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argentangelhelps · 1 year

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MAISIE PETERS STARTERS

starter prompts from maisie peters’ discography

“i still haven’t got my driver’s license” “and i am sorry to make it about myself again but you signed up for this“ “you signed up for this” “please don’t give up on me yet” “i know i’ll get better, i’m just not better yet.” “i only drink to get drunk.” “nothing like i thought would happen happened” “it didn't work like i thought it would” "i resent you just a little if i'm honest” “you swore you would do better this time” “if i'm being frank, i want a "sorry" but i'll settle for a handshake” “not friends, no, we're somewhere in between” “'cause you're awful and i miss you and i killed you in my dream last night, even then you didn't care” “i should be the one you’re dancing with” “i was gonna act surprised even though i knew you wanted me” “maybe if i'd reined it in you wouldn't wanna kiss somebody else” “you don't owe me anything” “i'm just gonna walk home by myself” “you look right through me every time you walk by” “‘cause if you don’t want me then you’re not the one” “guess i misunderstood, i thought you liked me too” “she could tell i was so obsessed with you” “hope i don’t wake my dad up” “well, tell me where i went wrong” “and you only kissed me once, nothing changed at all” “i could see a bloodbath coming” “everyone else can have him but i won’t” “loving you’s not fair” “you kept me as your favorite secret” “it’s funny how everybody but me knows” “you’re losing your mind” “you wanna talk? not ideal.” “i feel like you feel nothing, that’s fine.” “baby, who has two phones?” “you don't want me at all, but you don't want me to fall for anyone” “i heard you had a lot of therapy when you were seventeen for your anger issues” “if i had a pound/dollar for every hole punched in a wall i’d be a rich girl/boy” “it got progressively harder to miss you” “you're a serial cheater” “when i told you you were funny i lied” “i can tell that you've never been hugged” “if i was the last girl on earth, you'd still be weighing up your options” “you're obsessed with your father” “red flag and a half” “you're kinda sociopathic” “i wasn't broken till you tried to fix me” “i was yours until you let me down” “you said this is something that we both need” “you left me hollow” “are you happy now?” “we never struggled for a conversation till you couldn't find the words to say” “now you’re somebody else with somebody you swore was not your type” “i just miss my friend” “how do you think i’m dealing?” “i'll burn this house, i mean it” “well, what does that make me then?” “i'm your villain” “whole town's gonna hear how you messed me up” “oh, i'm out my mind and i said some shit, but i miss you more than i meant any of it” “he’s fit, go for it.” “if you want to take her out, you're gonna have to ask me first” “she's in brooklyn with me” “you gave it all and i gave it up” “you were always on my mind” “i've got no right to miss you” “easiеr to tell myself we'd mess it up instead, so i left” “but i still wish things were different, don't you?” “'cause i get not evеryone sees you the way that i'd like” “you pulled a lot of shit” “thought i'd be a cool girl, but turns out i'm livid” “all or nothing, you chose nothing” “you are one tough act to follow” “you forgot how to miss me” “i hope i’m one tough act to follow” “now everything is through, it's you i wanna call though” “it was all out my hands when you pulled the trigger” “i kissed your friends 'cause your friends said you kissed her” “you were my no sleep, cried for weeks, favourite ex” “i was good to you” “did i just not do it for you, superficially?” “i can’t help thinking she’s got a better body” “has she got a better body than mine?” “were you sorry like you weren't at the time?” “the worst way to love somebody is to watch them love somebody else and it work out” “when you're twisting up all her sheets, do you suffer?” “was i just an idea you liked?” “was i just an idea you liked? a convenient use of time with obedient blue eyes” “i thought it would be us for life” “will you tell me just one more lie?” “didn't say it in those words, but i know how your tone works” “i'm hurting but i'm certain it's still true” “i'm the best thing that almost happened to you” “one day, you're gonna wake up and, oh shit, you lost the brеakup” “i'm thе greatest love that you wasted” "oh shit, i won the breakup" “just assumed i was your favourite” “what do you do when the good guys change their mind?” “'cause i used to think that if i tried my best, i'd always win” “now you're asking for a pardon 'cause i'm a good time pound for pound” “i was good, just wasn't good enough” “i never said i was perfect just thought i was perfect for you” “did you meet my brother?" “will we ever get together?” "how can i know you're for sure? it's only been a summer" “nothing more frightenin’ than a woman scorned” “baby, if you thought that i was trouble, then you're gonna hate what's comin' next” “i don't think you knew just what you'd done” “i'll fuck your life up as a blonde” “i'm gonna make your friends say, "man, you messed that up”” “you'll rue the day you did me wrong” "oh, goddamn, not another rockstar" “they got a lot of unexamined father-son baggage” “aren't i lucky 'cause he could have chosen any girl to fuck with?”

#rp memes #rp prompts #starter prompts #roleplay memes #rp meme #ask meme #ask memes #*[ rp memes ]

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switch · 3 months

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Is it just me or does Moriarty look a lot less... Old on the manga. He looks more like an older version of his ruler alt, than the actual archer Moriarty.

you're not wrong, but it's not just a manga thing, moriarty has in general followed a trend in official art of being depicted as younger and smoother looking since launch even well before ruler was nothing but a mere cartoon-dollar-sign in the marketing department's eyes, but it also heavily depends on who's drawing him and when they're drawing him. except when the hotel chaldea artist made him look even older that one time.

like, you can see it in gray collar

i mean, RAITA's colored his lines lighter here, but the main thing is moriarty's mouth lines and forehead lines are overall prone to getting toned down. you won't really ever see both of them depicted as dramatically as his launch art at the same time again.

but also if you flip through some of RAITA's artbook scans, the forehead lines will be there one page and then not there the next, so while overall there is a trend it's also kinda just one of those... art consistency things. his 'most recent' traveling portrait and then anniversary promo art pieces by RAITA did have him on the very young-looking side, admittedly.

the manga moriarties i posted today all kinda coincidentally have basically no wrinkles, but he does have them a fair amount. like i said, i'm guessing there's maybe three different individuals drawing him, so that's putting how young-or-old he looks even more all over the place.

it's just one of those things.

#switch speaks #fate #moriarty #long post//

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maguro13-2 · 9 months

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Legacy of Shinra ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Chapter 1 Pt. 6

[Tokyo - Autumn 2004]

Kimial Dieh; : Okay...Only 4 years to TV debut. Looks like that I'm on a tight busy schedule I can't wait to see Ashley when I'm on TV. (starts whistling)

[WIND GUSTING]

Kimial Diehl : [shivers] Brrr! Man, it's kinda cold out here in Japan, good thing I'm wearing my dollar sign mittens for this season. Because I'm rich Bi--

[WHOOSH!]

Kimial Diehl : Huh? What was that? Probably just a wild animal or something. And I think it's just a stray cat or whatever it is. I'm sure it's just fine here.

[Demon laughing is heard as Kimial doesn't know where it's coming from]

Kimial Diehl : Huh? Okay...That does not sound like a wild animal or a stray cat. H-Hello? Is anyone there? Seriously, whoever you are is stalking at a detective! So guess what? I'm not scared at you or anyone, i face my own fears with bravery!

[Demon laughs hysterically]

Kimial : Laugh all you want to, because the police in Tokyo are right behind me and I'm with the force so you'd be better step off and run away! [pulls out a witch's wand] Here in my hand is a Witch's wand and I'm gonna bash your f**king head with it! Come on out and show your face so that I may can cast a spell on you!

??? : I see you...! I spy with my own eyes...

Kimial : W...What?....Who is this? Who is this?! I'm giving you a warning and as of your safety, better stop playing around! Show yourself and remain silent so that I may come over there and kick your ass!

[BOOM!]

Kimial : Huh? What the...?

[Slave Beast Taka - Akira Yamaoka]

Kimial : Woah! What the hell is this thing?!

??? : So, you're the one of the bratty detectives that I've heard about you. I heard that You are quite the being of a mystery solver is no concern of mine!

Kimial : What? A demon that talks? What a surprise. Not knowing of how much for you to be all talk and no action? typical. Hey, what's that in it's hand...? (Shows the demon's hand wielding the black Kanabo) Is that a Kanabo? The weapon that the oni wields? Now I get it, something tells me that the demon is wearing gloves on his hand? Who are you, Maka? Mickey? Felix?

Bendy : My name is Bendy the Inky Demon. I am the demon of inky darkness that holds the raw power of inky blackness! The black blood is ink and the red blood is human and demon!

Kimial : So...If you're clearly to understand that you're a demon made of inky darkness, why would the Black Blood be ink while mine is red?

Bendy : Because the blood is the color on your hands that are red. This body of mine holds the the blackness in the power that is ink, I would savor a dish that makes you demon food!

Kimial : Well, I'm not much of a snack for demons, but I got yourself a snack here right here. Have a taste of my magic, demon! [Casts a fire ball to attack the demon, but the demon is nowhere to be seen] Huh? Where'd you go?

Bendy : Up here!

Kimial : [looks up] What the?

Bendy : Take this!

[DBZ SFX : EXPLOSION]

Kimial : WOAAAAAH!

[DBZ SFX: WALL CRASH]

Kimial : [groans] That's smarts! Wow! He's fast and really strong! Can't say that this demon weigh tons of power of wielding that Kanabo. Hey, what are you planning on giving ink to anyway?

Bendy : See for yourself, my next target would be the girl that is the hero of that Soul World Manga, but I prefer the term "Comic Book" in that case of matter. Since you're lucky that you are gullible enough to find the whereabouts of Maka's mother. But unfortunately, I don't have time for heroic grunts like you. So there's no time for fun in games, Farewell! [turns into the form of a rocket]

Kimial : Hey! No fair! Come back here! [runs towards at Bendy before he flies away] Darn! It got away! Who was that demon anyway and why does he think Maka is the target? That sounds surely mysterious when it comes to witches and demons at each other. But I'm sure that I'm going undercover to expose myself as a Meister. But if I wanted to investigate further more, then I'll suggest I'll make myself a debut as a supporting "Hero". Nothing says anything to a girl like me, and that's what this "Other" Shinigami would like to know about the Kusakabe Legacy. But I almost have one thing that I never forget. [clenches fist and places on her heart] first that I was friends with Ashley, I had no interests in boys, I only have set my heart that belongs to another, someone that I truly like since we met back in New England. The one that I gave my heart connected by one person that I made a promise to her, [a vision of Jacqueline appears] Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre.

~ Fifth Scene : Prey of the Mighty Demon ~

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starcrossedyanderes · 2 years

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Christmas with Xavier

Note from Star: Wow, it’s been a while. I’ll explain where I’ve been in an upcoming Emmett post but I wanted Xavier and figured Christmas could come a little early.

“Hey, (Y/n), wanna sign up for the secret Santa?”

You smiled up at one of your best friends with a nod.

“Yeah, I kinda forgot we do that every year. So same rules as always? 10 dollar limit, write name, favorite color, favorite candy, and something you would like that’s under 10 dollars?”

As she nodded her jingle bell earrings rung.

“Righto!”

But it would seem to your disappointment that the blonde next to you had his attention caught by your yuletide-weilding bestie.

“Secret Santa?”

You turned over to face him, somewhat scared, but was quickly releived to see a confused look on his face. Your friend nervously chuckled, she knew that his wrath wasn’t pleasant, before somewhat trying to explain it.

“Yeah, you know the Christmas game, with Santa?”

Xavier rolled his beautiful emerald eyes.

“I know what Santa is, he is the equivalent to our Ded Moroz. But I’ve never heard anything about him being associated with a game, or secrets.”

“Dead Mouse who?”

Xavier seemed to be in a eye rolling mood today. You were getting even more nervous as he had very low tolerance for pretty much anyone.

“He’s father frost.”

This time you spoke up. (You seemed to be a great way to break tension with Xavier.)

“Oh, so he’s kinda like Jack Frost.”

Xavier gave you a weird look but talked to you in a less condesing, and more respectful, tone.

“Dahling, I have no idea vho that iz.”

You rubbed the back of your neck and chuckled.

“Well, how about I tell you about him later. So Santa himself doesn’t involve a game, or secrets. Secret Santa is a game you play around Christmas with friends where everyone puts their name in a hat. The name you pull you have to give a gift to. So everyone gets a gift for someone anonymous, and it’s a bit of a guessing game about who gave you what. Does that make sense?”

Xavier hummed as he pushed some hair out of the way.

“I suppose. I don’t think I need to tell you-”

It was then you put on your sweetest voice and smile, effectively shutting your darling prince up.

“Xavier, can I talk to you for a moment.”

The prince seemed a bit too eager to talk to you for a moment as he quickled walked with you to a corner.

“Yes, my princess~”

You sighed.

“Xavier, if you’re having me date you, the least you can do is at least participate in Christmas activities with me. This includes secret santa stuff. Just please, at least try to make an effort? For me?”

Under those golden lockes green glinted.

“Alright dahling, under one condition.”

You sighed, you always hated these conditions.

“Yes? What is it?”

“You have to participate in my festivities as well. Oh, and shopping. I’m afraid your vardrobe isn’t quite suited well enough for vinter.”

You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend. He’s holding festivities of his own? And it is only fair your participate in his celebrations as well..

“Alright. Thank you, your majesty.”

Xavier took your hand as you strolled back to your table.

“And here I vas, thinking you’ve had enough of these people.”

Xavier’s green eyes twitched as he spoke to your friend.

“Yes, I vould like to sign up for ze secret santa.”

Your friend shook her head in shock.

“Really? I mean, that’s great! I’ll sign you up! Just answer these questions!”

Xavier barely glanced over the paper before handing it over to one of his guards.

“Fill this out for me, I have lliterally no concept of how much the dollar is vorth.”

You merely scoffed at your odd, European boyfriend.

“An Anastasia Beverly Hills pallete is not 10 dollars, your highness.”

“But dahling! She requested makeup!”

“Yeah, from like CVS or something!”

“Vhat is a CVS!?”

“Certainly not Anastasia!”

Xavier sighed as he placed his head against your shoulder.

“I’m zorry, my princess. I thought you vould vant me to spend more.”

You had somewhat calmed upon feeling his soft hair against your skin.

“Spending more on events with a cash limit puts pressure on a lot of others and make them feel bad. Also why are you so concerned about what I want, for once?”

Xavier got up slightly with a concerned expression.

“I do care about vhat you vant. That’s vhy I hold on to every vord you grace me vith so dearly. The sheer thought of spoiling you..”

Xavier slightly shivered before clinging onto you before placing kisses over your face.

“Vesides.. I vant to be on your good side before I leave on the 28th.”

You perked up and spoke a little too excitedly.

“You’re leaving.”

Xavier’s eyes glared into your form. His speech became even more unintelligible as he spoke through his teeth.

“Yes, I’m returning to Colvalkia on the 28th. Believe it or not I do vish to spend time vith my family for the holidays.”

You gave him a questioning look.

“Isn’t it kinda late? Christmas is the 25th, you know.”

Xavier drug a hand down his face as he let out a sigh.

He turned his face and tone into the sweetest he can manage.

“My dahling, dahling princess. I’m from Russia. Ve don’t really do Christmas. Ve celebrate New Year’s.”

You gasped and grabbed onto his shoulders.

“You don’t have Christmas!?”

Xavier sighed as he picked your hands off his shoulders and brought them to his mouth in order to place a kiss on them.

“Dahling, Ve do have Christmas. It’s on the 7th for us, and it’s much more of a religious thing. I do celebrate it but I assure, you the festivities aren’t much to talk about.”

“Oh. I guess that kinda makes since based off of history.”

Xavier leaned into the hands he just kissed as he made them caress his face.

“Mmhm, now to make it up to you I decided on a little compromise on Christmas festivities. Considering our celebrations are so different I found something ve’re both comfortable with.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Oh?”

“I got us tickets for The Nutcracker. That ballet is a Christmas ballet, ya? You’re familiar vith that, and I’n familiar with ballet. Does this count as participating in your Christmas activities?”

You gave him a shocked look.

“Xavier, that’s oddly thoughtful of you. Yes, that definitely qualifies! Thank you!”

Xavier gave a quick peck on your lips.

“Of course, my dahling. Anything, and I mean, anything for you.”

“So, you vatch this movie every year on Christmas Eve?”

“Mhm, I love watching Elf. Hey, can we order Domino’s? Pwease?”

Xavier hummed in fake contemplation before ‘giving in’.

“Hmm, I suppose I’ll make an exception. For you.”

You stared up with your best puppy dog eyes.

“And the cheesy bread? With the dessert?”

Xavier leant over to pet his pet bird, Indigo.

“Cheesy bread, yes. Dessert however I insist Ve get from one of my chefs.”

You heaved a fake sigh as you pet Ebony.

“I suppose that is acceptable. But scooch, I gotta pee.”

Xavier willingly moved off of you as you walked towards the bathroom. Before he called after you as you opened the door.

“Oh, I left you some pajamas for you in there. I was told matching pajamas was a Christmas tradition.”

You sighed as you leaned into Xavier’s side.

“Thank you, Xavier. I honestly wasn’t thinking you would be so willingly to participate in festivities with me.”

Xavier softly smiled at you as he brushed his hands through your hair.

“Of course, my dahling. But remember our deal~ Now you have to participate in my festivities.”

You laughed.

“Of course, I would love to after all that effort you went through. It’s only fair. Besides, I want to see how you Colvakians celebrate New Year’s.”

“Don’t vorry, it’s very similar to Christmas celebrations. Tree and all.

But and do have one more little thing~ I felt bad about participating in Christmas vithout even a present so here you are.”

Xavier lifted up a beautifully wrapped box that you took from his hands.

“Oh, you didn’t need to do that! You get me so much anyway!”

Xavier shrugged his shoulders.

“Vhat, can I say, I’m a very generous person.”

“You keep telling yourself that, dear.”

Despite your comments you still gently pulled at the silk ribbon until the contents were revealed.

“Oh, Xavier! It’s such a nice one of those Russian hats!”

“It’s a papakha, dear.”

You picked up the fluffy hat and placed it on your head.

“It’s so nice and soft! And warm! But I don’t think I’ll be able to use it all too much since winters aren’t THAT bad here.”

Xavier smiled.

“I assure you, you vill need it for this vinter.”

It was with your confusion and looking out the window of the limousine that you noticed something.

“Hey, Xavier? This isn’t really the way to your penthouse?”

Xavier gave you a quizzical look.

“Vhy vould I go to my penthouse vhen I’m returning home?”

It was you who gave the quizzical look.

“You said you were leaving on the 28th? So why would you be heading home?”

Xavier shrugged.

“I merely vanted to go home early. This vay you can get more acclimated and meet my family before it gets all chaotic.”

You pushed in his chest.

“What do you mean acclimated?! I’m not coming with you!!”

Xavier gave you his frustrated look through his blonde lockes.

“Dahling, Ve agreed on this. I celebrate your festivities, you celebrate mine.”

“What does that have to do with anything!?”

“I’ll be in Colvakia for my festivities, so, you’ll have to come vith.”

