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spencerreidsconverse · 3 years

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When Evil Doesn't Sleep

summary: Spencer has been gone far too long on a case and when he finally returns home, reader shows him just how much she missed him.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut, implied dom/sub undertones, pet names

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader

A/N: My first fic!!! I hope you all enjoy! <3

“Y/n I’m really sorry but it looks like the case is going to take a lot longer than we thought. We had a recent development and the profile is now pointing to a partnership so now we’re hunting down two unsubs”. You sighed as Spencer rattled off his apologies through the phone before putting him out of his misery “Spencer honey, you don’t have to apologize. Quit worrying about me and focus on catching the bad guys.”

To say you missed Spencer would be the understatement of the century. He had been in Utah for six days already and now with a pair of psychos your odds of finding him in your bed by the end of the week were growing increasingly slim. It didn’t help that you had been swamped prepping for an extra class you’d agreed to take on at Georgetown where you worked as a Criminal Psychology professor. Between both of your hectic work schedules you hadn’t had a real weekend to yourselves in a few months, and while you knew when you first started dating Spencer that it was an inevitable of his job, it had never been this crazy before. They say evil never sleeps but lately it hasn't even taken a catnap.

“I love you Y/N. I promise I’ll come home to you soon and take you out on a real date. I’m sorry darling, I have to go. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel tonight and if you’re still up we can talk for a bit okay?”. “Alright Spence, I love you too. Stay safe okay?”. “I promise, goodbye love.”

Your farewell barely made it past your lips when the dial tone cut you off and once again your boyfriend of three years vanished from your side of the country. You let out an exasperated sigh before reminding yourself that there were other people who needed his help and that you could wait for his attention - at least until that night. Continuing the trek up the stairs of your and spencer’s shared apartment, you managed to haphazardly balance your grocery bags in one hand while unlocking the door and disabling the security alarm, internally cringing at the high shriek that rattled through your brain.

Walking through the living room, you sat the bags on your kitchen counter and began reorganizing the small fridge space to fit all the perishables you had brought home, absentmindedly hoping they wouldn't spoil now that it would be just you for several more days. Moving to the cupboard you replaced the few grab and go snack boxes you had made up to try and encourage Spencer to eat more throughout the day and refilled the paper plate stash that quickly became a requirement after you realized neither one of you could tolerate doing dishes every night. You ripped open the cardboard packaging of yet another microwave dinner and set the timer before leaving to change into more comfortable attire.

Opening the door of your shared bedroom, the smell of vanilla wax melts and dryer sheets hit you like a brick and immediately sent a pang of loneliness through your chest. Spencer was usually around by the time the chores needed done, and you rarely had to do them yourself. Unfortunately, the laundry was piling up and you needed something to distract you so you spent the day running errands and cleaning the apartment more thoroughly than necessary. You walked over to the stack of black dresser drawers and pulled out the first pair of pajama pants you touched, Spencer’s old caltech sweats that now fit you far better than him considering he had received them when he was 14. They looked more like capris on him now and it was embarrassingly difficult to convince him to buy a new pair that fit him properly. You slipped on a tank top and pulled your hair back before making your way lazily to the bathroom to take off the remnants of your simple makeup.

After scrubbing your face clean and pulling your dinner out, you moved to ready the couch for yet another night of binge watching cheesy 90s movies. You selected Clueless and watched the vibrant colors pop across the screen while you dived into your meal, making a poor attempt to ignore the slight freezer burnt taste that lingered after every bite. You finished your dinner and set the bowl aside before covering yourself with a blanket and allowing yourself to sink into the cushions, desperately awaiting Spencer's text.

You were jolted out of your doze by the loud buzzing of your phone against the wooden coffee table. Clumsily you reached for it and managed to swipe the answer pad before it sent your genius to voicemail. “Hello?” you managed before a yawn ripped its way through you suddenly. “Hey Y/N, I’m sorry it’s so late. I didn't mean to wake you, I figured you’d still be up. You should go back to bed love.” For the first time, you noticed the neon green numbers on the microwave. 12:30. You stifled another yawn and shook your head in an effort to wake yourself further “No way, I just dozed off while watching a movie. I was waiting to talk to you. Besides, I’m up now anyways so you might as well stay on with me for a bit. Did you get any further today?” “Well, JJ had the idea that the partners were originally a typical dominant/submissive partnership but that something in the dynamic must have changed because the MO began to deteriorate. We think the partners must have split up now, because we’re finding similar pieces of the previous MO at separate crime scenes.”.

You processed the information he fed you slowly due to your semiconscious state but eventually you put your words in order well enough to respond. “That should be helpful though yeah? I mean, they’re used to working in a partnership so being suddenly separated from your other half so to speak would throw you off track quite a bit right?”. You could practically hear him smiling through the phone as you drew the conclusions the team had come to only a few hours prior. “Yes. We’re hoping to be able to draw them out and trap them. Play them against each other.”.”Does that mean I can stop sleeping on the couch soon?”. You heard him let out a dejected sigh - you knew he hated that you would force yourself onto the cramped couch when you had a king sized bed a few hundred feet away but he understood.

When he had come home in the early hours of the morning after an abrupt end to a case a few weeks after you had moved into his place, he had caught you curled up on the sofa with a throw pillow stuffed under your head. When he questioned you about it the next morning, you simply answered that the bed felt too big without him and that you couldn’t stand the empty feeling. “Sooner than later I hope my love. Y/N I really wish you wouldn’t do that to yourself. It’s horrible for your body. It can put you at a much higher risk for chronic back and neck pain as well as-”. “Spence. I’m not a giant like you are. I fit on the couch much better than you do, and I barely notice the difference.”. You both cringed, hearing the lie clear in your voice. Still, Spencer must have felt bad because he humored you. “If you're sure. What did you do today my love?”. You smiled sadly hearing in his voice just how desperate he was to escape from his reality and come home to you.

”Well, I straightened the house. In fact, it’s so clean i think we could use it as a sterilization room.”. He let out a soft chuckle and you could hear him begin to relax as you recounted the rest of your day, excluding the part about the microwave dinner. Spencer loved to tell you how many of the ingredients were one step away from processed garbage and you decided to opt out of the lecture for the evening. He had more than enough to worry about without having to focus on your diet while he was away. After a half hour of light conversation, a loud yawn betrayed you as you were excitedly discussing the cute puppy you had met on the way to the market. Spencer immediately requested that you hang up and get some more sleep but you refused. After a few minutes of bickering, you relented on the condition that he would read to you until you had fallen asleep. You curled up under the fluffy blanket as Spencer’s even voice recited the collection of Grimm’s fairy tales quickly lured you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning as sunlight peered through the curtains, stretching your body out to ease the aches from the previous night. You smiled softly as your screen lit up with a text from Spencer wishing you a good morning and an update that they had a solid plan for boxing in the two unsubs that afternoon. “If all goes to plan I should be carrying you to our bed before midnight tonight.”. Your smile widened and you sent back “Can’t wait to truly see you - and love you- tonight. I’ll be waiting.” You plugged your phone into the charger and straightened up from the night before when your phone went off again. The one word message glared at you from the screen and you let out an involuntary giggle. “Tease.”. You hoped it gave him something to look forward to until he was back in your arms. You sent back a simple “XO” before deciding to reread one of your favorite books for a few hours to kill some time. You made yourself a sandwich for lunch and had a few glasses of water as the clock slowly ticked by. You were over halfway through the lengthy novel when you received another message.

“We apprehended both unsubs. Hotch is postponing the paperwork until Monday so we can go straight home. I’ll see you in a few hours baby.”. You jumped slightly in celebration before finishing your current chapter, marking your place, and all but skipping to the shower to shave and exfoliate your skin. You knew Spencer would still be heavily worked up once he arrived home and luckily, his favorite release included intertwining your bodies as close as possible and loving you sweetly and slowly.

You took your time in the shower careful not to nick yourself with your razor. You scrubbed your scalp with your nails, letting your stress and soreness melt away under the steam. You waited until the water ran cold before turning the knob and stepping out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and blow drying your hair until it layed perfectly even. You applied lotion all over your skin and stepped out of the bathroom to slip on your black silk robe, knowing it wouldn’t be worth it to dress up further. Spencer would be desperate to feel your skin against his and any fabric in his way didn't stand much of a chance.

You made an actual meal for dinner, a pasta dish with chicken that could be easily reheated for Spencer when he grew hungry later in the night. You helped yourself to a serving and after quickly cleaning up the kitchen and storing the leftovers, you retreated to the bedroom to wait for his return.

You were half paying attention to the feed you opted to scroll through on your phone when you heard the door creak open and bags drop to the floor. You set your phone on the bedside table and ran towards the foyer, all but throwing yourself at the exhausted man in front of you. He took a step back from the impact but still enveloped you in his arms and pulled you impossibly tight into his chest. “Hi baby.” you whispered against the scruffy skin of his jawline, peppering kisses up towards his earlobe. He let out a long sigh of relief and picked you up off the hardwood floor, wrapping your thighs around his waist resulting in a high pitched giggle to erupt from your throat. He kissed you then, slowly at first but quickly building more passionate. Your lungs were burning when he finally allowed you to pull away, opting to kiss down your neck to your collarbones and the skin of your chest that was newly exposed as your robe slipped open.

He carefully made his way back to your room, continuing his kisses back up to your shoulder, stopping only to leave marks you knew would only grow darker as time passed. At the very least he was sure to only mark you in places you could cover with little difficulty. “I missed you so much Y/N. The entire ride home all I could think about was you waiting for me in our bed. My gorgeous girl.”. You felt your chest heat up at his words of admiration, wrapping your fingers into his curls and pulling his lips towards your own once more.

You felt him groan against you and moved to quickly unbutton his shirt, slipping it down his arms and tossing it in the general direction of the hamper. He pulled you up with him then, so you were both on your knees, chest to chest as he pulled your robe fully down your back to the swell of your ass where he grasped at you through the slick fabric. You let out a whine and you pulled his belt off, undoing his jeans desperate to continue. He grinned against your neck and pushed you down so you laid flat on your back, completely exposed to him. He kissed at your stomach, making his way down to your inner thighs. He licked a slow wet trail from your pelvic bone to the top of your clit as you whimpered desperately. “Spence, please… I need more”. He humored you, creating slow small circles with his tongue moaning at the taste. You cried out as he created the perfect amount of pressure on your clit, legs threatening to close around his head when he moved to slip one of his fingers easily inside you as the mix of your own wetness and his saliva aided him. He smirked as he felt your thighs flex before using his left hand to throw one of your legs over his shoulders at a time. He pushed a second finger in, curling them up to perfectly reach your g-spot with every thrust. Soon though, you grew impatient with just his fingers. You needed more and you knew just how to get it.

“I want you so bad Spence. I’ve waited for so long and I just can’t anymore. I need to feel you deep inside of me.”. You were positive those words would leave him just as needy as you were and he proved you right when he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and went to line himself up against you. “Wait.”. He stopped immediately, examining your face for any indication of what was wrong. “What’s the matter baby? Are you okay?”. You shook your head and smiled at his concern before switching your positions so his back was resting against the pillows as you straddle his thighs. He smirked at you as he caught on, trailing his hands up the front of your legs to rest at your hips. “You gonna ride me angel?”. You responded with an eager nod and he squeezed your hips, pulling you up further so you were hovering above him. “Sit pretty like my good girl then.”. You whined softly at his words before slowly sinking yourself down around his length, sucking in a harsh breath at the stretch. Even with how wet you were, the adjustment took longer than usual due to the dry spell you were both suffering from as of late.

When you finally felt stretched out enough to move, you slowly ground your hips forward flush against his. He groaned out, lifting you back up so you were almost completely off of him before pulling you back down. You moaned both at the sensation and the idea of being manhandled by the genius below you. You realized what he was asking though, and began bouncing yourself up and down his cock, stopping every few thrusts to grind your clit down on him. You let out soft moans, and after a few more minutes you felt his fingers dig deeper into your hips and his breaths quicken. You knew he was close and as if on cue you started rubbing fast circles against your clit as he spoke again.

“Baby girl I’m getting close. You gonna cum with me angel?” You nodded furiously in response and you felt him start thrusting up to meet you. You panted as you hurried towards the edge of your orgasm, holding on until his thrusts grew sloppier. “You ready to cum with me baby? You gonna cum on my cock?” “Yeah.. gonna cum all over your cock Doc.” You fought to keep the grin off your face when he moaned at the title. He thrusted deep into you twice, before he ordered your release. “I want you to cum now baby. Cum all over my cock.” You felt your orgasm rip through you, electricity shooting through your limbs. Spencer groaned loudly as you tightened around him before pulling you down deep and releasing inside you.

You both fought to catch your breath as you rode out your highs before you found yourself slumping against his chest, suddenly drained from your activities. You felt him chuckle at your drastic change in energy as he wrapped his arms around you again. “I know you just washed the bed sheets and we’re both sweaty but do you think a washcloth will suffice for tonight?”. You nodded against his chest before slowly lifting yourself up and off of him, rolling onto your back on the other side of the bed. Spencer swiftly made his way across the hall, returning to wipe you down gently with the warm fabric. You shivered as the cool air dried your skin, watching him move throughout your room.

He slipped on a fresh pair of boxers before tossing the washcloth in the hamper along with his previously discarded clothes. He hung your robe on the back of your bedroom door then flipped the light switch off before rejoining you in bed to slip under the blankets with you. You immediately curled up into his chest, sighing contently as the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears. You kissed his chest and whispered goodnight, drifting into your first real sleep since before he left.

The next morning you and Spencer went shopping after you successfully convinced him to upgrade to a smart phone with video call abilities. He had begun to shut down the idea as he always had before but after the mere suggestion of what it could do to better your late night hotel room chats he was the one pulling you towards the nearest phone shop. You smiled politely while Spencer took his sweet time weighing the pros and cons of each model, letting your mind drift to the first time it would come in handy. As you finally neared the checkout counter, you took Spencer's hand in your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. After running his card through the machine, the salesgirl gave him the small plastic bag and wished you both a good afternoon.

As you exited the shop, you looked up at him, nudging him to get his attention “What do you think of an app controlled vibrator?”. He stared at you incredulously for a few moments, almost stopping dead in his tracks. After recovering from the initial shock at the vulgarity of your suggestion, he shook his head with a soft smirk and nudged back against you. “Tease.” he called you once more. “That’s the reason you love me right?”. He pulled you into his side, kissing you softly. “One of many Y/N. One of many.”

#spencer reid #Spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #cm #Spencer reid smut #smut #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid fanfiction

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sylvanfreckles · 3 years

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Don’t Look (FebuWhump 23)

Fandom: Supernatural Summary: Sam and Dean are ambushed and captured by a powerful demon with an ancient lineage. Help is on the way...if they can survive.

(CW for some body horror/sores. Basically, skip if something like rashes and sores would upset you. It’s not terribly graphic, but I know this can be a real phobia for some people).

* * *

“This is obviously a trap, Dean!”

Dean rolled his eyes and sandwiched his phone between his head and shoulder, flapping his fingers at Sam in the universal “won't stop talking” gesture. Sam didn't look impressed.

“Look, man, it's just a bunch of demons,” Dean replied. He checked the clip in his gun, tucked a couple spares into his belt, and reached for an angel blade. “Don't see what has you so worked up.”

“Will you please just wait for me?” Cas's voice was strained, and Dean could practically see the impatience in every line of the angel's face. “I'm less than two hours away.”

“Are you talking while driving?” Dean smirked at Sam, though Sam just shook his head and started double-checking his own gear. “Always the little rebel, ain't ya?”

He waited while Cas spluttered in outrage. “We'll be done before you even get here,” he said, talking right over whatever point Cas was about to make. “And, hey, they've got a drive-in movie theater in this town. We can make a field trip, I think they're playing one of the new Star Wars movies.”

Cas was still talking when Dean hung up the call. He shoved the phone into his pocket with a chuckle, then caught Sam staring at him. “What?”

Sam shook his head again and shoved the trunk of the car closed. “Would it kill you to wait for him anyway?”

“And miss all the fun?” Dean slapped his brother on the arm. “Dude. It's demons. Practically kindergarten stuff for us.” Anyway all the big players were downstairs—or dead—so it wasn't like they had anything to worry about.

His brother was still bitch-facing about it when Dean shoved him down the path toward the abandoned hotel. “All right, I'll buy him a root beer float or something, and he'll get over it by the time that little rolling droid he loves so much shows up on screen.”

“BB-8?”

“Dude, I'm getting second-hand embarrassment just knowing you know that.”

Sam turned around and spread his arms out, walking backward down the path. “At least I don't know all the Starfleet captains by first name.”

“Hey, Star Trek is an important part of our cultural history,” Dean retorted, shoving his brother in the chest to keep him moving. “Star Wars is for nerds.”

* * *

The old hotel was empty, apart from the faint dusty of sulfur on some of the decrepit furniture. There were some tracks in the dust, which was a little weird for a bunch of demons, Dean had to admit, but the tracks were recent enough to prove there was demonic activity here.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Dean pulled it out and made a face at it, swiping over the icon to ignore the call.

“Dude, he's probably worried,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, he does that,” Dean shot back. He turned his phone off and shoved it back into his pocket. “He does that too damn much. We can handle one little nest of demons.”

Predictably...at least for Cas and Sam...and Dean, too, though he was loathed to admit it...they could not handle the “little” nest of demons.

The tracks lead them down to the old pool house, but before they'd even crossed the yard they'd been swarmed. The brothers had fought valiantly, back-to-back, and taken out a handful of the attacking demons but there were just too many. They were overwhelmed, hauled into the pool house, and tied to a couple of rusty old poolside chairs.

Dean jerked against his bonds—he could probably work himself free, given enough time. One side of his face had swollen up and his lip was busted up. Sam wasn't much better off, between the gash on his forehead bleeding enough to cover most of his face and the obvious dislocation to his left shoulder.

Well. Now he was gonna have to apologize to Cas for going in without him AND for getting himself and his brother captured. And injured. It would have to be a root beer float and popcorn and downloading the rest of the Star Wars movies for the weekend.

The demons were lined up along the sides of the pool now. They'd put Sam and Dean on the side nearest the shallow end, looking down the length of murky, stagnant water. Dean exchanged a look with his brother—what now? They'd been captured and beat up and tied up for, what, the world's worst diving contest?

The water rippled. Dean stared down at it in shock when a woman's head appeared at the deep end of the pool. But she wasn't swimming, she was...walking? And each step brought her further and further out of the water, the algae and slime cascading off of her body without leaving a trace behind. She was tall, with long, wavy blonde hair that fell almost to her hips. Her body was wrapped in a flowing green dress with a plunging neckline that showed off her...er, other features.

And she was walking on the water now. Because of course. Dean rolled his eyes so hard he almost sprained something. While there was something otherwordly about this whole thing, it was so obviously some demon princess bitch pretending to be a minor goddess or something.

She reached the shallow end of the pool and just stood there, looking at them. Dean glanced down at her bare feet, which were resting on the rippling water as easily as though she was standing on solid ground. “Nice trick,” he commented, smirking up at her. “Special power or just full of hot air?”

The demon in the green dress tilted her head to study him—nice try, bitch, that's Cas's thing—and blinked, her eyes clicking to beetle-black. “I am Vephar. Lord of the waters.”

“I'm Dean,” Dean replied, ignoring Sam's hissed warning. “Lord of the highway.”

Vephar studied for a moment, then raised one arm to point at his face. Pain erupted from his forehead to his chin and his brother called his name in a panicked voice. Vephar turned to face Sam next. “Who are you?”

