.

Anyway, everything has been fine except I’ve blown my tolerance during the pandemic. In Normal Times I’d have other activities or events that would prevent me from getting high every night. I don’t tend to enjoy being high around sober people and there’d be other things (gaming, driving, being Responsible) that I couldn’t/shouldn’t be high for. As work nibbles away on one half of my soul and my partner’s woe and problems drag down the other, my retreat into cannabis has become more desperate (so so very much I don’t want to think about) and the effect the drug has on my system weaker and weaker.

So here I sit, trying to enjoy the rain and knowing that I’d enjoy it more with a joint. I’ve a laptop open before me but rather than write fiction, I’m writing this. I’ve got too much crap just bouncing around in my head to focus and pursue my frivolous fun... It’s not that previous joys have been muted by embracing the drug, I just know now the sweet relief of an emptier head.

For the briefest flash yesterday I considered having a drink when partner made a joke about it. That never happens.

Anyway, I look forward to Monday night when I shall allow myself a joint.

#it's only my 5th day off #personal mutterings posted to exorcise them from my mind #addiction #six says things

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lordofcrowns · 4 years

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DRUNKEN SAILOR // ARCHIVE LINK

Despite the encroaching night, the docks were still bustling. Burly workers milled about, sailors and merchants alike going about the last of their business for the day, the latter hawking wares and seeking to crack open the coin purse of any passerby they could convince.

This far north, the leaves on the trees grew a medley of color ranging from rich indigo to bright cobalt blue, now dusted with a sugary coating of peach and amber sunset lighting. Speckled between the deep blues were flames of orange, brightly burning street lamps that marked the way up the cobblestone steps from the docks into town. Thick clouds hung over the shore, tinged the same colors as the sunset, save one heavy grey cloud that threatened rain. A watercolor painting, all reflected in the mirror of the sea.

On a cliff overlooking the scene was the local inn and tavern. Oil lanterns and tattered banners swayed in the wind, beckoning travelers and locals alike inside, out of the biting cold. On an icy northern night like this, few could resist the comforts of a warm hearth, strong drinks, and good company.

[ MUSIC // AMBIANCE // ARCHIVE LINK ]

Unsurprisingly. The tavern itself was seething with activity. After all, any who were willing to keep the peace were welcome here. Many even hung their weapon belts at the door - trusting the town guard to see to their safety. Red cherry wood was stained purple, drenched in the shade of the cool evening. The building was old - a big, open space with two floors and several hearths, built of stout timber and set upon a sturdy stone foundation. Rugs covered the stone floor, thick curtains kept the draft out, and soft furs were draped over furniture.

In the center of the main hall, down from the ceiling grew one of the local trees, a great spectacle of vibrant blue foliage and inky black branches - limbs that stretched down and had been tied and trained to hold the many, many lanterns flickering brilliant gold and crimson through old, smoke-stained glass, that together made a chandelier. A blend of different tongues, all overlapping and fighting to be heard over one another, caused a din that made it difficult for the innkeeper and her customer to hear themselves.

“Iyrngybet… what you’ve given me here is not even half of what you owe.”

“Aye… that is the right of it, lass.”

The burly Roegadyn man awkwardly rubbed the back of his head and avoided the eyes of the innkeeper. The woman was smaller than him practically by half, but her no-nonsense air had him shuffling his feet and pouting like a schoolboy being disciplined. She sighed at him with rather evident disappointment, but did not seem angry.

“Well… I have horses that need grooming and stalls that need cleaning.”

The Hyur woman hardly had the time to finish her sentence before the brawny man was wrapping his arms around her and picking her up in a tight bearhug. Luckily for her, the rafters in the ceiling were high, so she did not risk hitting her head despite the way he twirled her around.

“Oh, yer a gem, Maude! A right gem!”

“Yes, yes…” Maude did her best to sound exasperated, but the laughter in her voice was palpable. “Put me down, please.”

“O’course.”

He very gingerly set her down, and the freckled woman brushed her skirt free of the many wrinkles the unexpected hug had put in it.

“I will expect you bright and early tomorrow morning, sixth bell. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly!”

Maude, the innkeeper and tavern’s owner, felt a good deal older than her twenty and six summers. A hyur woman with a sharp wit but a kind heart, she opened the tavern and inn to any who would keep the peace, and who agreed to comply with the local guard who watched her door.

Her dress was a layering of mismatched petticoats, cream linen, and an old, many times mended hempen bodice, laced haphazardly with fraying jute cord. Her auburn brown hair was tied back in a long, loosely plaited braid that reached her hip in total length, wrapped about her temple and tying underneath her long hair was the one fine thing she owned - a vivid blue silk sash.

As the tavern’s sole proprietor and the only staff she could truly afford, Maude had her hands full filling and refilling drinks, fetching dried meat and loaves of bread, and assigning rooms to the sailors and travellers as they came and went.

She didn’t mind, though - she liked to be kept busy, and in her handful of years living here, she had grown to love the town, the tavern, and its people. The majority of her customers were regulars she knew by name, the other sailors she vaguely recognized when they passed through during certain months.

There was, however, one figure present this evening she did not recognize at all. He was mild-mannered, unobtrusive - he spoke to the guard before entering and even agreed to leave his sword belt at the door. And much to her delight he paid his coin without hesitation, excuse, or flimsy attempts at bartering. He was garbed in a dusty matte black coat, layered over a simple leather doublet and creamy, low-cut white shirt. Brass buttons had been worn down over time, seams stretched and quilted lapels scuffed from wear and tear. He had introduced himself as a sailor, and he had the look of one. He had thick brown hair and one piercing, gold eye, the left - the right was covered with a leather patch, a relatively common feature amongst sailors. His skin was tan, the corners of his eyes wrinkled, but only in a way that really showed when he smiled.

There was little unnatural or unusual about the Miqo’te, save perhaps a certain lazy grace with which he moved and carried himself. As the evening carried on, she found herself paying him more attention. There was a brooding expression on his face, an almost alarming focus that furrowed his brow and tightened his jaw, that with a suave charm was instantaneously covered once he felt eyes on him. It took him no time at all to warm up to the locals and join in with the drinking.

He held aloft a full tankard, by nature of his height towering over most of his newfound company. He had a gruff, guttural, but still somehow charming singing voice.

“Hey ho, to the bottle I go! To heal my heart and drown my woe. Rain may fall, and wind may blow, But there’ll still be many malms to go! Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain, And the river that runs from hill to plain. Better than rain or a rippling brook, Is a mug of beer that brings me luck!”

This unfamiliar sailor had enough of a boom behind his voice that it filled the room right up to the brim, but even it threatened to be drowned out by the laughter and chorus of voices that joined in alongside it to sing the familiar diddy. A beat rose up, a mix of boots stomping against the wood and fists slamming into tabletops. Maude was sure she had never seen the tavern so full, or so lively.

Iyrngybet was perhaps the loudest and rowdiest of all those drinking, though despite this he always handled himself well. He was the friendly, rambunctious sort - even without the drink. And much to Maude’s relief, he and this new stranger seemed to get on rather well. They were clapping each other on the back and toasting tankards together between verses. The last note of the stranger’s song faded out to thunderous applause and hollers. The Roegadyn wasted no time then in striking up a new rhythm and bellowing out the words to a new ditty. Another popular song, an age old warning about pirates and thieves, the ones that come for naughty children in the night.