You started tearing up.

“You can’t just .. just.. kidnap me!?”

Xavier raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t be ridiculous, this is a Christmas gift dahling. An all expense paid trip to Colvakia lasting forever! If it really bothers you this much your family can come along as vell. As long as they don’t interrupt us too much.”

“You’re being crazy!”

Xavier sighed.

“Dahling, please calm down. I don’t really want one of my men to have to carry you onto the plane. Besides, it isn’t that bad! See, we have matching papakhas!”

“I don’t want your stupid papas pizzeria! Here I thought this relationship was starting to become less forced but here we are!”

Xavier tutted.

“Forced is such a.. harsh vord. You coming home vith me can be my Christmas present. Now I do hope those chocolates start working soon. You get so.. annoying when upset and without sleep.”

Of course as soon as he said that you felt a wave of wooziness.

“You drugged me.”

“Vhoops, vhat can I say, perhaps the word tyrannical does fit me. Besides, I want you to get your sleep. The flight from D.C. to Moscow is rough.

#yandere #starcrossedyanderes #romance #original character #yandere romance #yandere male #xavier devorsky #xavier #yandere oc #christmas

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

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A Cure for Insomnia Ch.3

WARNING DECEPTIONS OF A PANIC ATTACK

I understand seeing others go through this can sometimes cause panic or anxiety attacks in some and with the use of some imagery I've used I'd feel better if I gave a fair warning that there is a detailed panic attack early on.

,,,,,,,,,,

Whoever said eight hours of sleep was the right amount for humans has never met an insomniac who just spent the last six days and five nights awake. You hoped that fucker is in hell burning for his sins, he probably has more of them that you don't know of. But with bleary eyes looking at your phone you can barely make out that it's just a little past six in the morning. This is backed up by the slimmers of light shinning through the blanket you put over the window last night. Briefly the thought of keeping it up today passes through your mind as you try to curl into an even tighter blanket cocoon.

Stretching out your legs and toes you let your muscles melt into mush in the warmth and comfort of your bed. Closing your eyes and burying your head back into the pillow, you might not be able to go to sleep but resting is nice too. You're so relaxed it almost feels as if all your limbs are floating and you feel the buzz of energy come surging back through you, you hum along with it nuzzling into the pillows.

'Your car was broken into.' the thought flashes through your mind and has you jolting up right.

Chest heaving slightly as frantic eyes dance along the room that hasn't changed since the night before. The buzzing energy from just a few moments before turns into an icy feeling flowing in your veins. It chills you to your core and you've noticed the tremors in your arms causing you to tremble. There's a sick feeling that bubbles up your throat, as you feel the phantoms of tens of hands grabbing at your arms and torso. They move erratically all over and their grips are suffocating, there's a lump in your throat that you have trouble swallowing down.

Bringing a hand up to your throat you jab your thumb right above or right at where your larynx would be. The slight pain from the pressure helps ease the lump away and you're able to get out a few frantic breaths. You hardly notice the wetness on your face from the few tears slipping free from your eyes.

'Gross, gross, gross, gross.' is the only message that rings clear in your mind as you're assaulted by these phantom hands.

You're aware this is a panic attack, but it does little to calm you down. Putting more pressure on your throat and using your feet to propel you back into the mattress. Vaguely you're aware that tiring your body out should calm you or maybe it's the release of an emotional fit that calms you, you aren't sure which and you don't really care at the moment. So flailing your legs you let your feet forcefully slip off of their purchase as you push your muscles to their full extent with force. It doesn't take long before you can't feel your limbs and are gasping for breath.

The phantoms are gone, no longer touching you as they please, and while the lump still sits at the bottom of your throat making it hurt to swallow and breathe around you can begin to feel calm. Actually it's the numbness that takes over you, not a sense of calm. The sense of an empty shell broken from its exertion. One thing's for sure you can't take your car today. If you had a panic attack just by thinking of your car you don't want to risk actually getting behind the wheel.

Everything feels tense, the muscles in your legs are starting to ache and you're pretty sure you'll have a bruise at the base of your throat. You check your phone with shaky hands to see it's now seven twelve. If you get up now and leave you think you can probably make it into town by eight forty giving you time to grab something from the Dunkin' on the corner across from the shop. Or you could call out, Nate would totally understand. But just the thought of being alone today sends a chill down your spine and the feeling of those phantom hands start creeping their way back into your personal space.

“I'm going to work!” jumping up and out of the bed, away from the grubby grabby specters.

Running around the room you throw on a pair of black shorts, unusual for you to wear at work but if you're walking you'll have to deal, sweaty jeans are uncomfortable and joggers aren't very cohesive to a work environment. Deciding on a binder made from a breathable swimsuit material for the same reason, sweaty bra is too uncomfortable and bra-less isn't really something you're comfortable with. Grabbing the first shirt you find, it's a black tee with the words “The only man for me is Mothman” printed on it surrounded by little white stars and a chibi lil mothamn.

Looking at your outfit altogether cheers you up. It's casual but cute, not to mention these shorts do a lot for your thighs and butt. But, there's no time to dwell on how handsome you are, you need to grab food and get out the door like ten minutes ago! Grabbing a mask printed with the word 'No' dead center and your headphones you leave your room. With the thought of grabbing Dunkin' before work you settle on a Pedialyte Pop to hold you over during your walk, nausea shouldn't hit you right away anyway. Checking your door was locked, thrice, you started your trek to town.

Most people would complain about having to walk or hike while wearing a mask, often times saying it was hard to breathe under the fabric. But you'd say they just didn't have the right size mask for their face shape. You'd run into a few masks that hadn't been the right shape or size throughout the years but you're thankful that your first three had been perfect. Had they been too big or small you probably wouldn't have fallen in love with wearing masks, they were so comfy and let you interact with people without your voice getting stuck in your throat.

You'd taken to wearing them after high school when you'd taken a job of watching an elderly hospice patient's corgi while her family worked on moving to Virginia and closer to her. Anytime you and little Russel went to visit her you'd had to wear a mask, so instead of wearing the disposables you'd bought a set of three reusable ones.

After noting the change in behavior she mentioned your Autism, she'd been a retired social worker and saw the signs when she met you and after spending nearly 40 hours a week together for half a year she was certain you somehow fell through the cracks. It was a shock to you when she threw out the off handed comment but after stating who your pediatrician was, she was sent into a fit of laughter.

“Anya is a dear and a great surgeon, but I think the cultural barrier has stopped her from diagnosing children for years.” she had said all the while wheezing through the oxygen mask, eyes crinkling in amusement.

She'd sat you down with a list of books to look into and written out all your symptoms, she said if you ever wanted to get tested having the list of symptoms would be more helpful than straight up asking for a diagnosis. Some doctors were too by the book back in the 40s so Autism has rarely been studied in depth. Only in the last decade or so has a movement gained momentum to spread not only a wider awareness of the disorder but also acceptance for it. But to a doctor it would seem like you were grasping for attention at least to anyone who spent less time with you than she had. But without at least six thousand dollars to spend on a piece of paper that confirms what you already know you'll just have to stick to coping by using methods you read about from forums and blogs made by people with Autism rather than their parents or someone who's “very close” to them. And like Mary Anne said before she died, “just because you don't have a diagnosis doesn't mean your symptoms aren't there.”. A statment that reassures you from time to time, when you think you must be faking it for attention. And that somehow you managed to fake tics your whole life.

Snapping out of your memories because you could hardly tell your mask was on, and has been for the past forty minutes or so since you'd finished your pop. It wasn't too hot at the moment and like the previous day Kepler's climate has no humidity whatsoever, a huge change from the coast. Checking the time again on your phone you see the clear white numbers stating boldly that it is eight o' nine. You don't feel any closer to town but figure that's normal when all you've seen is the old over grown road. You feel you should have seen the road leading to town by now, you hope you see it soon or else you'd really over estimated how long it would take to get to town, then you'd be hella late and sweaty. With the way you still had signal to the spotify you doubt you've even made it far enough to reach the dead zone.

Sighing you look down as you walk hoping to maybe find a rock to kick, walking's really boring when there's nothing to explore and you're on a time crunch. A loud honk takes you out of your head and you startle looking up. Doesn't take more than a second before you see a car stopped in the middle of the road in front of you. It's well taken care of for sure but not necessarily new or anything, you don't know too much about cars other than it looks like a black Camry no wait that's the Hyundai symbol. Some type of sedan then.

The back window on your side of the car rolls down and a man leans out and calls to you, you don't hear him at first. Slipping your headphones down to hang around your neck he repeats himself, “Do ya need a ride?” He has a southern accent on the thicker side, not abnormal for West Virginia but you can tell it's not the same dialect, probably from further down. The man has blonde hair styled in that fluffy swooped faux hawk that a lot of gamers had back in 2017/2018. He's got slight thin stubble along his jaw, not quiet five o'clock shadow so he probably has trouble growing facial hair. His eyes are that hazel color everyone wishes they could have, the kinda that had the orangish yellow glow about them. He looks like a fuck boy.

You're nearly ready to point at your mask in an indication of 'no I don't know you creep' when you catch sight of the driver. A boy around your age maybe who looks apathetic, that's not what catches your eye everyone looses the will to live at some point. What draws your attention is the mask he's wearing on his face. He could potentially be like you, or maybe he's just sick and being considerate, or he could have allergies. Whatever the case may be you can't honestly be considering getting into a car with two random men just because one wears a face mask. Hell for all you know they've orchestrated this situation, they could've been watching you analyzing your every move to know that breaking into your car would send you into a state of panic where you wouldn't use your car the next day or two, then you'd be out in the open to kidnap on your walk to town where you couldn't call for help due to being in the dead zone. Why else would they be this far along the old dirt road?

“Ah...miss?” the southern drawl brings you out of your inner ramblings, and the words cause you to bristle.

“I'm not a woman.” you say calmly but firmly.

“Oh, ah sorry sir.” you can't help but huff a laugh at the quick apology, your eyes catch movement through the window. Oh they have a dog with them, a rottweiler at that. Cool kidnappers with a dog, who's wearing a vest how...wait dog in vest oh he must be a service dog. Cool not kidnappers then, just strangers, nice. Seemingly trans allys, slight common ground with the driver, and a service dog it might be safe to engage...or at least humor these men.

“It's fine, I'm They/Them for the record.” You say approaching the car, you make your way to the man leaning out of the window, somehow the presence of a service dog puts you more at ease, especially when the dog only spares you a single glance before his attention's back on the driver, who's not even pretending to pay attention to the two of you. His leg is bouncing up and down, it's not rhythmic and no one's paying attention even as it shakes the car. Probably has ADHD, your dad does that all the time when he's at a stop light, it's a subconscious movement he even does it in waiting rooms or anywhere where he has to sit still really.

“Oh, well sorry 'bout that Mx.” the man in the window stresses the “Mx” but not in the typical fuck boy way, more like he was reinforcing it to himself. “We just saw you walkin' and wanted to see if ya' needed a ride anywhere.” he says.

“If you're going to town, I'd appreciate one, but I wouldn't want to be a bother.” his smile brightens at this but you notice it doesn't reach his eyes, probably just being polite.

“Sure thing, hop on in.” He moves to slide back but you've already opened the passenger door and slid into the seat. Effectively snapping the driver out of whatever haze he was in to look at you, he looks back at his friend with confusion.

“Hi” you say to the driver who gives his own wary 'hey' in response as you buckle yourself in. The driver looked even more apathetic up close, dark eye bags under his eyes that were such a deep brown you couldn't see his pupil he also had that fluffy brown e-boy hair. Not the frizzy hair marketing itself as fluffy but the type that's genuinely fluffy looking forming soft waves in his hair.

If they are kidnappers they're really bad at it, especially if all you have to do to stun them is sit up front in a seat that has the second most control in the car and can escape quicker if the need arises. However, glancing back at the dog you notice his attention's still on the driver, it would be really dumb if a kidnapper brought their service dog with them to do a kidnapping so you're reassured that it's just two southern boys driving through Kepler. And they happened to spot a “damsel” in distress, so they came to the rescue.

“Oh, don't mind Connor he won't bother you. He's here for Toby right now.” The man in the back says and you see the man beside you grip the steering wheel tighter. You nod in response and feel a tickle at the base of your skull, you'll try holding back the tic to not freak the two out.

Just as “Toby” is about to put the car in drive, a bark is heard from the back seat. A frustrated sigh leaves Toby as his hand leaves the gear shift, scowl clear even on his masked face. You guess Toby needs Connor to let him know when he's safe to drive, it's rude to ask about these things but you can't help but guess why that'd be the case.

Another bark leaves Connor right as your head snaps to the right moving back to place, then right, right, up, and right before cracking violently.

“There we go.” you verbalize.

Toby's looking at you in what you can only guess is shock, not the worst reaction you've had to your tics, meanwhile you notice Brian's looking to Connor who's looking directly at you now. Then his head whips around to Toby and he barks, like clockwork Toby's shoulders jerk forwards and his hands jolt up. Connor looks back at you and gives a bark, your head jerks three times cracking your neck two of those times. Connor's gaze is still on you and you know he'll be in an ongoing ping pong game between you and Toby if you keep triggering each other's tics the entire drive, if you'd even be able to get to that point.

“I'm fine, thank you.” you said looking at Connor while holding the sides of your head, trying to as your friend Emonie once said 'keep the bobble head away'.

Thankfully Connor must have had a training course similar to ones you've helped with because he looks away from you and focuses on Toby, who he gives several barks to. Following those barks Toby pops his knuckles and makes a 'mrrwo' sound, sort of imitating a cat, before his head jerks sharply into his knee that jerked up at the same time. You cringe at the sight knowing that must have hurt, hands still firmly pushing your head you see Connor settle down in the back, still on alert but laying down as if to say the muscle spasms have passed. You won't risk removing your hands, you still need a ride into town and this whole situation's put you behind to where you won't make it if you walk now.

“pfft...” you look back to the blonde and he looks ready to burst with laughter from what he just watched. Heat creeping up your face you turn and look away, sure the situation's funny but you don't know these two men and honestly you just feel so embarrassed right now. Especially with last night's incident at the mini mart still fresh in your memory.

“Will you fucking shut up!” Toby barks out, and the blonde tries harder to suppress his laughing fit. Toby glares at his friend before turning his attention back to the road, hand on the gear shift he waits for an alert before putting the car in drive and doing a U-turn back to town.

It's been a while since you've been a passenger in a car, you actually get to take the time to relax and enjoy the passing scenery as Toby drives. He's a surprisingly good driver, most guys his age are speed demons and always want to see how fast they can get away with driving. Toby on the other hand is abiding by the limit even on this open stretch of road with no other cars. But you guess it comes with the territory of needing a service dog to be able to drive, have to abide by the rules. The drive's quiet, you take it as a good thing that the men aren't trying to question or get to know you. If they were kidnappers or up to something nefarious surely they'd be trying to distract you right now with endless chatter to let your guard down. Especially if they'd been watching you and knew what a total chattering encyclopedia you could be when given the right topic. You're gazing out into the window seeing the sign of the town get closer finally when the thought hits you.

“So, your name's Toby, is it short for Tobias?” turning to look at the man, he spares a single side glance with his furrowed brows before responding with an uneasy 'Yea'.

“Cool, sorry if that was a weird question. Tobias is like the best name I've ever heard but I've only met three Tobiases, including you. Could I call you Tobias or do you prefer Toby?”

“I don't really care.” gotta love apathy.

“Cool, cool. Thanks for the ride Tobias!” you chirp out.

“Hey, forgetin' that I'm the one who offered the ride?” The man in the backseat speaks up.

“No, you just never gave me your name. You said Connor's” and ear twitch is all you get such a good boy, “and you said Tobias'. Never mentioned your own.”

“It's Brian, sugar.” you were correct, this man is a fuck boy.

“Yikes, that's gross.”that was a reflex and it was now Toby's turn to laugh at his friend. The man didn't even hide his snickers even had his shoulders bouncing up and down, you think you even caught a mumbled “I won't hesitate bitch”. Meanwhile Brian sat stunned, guess he was used to people finding his nicknames more endearing, meaning he probably meant nothing by it and it was probably the southern accent but it just made you think of the senior men who'd hit on you back before you moved out here.

“Yea don't call me 'sugar', anyway, I'm YN, it's nice to meet you three.” Toby just nods as his laughter dies down a clucking sound resonates from his throat, Brian however goes right back to his friendly persona with a 'good to meet ya.' Again it's slightly off, it doesn't feel like he's trying to be polite...it feels like...you can't put your finger on it but it's familiar. Like when you fake a conversation with Nate or your mother on the days where exhaustion is nearly killing you, but Brian doesn't seem tired or sluggish.

The rest of the drive is relatively quiet as you direct Toby how to maneuver the streets and he parks in the parking lot of Dunkin'. While you were getting out you'd asked the men if you could get them anything from Dunkin' as a thank you for driving you. Brian tried to decline but Toby spoke over him with what “they” wanted.

“Ok cool, can Connor have a pup cup?” unsure if service dogs could have treats while working.

Sparing a glance to the good boy in question Toby shrugged “Yea, he's due for a break any-anyway.” he ends with popping his knuckles. You assume Connor only alerts motor tics when Toby is driving or about to start driving, since that tic didn't get clocked.

You repeat the order to the cashier once inside. You also get a frozen caramel coffee and an iced caramel coffee for you and Nate along with a box of donuts to pick from for the day. When she hands you everything you're able to balance Toby's order on top of your box and your drinks in the other hand. Walking out with the help of the next man coming in, nodding thanks as you pass him, you see Toby leaning against his car with Connor sitting next to him, no vest on.

It's terrifying how well trained Connor is, because the dog you left in the car barely paid you any mind. While this hyper pup's tail is wagging at just the sight of you, his paws lifting slightly in a tiny dance as you get closer. But he doesn't dare move from his sit, looking up at Toby for cues and looking at you who holds his treat. Had you not worn a mask for so long you may have missed the smile Toby gave Connor as he pat the dog's head. The slight crinkles around the edges were a dead give away though. With a quick snap Connor is released from whatever command he'd been held by and runs up to you once you're five feet from them.

Drooling mouth opening and closing in an odd mute bark for a dog this size. You take note of the fact that while he's jumping excitedly and pawing the air he hasn't laid a single paw on you. Whoever trained him knew what they were doing that's for sure. Looking up to Toby you hold the one hand outstretched for him to take his items, a tray with Connor's pup cup and his iced coffee, and a white baggie with three donuts, strawberry glazed, maple glazed, and an apple fritter.

Once he's taken his items you balance your drinks on top of the box. Connor's attention hasn't moved from you even through the exchange. You're a little confused by the pup's antics but he probably thinks he can get a donut off you.

“Sorry bubbie, your dad's got your treat not me.” that dopey little face tilts to the left not understanding you aren't the treat giver at this time. You laugh letting him smell the hand that had the coffee in it so maybe he'd understand you didn't have his treat. He excitedly sniffs you, and gives you a few licks before sitting back right in front of you with a blur of a tail behind him. Such a silly boy, he deserves some chin scritches.