Gritting his teeth, Dean rolled his head back enough to make eye contact with his brother. Sammy was shooting him a panicked look, obviously concerned by whatever the bitch had done. God, it still hurt. Most of the time when these bastards attacked telepathically it was like a cut from a razor, or a punch that somehow bypassed your muscle to hit you right in the organs. This was just...this was wrong. It ached and burned and felt wet somehow.

“I'm Sam,” his brother finally said, when Vephar took a step toward him. “Just Sam.”

“And why are you here, 'Just Sam'?”

Sam shot a look at Dean, who tried to shake his head subtly. “We were just looking around,” Sam finally stammered out. “The-the hotel. It's abandoned, we thought we could find something to sell in it. You know, the market for copper wire is pretty high right now.”

Vephar tilted her head to the other side. “No,” she intoned after a few seconds. “You're lying.” She raised her hand again and Sam jerked back with a cry of pain. Now Dean could see why his brother had looked so horrified. Instead of cutting or bruising, Vephar had raised an angry-looking line of oozing sores on his brother's face. It reminded him of nothing so much as Nick's face when Lucifer was burning through him...or Cas when he'd taken the souls from Purgatory.

“I was once a grand duke of hell,” Vephar explained, walking back down the length of the pool. “I commanded my legions and churned the mighty waters. I rode the seas in glorious battle, until I was betrayed and bound in this place.”

Dean grunted, tugging at the bonds on his wrists as the urge to dig his fingers into his face became nearly unbearable. “Sucks to be you.”

Vephar turned back to face him and raised one delicate eyebrow. “Indeed.”

Then she raised her hand and Dean threw his head back with a scream as another line of pain lanced up the other side of his face.

“What's binding you here?” Sam asked. “Maybe we can break it? Set you free?”

She tilted her head again, her black gaze boring into Sam's. “You're lying again.”

“Sammy, no!” Dean surged against the ropes uselessly as sores burst into existence around his brother's neck. “You bitch!”

“Temper,” Vephar replied calmly, and then the horrible, burning, wet pain was streaking down his chest under his shirt. Every shift in position made the fabric of his clothing rub against the sores, until it felt like he'd covered himself in sandpaper instead of a t-shirt.

“I don't get much to play with here,” the demon bitch said. She had that damn hand up in the air again, her index finger extended, and she waved it back and forth between the brothers as though trying to choose which one to torture. “I hope you last longer than the last ones.”

Dean was steeling himself to shout—distract the bitch, insult her, make her focus all her anger on him to give Sammy a chance to escape—when the door to the pool house exploded inward.

“Cas!” Sam's voice was thick with warning as the demons that had been lining the sides of the pool turned to swarm the angel. Dean grit his teeth and refocused his efforts on freeing himself. Cas was good—damn good—but there were well over a dozen demons, and heaven wasn't exactly running on full power these days.

He saw Cas go down. Dean threw himself backward with a jerk, finally crashing the chair into the stained tile of the pool deck. Something in the chair had cracked and his ropes were a little looser, and he fought to break himself free.

“Close your eyes!”

Dean swore and tucked his head toward his shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. Even then the burst of grace was almost enough to blind him. Damn, Cas hadn't done that in a long time. He hoped his friend still had the juice to recover from an attack like that.

Blinking back the sparks in his vision, Dean rolled onto his side and tried to push himself to his feet. He could see the smoking, empty meatsuits of the demons scattered in a half-circle around Cas, but Cas wasn't looking so good. He had sunk to one knee, and several bloody tears in his trench coat showed where the demons had gotten a few hits in before he'd smited them. Smote them. Whatever.

“Angel!”

Dean threw himself forward and tried to grab Vephar around the ankles as she stalked out of the water toward Cas. The smiting hadn't been enough to end her, though she seemed to be staggering a little and there was black sludge trickling out of her nose.

Cas struggled to his feet, but he was empty-handed—Dean could see a glint of silver just a few feet away, but Cas couldn't reach it before Vephar had a hand around his throat, backing him into the wall.

“I'm going to enjoy this,” the demon bitch sneered. “Angels are so much more...resilient...than humans. Don't you agree, 'lord of the highway'?”

Dean let out a cry as more pain tore through the side of his face. It felt like the sores were swelling, and his stomach nearly revolted when he felt liquid oozing down his neck.

“Hey! Bitch!”

Vephar whirled around, just in time to catch Sam's knife in her throat. Damn, but the kid had good aim. They'd been trying to copy Ruby's blade for years now, and while Sam had never come up with something to match it in power, the runes he'd started carving into the knife he tucked into his boot still did some damage.

The demon released Cas to tug uselessly at the knife in her throat. She glowered at Sam and started to raised her hand, but Cas tackled her from behind.

He'd gotten his angel blade back, during her moment of distraction, and drove it deep into her back, giving it a vicious twist as she screamed out her dying breath.

Dean collapsed in relief. It felt like the sores were still on his face, but the pain had faded significantly. It no longer felt like his skin was going to erupt and peel away from his bone—more like he had a bad case of road rash.

He rolled himself over to check on Sammy. The kid had only worked his right arm free and thrown his knife from there. He sagged in his ropes, panting for breath, but gave Dean a thumb's up when he realized his brother was looking.

Before he could roll back to check on Cas, a firm hand gripped him by the shoulder and rolled him onto his back. Dean found himself staring up at the angel's bruised, angry face. “Next time I tell you it's a trap,” Cas ground out, even as his fingers brushed feather-light over Dean's forehead to heal his wounds, “do me a favor and wait for me.”

Okay. Root beer float, popcorn, the rest of the Star Wars movies, AND another couple pairs of those novelty socks Cas liked so much. The angel had definitely earned it today.

* * *

You guessed it, Vephar is from the Key of Solomon. They’re described as being able to make the seas rough or calm, guiding ships to their destination, and killing by putrefying wounds and sores (fun!). They take the form of a mermaid, so I gave them a female meatsuit and the power to walk on water.

(For those of you who don’t know, the Key of Solomon is my favorite resource for extra-powerful demons. Vephar is the third I’ve used so far, so there’s just 69 to go!)

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday23 #supernatural #fic #fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #don't look #captured #demons #cw body horror #cw sores #more like BADASStiel am i right?#I'm right aren't i #hurt dean #hurt sam

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tinyshe · 3 years

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The Great Reset Demands Firing All Unvaccinated Employees Analysis by Dr. Joseph Mercola

Story at-a-glance

The Great Reset has been called a conspiracy theory by many, despite specific plans published on the World Economic Forum (WEF) website and partnerships between the WEF and global organizations like the United Nations and World Health Organization

An investigative report asserts that the ongoing restructuring of processes that control food and data are upending traditional practices so private corporations have more control and influence than democratically elected government

A part of the Great Reset is a reset of the economy, including jobs. Many across the U.S. are facing unemployment if they do not choose to take a genetic therapy experiment in the form of a COVID-19 vaccine

Employees of six major hospitals in Cincinnati, Ohio, have filed a lawsuit, hoping to stop the mandated vaccine, which health experts are promoting with inconsistent messages, first claiming it does not stop community transmission; yet, requiring it for employment under the guise of preventing the spread of infection

Over the past year and a half, I’ve written many articles detailing the evidence supporting the claim that the COVID pandemic is a ruse to usher in a new system of global centralized governance by unelected leaders, the so-called Great Reset.

The recent release of the House Foreign Affairs Committee report1 entitled, “The Origins of COVID-19: An Investigation of the Wuhan Institute of Virology,” presented solid evidence that many of the “conspiracy theories” about the virus were in fact true. For example, using some intelligence reports and other public documents, the committee found that:2

“… we now believe it’s time to completely dismiss the wet market as the source of the outbreak. We also believe the preponderance of the evidence proves the virus did leak from the WIV and that it did so sometime before September 12, 2019.”

They presented evidence of genetic modification and wrote this:3

“This report also lays out ample evidence that researchers at the WIV, in conjunction with U.S. scientists and funded by both the PRC [People’s Republic of China] government and the U.S. government, were conducting gain of-function research on coronaviruses at the WIV …

In many instances, the scientists were successful in creating 'chimeric viruses' — or viruses created from the pieces of other viruses — that could infect human immune systems.

With dangerous research like this conducted at safety levels similar to a dentist’s office, a natural or genetically modified virus could have easily escaped the lab and infected the community.”

The idea of the Great Reset may feel like a conspiracy theory, especially if life as you know it where you live has not dramatically changed. You still go to work, buy food, go to the gym, go out to eat and attend events. There may be people wearing masks, and you may see or hear news reports about vaccine mandates and vaccine passports, but it hasn’t reached your employer and you may not be personally affected … yet.

But, make no mistake, unless we all do our part to peacefully protest the changes being planned, write to our legislatures, and talk to our neighbors and friends, what is happening in New York,4 France,5 Germany6 and Israel,7 will soon be knocking on your front door.

Does ‘Great Reset’ Sound Like a Conspiracy? It May Be Worse

An article titled, “Welcome To 2030: I Own Nothing, Have No Privacy and Life Has Never Been Better” appeared in Forbes Magazine8 in November 2016. It was written by Ida Auken, a member of the Denmark Parliament9 and agenda contributor at the World Economic Forum (WEF).10

The article was frightening in the simplistic way it describes the dissolution of society as we know it. And, as time marches forward, we see more evidence of what the WEF has proposed as “perfect sense”11 coming true.

Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau suggested in September 2020 what other world leaders have also promoted12 — that the COVID-19 virus, that has killed and devastated the health of many people, provided the world is an:13

"… opportunity for a reset ... our chance to accelerate our pre-pandemic efforts to re-imagine economic systems that actually address global challenges like extreme poverty, inequality and climate change."

More than 20 world leaders came together to suggest, "At a time when COVID-19 has exploited our weaknesses and divisions, we must seize this opportunity and come together as a global community for peaceful cooperation that extends beyond this crisis."14 And while that sounds noble, altruistic and humanitarian, it is the plan for the future that is in stark contrast to the statement.

Ivan Wecke, a journalist from Open Democracy, did a deep dive into some of what lies behind the WEF’s Great Reset plan and found what he called something “almost as sinister hiding in plain sight. In fact, more sinister because it’s real and it’s happening now. And it involves things as fundamental as our food, our data and our vaccines.”15

Although Wecke discounts the plans of the Great Reset to abolish private property, use the virus to solve overpopulation and enslave the remainder of humanity as “nebulous and hard to pin down,” he goes on to illustrate in detail how the fundamental structure of the world that controls food and data, and ultimately humanity, is being upended and restructured so that private corporations have more control and influence than governments.

WEF Calls It ‘Stakeholder Capitalism’

It comes down to “stakeholder capitalism,” which are the magic words that Klaus Schwab, WEF chairman, has been promoting for decades, and is a central theme in the organization's Great Reset plan.16 The concept as Wecke describes it is to transform global capitalism, so corporations create value for stakeholders.17

These stakeholders can be consumers, employees, communities and others. This will be carried out through multi-stakeholder partnerships of governments and private-sector businesses across the globe. As he dug deeper into the concept, it became more apparent that this means giving corporations more power and taking that influence away from democratically elected institutions.

The initial plan was drafted after the 2008 economic crisis and included the vision that governments around the world would be only one influencer in a multi-stakeholder model. When he asked himself who would be the other nongovernmental stakeholders, Wecke only had to look at the WEF partners that meet each year in Davos, Switzerland.

These partners are some of the biggest companies in oil, food, technology and pharmaceuticals. In other words, the companies that could ultimately restructure society and control the supply chain are those that provide everyday necessities. These proposed concepts appear to have started taking shape in a strategic partnership agreement which the WEF signed with the United Nations in 2019.

Harris Gleckman, senior fellow at the Center for Governance and Sustainability from the University of Massachusetts18 calls this move an inroad to creating a place for corporations inside the United Nations.19

The WEF is using the concept of multi-stakeholders to change the current system that countries use today to work together. This multilateral system may not always be effective and may have too many layers of bureaucracy, but Wecke says it is “theoretically democratic because it brings together democratically elected leaders of countries to make decisions in the global arena.”20

Big Tech May Run the Roadmap for Digital Cooperation

What’s really happening here, though, is the move toward placing unelected stakeholders in positions of power does not deepen democracy but, rather, puts decision making in the hands of financially focused corporations. As Wecke points out, this will have real-world implications for how medications are distributed, food systems are organized and how Big Tech is governed.

Under a democratic rule of law, six corporations already control 90% of the news media consumed by Americans. Tech Startups calls this an “illusion of choice and objectivity.”21 How much more propaganda will be thrown in the face of consumers when Big Tech is monitoring and controlling Big Tech?

The year 2030 holds significance for the WEF’s vision22 which is to scale technology and facilitate “inclusive growth.” In the fall of 2021, the UN will bring together the Food Systems Summit to achieve sustainable development goals by 2030.23 Yet, Sofia Monsalve of FIAN International, a human rights organization focused on food and nutrition, told Wecke:24

“’Abandoning pesticides is not on the table. How come?’ asks Sofia Monsalve of FIAN International, a human rights organisation focused on food and nutrition.

'There is no discussion on land concentration or holding companies accountable for their environmental and labour abuses.’ This fits into a bigger picture Monsalve sees of large corporations, which dominate the food sector, being reluctant to fix the production system. ‘They just want to come up with new investment opportunities.’”

Wecke also dug into a long list of participants in the 2020 Roadmap For Digital Cooperation25 and found influencers included Microsoft, Google, Facebook and the WEF.26 The functions for the group appear to be vague, but if the group comes to fruition, it will be a decisive victory for those Big Tech companies that have been pushing to expand their power,27 are fighting antitrust rules28 and are facing accusations of tax evasion.29

The move by the UN and WEF has not gone unnoticed. A group of more than 170 civil organizations have signed an open letter30 detailing why they oppose the plan. At a time when stronger regulations are needed to protect consumers, it appears that the new UN digital roadmap may be seeking less.

Firing the Unvaccinated Is the Start of the Great Job Reset

Finally, Wecke addresses the issue of global vaccine distribution.31 Instead of the World Health Organization, which is “the directing and coordinating authority for health within the United Nations system,”32 being responsible for vaccine access, another initiative was created called COVAX. According to the WHO, COVAX is co-led by the WHO, UNICEF, CEPI and GAVI.33

As a quick reminder, GAVI (the Vaccine Alliance) and CEPI (Coalition for Epidemic Preparedness Innovations) have strong ties with the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation and the WEF and are connected with large pharmaceutical companies such as Pfizer, AstraZeneca and more.34

The influence these groups have on the global distribution of the COVID vaccine may have been best illustrated when South Africa and India requested a temporary lift on the rules governing intellectual property to increase manufacturing and distribution to developing countries. Wecke reports35 that although the WHO director-general publicly said that he backed a proposal, others in the COVAX initiative strongly opposed it, and it didn’t happen.

There appears to be enough vaccines available in industrialized nations for the WEF to support any and all employees being fired if they choose not to take the vaccine. The National File36 published a tweet the WEF made in May 2021 which said, “Get your COVID-19 jab — or you could face consequences from your employer #COVID19 #JobsReset21.”

Additionally, the WEF had posted an article37 on their website that made a variety of claims about the percentage of companies that would require employees to be vaccinated and juxtaposed mental health concerns and burnout through the pandemic with being unvaccinated in the article.

After intense backlash, the tweet was deleted and replaced with a question, “Will employees be required to get the COVID-19 vaccination?”38 The new post quickly filled with screen shots of the original post.

Two Cities Promising to Fire Employees

Even before the FDA announced their approval of the Pfizer vaccine,39 Cincinnati, Ohio, area hospital systems had announced that starting October 1, 2021, all health care workers and volunteers are required to be vaccinated. Among those participating in the vaccine mandate are the University of Cincinnati Health, Cincinnati Children's Hospital Medical Center and the Christ Hospital Health Network.40

Health care workers in Cincinnati have now filed a lawsuit against six of the hospital systems saying requiring vaccines for employment is unlawful and violates workers’ Constitutional rights. The lawsuit says, "When there was no vaccine, the workers had to go to work. They were heroes. Now that there is a vaccine, they have to get the vaccine or be fired. Now they are ‘zeros.’"41

April Hoskins is a lab assistant at St. Elizabeth Edgewood who has worked for 20 years in family practice and hospital oncology. She told a reporter from WLWT5,42 "You've trusted us this whole time to take care of these patients, unvaccinated, without the proper PPE. And now out of nowhere, you have to get it or you're going to be terminated? Like, something is wrong with that picture.”

August 23, 2021, New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio announced that all public school teachers and staff would be required to have at least one dose of the vaccine by September 27, 2021, or they would no longer have a job. Not soon afterward, the United Federation of Teachers union issued a statement from union president Michael Mulgrew reiterating their desire and priority to keep the students and teachers safe. He went on to say:43

“While the city is asserting its legal authority to establish this mandate, there are many implementation details, including provisions for medical exceptions, that by law must be negotiated with the UFT and other unions, and if necessary, resolved by arbitration."

It Is Important to Point Out the Inconsistencies

This was the second announcement from de Blasio, who first mandated vaccinations for approximately 400,000 employees in the Department of Education, New York Police Department and the Fire Department of New York.44 In tandem with New York, California Long Beach Unified School District also announced mandatory vaccinations, as has Chicago Mayor Lori Lightfoot for all Chicago Public School employees by October 15, 2021.

New Jersey Gov. Phil Murphy also announced mandatory vaccinations or twice-weekly testing requirements for all state employees, effective October 18. It is clear that as different states and municipalities add their own mandates, it’s essential to be aware of what is happening in your local and regional areas, as well as to speak up at public meetings and demand public hearings on the matter.

The mayor of Orland Park, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago, describes an example of how decisions behind closed doors can have a different outcome than those in public.45 He also says what is happening now is about “our processes, Constitutionality and the rule of law.”

The inconsistencies from health experts are deafening. Even the World Health Organization advises people who are vaccinated to continue wearing masks due to the Delta variant because “vaccine alone won’t stop community transmission.”46 Simultaneously, the public is told that everyone needs the vaccine to prevent spread of the infection47 and if you have the vaccine, you can still spread the virus and put others at risk.48

Each person has a responsibility to speak up, share information and ensure that as people make up their minds about vaccination, vaccine passports, civil liberties and the right to free speech, they have all the information they need and not just what’s shared in mainstream media.

To that end, I encourage you to share my articles with your friends and family. As you know, they are removed from the website 48 hours after publication. Please copy and paste the information, with the sources, and share it!

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revchainsaw · 3 years

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Bumblebee (2018)

Good Evening worshippers, and welcome! Today the Cult of Cult goes a little more mainstream than usual. It's been a while since i've tackled a big Hollywood superhero film. But I do believe that these sorts of films will be remembered fondly my small groups of people in the future, especially the smaller films that are being overshadowed by the big bad MCU, films like 2018s Bumblebee.

The Messsage

Bumblebee was originally released as a prequel to the Transformers franchise that had started all the way back in 2007. However, reboots had really hit the market as a way to breath new life into struggling franchises, and the Transformers series had already gone to just about every absurd extreme you could imagine. No changes were made to the movie as it was released, but with it's more childish and heartfelt tone, and a new aesthetic that was softer, smoother, and all around just generally more pleasing to the eye, I think it was a wise choice to rebrand Bumblebee as a new beginning.

Our story is of two friends from two very different worlds and how they came together. Our first character is Bumblebee, then known as B- number sign/it doesn't really matter. Not yet Bumblebee is a soldier set with securing a safe location for the Autobots to regroup and make their home as they suffer a pretty serious defeat on cybertron at the hands of the tyrannical Decepticons. Optimus Prime, here again voiced by Peter Cullen and looking so much more like himself, assigns this task to Bumblebee promising him that they will meet him there when the time comes. Then Optimus fucks off for the rest of the run time making way for our little hero.