“My mother said he listens My father’s seen him walk Stay in bed, asleep at home Be spared the slaver’s lock.

With whip he’ll bind your ankles Blind your eyes with sash and cord And if you cry out in the night Alone he’ll take you aboard.

The slaver snake, he waits With coiled whip and black clad hand Beware the viper's bite, my son Fear Captain Stacy's brand!”

Iyrngybet drained the last of his tankard amidst many cheers, and resounding boos for the pirate in question that the song had referenced.

“Haven’t heard that one since I was a wee child, eh?” A patron said to her as she refilled their proffered glass.

“Indeed,” She replied. “I fear much to his dismay, dear Iyrngybet ages himself by nature of his song choice.”

Though her feet ached and she longed nothing more than to sit down and enjoy a moment’s quiet, Maude couldn’t help but smile and readied herself to pour another round of drinks. At the very least, this stranger and his charm with the crowd made for good beverage sales.

Still, his charm left her with an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. She brushed it off as the excitement of having a new face in town, for after all - it was a rather rare occasion.

Down on the docks, five score sailors were disembarking an unmarked sloop, leaving behind the now pitch black sea and heading up the hill towards the wintery blue forest, and the tavern itself. They moved swiftly and silently, light footsteps barely seeming to touch the ground they tread upon. They wore matching colors of black and gold, and not a word was spoken between them. Hand signals were made, and packs began to peel away, moving through the town and into the woods. All the while, that grey cloud still lingering in the midnight sky grew darker and darker. A storm was imminent.

“Hail to you, good ser. If you seek accommodations for the evening, I have beds for rent.”

The Miqo’te leaned gently from one side to another, fighting to keep himself even slightly upright, before simply nodding. Maude bowed her head and made every effort not to smile at his drunkenness, lest the stranger take offense.

“A room is five-hundred gil. Have you the coin to pay?”

Before she’d even fully finished her question, the Miqo’te had set down a small leather satchel of gil on the bar. Maude pulled the coin purse towards her, counting out what was owed to her swiftly and returning the excess, as well as the pouch, to their owner. She tucked the gil away in the safe kept beneath the counter before straightening up and tossing her scarf back over her shoulder.

“Right this way, then…” Maude used a small key she kept on her person to open a wide, flat drawer beneath her bar, within which were nestled many similarly shaped keys. She selected one and extended her arm.

“I will show you to your room.”

The man simply nodded, pushing himself back a pace from the bar before falling in behind her. He wobbled precariously now and then, after a time deigning to reach his right hand out to trace fingertips along the wall in an effort to steady himself. They ascended a flight of steps, walking at a leisurely pace around the upper level of the atrium of the tavern, where the Miqo’te had to transition to leaning against the wooden banister to keep himself upright. Maude walked slowly, leaving her guest ample room to catch up without rushing him, and meanwhile glanced down at the still drinking and dining patrons below. Laughter still bellowed upwards towards the rafters now and again, but a few - like the Miqo’te she now escorted - were content to begin finding their ways to their beds.

Along the balcony of the atrium they walked, to the far side of the brilliant chandelier and blossoming tree branches, and down a hallway that provided some small shelter from the loud volume of the guests, was the available room she’d chosen for him. She unlocked it and pushed the door open, stepping back and meaning to hand off his key to him. But when she turned around, she could only stifle a small chuckle. He had stopped perhaps five fulms behind her, and was now leaning with his elbow against the wall, head nestled into the crook of his arm. She cleared her throat, swallowing her laughter before addressing him.

“Ser...?”

Maude’s voice trailed off as she noticed he seemed to be very quietly humming yet another drunken ditty. His mumblings could hardly be considered lyrics, but she recognized the tune as one of the ones sung earlier in the night.

“My mother said he listens My father’s seen him walk Stay in bed, asleep at home Be spared the slaver’s lock…”

She smiled to herself, thumbing over the key in her hands and simply hoping the man would find himself just enough to make it to the room he’d paid for. His voice replying to her snapped her out of thoughts.

“How old were you the first time you heard that song?”

“Hm? Why, I suppose I was just a girl when I-”

Maude glanced back up towards him, eyeing him curiously. For perhaps the first time the entire night, she stopped and truly looked at this sailor. She noted the cleverness present in his face. The odd, unsettlingly crooked smile hovering at the corners of his mouth, the dangerous alertness visible in the one, glittering eye she was permitted to see. The way his body wasn’t shaking or swaying at all anymore.

He had been deceiving her all night. This man was not drunk at all.

Now that she was up close to him, Maude couldn’t help but squint at the way she could swear his entire presence seemed to flicker. His thick brown hair seemed to catch the lantern light in bright flashes of turquoise blue, the dusty brass buttons of his coat giving way to brilliant gold.

The longer she studied him, the colder Maude felt. But he just smiled at her, slowly straightening up to his full height. Having regained control of her tongue enough to stop staring dumbfounded, she took a respectful step back, once more offering his room’s key to him. It took every ounce of strength and self control not to stutter or give away her discomfort. She didn’t know who she was dealing with, or why he would lie, but it made fear grip her cold. She knew to be careful.

“You make strange conversation, ser. I think bed rest would do you well. If you need anything else, you need only ask.”

“Or perhaps you are like me.” Though she attempted to change the subject, the Miqo'te overrode her. “Placing little stock in such fanciful tales.”

He spoke slowly and softly, but this did little to dissipate the Hyur’s nerves. She realized immediately that this man had her backed into a corner, and out of the line of sight of the other patrons for the moment.

“Pray, rest easy.”

His voice was like a purr. A quiet rumble deep in his chest. It was as if he’d read her mind, or perhaps he had seen her eyes flick momentarily over towards the hallway behind him.

“I do hope you will forgive my belated introduction.”

Something translucent like scales seemed to ripple and fall from his body as the glamour dissipated. Brown hair instead shone a seafoam teal, worn long save for the short buzz on either side of his temples. The dusty, worn-in coat was now shed for a clean, elegant looking black and gold uniform. There was not a single seam or wrinkle out of place. Polished gold at his shoulders emblazoned with a calligraphic “S” denoted his rank. His hands were covered with a pair of oily black gloves, and adorned with gold rings. One such hand went behind his back, the other in front of him, as he gifted the innkeeper a formal bow, still smiling.

“Captain Cyril Stacy, a pleasure to meet you.”

The Hyur caught her breath a moment, eyes tracing over the man now before her, unsure if they could even be called the same person. As was quite common among some Miqo’te, his breeding was written practically in ink along every sharp line of his face, in his imposing silhouette and broad shoulders. And, despite his casual, perhaps almost jovial demeanor and the superficial camaraderie among the tavern folk earlier in the night, his voice had the immistakible, careless authority of someone wholly accustomed to being obeyed.

She knew the name, she knew the song, she knew the stories. She knew exactly who this man claimed to be.