“He's smart, told him you'd give 'im this.” Toby says holding out the pup cup to you, as you bend at an awkward angle balancing food in one hand while scratching his dog with the other.

Connor's a little disappointed when his pets stop but jumps to all fours when he sees the pup cup. His tail is wagging so fast you'd be afraid his butt will fall off, if that was a thing that could happen. You go to put the cup in front of him but Toby stops you.

“Hold on, Connor sit.” As soon as his name was called his bottom was on the ground. “You already know his release word so when you want him to take it just say the release.” He says offhandedly while placing the bag in the passengers seat and his drink in the cup holder. You can hear murmured arguing from inside the car, but choose to ignore it. These guys clearly aren't kidnappers, and if they were it's so stupid to kidnap you in broad day light after you just made a purchase and with literally a street in between you and your work, where your boss is waiting for you.

Placing the cup in front of Connor you didn't think it was possible for him to get any more excited but his tail is now undetectable by the human eye. He looks from his treat to you, back, and back to you. Toby said you already knew the release, and there's only one thing you've said to Connor throughout the trip.

“Thank you.” it's immediate, for such a well mannered service dog on and off duty this pup has no table manners. There is whip cream everywhere it's on the ground, his paws, even behind his head. How on earth did he manage that? This must be Connor's only character flaw because Toby is back with what you can only assume are all the napkins he had received in the donut bag, and service vest under his arm.

Once the pup cup was utterly decimated Connor sat happily, butt wiggling, as his dad wiped the rest of the whip cream off of him. Showing the pup the huge glob he had behind his ear only had him licking it off the napkin before licking his dad's face.

“Wrong.” Toby called, a little bummed the pup calmed down a bit but his tail was still going. Toby paused before he slipped the vest back on Connor. Head jerking back twice he looked over to you.

“You wanna say 'bye'?” you perked at the question, if you had a tail of your own it'd probably be wagging just as fast as Connor's.

Do you want to pet a dog, what kind of question was that? Of course you fucking do. Yea you might be late to work but petting a dog is always worth it. Setting your breakfast and coffee on the hood of the car you bent down with Toby to Connor's level.

If that dog could talk he'd tell everyone you gave the best ear scratches, sure you may have smooshed his wrinkly face a ton. But you were so nice and was that baby coos, ah he loves you new best friend. Connor jumped up when you started cooing and gave you a ton of kisses to the face. You couldn't stop laughing and the repetitive motion triggered a tic. Thankfully your mask was on so Toby couldn't see you tongue poke out repeatedly as you said “bleh” in between giggles.

“Wrong.” he says gently pushing the drooling pup away. Shaking the spit off his hand before scratching the pup under the chin, right where the bottom of his ear met his jaw. The pup instantly melted calming into his handlers touch. With his dog now calm he whistles and Connor is standing up straight, Toby slips the vest over his head and secures it. Connor the puppy has turned back into Connor the good boy working pup.

Grabbing your stuff from the hood of the car you turn to Toby and Connor, “Thanks again for the ride, and for letting me pet your dog.”

You're met with a simple shrug, not much phases Toby you've noticed. Aside from his tics that is.

“See ya later Tobias!” with that you're on your way to cross the street legally, and by that you totally jay walked out into traffic in front of the sheriff. You may have jay walked in front of the sheriff, but he didn't do anything so you're fine.

#A cure for insomnia #proxies x reader #proxies #ticci tobyx reader #ticcitoby #ticci toby #timothy wright #timothy wright x reader #brian thomas x reader #brian thomas #masky x reader #masky x hoodie #masky #hoodie #creepypasta fanfic

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jq37 · 3 years

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The Case File – Mice and Murder Ep 1

The Case of the The Pernicious Party

Hello, hello, hello! It’s been a hot second but your resident D20 recapper is back to tackle the newest season: Mice and Murder! Y’all had to know I wasn’t gonna sit out the murder mystery, are you kidding me???

I might be playing around with the format a bit in the coming weeks to make sure I have the best possible system for keeping track of possible clues, suspects, and theories as we untangle whatever web Brennan weaves for us this season so don’t be surprised if things change a little.

Anyway, without further ado, onto our mystery!

Summary

In case you missed it, this season takes place in an alternate, Zootopia/Wind in the Willows-esque universe where all the characters are animals but history seems to have happened in more or less the same way--for example there was still a King Charles but he was a King Charles Spaniel (cute Brennan). Our story specifically takes place in the English village of Tufting Meadows.

We start with Katie’s character--Gangie Green (Weasel/Thief Rogue) in the graveyard of the Anglican Chapel (Our Lady of Prayerful Paws). Gangie, we learn, is an orphan who was kicked out of the orphanage at some point for thievery. Obviously, he’s not reformed of the habit because he is here to do some graverobbing. On a nat 20 (that Katie hilariously doesn’t notice even though her total is like a 29) Gangie can see through the window of the rectory that there is a weeping window inside--Catherine McCabbage who is being (dubiously) tended to by Raph’s character, Vicar Ian Prescott (Owl/Bard, College of Eloquence).

Ian comes from a line of men of the cloth but he’s not exactly the best speaker despite his subclass. He’s doing his best though! The widow’s husband (Conor McCabbage) died at the local mill in what has been declared an accident but she suspects foul play. She’s been hearing his voice on the wind and wants Ian’s professional opinion on whether this could be a sign from God or if her husband might be speaking to her from beyond the grave or something like that. Ian gives a very muddled and not very comforting answer but seems pretty sure that something sketchy did in fact happen. Then, he sees a crack of lightning outside which illuminates the graveyard where he gets a glimpse of Gangie.

He goes to check it out (and Gangie fully has an elderly goat he’s dug up slung over his shoulder) but “gravedigger” is his legit job so Ian decides to assume whatever’s going on is legit and not ask too many questions. He goes back to the widow (who, before she leaves, says that maybe sometimes people need to work on God’s behalf) while Gangie takes the body Loam Hall (a massive manor, built into a hill).

We cut to the next day and our next two characters!

At 22B Hamsted Street in a pretty well appointed home are Ally and Grant’s characters. First up, we have Lars Vandenchomp (Huge ass Doberman/Battlemaster Fighter) who is so tough looking but also so Swedish sounding--it’s A Lot (so, incredibly on brand for Ally). Lars is security for Grant’s character Sylvester Cross (Fox/Inquisitive Rogue) who is a kinda (to use Grant’s word) “foppish” Sherlock Holmes type. He was hired by Squire William Thornwall Brockhollow to figure out what happened with Conor McCabbage (and clear him of negligence in running the mill) but he couldn’t find any evidence of any funny business, making this the only case he’s never cracked. He’s not as young or popular as he once was so this is, understandably, bumming him out. He’s even more bummed out when he realizes that William has invited him to his 60th birthday party that’s happening that night (as kind of a prop to show that he did his part in trying to solve the mystery) and Lars has already RSVP’d yes. He grudgingly agrees to go as it’s one of those asks that’s really more of a veiled demand but decides to pull the money he was paid from the bank first so he can return it and really stick it to the guy.

Finally, we cut to our last set of PCs who are on their way to Tufting Meadows via a very luxurious train. Inside are Sam and Rekha’s characters! Sam is Buckster $ Boyd (Peccary which is like a small boar/Mastermind Rouge) a Texan Oil Tycoon who acts exactly how you’d expect a Texan Oil Pig to act. Yes, you pronounce the dollar sign as “dollar sign” (even though as we find out later his middle name is Cassius so it’s like Cash which I think is super cool). With him is Rekha’s character, Daisy D'umpstaire (Raccoon/Assassin (???) Rogue another American (from South Carolina) though it seems she’s My Fair Lady’d herself into an upper class socialite (her last name was previously Dumpster). They’re traveling with their accountant, an Armadillo named Armond who seems kinda skittish and concerned about their travel expenses but Buck tells him that to make money you gotta spend money and they’re gonna make a *ton* of money on this trip. They’re also so so mean to him for absolutely no reason.

When the train stops, they’re greeted by Templeton Padhop (a frog, natch) who is the chauffeur of Loan Hall, sent to fetch them. A wheel on his car is broken so he joins in on the Armond abuse immediately and has Armond roll into an Armadillo ball and replace it. Poor guy. When they show up they're greeted by a footman--a pug in a bowler hat named Milo Snout.

Meanwhile, Lars and Sly (Oh, Sly fox, I see what you did there Grant) are similarly greeted by another footman--a lizard named Basil Baskins. On a 23 perception check, Lars sees that Jeremy “Jez” Brockhollow is inside (the son of William who is a badger btw) and also clocks Gangie (who they know as a career criminal who disappeared like a year ago). Gangie doesn’t notice Lars though.

Ian, who is also invited, shows up at about the same time as Sly but very quickly, the conversation is taken over by Lucretia “Lucy” Brockhollow, William’s older, eccentric sister who immediately gets into it with Lars about astrology and the occult (she thinks bad stuff is happening because of a curse let loose when Sly’s old rival--a rabbit named Fletcher Cottonbottom who is the son of his former employer--opened an Egyptian tomb). They’re thick as thieves right away because Ally is a nonsense magnet. And not like a regular magnet, one of those big electromagnets.

Daisy and Buck spot William’s kids--the aforementioned Jez and his older sister Constance--along with their husbands Dr. Corbin Magpie (Constance’s and obv a magpie and a doctor) and Osmond Sheffield (Jez’s who is a Ram and a lawyer). Daisy is too stuck in her conversation with a truly unhinged squirrel (Lady Eugenia Bristlebrush who clearly does not know she’s in a murder mystery because she just keeps talking about how much she hates and wants to kill everyone) to hear what’s going on but she indicates the conversation to Buck who is able to eavesdrop and hear that they’re lamenting that Catherine--the widow--RSVP’d no which is gonna look really bad, like they didn’t invite her (bad PR).

Buck, introducing himself as a business partner of William, eases into a conversation with the husbands which their respective spouses also join into and we learn that Buck's dad was British and a friend of Willian’s. Buck bonds with Jez (who is a bit of a dilettante) really quickly since Buck is ready to go drinks-wise immediately (and there’s a stellar pun about the “American [Drinking] Constitution''). Through the window, Buck notices Gangie outside getting his attention.

At the same time, Ian is going from party guest to party guest, giving out the penances he forgot to earlier at church (as one does). We see him talking to the Lord and Lady Bramble (a cow and hedgehog, respectively) and while she wants to pray her way out of situations without doing any legwork, he wants to buy his way out and gives Ian 250 pounds. A frustrating but financially lucrative conversation.

Buck goes outside to talk to Gangie who has a list of names of the bodies he’s been collecting. We’re not told what Buck is doing but it seems that this list is extremely valuable to him in some way. Gangie (who Buck keeps calling Gangly, to his annoyance) pays him handsomely (like, with a 50% tip) for the list (and Gangie gives him the real list, despite Brennan saying he didn’t have to). We also learn that Gangie has allegedly been getting the orders from someone in Loa Hall and they flow from William himself.

Matilda Molesly (a mole and the head maid) invites Gangie to come in from the rain--she’s the only person who’s been consistently nice to him and he agrees to come in for tea and scones.

Everyone is ushered together by the butler (because of course there’s a butler--he’s quite literally a fancy rat named Thomas Gilfoyle) and William gives a speech where he wishes Conor well and kinda highlights that he did hire Sly to solve the case in a “Hey, I did my bit don’t blame me” kind of way. He also makes a 150k pound donation to the church (and Ian thought 250 was good) and tells his daughter not to read the praise he got for it from the cardinal when she mentions it (I wonder if that was choreographed). Sly interrupts the speech to “magnanimously” give his money back, to William’s annoyance. Buck notices that Lawrence Longfoot (a nouveau rich, rabbit photographer) takes a pic of the scene but with Sly in the foreground and William in the background.

Then, a few things happen at once (in a very cinematic way):

As the camera flashes, Mrs. Molesly drops her tray, eyes hurt by the light. Lady Calliope Fawnbrooke (Deer, Matron of the Arts) helps her up.

In the moment of dark, after the flash goes away, the butler disappears.

Buck thinks he sees a shape through the window, out in the rain.

A cheer goes up for Sly for returning the money but all Sly can focus on is one figure he recognizes in the back of the room. Daisy, who is downing her drink and not cheering for him. He downs his as well, and looks at her until she breaks the stare and leaves the room.

And this episode doesn’t end with a dead body like I thought, but with a flashback to a younger Sylvester, 12 years ago when he first met Daisy.

PC INTERPERSONAL DRAMA Y’ALL!!! Get HYPED!

Case Notes

Here is a compilation of all the characters (PCs and NPCs introduced in this episode).

Sly mentions that Ignatius Cottonbottom faked his own death as a part of some scheme which seems like a backstory point that might come back later--we now know that there exists a way to convincingly fake your own death in this world.

Sly walks with a walking stick because of some “mysterious accident” but we’re jumping into a flashback next week so it looks like we might find out about it pretty soon.

Sly also mentions he used to be the personal physician to the elder Cottonbottom so those are skills he has. I wonder if that’ll be useful to this healer-less party. I wonder if cleric was even an option in this world which seems to be low to no magic. It would explain by Ian is a bad and not a cleric.

Lars has a military background which I wanted to mention in case it becomes relevant later.

And Dr. Magpie grew up poor and still acts it a bit even though he married a very rich woman. Brennan uses the very good line, “He forces his body into the shape of an apology”

This might be a really deep cut reference but did anyone else here was the old Britcom “Keeping Up Appearances”? Cause I was getting serious Bouquet/Bucket energy from Daisy.

This is an all College Humor season and it shows. The energy of 6 (7 if you count Brennan) top notch comedians sparking off of each other, trying to one up each other is off the charts. Some of the best bits this episode:

“When God closes every door but one, you go through the door that is open.” followed by “I’m an owl by the way.”

“Time is money, here’s both” from Buck re his inscribed gold pocket watch--everyone at the table loved that so much and they’re right.

Armond going from being a third to a fourth wheel.

And the names--I already shouted out a ton on the main recap but also a rat butler (like Rhett Butler) and naming the mouse Cat(therine). Can’t forget Gangie Green/gangrene from Katie. Also points to Ally for the data stealing Eel Musk which broke Brennan a little.

I know we just went through this with Crown of Candy but what are these animals eating? Like, in Zootopia there were only mammals so we can assume the carnivores are eating like birds and fish but there are sentient birds here. I know this isn’t important. I’m not trying to do a CinemaSins gotcha. I just wonder, you know?

Y’all were waiting for all the lights to go out during that speech and then come back on and there’d be a body too, right?

If Brennan makes the bad guy a chicken or a duck or something so he can make a “fowl play” joke, he is cordially invited to catch these hands.

I have been waiting for Raph and Katie to do D20 forever. Their specific brand of nonsense on Rank Room was always amazing.

I love love love that Grant and Rekha are the PCs that have ~a past~ because they are so funny together. If you haven’t seen their episode of Game Changers, you absolutely must (it’s also a murder mystery actually!).

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #mice and murder #mice and murder spoilers #the case file #points and also glares to camwritery for pointing out that grant also went for the silver fox pun #i will be fighting both of you at my earliest convenience

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anonthenullifier · 3 years

Text

An Awakening

Vision learns the truth of his life prior to Westview which leads to an honest conversation with Wanda.

Ao3 link

There is nothingness and then there is a calliope, it’s jaunty little ditty shocking his mind enough that Vision’s eyes snap open. Blades of grass tickle his cheek and an aura of flashing lights draws him up, palms pressed firmly onto the ground as he hoists himself up into a seated position. His body aches, a faint echo in his mind of being violently torn apart, but it is a feeling that fades the faster he thinks about it. Since it seems important, he tries to move his mind away, hoping that if he doesn’t explicitly focus on it that it will not be forgotten.

Vision nods, goes to stand up, but finds his legs not responding fully, knees buckling under the weight of a fleeting memory of immense pain. A hand loops under his right bicep, the woman’s other hand coming to rest on his back as she helps him up with an aggrieved, “Why can men never admit when they’re hurt?” The snark behind the comment feels forced, the same underlying terror on her face as all the other residents here.

That’s when he remembers, most of it at least. He was on his own reconnaissance patrol, inching ever more methodically toward the edge of town to see how far Wanda’s influence reached. The horror of his findings, their frozen, crying faces, almost knocks him back to the ground, but luckily the woman’s hands are still there to steady him. “Thank you.”

“Did you go in the funhouse?” It’s not really a question the way her voice falls, more of a statement with a rhetorical uptick at the end. “Heard it’s really disorienting with all the clowns.”

Vision doesn’t recall such an attraction anywhere in Westview but then he looks up, following the still present music in the air, and finds an entire carnival before him. Red and white striped tents tower out of the ground, stalls for food send plumes of greasy smoke into the air, and numerous game stalls are lined up where stuffed animals and blowup hammers hang joyfully from the walls. This is new. What is also new is that there are houses and roads beyond Ellis Avenue, which seems right, as if it was always like that, but there is a niggle of unease that tells him this isn’t true, if only he could access the information that makes him feel that way.

“Oh, um , thank you.” His costume is, at least by his understanding of how Billy and Tommy reacted, not sick by any means. Regardless, he finds his hand moving on its own accord to grip the cape, wanting to feel the object of her jealousy. It feels different, slicker and more aerodynamic than the one Wanda left in the closet. He yanks it a bit farther forward and notes that it is also a much more subdued gold with flecks of crimson in parts. A glance down also confirms that his green and yellow ensemble is gone, replaced by teals and reds, no athletic shorts covering the skin tight ensemble.

This is all wrong.

Vision knows the town never had a circus, nor the rows of houses beyond Ellis, he knows that he was not in this outfit and that everything feels just a bit off.

“Do you want some coffee or a ride back home?” The concern in her voice goes deeper than one would expect, even though she did find him injured on the ground, something more wavers in her words. Vision decides that he needs more answers than questions and, even though he hates taking away people’s autonomy, he reaches towards her temple. “Woah,” the woman swats his hands away, “I have pepper spray.”

“I will not harm you.” Oddly her face softens and she drops the threat, allowing him to send a pulse of golden energy into her head.

The change is instantaneous, the woman’s face becoming far more animated, “Vision?! Oh my God, you’re okay!” This is now the second awakened person to recognize him, to be excited at the prospect that he is there to help. “Oh what the hell!” Vision watches the woman’s hand run along her gaudy canary and ruby diner uniform, one that is common in little run down diners on the highway, a thought that he doesn’t quite know how to substantiate since he doesn’t seem to have a memory of such a stop and yet the knowledge is there. As she inspects her clothes, grunting in disbelief and irritation built into every movement, she confuses him further, “I’m an astrophysicist and this is what I get? So disrespectful.”

Neither Norm nor Agnes responded in such a...laid back way to be awakened, both in immeasurable pain that this woman seems to show no signs of. “Miss, are you okay?”