Bumblebee lands on Earth and is immediately set upon by John Cena and his military goon squad. It probably would have been wise for Bumblebee to avoid John Cena but in his defense, he couldn't see him. Hardy har har. In his attempt to flee his voice box is damaged, he seeks sanctuary by taking the form of a run down little VW bug, and suffers from amnesia.

Then we have Charlie. Charlie is not like other girls. She likes cars, all the retro music, which wasn't retro when the movie takes place, so I'm supposed to just think she's a rocker but it kinda seems like she'll listen to just about anything. I think in 2018 liking Motorhead and The Smiths (who are used ad nauseum in this movie) is perfectly common, but I feel like in the 80s that was a much different and much older attitude to take.

Anyway Charlie's poor family lives in a super fucking nice house and are poor because the dialogue keeps insisting they are so it must be true despite all the shit they have that actually poor people would sell blood and teeth to attain, but hell, this is Hollywood and Hollywood poor is like regular people upper middle class. Charlies family is so poor that instead of giving her a one time graduation/birthday present to buy a part for a car she already has, they just give her a moped, She also spends all her time at a pull apart where the manager (who might be her uncle that wasn't super clear) is willing to just give her a Volkswagen so I don't understand why she didn't already have the project car up and running. Whatever, it's a plot contrivance. All you need to know is that Charlie is tenacious and hard around the edges cuz her dad is dead and she's not yet mature enough to process that in a healthy way. Maybe her character arch will teach her to let others in, we'll have to find out.

There's also a wacky nerd named Memo, and some bad guys, and John Cena. They are all also pretty archetypal and contrived and don't really do anything of note that isn't just filling a beat that this kind of movie needs to walk. Charlie starts Bumblebee up, discovers he's a robot and the two begin to bond. Charlie learns to make a friend, and bumblebee is learning about himself. They get into hijinks and get revenge on a bully girl who makes Regina George look like a saint, she pretty much only picks on Charlie exclusively for having a dead dad.

The moment Bumblebee is woken back up, some technology goof em up that both he and Charlie are unaware of brings two Decepticon baddies into the picture. I don't remember their names, but since I love The Venture Brothers let's say they can be "Jet Boy and Jet Girl". Jet Boy and Jet Girl are sometimes cars, sometimes various flying military vehicles, and they make friends with the deep state and plan to get all the adrenochrome from all the orphans, or just to go find Bumblebee and beat his ass good cuz their bad guys. Let me tell y'all though, Jet Boy and Jet Girl are so bad that they don't even care that the government is listening when they reveal that they are planning on bringing a Decepticon Invasion and after they rough up Bumblebee real good they are going to destroy all life on this planet. So they start by killing a military scientist.

John Cena is after Bumblebee and he's homies with Jet Boy and Jet Girl until the military scientist butt dials him and he hears the evil plan. John Cena goes from heel to face and helps Bumblebee and Charlie save the day. It's a giant CG clusterfuck climax a la any superhero film in the last 10 years and I basically stopped watching. BumbleBee pulls a Hellraiser on Jet Boy, and then he hits Jet Girl with a freaking boat. Charlie uses her diving skills do dive down and save him, but he's a Giant Robot and he was okay and it was literally pointless for her to to except as a way to show that her character has completed her arch by doing the thing that was representative of her connection with her lost father.

Bumblebee turns into the Camaro from the first movie, meets up with Optimus prime, and the stage is set for this prequel to squeeze more prequels out. So it wasn't very creative, but was it bad? Let's find out.

Please Stand to receive the Benediction.

Best Aspect: Transform the Franchise

Bumblebee was directed by Travis Knight of Laika fame and it shows. This movie marks a stylistic change in the transformers franchise, as in it doesn't look like utter dog shit, but it also represents in many ways a tonal shift. It does hold on to a lot of gross sleaze that has unfortunately been forcibly jammed into the DNA of the franchise but it also attempts to be a more heartfelt entry. The characters of Bumblebee might all be sort of a waste of time, but at least they are doing something with emotions, even if the emotions of the characters are only explored as deeply as a children's cartoon I'm glad they are there. In the previous installments the only thing the characters did between running from action piece to seizure inducing action piece was drool over underage girls like a bunch of chimpanzees at the facility where they test experimental E.D. meds. It was nice to see that at least somewhat tampered. This transformers movie feels more like it's for kids and young teenagers, and strangely that more friendly tone makes for a much less juvenile product.

Worst Aspect: Remember I Love the 80s from the 2000s

I hope you really like Stranger Things. I do, but because Stranger Things was so successful it' s going to be everywhere. Not true Stranger Things just 80s nostalgia porn. This 80s nostalgia is going to be forced on you whether you like it or not, and it's not going to be fun. It's gonna be in your shows, in your music, in your Sunday like Bacon in 2010. It's that or Marvel Franchise Brand Whedonisms. Bumblebee is that brave movie that says, "Why not both?" It would seem fitting that a property as quintessentially 80s as Transformers should feel completely comfortable doing a period piece set in the 80's but it's so fucking half hearted it's depressing. It wasn't done to appreciate the roots of the IP, it was done to cash in on a trend and it feels it. All they did was throw up a date and insufferably force an 80s soundtrack down your throat as if that was enough to convince you that this movie needed to be set during this time. Other than that you could have told me this film was set in 2007 and I couldn't tell you any different.

Best Character: Charlie's an Angel

I liked Charlie. Sure her Arc is predictable, her taste is dumb, and she isn't exactly a master of her own destiny to any degree. But at least she is a woman in a transformers movie who's got something going on. Sure she's defined entirely by grief, but that sure is better than pretending that being able to work on cars is a feminist character trait instead of a weird fetish thing. They certainly do that thing with Charlie, but at least it's not the only thing they throw at the wall. Bumblebee is by no means out of the woods in this department, but it garners a lot of goodwill for trying. Like a racist uncle who just started his journey out of ignorance, but hasn't yet realized he has to stop asking mortifying questions to the barista at Starbucks. Okay, maybe that's an extreme metaphor. I'm saying that perhaps Charlie is not a great character but she's a great character for a Transfomers movie.

Worst Character: It's JOOOOHHHNNNN CEEEENA!!!!

Why is John Cena in this movie? I don't hate the guy, but his character seems pointless. You could remove him from the movie completely and replace him with any one of the random military goons at any point and it changes nothing. What was with that dumb salute at the end? It seems like they put him in this movie in post and it was just to pump up cast list. I wish he was given anything to work with. I can't remember his characters name, and it's not like John Cena did a bad job, I was just annoyed every time they kept giving him hero shots. I felt like I was watching a trailer for a different movie.

Best Actor: Optimal Primo!

Every time Peter Cullen speaks I want to listen. There's a reason they haven't had Chris Pratt or somebody with a bigger name come in and take over the role at this point. He's why the audience keep coming back. Peter Cullen IS Optimus Prime, and there's no changing that. He also wins twice. He's the best actor in the movie AND he's barely in the movie. Good call Peter.

Worst Actor: Mean Girls 2, Meaner and Girlier

I don't want to be cruel so I'm not going to go into to much detail, but there's an actress in this film who's performance is so mustache twirlingly evil and stupid that it ruined my suspension of disbelief when i knew going in that i was about to endure a 2 hour toy commercial about robots that turn into cars. Beldar Conehead was a more convincing human being than Tina.

Best Effect: Goo Be Gone

I really appreciated when the bad guys shot the government nerd into a blast of snot. That was pretty fun for me. Best part of the movie hands down.

Worst Effect: Live Action?

Bumblebee is a cartoon. It's a great looking cartoon but it doesn't sell itself that way. If we were doing a Roger Rabbit thing I'd have no gripes. However, I think CG is just getting worse. I'm criticizing this and it's still lightyears better than the previous entry's on the franchise. No transformation or fight sequence in Bumble Bee had me straining to make sense of what I was looking at. I think it was a great idea to start using some basic shapes and outlines to these characters, and return somewhat to their 80s designs. But at certain points, especially when there were no humans in the shot, i was pretty convinced I was watching Clone Wars. There may not be anyway around this, as the Transformers concept might not be able to be pulled off in any more effective manner. It's a minor gripe, but I just didn't think it looked like anything other than a very expensive cartoon, and in this franchise that's a compliment, because it least it looked like SOMETHING!

Best Scene: Space Opera

I am not a Transformers fan. I missed the boat on the cartoon as a kid. I would sometimes catch it at friends houses but I was more into Batman, Star Wars, and Ninja Turtles. By the time I came onto the scene the world had moved on to Beast Wars. I did one day arbitrarily decide that my favorite Transformer was Sound Wave. He looked great in this. I am a big fan of the return to form with a lot of the character designs in this. They really did keep the things that worked from the other adaptations, and they are steadily removing the things that didn't. For this reason, the scenes on Cybertron, particularly the battle with Soundwave (i prefer for personal reasons) looked great and were exciting to watch. I remember thinking Cybertron used to look like a Marilyn Manson shot a music video from inside to dumpster. This is so much better.

Worst Scene: Blocking the Box

There's a scene in Bumblebee where Charlie's family decides the best way to save their daughter was to cause a pile up of vehicles in an intersection, and it's pure contrived writing that saved any character in that sequence from being killed in a horrific traffic accident. It was stupid, played for laughs, and it wasn't exciting as much as it was anxiety inducing. I also thought that there was no reason the covert military group covering up extraterrestrial life wouldn't just disappear this family of fucking morons in their little piece of shit car. The logic of the scene was just so childish like, "No they won't hit me, I'm a good person."

Summary

Bumblebee may be remembered fondly in a decade. I think especially if the Transformers franchise were to end here. It didn't get the publicity of the other films, and that really is a shame. For my money, this was the best Transformers movie so far. I was very tempted to give Bumblebee a C, it does just enough to right what was wrong from the other movies to make me appreciate all that work. This movie has heart, and if you are at all into Transformers then l think you should see it. It's still pretty stupid, and pretty basic. It's not offering anything new to the genre, and it feels like a commercial for more movies. I really wish we could just get movies that want to tell a story. I thought it over and decided that it wasn't fair not to grade Bumblebee on it's own merits. Bumblebee is substantially better than the films that preceded it, but that's not saying a lot, when the films that preceded it are joyless exercises in self abuse.

Overall Grade: D

#Transformers #Bumblebee #Optimus Prime #Action #Adventure #Car #Super Hero #Robot #Scifi #Grade D #D #Grade: D #2018 #2010s #(D)

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rohad93 · 4 years

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Worth the Fight: Chap 4

Early the next morning Luz quickly made her way from the inn to the town square with King trotting along at her side, allowing her to make her way through the crowds easily as people moved to get away from the furry, black beast. Luz rolled her eyes at the occasional witch who would practically dive out of the way at the sight of him, she was sure he seemed amused by it though. Her demonic companion just had a way of conveying himself that was easily translatable for Luz and Eda. She finished stuffing the last of her breakfast of bread and cheese into her mouth and tossed King the last scrap of the dried meat as they walked, he caught it, teeth making a loud snapping noise as his jaws closed around it, making a couple of passerby's jump. Without ever actually talking about it, ownership of King had just sort of shifted to Luz, though Eda claimed she’d never owned him, to begin with, he’d just started following her one day. He'd appeared one night, injured and one of his horns freshly snapped off and fell down at her fireside. Eda had tended to him and he’d just never gone away, just like Luz herself. The older knight seemed to have a way of collecting the hurt and hungry.

The sun had only just risen over the city walls, but already the streets were alive with noise and movement. People hocking things on every street corner, yelling to be heard over the crowds, and the other vendors all trying to shout over each other. It was invigorating actually, the liveliness of it all, especially after the dreary little town of Beldville. That and the fact that she didn’t need to walk around with the hood of her cloak pulled up to cover her ears. No one seemed to even look at her twice as she walked around, they had places to be and stuff to do, no time to be needlessly condescending to her it seemed.

She watched the people as they passed, the market was the obvious melting pot of the city, there were beggars lined along the streets, as there were in every city, but there was also common folk, dressed much like her and nobles, easily identifiable by their manner of dress, not fit to work in, and the way they walked around with their noses stuck up in the air.

What Luz didn't see, no matter where she looked, were humans, not that it was very odd. Luz couldn't remember the last time she'd run into a fellow human, maybe not since her mother had died seven years ago. They had lived away from everyone, human and witch, in a little shack on the edge of the woods, in bothered until…

Luz shook her head, casting away the thought, today was the start of a brand new chapter of her life, she wasn't going to dwell on painful memories today.

She straightened and forcefully shoved those memories to the farthest recesses of her mind and with renewed focus made her way to the center of the market, the jovial sounds of the people around her now sound distant and muffled.

The job boards are easy enough to find, three tall, large wooden plaques on stands in the middle of the town square, sitting in front of a large fountain, with various pieces of parchment tacked to them, advertising people's need for labor.

Luz pursed her lips as she looked at all the different jobs, hope falling quickly as she scanned the papers

The job boards are filled with all kinds of tasks, deliveries, or pickups mostly, but a few odds and ends, such as finding someone's lost rooster or foraging for herbs in the woods, none of which interest Luz in the slightest. She was hoping for something a little more exciting, like fighting the cockatrice the other night had been, but the city seems to be rather lacking in beasts running amok at the moment.

She reached up and scratched her new scar with a blunt nail as she thought about that wild adventure. She would be ready next time. She still needed to study her book when she had the time, but later. She focused on the boards.

It’s mostly a lot of the same grunt work or manual labor. She frowned to herself as she looked over the many papers and even a few wanted posters with silver or even gold rewards, but that’s probably a little beyond her experience, wise at this point, that’s going to be a plan 'Z' right now.

She sighed to herself and pulled the slip of parchment out of her pocket, it had a guy's name and the name of a pub Eda had told her was down by the docks. He was supposedly the go-between for the noble families looking to hire and people looking for work.

She really hadn’t wanted to do that, but Eda gave her and King her last meal this morning, from this point on she had to make her own way or go hungry.

She sighed again and squared her shoulders as she turned to make her way down to the docks, it wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but she needed to eat and maybe if she did enough boring grunt work for some nobles she could save up to give herself a cushion so she wouldn’t need to worry about going hungry while looking for other work that was a little more like what she wanted.

‘Hexside’ is already full of patrons drinking the day away when she arrives.

It doesn’t take her long to find the pub in question, it’s sitting right on the water and it looks like every other pub Luz had ever seen in her seventeen years. A large, building with worn, sun-dried wood and drunkards hanging around out front, looking for money to buy more of their liquid diet. She wrinkled her nose at the briny fish smell that filled the air of the docks as they walked up to the doors.

“Wait here, Bud.” She scratched King’s head, leaving him sitting outside as she wedged her way into the dim watering hole and made a beeline for the bar. For being just after sunup the place is already half full and reeks of alcohol and body odor. She would prefer the fishy smell of the docks.

The barkeep gave her a sideways look as she sidled up to the bar, no doubt looking at her ears, she barely resisted rolling her eyes.

“I’m looking for Morton?” she asked him uncertainly and he nodded toward the back, where a skinny guy in dark brown monk robes and a strange conical hat was sitting at a table, a pile of papers in front of him and a mug of mead in one hand.

She pushed her way through the bar toward the little table in the back.

“Morton?” she called and he looked up, tensing, eyes darting around.

“Who wants to know?” He was looking at her cautiously.

“I’m Luz Noceda, I’m looking for work,” she explained.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, you’re Eda’s apprentice, right?” he asked and she nodded. “Yeah, she said you’d be by, I saved a job for ya.” He flipped through the papers and picked one up. “Guard duty for a noble family.”

“Guard duty?” Luz slumped, disappointed as Morton looked back up at her.

“Look, Kid, this is a well paying and relatively easy job, anyone I’ve seen today would kill for this, but I held it back for you as a favor to E, it’s also the only work I have left for the next couple days, so take it or leave it.”

Luz knows that she needs to work, even if it isn’t exactly what she had in mind, it is work and thus, food in her mouth; that motivates her more than anything.

“I’ll take it.” she took the paper being held out to her.

“Good, the noble family are the Blights'. A lot of their usual guards have been sent across the sea to fight in the war, they need to replace the ones that guard their manor, head over there now, that paper will get you in.”

“Thanks,” Luz nodded and turned to go, paper in hand. King jumped up and followed after her as she walked out the door.

“I guess a job is a job if we want to eat, right, Bud?” she looked down at the furry beast that stood as tall as her waist and patted his head.

She had to stop and ask for directions a few times but finally found the large manor on the eastern side of the city, just outside the main walls on a large plot of land and surrounded by a tall, black, wrought iron fence. It was at least three stories and made of smooth almost white stone.

"I guess this is it…," Luz spoke aloud, mostly to herself, but also to King.

A single guard, not much older than her stood outside the gate, looking bored, but he seemed to perk up as Luz approached.

“State your business.”

“I’m here to see… Hieronymus Bump?” Luz glanced at the paper in hand. Was she saying that name right?

The guard took the paper and looked it over before nodding and handing it back.

“Right, follow me.” He jerked his head and led them inside the gate to the manor doors.

“Stay here, King.” She held up a hand and the beast stayed where he was, sitting just outside the gate as she disappeared inside the manor.

“Whoa…,” Luz mumbled to herself as they stepped inside. The reception area is large with smooth polished stone floors and a large staircase that leads up to the second floor before it splits off to the left and right while the sconces that lined the walls glow with fire that she can tell immediately isn't natural, magic of some kind.

The house seemed to be decorated in a dark green and burgundy color scheme. The banners that line the walls feature both colors, with a serpentine creature that could be a dragon or maybe a malformed snake, twisted across the two fields of color and thorny vines wrapped around it.

The rest of the house is just as lavishly decorated as the entryway and she looked around owlishly at everything as the guard led her down the halls before they finally stopped at a door and he knocked.

“Yes?” a deep voice drifted through the door.

“A new recruit, sir.”

“Send them in.”

The guard gestured to the door before walking away as Luz stepped inside, looking around.

It’s a study, the walls are lined with bookshelves, fit too near bursting, and a desk on the other side of the room, from which a man is sitting behind, looking at her with serious, teal eyes.

“We don’t have all day, come in.” He motioned with a hand and she quickly scurried inside, closing the door behind her and moved to stand in front of the desk. The man was elderly and wearing some kind of creature over his head. Luz had to admit, for all the strange things she had seen over the years, that was a new one.

“Your papers?” he held out a wrinkled hand with long pointed nails. Luz handed over the parchment and he scanned it quickly. “You came for one of the guard positions?”

“I did... um, sir.” she nodded and he finally looked at her, really looked at her, and Luz swallowed thickly as his gaze lingered on her ears. Stupid, rounded ears!

“You are?” he questioned.

“Oh, Luz Noceda… sir!”

“I don’t suppose you have any qualifications?” He drummed his fingers impatiently across the polished wood of his desk.

“I’ve spent the last five years training under Eda, the Owl Knight…,” she trailed off. Eda’s name usually garnered one of two reactions, contempt or reluctantly impressed. She was just that kind of person.

The man’s face turned thoughtful for a long moment, stroking his chin with a hand.

“You’re Edalyn’s student, hmm?” His eyes narrowed. “I take that to mean she’s back in town…, just what we need,” he grumbled tiredly. “Very well, hopefully, you won’t cause half as much mayhem as Edalyn,” he grunted, standing and walking around the desk, hands folded behind his back. “I am Sir Hieronymus Bump, the steward of Blight Manor, I see to most affairs in Lord and Lady Blight’s stead as well as serve as a tutor to their children.” He introduced himself as he came to stand in front of Luz. “You will take your orders from me, or a member of the Blight family, and no one else, understood?”