“Are you mad, or brilliant?” She whispered. “Drawing attention to yourself all evening like that, my good Captain…” She spat his title at him with contempt crisp against her teeth, a mixture of mockery and disbelief. “Among my patrons there is no shortage of bounty hunters. Adventurers who would be eager to claim the prize you proclaim yourself to be.”

Cyril merely chuckled quietly and shook his head.

“You think me more reckless than I am, love. Your patrons will hardly remember the evening.”

Confusion was plastered all over the innkeeper’s face until she took a few moments to listen carefully. It was quiet. The laughter, the chatter, it had all died down.

“What have you done?”

Worry boiled over into panic and Maude picked up her skirts, shuffling sheepishly a few steps aside from Cyril. When he made no move to stop her or block her path, she darted back towards the atrium. She grabbed the banister and leaned over worriedly, taking in the disturbingly quiet scene before her.

A lucky few had made it to the comfortable, fur-draped chairs that surrounded the crackling hearth. The others dozed at their tables, slumped over with heads resting atop folded arms or even one another. A few of the most unfortunate simply collapsed, sprawled out over the bearskin rugs or slumped down in a heap against the wall. It was as if they had been put under a spell, none of them so much as twitched or shuffled in their sleep.

Heavy, slow footsteps behind her alerted her of Cyril’s approach, followed closely by his still quiet voice. As he stalked up behind her, he pulled a kerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the sides of his neck clean of the rum he’d splashed on it to make him smell intoxicated.

“Rest assured, they are not harmed.”

These were her patrons, her people - when they came to her establishment they were in her charge. That this man had so easily weaseled his way in and drugged every drinker was a thought both terrifying and humiliating. Anger boiled in her blood, and without thinking she whirled around and pulled her hand back to strike the man in the face. In the middle of her motion she seemed to realize what she was doing was unwise, and in that split second of hesitation, Cyril reached up and grabbed her wrist before she had the chance to slap him. He still spoke softly, even as he threatened nonchalantly to crush her arm in his grip.

“You ought to be thanking me. I may very well have rescued your floundering business from the softness of your heart.”

Maude grimaced and attempted to tug her arm away, to no avail.

“I beg your pardon?”

In one fluid movement, Cyril spun her around - holding her arm behind her as he marched her back over towards the railing. He reached his arm about her and rested his free hand on the banister while he directed her attention to the dozing patrons.

“Look at the sorry lot of them. Drunkards and beggars. Doubtless, some wretched sod lies in a heap behind the building, threatening to drown in his own vomit. Those that can stand up leave the next morning without paying what they owe, to return again the following eve. Such people are worthless if left to their own devices.”

Maude’s bright eyes darted from one sleeping form to another - Iyrngybet, Damien, Eliza, Ihri'a, Bardi, Oshonne… She knew them by name! They were her townspeople, her friends, her family. And to hells with it if they couldn’t always pay in coin! They paid her back in other ways, helping her tend to the establishment. To her, that was more than enough.

“Rapacious man! Does your black heart beat only for coin? A man drowned in the drink is more honorable than you’ll ever be.”

“Oh, my darling. You wound me with such harsh words. I am not an evil man. You should know...”

As he spoke, his hand left the bannister, gloved fingers sliding up to caress and curl about Maude’s bare neck.

“I do this for you.”

Maude snarled and wrestled herself free of the Miqo’te, scrambling a few paces away from him and whipping around to face him. Again, he made no move to hold her in his grasp, nor to stop her from wriggling free. And even as she glared at him with fire in her eyes, she was well aware her efforts to free herself of his hold were only successful because he allowed them to be.

“Wh-what in the world? How dare you insinuate I would do business with your kind!”

“Abandoned by an unfaithful husband.” The pirate began. “A beloved sister, dead so young.” He took a step towards her as he spoke. “Aging and ailing parents, to whom you send every small amount of coin you can spare…”

Maude’s heart was racing. How much did this man know? So beside herself with shock was she, the innkeeper didn’t realize she’d been shuffling away from him until her back hit the wall. He brushed her hair back behind her shoulders, tracing his hand along her cheek to her chin and tilting her face up to look at him.

“And a kind heart. One far too soft for business. But you need not worry any longer. I will look after you.”

He smiled softly at Maude, keeping his one eye on her as he brought his other hand to his ear just long enough to tap the receiver of his linkpearl.

“Move in.”

There was a bright blue flash of light and almost instantaneously a resounding boom as what was surely lightning split the sky above the tavern. The door to the tavern flung back on its hinges, the guard that should have been watching it absent from his post, as uniformed sailors filed into the building. Maude yelped and shrunk back in surprise. Through the glass windows she could vaguely make out the silhouette of a massive airship, shrouded in a thick, unnatural fog that it seemed to use as a cover, teetering precariously close to the cliff.

And at the sixth bell of the next morning, Iyrngybet - like so many others - was nowhere to be found.

#IT'S DONE I DID IT SLAPS IT DOWN #my writing #drabbles #captain cyril stacy #normal disclaimers for Cyril being a jerk #writing on tumblr #ffxiv #ff14 #Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy 14 #ffxiv balmung #ff14 balmung #balmung #balmung server #balmung rp #ff14 rp #ffxiv rp

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nate-the-content-creator · 4 years

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#1 Contender

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome back The Greatest Faunus Who Ever Lived! Aaron Ares!”

A collective gasp went through the gathered VCW crowd, and the familiar music that heralded the former X-Division champion echoed about the arena. The jumbo-tron above the entrance ramp proved any doubters wrong seconds later. The words: “The Greatest Fauns Who Ever Lived” appeared while the arena lights darkened. A spotlight had appeared on the entrance ramp, and sure enough there he was. After a full year of being away from the company, Aaron Ares had made his return to VCW.

Though there was a rather mixed reaction to the wildcat Faunus’ return. While yes people were excited to see him back in VCW, others had remembered all to well his rather bad and pompous attitude he had outside of the ring. That attitude had alienated him from a good portion of VCW’s fanbase. As if there was little difference between who he was both in and outside of the ring.

Ares looked like he was dressed for action. In fact, he had on the same ring attire he wore when he faced off against Wave in the two of three falls match that saw him lose the championship he held for more than a year.

Making his way to the ring, Ares slid in under the bottom rope, before he in his usual rather rude fashion, snatched the microphone out of the female announcer, before shooting her a snobby flirtatious wink. Some of the crowd cheered, excited that he was back and back to his usual antics. The other half groaned, and booed seeing he was back to his usual antics.

“You know, they say that the more things change, the more they stay the same.” Ares spoke into the mic as his music died down. “I’ve seen a lot of changes since coming back. New faces, new gimmicks, but the one thing you can count on to stay the same? That’s me.”

There was a groan from the crowd who was none too pleased to hear that classic Ares was not planning on changing who he was, but the wildcat Faunus seemed to revel in that. “Hate it all you want too, but nothing’s changed. And because nothing’s changed, that means one thing! I am still the next in line for the X-Division Championship! I am the number one contender! And do you want to know why!? Because I am invoking my rematch clause for that title!”

The groans then turned to cheers. Despite the attitude of the man in the ring, nobody who watched Ares and Wave’s bout for the X-Division title had any complaints about that barn burner of a two-of-three falls match.