“Doctor, not Miss.”

“My apologies.”

She turns a bright, closed lip smile towards him, reaching out her hand as she says, “I’m Darcy.”

He takes the proffered hand and gives it a polite shake. Even though it is clearly unnecessary he adds, “And I’m Vision.” What he says next is a bit of a surprise to him, mainly because he doesn’t feel like he has a basis for the assumption that she will know the answer, but for some reason he has full faith she can help him, that she wants to help him. “Who am I? What,” he surveys the carnival around him, “what is happening here?”

“Straight to the big questions.” It is not derisively or caustically stated, in fact there is far more affection than one would expect from a stranger. Darcy glances around, nervous for the first time, “I’ll try to be quick, I’m sure your wife’ll be here soon.” This fear is not new, sadly, the same insinuation made by Norm about Wanda’s involvement. “Let’s see, you’re Vision, obviously,” a small, self conscious chuckle goes along with the statement. “You’re an Avenger,” luckily, she senses his desire for more, quickly adding, “group of super powered people, well, not all of them have super powers, some just have really amazing tech, but anyway you’re a team that fights bad guys and saves the universe.”

“Wanda and myself, we were-“

“Yep, joined at the same time and then fell in love, really cute.”

This confirms what Agnes said, which suggests that perhaps her other words were true as well. “Am I...dead?” All joy leeches from Darcy’s face, a deflated nod going along with the tightening of her lips. “How?”

Darcy looks around again and Vision can’t help but join her in the action, can’t help but feel a little bit nervous about who doesn’t want him to know this. “Shortened version - big purple angry grape named Thanos was collecting all the infinity stones, this includes the Mindstone,” Vision’s fingers rise up to brush the gem. “Wanda had to kill you to try and stop him.”

“She killed me?”

Quickly context is added, “Only because you,” she levels a finger at his chest to emphasize his role and take blame off his wife, “insisted she do it.”

None of what she says makes sense. “Why would I do that?”

The next statement is said in a way that typically is coupled with a playful fist against the shoulder that leads into a jovial shove. “Being all self-sacrificial’s kinda your thing. Which is super noble, don’t get me wrong, but a bit rough on the people around you, like asking them to kill you for the greater good.”

Which is a fair point and one he will need to cogitate on at a later time, “Why did Wanda, specifically, have to kill me?”

“Oh because she was the only one strong enough to destroy the Mindstone.”

A logical assessment that he can easily believe his former self to have made. “Was she successful?”

Darcy’s voice quiets somewhat, a slight tremble in her words, “She was. But then Thanos reversed time, brought you back, and murdered you right in front of her.”

Suddenly his worldview shifts, new meaning and understanding emerging as to some of Wanda’s actions and her strong reaction to his accusations the other night. Despite this dawning of understanding, there is still a major question he feels hasn’t been answered. “But then how are we here? How am I,” he falters on the next word, as early as this evening not thinking it was something that could be false, “alive?”

“That’s the million dollar question. No one knows.” A high pitched whizzing vibrates in the air, punctuated by calls of Vision! “I gotta go,” she begins to walk away, but turns back with an anger not yet present in her words, “Quick FYI, if you meet a guy named Hayward, don’t trust him, he’s a dick.”

“I um, will not, thank you.”

She starts to leave again and then stops, “Also, we don’t have proof it’s all Wanda. Food for thought.”

Vision appreciates the comment, “Thank you.” It is when she actually walks away that he is the one that has a realization of not re-invoking whatever trance the people of the town are in. “Darcy!” She turns expectedly towards him as he approaches with his hands out and ready to take the pain from her, except she swats his hands away, yet again.

“Stop it, I’m a better ally awake.”

Based on the prior two people he has spoken to in their awakened state, this seems a poor choice for her. “Does it not hurt?”

“I mean, yeah, feels like I went on a tequila bender last night and haven’t had water in weeks.” How she remains so lighthearted is beyond him, but he admires it immensely, “but I can’t help you if I’ve forgotten.”

Though he isn’t sure it is in her best interest to remain in such a state, the idea of a confidant is appealing. “Very well.”

Seconds after she walks away, blue streaks materialize around Vision, both his sons and his wife appearing suddenly in front of him. This is unusual but he doesn’t get a chance to inquire about their speedy entrance, Billy rushing towards him first with a relieved, “Dad!” Vision catches him, using the momentum of his son’s leap to lift him and hold him close, Billy’s arm wrapping protectively around Vision’s neck. Tommy follows shortly after, his run far more powerful as he slams into Vision’s torso with a tight hug.

It is Wanda who hesitates, her eyes faintly glowing red, a deep, concerned frown on her lips. “Vizh,” her voice cracks and his heart breaks at the pain she tries so valiantly to mask. Vision manages to get one of his hands free enough to motion Wanda closer. She accepts the offer, one arm winding around his waist and the other laying on Tommy’s shoulders.

They have only been home for three hours and yet this is the tenth Wanda has found herself standing in the doorway, hand propped along the wooden frame. In the room Vision lies in bed, eyes closed and resting, Billy is wrapped around him, his arm thrown across his father’s chest and head buried just under the vibranium dot of Vision’s chin, and Tommy is curled snuggly into Vision’s other side. The boys are still in their costumes, Billy’s cape sprawled behind him on their mattress and Tommy’s now flat hair looking a bit crusty from the spray dye. It’s an idyllic scene and yet Wanda fights back tears, shoving the drops away from her eyes as if they are an enemy that needs to be thwarted.

She almost lost Vision...again. The boys almost lost their father at ten years old, an age for which grief is overwhelming and confusing, can shape a life forever, or so she intimately knows.

Reluctantly her body pulls away from the door, arms crossing over her chest as she walks back downstairs, not once considering peeking in on her brother in the guest room. That is a problem she is still trying to figure out, the man a stranger, an antagonist, but with her brother’s name. There are too many inconsistencies in his behavior, too many contradictions in his words, half of them true to her brother and the other far too knowing of events that occurred after his death. Unsurprisingly he and Vision clash, a thought that briefly makes her mouth perk up, always having a belief that if her brother lived he would have begrudgingly accepted her relationship while also making it his personal duty to make jabs at Vision, who Wanda always knew would take it with a silent dignity that was then removed late at night when he’d insist on lengthy conversations with her to figure out the insults. That’s what life was supposed to be. What life is now, technically.

The gurgle of water washes away these thoughts, her focus now solely on filling the kettle and getting it on a burner to boil. Except the distraction is short lived as she sits down at the kitchen table to wait, fingers interwoven and glowing faintly of the residual scarlet energy she had to use tonight. Wanda fixates on her fingers, bending and straightening them, unsure how she knew what to do or even had the power to expand the town. But that’s not the most troubling incident of the night. No, what pesters at her resolve is a simple thought: Why did Vision want to leave? They have everything here - a house, Billy and Tommy, each other, and the time they always tried so hard to find.

Wanda startles at the creak of the kitchen cabinet, heart still racing as she takes in the curve of Vision’s shoulders and the vibranium band along the back of his head. Silently he makes her a cup of tea, hands moving calmly through the ritual he created, the cup always the same distance from the kettle, bag placed at the bottom with the string hanging out precisely two inches, both hands holding the kettle (one on the handle and one at the base) as a perfect arc of water fills the cup, and finally one and a third spoonfuls of sugar. The sequence completed, Vision walks the cup to the table, placing it gently down with barely a clink from the porcelain. She expects him to sit down across from her, to silently stare for a minute or so before bringing up the town again, reopening the wounds of their last fight because they never actually resolved anything other than to try and act normal around the boys. But he doesn’t, instead he takes her hand, tugging it until she stands, and then he hugs her, engulfing her entire being in his presence. The firmness of his chest and the tinny waft of vibranium are just as soothing as the kisses he peppers along the top of her head, each one more doting than the last. “Vizh,” Wanda reluctantly pulls back a few inches, hand squeezing between their bodies until she can cup his face, “are you…”

“I know,” he kisses her properly now, not like the emotionless peck earlier in the day, this one imbued with all of his love and all of his concern. “I know enough.”

A chill moves through her body, limbs growing rigid and heart almost coming to a complete stop. “What do you mean?”

Vision’s fingers move up to trace lines through her hair, palm coming to rest on her cheek. The surety of his prior statement lessens, mouth sinking lower until it’s a shallow frown. “I know that I am,” it is unlike him to pause like this, to seem to want to avoid a conversation he himself brought up, “that I was dead.”

Her denial is immediate and viscera, “What are you talking about, why would you…” but then his doleful gaze meets hers, the ridges of his synthetic skin bunched together in a show of deep, aching pain, though it is clear from the way he holds her, the way he places a far too gentle kiss to her forehead, as if the action itself might knock her over, that he is more concerned for her than himself, which is the epitome of who he was...who he is. If there is anything she can offer that matches this unerring compassion, it has to be honesty because clearly hiding the truth from him will not stop his incessant march towards the truth. But that is easier to think about than it is to actually commit to doing. Wanda swallows down a sob and fights to keep her voice calm. “You were.” The confirmation is too much, her chest heaving as all the memories rush to the forefront of her mind--her hands erupting in red at the feel of the Mindstone fracturing, at the almost silent I love you , and then having to watch him come back only to die in a far more brutal way.

Strong arms that shouldn’t exist continue to encase her, draw her deeper into the comfort of his embrace, the feel of his fingers running through her hair with the same gentle “Wanda” he always said when soothing her. Deep down she knows it is all a lie, this life, this man, this blissful existence. Because as a Maximoff there is only one constant in life and it is sorrow, biting, empty, unavoidable sorrow. Which begs the question of how, exactly he found out. A question that infuriates her and invokes the well know feeling of being caged in by the inevitability of her life.

Wanda steps out of his arms, trying her best not to show how much pain that simple movement creates, her body screaming to remain against his forever, but selfishly she needs answers more than anything, needs information to help her regain some level of control over her emotions, has to know why he put his family through so much just to find out this awful truth. “Why aren’t you happy here?”

A denial forms quickly, his body taut at the accusation, “I am happy Wanda, how could I not be?”

“Because you left, you...you abandoned us today,” Wanda knows she shouldn’t use the next part in anger or for gain, but she needs her husband to understand the severity of it all. “Did you know Billy can sense you?”

Vision’s “He can?” is hard to read, both concerned and in awe, with something else she can’t quite pinpoint.

“Yes, and his first experience of that was feeling you try to die because we apparently aren’t important enough to stay alive for.” The comment hits as intended, Vision stepping back, horror forming in the spasming muscles of his face as he looks up towards the ceiling, towards where he left their sons. “What are you trying to find out there?”

Vision’s simple, “The truth,” is aggravatingly vague, thankfully, or not depending on how this goes, he clarifies, “There is something wrong in Westview, Wanda. The people are in agony.”

A fed up laugh comes out with her “Aren’t we all?” Only Vision can’t find the humor, the gears in his eyes twisting clockwise and counterclockwise while he stares at her, face ladened with a suffocating sympathy.

He takes a step towards her and she steps back, not missing the way her reaction hurts him. “Wanda, it is not like you to inflict pain on innocent people.”

Since they started this new life, her memories have been hazy, coming in and out of consciousness, enough clarity to understand that whatever is happening in Westview is preferable to outside of it. After tonight, after Pietro’s comment about her dead husband, it’s all there and she realizes that she’s never gotten to say out loud what she did, what Thanos forced her to do, the Avengers too scattered with all that needed to be attended to after his defeat to focus on anyone but themselves. So she squares her shoulders, lifts her head and puts all of her self loathing into her next comment, “If that’s true, then why did I kill you?”

This time when Vision steps towards her she lets him grip her arms, let’s him guide her until her face is pressed into his chest, allowing her to hear the beating of his synthetic heart. “You were only doing what I had asked.”

“Well it wasn’t worth it,” her voice is muffled by the teal sweater he’s wearing, “and I can’t, I can’t forgive myself.”

His arms tighten around her, one hand gripping the fabric of her sweatshirt and the other holding her head to his sternum. “You did nothing wrong. If anyone is to blame-”

It doesn't take a telepath to know what empty words he is about to mutter. Wanda forces herself from his embrace and stares hard into his eyes, “Don’t, Vision, just don’t. It won’t change what happened.”

Reluctantly he accepts it, moving cautiously back to the original topic of their discord, “Is this,” he gestures vaguely around them, “the result of,” it is still hard for him to say, which she appreciates because she can’t say it easily either, “my death?”

“I don’t know,,” this time he seems to accept her ignorance, which allows her a chance to actually consider it more. All she can really recall is the crushing loneliness and the suffocating despair of losing the last person she loved in the world. It’s not a stretch to assume that had something to do with now. “Maybe?” If he knows about his death, she reasons that she might as well tell him the other nightmare she discovered upon her own rebirth, something she’s tried to block out as best she can. “It could also be from finding out some shady government organization was experimenting on your corpse.”

Shock is too gentle a word, hatred a tiny bit too strong for the tone of his voice, “That does not seem like an activity I would condone.”

“It’s the exact opposite of what you requested.” Wanda thinks back to that day, and unlike Vision, pure, unabashed hatred flowed through her veins when she received an anonymous tip. Hatred at S.W.O.R.D, at the scientists going against Vision’s will, hatred at the world for being so awful, and hatred at her teammates who let it happen, who didn’t seem to consider that agencies like that lie, that they would never want the body only for “safe-keeping.” All Vision wanted was a burial and she was determined to provide him that, to allow herself the closure she needed. So she broke in, sickened at the way they’d disassembled him and had separate monitors attached to his limbs and head. “I broke in,” Vision holds his breath as she talks, “I took you from them and all I remember is flying away. I was going to bury you in the forest, like you wanted.” That’s where her memory stops and where Westview begins. “And then we were driving to our house after getting married.” Finally he releases his breath with a shuddering gasp. “That’s all I remember, you have to believe me that I have no idea what’s going on.” Unlike the other night, he wordlessly accepts her ignorance, mind likely still reeling from the revelations she shared. It is this lack of judgment that emboldens her to say what’s been swirling through her mind whenever the knowledge of reality sets in, a thought that should carry with it guilt but she can’t muster up guilt when she finally has what she has been denied over and over again. “But I’d be lying if I tried to convince you that I don’t prefer what we have in Westview.”

With a hand on her back, he leads her to the table, pulling out the chair in front of the barely steaming tea, and then he sits directly next to her, tenderly taking her left hand in his own, thumb rubbing absentmindedly along her wedding ring. “I cannot fault you in any way for that feeling. If not for being complicit in the pain of so many, I would wholly embrace this life we have now.”

His tacit disapproval is only slightly less painful than his yelling, but she has to begrudgingly accept that he may not be completely wrong. Whatever pain he has sensed in others was enough to make him tear through the barrier and risk losing his own family. “But what if,” still she fights against figuring it out, unsure she can handle what it might lead to, “what if fixing this means I lose you again,” which is already incomprehensible, but is made even more harrowing by the next possibility, “what if it means losing Billy and Tommy too?”

Tears lick at the corners of his eyes, a war waging on his lips of how to proceed. “It will be horrifying and it will be immensely difficult but you,” he grabs her other hand, his fingers forming a vice around her own and she isn’t sure if he is trying to convince her or himself more, “are so remarkably resilient.”

Sometimes she wishes his density manipulation applied beyond just his body. “Clearly not, Vizh. Look around us.”

Vision doesn’t, instead he looks down at their enjoined hands, a shaky breath recentering his thoughts. “I think we may be, as they say, putting the cart before the horse.” The verbal shift is so utterly ridiculous that she chuckles, an action that causes him to smile nervously. “Did I use it wrong?”

“No, it just, you always say it so academically.”

“I see.” Finally real, genuine amusement flits across his face. “Well, regardless, we don’t know what is happening, unless there is something you aren’t telling me.” It is not an accusation in the slightest, in fact it is said as an aside, almost hopeful that she’s waiting to surprise him with the solution.

There is a lot she hasn’t said, but none of it seems vital other than perhaps one observation. “I definitely have control here,” this itself is painful to admit. Where he is merely complicit if he remains here, she is actively continuing it, “but, I don’t, I don’t know how to explain it, but I don’t know how I’m doing this.” Vision takes in the admission, brow furrowing as he no doubts files it away in his future mysteries to solve mental folder. “Like tonight,” she thinks back to when Billy told her about the soldiers, to the moment she realized what Vision had done, “All I knew is that I needed to save you because I couldn’t lose you again. I didn’t have any idea of how or what to do, but I felt like if I just put all of my powers into it, that something would happen.”

It’s amazing how easily he transitions into his cool and clinical investigator voice, “Is this the first time you’ve felt that?”

“No. I mean sometimes I have an idea of what I’d like,” such as when she saw the beekeeper come out of the sewer and then vanquished it, “but other times I just have a hope it will be fixed.”

“That is a start.”

Wanda waits for more and when it doesn’t arrive,she pushes for it, “What does that mean?”

He releases her hands and pats his legs, an odd energy reinvigorating in him. “We must figure out the source of these alterations. Clearly it is not just you.” A fact she can’t say for certain but doesn’t have the heart to correct him on, enjoying how it feels like they’re a team again instead of bitter foes. “I met someone tonight who has knowledge of our prior lives.”

This is unexpected and terrifying. Perhaps the only good thing is that she knows it is not Pietro, because she is not willing to trust him, but to be fair, she isn’t sure she can trust whomever Vision found. “Who is it?”

“Her name is Darcy, she says she is an astrophysicist and has a seemingly strong grasp on what happens outside of Westview.”

Vision is not a very strong judge of character all the time, quick to trust and slow to lose hope in a person, as evidenced by his continued trust in her, yet she asks him anyway. “Are you sure we can trust her?”

“I believe so.”

“Okay.” For now she lets him hold on to that belief, knowing that she will be able to assess this person when they meet. Which also means she knows, deep down, that if this person ends up like Monica, one of S.W.O.R.D.'s cronies, that she’ll be forced to take control again.

The sincerity of his “Thank you,” and the tenderness with which he grabs her hand again, bringing it to his lips with a bit too much romantic melodrama, brings about a fluttering warmth in her chest she has so dearly missed, one that chases away all the disparaging thoughts of what is to come, “truly, for your honesty.” Wanda simply smiles in return, not entirely certain her honesty is worth much at the moment.

It is a relief when Vision maneuvers the conversation to a happier topic. “You said Billy could sense me tonight?”

Pride spreads her lips into a toothy grin, “He’s a natural telepath.”

Vision shares her feelings, sitting back with a satisfied smirk. “We shall have to see if he has your telekinesis as well.”

“We will. Also, Tommy has superspeed.”

Vision’s paternal delight perks up his entire body. “Remarkable.”

“They’re pretty impressive.” Wanda finally picks up the tea and takes a sip, not caring it no longer holds any warmth, far too enamored and distracted by Vision launching into a suggestion of a training regime for their sons, the Maximoff family seeming to be front and center in his mind. If there is any kindness in the world, they deserve at least one night to care about themselves and no one else.