“Uh, yes sir!” Luz saluted, back going ramrod straight and Bump nodded, pleased.

“Let me outline your duties then, you will stay here, in the guard barracks six days of the week, night and day, to perform guard duty for the manor and family as needed…”

Luz mentally deflated at that, she would need to live here until this job was finished. Maybe this wasn’t the job for her. She was just about to voice as much when Bump continued on.

“Meals will be provided to you and every fortnight you will collect your payment of thirty silver a day from me.”

Luz almost choked on her spit at that. Thirty silver a day? That was… a lot of money, She could put a lot of money away for future adventures and she wouldn’t need to spend any of it on food..

“Understood?” Bump is looking at her with a considering gaze and Luz nodded.

“I understand, sir.”

“Very well, go, collect your things and be back before sundown, I will give you your duties to commence first thing in the morning.” He turned and walked back to his desk at the dismissal.

Luz wasted no time disappearing out the door and back to the front door. King’s ears perked up when she approached, trotting across the yard and through the gate.

“Let’s go, Bud, we gotta tell Eda!” She grinned as they raced back through the city toward the Redstone inn.

She couldn’t believe her luck, sure, it was a far cry from the exciting adventures of slaying monsters or hunting down bandits that she had envisioned, but it was a good place to start, for sure.

Eda isn’t there when they get to the Inn, which she should have expected, she was still out on a job no doubt, but Luz had time, she could wait for her mentor to return before she left.

She gathered up her meager possessions in a sack. Some spare clothes, her new magic book, and a small, wooden box that carried her most cherished possession. She ran her fingers over the smooth wood and smiled sadly to herself before she set it carefully in the bag.

It doesn’t take long before Eda returned, looking haggard from her day doing who even knew what.

Luz immediately launched into her story about the job, sparing no detail. Eda whistled.

“Thirty silver a day? That’s a lot of money to stand around looking like you’re busy. This must be one rich family.” Eda hummed, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

“I’m not going to help you rob them…” Luz frowned, already knowing by the look on Eda’s face what she was thinking.

“You’re no fun,” Eda grumbled, leaning back on the bed, and crossing her arms. “Good job, Kid. You’ll be great.” She grinned.

“Thanks…” she smiled but Eda could see the unsure look on her face and her voice lacked its usual amount of pep.

“What’s the matter?” she cocked her head. Luz shrugged, making a face.

“I guess it just feels real now, we’re not gonna be traveling or staying together anymore, I’m going off on my own… I’m not your apprentice anymore… I’m going to miss you,” she admitted, looking at Eda, eyes glazing over.

“You’re such a sap,” Eda huffed but smiled as she stood from the bed to stand in front of Luz. “No, we won’t. You’re as ready as you’re ever going to be, you just need experience, and you’re not going to get it following me around, but hey, I think I’m gonna stay in town for some time, so as I said, I’ll be around if you need any advice or just miss this lovely face.” She batted her eyes, making Luz snort. Eda slapped a hand atop Luz’s head, even though she was just as tall as her now, a far cry from when they first met five years ago and ruffled her hair. Luz grinned as she did. “But yeah, I’ll miss seeing you every day too, Luz.”

Without warning, Luz threw her arms around the older witch and squeezed, and for once, Eda didn’t complain about the hug, just squeezed her back for a moment before pushing her back to arm's length.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough affection, you got places to be and it isn’t here being emotional all over me,” Eda smirked, planting a hand on her hip.

“Right!” Luz picked her sack up off the bed and tossed it over her shoulder.

“Don’t forget that one.” Eda jerked her thumb at King, laying sprawled out on her bed without a care in the world. Luz nodded and stuck two fingers in her mouth, giving off a high pitched whistle that made King shoot up off the bed and hop to her side. Eda reached out and scratched the spot between his horns.

“You take care of her, furball,” Eda smirked at him.

King seemed to huff in response, but his eyes narrowed pleasurably as she scratched his head.

“Now get outta here, we’ll see each other again before you know it.” She smiled and Luz nodded, smiling back before she turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. She sighed and straightened up as she turned to King.

"Okay Bud, it's you and me against the world, a woman and her demon wolf!"

King let out a deafening bark in response.

"Get out of here already!" Eda's voice called through the door.

Luz laughed to herself as they trotted down the hall and out of the inn.

#Luz noceda #Eda Clawthorne #King #the owl house #toh #fanfic #eventual Lumity

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officialleehadan · 4 years

Text

Eyes of the Ocean

Anita watched Evan swim away, she walked over to quietly lean on the railing next to Eione. The young woman was regarding the water with a wistful expression on her pretty face. “He doesn’t need that snorkel anymore, does he?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Eione murmured, the glint of her eyes just shy of being human if you knew what to look for, and the slightest glitter of scales on her skin when she trailed her fingers in the water longingly. “The kiss takes a few days to wear off, but I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t find him fast enough to save him without it.”

She shifted from one foot to another like the deck was hot under her bare feet, but Anita knew better. Eione was itching to get into the water and she didn’t have time before Evan got back.

“He probably won’t even notice unless he almost drowns again in the next week. He’s a professional. I hope his luck isn’t actually that bad,” Anita teased her, as she always did when Eione had to kiss someone to get them out of a bad situation. “But hey, the kiss of a mermaid, there are worse ways to not die.”

“It’s not really supposed to be for saving people,” Eione stammered. She was a little shy, and her few relationships had all been with people who already knew what she was. “I—I just found him, I wasn’t even sure if he was alive, but his eyes were open a little and…”

“Sweetie, I don't think he would be mad that you used your superpowers to save his life.” Anita cut her off with a grin. “Besides, he’s cute and he likes you. You should say yes if he asks you out.”

Eione turned crimson to the collarbones and stammered something that was probably denial, but Anita wasn’t born yesterday, and she had been around for most of Eione’s romances, both male and female.

“You know, we haven’t had a cave death in a long time, thanks to you,” she added more gently and squeezed Eione’s shoulders. “Those sea caves kill people, but you’ve managed to find them so far, and even managed to avoid being seen while you were at it. Not easy.”

“Knowing the caves helps,” Eione admitted wryly. “And not needing to worry about carrying tanks the way you humans do, that helps too. There are places that are far too narrow for anyone wearing diving equipment.”

Anita chuckled wryly and let her go before she turned back to the steering console and the chest of drinks that sat next to it.

“You’re too modest. Want a juice?” she offered when she turned to dig in the cooler. She tossed Eione a can when she got a nod from her young friend. “I know you want to get in the water. I would ask you to go get me a lobster for dinner, but there’s not time before he gets back into eyeshot.”

“Give me a ride back to my place tonight and I’ll send you home with a good shellfish dinner,” Eione offered, settling on one of the benches with her juice in hand. “It’s on your way, and I have this morning’s catch in a net at home.”

Anita nodded agreeably. “You bring the seafood and I’ll make chowder for us both. I know that cave of yours is a little lacking in the cooking utensils department. You can spend the night at my place.”

The mermaid leaned over to dip her fingers in the water once more, admiring the ripples that trailed behind her small movements.

“That sounds good to me. I’ll just ride home with you and hunt there. My catch at home will keep. It’s still alive,” Eione murmured. She nodded at the water. “Look, there he is. His gear should still be just inside the cave. I left it visible from the top, but he won't go down that far today. I made it look like it got hung up and the straps tore.”

Anita smiled. “That’s my girl,” she said, pleased. “It’s tough to keep the facts hidden, especially from someone who actually knows how those caves work.”

“He knows that something impossible happened,” Eione agreed softly. “And he’s right. He was dying of. I got to him just as he lost consciousness. He was still breathing, but only just. It made him receptive to the song.”

She shook her head ruefully and shoved her hair out of her eyes. “I suppose it’s a good thing he was mostly out already. He isn’t superstitious and he’s a good diver to get so far into the caves, even trapped like he was. I could have been in trouble if he got a clear look at me.”

Anita cocked her head. “That’s true enough. Which song did you use?”

The mermaids had a couple of different songs they could use. Mostly the local mermaids used them to communicate under water over long distances. There were others, too, with different effects on the listener.

“I used one to make him sleep,” Eione explained with another sigh that wasn’t quite human as it caught the breeze. Anita was long used to Eione’s little mermaid noises and ignored it. “He was nearly unconscious already and I needed him to stay that way until he was on land again. Bashing him over the head with a rock seemed like less a good idea.”

That made Anita burst out laughing.

“No, we don't survive that so good,” she grinned as she rummaged in her cooler again. “Getting hungry? I have sandwiches and chips, even a couple beers from the last time I saw Jakob.”

The mermaid made a face. “You keep your horrible fermented barley juice away from me.”

It was a long-standing joke between them. Eione had hated beer from her first taste and didn’t plan to ever have a second. Anita laughed and passed over a ham sandwich instead.

“If I know you, you haven’t eaten since this morning,” she said with long-held exasperation. It was hard to bring up a young mermaid when you weren’t one yourself. “You don’t eat enough to keep that body going with the work you do.”

Eione smiled. “Thank you for the sandwich,” she said. “And I did actually eat this morning.”

Anita cracked a smile as Eione took the sandwich and dug into it. "Not enough, I bet," she griped. “Did you at least eat before you went hunting?”

"While I was out,” the mermaid admitted. “I need to make a groceries run. I'm low on everything.”

The older woman sighed. “Don’t stock up. It won’t be long before you come to stay with me for storm season. I'll take you out or have Thomas do it. You know he loves talking to you.”

Thomas was another of the local fishermen. His grandson was dating Eione’s older cousin. Until he had spotted Eione, Thomas had had no idea that there was more than one mermaid near Andros Island.

“I may not even bother to go shopping,” Eione murmured thoughtfully. “If I come to stay in a day or two, I can hunt and buy my food at the market. It would save me the time.”

“There’s that also,” Anita agreed. “And Thomas is really getting too old to go out and play with the Shoal. I know a few of your outliers still don’t really understand how fragile old humans can be.”

“True,” Eione admitted. “They've been getting so edgy lately; the summer storms will be rolling in soon. It makes us all jittery. Most of them are getting ready to leave for calmer weather.”

Anita shrugged. “Whenever you feel like moving in for storm season, your room is ready.” She assured her friend. “Just make sure to check your suitcase. I don’t want to find any dead snails in it this time.”

Eione giggled. “I’ll come in a day or two,” she promised. “And no more dead snails. I promise.”

“Good,” she said firmly. “Leave your suitcase with me this year. I can always drive it down to you when you need it next.”

The mermaid opened her mouth to agree, but closed it again when Evan hauled himself out of the water and into the boat. He grabbed for his towel and kicked off his flippers with the ease of long practice before speaking.

“I think it’s down there,” he said triumphantly. “I could see something that looked a lot like my rebreather at the bottom, hanging out of the cave.”

Anita grinned and handed him a towel. “Best news all day. Gonna rent some scuba gear, or do you have a set already?”

“Nah, I’ve got mine,” he told her, pulling off his gear and quickly rinsing it in fresh water from the bottle he had brought. “I have it back at the house. This is my backup mask; I hope I can find my old one. I liked it better. I still can’t figure out how it came off.”

“I’ve seen a mask get pulled off by the waves.”

Eione pulled a juice out of the cooler and offered it to Evan, beaming softly when he gave her a grateful smile. He popped it open and gulped half of it down before he set it aside. From beside his feet he pulled out the jug of water he brought and rinsed off his gear, ever the professional.

“Couldn’t have happened to me,” he told Anita, voice muffled as he dried his hair roughly with his towel. “If I was still breathing, and I had to be or I would already be dead, losing my mask should have killed me. I would have breathed water without it and my mouthpiece, and that’s gone too. That’s probably still attached to my rebreather. It’s not easy to detach.”

Evan slung the towel over his shoulder. His navy swimsuit was drying quickly under the hot sun, and he picked up his juice again. He drank it a little more slowly now that he had gotten the taste of salt out of his mouth.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I just don’t know, and it’s driving me crazy. I know what couldn’t have happened, but I don’t know what did. Every scenario I come up with couldn’t possibly be right.”

“Well, something happened,” Anita said blithely, turning the ignition on her boat and getting them moving. Evan was right, of course. It had taken Eione almost three hours to find him. Without her magic, he would have died and his body would have become part of the exhibit he dove for in the first place.

Anita stifled a knowing glance at Eione. Evan was a good man, but she was glad that the truth was so unbelievable. If he ever figured it out, the mermaids could be in a lot of trouble.

+++

HGE - Riptide

Evan Ross survived what no one before him ever has, and now he’s on the hunt for answers. His only clue is a single word that echoed through the water of a flooded cave.

Breathe.

Under Stone

White Sand Sky

The Hint of Answers

Drift to Home

Boats and Salt Wind

+++

More Stories!

+++

#mermaid #mermaids #writing #writer #write #writers #spilled love #spilled ink #spilled words #magic #magical #human galactic empire #humans are deathworlders #humans are weird #humans are space oddities

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poptod · 4 years

Text

The Story of Golden Fish and Red Duck (Ahkmenrah x Reader, Ch. 2)

Ch. 1

Word Count: 5.1k AO3 Link: The Story of Golden Fish and Red Duck

"I cannot begin to tell you how irritating he is," you moaned to Unas, who mostly ignored your complaining in favor of his newest toy. Outside the sun sat low upon the distant mountains, thin clouds adding texture to a smooth, purple blue sky. A gentle breeze blew through the arches built into a wall in his room, billowing silk curtains in soft shapes. Unas had somehow managed to become your friend, which was a rare thing considering your status, but his own father was a scribe, thus the social status was level.

He was, suffice to say, an acquired taste. In fact, he hardly had any friends at all besides you due to the fact that he was far too eccentric in his decisions and, speaking honestly, a little feral. You didn't mind - you'd spend the day at his house, help him tinker away at his art and inventions, tell him a little about your life (and be unsure if he's hearing you the entire time), and end the day with inviting him to yours. Every now and then he took up the offer, showing up at your doorstep in the morning and following you on your trips around the city.

One of the things he adored was, unfortunately, looking through trash. It had confused you at first, as it would most likely do to most people, but, waist deep in torn baskets and cloths, he told you, "if you look through what's broken, you'll find what people need."

From that day forth you realized Unas was far more intelligent than most people gave him credit for.

"This is still the prince we're talking about here, right?" He asked, biting his lip as he carved a very delicate line into the wet tablet.

"Yes. His face makes me want to punch him," you said, leaning back till your head fell off the edge of the couch. Unas tsked, shaking his head, still concentrating deeply on his work.

"Isn't that a little treasonous?"

"Maybe, but it doesn't mean he doesn't deserve it. You agree with me, right? I've told you what he's like," you said, getting up off your back and crouching beside him, your hand on his shoulder. Glancing at you he laughed, ruffling your hair.

"I think I'd have to meet him first before forming any opinions."

"Trust me, you don't want to meet him."

"Perhaps not," Unas said, tapping the end of his utensil on his chin. "Care to go diving?"

"Every time," you said with a grin, the two of you standing up together.

As per usual, people flooded the market, flitting about looking for various spices and cloths. The occasional food carts were always swarmed, massive lines of people queued up for the famous delicacies of Memphis' high markets. Overhead the sun sent cascades of heat down upon the backs of the crowded streets, and at the center of everything, a fountain stood, filled with pristine water that glittered in the light of day. As delightful as the high markets were, you and Unas had a far different destination, which was fortunately rather close to the market.

In a corner of the city that not many ventured to, a good deal of people had taken up the habit of dumping their old and unused playthings and tools into a broken down house. Why, exactly, this had come to be neither you or Unas had any idea, but you were nonetheless thankful for the little treasures that could be found there. On the walk there you fondly recalled finding an entire chest in almost pristine condition, the only fault being the broken hinges. Unas solved that quickly, and from then on that chest was filled with the various things you'd found.

"Anything in particular we're looking for?" You asked as you neared the house, turning the street to see the familiar broken down door.

"I need smooth sticks, and round things," he said, looking a little too excited, rubbing his hands together discreetly.

"Alright then," you said with a shrug, numb to his odd requests in searches.

"While we're doing that," Unas said, opening the door for you, "you can try to tell me about any good traits the prince has."

"Good traits?" You scoffed, doing a quick survey of the bottom floor. "I think that's a little impossible."

"Nothing's impossible," he sang, already dropping to his knees and thoroughly searching through the first section of the house. Grunting your acknowledgement (though not agreement) of his statement, you continued upstairs, letting your eyes drag slowly over the many heaps of broken things. Your method of searching was different from his, much faster and less precise, but the both of you got the job done either way. Downstairs, you heard him mumble a quiet exclamation, smiling to yourself knowing he'd just found something.

Out of the corner of your eye, an object reflected the sun into your eye, catching your attention with squinted eyes. You knelt, fondling the object between your hands. It was jewelry - that or a part of a machine you couldn't even begin to fathom.

Unas would like this, you thought to yourself, before quickly thinking, I like this too. The gold in your palm was malleable, fitted onto a string that would allow it to hang delicately from the neck. In the center of it, an amethyst the size of your nose sat, encased in a silver that held a mass of smaller, blue gemstones.

Another exclamation from downstairs, this time louder, caught your attention, and you quickly pocketed the treasure. Running down the stairs, you stood beside Unas, who was still knelt in the dirt.

"Look at this! A perfectly good mirror," he said, his smile wide and toothy. With a chuckle you sat beside him, taking the mirror from him when he offered and tracing the delicate carvings made into the silver of the handle.

"You could just buy a mirror, you know," you said thoughtlessly, still examining the mirror. Besides some decay and dents, it was in perfectly good shape, though your reflection was foggy at best. "Just needs some cleaning," you murmured to yourself.

"I know, but this one's free, and I think it's real silver," he said excitedly, taking the mirror back from you and putting it in his bag.

"Could just be encased in silver, but, let's keep hope. I found something too, actually," you said, remembering the necklace in your pocket. As you took it out, a soft gasp left him, his thumbs swiping over the gold.

"Besides being ugly as all hell, this has to be worth something," Unas laughed, nodding in a pleased way as you pocketed it once more.

"I suppose you are right," you grunted as you stood, "but you can't deny today was a good haul."

"Ah, ah," he tsked, shaking his head. "Not over yet."

He sent you back upstairs, where you proceeded to find several bits of metal and, to his great appreciation, a few smooth sticks that must've been part of a toy once. Downstairs, though more plentiful, had less things of actual value, but when compared to your different searching methods, the work was split evenly.

At the end of the search you convened at the front door of the house, leaning on the door frame and showcasing your different findings. It had been an excellent day to go - Unas even found a door hinge, which was a rather rare thing to find without an entire door attached to it. Hinges were great for toys, though you had a hard time thinking of any other use for them. That's where Unas excelled; his imagination towards objects and their uses was nearly astronomical, and you had a great confidence that he would grow up incredibly successful.

"Feel like celebrating?" You asked, letting him take what you'd found and put it in his bag for easier carry.

"Absolutely. I vote Nizism's place," he agreed with a smile, leading the way through shortcut alleys and into the marketplace.

Hidden away in the busy crevices of the streets, Nizism owned a bakery that was a secret treasure to you and Unas. Not many people knew about him and his shop, despite the fact that he was probably the best baker out there, and as much as you and Unas wanted him to do well in life, it felt good to have something not many people knew about. It was, perhaps, the same reason you never told anyone about your 'dumpster diving,' as the general populace referred to it as. Nizism knew every customer by name, which was easy since his regulars numbered few, and just like every other time, it was mostly empty when you entered.