“Yeah! Like that idea don’t you? You like the thought of another match! Well I do too! So Aideen, you get out-!”

However Ares never finished. Different music that clearly wasn’t Wave’s had begun echoing around the arena. Someone else had decided to interrupt Ares, and that someone just so happened to be one of the new talents that VCW had decided to sign on. He was about as tall, if not slightly taller than Ares’ 5′11, and had more of a defined phisque than the wildcat Faunus. Not that Ares looked out of shape. In fact, he looked to be in better physical condition than he did a year ago.

“You know.” The newcomer began. Nobody knew he had a microphone in his hands, until he started speaking. He had a Mistrali accent, and everyone could now get a good look at him, and took note of his dark skin tone, and rather long dreadlocks that would have reached the middle or lower part of his back, were it not for him keeping them bound in a high pony-tail of sorts. “I don’t know where someone like you gets the balls. The balls to just waltz right on back into that ring like you own the place, after not competing for a full year, and demand a title match!”

The newcomer marched down towards the ring, his eyes never leaving Ares as he entered between the top and middle rope. Ares saw that half of his face was painted over in a skull, which made him scoff and shake his head.

“Clearly you don’t know how things work around here then newbie.” Ares said, before he smacked the microphone out of the newcomers hand. That action drew and ‘oooooooooh!’ from the crowd, and an infuriated glare from the dark skinned wrestler. “Look you can glare all you want, but while you’re standing there either seething, or basking in the greatness that is me, let me give you a few pointers on how things go around here.”

“You see...” Ares continued, kicking the microphone he had slapped away out of the ring. “There’s this little thing that happens when a champion. Like I was, is no longer a champion. Like I am. That little thing is, I’m allowed to go straight to the front of the line, to challenge for the title again. Which means, and stay with me here. I’m next in line, and way ahead of ... what did you say your name was again.”

Ares tilted his microphone to the other wrestler, who was also dressed for action, but then immediately took it back. “Ah, you know what? It doesn’t matter. I don’t care who you are, because you’re not who I want in this ri-”

The newcommer interrupted Ares for a second time. This time, by snatching the microphone out of the Faunus’ hands, drawing yet another ‘oooooooooh!’ from the crowd. “Let me tell you something Mr. former champ, things have changed since you’ve been away. You’re not just gonna stroll back in here, and demand a rematch. You’re gonna have to earn it! And my name, is Locke.”

Ares was silent for a few moments, before he slowly walked up to this newbie, Locke, and snatched his microphone back. “Well, very creative name. Undoubtedly it’s got something to do with that stupid hair of yours. Okay Locke, you think I need to earn something I’m already granted due to the clause in my contract. Now I don’t know if you got concussed one to many times, or if you’re just plain stupid. But I don’t have to earn that rematch ... but I tell you what. You give me one reason why you think you’re good enough to step in my ring, I’ll put up my number one contender spot. So tell me, what’s your reason? What do you have to offer?”

Locke grabbed the microphone, but didn’t snatch it out of Ares’ hand. He just held Ares’ arm in place, as he got right in the face of the wildcat Faunus, his expression turning into a snarl. “Just one thing .... Ruthless! Aggression!” With that, Locke struck Ares in the face. The blow sending the wildcat Faunus reeling, and Locke then followed up with a hard dropkick, which sent Ares’ into the corner.

XxXxX

Several minutes later, the match between Locke and Ares had been made official. Whoever won this match, would be the new number one contender for the X-Division Championship. There was a referee in the ring, currently in Ares’ face giving him to the count of five to stop wailing on Locke who was now backed into the corner. Ares continued battering away on the new wrestler until the fourth count, before backing off. He then charged in, delivering a dropkick of his own to Locke, who subsequently slumped down onto the mat.

Either to just be a disrespectful jackass, or to humiliate the newer wrestler, Ares scraped the bottom of his boot across Locke’s face several times, before delivering a running face wash to the newer wrestler.

looking for another chance to humiliate Locke, Ares picked him up by the hair. Which turned out to be a big mistake on Ares part. He was suddenly met with hard strikes to the face and abdomen. Locke seemed to like using more of a brawling style when it came to wrestling, and had returned the favor of backing Ares into the corner.

It was now Locke’s turn to wail away on Ares, and he did so by delivering hard forearm shots to his head, and loud painful looking knife-edge chops to the wildcat Faunus’ chest, which made those in attendance wince at how stiff and painful those chops looked.

Locke stopped at the count of three, but lifted Ares up, and positioned him upside down. He’d put Ares in the tree of woe, and capitalized upon it, by backing into the opposite corner and delivering a hesitation-style dropkick to Ares’ head. That last blow undid the Faunus from the tree of woe, and sent him rolling onto the ring apron.

Thinking big, Locke climbed up onto the top rope from the corner he’d just put Ares into. The wildcat Faunus was in prime position for one of his signature moves. And after making sure he was in a good enough position for it, Locke jumped off the top rope back first in a Coffin Drop.

And he would have made good on that move if Ares hadn’t countered. He’d gotten back on his feet, and caught Locke in mid-air. Both arms now wrapped about the new wrestler, Ares lifted Locke off his feet, and delivered a belly-to-back suplex right onto the ring apron. There was an audible groan from the crowd as that looked like a hard move to have to take, especially the spot where Locke had to take it.

Locke had landed on the mat ringside, and let out a groan as he propped himself against the steel steps. The newer wrestler tried to catch his breath, but Ares wasn’t having it. He charged forward, intending to ram Locke’s head between the steel steps behind his head, and his knee ... only for Locke to roll out of the way, and for Ares to smash his knee against the steel steps. He went head over teakettle over the steel steps, and landing in a heap, groaning in pain and holding his knee.

XxXxX

Aries cried out in pain, as Locke slammed his knee against the ring post. Locke had capitalized on Ares hurting his knee knocking hard against the steel steps. Locke had then wrapped Ares’ leg around the ring post, and was repeatedly slamming Ares’ knee against it. And he would have continued if the referee’s count was at ‘eight’. Locke relented, and rolled back into the ring before the ref had gotten to the count of ‘nine’.

Locke dragged Ares back to his feet, hooking Ares injured leg over the middle rope, and began to lay into the injured limb with rather hard soccer-like kicks. He backed away before the referee reached the count of five. Locke then charged Ares, dropkicking his injured knee, and forcing Ares’ to roll out of the ring onto the apron again.

Reaching through the ring ropes, Locke dragged Ares through the middle rope, going for a spike-style DDT. Which he then hit, driving Ares’ head into the ring, and going immediately for the cover. It was a close two count, but Ares managed to kick out before the third.

Growling in slight frustration, Locke grabbed Ares by the legs, and proceeded to lock in a Sharpshooter. He leaned back, smirking as he heard Ares try to claw his way to the ropes. His smirk widened when he dragged the injured wrestler all the way across the ring, cutting off his means of escaping via a rope break.

Locke smirked,thinking that he had this match won ... until he felt himself being dragged back. Looking back in shock, Locke saw Ares had grabbed hold of the ref, and was being dragged towards the ropes due to the ref dragging Ares.