#wandavision #wanda maximoff #vision #darcy lewis #scarlet vision #mine

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jaggedwolf · 4 years

Text

TSCOSI Ficlets #3

Ghost of your loved ones judging your choices

Three hours after that headache-inducing call with the Rumor, Violet's still working. Their answer had come soon after the call ended. She's not sure what the point of the delay even was. But like Thasia said, they're in no position to refuse help.

Small chance of success. Doesn't mean Violet won't pull on the webs she can, thread some others together. She keeps typing. Hadn't she-

"You should sleep."

Violet's fingers still. She reluctantly drags her head up to acknowledge this occasional guest.

In life, Emily Craddock had been a wisp of a woman. In death, it makes her a picture-perfect ghost, ethereal and untouchable.

(In dying, it had made her terrifyingly small to hold, thin voice growing thinner. Her grip on Thasia's hand had only slackened at the very end.)

"I'm working," mutters Violet. She doesn't start typing again.

"I'm quite sure you are." Craddock floats closer. Her voice is whole, the words flowing together, and Violet is once more annoyed at herself for her computer-induced slip in front of the Rumor crew.

Raising an eyebrow, Craddock says, "Surely some of it could wait. Thasia wouldn't be asleep otherwise."

Both their gazes drift to the softly snoring Thasia on the bed a few feet away from them. Violet grimaces. "Thasia could sleep for a thousand hours and they'd probably still be on a deficit."

Craddock's eyes narrow. "They're not helpless."

"I know," snaps Violet tiredly. "That's not what I said. I-Do you want me to wake them?"

"Not unless they've suddenly gained the ability to see or hear me." Craddock lets out a high laugh. "I didn't come by to make you play intermediary."

"Then what?" The universe has always been low on sense, but Violet can't help think it a particularly absurd choice for her to be the one seeing Craddock, not Thasia. Even if personal history was put aside, Violet's confident the spiritual sort's a better fit for ghost whisperer than the biologist-slash-spy.

"You need to sleep. You're terrible in the mornings when you haven't had enough sleep."

"I'm terrible in the mornings when I haven't gotten enough work done."

"That's true." A thoughtful expression on her face, Craddock sits cross-legged next to Violet, sinking to float only an inch off the ground. "Another half hour then."

"Fine."

As Craddock begins humming, Violet resumes her work.

Invading someone's dreams

Brian doesn't feel great about this. Not like they've got a whole lot of options.

That Dwarnian artifact easily knocked Arkady unconscious shortly after she put it down, left her sweating and twisting and murmuring in the medbay bed, and then it as easily offered an avenue into her.

Krejjh's busy piloting. Captain's busy coordinating with their contacts. Violet's busy taking care of Arkady's body.

That leaves Brian with Arkady's mind.

He doesn't know if he really expected anything in particular, but he's relieved to find himself in the Rumor. Would have felt kinda grubby seeing somewhere new.

Ahead of him, Arkady stalks down the hallway, her footsteps cautious. When she touches her comms, it sparks and she swears. She has a gun out.

Brian almost instinctively shadows her the way she likes it - three steps behind, angled so that she's always between him and the next turn. He lingers further back, and watches.

She takes another step, the hallway suddenly replaced by the slightly bigger mess. Classic dream logic. Brian squashes his fascination at that bit, what it'd be like to roll out the progression of someone's dream.

Arkady stands in the center of the mess, dark eyes sweeping across the doors in front of her. Brian's against a wall to the right of her, but she doesn't seem to notice him. Maybe he's like, invisible in here? Cool, but would probably make persuading her to wake up kind of difficult.

A door slams open, and Brian sees a flash of purple the same time he hears Arkady's gun go off.

He hears the gun clatter on the ground, but he doesn't look at Arkady, not now, not when his heart is freezing at the sight of Krejjh collapsed in the doorway, green blood oozing from under where their hand clutches their chest.

It's not them, he reminds himself, They're in the Iris's cockpit now. He still can't look away.

"First...Mate...Pa"-Krejjh's slurred words are cut off by a cough.

"Shit, no." Arkady scrambles towards Krejjh, gun on the ground forgotten, skidding on to her knees once she's close enough. Her voice turns ragged. "Not again, I didn't-"

Brian blinks, and the scene resets.

Arkady in the middle of the mess, gun in her hand, no sign of Krejjh anywhere. Her expression is once again as carefully neutral as it was at the start.

A door opens. Brian winces, expecting another gunshot. Instead, he hears his own voice.

"Hey, dude, have you seen any of the others?" Dream-Brian peeks his head through, an unsettling replica, and looks hopefully at Arkady.

"No." Arkady scowls. "Come on, stick close. I don't like this."

"I'm not the biggest fan of not knowing where the others are either." Dream-Brian joins Arkady in the middle of the room, and when she slides in front of him, still keeping a lookout, Brian feels a familiar relief.

Dream-Brian's hands are in his hoodie pocket. That isn't odd - Brian's hands are in his own hoodie pocket right now.

Then Dream-Brian pulls a knife out from the pocket and stabs Arkady in the lower back. Arkady crumples to her knees, twisting around in a way that jars the knife in her. She's not looking at Dream-Brian but past him.

Dream-Brian shrugs. Pulls out the knife. "Should’ve watched your back, Kady."

The pain in Arkady's face gives way to confusion. "Wh-"

The scene resets, and Arkady is once more whole and standing in the middle of the mess.

Okay, no. Brian doesn't know what's going on here, how much of this is the Dwarnian artifact putting Arkady through a messed up test and how much of this is Arkady's own ridiculousness, but he is done playing witness.

"Arkady," he says loudly, striding up to her.

When she looks at him, he thinks: That's a start.

Non-americanizing your canon

Violet's sense of professional ethics was never about saving face. Saving face would have been never taking this case on in the first place, never having the government's quiet ire about Ms Patel's - no, Arkady's claims extend to Violet's untarnished medical reputation.

So. It's only after Violet has proven herself useless, and Arkady has no need of her expertise, that she finds herself sweating through her blouse in a hawker centre with Arkady.

Yishun is a longer drive for Violet than it is a train and bus ride for Arkady. It seems fair, given the length of Arkady's regular journeys to her office.

"Sana's satay recommendation was good," says Violet, after her fifth stick. She's already considering another plate, fishing around in her purse for the tell-tale purple of loose two dollar bills.

Arkady pauses tearing through her own stick - mutton, not chicken. "Of course it was. It's Sana," she says, like that explains everything. Her right hand stays deliberately limp on the bright yellow plastic surface of the table.

Violet cuts straight to the point. "The police appeared at my office yesterday. They confiscated all our computers. And scared off a few patients."

"What." Arkady's head snaps up, a growl to her voice.

"I have backups. And I had good security on all the records, after that discussion with you and Sana."

Arkady's expression is question enough.

"Connors."

"Huh." Arkady tears off another bit of satay. "Guess the expat would be less scared." Arkady frowned. "What did the police say?"

Violet snorts. "Nothing. Said I could come down to the police station to pick up the hard drives."

What comes out of Arkady's mouth is a series of colorful curses. No stranger to Arkady's verbosity, Violet instead notes that Arkady's command of Hokkien is much better than her own command of Cantonese.

The SAF can take some credit for that. Just like them and their training accident could take credit for Arkady's ruined right hand, shaking and inconsistent and yet somehow, never with quite enough paperwork done to warrant an official investigation. Even less than there would have been if Arkady had been an NSman or a reservist.

No outrage for those who chose their duty.

"Fuck, Violet," is the final bit of Arkady's tirade. "Don't try to hide shit from them."

"I wasn't planning on going down there, " says Violet. She picks up the next stick of satay, ignoring Arkady's unmoving gaze on her. "As I said, I have backups. If they want to interrogate me, they'll have to actually detain me."

"Then that's what they're going to do," hisses Arkady. "Violet, give them what they want. Be the innocent doctor misled by a lying delinquent who blew a good chance when she had one."

"I'm not, though."

Violet doesn't mean recently, because of her involvement with Arkady.

Violet's never been innocent.

There's a hypothetical she toys with in her head, one more illuminating in how it doesn't differ from reality than how it does. If Arkady and her were men, Arkady would have done her two years and likely ended up enlisting anyway ; Violet would have gotten a deferment for medical school.

This isn't guilt. Guilt guiding one's decisions, in Violet's opinion, is dangerous both in a medical context and outside of it. It's not about righting the scales, hurting herself as if that would lessen the hurt Arkady's endured.

It's this: Violet doesn't want to imagine a world in which she doesn't have the back of the woman in front of her, a woman made of disbelieving words and hopeful eyes and a smidge of peanut sauce on the front of her white singlet. Violet doesn't know if she can become the kind of person that has that woman's back.

She wants to try.

Five Names Arkady Chose, and One She Didn’t (300 words 5+1)

First name's easy. Three syllables, like her current one. Slips out with a pained grunt. It's from some stupid vid she loved as a kid. Who's she kidding, from some stupid vid she loves.

Last name's a joke. Tantalizingly identifying, till they realize how many people they gotta search through.

There's one that never gets turned into a proper alias. An idle thought during another night in the deep, indulging in an old habit because it might have a use. Alternate name and alternate life.

But this one's not a soldier, and the war will always be visible on her

"I didn't know there were duchies nearby," says the bearded guy easily. His eyes say otherwise.

She’s got three guns and two knives hidden in this fancy suit. He's not carrying anything, but if he's stayed alive in Neuzo...

"Krejjh." The guy turns away. "Did you?"

A Dwarnian ally, shit.

She gives the coif a tug. Good thing it's not a different religion's building they need to sneak into, or they'd be shit out of luck.

Okay, not really, bullshitting's a part of the job description, but at least if she gets caught here, less risk of quoting something wrong.

She’s no knight in shining armor, but she'll use his name easy enough.

Only this biologist chick seems to have cast herself as the rescuer, little room elsewise. Full of reassurances that it's okay. Don't beat yourself up over my inevitable death.

Stupid. Now, what can the Iris still do?

It should be a relief to give it up. It isn't.

Spitting out its replacement doesn't stop it pulsing in her ears, a cacophony of voices and tones: joking, relieved, apologetic.

None from the bright-eyed woman kneeling next to her in the back of this shitty truck. Too late now.

Pick Who ̶D̶i̶e̶s̶

Sana knew her crew. She thought she did. She thought she knew Arkady best of all. When the mercenaries said they’d let Arkady meet up with the Iris to deliver the ultimatum they had for Brian, that Arkady could pick one person to go with her and the other would be left behind as leverage, Sana had felt a sense of calm at the grim way Arkady and Violet’s eyes immediately met, nods exchanged. They were clever and resourceful. They’d get back to the others, figure something out. Sana wasn’t calm at all when she was the one shoved out of a shuttle with Arkady.

“Arkady!” Sana fought to make her voice heard over the sound of the shuttle taking off behind them. Arkady paid no attention, trudging forward through snow towards the lights of a city that looked to be a mile away. If it wasn’t the capital, their route back to the Iris would be even more circuitous. Sana pushed herself forward, landing a hand on Arkady’s shoulder that was immediately brushed off. Arkady snapped, “We need to keep moving. We’re easy pickings out here, and I don’t have a weapon.” “We can walk and talk,” said Sana, doing just that when Arkady grunted and carried on. “About what happened back there-you didn’t have to…” “What?” scoffed Arkady, only Sana could hear the underlying hitch in her voice. “Sana, are you honestly telling me I should’ve left you both back there? Stupid of them to let me go at all, once I get a gun-” “Kady,” interrupted Sana quietly. “Why?” Arkady’s shoulders sank. Her strides grew shorter. “Do we have to do this now?” “It does seem to be bothering you.” Sana slowed to match her pace, bumping Arkady’s shoulder with her own. “No shit,” retorted Arkady. She sighed. “She made it easier than it should’ve been, okay? Violet was pretty clear that if I didn’t pick you to leave, she’d be mad at me. Like, really mad.” “That doesn’t make any sense,” said Sana. “You know how you hate all that stuff about calculating lives against each other, trying to reduce individual people to cost-benefit equations or whatever?” Arkady’s mouth twitched. Sana nodded. Arkady looked half-defeated, half-proud. “Violet doesn’t feel the same way.” “What do you mean?” An uneasy feeling settled in Sana’s throat. “Violet thinks that in light of current circumstances,” said Arkady, her tone implying a direct quote to follow, “the crew needs a captain more immediately than it does a medic.” Sana opened her mouth. “I…” “Yeah, I’m not happy with her either. Figure that can wait for when she’s not held captive by a bunch of mercs. How the hell did Brian piss off these guys?” Arkady started listing possibilities, and Sana knew she was done discussing Violet for now. A memory came to her mind, of the small smile with which Violet had accepted the crew jacket Sana had finally gotten around to making. Somehow, the moment felt tainted.

#ficlets #tscosi #tscosi ficlets #other violet liu #arkady and brian #violet and arkady #arkady patel #arkady and sana

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imagine-bleach · 4 years

Note

can you do a an espada sugar daddy post like you did for the captains

I sure can

Starrk

Starrk is honestly very forgetful when it comes to being a sugar daddy. He will FORGET to give you your monthly allowance, so be prepared to call this man 100x because he forgot to give you money for the month.

Starrk is more into vacations than just giving his partner spending money, he is going to take you around the world.

He will also adapt to your taste, for example, if you don’t like expensive items and more of a band tshirt, little gift cards on special occasions kinda person, he will be fine with that. Although you do have to explain to him buying you 10 amazon cards with 100 dollars on each of them is still expensive.

Baraggan

This relationship between you and Baraggan is mostly for companionship, he isn’t looking for a sex partner and he isn’t going to force sex on you either, he just wants someone to be around him.

Baraggan is going to have you flaunting baby. Red-bottoms, Birkin bags, baby whatever you want he is going to give it to you.

Diamonds will be your best friend after being Baraggan sugar baby, he is going to have you decked out in the prettiest, heaviest jewelry in the world. He likes the way those earrings shine on you.

Baraggan will have you looking and feeling lavish but there is also rules. For example, you can never skip date night with him, and whatever he tells you to wear, you have to wear it. Dates are very important to you and if you skip just one of them, Baraggan is taking all the stuff he brought you back. (very dramatic)

Ulquiorra

Ulquiorra is a very private man, and he wants to keep it this way, so you better keep your mouth shut about this relationship, he does not like people being in his business. He might even go so far as to make you sign a NDA.

Ulquiorra is going to give you super expensive gifts, when it comes to his sugar baby he is not as stingy as you think he is. He will buy you 2 houses if he really wanted too.

He will pay off all your loans. Credit card, school, car, house, he will pay them off. Such a sweet bat baby

He is not a very sexual person so he does not expect you to have sex with him, he is more into the companionship than.

Nnoitra

Being Nnoitra sugar baby means you have to has sex with him. He wants companionship no doubt, and he is willingly to spoil you but he also wants to have sex with you as well.

Get ready for him to ask why you need this or that and how much do you really want it. He is a devious piece of shit and he wants you to beg for it. However, he hates when you fall on hard times, you cant pay for your tuition this semester? Well he is going to pay for it. Running behind on your car payments, he is going to pay them all off.

If you are being a greedy little brat, Nnoitra will drop you without a second thought.

Grimmjow

Grimmjow can be a nice sugar daddy when he feels like it, but let’s be honest this is Grimmjow we are talking about, when is he actually going to be nice and fair? Just like Nnoitra he wants you to damn near beg for him to spoil you, but trust and believe, when Grimmjow spoils you, he is dropping big bags on you.

He wants his sugar baby to look good all the time, he wants them in tight and semi-revealing clothing, 6 inch heels, hair and nails done, brands of perfume that you can’t even say. However, with all this he will always remind you that you should never get cocky.

To him, this is more than just you being his sugar baby, but he will never admit that to you. Grimmjow is possessive and you are his, and his only, so if you even think about having a side piece, their will be hell to pay.

Zommari

He is kinda old fashion. He will pick you up in his car, have flowers and a necklace he hand picked out for you on dates. You can also never skip date night because he will stop speaking to you.

He is probably the type to turn his sugar baby into his wife/husband, and the ring will be worth more than your entire life.

Szayelaporro

Szayel is going to show you all the finer things of life, 5 stars restaurants, flights in his private jets, dinner in beaches, vacations in Paris, dancing all night until your feet hurt.. You will be living it up with Szayel.

He also wants to have sex with you, but he will not rush you at first. He will be patient for awhile ( give it a year), but after that he is expecting something in return.

He is very controlling on what types of clothes he wants you to wear, so you never shop by yourself, he is literally picking out your outfits and making sure they look good on you.

Aaroniero

He is the type of sugar daddy that is getting more out of the relationship that you are. He likes that you are around him, the pretty sugar baby around his arm, he loves showing you off and having you around.

But it may not be like this in the beginning, he will try to hide you at first, and making sure you don’t tell a soul about this arrangement but after awhile he will stop caring and happily flaunt you.

He loves going shopping with you, the way you eagerly try on everything with a smile on your face, and asking which necklaces looks better on you.

Yammy

You never met someone so stubborn with their money until Yammy, you will start to think why the hell does he even wanna be a sugar daddy.

Baby, you are going to gain so much weight as Yammy as your sugar daddy, and he isn’t even doing it on purpose, it just that he likes taking you out for dinners, and letting you try food that you have never even heard before. don’t worry the weight gain doesn’t bother him either.

He hates shopping so much, so he will just give you money and tell you to go wild.

#being locked in the house has made me write again #and play animal crossing #and do homework #coyote starrk #Baraggan Louisenbairn #ulquiorra cifer #Nnoitra Gilga #Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez #Zommari Rureaux #Szayelporro Granz #Aaroniero Arruruerie #Yammy Llargo #why does baraggan have any gifs in his human form

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toothpastecanyon · 4 years

Text

Mizar the Mediocre, Chapter 3

Alcor gets a summons from a strange Mizar. Maybe there's still something to recognise, here.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

Mini golf turned out to be surprisingly fun. The three of them spent a couple hours knocking balls down courses and through neon clown heads. Mart turned out to be pretty good at it after all; he’d line up a shot, shoot a wink at his daughter, and putt right into the hole almost every time. Apart from the course where Ashley bet him he couldn’t shoot a ball over the windmill and stood around snickering when it came back down and hit him in the face, he had a great game.

“Looks like I won, Dipper Pines.” Martin waved the score card in his face. “How’s about that fifty dollars, huh?”

Dipper distinctly remembered not taking that bet, but he handed it over nonetheless and took the gloating ride back to the apartment as a form of payment. It was nearly sunset, now; he sat back in his seat, and stared up at the silhouetting skyscrapers as Mart’s words washed over him.

This had been a good day, he thought. A good day with a fun Mizar… why hadn’t he visited this one sooner? Ah, well. As a Mizar like him would probably say, there’s no time like the-

“Stop! Stop!”