The building itself was small, the furnace inside visible to all customers, a loaf of sweetbread slowly baking away inside it. You weren't an especially tall person (in fact, you were a rather short person), but even to you the ceilings were a little low - that made it easy to climb up to the roof, which you always kept in mind in case you needed to hide. Sitting in the corner, absently filing different sheets of papyrus, a man you'd seen a few times before sipped at his beer, the frothy drink coating his upper lip when he set the mug down. Nizism stood behind the counter, smiling at you when you entered, his hands balancing his weight against the firm stone of the counter. On several different plates, his menu sat beside him, the many versions of his breads and pastries on display for you to pick from.

"I'll have a date loaf," you told him, keeping your tone polite and happy. Unas, on the other hand, spent a good deal of time deciding what he wanted to have. By the time you'd paid and taken off a chunk to eat (the rest of it was for your family), he had narrowed it down to two options.

"Um... I think.. yeah, I'll have three tiger nut sweets," he finally decided, pulling coins out of his bag and paying.

"Sounds good," Nizism said, putting the three small dumplings into a bag, taking Unas' coin and wishing him a good day.

The two of you walked back into the sunlight, wandering aimlessly through the busy market as you nibbled away at your congratulations treat, which wasn't very hard at all to earn. One of Unas' favorite activities, besides looking through the dump house, was going from stall to stall and getting inspiration for what he might want to build or make. He favored toy stalls, the different mechanics of them always interesting him. Oftentimes he'd take up a good deal of time just talking to the owner of the stall, discussing how they were made, where they were from, the technology and skill required to craft such things, and by the time Unas was in the middle of a long speech, the merchants always looked tired. At that point you would hint to him that the owner needs to sell these things and you're not buying, which would make him leave fast enough, always adding a thank you onto the end of his speech.

This time his attention was caught by a hygiene cart, filled with mints, toothbrushes, mirrors, razors, and more, all of which you already had at home. Unas, being Unas, was far too interested in how the right formula had come about for a breath mint.

"So you use cinnamon to flavor it?" He asked, picking up one of the mints and examining it.

"No, well - yes, but I don't make them, as I said earlier. They're from Tanis," the shopkeeper explained, already looking a little weary.

"Tanis? That's a long way to travel just for breath mints."

"I live there. A family friend of mine makes these things and I bring it here so it'll sell better," he said, pinching at his skin.

"Unas? I think it'd be best if we go now," you whispered to him, a gentle hand on his back leading him away from the stall.

"Right, sorry," he mumbled, thanking the man for his time as you took him away.

"You need to work on that a little more," you said, back in the bustle of moving from stall to stall.

"But I want to learn more about what they do," he whined, his shoulders sagging as he followed you, eyes darting yearningly towards each newfangled thing.

"Then just ask them simpler questions. I'm fine with you talking my ear off, but not everyone is."

He agreed in a murmur, his mood obviously dampened, but he kept his energy up as you continued on your way. It was a great thing you appreciated about your friendship - one could bring up faults in the other, and the situation would be handled in a mature fashion in which no one's feelings got hurt.

"Oh, death totems!" You exclaimed when the sight of them caught your eye, dangling from the window and doorway of a shop building. You hadn't ever seen it before, which was a little confusing, considering something so attuned to your tastes was rare to come by. Almost leaving Unas behind, you drove through the crowd, slipping between people till you came to the front of the store.

"You know," Unas said, panting at the exertion, "you could at least tell me when you're going to run off."

"Hm? Oh, sorry, I... got a little caught up. Look at these," you said, marvelling at the craftsmanship. Hanging at the end of the long line of dolls lay a figurine of Medjed, who had been your favorite god for as long as you could remember. Unfortunately he wasn't a very well known or heavily worshipped god, meaning anything in dedication to him was scarce to come by - this was the exact reasons your eyes lit up the way they did, gasping as you rushed towards it, taking the doll off the hook and handling it. Medjed the Smiter he was called, though in such a small form it was hard to imagine him hurting anyone.

"Look at that!" Unas said, almost impressed as he nodded. "You should definitely get it."

You agreed easily with him, and a few short minutes later you had Medjed dangling from your finger, Unas leading the way to your next stop. The two of you found a brief respite from the blazing heat overhead in the next store, which happened to be a clothing store, stocked to the brim with different skirts, shawls, shendyts, and various bracelets.

"What's so special about this place, then?" You asked quietly, looking down the various shelf aisles.

"Did you see the green skirt lining?" He said, gesturing with his head in the general direction. Casting your gaze that way, it quickly caught your attention, the color brighter and more vibrant than any other you'd seen.

"Wow," you commented.

"Yeah, I have questions too," he said with a chuckle, coming up to the counter and starting his usual long conversation with the teller. This time the shopkeeper looked interested, happily telling Unas about his techniques, even adding in extra information Unas didn't ask about, which delighted him. Deciding that the two of them would be fine together, you meandered through the shop, soon coming across a sight you wish you hadn't seen.

"Goldie," you gritted out, your gaze instantaneously turning from neutral to pissed off.

"Oh, hello," Ahkmen said cheerfully, grinning and waving at you. "What are you doing here?"

"Like I'd tell you," you said, letting your angered glare follow him as he walked past you.

"Mm, that's fine since I don't really care."

"You're an ass, I hope you know that."

"You tell me that every time we see each other, of course I remember," he said, still smiling, something that's always managed to throw you off. Several items of clothing sat on his arm, a stack almost as wide as your face and drooping down to his knee.

As he went through the aisles, he took shirts off the shelves carelessly, tossing them onto his arm or over his shoulder. Confused, you followed after him, not even bothering to look like you weren't doing it. Looking back at you he smirked, somehow satisfied that you were intrigued enough that you didn't leave.

"What in the hell are you doing?" You finally asked when he put four bracelets onto his arm.

"Aw, are you starting to care about me?" He said in a baby voice, his lower lip pouting as he turned to you.

"I swear to god, just -" your anger, combined with the urge to punch him in the face, dissipated in a split second when his face fell from joking to terrified.

"Hey! Put those down!" The shopkeeper yelled over the quiet murmur of the store, instantly catching the attention of everyone inside it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, grab everything and run!" Ahkmen said in a panic, handing you everything in his arms and grabbing all that he could get his hands on, haphazardly collecting it in his arms as he bolted out of the store.

"What the -" Unas said, just as confused as you were, but you had little time to debate his reaction. The shopkeeper leapt over the counter, going straight for you as though you'd done something wrong, and then it hit you - it definitely looked like you were in cahoots with Ahkmen. As much as you hated the idea, you hated being in trouble more, thus set out in a dead sprint, following Ahkmen through the crowd.

Behind you followed Unas, who was a much faster runner than the shopkeeper. He caught up quickly, helping you carry the load without question as the shopkeeper pulled a dagger out of his sheath.

"Oh my fucking Gods," you murmured to yourself as you kept running, trying to keep up with the golden robes Ahkmen wore, whipping around the corner when you saw him turn.

I'm going to get stabbed because of this idiot, you thought to yourself, still watching Ahkmen.

You almost ran past the bakery, the one you had been peacefully eating at only an hour or two ago, grabbing the back of Ahkmen's cape to get his attention.

"Up this way," you said, throwing the clothing up on the low roof and using your adventuring skills to scale the wall and get on the roof.

"I didn't know you could do -"

"Fucking move, he's right fucking there!" Unas yelled, pushing Ahkmen up the wall. Glancing quickly to find the shopkeeper barreling towards him, Ahkmen threw his clothes up on the roof, grabbing your extended hands to escape from the mans' wrath, immediately helping Unas up once he'd gotten safely up.

"Come on, it doesn't take much to get up here. He'll follow soon," you said, grabbing the clothes and using the little time alloted to you to stuff a good chunk of the clothing and bracelets into Unas' bag, giving a fair amount to Ahkmen and carrying the rest in your arms.

With a quick nod Ahkmen set off, you and Unas behind him as the three of you continued to scale several different buildings, ducking behind barrels and alleyways until the shopkeeper was in the distance, far, far away from you. Gasping and panting you sat on the ground, Unas kneeling beside you just as exhausted. Ahkmen let his head fall back, laughing towards the sky, weary but delighted.

"What just happened?" Unas asked quietly, his voice breaking.

"You just helped me," Ahkmen said, laughing as though it was a great achievement.

"I will reign hell upon you, Gold fish," you said, trying to get your breathing under control.

"Wait - wait, wait, this is the prince?!" Unas questioned, recognizing your nickname for him immediately.

"I'm Ahkmen, nice to meet you," Ahkmen said with a polite smile, shaking Unas' hand as he introduced himself.

"Unas. I've heard a lot about you."

"Good things I hope, though, knowing Ducky..." sly eyes turned to you, and you had to press your lips together to stop yourself from yelling at him.

"Ducky?" Unas said, breaking out into laughter at your nickname.

"Shut the fuck up," you grumbled, letting your head relax against the shaded wall behind you. "Now tell us what the hell we just did."

"Only for a kiss," Ahkmen said, puckering his lips.

"I'm serious! We just stole from someone, why?!"

"Oh fine. You're no fun," Ahkmen said, sitting down across from you, Unas sitting in between the two of you. "That man you were talking to, the shop owner, his name is Kek. He doesn't make a thing in that store. He 'hires' a bunch of immigrants and doesn't pay them enough, they hardly have enough money to wear the cheapest of the clothes they make. These," he grabbed one of the skirts, holding the white cloth out in front of him, "are for them."

You paused, unsure if you were to believe him or not. On one hand, he hadn't ever really lied to you before, but on the other he was a prince. People like him weren't ever interested in the wellbeing of those they deemed lesser than themselves, too absorbed in their own self image and pleasure to see the suffering of others.

"You... stole.. for immigrants?" You murmured, wondering if you were hearing him right. He nodded, confirming that yes, your ears were in fact working.

"Couldn't you have just bought them clothes, or gotten them out of that situation? You're a prince," Unas asked, his brow furrowed in his confusion.

"It's more poetic like this, and I can't really remove them from the situation unfortunately. That type of power is reserved for my father," Ahkmen explained. "I'd love to help more, but I can't without alerting my father, and he doesn't like immigrants. Well, he does, but for the wrong reasons."

"Why does he like them?" Unas asked.

"He likes them to work for him. For free," Ahkmen said with a grimace, his eyes dull as he thought about his father's political views.

"Ah," Unas mumbled.

"I don't know if I believe your story," you said, voicing your worry, one that Ahkmen was quick to deny.

"Come with me, then. I'm taking these to them now, then you never have to see me again," Ahkmen said, almost smiling as he picked up the clothes he had dropped.

Unsure, you glanced at Unas, who seemed fully on board with the idea. With a sigh you gathered your own pile of clothing, following Ahkmen down uninhabited streets and alleyways, staying as hidden as it was possible for a young man dressed in gold fiber.

"You could do with more discreet clothing if you're off doing reckless shit like this," you mumbled to him, the three of you crammed into a tight space between hay carts.

"Yes, but I look so much better like this," he said with a wink, settling his cape over your shoulders. You grumbled, shaking it off of you and scooting as far away from him as you could without revealing your position to the drivers.

Continuing on your way, you managed to escape the sights of several palace guards who apparently knew Ahkmen well, evaded general capture and had what could be classified as a good time (you loathed to call anything with Ahkmen a 'good time') all the way to the slums.

Despite how much you and Unas got out and wandered around Memphis, one place you basically never ventured to was the slums. This was for a variety of reasons, most of which were rules your fathers had put in place; sick stirred on every street, the mess was apparently horrid, kindness was alien to them, and no one had self respect. That was what your father told you, at least - what Unas' father told him was a mystery to you. What you found was a little surprising, though you should've put it together long before then; there was far more humanity in those with little than in those with everything.

"It's... different, than what I expected," you murmured, mostly to yourself, but the words caught Ahkmen's ear. Unas was far too engrossed in a little boy showing him his toy ox to pay any attention to you.

"What were you expecting?" Ahkmen asked, for once not teasing or prodding you.

"I don't know," you said, knowing full well you both knew what you were expecting. Trash. Stewing sickness. Instead, it was tired mothers and children who worked too hard for too little, still wearing smiles as they ran around with their friends. From inside one house music came, the sound of beats against wood, the vocalizations of an entire family humming in harmony with one another. Ahkmen smiled, just barely, as he watched your near amazement.

"This way," he said softly, grabbing your wrist and leading you along. Caught up in the moment, you didn't think to rip yourself away from his grip, letting him carry you past the many houses till you came to large tent shelters near the city wall.

It was warm inside - that was the first thing you noticed. Unbearable, sweltering heat that dampened your clothes and stuck heavy against your skin. You almost remarked about it, but Ahkmen was focused, and any word you might've said would've slipped past him. What must've been hundreds of people filled the area, many of them children with babies in their arms. In each place you looked there were makeshift beds, containers of communal foods laying about in a disorganized manner. Following him, you came to the back of the large tent, where a very stressed-looking man stood, pacing back and forth as he mumbled to himself.

This had to be something you'd been warned about; people who talked to themselves, who weren't connected with the real world. Your father warned you that they were dangerous, but when Ahkmen got his attention and he smiled pleasantly at the prince, your worry faded into nothing.

"I brought you these, um..." he grabbed your arm, hauling you away from watching the population in the tent to showcase the clothes you were carrying. "There's another coming, I'm not sure where he is but he's got lots more."

"Thank you. Thank you," the man said, an unidentifiable accent heavy on his tongue as he bowed his head.

"I'll see what I can do about getting you unionized. That way you'll be able to really fight for your rights," Ahkmen said, smiling as he patted the man's shoulder, who looked like he didn't fully understand what Ahkmen was saying, but was nonetheless grateful.

"You're a very kind boy," was what he said, a phrase you could hardly believe was about Ahkmen, but considering the course of events that day, your image of him was swaying.

"Not really. But thank you anyways," he said.

Turning back to you, he smiled curtly, leading the both of you out of the tent in search of Unas. He acted as though everything was normal, still making tiny jabs at your self esteem as the two of you scanned the streets for your friend. It didn't take long till your curiosity broke loose, unable to take a second more without knowing the truth behind his actions.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked, stopping the both of you from walking and stepping to the side, out of the main road.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, helping these people. It's such a noble thing, but you're... I didn't... I don't know, you don't really seem like the saint type."

"I guess I don't really know either, but it is fun to be fair," he said, and your new image of him shattered. Of course he was doing it for fun, why else would a prince help the poor?

"Let's just get this done and never talk to each other again," you grumbled, sighing as you resumed your search. With a shrug he joined you, and in a few minutes you found Unas exactly where he was before, discussing the dynamic between Nephthys and Isis to a seven year old.

"But, you see, even though their separate marriages were -"

"Unas? What are you doing?" You asked, mildly amused but mostly horrified.

"Hm? Just talking to this kid, her name is Tabia, say hi," he said as he made to stand, brushing the dirt off himself as he stood beside you.

"Hi, Tabia," Ahkmen said, grinning as he knelt to her height. "I like your doll."

"Thanks," she giggled, her cheeks tinting rose as she pulled at the edges of her ratted dress.

"Come now, we're taking the clothes to this tent up here," you mumbled to Unas, not wanting to watch Ahkmen. Your idea of who he was kept changing rapidly, and you were getting pretty sick of it - it should've been simple. He was an asshole, he would always be an asshole, and that would never change.

"Good, this bag's been weighing me down," Unas said, following you to the tent.

By afternoon you were trying to say your hurried good-bye's to Ahkmen, trying to get Unas to speed up his farewell. Unas didn't feel the same way you did about Ahkmen, which you convinced yourself was due to the fact that Ahkmen was acting strange all day. More kind than he usually was. Still, you couldn't control Unas, and thus you remained in Ahkmen's presence until sunset, which by that point you were fully irritated with the man.

"By the way, don't mention any of this to my father, should he ask. I'm not technically allowed outside the palace. Until we meet again, Ducky," he said, shooting a playful wink in your direction, earning him a middle finger from you.

"I don't know what you dislike about the man," Unas said, shaking his head as the two of you walked back to his house.

"You don't know? How about all the times he teased me, and that awful nickname? Plus, he's just annoying, you know that vibe you get when someone's really, really annoying but you don't know why? That's him. He's the embodiment of that emotion," you ranted, gesturing harshly with your hands while you spoke.

"I've had more fun today than I do most days with you," Unas said.

"That's because I don't do illegal things," you hissed, poking his chest with your finger as you stood outside his door.

"Well then. Maybe you should start," he said with a smirk all too alike Ahkmen's, entering his house and shutting the door before you could yell at him.

#ahkmenrah x reader #ahkmenrah x male reader #Ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah x female reader #rami malek #Night at the Museum #rami malek x reader

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et-lesailes · 5 years

Text

foreign

pairing: ari levinson (chris evans in red sea diving resort, 2019) x reader

themes: light angst, fluff

word count: 2100

summary: you are visiting family in the capital of sudan, and while shopping in the marketplace for groceries, you are approached by a group of intimidating men and women around the same age as you. they are beginning to harass you more and more until thankfully, a handsome man comes to your rescue, even offering to stay with you while you finish up your shopping.

taglist: @viarogers, @evanstush, @chibi-crazy, @chalamet-evans, @world-of-losers, @songforhema

note: requested by anonymous // this was really cool to write in that it was nice to touch a little on more social issues! tbh i used my own experiences with my ethnicity and traveling for this fic, so that was pretty reflective for me to incorporate. hope you guys enjoy this!

** please send an ask if you would like to be added to my taglist of any chris evans related fics!

You looked around the semi crowded food market somewhat nervously, now regretting that you didn’t ask your brother to come with you. You hated feeling this way in your own native country, but as a half Sudanese, half Caucasian female, you stuck out in Khartoum, the capital of Sudan and where your father’s parents resided. Having been born and raised in the United States, it was easy for you to forget that the simple act of grocery shopping was, unfortunately, not so simple here. You felt everyone’s eyes on you, both men and women alike-- staring at your outfit that practically screamed you were American, either giving you judgmental glances or… creepy ones.

You tried to focus on the kinder citizens around you, relieved that at least some were giving you welcoming smiles; all you had to do was buy some fresh vegetables for dinner and walk back to your grandparents’ house-- it was practically right across the street. You’d be okay. Making your way to one of the stands, you smiled as you gazed upon the variety of produce before you, using the opportunity to actually take in the culture surrounding you. You genuinely appreciated your background and ethnicity, and you loved having the privilege of visiting the country your own father grew up in.

Unfortunately, you were soon brought out of your reverie, interrupted by a small group hovering a little too close to you. You tried to believe they were simply checking out the fruits and vegetables before you, but you soon started to realize it was you they were checking out. Barely turning your head to try and sneak a more proper glance at them, you were slightly shocked to see that there were also a couple of girls within the small horde of twenty something year old men staring you down. Why weren’t they saying anything? Their amused smirks sickened you; did they support this unnecessary ogling? Feeling unsettled, you moved to a different stand, silently praying they wouldn’t follow. When they did, you felt yourself internally panicking. You started focusing on the potatoes in front of you a little too intently, hoping that they’d decide you were far too boring and not worth their time. Instead, you felt a rough hand squeeze your waist in an attempt to get your attention, your eyes immediately widening. “Hey!” you exclaimed, turning around now met face to face with one of the men, trying not to look as nervous as you felt. “Don’t touch me…”

"What's wrong? You don't want to get your pretty clothes dirty by our filthy hands?" one of the girls jeered at you, and you looked at her shocked, slowly shaking your head incredulously. "No, I'd just rather not be grabbed by a stranger," you couldn't help but defend yourself; you were scared, but you would still stand up for yourself, and you at least felt a little better that you were in a public place. "Oh come on," the other girl scoffed, "we know your type. You think you're better than us. It's written all over your face."