His plan had worked, as Ares grabbed hold of the bottom rope. However Locke refused to release the Sharpshooter, which prompted the ref to begin a five-count. Locke having until the count of five to break the submission or risk a disqualification.

At the count of four, and with a frustrated growl, Locke released the submission. With Ares on the mat, still holding onto his injured knee, Locke quickly climbed up one of the turnbuckles, onto the top rope. He raised his hand, before dragging his thumb across his throat. He was signalling that he was going to end this match, and quickly jumped off the top rope back first. He was aiming for another Coffin Drop ... Only to be met with two knees to his back.

In that second that Locke had postured to the crowd, Ares had the time to plan a counter. He had gotten his knees up in time to avoid the full effects of the Coffin Drop, though it caused his injured knee a lot of pain. Though Locke was now writhing on the ground as well. Ares slowly, crawled over to the ropes, using them as leverage to get himself back to his feet.

Quickly limping over to Locke, ares grabbed the new wrestler, lifting him up vertically, before dropping him straight down onto his head via his Brainbuster. However Ares wasn’t done. He rolled through, locking his fingers together, and bending Locke’s head back in his signature submission the Last Chancery. And after about forty-five seconds of being locked in the hold, Locke finally tapped out.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, here is your winner, and the number one contender for the X-Division Championship...! The Greatest Faunus Who Ever Lived! Aaron Ares!”

Releasing his hold on Locke upon hearing the bell ring, which signaled the end of the match, Ares slowly got to his feet, having his arm raised by the ref. He then motioned to his waist, signalling that he would soon be wearing the gold of the X-Division Championship!

#pro wrestling au #aaron ares

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cmoon-rabbit4-blog · 5 years

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The Darker Side to Romance writing prompts part 1 of 2

1. The Clingy Yandere and Touch Starved Senpai*

*Note, Person B can also be a Kohai, too, if you so prefer.

Yandere A has become infatuated with B-(Senpai/Kohai)! As A goes about their eliminating rivals to be the only love in B’s life, A takes notice of their B’s behavior whenever touched. B just seems to light up whenever there’s either a hand on their shoulder or back, they’re holding hands with some person, an arm is looped around their shoulders, even when there’s a person pressed against their side, what more often than not happens accidentally though, the last of that little list, not that A cares if it was an accident! After “researching” B’s behavior, A learns that their B is “touch starved”, using to their advantage this information as to successfully gain possession of B’s heart.

Possible scenarios for how A could go about using the knowledge that B is touched starved:

Scenario 1, “B’s cursed, stay away!”: A’s eliminating those rivals that impede A from gaining possession of B’s heart, whether this means eliminating them by literally eliminating them or metaphorically by driving them away from B, can make others start believing that B is cursed, that those that associate with B are going to have something bad happen to them, thus causing people to start avoiding B. This method of using the knowledge that B is touch starved has the double-benefit of 1, keeping others from becoming new rivals for B’s hearts, and 2, drives B into A’s arms as A, if they can keep a handle on their self for long enough, can become the only constant person sticking close to B’s side.

Scenario 2, “I need you, please don’t leave me!”: A could kidnap B, and as B would be in isolation, A would be the only person that B sees up to until A decides to free B. Though it could be hard for A not to as they would have their (senpai/kohai) all to their self, keeping from touching B for days up to weeks until B’s close to snapping at the lack of physical contact, and then touching B affectionately (pats on the head, hair ruffling, cheek caressing, hugs, kisses) would cause B to depend on A to satisfy their touch starvation, as A would be the only person B would be seeing for so long until they’re at that edge.

2. The Hades and Persephone* story

*“Persephone” in this doesn’t actually have to be a deity already before marrying “Hades”.

A is the deity of the Underworld and all that means. A is lonely, tired, and just so done, done, done as they constantly have to deal with paperwork to process souls and the like, traffic jams, and then there’s the souls themselves, petty when they die and all “Boo-hoo-hoo, woe is me! I’m dead!” LORD, is it annoying! Deciding that ‘Hey, I’m the frickin’ deity of the Underworld and all that means, I can go take a walk if I so want to!’, A goes and does just that, going to the surface/realm of the living as to both get a change of scenery and some fresh air to go with, wherein they meet their “Persephone”, B.

B is already a deity scenario: B is the deity of (the seasons, life, whatever have you that has to do with, well, living). B is bored as Hades (^^) because not only is their life stagnant in anything interesting, but their parent is also rather protective over them, keeping them from being able to make their life interesting. B one day goes to gather some (herbs, flowers, whatever have you) from a meadow, where they are then kidnapped and dragged down into the Underworld by A, the deity of the Underworld! B doesn’t know whether to be scared or annoyed, but they are surprised when they find that instead of being treated like a plaything by the rumored to be cruel and cold-hearted A, they are treated more like that of a … queen**? Over a course of time, B begins to fall in love with A, helping them to direct the Underworld and absolve the traffic jams, shut whining souls up, and stem the overflow of paperwork, which while not sounding interesting, actually is! The wonders of good company. The two soon marry, much to the displeasure of the other deities, especially B’s parent who throws a tantrum in an effort to gain their beloved child back! Not wanting the mortals to die prematurely from starvation, because they just got rid of those dang traffic jams and the overflow of paperwork, too, B goes back to the realm of the living but ties their self to the Underworld by eating a pomegranate so they have to return, no matter what the other deities say!

B is a mortal before marrying A scenario: B is a humble mortal, bored with the humdrum of their life’s routine. A, disguised as a mortal, happens upon B’s selling (if herbs or herbal medicines, an apothecarist, and if bread, a baker, and if flowers, florist, so there’s some examples), and A decides why not? As A buys the (example products), A strikes up a conversation with b as they find B attractive. A and B begin talking and A finds their self fascinated by B, and when A has the time to, returns to talk with B every so often, not that the other deities know. B notices that A looks tired and asks about that, A revealing to B that they are of a position of high authority and so with some tiring duties, but not revealing that they are a deity. B surprisingly gives some good advice on the issues bothering A (“If you’ve got whiny brats annoying you, then treat them like whiny brats. They’re coming to you for a reason, aren’t they?”; “Why not delegate those that are subordinate to you to help break up the traffic flow, then?”; “Again, why not delegate your subordinates to help you in the paperwork? I mean, can’t they also help or is it a matter of qualifications? Or are they just too lazy?”). On a whim, A implements some of B’s advice and finds that things are running better in the Underworld! After some time, A realizes that they are in love with B, which brings up a new dilemma: B is a mortal, and A is a deity! While A could wait until B is dead, so that B’s soul is in their domain and so not much of a legal issue which the deities of life, A doesn’t want to wait, because they want B as their queen now! A goes in their disguise one final time to talk with B, hoping B will say yes before revealing to B who they actually are, and when “popping the question”, B asks if they actually thought they were being subtle this whole time with their disguise? A is surprised, drops their mortal disguise, revealing their self as the deity of the Underworld, asking how B knew. B tells that they figured out A wasn’t when B began talking about their life, admitting that they weren’t too sure just what A was but had realized not too long ago that they loved A, whatever A was. They were just waiting for A to realize and if not, whatever. A asks them if this means B will be their queen, B says yes, and they marry … after A gets the blessing from B’s overprotective parent, considering even though B’s parent is mortal, the worst thing ever is a p’ed-off in-law! The other deities aren’t too upset considering it’s a mortal, although the deities of life are a bit upset since technically mortals are part of their domain, but there’s not much fuss until when after B is married and becomes immortal, they become a deity of (whatever have you about life), surprisingly considering***.