Brakes squealed and Dipper was nearly thrown into the legroom. The next thing he could hear was Ashley’s voice.

“What the hell, Dad! You nearly T-boned that guy!”

“Yeah, sorry, sorry!” Mart turned around in his seat. “Is everyone okay? You okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah, no thanks to you! Pay attention to the fucking road, Dad!”

“You’re right. Sorry.” Mart tried to reach a hand out, but drew it back when she glared at him. “Sorry. I was just, I was, I was talking about mini golf, and it was really fun, and we were havin’ a good time… I-I’ll just drive. Keep my eyes straight ahead, right? Where they’re supposed to be, right? Heh…”

No one laughed at that. Dipper sat back as they started moving again, and put his seatbelt on.

As the night set in, the city came alive. Bright lights shone out from every headlight, every storefront, every towering casino with spotlights shooting up to the heavens. Neon was everywhere he looked: neon red flashing arrows, neon yellow strobing signs, neon brands sticking out of every neon neon-soaked building they passed neonically screaming for his attention.

Under their glaring light, the little people passing one another on the street were rendered faceless. The sky, rendered starless. Mart pulled up to the casino, and the great big neon sign above the entrance bathed their car in blood red before plunging them into shadow. On the other side, Mart peered out at the parking lot towards the back of the building.

“Ugh,” he said, and let out a nervous chuckle. “I always forget how dark their, uh, parking is. Guess this is why they want you to let a valet do it.”

Ashley groaned. “Why don’t you ask, then? I thought they were free here.”

“No, that’s the other casino I go to - the, uh, Florencian. They’re not as nice about that here… but hey, as long as they comp my room, they’re pretty nice in my book!” He started grumbling as he turned the wheel. “But a whole sixty dollars just to drive my car into a parking space… nobody told me it wasn’t free here, I would’ve done it myself.”

The car cruised right into the centre of one white line, and Mart turned off the car with a grin.

“See? I’m a great driver! Don’t even need a valet, sweetie - just need these!”

He wiggled his hands, and Ashley stared at him for a second. Without a word, she opened the door and got out of the car.

“Oh, uh… Wait for me! No, really, the parking lot gets kinda sketchy sometimes Ashley, I’d really rather you…?” He watched her disappear behind the bend. “O-okay, I’m coming! I’ll catch up to you!”

Mart left his car and half-jogged after his daughter, leaving Dipper to follow along. He followed them through a lobby still filled with chattering guests and tired clerks, and turned his head to see the casino on their way to the elevator. It was down a few steps and through an archway. Judging by the number of voices emanating from down there, there were a fair number of souls within it.

Dipper couldn’t see them, though. All he could make out was the flashing of slot machines before they passed it by. There was a pat on his shoulder.

“Looking at the real fun, are you?” Mart cracked a grin. “I might go down there tonight. You can come too, if you want!”

Dipper frowned at him, which only made him chuckle.

“What? Aw, c’mon! It’s what you do in Vegas! I won five hundred dollars on the slots once, first try!”

Ashley said something, but it was drowned out in the chatter.

“What was that, sweetie?”

“I said, then you lost it, Dad.” They got into the elevator, and the doors closed shut. “So you didn’t really win anything.”

“Aww, yeah, that happens. Part of the fun, y’know? You win some, you lose so-”

“Mom said you lost two thousand dollars.”

Dipper could hear a pin drop in the silence that stretched between them. The elevator moved up. Music played. Mart shot a glance down at her, and then forced out a laugh.

“That was, uh… she told you that?”

“Not on purpose, if that’s what you’re trying to insinuate.” Ashley glared down at her phone. “It was a loud argument. Maybe because you lost two thousand dollars of her money. All part of the fun, though, isn’t it?”

Dipper glanced sharply at Mart, who wasn’t meeting his eyes. The doors opened, and Mart made a show of ushering everyone through.

“Heh, after you, sweetie!”

She stormed past him without a word.

“Alright, haha… after you, Dipper!”

Dipper didn’t know what to say, so he just stepped off and started following Ashley to their room. Mart slung an arm around him.

“Well, uh, mini golf! That was fun, huh?”

They rounded a corner.

“Yeah, it was pretty fun-”

“And you’re really not down for going down to the casino, huh?”

Dipper raised an eyebrow. “No? You’re still going?”

“Just for a little bit, don’t worry. You can hang out with Ashley - you two’ll have so much fun!”

“You’re asking a demon to babysit your daughter.”

“Babysit? Hah!” Mart clapped his shoulder. “No, she’s a smart girl, she doesn’t need a babysitter. You two can keep each other company, though! Put on some movies, play some games, do whatever you like!”

Dipper smiled a bit at that, but he couldn’t stop looking at Ashley as they followed her down the corridor. “What about, uh, that stuff Ashley said? About you losing two thousand-”

“Oh, there’s our room!” Mart said loudly, then made a show of fumbling in his pockets. “Ashley, sweetie, you got my keys, don’t you? Why don’t you just go inside?”

She stared at him for a second.

“Go on! You wanna order room service? I know it’s about your dinner time - go look at the menu!”

No reply. After another moment of uncomfortable silence, she unlocked the door, swung it open, and slammed it behind her. Mart flinched a bit at that, but turned back to Dipper with a wide, wide smile. He put another hand on Dipper’s shoulder.

“Buddy…” he started. “So, uh, alright, you’re good here?”

“What? No, I asked you about-”

“The money thing. Look, that was a mistake, that was years ago. I’m sorry if it got kind of awkward in the elevator, but there’s nothing to worry about, seriously.”

Dipper peered at Mart’s aura. Something in his omniscience was needling him.

“So we good?”

“That was…” Dipper frowned. “That wasn’t years ago. It happened nine months ago.”

“Jeez, it isn’t even a year yet?” He watched Dipper’s frown deepen. “No, I wasn’t trying to lie or anything, I just - huh! It feels like it was longer.” He started scratching his beard. “Well, I guess the divorce was in August. Then I was… y’know, sleeping in cars, doing odd jobs… I guess that really makes you lose track of time, you know what I mean?”

Dipper shifted uncomfortably. “No, uh, not really. I’m… sorry to hear about-”

“Yeah. You know, the casinos are super nice - if you do a bit of gambling, they’ll sometimes just give you a room for free! It’s crazy!” He chuckled, and put his hands in his pockets. “That’s really the only reason I go anymore; y’know, I save up those offers for weekends with Ashley. Just so we’ll have somewhere nice to stay, you know? So it’s really all for her.”

“Oh… I guess that doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Nah, it’s not bad. See, you get me.” Mart pulled him into a squeezing hug. “You’re the best buddy ever, Dipper Pines.”

At that, he snorted. “You’ve only known me for a few hours.”

“...Well, I suppose I have. Huh. I guess I just have no sense of time today, heh.” He pulled back, his grin softening into something more wistful. “I guess you just - you give off these sorta old friend vibes, you know what I mean? It really does feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Dipper stared down at that gentle smile, those twinkling eyes, that wonderful soul nestled within him… and he found himself smiling right back.

“I know what you mean,” he said, and Mart pulled him into another hug. Through all the things that were different, through the beard scratching against his suit and the funky smell of that leopard print dressing gown… this felt so achingly familiar. He missed this.

Dipper wanted to hold on longer, but it was only a short hug. Then Mart pulled back, gave him one last grin, then shot off finger guns as he backed away down the corridor.

“Right, buddy, we’ll hang out later! Have a nice time while I, uh… figure out which way the elevator is! Man, walking backwards is hard!”

“It’s on your right.”

“My right or your right- ohh, you said my right! You’re way ahead of me! Alright, to the casinoooo!”

He chuckled as Mart backed into a wall and awkwardly shuffled out of sight. Yep, that man was definitely a Mizar.

…

What was he doing again? Oh, yeah, watching Ashley!

The door was locked when he tried it, so he checked for cameras before phasing through. Mart’s suite was darker now than when they left it; most of the light came from the glow of the city from the far window, and from the glare of a phone screen off Ashley’s face as she sat on her bed. She frowned when he flipped a switch.

Dipper waved. Ashley didn’t respond. He cleared his throat. She didn’t look up.

“Uh… hey,” Dipper started. “So your Dad’s, uh, gonna be gone for a bit tonight…”

He paused there, but she didn’t have anything to say to that.

“...so it looks like it’s just you and me! You want to do anything? Put on a movie? Play board games?”

She reached into her pocket, and brought out a pair of earbuds.

“I’ve got any game in the world if you wanted… wanted to… oh, you’re, uh, putting those in.” Dipper watched her stick them in her ears without casting him so much as a glance. “Want to be left alone? That’s okay too! I’ll… do my own thing, I guess.”

He stood in the doorway for a moment, twitching his wings as he looked around the room for something to do. His eyes fell upon the TV mounted to the wall; he floated over.

“Hey, where’s the…” he started, but trailed off. To his surprise, Ashley pointed to the remote sitting on the end of the second bed. “Oh… oh! Thanks.”

“Not much on this late,” she said. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Oh. Any requests?”

“I just told you there’s not much on.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry…” Dipper shied away to the ceiling. “I’ll just see what’s on.”

He turned on the TV, and was instantly greeted by one of those strange commercials that only played after nine. He assumed it was advertising some kind of car, but all the women in bikinis made him roll his eyes and change the channel. It switched onto a medicine advert, and then a food advert, and then it dropped him right in the middle of an intense fight scene where a man got knifed across the cheek and put an hand over the blood and yelled out, “You fucking bi-”

Dipper gasped and scrambled to shut it off. He was met with a loud snort; Ashley was snickering into her chest, and he gave a nervous smile.

“Yeah, that was, uh, funny.” He discreetly floated the remote back to its position on the bed. “I guess it’s too late for Magical Mizar to be on, huh?”

She just kept snickering away, and he felt his cheeks redden a little. How long was Mart gonna be gone for, again? He cast his mind down the stairs and found him gushing about Ashley to a poker table; it seemed like he was having a good time.

Maybe he should find something else to do.

Dipper summoned a little flame, flicking it between his fingers as he thought. Just to the left of him was the window, and the city that shone out from it. It was impossible to ignore he was in Vegas; the whole room seemed to lead his eye out to the Strip, forced him to focus on the beautiful lights and the beautiful lights only. And there was beauty, in the beautiful lights. There was a luxury, an excitement lent to being here, a rush to seeing all those blinding lights laid out beneath his feet. It was like he was on top of the world… and all else was black. All else was hidden. The lights were beautiful.

Someone said something.

…

“Alcor?”

“Huh?” He looked up at the name, then over at Ashley, who was still looking at her phone. “Oh, do you need something?”

“No. I said, you don’t need to babysit me if you’re bored.”

“Oh, I’m not bored, don’t worry!”

“You’re just staring out of a window, dude.” She tapped her screen. “I’m not a little kid, you can leave if you want.”

“No, it’s okay, you shouldn’t be on your own the whole night. Mart wanted me to stay here until he gets back.”

Ashley finally looked up at him. She raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“He did not say that.”

Dipper frowned. “Well, he didn’t say that explicitly, but I’m sure that’s what he meant.”

“Oh, really.”

“Yeah! So don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

To that, she rolled her eyes and looked back down at her phone. That seemed to be the end of the conversation, but then she paused, made a face, and looked back up at him.

“Is it like a demon thing?”

Dipper blinked. “Is what a demon thing?”

“Did my dad, like, make a deal so you gotta stay here, or-”

“No, no, no! We didn’t make a deal or anything-”

“Then why are you here?”

“What do you mean?”

Ashley made a face. “I mean, I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but, uh, you’re a demon, right?”

“I am.” He twitched his wings, and sighed. “Yeah, I get what you’re asking. I know it probably seems a little… weird, that I hung out with you guys all day without a deal.”

She didn’t say anything to that. He continued.

“It’s just… you know, it was fun! With Mart, it was fun!”

“Okay?” Ashley snorted. “I didn’t know Alcor the Dreambender liked mini golf that much.”

“Heh, I mean, I didn’t mind what we were doing.” He gave a little smile. “It was nice to catch up with Mart, though.”

“Catch up?”

“Huh?”

Ashley sat up. “‘Catch up’ with Mart? Do you know my dad, or something?”

He froze. Oh. This might be a little difficult to explain.

“Have you guys met before?”

“Uh… no? I mean kind of, but I haven’t met your dad before, like your dad the person! I, uh…” He watched Ashley’s face as it morphed into a confused frown. “I know… I know his soul.”

“His soul?”

“Yeah! He’s, uh… Mizar.”

Silence. For a moment, Ashley just stared. She looked he’d told her Mart came from outer space. Her jaw had actually dropped, and her eyes were bugged out. He cringed.

“Yeah, uh, I know that’s kind of… kind of a lot to take in, but-”

“My dad’s Mizar?!”

“Yeah-”

And Ashley laughed. She collapsed on the bed, laughing until tears were in her eyes, and Dipper raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

She didn’t respond immediately. He crossed his arms, and found himself wrapping his wings around his sides. Finally, her howling turned into a lighter chuckle.

“Sorry,” Ashley started, wiping her eyes. “You just - that’s got to be a joke. That’s amazing.”

“What do you mean? Mart is a Mizar, he’s-” Dipper paused when she let out another wheeze. “Why’s that so funny?”

“He - he can’t be Mizar, oh my stars.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s-! Well, Mizars are like, legends, you know! Like Mabel Pines, I learned about her in school!” Ashley cackled at the thought. “Oh my stars, you’re telling me my dad is Mabel Pines.”

“Well, no, he’s not Mabel Pines-”

“Gee, I hadn’t noticed.”

“But he is a Mizar! Look,” Dipper struggled to explain. “He’s… it’s just… Mizar is just a specific soul, I’m just saying he has her soul-”

“Oh my stars, Magical Mizar!” Ashley wiped the tears from her eyes. “I am never going to watch that show the same way again.”

“Heh, yeah…” He made a face. “Yeah, I know this might be a bit weird. Maybe Mart doesn’t… exactly fit how people think of most Mizars-”

“Understatement of the century.” She saw him open his mouth and cut in: “L-look, look, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, I know Mizar is, like, part of your demon business… but it’s kinda weird that you’re saying my dad is part of your demon business. I mean I’m trying to think of him, like, busting cults…” she started cracking up. “I-in his dumb, smelly old dressing gown… a-and his crocs, hahaha!”

“Heh, yeah. That is pretty funny, but, uh… yeah.” He looked away, out of the window. “Mart’s… a special person to me.”

Below Dipper’s feet, a million lights twinkled like stars in the sky. A smile graced his face.

“He’s always been special,” he said, quietly. “Every time I meet her, she’s always special, in some way. Always finds some way to surprise me, you know?”

“...uh, sure?” A pause. “Alcor?”

After a moment, he tore his eyes away from the lights. They took a moment to adjust and focus back on Ashley. “Yes?”

She was giving him an odd look. She opened her mouth, took a breath… then closed it. Offered only a shrug.

“Nevermind,” she said, and reached over to the phone on the bedside table. “I’m gonna order dinner.”

“Okay.” Dipper watched her pick up a plastic menu. “Let me know if you need anything.”

She grunted in response to that. After a moment of silence, his eyes drifted down. They settled on the baseboard for a moment, then followed the line it made to the left, to the window, then outside.

Outside, where a million beautiful stars twinkled like the shine in Mizar’s eyes. He smiled, wistfully, then sat back in the air, and took in the view.

This sky was full of surprises.

#transcendence au #dipper #Martin #ashley #mizar

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whumphoarder · 5 years

Text

Living the High Life

Summary: Peter gets a nosebleed while on Tony’s private jet. Chaos abounds.

Word count: 1,751

Genre: Fluff, humor, whump

A/N: Thanks to @awesomesockes for the idea, and to @xxx-cat-xxx & @sallyidss for beta reading!

Link to read on Ao3

The plane jostles slightly, causing the seatbelt light to flash overhead. Glancing sideways, Tony sees Peter’s eyes widen as the kid grips the armrests of his seat nervously.

“Hey, chill out, alright?” Tony says with a chuckle. “I don’t really want your handprints embedded in my two hundred million dollar jet.”

Peter gapes at him, his nervous expression being replaced by one of disbelief. “Wait, wait, two hundred million?” He releases the armrests and grabs his open bottle of coke from the cupholder so he can quickly screw the cap back on. “And you were letting me drink soda on it?!” he demands, horrified.

Tony smirks; he always gets a kick out of seeing the kid experience for the first time the same luxuries that Tony himself has been taking for granted since childhood. Private jets are no exception.

The two of them are currently flying out to California for the weekend to visit Tony’s recently rebuilt Malibu mansion, as well as to get Peter campus tours of UCLA and CalTech (two of the schools he’s considering applying to during his junior year). Tony’s excited to see the kid’s response to everything from their upcoming hotel accommodations to actual palm trees.

The plane hits a few more bumps of turbulence. His face draining of color, Peter squeezes his eyes shut tightly and leans back in his seat with a tiny moan.

“Wait a minute…” Tony raises an eyebrow, giving Peter an amused look. “Are you telling me that Spider-Man—a guy who swings from literal skyscrapers through the streets of New York on the daily—is scared of heights?”

“Not heights,” Peter grits out, his teeth clenched a bit. “Just flying. Like, in a plane.”

“Flying?” Tony frowns. “But you flew to Germany with no problem.” Or, at least none that he recalls Happy reporting to him. Though, to be fair, they were all a bit distracted that week.

Peter opens his eyes and shrugs. “Well, that time I was kinda more focused on the fact that Tony Stark pulled me out of school for three days so I could steal Captain America’s shield, so…” he trails off as they hit another bump and gulps. “Just, you know, Parkers and airplanes have kind of a history...”

Suddenly, it clicks. An instant wave of guilt washes over Tony. Of course the kid would have issues with flying after having his parents die in a plane crash when he was only four years old. Hell, Tony was twenty-one when his own parents were killed and he still prefers to drive himself rather than relinquish control of his vehicles to a chauffeur (with the notable exception of Happy).

Tony softens his tone before speaking again. “It’s just a little air pocket,” he reassures. “We’ll be through it soon. And worst case scenario, I’ve got suits on board.”

Peter nods tightly a few times. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll be fine.”

Figuring a distraction is in order, Tony starts recounting a particularly memorable MIT party back in the day during which Rhodey got so wasted he danced on the ping pong table to “Heat of the Moment” until it collapsed under him. By the time he’s done, the kid’s nervousness seems to have dissipated and he’s giggling along, the plane ride all but forgotten.

Once they’re through the turbulence, the flight attendant brings out their lunches and Tony once again has to grin at the kid’s awe.

“Honestly, I would have been happy with like, McDonald’s,” Peter babbles, sawing away at his filet mignon piece with a knife and fork, “but this definitely beats that.” He pauses, frowning. “Unless it’s McRib season. McRibs are the bomb, Mr. Stark.”

Tony pulls a face. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

Peter giggles. Then the plane begins shaking again—a bit harder this time—and the giggles fade, replaced by breaths which are a little too carefully measured to be natural.