"Now, now," the same man who grabbed you chuckled lowly before you could even reply, "be a little nicer to the little tourist, girls. She's cute, so I definitely have no issues with her." You frowned and stepped away from him, glaring at all of them trying to look as fearless as possible. "I'm really not interested, and my family lives right across the street, so please leave me alone." The girl laughed, only firing in return, "Oh, are you going to cry to Mommy and Daddy? Come on, a little foreigner like you doesn't know how to have some fun? So boring." You narrowed your eyes slightly, starting to get more heated until one of the other boys came up to you from behind, grabbing your waist and pulling you to his body. "That's okay, we can teach her." He spoke with a devious tone, and your anger slipped off your face, fading into an expression of more anxiety upon feeling his hands hold you so tightly. "Stop it! Let go of me!" you tried speaking loudly in order to catch the attention of other market goers, but your voice was drowned out by the music, your presence barely noticeable amongst the bustling crowds too focused on their shopping needs. You were about to have a full on panic attack as the man started pulling you along with him, but you suddenly felt him stumble backwards with a somewhat violent jerk, almost falling down along with him-- until a pair of arms caught you, helping you straighten back up.

"Hey! You heard her, leave her the fuck alone!" You looked up with slightly wide eyes, seeing an older man with somewhat shaggy brown hair accompanied with a rather scruffy beard. He was staring down the group of delinquents with stern eyes, somewhat reminding you of the demeanor of a disappointed and upset dad. "Get out of here, all of you. This is a marketplace for God's sake, there are children here-- have some class." You exhaled in relief as the group gave both of you one last scowl before turning around and walking away, grumbling under their breaths what you were sure were countless obscenities and curses aimed towards you. Returning your attention to your savior, you gave him a small smile, though somewhat cautious-- your brain was on alert mode now, making you slightly paranoid that he may have only saved you to have you for himself. However, a mere few more seconds of looking at him told your instinct otherwise, seeing the concern and even gentleness in his sharp eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked you, turning to face you properly, and you nodded your head only just now realizing your heart was racing. "Yeah, just a little shaken up," you admitted, taking a deep breath but giving him a more thankful smile. "Thank you. So much. I-- I'm not used to being here, if you couldn't tell." You could not help but be interested by him; he did not appear to be Sudanese, given his light colored skin, but considering you did not exactly look neither African nor Caucasian, you could not assume.

He chuckled lowly, running a hand through his hair. "No worries. It can be difficult the first time here." He looked at you for a few moments, almost as if thinking deeply, before holding his hand out. "I'm Ari. If you want me to accompany you while you're shopping here, I'd be more than happy to." You couldn't help but feel slightly touched at his kind offer, immediately nodding hopefully as you placed your hand in his and introduced yourself. "I would really like that, actually. Thank you..."

_____________________________

How this man named Ari Levinson had gone from saving you from borderline sexual harassment at a marketplace to sitting at the dining table of your grandparents' home, you had no idea, but you could not say you were displeased with this. He had showed you all types of foods you had never even heard of before, resulting in him helping you carry said foods you couldn't help but buy, resulting in your naturally hospitable grandparents immediately inviting him to stay for dinner. As you all ate dinner together, you learned he was in Sudan for work, though he was rather vague when it came to explaining what it was that he did. However, you did not miss the discreet look he gave you, somehow understanding that he was silently telling you he would explain later. Overall, he was fun to talk to, and he had several interesting stories about all the places he had traveled to-- you could tell your family was impressed, as well, and even your generally overprotective brother had to admit he liked the guy, especially because of what he had done at the market.

Dinner was soon over and you knew Ari would have to get back to his hotel; you were sad to see him go, but you supposed you couldn't have expected the two of you to be permanent friends after one encounter in a country thousands of miles away from your own. "I'll walk you out," you told him as you forced a smile, waiting until he and your family were done with their goodbyes before heading out the door with him. "Thanks again for everything," you spoke softly, looking up into his blue hues with a more genuine smile, barely nibbling on your lip. "This was a lot of fun tonight." He smiled down at you, and while you had taken into account hours ago that he was quite attractive, he looked even more handsome under the moonlit sky, the twinkle in his eyes even more illuminated than before. "Thank you for having me. Your family is so kind," he replied before sighing softly, looking around then bringing his attention back to you. "About earlier... I can't tell too many people-- hell, I actually wasn't even supposed to tell you my real name. But I couldn't help myself. You just seem trustworthy. I dunno, call it a gut instinct kinda thing." You looked at him in surprise, now wondering if you had somehow befriended a criminal on the run, a prison escapee-- your thoughts were getting ahead of you and this was apparently written all over your face as he let out a little scoff of amusement. "Easy there, I'm not dangerous. Well, not to you, anyways," he said with a playful wink, and you hated yourself for blushing. "Okay, then what is it? Should I even trust that Ari Levinson is your real name?" you teased, partly in an attempt to distract him from seeing the red on your cheeks. It didn't seem to work, however, as he suddenly reached down to caress your cheek, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "It is. I can't really bring myself to lie to you, for some damn reason, when lying is basically a part of my job." Lowering his voice to a whisper, he continued, "I'm an agent. I'm here in Sudan on a mission I unfortunately really can't go into detail on, and I came to Khartoum for a couple nights to get more supplies for said mission." Your face must have been amusing to him because he suddenly laughed, stroking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Do you think I'm making all of this up? I swear, I'm not... I can show you my ba-"

"No, no," you quickly cut him off; sure, showing you his badge would have only taken two seconds, but you felt a strange, overwhelming sense of trust for this man you had met only hours ago, and you wanted him to know that. "I believe you. I promise. I just..." you trailed off, somewhat shy to keep going, but upon seeing his expectant look, you did. "I'm going to miss you. I really liked spending time with you today. I-- I don't know, it's so weird but I just feel like I've known you for years." He was listening to you intently, a smile crossing his lips as he stepped closer to you. "You don't have to miss me," he murmured, cocking his head, "Do you have your phone on you? Mine died." You blinked and shook your head, frowning. "I left it inside, let me go--"

"No. I don't want you to leave." He cut you off, not even realizing the blush that had returned on your cheeks because of his words because he was too occupied looking around for something. Grinning, he suddenly picking up a stick and walking over to a nearby patch of dirt. Scratching a series of numbers into it, he looked to you with a charming smile, arching an eyebrow. "Better get your phone and save that fast, doll, before the wind or some animal messes it up. But first." He came back over to you, suddenly taking your waist in his large hands and pulling you to his body, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. You kissed him back happily, smiling against his lips while wrapping your arms around his neck; you were more than ready to take it further, your mind too hazy to even realize you were standing outside your grandparents' home, for God's sake-- until he suddenly pulled back, the same mischievous grin on his face. "I'll come see you tomorrow before I leave, pretty girl. We can continue this then. Until then, you better dream of me tonight." He gave you another rough but brief kiss, then moved his lips to your forehead in a more tender peck before walking off, leaving you speechless, breathless, frustrated, yet ecstatic at the same time.

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fanfic #chris evans imagine #chris evans #chris evans fic #angst #fluff #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson drabble #chris evans drabble #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you

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qm-vox · 4 years

Text

So You Want To Play Hades

I spent six hours coming up with that title because I have problems in my mind which I refuse to either examine or resolve.

So, Hades! The latest work from Supergiant Games, who brought you the interactive soundtracks to Bastion, Transistor, and Pyre, all superb games in their own rights known for their intuitive gameplay, build-your-own-hard-mode difficulty style, incredible atmosphere and characterization, thought-provoking stories, and that sexy, sexy fuckin’ music.

Like, listen to this sometime it’s amazing (all of their soundtracks are available from them on Youtube, by the by, though if you like ‘em you can support the creators by buying the music from them directly too):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uH3Aoj1nw58

You’re likely asking, quite reasonably, why in the infinite and undying fuck I’m writing this post right now, and the long and short of it is I want more people to talk Hades with so now y’all are gonna get hit with the sales pitch and what I hope will be a helpful beginner’s guide if you decide to get into the game. Let’s get into that first part, shall we?

Thou Shalt Subject Your Gods To Market Forces

(Image sourced from Supergiant’s website)

Hades is an action-roguelike/lite that places you in the role of Prince Zagreus, secret son of Hades. Zag is trying to move out of his father’s house and live somewhere else for awhile and, well, Dad’s just being an entire dick about the whole thing. Hades challenges you to face down the endless ranks of the dead one chamber at a time, gathering the resources you need to breach upward through the Greek underworld and open the mighty gates into the living world. You can acquire it on Steam or on the Epic Store.

How do you know if Hades is or isn’t for you? If you like action games with tight controls and widely varied playstyles, we’ve got you covered here (if you’re thinking in terms of previous Supergiant offerings, Bastion has the most bones in). Hades also offers a great character-focused narrative, centering around the relationships Zagreus has and develops with the people around him - from legendary shades like Achilles and Sisyphus, to the gods of Olympus, to the cthonic gods of the underworld like Charon, Nyx, and the Furies - which fully incorporates the conceits of the genre. Unlike many roguelikes which sorta quietly elide failed runs or deaths, Zag’s defeats are part of his journey. After all, he’s already in the underworld. Where the fuck else is he going to go when he dies? Connecticut?

Though I can gush about the characters and narrative all day (and I’ll do it a bit more later), don’t get me wrong: Hades expects you to perform some pretty tight mechanics. Since dying is just the end of this run and not the game, the game feels pretty free to take brutal measures; the environments you move in are full of deadly traps, the seething ranks of the dead outnumber you to vast degrees, and you’ll fight a dizzying mix of opponents who do not hesitate to catch you in cross-fires, push you into lava, or drop bombs when you kill them because fuck you for succeeding you weird godling bastard. If you get easily frustrated or flustered, Hades may be quite stressful for you; before it’s anything else, it’s an action game with a heavy focus on combat, and if you decide to ride this train that’s the price of the ticket. If you relish the challenge and especially if you like the satisfaction of watching your play improve, though, it’s one hell of a ride.

In terms of accessibility features, Hades is a mixed bag. It has subtitles and aim assistance available, as well as a variety of supported languages and control adjustments which can alter how you do things like dash or attack, but it’s missing, for instance, a colorblind mode (and that’s gonna be important here in a minute), and many enemy behaviors & traps have audio cues which are not part of the current subtitle support. A rumble feature for controllers that have it is supported; Hades strongly suggests the use of a controller, but I know several players who choose to use a mouse & keyboard and seem to prefer it. Semi-recently, a God Mode option was added which empowers you when it’s turned on and does so further every time you die; it’s the closest Hades comes to an ‘easy’ mode, and while reception of it from my fellow players has been highly positive I’ve not tried it for myself.

If you’ve liked action games in the past, I’d highly endorse giving Hades a try as long as it’s accessible for you. The current build of the game (just before formal release) is selling at $24.99 USD on Steam right now, and like...I am not a highly skilled Gaming Individual(tm). I lose at games a lot. I play most of my games on Easy or maybe Normal if I’m really feeling like my dick is big - and with that in mind, I loved this one enough to buy it twice. I love the tight feeling of the combat, the way the mechanics feel, its gorgeous environments and its captivating characters. Hell, that’s why I’m out here writing a whole-ass article.

Stealth, Guile, Subtlety, And Other Things You Will Not Need - Getting Started In Hades

(Artwork sourced from the Hades wiki)

So you’ve decided to acquire Hades, you already own it, or the first part of this article was intriguing enough for you to look at the advice portion and see what sort of game you could be dealing with. Hades can be intimidating at first; it throws a lot of stuff at you, very quickly, and while it gives you some strong guidance on what to do with many of the resources you’ll acquire not all of those uses are immediately intuitive. The following is a guide to help your first few runs go a bit more smoothly and work on the fundamentals that will help you through your entire experience.

Let’s start with some General Tips that will help you out with every run and every weapon:

- Relax. No, seriously: relax. You haven’t ‘failed’ a run if you don’t beat the final boss. Hell, you probably haven’t even ‘failed’ a run if you die in Tartarus. If you learned something or got any permanent resource - gemstones, darkness, nectar, keys, blood, diamonds, ambrosia - then that run was a success. Even if the game wasn’t currently early access and thus without a proper ‘end’ at the moment, it’s supposed to be fun. Don’t castigate yourself for dying, just dive screaming back in and rip your vengeance from the spectral chest of your slayer.

- Always Be Moving. You only have so many hit points (you start a save file with a max of 50 and the most you can start a given run with is 200) and healing is limited over the course of a run. If you’re standing still, you’re getting hit. Zag’s quick on his feet - keep him moving and use your dash liberally. Once you’ve dealt some damage, leave and let your enemies swing at empty air, then dash back in and bully them back into their graves. When you start a dash you’re invulnerable until the dash finishes, which can make for some real cheeky dodges once you’ve had time to learn enemy timing.

- Watch And Learn. Early on in the game you’ll be learning about new enemies every chamber, especially when you start transferring to new zones and all of the enemies you’ve been facing just stop being a thing. Take the chance to know your foe! You’re not on a clock: don’t leap into the fight immediately. Dash around and watch how your enemies move and attack. What’s the limitations of their tactics? The reach on their attacks? How fast do they swing and move? If you’d like to watch some of that stuff ahead of time, I’d like to suggest amber_cxc’s Twitch channel: she’s been doing a lot of runs and speedruns of Hades of late, among the other games she plays.

- Manipulate Your Rewards. Certain things in Hades can only be offered a limited number of times per run, and once you’ve hit your quota they stop appearing. You can take advantage of this to get more Boons, Centaur Hearts, and Poms of Power. Specifically, you can only have up to two Daedelus Hammers and up to three Hermes Boons. If you can knock these out early I highly endorse doing so; they’re never bad to have, and even if somehow you want none of what they have to offer getting them off the RNG will help you later. Additionally, you can use Keepsakes (more on these in a minute) to manipulate who you get Boons from, when, by changing in and out of them at each biome. In this way you can control the shape of your build for the run.

- Accept That Your Dick Energy Is Fucking Huge. A lot of games try to keep you humble. Dark Souls is infamous for it, of course, and others in this genre such as Crypt of the Necrodancer and Enter the Gungeon do not reward haste at all. That is not this game. Walk into Hades like you’re the lord god of the Big Dick Dimension even if you know you’re not; take risks and learn from experience how you can mitigate, manipulate, or cancel out those risks. That unearned confidence won’t just help you with tip one (Relax), it’ll help you practice in those high-pressure situations which will occur more and more as your Heat rises.

- A Brief Note On Projectiles. This game has a few kinds of projectiles that you’ll need to learn to identify. Balls and Arrows can be broken - hit them with an Attack and they pop and won’t hurt you. Waves cannot be broken; they travel fast along the ground and have to be dodged or deflected. Lasers can neither be broken nor deflected. Traps can’t be broken, and deflecting them doesn’t always make them safe for you; these include the lava balls in Asphodel, Inferno Bombs, and the shit spit out by Bothers and Pests. Know your foe and always be moving.

In terms of the resources you’re offered, there are broadly two kinds: in-run resources, and out-of-run resources. Let’s talk briefly about in-run ones.

- Boons: Boons are the powerful gifts of your Olympian relatives. They change how you play during your run by augmenting your abilities (like your Attack, Special, or Dash) or by offering passive benefits. In general, look at Aphrodite, Athena, or Dionysus if you want powerful defenses, Ares, Artemis, or Zeus for powerful attacks, and Poseidon and Demeter for a combination of damage and utility. Different gods will be good with different weapons, and we’ll get into that later. Boons have a Rarity and a Level; Rarity determines their starting power and how well they scale if they do scale, and Level is that scaling.

- Centaur Hearts: +25 max and current HP for this run. Do you like not dying?

- Poms of Power: Poms increase the Level of a Boon by 1, which generally makes it better at doing whatever it does. Not all Boons will level up, but the ones that you can attach to your Attack, Special, Cast, Dash, or Call always do. You do eventually hit diminishing returns with these, so you’ll generally want to spread the love around if you keep picking up Poms.

- Obols: DOLLAH DOLLAH BILLS Y’ALL. Obols are the coins preferred by Charon, the Ferryman, who will take them from you for goods and services. Obols can be turned into all other resources - even out-of-run resources. They’re almost always a great choice of investment.

These in-run resources are presented as potential rewards when you’re selecting chambers. I tend to run heavy on Boons and Obols myself, but your own play style is likely to differ! Experiment with the feel of acquiring various rewards and see what you like to invest in. After all, they’re only for the run you’re on; you literally can’t take it with you.

Out-of-run resources are used to permanently advance Zagreus’s power, his relationships, or both. They are as follows:

- Cthonic Keys: Used to unlock new weapons and new parts of the Mirror of Night. Once your weapons and Mirror are wholly unlocked these keys stop being useful more or less instantly, and can be safely traded at the Wretched Broker between runs to acquire Nectar (but see Gemstones, below).

- Gemstones: Early in the game, Gemstones can be traded in at the House Contractor between runs in order to enhance the underworld; in particular, they can be used to install fountain rooms, to open up access to Chaos and Erebus, to give you access to Infernal Troves (and upgrade said troves), and to add in-run resources to Keys, Nectar, and Gemstones. These services are in the first tab of the House Contractor and you should buy them out as soon as possible so that your runs can springboard off of these powerful additions. Once that’s taken care of, Gemstones can be used to renovate the House of Hades, including Zag’s bedroom and the lounge, again at the House Contractor.

- Nectar: The nectar of the gods is in short supply in the underworld, and is a treasured gift that Zagreus can offer to his friends. In most cases, the first time you give a character Nectar they will trade you a powerful Keepsake in return; these are run-altering tools you select at the start of each run and change how you play. Early on, spread the love, but once you’re full up on Keepsakes you can feel free to develop relationships through gift-giving however you see fit.

- Darkness: The power of Night is used to give permanent, powerful passive benefits to Zagreus via the Mirror of Night in his bedroom. I would suggest using Darkness to get your extra Dash and extra hit points before anything else, but once you’ve got those tools kinda fuck around and find out. Eventually a dialogue option with Nyx will unlock the flip side of the Mirror’s talents, which must be developed separately and cost even more Darkness; you’ll want lots of this and you’ll want it for a very long time. Oh, and try to save aside 8,888 Darkness for a rainy day. You’ll need it.

- Titan Blood: Offered by the first and last bosses at each level of Heat (more on Heat later). Titan Blood is used to upgrade your weapons, making them better at doing all of the things they do, as well as to unlock Aspects of those weapons. We’re still shy one Aspect as of the latest patch, so ah, don’t stop collecting this. You’ll always have a use for it.

- Diamonds: Offered by the second boss at each level of Heat. Diamonds are used to buy plot-relevant renovations to the House of Hades, to advance certain relationships, and to acquire the fishing minigame and in-game access to the soundtrack within the House. Like Blood, you’ll have a use for these for a long, long time.

- Ambrosia: Offered by the third boss at each level of Heat. When you reach the point at which you can no longer offer people Nectar, genuine Ambrosia from Olympus becomes the princely gesture by which you can show your gratitude. You may be tempted to trade this for Blood early on. Don’t.

When you’re starting out, Darkness and Gemstones will be the gods of your new world, followed closely by Cthonic Keys You’ll run out of immediate need for Gemstones faster than you will for Darkness, but by that time you’ll either be comfortable with Hades or you’ll have determined it’s not for you. Focus on unlocking access to your new weapons, upgrading the underworld itself, and paying off your talents; at this stage, escaping the underworld isn’t really a priority so much as setting up for your eventual triumph is.