**The title of “queen” doesn’t actually mean anything gender-identifying, it’s just a common that queens are female. If you ever read “Dealing with Dragons”, an amazing book, there’s an explanation in it over where female dragons can compete with male dragons to be “king of the dragons”, and that the queen of dragons they had at the time of the competition for the kingship is actually a male dragon, or was it the old queen? It’s been a while. Either way, it’s explained there that there’s just different duties with the different crowns.

***In the Greek mythology, mortals could ascend to deityhood through different means, though usually that means more often than not was through their winning some kind of favor with those “in charge”.

#writing prompts #my writing prompts #they're kind of not that dark? well 2 isn't

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vinyls-and-valentines · 2 years

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For personal reasons I will be listening to this:

#mr. saxobeat is so deeply engrained in my brain it's insane #this all played like. around 2011-2016 if memory serves me right #anyways. woe! summer upon ye!#boo's music taste #Spotify

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fandom-obssessed-writer · 7 years

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Zach Dempsey (requested)

Anon asked if I could write an imagine where the reader was once close to Zach before high school but they drifted apart then reader stumbles upon that one scene where they are drinking near the liquor store and she knows it’s not like him and he says it is because he misses her

Okay so idk if this was supposed to be platonic or romantic, but i was thinking it sounded more platonic than anything so... yeah AND ALSO YAY FOR MY FIRST ZACH

At first you were okay with it, the drifting apart. You two had been fighting over petty things and losing interests in certain things you shared. You two were maturing, becoming adults. While he became a jock and went out to parties and games, you were going to college ready classes and going on blind dates your parents had set up. You got a new group of friends and so did he. It was simple. But then you started to miss him, a nostalgia that needed three years to grow it’s biggest and harshest, a need for Zach to be with you once more. Because once upon a time Zach Dempsey did not care what people thought, and once upon a time, you loved him and he loved you. You were like Ying and Yang, the symbol without a bit of each of the other’s color was Ying Yang. Not Ying and Yang. Now you were just Ying.

So High School was hard, it had always been that way. It became even harder when your newest friend Hannah took her own life. Even harder when Clay became distant because of it. Then you needed Zach more than ever; a simple hand holding yours in reassurance, a pat on the back... even a smile. Instead it was hushed whispers, ignorance, and condolences. They didn’t realize their somber looks helped nothing -- they were nothing. The worst part was you or Hannah’s parents never got a note... or a goodbye. It was just done, like one day your relationship with Zach was. Now all that existed was memories and broken hearts. Just the two.

So you found yourself reliving both every single day. A trip to the local liquor store, a chocolate bar, and a bottle of stolen vodka--sample size of course. Every day that’s where the memories sprung that slowly led to a good day’s heartbreak. Maybe if you had still been friends with Zach things would have been different. Maybe you would not have met Hannah-- maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much. But you couldn’t ever say that out loud, because Hannah was the best person you knew. So losing her in any parallel universe would have stung like a bitch.

it was an exercise in futility. You knew that the same clerk would be there, with the same expression on his face playing the same game. You knew he would charge you the same amount for the same candy bar and give you the same cheeky grin.

So maybe this time it was different. Maybe you just needed a little change. So instead of coming and going, you stood for a while, contemplating the decisions before you. There were so many candies, liquors, and cigarettes. So you grabbed one of each. When the bell above the door jangled you paid no mind, just grabbed your different candy bar before going to the liquor aisle.

“Well, well, well.” You heard a voice behind you.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t need to. That voice was the one that near everyone hated around school but would never say it. Bryce Walker, the high schooler who looked more like a soccer dad than any soccer dad ever. The forty looking one. It wasn’t the time and you weren’t in the mood, so you grabbed the handle of the fridge and yanked it open, going in to grab the bottle you wanted.

“Rum? Bad, L/N. Never thought you were one for drinking.” Bryce asked, suddenly behind you and very, very close. You shuddered and turned to glare at him, pushing his chest roughly.

“Fuck off, Walker. Fucking grandpa looking ass.” You stormed to the cash register before he could react, ordering the clerk to get a pack of cigarettes for you as well. “Here, I’m going to use the bathroom, hold my stuff for me.”

The clerk nodded with boredom before handing you the black key. You stormed passed Bryce once more and he just stared at you as you passed, winking before you were out of sight. You made a face of disgust.

As you looked in the mirror you stared at the blue rings under your eyes, the nights of countless sleep. The nights that you wished your best friend Zach was holding your hand while he slept on the floor, the nights that you texted Hannah ‘til four. And under those bags were something deeper, because yes, you missed Hannah but you had been wrecked before she had found you. Before her death you were the same. It seemed the people kept leaving you; there was something about that that was ironic to you. The day Hannah died you had gone to the movies without her, the day you lost Zach you had told him you did not care. It seemed that you were pushing people away.

When you were done in the bathroom Bryce was gone and you sighed with relief, going back to the clerk and handing him your money. As he counted your change you looked out the glass door to see Clay Jensen riding after Tony Padilla’s car on his bike. There was another friend who had distanced himself.

It was almost serene when you exited the store, your expression placid and your bag full of shit you were going to do the first time alone and your wallet lighter. Almost. In this part of town it was quiet or way too fucking loud, and this time it was quiet... but then it wasn’t quite. There was yelling, whooping, and booing. The three things teenage boys did on a daily for every single reason they could conjure up. This teenage yelling though -- it was familiar. It was the yelling you heard at any of Liberty High’s sports games, the yelling heard in the halls, the yelling that made you so angry you could cry. The yelling of the people who had torn you apart from the thing you needed the most.

“Standall, I cant believe it! Jensen demolished you! What the fuck!” That was Justin Foley.

“Fuck you, Justin. I’m not in the mood.” Alex Standall, someone who had broken Hannah’s heart.

“Give me the bottle, Alex. I’ll finish it for you.” That was the voice. The voice of a person who once loved you and you still loved. The person who was the missing piece of your life as of late. Zach Dempsey.

During your freshman year when the blow of the separation was still a raw, open wound you had cornered Zach why he was acting the way he had been -- ignoring you, playing mean games with other people. He had just rolled his eyes, “People change, Y/N. Maybe you should too.”. Maybe that blow had hurt worse than the time that he had stolen your smelly markers in the sixth grade and then denied the whole thing. Maybe that’s what made you a mess.

But he could have told you that a million times on repeat, and you still would not believe him. People can change, but they could also just simply hide who they are. Underneath that cracked asphalt of a facade is the truth bleeding out like a nice, golden sunlight. This was not the Zach Dempsey that glowed like a rich, gold coin. This was the Zach that did what his friends did because he was scared that if he did anything else something would happen. His would be replaced, he would be made fun of, or his worst fear: he would lose all of his friends and just be ignored. Old Zach would never drink in broad daylight where any cop could catch him -- underage and intoxicated.