Alright, back to story time. “Hey kid,” Tony begins, “have I ever told you about the time Happy fell backwards into the compound’s swimming pool?”

“Uh, don’t think so…” Peter says, gazing nervously out the window.

Tony launches right in. “So, Happy was doing his laundry, like he does every Sunday afternoon. I swear, the guy separates every single color until he’s got like, seven loads. Total fanatic about it. Now, you gotta understand DUM-E had been malfunctioning for the past few days, and so—”

“Oh no…” Peter breathes out suddenly. The kid turns back away from the window, his hand clamped over his mouth and nose and an urgent expression on his face. “Oh no, not here, not here...” he mutters, his words muffled by his palm as his eyes dart around the plane.

Figuring he has a pretty good idea of what’s about to occur, Tony immediately bends down to grab a paper airsickness bag from under the seat, but Peter has already unbuckled his seatbelt and is scrambling up from his chair, his hand still clamped over his face.

“No, Peter, you can’t—” Tony calls after him, pointing to the still illuminated seatbelt sign, but the kid is already racing toward the lavatory. Tony quickly unclips his own seatbelt and jumps up to hurry after him. He’s halfway down the aisle before the plane hits another patch of turbulence that causes Tony to stagger into one of the other seats.

From inside the lavatory, he hears a crash followed by a sharp “oof!” Tony winces. Maybe he shouldn’t have insisted the bathrooms on his plane be designed four times as large as the cramped ones on commercial aircrafts—it leaves enough room to actually fall down.

“Peter?” he calls worriedly, knocking on the closed door. “You alright?

“Don’t come in!” Peter’s voice yelps. “I’m fine! I got it handled!”

Tony’s worry deepens. “Kid, you really can’t be out of your seat right now. If you’re getting sick—”

“I’m not!” Peter says quickly. “Really, it’s okay. Uh, I just…” His voice trails off, and then, barely audible, Tony hears him mutter, “Oh god it’s everywhere...”

The plane shakes again and Tony stumbles, pressing a hand to the lavatory door to keep himself upright. But Peter must not have locked it because the door pushes open and Tony half-falls into the bathroom, catching himself one-handedly on the corner of the sink. His hand lands in a few drops of something red and wet.

“What the…?” Tony turns away from the sink, taking in the horrific sight. Blood drops seem to be covering every flat surface of the bathroom—the countertop, the floor, the sink. Peter is sitting on the floor beside the toilet, his light gray t-shirt and blue jeans now stained with crimson splotches as he frantically tears off more pieces of toilet paper to add to the growing bloody wad of tissue he’s pressing to his face. Tony blinks at him. “Are you hurt?”

Peter shakes his head. His voice is nasally when he speaks. “I’m really really sorry.”

Tony blinks again. “This is all from your nose?”

Peter nods, looking absolutely miserable. “I, uh, kinda get bad nosebleeds sometimes? Like usually if it’s too dry, or if I get stressed, or… I dunno, I guess if my nose just feels like it?”

“Well that’s... inconvenient,” Tony remarks.

The plane jostles and Peter braces his free hand against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. “Is it supposed to be doing that?” he groans.

“It’s just turbulence,” Tony assures. “I’ve flown through a hell of a lot worse, I promise. There was this thunderstorm once when I was flying over Portugal when a bolt of lightning actually—” He’s cut off by a pained whine from the kid. Tony clears his throat. “...But, that’s probably a story for another day.” He makes a vague gesture in front of his own nose. “Is it stopping?”

Peter pulls the tissues back to check. Immediately, a fresh wave of blood runs down from his nostrils, causing Tony to wince though the kid seems unfazed. “It’s slowing down,” he says with a shrug.

Tony huffs out a short laugh. “That’s kind of concerning, but we’ll suspend that for the moment.” Stepping further into the bathroom, Tony moves over to the cabinet to locate a stack of plush white towels. He holds one out to the kid, who throws him a horrified look in return.

“I’ll just get blood all over it,” Peter says worriedly. “Those look really expensive.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s a towel. It can’t be more than, what? Forty? Fifty bucks?”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, that’s even worse! I was thinking like ten!”

With a deep sigh, Tony chucks the towel directly at the kid’s face. Peter shoots up his free hand to catch it on reflex, leaving bloody fingerprints on the pristine material. He makes a little distressed moan upon realizing. “Mr. Stark…” he whines.

“You’re welcome,” Tony says with a huff. “Now let’s get you back to your seat. Safety first and all that jazz.” As if to emphasize his words, the plane promptly hits another rough patch.

Peter shakes his head, teeth clenched through the jostling. “Can’t. I’m covered in blood. I’ll ruin your two hundred million dollar jet,” he grits out.

“You’re not gonna ruin the jet,” Tony points out. He pauses for a beat. “Just the jet’s upholstery.”

Peter only moans miserably.

Tony sighs. “Alright, we’ll figure something out.”

“Whoa, does this seat go all the way flat?!”

Tony chuckles as he adjusts the controls on Peter’s seat to recline it backwards. “Yeah, wonders never cease, kid,” he remarks.

Peter—now wrapped completely in the unrolled emergency parachute from the plane’s cargo area like some kind of nylon burrito—is finally strapped into his chair again. The bleeding has nearly stopped now, though he’s still pinching his nose with tissues to be sure.

Tony pulls a single use ice pack out of the plane’s first aid kit. He squeezes the packet and shakes it to activate the chemicals inside before passing it to Peter. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Peter says. He presses it to the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “And I’m really sorry about all the mess…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Tony waves his hand dismissively. “But you are definitely going to need a shower when we land before you even think about trying out the mansion’s rooftop swimming pool.”

Peter’s eyes widen yet again. “Your what?!”

Tony chuckles. This never gets old.

If you liked this story, you might like:

Arachnids & Phobias

Grand Entrance

Them’s the Breaks

Link to all my fics

#peter parker whump #spider-man fic #iron dad and spider son #irondad fic #mcu writing #poor peter parker #nosebleed #airplanes #my fic

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stonerbughead · 4 years

Text

Maria watches friday night lights (#32)

5x09 ahhh my heart is singing for Chicago!Matt already

recap/flailing under the cut:

Ah it makes sense that East Dillon fell apart and ruined their undefeated record after the way that last episode went!

“Really??” As Jess and the maintenance workers are still cleaning up they turn off the lights??? No respect!

Ahhh they’re showing Luke and Vince arguing in the locker room interspersed with the actual game? This show is magic.

Eric found them arguing and kicked them out the field house lol

“That wasn’t a team out there, folks, it was a bunch of individuals trying...” fitting last radio sound byte before Eric throws the radio in the trash lol

OMG MATTS CHICAGO APT IS SO CUTE AND ADULT AND GROWN UP. He’s folding a blanket??? Fuck me up

She stayed all weekend and doesn’t want to leave?! Ok ok I see y’all but that does seem a little irresponsible, Julie.

Is Matt wearing a live strong bracelet? Lol sign of the times

“Look, we all know the problem: it’s Vince, he’s lost his team.” Ooooh good line to go into the theme song on!

“I suck at Texas history.” IS THAT AN ACTUAL CLASS IN TEXAS???? STOP IT. Stop it right now!!! This cannot be real!

“Baby boy is graduating, it’s the last time they’ll see me in the little lions uniform.” LOL Becky and Luke are cute

Ew it sucks that Luke can’t invite Becky out after this last home game with his parents but also who would want to go to dinner with his trash mom sooo I’m conflicted.

Eric wants Luke on QB today?! well then

Oh god Mindy feels like she’s gonna puke?? Oh no is she pregnant again??

“I could take your shift.” Oh Beckyyyy and Mindy is like, no no no lol

I cringe every time Vince’s dad talks to him about football. His mom seems to be cringing too in the corner...

Becky looks really cute waiting tables but yeeeesh she’s a teenage girl and a fully grown man is putting a dollar in her undies. Yikes! Although once she counted that $$$ she was like I AM WOMAN I AM POWER lol

Eric and Tami’s little walk and talks in school are so precious

Awww Becky used her tip money to get Luke a gift to wear to his dinner? “You know I get it because she kinda freaks me out too but you didn’t do anything about it.” Yeah that about sums it up.

Wtf Vince is turning on Jess now too?? She’s appropriately angry! “Yeah cause it’s never Vince’s fault huh? I can’t believe you! You’re really trying to blame me for coach being mad at you?” Ooooh she said it.

OH SHIT did Jess just dump Vince’s ass?

Aw Epyck being good with Gracie is so cute.

Julie and Matt look hot and very natural walking down the street together in Chicago. Aw and she feels like she fits here but didn’t at college. Be a city gal, join us!!! Lol

“It’s frustrating bc I miss you and I miss us, and tonight watching you with all these people it’s like you’ve moved on and it’s sucks.” Awww Julie and then Matt immediately kissed her to shut her up! “I’ve been waiting to do that ever since you showed up.” This is SUCH a romantic ass city kiss!

Honestly out of all the characters Matt and Julie are the ones I can see being city folks the most so that tracks for me.

Jess helping Luke with the plays instead of Vince, she’s such a good one.

Omg Matt and Julie are so cute in bed together, Matt again saying he missed her as he plays with her hair. 🥺

She’s gonna tell him about the TA thing right? Yep okay good honesty is important.

Awww Matt being so supportive and nonjudgmental! My heart! He’s such a good guy I’m dead 😭

“I hope this won’t freak you out, but I think you and I need to, um...we need to go get breakfast.” LOL I LOVE HIM HES SO CUTE god

Oh shit Eric’s benching Vince for not helping Luke! Man of his word, he does not play!

“The big deal is I’m an adult and you’re not.” Yeah Becky, Mindy’s argument seems pretty sound considering we’re talking about you, a teenage girl, working at a strip club. Just...wait till you’re an adult, gurl! You’re almost there!

Oh god Mindy’s irritable, is she preggers???

Anddd she does not seem happy about it....

Yeeesh Tami just slammed her head trying to break up this fight between Epyck and Laurel? Fuck

Yay I was right about Vince’s mom. “I think you maybe don’t have to take his advice all the time. You have a good head on your shoulders, use it, okay!” YES MAMA TELL HIM!!!

Omfg they’re gonna arrest Epyck for this even tho Tami is saying not to bc it was an accident??? Y’all really hate students of color with trauma, damn...the fact that Laurel thought it was okay to call Epyck a psycho in front of a lot of people too? School to prison pipeline in action, folks.

Aw Eric found Jess crying alone in the locker room 🥺 poor baby

We stan Eric. He told Jess not to apologize for crying and to “take all the time you need.” AWWWW

“I don’t wanna be your safety net.” Matt is right—Julie’s clearly avoiding stuff! “I wish you could stay longer, I wish you lived here but you...don’t live here.” He’s right! Gurl! Ugh being 18/19 is so hard!

Omg Billy’s excitement about Mindy being pregnant again is insane. He said “who cares?” about Mindy having to quit her job and she seems much more concerned than he does about the very real health care concerns.

“My boys can swim,” Billy says, putting THE PEE STICK IN HIS MOUTH?? I’m dead, Mindy just saying “I peed on that” and him removing it. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS BILLYYY

Ugh poor Epyck :( this system has failed her! And poor Tami tried so hard.

Ah, Eric is getting turned onto the idea of not coaching teens but adults instead—fair!

Omg Luke stopped by Eric’s after 10 to say he’s too scared to be quarterback?? Oh babe.

Awww Senior Day is here. Look at Luke’s trash mom!

“How much time do you need? You’re not milking a cow out there!!” Lol

Yeeeesh now everyone’s chanting “we want Vince.” Ugh imagine being Luke rn

Why is Vince’s dad literally mad? Luke is doing well lol

Yesss lions win!! You did it baby! They’re going to the playoffs!

Oh geez and now Vince has to stop his dad from storming the field and cursing Eric Taylor out! Jesus.

Aww Luke getting his little victory kiss from Becky and bringing her along. His mom is such an asshole, she’s literally gawking at Becky. Bless the dad for being like “why not?”

“He kissed her. Did you see that he kissed her?” Ew Luke’s mom how do you think she got pregnant the last time...?

Aww and off Julie goes, hopefully this time to stop avoiding her problems in that lil blue car? FUCK ME UPPP matt pulling a classic move yelling and running after her, “Julie!!!!!”

“It’s all gonna be okay, all right? We’ll figure it out.” As they’re in the street?? With the I love yous and a truck honking?? Are you kidding me? How romantic...and then she has to get back in the car and drive away oh my HEART the romantic angst!

The episode ending in Matt watching her car drive away from him!!!! Art!

#maria watches friday night lights #mine #matt x julie #friday night lights 5x09

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three-drink-amy · 5 years

Text

Sweet Creature

Claire and Jamie have been best friends since they met at university. When Claire decided to leave medical school to pursue her dreams, Jamie was the first to support her. Five years later, they’re still best friends. But two conflicts stand poised to hurt their friendship: Jamie’s stake in her business and Claire’s secret enduring love for him.��

Chapter One

The bell dinged, signaling the arrival of a late customer. Claire rolled her eyes, wishing more than anything that she could close the store and get home quickly. She plastered on a fake smile and walked out to greet the new guest. A sigh of relief echoed through the mostly empty room when she saw who it was.

“Oh thank god, it’s just you.”

“Just me?” Jamie teased. “I’m so flattered, Sassenach.”

Claire scoffed, walking past him to turn the “Open” sign to “Closed.” “You know what I mean. I was afraid it was the type of person who comes in two minutes before closing time and wants the world.”

“Jerks.”

Claire paused and watched Jamie for a moment. “Yes, in fact, they are.” She started walking back behind the counter and into the kitchen. “Come on. If you’re here, you might as well help me.”

Jamie shrugged. “Very well.” He rolled back the sleeves of his button down shirt and prepared himself to help Claire close down the bakery. She’d allowed most of the employees to leave a few minutes earlier. On days like that day, she liked to take the time to close things down on her own. It reminded her of how it was in the beginning.

It had been 5 years since she opened her bakery, Sassenach Sweets. The name had been inspired by Jamie’s nickname for her. Really, it was a way to thank him. She had been in the trenches of medical school and hating it. After many tearful conversations over pizza and beer, Jamie told Claire to pursue her dreams and do what she really wanted to do. And what she really wanted to do was bake. Knowing she could never own her own bakery, Claire gave up hope pretty quickly. But fate, and then Jamie, had other plans. He’d been on a spur of the moment trip with his brother-in-law to New York City when he bought a lottery ticket as a joke and then won. 3.5 million dollars had completely changed Jamie’s life. And then he changed Claire’s. He gave her the money she needed to start her own bakery, including funds for the store and equipment. Achieving her dreams had all come down to his generosity and support. It was something she never forgot.

Glasgow had apparently been the perfect place to open Sassenach Sweets. Within two years, Claire was opening a second store on the other side of town, due to high demand. There were many days she still couldn’t believe she’d actually followed her dreams, and more than that, that she’d succeeded.

“What brought you by?” Claire asked as she stood at the sink, washing pans.

“Eh, I was just thinking about ye,” Jamie replied vaguely.

Claire looked over at him as he scrubbed at a baking sheet. “Why?” She asked, her eyes narrowing.

A small smirk bloomed on Jamie’s face. “I ran into someone ye ken.”

“Oh god. Who?”

“Frank,” Jamie confessed.

“Where on earth would you run into Frank?” Claire wondered.

“Apparently, we go to the same barber.”

“Hmmm. I wonder how that never came up in all that time,” Claire mused.

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Tis no’ as though the man was ever fond of me. Ye may recall that he often avoided interactions with me.”

“To be fair, you did as well,” Claire reminded him.

“I at least tried. He was yer man and I wanted to give him a chance. He canna say the same,” Jamie defended.

“He was just crappy all around.”

Jamie looked over at Claire and watched her for a moment. “Ye ken ye never told me the true reason why ye left Frank.”

“What? Yes I have!”

“No, no’ really,” he insisted. “Ye said it just wasna working out. Tha’s no’ a real reason.”

Claire breathed out a sigh. “Frank had this great idea that he was going to manage the bakery for me so that I could focus on big picture stuff. But he never really seemed to care about me or what I wanted. It just always seemed like he wanted to be able to claim some of the success. And I wasn’t having that. I did this on my own. Well, aside from you.”

Jamie interrupted her. “Nah, ye did it on yer own.”

Claire smiled to herself. “Okay, well anyway, it was right around the time that I was working out the logistics of opening the second store and he wanted a piece of it. I didn’t really have the time for a relationship and I didn’t want to be with someone who only wanted me for my success. So I ended things.”

Jamie nodded. “Well, I still say, good for ye.”

Claire laughed. “Thanks, I suppose. It’s been quite a while now.”

“He still asked about ye,” Jamie informed her.

“Oh Lord. What did you say?”

“I was spending so much time trying to decide if I wanted to make up some story about ye finding some handsome, rich man or talk about yer massive success and in the time it took me to decide, he started talking about himself,” Jamie recalled.

Claire snorted. “Sounds about right.”

“Aye, I thought so as well. Ye were far too good for him, Sassenach.”

She looked over at him with a smile. “Thanks,” she said softly.

They worked in silence for a bit. Jamie assured her that he could handle washing dishes while she disassembled machines and put away the leftover pastries. Tomorrow they’d go to the homeless shelter a few blocks away. Day old pastries didn’t sell and Claire refused to waste them. Every morning on her way to work, she’d drop off the left overs from the day before.

Jamie was the first one to break the silence. “So did I tell ye about the new lass at work?”

Claire shook her head. “No. I believe the last one you mentioned was Laoghaire and that crashed and burned pretty quickly.”

“Oh, aye, and for a good reason,” Jamie remembered with a shiver. “Anyway, there’s this new lass at the office. She’s French.”

“Did St. Germain bring her on?”

“Aye, he did. Recruited her himself apparently,” Jamie confirmed.

“And the fact that your boss that you hate approves of her doesn’t deter you at all?” Claire asked with a raised brow.

“Perhaps it should. But she’s just...mesmerizing. She’s tall and blonde. She’s beautiful. I find myself staring out the door of my office just to see if she’ll walk by,” Jamie told her, a far-off look in his eyes.

“Well, she sounds special,” Claire replied with an almost flat expression. “What’s the girl’s name?”

Jamie smiled. “Annalise.”

Claire nodded to herself, focusing on the task at hand. “So how many days are you betting it’ll take before you get her to go out with you?”

Jamie shrugged. “I canna say. She’s been rebuffing me a bit. So I thought I’d call in a favor.”

“A favor, hmm?” Claire asked. She knew just where he was going with this.

“Ye ken how sometimes ye’ll prepare those wee baskets of yer treats and I take them into the office?” Claire nodded. “Well I was wondering if ye’d be able to do that for me. Soon, perhaps.”

Claire sighed. “Fine. But you have to promise that John will get at least one of them. He’d kill me if he didn’t.”