And When You Can No Longer Lay Waste - Infernal Arms And Heat

(Artwork sourced from the Hades Wiki)

The assault rifle with under-slung mortar launcher is definitely my favorite ancient Greek weapon.

So I’ve mentioned unlocking weapons, and I’ve mentioned that Hades offers varied play styles, so I suppose I ought to talk about them. Zagreus’s weapons - his Infernal Arms - form the first layer of your play style choices, which will be augmented by your in-run choices, and the second layer comes in the form of the Pact of Punishment and its Heat. Each weapon has differing values for its attacks and behaves very differently. I’m not gonna give you the specific numbers here - we have a wiki for that - and will instead make some general statements on how they play and what might pair well with them.

- Stygius, the Blade of the Underworld: You start each save file with this bad boy. Stygius is a generalist weapon that leans somewhat towards speed; its Attack is a three-hit combo that ends in a Thrust with knockback, while its Dash Attack (note: these are not the same with ANY weapon) is solely the Thrust, still with knockback. Its Special, slower than the Attack, is a high-damage shockwave that breaks enemy projectiles and knocks them back. You might be asking yourself, Vox, why would I Special when it makes people leave sword range, at which point I will direct you back to Always Be Moving; your Special makes your enemies Go Away, which saves you hit points. Stygius can build into almost anything, though its Attack benefits the least from Zeus and Poseidon, and is notable for having the most wild fucking Hammer options. Some of them do little things like make your Special bigger, but then you get stuff like Hoarding Slash (deal extra damage equal to 5% of your Obols), World Splitter (you do one big swing with a base damage of 80) and motherfucking CURSED SLASH, which is where Stygius rips a line of cocaine off of a mirror, cuts your health by 60%, and then heals you for 2 every time you hit something. My advice for this is whatever you start down, commit. Stygius might build into anything, but it can’t build into everything: once you choose a boon path, pick things to compliment that and go fucking ham.

- Varatha, the Eternal Spear: The forgotten child of Hades’ weapons, Varatha is a versatile weapon that, like Stygius, does a bit of everything - and unlike Stygius, does it all at the same time. Varatha’s base attack is a series of three long-range thrusts with low damage, and its Special throws the spear in a straight line, at which point it hovers in the air until you Special again; it follows a straight line from its position to your current one, damaging anything in that line. Last, but not least, you can perform a powerful Spin Attack by holding down the Attack button and charging up. Spin is one of the strongest single hits in the game, but you do have to stop moving to charge it up. However, you can dash out of the charge - even better, dashing releases the Spin at the end of your dash. This means that once you learn the timings of your charges, you can use Spin to attack and dodge at the same time, in a wide circle around yourself. Unlike Stygius, Varatha benefits to an extent from splitting your build up; its Attack wants big hitters like Aphrodite, Artemis, or Poseidon, whose high multipliers pair amazingly with the spin, while its Special can mount debuffs or stranger forms of damage like those offered by Dionysus and Ares. If you start building into one thing, but then Hammer into an alternate focus, the end result is still going to be pretty cohesive. Like Generic Goodstuff, or want a weapon to use while building up many divine relationships? Varatha does it all.

- Aegis, the Shield of Chaos: Just because this thing has the only block function in the game doesn’t mean it’s a defensive weapon. Aegis is a fast-moving melee weapon whose hits cause native knockback, slamming foes into walls, up against cliffs, and through traps & magma. Since Aegis throws people around it’s great for a highly aggressive style; dash in, hit them, and watch them slide away before they can do damage back to you. Its Special throws the shield Captain America style, where it ricochets off of opponents and obstacles before eventually returning. Use this with care; you can’t attack or block while your Special is out. Holding down the Attack button begins to charge a Bull Rush; while you’re charging, you’re immune to damage in the direction the shield is facing, and then when you release you dash to the end of the indicated line, damaging anything you hit. Despite how sexy that sounds, Bull Rush is honestly kinda slow and can be hard to build for specifically; instead, Bull Rush is best used to get out of bad situations, or to outlast big long boss combos, especially those used by the first and second bosses who are known to spit out absolute STREAMS of projectiles. Aegis hits fast and gets lots of bonus damage against normal enemies by bullying them against walls for that sweet, sweet Wall Slam damage, but it craves big damage multipliers less than some other weapons; consider using Zeus, Dionysus, or Demeter for your Attack, saving big damage choices for if you can get a Dash Attack build going. Special is great for mounting utility like Aphrodite or Poseidon that let you control the engagement further, just remember to think before you hit the yeet button.

- Coronacht, the Heart-Seeking Bow: Meet your first ranged weapon! Coronacht deals damage in a straight line by charging up a shot; when your line flashes, release the shot for a Power Shot that deals extra damage. Its Special is...bad, I’m gonna be real; it’s a wide-sweeping volley of arrows that deal individually low damage and will rarely, if ever, hit the same target. Still, it has its uses. Coronacht benefits from either high damage or battlefield control on its Attack; look into Artemis, Aphrodite, Demeter, and Poseidon. Its Special is harder to build for, but Ares and Zeus both do well on it since they can cause damage out of proportion with the range and/or area of your volley. Play keep-away and use distance to get off those charge shots, and remember that you can break projectiles and hit multiple enemies with each attack. Avoid mounting odd damage (Ares or Dionysus) or utility (Athena) on your Attack; it’s not going to come out fast enough to take meaningful advantage of those tools.

- Malphon, the Twin Fists: Easily the angriest weapon in all of Hades, Malphon is a pair of massive fuck-off gauntlets that are used for fast-moving combos at extremely short range. It is unique in that its Attack has a Dash Attack, and its Special - a massive uppercut - has a dash upper, letting you sweep in and deal big damage in a tight area immediately. Though each of Malphon’s hits are individually small, it throws out so fucking many of them that you can put almost anything on your Attack and it’ll work out. Athena Attack? Why not, you’ll be swinging when the enemy is. Dionysus Attack? Poison stacking has never been easier! Artemis Attack? Sure, you don’t do a lot of base damage, but you swing so often that you’ll crit constantly and take advantage of passives like Support Fire. Your Special has much higher base damage and can easily become the focus of your build, and because it moves slower it wants bigger damage multipliers like Artemis or Aphrodite if it’s your focus. If it’s not your focus, consider Poseidon in its slot (to get enemies to Go Away) or a god that will combo with your Attack (for instance, if you’re doing Demeter Attack, consider Zeus Special so you can potentially pick up the Cold Fusion boon and get 10 seconds of free damage every time you tap the Special button). You pay a price for this ease of use: Malphon’s range is directly inside the enemy’s ass, which means you need to have razor-thin timing to dash out of the way of attacks and keep your combos going, especially if you get swarmed. Since Malphon can mount and build literally fucking anything, it’s the ideal weapon to use if you want to power-level Keepsakes; slap something on at the start of a run and then just never take it off. Sure, you’re letting the Three Fates decide your build, but fuck it, it all just works!

- The Adamant Rail: What if you invaded the underworld with a fucking machine gun. The Adamant Rail has an ammo counter; each Attack takes 1 bullet (and Dash Attack takes and fires 2), and you reload by pressing the right-hand stick in. Its Special is a slow-moving mortar that hits in a wide area. The Rail is a powerful and versatile weapon capable of engaging at great range, which tends to build either Attack or Special. If you’re building Special, look for big hits like Aphrodite, Artemis, or even Poseidon, and any Special upgrade at all from the Hammers. Attack usually wants utility or stacks - stuff like Poseidon, Demeter, Dionysus, or Zeus - but certain Hammer upgrades like Spread Shot might make it more worthwhile to invest in big hits for it if you get them early. However! Just because you’ve decided on a focus doesn’t mean you should neglect the other half of your weapon. For instance, an Attack-focused build might still entertain the Targeting System upgrade so that you can more easily land your hits and avoid the enemy, while a Special-focused one benefits from mounting debuffs like Weak or Chill on its Attack.

For any weapon, once you settle into a play style you enjoy, find ways to be rewarded for what you’re already going to do. If you enjoy, say, the Chiron Aspect for the bow which makes it into a Special-focused weapon, mount benefits like Doom or Weak on its Attack since you still have to use that to make your shit go-go. This applies more broadly too; if you’re saving up Gemstones for something, for instance, use the extra money you get during your run to visit the shops earlier and more often. Let Hades reward you for doing the things you already want to do.

To close this guide out I’m going to briefly touch on Heat, which is how Supergiant Games has manifested their signature build-your-own-hard-mode approach. After you clear the game with any weapon for the first time, you acquire access to the Pact of Punishment. This Pact lets you turn on hostile modifiers to your run, which each have a Heat value; once you clear the game with a weapon at any given level of Heat (0, 1, 2, etc) you can only get Titan’s Blood, Diamonds, and Ambrosia with that weapon by advancing to the next level of Heat. In this way the game gradually gets harder on a weapon-by-weapon basis.

So, what modifiers to turn on? Depends on what you’re good at and bad at, but I would highly, highly suggest that you get used to Extreme Measures, Middle Management, and Benefits Package as soon as possible. Not only are they sources of big Heat by themselves that don’t change too much of the run by themselves, but their primary difficulty is knowledge-based; once you know them, they’re practically free real estate. Since Heat is tracked per-weapon and not in total, you can also always go back to weapons you’re not as good with and use practice with them as an excuse to get more permanent resources that you can pour into the ones you prefer.

Obviously this guide is not comprehensive! I’ve left out a lot of things you might want to know, like boss patterns, enemy types, and a whole lot of stuff about characters. Some of these things I’ve not talked about because I don’t want to give spoilers; others I haven’t talked about because I’m, again, actually pretty bad at games and the Hades community has talented folks whose guides on Steam, on the Reddit, and on the wiki can provide you with thorough breakdowns of the math that makes the game work. Still, it’s my hope that this can ease your entry into the world of Hades and help guide you in those early runs when it can feel like you’re spinning your wheels. I look forward to hearing from you; reblogs and commentary are welcome!

See you all in Hell.

#hades #hades supergiant #supergiant games #roguelike #action #guide #Greek Mythology #video games

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nad-zeta · 4 years

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I kindly ask for a matchup and I completely get it if you don't have the time. pretty stubborn and resilient, no matter I many time I get down I won't admit defeat, though if I'm wrong about something I will admit my fault. I hate the thought of emotionally hurting people i will do everything for those i love, but if I'm wronged by someone I will coldly cut off any ties. I don't believein love at fist sight to me it's something that needs to be nurtured and I charge batteries by being alone.

Hey there, love! Thanx so much for the request and for waiting sooooo long! I hope you enjoy it! ^_^

So I match you with............. Yukimura

Hehehe the first time you meet this boy was obviously when he saved you from falling off a freaken cliff. Like, darn you legit could have died. Just based on that fact alone, you saw him as a friend. You haven’t seen the brash boy since. You had been working for Nobunaga for a week now doing random errands like dropping off mail, helping the maids and buying his precious candy from the market. You were coming to enjoy your time in the past and have actually made quite a few friends. You and Ieyasu had become really good friends due to your resilient nature. One day you were out in the market on your candy run. You finally reached the candy merchant only to discover one bag of candy left. Just as you were starting to celebrate the fact that you managed to make it just on time to buy the last bag. A large hand reached over your shoulder to grab it. Hell no you thought. You turned around ready to scold whoever thought they could take advantage of your shortness and jump the queue. When your eyes met his honey brown eyes, you were taken back. You didn’t expect to see ranger rick here. His eyes widened at the same time as yours in recognition and the first words he spoke to you were. “Hey, aren’t you that cliff diving wild boar”. Did he really just call you a wild boar. You were in shock, like you’ve been called many things before but wild boar. You shook your head and poked his chest scolding him for stealing your bag of candy. You may have met you match when it comes to stubbornness cause this boy was just as intent on buying the candy as you. Neither of you backing down from the challenge, insults and witty remarks were flying everywhere. The two of you were so engaged in the battle of stubbornness that you didn’t even notice a third party buy the last bag of candy. When the shop owner promptly announced that he was sold out both of you turned to look at him at the same time with horrified expressions. The two of you walked away from the shop in defeat grumbling at how rude it was for some rando to just steal your candy, like didn’t he see the two of you clearly fighting for it. The two of you then parted ways to go back to your homes empty-handed

The next time you saw Yuki, you laughed your ass off for like 20min at the thought of him selling woman’s jewelry. You had come to the market in hopes of finding boy wonder to apologize for some of the harsh things that you may have said, as you found out that he had actually pre-ordered and paid for the candy in advance (you couldn't understand why he didn't just say something back then. Or why he instead on arguing with you when it clearly was already his candy in the first place, freaken idiot). It actually gave you a good idea to pre-order your own bag next time- to ensure that you would get one. Although, in retrospect, pre-ordering didn’t do Yuki any good in any case, cause both of you had left empty-handed.

But honestly seeing him sitting behind the girliest cutest accessories made you forget all that. It was seeing Yuki's small pout that helped you to calm down a bit and catch your breath. Before you could invite him to an apology tea you caught sight of a beautifully dainty bracelet. You couldn’t help but admire the workmanship of such a delicate piece. “So, dummy did you come here just to laugh at my livelihood or what”. You couldn’t help but smile at the idiot, he definitely doesn’t have any tact. You invited him to tea, which he gladly accepted. He quickly packed up his shop, and the two of you started walking to the nearest tea house

Spending time with him was surprisingly pleasant. And Yuki definitely didn’t lack a sense of humor. You spent your whole tea date laughing at his stupidly hilarious jokes. You couldn’t help but tease the poor boy for his adorable blush that would spread to the tips of his ears. Of course, it wouldn’t be a date with Yuki if the two of you didn’t stubbornly argue about something, and this time it was about the bill. You insisted on paying as a way to apologize for your rudeness. While he insisted on paying for the same reasons and well at the fact that it wouldn’t feel right for him not to pay. While the two of you were bickering, you decided to order another round of tea and snacks. The sun was busy setting when the two of you finally settled on a compromise. He would pay for this round, and you would pay for the next. And that is how your weekly tea dates with the tactless boy started. During these little get together, the two of you would talk about everything and anything. The two of you actually became really good friends

Yukimura loved your resilient nature, and your refusal to give up no matter how hard a task may get. You had asked your dear friend Yuki to teach you some self-defense cause you noticed that women are basically pretty powerless during these times. And you didn’t want any man trying to take advantage of your, much less kidnapping you to use against Nobunaga. Yuki accepted the challenge with the biggest goofiest grin. The two of you would train early in the morning, it was the perfect time for both of you, For you cause you could sneak out before the castle residence would wake up and for Yuki because he had to run the shop during the day and spy at night. He first taught your hand to hand, and then how to use a sword. He honestly admired your grit; whenever you would be knocked down, you would stand up and get straight back into stance. Honestly, you were thankful for your training cause it had saved you many a time from attempted kidnappings

Your and Yuki’s entering into a relationship was slow. It actually happened one day when he had taken you to his favorite spot to train. It was near a cliff surrounded by a bunch of flowers. You couldn’t really understand why that was his favorite destination until the sun started rising. He pulled you over to sit next to him on the edge of the cliff and watched the sunrise; it was honestly the most beautiful sight you had ever seen. You could see Yuki was being a bit fidgety, and his eyes were filled with a question, but you brushed It off as he offered you a hand up so the two of you could make your way back home before it got too late. On your way down the mountainside, you slipped and twisted your ankle. Yuki immediately crouched down and helped you strap your ankle. He then turned his back to you “Get on dummy, there is no way you can walk on that ankle”. You could feel yourself go red at the offer of a piggyback ride. Yuki lifted you up effortlessly and started walking. You took comfort in the fact that he was just as red as you, evident by his bloodred ears. You couldn’t help but take in his scent, he always smelled so good, like pine trees and spice. Yuki awkwardly started a conversation with you when all of a sudden, he just blurted out that he loved you. You couldn’t help but smile. You nuzzled the back of his neck and rested your head on his shoulder. You hid your face and muttered that you had felt the same way. This boy be happy. When he dropped you off at home, he even surprised you with the dainty piece of jewelry you had eyed in his shop. Honestly, you were overjoyed. Yuki was actually a secret soft under all that talk.

The two of you nurtured your relationship. It definitely helped that it was based on a really good friendship. Whenever the two of you were near each other you always had the goofiest grins on your face, Yuki definitely respected your space and wanting some alone time to recharge. Both of you honestly helped balance the others out. Yuki was very forgive and forget, while you were very set the bridge alight and let it burn. Yuki would sometimes help you forgive and forget someone that had wronged you, and you would help Yuki cut ties with toxic people.

The two of you are incredibly cute together. Both of you kept up your weekly tradition of going on tea date. You really enjoyed each other’s company even if it was just sitting in silence. He would always hold your hand and tangle his legs with yours. You love the blush that would creep over his face whenever he does this. The two you can often be found snuggled together watching the sunrise after your moring training.

Other potential matches.................Ieyasu

I hope you enjoyed love! Hope you are doing well and staying safe! And once again thanx for the request! 😊

#yukimura #ikesen yukimura #yukimura sanada #sanada yukimura #ikesen matchup #ikemen matchup #ikemen sengoku matchup #matchups #yuki matchup #yukimura matchup

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harryandmolly · 5 years

Text

Change of Pace - 3 (Summer 2019)

cowritten by @achinglyshawn

summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love

warnings: language

wc: 7.2k

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Geoff drags him out Sunday night, reminds him that he promised to play guitar for karaoke at the SandTrap for at least an hour until their regular guy can get there.

“Besides,” Geoff rasps as he pulls Shawn into local-filled pub on the beach, “you need to have some fucking fun, dude. Stop wallowing over Maya.”

“I’m not wallowing,” he insists, but he sounds a little too defensive even to his own ears. He re-adjusts his grip on his guitar case, following Geoff towards the stage. “Just, you know, processing. It’s a lot to process, dude.”

Geoff takes Shawn’s guitar and sets it down next to his bass on the stage. He gives Shawn a look, amused but sympathetic, then jerks his head towards the bar. “C’mon,” he says, clapping Shawn on the back, “Let’s grab a beer before they need us on stage.”

Shawn doesn’t argue, just lets Geoff push him forward. He takes the first empty seat at the end of the bar and nods at Meghan, the new bartender who started a few weeks ago. She smiles and he thinks maybe she blushes. He wonders if she’d flirt with him, if he tried. Probably. It could be fun, if it sounded at all remotely like something he wanted to do.

Instead, he orders two beers and listens to Geoff talk about the woman at work he’s trying impress until they’re summoned to the stage.

Maya scans herself in the reflection of a too-shiny BMW in the SandTrap lot. She hasn’t seen herself in these shorts since she was in her mid 20s, probably. She found them in the bottom of a box as she unpacked from her storage unit that was shipped over from Manhattan.

She tried them on as a joke initially. But… they looked great. Especially a couple wine glasses in.

She’s heading for the SandTrap tonight because it’s just… time. Truthfully, she hasn’t left the house really since her run-in with Shawn at the farmer’s market last weekend. She’s been in and out to surf but has otherwise gone full hermit. When she realized this morning by looking at a paper that it was Sunday, she felt a sting of shame.

So the SandTrap.

It’s a dive on the beach. Their food is terrible, their service isn’t great, but the music is consistently awesome and Avila is so tiny that the nightlife is limited at best.

Just a drink or two, just to feel like she’s been out. It’ll be fine. Sure, she opened a bottle of shiraz to give herself the courage to get out the door, but this is an adjustment period. She shouldn’t judge herself. And she’s been trying to get him off her mind all week. She needs this.

But the shorts may have been a choice too far. I mean yes, she looks hot. CorePower Yoga and regular pilates were her vices while she was working. She’s in excellent shape. But the little cutoffs with her platform sandals and the drapey tank top? She’s too old for this.