So you rounded the corner with you plastic bag swinging and faced the group you knew was there. They were all leaning against someone’s car coolly drinking from two bottles and laughing their woes away. Zach was sitting on the hood, his black hair sticking in all directions and his eyes squinted as he chugged the rest of the malt liquor.

“Zach.” You said loudly, standing in the middle of the alley opening. All eyes turned to you as Zach nearly choked on the liquid, his eyes going wide as he swallowed the drink carefully before looking at you. He winced before throwing the bottle to Justin. He caught it and downed the rest.

“Oh, uh, Y/N...hi.”

“Get in my car, Dempsey.” You sighed, pointing to your car across the street.

The other guys whooped and hollered, yelling out things you ignored as you stood there, swinging your bag around.

“Y/N, I don’t think-” Zach started, taking a step forward, before Bryce stopped him.

“Go, Zach. We’ll meet you at my house.” Bryce stared you down as your eyes flickered towards him -- a dark, unreadable expression on his face.

You turned without another word and walked to your car, knowing that Zach was following obediently. You threw your things in the back seat before sitting in the drivers side, waiting patiently while Zach took his time.

It had been so long since you had spoken to Zach, so many years, but you knew what was right to say. When he was buckled up you stuck the keys in and turned the car on. “Alright listen, Zach. I know you. Say what you want, deny it, but I know you and your family. I know that the Zach that I used to hang out with -- the Zach I still see in the hallways sometimes would never do something like this. How would your sister react if you all got caught? Your mother? It’s still light out, Zach. You’re not like this... and I care about you too much to see you do this. Especially with people like Bryce.”

You sighed after your mini rant and started to drive, not giving him much of a choice in the matter. You weren’t driving to your house or to his -- you were driving to Monet’s to get his system clean. He was sitting in silence, thinking your words over.

“Y/N...” He said, unsure of what to say.

“And I know we drifted apart, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t miss or care about you, Zach. The loss of Hannah just made it even harder to cope without you by my side. Clay Jensen has been too out of it lately. I just need someone, and if you need someone I’ll put you before me. Because I care about you more than I care about myself.”

You stopped at a stop light and looked to see that Zach was wiping at his eyes, before sniffling strongly and shaking his head. “Y/N, there is a reason that I was doing what I was doing. I miss you too. I only do these things to fill the hole in my heart that you vacated quite a while ago. I miss you so much, you were my best friend.”

You turned to Zach and placed your hand over his on his thigh before squeezing it reassuringly. He gave you a teary smile as you pulled into Monet’s.

“Can we go back to where we were? I just really need someone. Preferably you.” You asked him softly, looking away slightly.

There was rustling before he put his arms around you. “I was really hoping you would suggest it.”

~~ this made me emotional

(not edited)

pls gimme the thing called love

#zach dempsey #zach dempsey imagines #13rw #13rw imagines #13 reasons why #13 reasons why imagines #hannah baker #clay jensen #justin foley #bryce walker #jessica from 13rw #lmao what is her last name

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placetobenation · 6 years

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Place to Be Nation’s staff breaks down all the action from Hell in a Cell 2018.

New Day (c) vs. Rusev Day – Smackdown Tag Team Title Match

Matt Souza: For the second straight month, Rusev is wrestling on the pre-show. Shameful!!! And on Rusev Day no less!!! When will these injustices end?!?! In all seriousness, when looking over the card, this match was the only choice for the pre-show as the rest of the card was pretty loaded. I was pleased to see New Day win the tag belts from the Bludgeon Brothers in a great No DQ match on SmackDown a few weeks ago. I was also pleasantly surprised that Rusev Day won the number one contender tournament as I thought that The Bar was going to take it. We did get some entertaining pre-match shenanigans from both teams. I am also excited about pumpkin spice season, Kofi! One of these days, Big E is going to really hurt himself or his opponent with that apron spear to the outside. It’s terrifying every time he does it. A highlight was a great looking mid-air kick by Rusev to Kofi when he was going for a dive to the outside. Kofi scores the victory for his team after hitting Aiden English with the Trouble in Paradise and I was kind of surprised that they didn’t do the Rusev Day breakup here. It’s been teased for a while. Maybe they do it at Survivor Series? Match started a little slow but really picked up steam by the end. I’d love to see what these teams can do with a little more time. A fine way to kick off the night’s festivities. **3/4

Jeff Hardy vs. Randy Orton – Hell in a Cell

Greg Phillips: One of the better-built rivalries on WWE’s current premiere brand (in terms of quality), Jeff Hardy and Randy Orton promised to deliver violence and carnage in one of only two Hell in a Cell matches at … Hell in a Cell. Did they deliver? As it turns out, in spades. In an ideal wrestling card, every match fills a role. In this case, perhaps surprisingly, it was two veterans often accused of coasting on reputation who delivered the most violent match of the evening and one of the most violent weapons matches in WWE in recent years. It was a match that mixed Orton’s methodical pacing and technical execution with Hardy’s innovation and borderline-reckless disregard for his own safety.

While Jeff had moments, most of the highlights came from Orton’s offensive flurries, including one of the sickest spots ever in a WWE match, as Orton twisted a screwdriver into Hardy’s ear, a spot that has to be seen to be believed. Hardy bumped around like a guy in his 20s, including taking a gourdbuster onto an upside-down ladder. The finish was spectacular, as Hardy (appropriately) flamed out on an attempted monkey bar-style fall from the top of the cell and crashed through a table. Orton didn’t escape unharmed, though, as his back and thigh were badly cut during the match. Both guys delivered beyond expectations with a truly violent match in an era with relatively few of those. ***1/2

Charlotte (c) vs. Becky Lynch – Smackdown Women’s Title Match

Stacey O’Loughlin: FIFTY HUNDRED GAZMILLION STARS~! OK no really. I was worried about both watching and reviewing this match because the only result I wanted was Becky winning clean, and I was mentally prepared to expect literally any other result than Becky winning clean. So you can imagine my astonished, euphoric delight when Rebecca Lynch did, in fact, win the Smackdown Women’s Championship of the World clean as a freshly laundered sheet. Get in!