Jamie laughed, his head tilting back. “But of course!” He walked over to Claire and wrapped her in a hug. “Ye’re the best, Sassenach.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

He pulled back and looked at her. “I mean it. Ye’re a wonderful friend. And the best investment I ever made.”

A reluctant smile crossed Claire’s face. Even if it was silly, she always found it a bit endearing when Jamie referred to her as his investment. He was the only one who’d ever helped her with the bakery who’d never asked for something back. And it was the only way their friendship had prevailed. He gave her the money, ignoring her demands that he keep it, and told her to follow her dreams. She’d toss ideas back and forth with him as a way of keeping him in the loop as an investor. Each time, he’d simply say her vision was perfect.

The constant reminder of his part in helping her was what always got her to agree to his crazy ideas, like pastry baskets for his office. She didn’t mind and would never make him pay, but it wasn’t as though her time was endless.

It was two days later, after closing time that Joe keyed into the store to visit with Claire. She was laying croissant dough on a pan, ready to put them in the oven. “I thought it was after close. You don’t usually start this part this early.”

“I’m making a pastry basket for Jamie’s work,” she told him.

“Oh. I always love when you do that for me too,” Joe said with a smirk.

“You men. One at a time, please,” she laughed.

“No worries. It’s a hospital. People bring food in all the time,” Joe admitted.

Joe and Claire had met in their first year of medical school. They’d quickly become very good friends, bonding over being some of the only non-scots in their program. Joe had continued on and become a doctor after Claire had dropped out to open the bakery. Aside from some light teasing, Joe had been nothing but supportive of Claire’s choice to change paths. Joe and Jamie had carried her emotionally (and occasionally physically) through the process of starting her own business and making it grow. She often wondered where she’d be without the both of them. The little baskets were usually a thank you when they weren’t serving as shameless self promotion.

“So how was the hospital today?” Claire asked.

“Kinda boring, actually,” Joe admitted. “What about the bakery?”

“Well it’s an hour after close and I’m working on more food,” Claire stated, pointing to the pan in front of her. “It’s not a normal day.”

“Why are you doing this one?”

“Jamie asked for it. He needs to impress some girl at work apparently,” Claire said with a mild scoff.

Joe sat down on a bar stool across from her. “And how does that make you feel?”

Claire’s head snapped up to look at Joe. “Excuse me?” Joe simply raised one eyebrow, his gaze still trained on her. “Why would that make me feel any sort of way?”

“Perhaps because of your feelings.”

Claire burst out laughing. “I don’t have feelings for Jamie.”

Joe leaned forward on the prep table. “Lady Jane, come on. You told me you did!”

“That was in medical school which was a long time ago,” Claire reminded him. “Also, I was drunk. A lot has happened since then. Whatever feelings I was having for Jamie were shut down the minute he became an investor in my company. Business leaves no room for feelings.”

“Mmhmm. Sure.” Claire glared at her friend. “Look, all I’m saying is that I saw the way you used to look at him. And I see the way you look at him now. Not much has changed.”

Claire was silent as she placed the pan of pastries in the oven. She walked back over and looked at Joe. “You’re right in a way. Things haven’t changed all that much. Jamie still pursues women like they’re a dying commodity. And I’m still never one of them. So, you’re right in that way.”

Joe frowned, looking down at his hands. “You don’t have to do everything he asks you to do.”

“He’s my friend and I want to,” Claire insisted.

“Can you tell me the truth?” Joe pushed.

Claire sighed, leaning against the table to match Joe’s pose. “I fell for Jamie nearly the moment I met him. I hated being the silly girl in love with her best friend. It was such a cliche. But I couldn’t help it. You’ve met him. You know he’s sweet and has a charm about him. But when he gave me the money to start this, I was determined to shut it all down. Two things complicate friendships like nothing else: feelings and money. We already had the money complication. I wouldn’t be the one to push it a step further and admit my feelings. So I was determined to ignore them. Bury them. Date other people. Throw myself into work. And that’s what I’ve done.”

Joe watched her for a long moment. “And?”

Claire sighed, throwing herself down on a barstool, her head in her hands. “And it hasn’t made a bit of difference.”

She glanced up at Joe with a helpless look on her face.

“I’m still in love with him.”

Next chapter

#outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #my writing #sweet creature

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bladekindeyewear · 4 years

Text

Bloggin’ bout HS^2 Commentary from start to Mid-Jan-2020

Sigh. Time to pay the piper. Someone’s gotta extract whatever plot-important and plothole mentions get mentioned in this commentary, even though reading behind-the-scenes stuff about Homestuck makes me even more nervous than reading frontend stuff ever could so I don’t really want to. FYI, that’s what you’re going to get out of my posts on these -- anything regarding plot stuff and plotholes, things we would’ve misinterpreted or missed otherwise, not any of the other paid content such as sketches or full quotes from them about things.

TWENTY FUCKING DOLLARS A MONTH!???!?? Is Andrew even seeing any of this cash? --no, not much of it I guess, he would want to make sure the WP folks get paid enough after the--

Yeah I’m not gonna even think about that.

Fuck it. I’m ponying up.

Alright, first commentary post on the Patreon, commentary and bonus sketches for Ghostflusters... whoa, this is long and extensive. Is it going panel by panel??

I guess I’ll give you a small quote just for a taste of how this starts...

Page 33: Not sure what any of this shit means. It’s pretty deep though. We were going for an echo of the beginning of the epilogue when John is dreaming in anime. Except here it’s Jake, and nobody is dreaming, at least not yet. Also an anime dream wouldn’t be a nightmare for Jake, since Jake likes anime. Or he used to. Now anime probably just reminds him of Dirk.

Good thing we’re never gonna hear from that guy ever again.

...because this commentary is sort of stylized. They’re kind of riffing on what they’re doing, and I get that -- when you have to write commentary you’re asking people to PAY for you can easily feel like you have to be entertaining. But they are describing the rationale for the shot choices they made and such. They’re also going for a sort of Andrew-recap sort of attitude, and I don’t blame them for that choice, either.

[Candy] Jade is...well, you’ll see.

GOD DAMNIT. Don’t remind me that Dave vanished on her forever while they were doing pro-revolutionary work and she’s probably going to be in a bit of a state! Stupid knowing author future allusions...

Then again, that’s exactly why I’m here blogging about the commentary for you guys -- for me to relay Authorial Intent on Stuff That Happened That Seemed Plotholey and Hints About What’s Going To Be Relevant.

I just, uh... didn’t expect there to be that MUCH of it. And that casual phrasing for that Candy Jade Is Going To Be Seen And Or Relevant hint is... kinda indicating to me that there’s gonna be a LOT more of that here than I wanted. :|

Continuing... there’s talk of why they started with Jake here, being unused to writing for middle-aged characters in Homestuck terms, et cetera, but again, I’m only here to relay anything with plot impact or SERIOUS perspective on how we should / the authors are viewing this. The rest stays behind the paywall for whichever of you all think it’s worth $20, I don’t really have a choice. At least now I know why there was no one to tell me what details were actually BEHIND the paywall. Seriously, that’s steep.

Speaking of how stylized the commentary is here, I can get why some might read it and view the authors as slightly callous -- I’m giving them PLENTY of benefit of the doubt, though. Andrew was FAR from callous and he hurt us worse out of love of artistic intent with the Epilogues than the HS^2 folks could EVER hurt us. Real Dirk-like, actually. Dirk is practically half of a self-insert, as we well know. No wonder Andrew thought the right thing to do was to take his hands off the story, what with Dirk’s villainous action being putting his own hands ON the story.

We like to make fun of Jake English as much as the next guy, but he probably is actually pretty good at “doing things” if the need arises.

Mhmm; there are some jibes at how screwed up Jake has made his life, but I don’t believe these authors actually disrespect Jake at all. He was dealt a bad hand by the story leading up to this point (quite INTENTIONALLY by Dirk’s narrative control in the Epilogues, too) and HS^2 and its bonuses so far have been exploring the heap of merits and potential he’s still got in him.

It’s kind of sweet how he wants to clean out his ecto-son’s house, even if most of that is to prevent the slow creep of mounting existential dread and narrative relevance.

Huh. So they think Jake can sort of feel that narrative relevance is seeping in around him, to him? That’s not out of the question at all.

Continuing... they’re going on a bit about the same sort of things I mentioned about their choices in detail or detail-less-ness when depicting people in this new format, considering ages and the paired text descriptions and such. That’s the sort of thing you’d traditionally want to pony up for commentary for, so rest assured that all that IS in their commentary posts if you want to do that. I’m kind of extracting the plot stuff out of the paywall just on principle.

A lot of making this comic--and every other comic ever--is trying to convey as much information with as little space as possible.

Quite so.

From this conversation we find out a couple things. 1) that Brain Ghost Dirk knows about Ultimate Dirk, and he thinks he’s a dickhead. 2) Brain Ghost Dirk knows who Jeff Bezos is, and Jake doesn’t. This could be a sign of a couple things, all of which are probably stupid.

This is ALSO what I came here for: Legitimate “don’t worry about it” handwaves about stuff that shouldn’t matter to us. I never ascribed the slightest bit of relevance or inference to BGDirk making a Jeff Bezos reference, and I’m glad I was completely justified in ignoring it. So far I agree with this probably-plural-but-acting-like-a-singular author’s train of thought.

Come to think of it, it’s maybe strange that in this Cool Future Earth where all of our characters are rich as hell, none of them have bothered to have any sort of corrective eye surgery. Jane, Jake, John, and Jade all still wear glasses. I guess they do have “signature looks” to maintain in regards to their brand.

I had to include this, I was legitimately curious. Understood it was probably an artistic decision to stay on-brand a fair bit -- and losing glasses even temporarily has a lot of thematic significance whenever it happens in Homestuck Proper -- but it’s nice to have some confirmation that this was the understandable rationale behind the choice.

Here we find out what Dirk thinks about Jake’s behavior of the last few years. In other words, we find out what Jake thinks about Jake’s behavior over the last few years. [...]

[Brain Ghost] Dirk is manipulating Jake here, but he isn’t actually saying anything demonstrably untrue.

Again, most of this was obvious at the time, but it’s nice to have authorial confirmation on what was being brought across as per the strange divide between Brain Ghost Dirk’s independent will and his mostly-part-of-Jake status.

Seriously though, shoutout to the conceit that god tiers can just fly endlessly, with no visible effort. It’s a really excellent form of narrative shortcut that fits perfectly into the bonkers vibe of earth c as a whole. Oh there goes one of the Creators, just flying over the Wal-Mart like an asshole.

You know... who IS doing the commentary here? One of the authors, all of them? One of the artists?? This really is a COLLABORATIVE effort between the authors and artists involved here, I think, and it shows in their clear surprise and appreciation for each others’ work that only settles into a full understanding instead of just knowing what one intended off the bat.

It calls into question exactly how much of the Condesce’s mind control was actually mind control at all, and how much was just a lowering of inhibitions.

Right, right.

We see Jane greeting Jake here with open arms, which makes you wonder exactly what is going on here. If you’ll remember from Candy, Jane has already served Jake divorce papers. A mystery in need of solving, for sure.

HERE we go! This is the potential plothole we were concerned about that got me alerted that the commentary had something to add in the first place. John mentioned toward the trail-end of the Candy epilogues that divorce papers had shown up for Jake. (And we also saw an HS^2 update ago or so that Jane hadn’t actually KNOWN Tavros was “awol” at all until he was literally a part of this whole clowncorpse logistics business.) So in light of what this post continues to say:

It could be that Jane has put aside the nasty business of their divorce in order to have a strong chest to cry on. Can’t really say I blame her. Jake English has many flaws but he does seem like a good person to drape yourself across and really let loose on. And without Gamzee there, Jane needs another punching bag.

...it all finally fits as pretty logically consistent, although the author is being deliberately coy in a way that leaves it open for more to be revealed later about exactly how this is happening. Good! No obvious plotholes in HS^2 (yet). That’s an honest relief. The more often they have something in mind where I’d previously worried they’d screwed up, the more often I can give them credit and speculate properly on those gaps in story-logic expecting something there, like we so often got to with Andrew before the retconsplit made even THAT kinda fucky.

If you’ve ever had a friend or family member go evil, you’ll know that one of the hardest parts is there’s always still elements of them that you like.

I can definitely say that from nearly personal experience.

Also, at this point in the story there is no lingering doubt that Jake and Dirk have had a sexual relationship. There’s a familiarity there that wasn’t around when they were teens.

I assumed so, but I guess I never thought ABOUT how I assumed so. Huh.

Do any of the creators have a moral leg to stand on if all they’re doing is curling up into a ball and hoping the world gets better without them? Actually, does anyone have a moral leg to stand on if they do that?

Almost Riddley, there.

These posts are certainly interesting! Steeply priced for what they are, but interesting. Moving on to the second of four so far... this one’s about Catnapped Part 1.

Taking over Earth C's business world certainly would have required rubbing shoulders with the already-powerful on the planet.

--yep, which I never doubted even when brought up in the Epilogues is a large part of her supply-side government views.

Ah, looks like the bonus commentary is a good deal shorter! But that bonus section was a good deal shorter than the story section covered earlier too, so.

On to the next one, for Clown Logistics.

Page 58: If you love Vriskas, i hope you enjoy more Vriska content. If you hate Vriskas, well. Here is another one that is kind of different. Feel free to contemplate nature vs nurture and how best to apply this dichotomy toward emoting about the vriskas of your choice how you see fit.

I’m starting to really enjoy this author commentary.

Tavros being named Tavros sure was a decision. Go back and reread the commentary for panel 58 but stop before the nature/nurture thing, since they are not clones, or even the same species. They just have the same name, which, in this universe, means you at least type kind of the same.

Hmhmm.

Page 65: Sometimes you try and come up with something to say about a page, and you cannot, and so you wait 8 hours, and go see Knives Out, and then you have 2 white russians, and then you still can’t come up with anything to say, but oh well! Commentary needs writing. Tavros is experiencing an emotion here.

Now THAT’s a mood. I gotta go see Knives Out sometime soon.

...Alright, I can see why some people think MAAAAYBE this author might be being a little disrespectful to the audience, but if they’re going based on THIS, I don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. This comment could have come from Andrew’s fingertips any day of the week!!! I honestly wouldn’t WANT replacement authors who couldn’ comment like this in there for a page in paid commentary, especially in a lighter section of the story that doesn't need too much said about it.

And I paid $20 for this shit.

...Continuing, I’m loving all this commentary on Harry Anderson. Representative excerpt:

Again, direct your eyes toward the boy. What a fucking asshole.

...these commentaries are honestly improving my mood! I didn’t expect that, really.

Ah, I didn’t even notice that the flying cars appear to be self-driving. I think maybe the back of my mind MIGHT have noticed but only a bit.

Referring to the corpse-carry crew:

Page 82: Pokedex entry for Magneton in Pokemon Sun: When three Magnemite link together, their brains also become one. They do not become three times more intelligent.

Ain’t THAT a mood.

(...I just had an internal “Wait, am I using that right, it being a “mood”? Isn’t that the hip new term, how do I have any right to latch onto that however much I feel it? Ohhh gosh I’m so fucking old” moment.)

It’s clear from the commentator’s complaints that the crew never viewed this commentary ALONE as worth upping the pledge to $20, but that’s... not quite a bad thing? I think it’d have been more disrespectful to think that they COULD make the commentary worth that. I doubt there’s a single person on their team who feels quite right about the business model (besides the artists they have plenty of context to know how deserving they are of a living goddamn wage), but it’s what they have to live with and go with, here. I feel weird for honestly understanding ‘em, and more than slightly pitying for how many people will look at all this and read “these assholes don’t care about us”. I really can’t think that’s anywhere CLOSE to true from this without more context. (And I really DON’T want more context, don’t send me any. I’ve got to read HS^2 and I’m enjoying reading it so far so let me keep enjoying it please. Background drama details make me nauseous, DON’T give me any if there is any (which I wouldn’t know about in the first place beyond an opinionated friend or two dropping hints in a bad mood).)

Did you know there are people who I’ve seen honestly believing “Undertale is pretty good but the creator is an arrogant asshole”?????

Because they saw his tweet about the game score passing Kojima’s MGSV on metacritic briefly and misinterpreted his wide-eyed disbelief, disbelief honed to nervous laughter to maintain sanity by Toby’s insecurity about his unprofessional work and work product??? They thought he was SERIOUS without any of the context of the usual insincere little dog persona they should’ve read into the game of his they played??

Awh man. That just ticks me off.

Anyway where were we.

Page 91: This is a flashback so I didn’t write this one, which means I thankfully don’t have to say anything about it.

Wait. What?

Are they trading off writers between chapters, or...? Hm.

Whatever they’re doing, it fits together pretty darn well SO far.

Alright, that finishes that off, time for the last commentary post on the second bonus update.

I don't know if you noticed, but everything is terrible right now. And I don't mean just in Homestuck's dumb fake earth. I mean in our dumb real earth.

Now that’s a mood.

I've been playing a lot of Death Stranding recently. Basically any media that you're making in 2019 has to either address what's going on around us or come off sanitized, sterilized, with its head in the sand. Kojima offers a simple power fantasy: Through Norman Reedus's sweaty, urine-filled labor, the things that divide us can be banished. America can be unified again.

Now THAT is a god damned MOOD.

The author(?) goes in about why this is happening, why Jane is being confronted this way, why she IS this way, et cetera.

Privilege, safety, and inherited wealth do funny things to the brain. People justify to themselves why they have what they have. If you have enough for long enough, you start to convince yourself you deserve it.

That’s one of the biggest goddamn reasons for the inequality and political landscape we have today IRL, yeah.

She saw a new world and chose, simply, to replicate the power structures of the 21st-century America she was raised in. Boardrooms, power pantsuits, formality and professionalism.

Jane's favorite comic, a noir-detective drama steeped in the pop-cultural trappings of pulp Americana, reflects this mindset.

So, our catgirl Seer of Light takes us through the looking glass, and we get to see an old friend.

Hm!

Nothing really to say, I just had to share this fitting context the author is giving. How things fit together even better than they seemed to, and this was all far from random.

I feel warmly ensconced in the womb of nostalgia, gently cradled on Norman Reedus's chest.

Pffffffff

Yep, more of what we already surmised and appreciated, how Swifer and Cliper were giving us some much needed perspective... the commentary post even has little traditional-Homestuck sprites for ‘em.

And... that’s it for the commentary so far! Again, I enjoyed all that more than I expected. $20 doesn’t sting for me as much as it does for others in general, but it stung a lot less after I was through reading all that honestly somewhat-entertaining stuff confirming a lot of the insights I’d thought the plot was having.

I’ll probably wait to check for further commentary posts until like... after bonus updates come out, in the future, and then just blog about whatever I’m not caught up on. Sound fair? I’m going to blog as often as a real or bonus upd8 comes out, but I’m not going to pop in more often than that for my own sanity’s sake. Have a good MLK weekend, y’all. :)

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #bladekindeyewear #Homestuck Commentary #blastyoboots

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