I thought the match itself was really good and ticked a lot of boxes – it was wrestled fairly technically but still felt super snug and spiteful, it was a strong match and yet still left a LOT on the table for rematches, and it had a clean finish which didn’t cheapen Becky or Charlotte and still set up those rematches logically. Becky attacked the arm relentlessly, and Charlotte did well put in the rare position of working out of a disadvantage. I loved the strike exchanges, and cool moments like Charlotte’s one armed powerbomb or Becky’s Scorpion Death Drop with a hammerlock. And also, SHE WON! WAR BECKY! Rating: ***1/2

The Shield vs. Dolph Ziggler & Drew McIntyre (c) – Raw Tag Team Title Match

JA D’Amato: A hot “Burn it down!” chant from the San Antonio faithful busted out as Seth Rollins and Dolph Ziggler locked up to start. Corey and Renee recap the history of their feud and the Shield beat downs at the hands of Braun Strowman and company for those who don’t tune into Raw. Ziggler with a Jesse Ventura special, raking Ambrose’s eyes across the top rope prompting Corey to quip “If you can’t see you can’t fight!” Dolph and Drew dominated with old school double team maneuvers took turns distracting the referee. Dolph taunted Seth relentlessly telling him to “Do something! Do something!” Ambrose then broke up a pin attempt and Drew screamed at the ref to “Disqualify his arse!” Ambrose finally got the hot tag and showed that his offense has improved upon his return from injury with less cartoon moves and more seriousness. A furious trade of pinfall attempts sent the crowd into a frenzy as Rollins’ splash on Drew got a close two count. Rollins caught Dolph with a superplex off the top rope and went for a suplex when Drew buried him with a Claymore Kick and Dolph flopped on top of him for the pin. Both teams kept up a frenetic pace for a tag team thriller. ***1/2

AJ Styles (c) vs. Samoa Joe – Smackdown World Title Match

Scott Criscuolo: The sequel to the emotional war at SummerSlam was very different. I’ve noticed that AJ Styles usually doesn’t have that superstar ***** star match with everybody the first time around. For instance his WrestleMania match with Nakamura was not the best of that LONG series. The match with Joe in Brooklyn was great, but you got the feeling it can be topped. This one was better. We didn’t have the dog and pony show of AJ’s family in the crowd and the storyline leaning over it all. This match was going to be straight up back and forth. And it was. Joe went out and threw everything including the kitchen sink at AJ from strikes to kicks to pitching AJ all over, in and out of the ring. We get some awesome close calls, and then… the tried and true ending to the middle match of a trilogy. It’s not a “dusty finish” by any stretch, but it’s an unclean finish. Joe finally gets AJ cranked in the Coquina Clutch, and AJ is fighting. Then, he does the “Bret Hart” trick. That’s backing up, and flipping over your opponent on a neck/head submission move. So AJ flips over, and Joe’s shoulders are pinned to the mat. AJ retains his Title, but Joe is visibly pissed off that he wasn’t finished off first. “First”? After a few minutes we see the reverse of the ring shot, and there’s AJ, TAPPING on Joe’s torso during the pinfall. So Joe felt the tapping, and felt he won before the three count happened. Later in the show, Joe tries to strong arm Paige, and she relents a little, giving Joe another WWE Title shot. It will be October 7 in Melbourne. We will see where this feud goes from here. This match was tremendous back and forth, with a controversial ending that will lead us to more. ****

Daniel Bryan & Brie Bella vs. The Miz & Maryse

Jennifer Smith: In a show filled with heavy, intense matches, this one was decidedly lighter. Since Miz’s win against Bryan at SummerSlam, (with some help from his lady, natch) the “It” couple have been a thorn in the side of Daniel and Brie. A mixed tag match should solve that problem, right? Things start off slowly, with Maryse dodging Brie and immediately tagging Miz, who in turn avoids Bryan. More tagging shenanigans lead to the crowd chanting “Coward!’ while Maryse taunts Brie repeatedly. The boys have a nice sequence including a kick to Miz’s face, a back and neck breaker combo on Bryan, and a few near falls by both guys. Finally, Daniel tags Brie in and of course Maryse cowers while Miz comes to her defense. Brie is having none of it and attacks Miz with punches, then manages to kick Maryse to the floor and follows that up with slamming her head into the announce table. Both couples are brawling now. Back in the center of the ring, Daniel and Brie deliver slightly poorly timed simultaneous “YES” kicks. M&M roll away and try to escape up the ramp but are dragged back. Brie mode is activated, she and Maryse tie up, but all of a sudden Maryse gets the pin! Brie looks shocked and so does everyone else. M&M celebrate by making out and presumably a hot fuck backstage.

Look, I know this wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea but I enjoyed it. Both couples looked really in tune with each other. The storytelling is good and I think Miz and Maryse are fun heels who seem to actually enjoy being arrogant pricks. The ending was surprising, especially with Maryse getting the pin. But I like surprises and it worked for me. **1/2

Ronda Rousey (c) vs. Alexa Bliss – Raw Women’s Title Match

JT Rozzero: In our big SummerSlam rematch, the two key ladies on top of the Raw mountain were sure to bring plenty of backup for this war. Alexa Bliss was flanked by Alicia Fox and Mickie James while Ronda Rousey was accompanied by her confidant Natalya. The crowd was pretty into this early, showering Bliss with hate and Rousey with a loud cheer blended with a smattering of boos as well. Ronda controlled early, trying to keep things on the mat until decking Bliss with a hard right hand after Alexa disrespected her with a slap. Bliss caught Ronda with a kick and went at the ribs but that was short-lived and Ronda was back on top quickly. Bliss’ entourage tried to help but it kept backfiring until Bliss finally sorted out a way to get some offense in, including a stiff kick to the gut. That shot paid off as Ronda’s ribs prevented her from tossing Bliss a moment later, allowing the challenger to get back to work on the midsection. Ronda got caught on top and ended up in a brief Tree of Woe, which gave Bliss another window to batter the ribs. Alicia and Mickie got involved again but this time Natalya came over to help to even things out. Rousey and Bliss would collide on cross body attempts but Bliss recovered first and kept slugging away at the core. Rousey fired herself up and got a big powerbomb to kick off her comeback and that led us into our home stretch, capped by Ronda eventually finishing Alexa by submission. This was a fine match that showcased Ronda’s selling. The midsection focus was well done and they got into the heat segment sharply and believably. The crowd wasn’t too engaged here but it was solid work across the board and another impressive Rousey performance as she continues a dominant rookie year. Who’s next? **3/4

Roman Reigns vs. Braun Strowman – Raw World Title Hell in a Cell Match

Jacob Williams: For the main event, we had Braun Strowman choosing to schedule his MITB cash in and it was clear that there might be some shenanigans here. They couldn’t have Roman lose right after he finally conquered Brock, and if they have Braun go down clean, they really run the risk of putting out his fire. Although, many would argue that his heat has already started to dissipate. Foley was thrown in as guest referee because he knows a few things about the cell.

The match was made up of three distinct segments that really didn’t gel. It started pretty solid, as you would expect from these two: Braun beat the hell out of Roman, who sold well while getting in a few big bits of offense to keep himself alive. And then everything just went off the rails. Each guy’s crew came out to battle outside, and then eventually, atop the cell. But while Ziggler and Rollins crashed through the announce tables, the guys in the actual match were just sort of laying around for ten minutes. After the Shield and Ziglintyre wiped themselves out, Brock Lesnar shockingly came out and hit a few F5s. And that was it.

It was cool to see Brock come out looking great, proving that he still cared about the title and wasn’t just going to quietly fade away, but suddenly ending the match right after was weird and unsatisfying. Through the entire show we get references to Foley’s wild performance where he nearly died and still finished his infamous cell match – then we get two guys unable to continue after a few F5s following ten minutes of laying around. And one of them is supposed to be an inhuman monster that flips ambulances. It’s as if they wanted to throw out as much as possible to distract from the fact that not much really happened between the guys actually in the match. It made for an underwhelming, disjointed finish to an otherwise good show. **

#IFTTT #Place to Be Nation

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