But it’s too late. So she chews on her lip, tasting chapstick and wine, and walks inside.

It’s not the busiest night, and Shawn prefers it that way. The crowd is mostly locals chatting, exchanging a laugh or catching up about their weeks. No one’s too drunk, so the singing on stage hasn’t been awful. Besides, he’s likes watching his friends make idiots of themselves, and he likes listening to the ones who actually manage to carry a tune.

He’s reminded of what fun is, for a little while.

He can’t help but laugh at one of the locals’ rendition of Never Gonna Give You Up, and Geoff catches his eye from across the stage, an approving smile spread across his lips.

It’s not like Shawn needs anyone to take care of him, but it’s nice having Geoff around. He’s never had an older brother, but he thinks Geoff fills the role well.

Cheri claims the last song of the hour before the band goes on break and Shawn passes guitar duty back to Beckett, the kid who regularly plays the gig. The barista picks Careless Whisper as her anthem, and Shawn loves her for it.

He loves this song. This song makes him want to pick up the saxophone, but he’s not sure he has the lung capacity for it. Either way, he finds himself melting into the chords, into Cheri’s pretty voice that soothes him even with the saddest lyrics.

He’s caught up enough not to notice the woman who broke his heart standing in the back of the bar.

Oh, come the fuck on.

She’s able to actually chuckle to herself because of course he’s here. Of course he’s on stage in those tight black jeans bobbing his head as he looks around the dimly lit dive bar. His fingers move deftly against the neck of the guitar she’s known almost as long as she’s known him. She wonders if he remembers the nights he spent holding her between his legs, kissing her neck and shoulders while she tried to learn to play. She hasn’t thought about that in a long time. She got really good at not thinking about that.

Maybe she should take this as a sign and just leave. Maybe she’s done enough just by getting out of her yoga pants to come tonight. Maybe she can count this as a brisk walk by the beach… a little tipsy and in platforms. That’s fine, right?

But then he’s getting off the stage and settling into a stool by the bar and he clearly hasn’t seen her so maybe she’s safe? She recognizes the song the band plays next and it’s giving her a conflicting sign. She has to stay through the end of it, at least. The woman singing has a nice voice.

A woman he doesn’t recognize gets on stage after Cheri, and Shawn’s glad he’s not accompanying anymore, because he kind of hates the song she picks. It’s Ashlee Simpson, an artist he hasn’t heard since college, when Maya would blast her music in her car as they sped through Toronto in search of a hot club or some chicken nuggets. Whichever they’d run into first.

The song makes his heart beat faster. Too much reminds him of Maya these days, including the woman herself. She’s somewhere in this town, breathing the same salty beach air he breathes, watching the same sun rises he watches. Buying the same Starbucks, listening to the same radio stations.

He takes a sip of beer. Forces himself to stop thinking about it. About her. He used to be so good at not thinking about her at all.

Ok, new plan. She’s going to sneak up to the bar behind him and get herself a drink then retreat to where she can stay out of sight. One or two cocktails and she’s out the door, no problem.

Problem: the floorboards are warped by decades of sea salt air and bad weather. She catches an edge and rolls her ankle, crashing into the man standing in front of her with a wince. She apologizes quietly but knows she’s made a scene.

He’s caught up in his effort to push her from his thoughts when he hears a bit of a commotion at the other end of the bar. A barstool screeches, a beer bottle topples onto its side.

When he looks over, he’s not even surprised. She’s always popping up when he’s trying to forget her.

Maya slumps into a stool in defeat, now very sure Shawn’s seen her. She can’t bear to look though. She needs a fuckin’ drink.

Maya’s face looks red as she slips around the man to settle at an empty barstool. Shawn feels his own face turn a similar shade of crimson. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know when she got here or if she’s seen him, but for a moment, he’s stuck.

It’s like a video game, where you’ve got two choices, and one choice moves the story along while the other sends you down a dead end, or over the edge of a cliff. Shawn doesn’t know which decision is which. None of his options now feel right. Staying in his seat and ordering another beer feels like a dead end. Getting up and saying hi feels like flirting with the cliff.

He decides dead ends are boring.

He plucks his wallet from his pocket and tosses a couple bills on the bar before moving down to the other end. He approaches Maya from behind, makes sure she can’t spot him before he’s leaning his forearms on the bar next to her and getting Tom’s attention. He’s the kind of bartender that responds to familiar faces, so Shawn’s pretty sure Maya isn’t making much headway.

The bartender is busy and Maya is impatient. She’s staring at him and leaning most of her weight into her elbows that are propped on the bar but he’s definitely ignoring her in favor of chatting with some patrons she assumes are regulars. She’s about to go full New York Woman and start clearing her throat loudly when she feels a wall of warmth settle in behind her.

She doesn’t have to look. She knows what he feels like even when he’s not touching her.

The hair on the back of her neck stands up under where the rest is clipped up at the back of her head. He’s not so close that she can feel his breath. It’s probably a blessing.

“Shawn, buddy!” Tom exclaims when he makes it back to the end of the bar. “You looking for a whiskey sour?”

“Hey man,” he says with a smile, “Yeah, please. Whiskey sour and a scotch, neat.”

Tom nods, turns away, and Shawn finally risks a look down at Maya.

“That’s still your drink, I hope,” he murmurs with a smile, forgoing any sort of formal greeting.

She turns and lowers back into her stool. His curls are frizzy from the humid air. His eyes are warm and soft. She swallows.

“Yeah. I still drink like an old man,” she confesses, “I think working on Wall Street made it worse.”

She remembers what he tastes like when he drinks whiskey sours. Her mouth waters completely against her will. She squeezes her fingers into the lacquered bar top and drops her eyes to his chest.

She doesn’t even look surprised to see him, which makes him think that she showed up when he was still on stage. And that she knew he was gonna approach her. He hates how predictable he is, but he couldn’t stay away. He’s drawn to her, whether he wants to admit it or not.

She makes him laugh. She always has. And her drinking like an old man joke is one of the oldest they share. His heart flips. He feels inexplicably comfortable and out of control, all at once.

He laughs. Her skin sizzles with the sound. She licks her lips and lifts her eyes to face him.

“Wall Street, eh?” He didn’t know that. “So does that mean you’re rich? Are you the wolf?”

He’s flirting with her. He can’t fucking help it. He’s never not flirted with her. It also gives him something to do besides stare at her, like he wants to. He wants to sit her down and take a proper look, find all the things that have changed in twelve years and commit them to memory, so that he can know her just as well as he used to.

He keeps his gaze on her fingers, instead, watches her nails dig into the bar because it’s the safest place to look. Anywhere else, and he’ll be lost.

Maybe he should’ve picked the dead end.

He’s laughing, he’s joking. She can see the hesitancy in his eyes -- it seems he really doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing either. It’s strange. They used to say whatever came flying into their heads without thinking.

She looks sheepish. “I never even saw that movie,” she confesses, “But I did meet a couple of the guys represented in it.”

She’s so lame.

“I do okay, though. Financially.”

A gross understatement. Maya has more money than she’ll ever know what to do with. Part of stepping away from the office was brought on by realizing in a sweeping wave of guilt how relatively little she’s given to charity in the last decade and change, too caught up in her own life. Another thing to work on.

She sounds like she does whenever she’s trying to be modest, like she totally is rich but it makes her uncomfortable to admit it. He feels stupid for asking the question in the first place. You’re not supposed to ask people about how much money they make, and here he is, hasn’t seen the woman in twelve years, and he’s asking if she’s fucking rich. What’s wrong with him?

She makes him crazy. He decides to blame her, even though it’s totally unfair.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” he murmurs as he drops his gaze to the drinks that appear on the bar in front of them. His fingers curl around his whiskey and he swirls the glass in smooth circles.

Maya wants to scramble all over the place to make him feel comfortable -- it’s an instinct. Her working environment has largely dulled it over the years. She couldn’t get anywhere in New York finance if she was always tripping over herself to make the men around her comfortable. But Shawn brings it out of her easily like it was just at the surface.

“It’s okay,” she laughs, and it feels as light as her head does, “You’re not exactly a stranger, Shawn.”

Not exactly a stranger. Understatement of the year. He feels like he knows her better than he knows himself. But he thinks of all the things he doesn’t know anymore, and the feeling goes. He’s not exactly a stranger, no, but he might as well be.

“What are you doing for work these days?”

He’s watching the ice spin in a vortex, when her question breaks him from his trance. He smiles to himself, then gives her a sideways look.

“I’m, ah, I refurbish and make guitars. And basses and other strings too. And I just started working on my first piano, actually.”

He feels sick, telling her what he does like she’s an acquaintance from the street. He hates that she doesn’t already know. He hates that there’s any time in between them at all, when looking at her makes him feel like he was hers just yesterday.

He remembers the last time he kissed her so clearly. It doesn’t feel like it was years ago. It feels like minutes. Seconds, even. He’s dying to kiss her again, but he knows he can’t. He shouldn’t.

He sips his drink instead.

Maya’s nose twitches as she tamps down a goofy smile. Of course he’d find a way to get even closer to the music. She used to joke that if he could climb inside a guitar and live in there, he would. It seems he found a way.

She watches his adams apple bob as he swallows. She finds herself swallowing around nothing and turns the glass between her hands.

“Of course you are,” she murmurs. It’s a little gentler and warmer than she intends it to sound. It feels like a brush of a hand against someone you’ve loved since you were a kid.

“That’s… that’s amazing, Shawn.” She finds she keeps saying his name. She hasn’t said it in so long. It feels nice.

The way Maya says his name makes his head spin. He tries to find solace in his whiskey. He takes a sip, then another, attempting to ignore how his skin buzzes pleasantly at the sound of her voice.

She uses his name and ‘amazing’ in the same sentence and he feels like a freshman in university again, eager and hopeful and dying to be as impressive to her and she is to him. He’s always preened in the light of any compliment she’s been gracious enough to give him. Seems like that’s still the case, all these years later.

He finishes his drink and slides it away from him, the alcohol pulling him down onto the barstool next to hers so he can order another.

“I’m not the wolf of Wall Street, but it suits me,” he says as he turns on the stool to face her, one forearm pressed along the edge of the bar so his fist is curled near her elbow. If he wanted, he could stretch his fingers and touch her, feel her skin beneath his fingertips once more.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t do a lot of things his body tells him to, lately.

As Shawn drinks, Maya drinks. She slings back gulp after gulp of scotch until her glass is empty. She shouldn’t have another, probably. She never drinks this much anymore. She doesn’t know what she’d be like drunk now, especially around him. There’s no telling what she’ll do or say.

Fuck it. She orders another scotch.

She admires his hulking frame as he sits beside her. He continued to fill out and bulk up a bit in their time apart. Every curve of muscle suits him beautifully. She thinks about what it would be like to draw him again like she used to. The thought has her back in her fresh glass of booze.

They’re quiet for a moment, both sipping drinks like they’re thankful for something to do with their hands.

And then—

“I could show you around the shop, some time. If you wanted.”

He says it without thinking, without considering what having her in his personal space might do to his heart. But he can’t stop being reckless now that he’s confronted her and they’re actually talking again and she’s not walking away from him like he used to think she might. Now that she’s looking at him almost like she used to.

He wants to close himself off to her, but he’s like a hungry flower in the sunlight. He blossoms and blooms and basks in her warmth because it’s the only way he’s ever known to be around her.

She perks up when he offers to show her the shop. He wants to see her again. He’s not just being his unfailingly polite self. He wants to be around her, he wants to show her something that’s important to him. It makes her breath catch in her chest. She’s nodding before he even finishes his sentence.

“Yeah. Definitely. Yes. I want to see your shop.”

It’s not subtle, but it’s very honest. She blinks up at him with a big grin.

She doesn’t hesitate. He feels his cheeks flush. She wants to see his shop. His life. He has a feeling she knows how important work like this is to him. It makes him all that more nervous to show her, but no less eager.

It feels too good to be true and for a moment, he waits for this to be another dream. He’d ask to buy her another drink, reach to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she’d nod, part her lips to speak, then nothing. He’d be awake.

He takes a sip of his drink to make sure everything is real, though he’d much prefer to pinch himself. He swallows and smiles at her, setting his glass down on the bar. He can’t stop smiling, and each smile is easier than the last, especially with the whiskey.

“Don’t get too excited,” he laughs gently, “It’s not, you know, Gibson, or anything.”

He’s giggling and smiling and drinking and Maya’s halfway to lifting herself into his lap, so she should probably put her glass down and let the world right itself. But she might be as drunk on him as she is on the booze.

“Fuck Gibson. I bet you’re better,” she says easily. It’s very honest. Her tongue is loose. At least she’s still keeping her hands to herself. For now.

If she’s been working on Wall Street, she probably knows all sorts of impressive business moguls and financiers. He doesn’t think he’s much compared to the people she’s got waiting back at home for her. He doesn’t know who it is she’s got in New York, a boyfriend or what, but he’s just a beach bum with a bunch of guitars. He won’t pretend to even compare, no matter how badly his gut tells him to peacock for her. It’s not who he is anymore.

“We could go now, if you want,” he hears himself saying, to his honest fucking horror. He must be drunk. He’s only halfway through the second whiskey, though, so it’s not the alcohol that’s so intoxicating.

He finishes his drink, then wets his lips and quirks a brow at her. Fuck it.

At his suggestion, her glazed eyes brighten. “Yes! Let’s go now!”

She’s definitely loaded. There’s no getting around that now. But she thinks maybe some fresh air might help.

Who the hell is she kidding? She just wants to be alone with him where she can hear herself think over the bad karaoke. Not that she’s really thinking at all now. This all feels too good to think about it.

She stands and bites her lip at him.

She’s tipsy. He knows the signs. The laugh in her voice, the flush in her cheeks, the glossy gleam in her eye. His heart warms. He missed this. He missed her.

It doesn’t scare him the way it did only an hour ago. He guesses he can thank alcohol for that.

She stands before him and he checks her out, openly, blatantly. He hasn’t let himself before now, but the alcohol has control of some of his baser judgements at the moment.

Or maybe that’s just a convenient excuse.

Either way, she looks good. Just as gorgeous as she was in college. More so, actually. Elegant, even buzzed on scotch, in a way she wasn’t in her early twenties. She’s a woman now, when they were both just kids before.

She feels his eyes all over her and tries not to squeeze her thighs together desperately, but finds it a challenge to keep them apart. Her mind wanders absently to which box her Hitachi magic wand might still be packed in. She… will probably need it tonight.

Finally, he sucks in a breath and drags his gaze from her beautifully round thighs to her face. He grins, unfolds himself from under the bar and stands to face her. As he drops a $50 on the bar, Shawn holds his hand out and gestures towards the door.

He lifts himself to stand and puts a bill down on the bar, which is good because she forgot all about that. She flushes pink and smiles at him as a thank you. She follows his hand, turning toward the door.

“After you, Lulu.”

She stops short at the nickname. No one’s called her that since he did 12 years ago. She doesn’t have the presence of mind to play it off. She blinks and spends a moment reveling in it.

“Oh,” she breathes, looking over her shoulder at him, “That’s an old one.”

He’s just as caught off guard as she is. The name slipped out before he could stop it, but the way she’s looking at him makes him glad he didn’t.

He tries to play it cool.

“Oldie but goodie,” he says with a quirk of his lips and a gentle shrug.

Maybe he doesn’t take the nickname as seriously as she does. Maybe that won’t keep him up at night the way it will her. Maybe he assumes other people have picked it up and used it in his absence, though they haven’t.

She tucks the moment away into her big, drunk brain for later use.

He takes a step towards her, his hand moving to the small of her back of its own accord. He doesn’t realize what he’s done until it’s too late, his palm is firm against her back.

Fuck it.

He guides her forward, through the door and away from the parking lot. Geoff’s got the keys to the Jeep, and it’s just a short walk down the beach anyway.

And then his hand rests on the thin silky fabric covering her back and she freezes again with her hand on the door. She recovers faster this time and hopes he can’t feel her shuddering breath through his touch.

His hand is so warm.

“This way,” he murmurs as he steers her towards the stairs that lead to the boardwalk. His hand is steady on her back with each step they climb. He doesn’t drop away from her until they reach the top.

She’s grateful they’re not driving. The fresh air should help her sober up a little. She watches her toes as she walks with him and finds she can’t concentrate on anything other than feeling all five of his perfect fingers that are so close they may as well be on her bare skin. He hasn’t dropped his hand yet. She shouldn’t consider why.

“It’s just like, five minutes down the boardwalk, if that’s cool,” he says with a sideways glance at her as they walk, his hands sliding into his pockets.

“That’s fine,” she answers breezily, blinking quickly when his hand leaves the small of her back. She fights against the desire to curl into him and suck up all his body heat. She laces her fingers together in front of her and tugs at them to keep herself busy.

“Do you live close by?”

He watches her concentrate on her feet, then feels like he’s been caught once she finally looks up. He presses his lips together and nods, then looks away from her, trying to play it off like he wasn’t staring.

She’s a little startled to look up and see he’s watching her. Maybe she shouldn’t be, because she’s been doing the same thing to him all night. She’s curious about him. Maybe he’s just curious too.

“My house is back the other way, though. Lease it with Geoff,” he looks back at her, brow quirked, “Do you remember Geoff? He was the year below yours.”

He doesn’t know why he’s asking about G. He doesn’t know why he even mentioned him at all. He’s also starting to feel embarrassed by admitting to being a dude in his thirties who still lives with one of his bros from college.

She’s probably used to far more sophisticated company than he can provide, but he tries not to dwell on it.

She smiles. “I remember Geoff. Nice guy.”

He lives with his best friend from college. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single, but it at least means he’s not too serious with anyone.

NOT THAT IT MATTERS!

She berates herself and shakes her head a little to rid herself of the train of thought.

“And how long have you had the instrument shop?”

“Almost as long as I’ve been in Avila,” he answers, “It was a shit little property I had to fix up but I got it only like, three months after moving here.”

He feels like he’s being interviewed, but he really doesn’t mind. The idea that she’s curious about him, interested in what his life’s been like, makes his heart stutter against his ribs.

Yet, bitterness and resentment nag the back of his mind.

If you’re so curious, why didn’t you call?

He never changed his number. She did.

He blinks. Takes a breath. He doesn’t want to be angry. He forgave her a long time ago. But forgiving her in his head when she’s not in his life hasn’t helped him control his emotions now that she’s showed up again.

Maya gave up any right to be proud of Shawn a long time ago. But she feels it still, that swell of delight in her chest when he mentions fixing up his shop to make it his own. She knows in some universe somewhere there’s a version of her that was with him the whole time, that helped him choose paint colors, that massaged his shoulders when he came home from spending long hours hunched over a fussy guitar.

This version of her remains quiet and tucks her hair behind her ears, fighting a shiver from the cool sea breeze.

They reach his shop’s block, and he guides her down the stairs and to the sidewalk. He moves past her as they approach the small house that holds his creations.

He glances back at her with a soft smile before pulling his key from his pocket and slipping it into the lock. The door swings open and he reaches inside to flick on the light. He turns back to Maya, steps aside.

“Well, um. Welcome,” he says with a grin.

He guides her into his domain. It smells like wood and lacquer and power tools. She cracks a smile and giggles.

“Wow. Look at this. This is like your fuckin’ Candy Land,” she jokes, shaking her head.

“Show me your favorite one.”

She sounds genuinely impressed, and he can’t help but preen. He’s proud of himself, of this little world he’s built. Even on the worst days, where it feels like nothing goes right, he still loves it. Part of him aches with the need for her to love it, too.

“Oh, uh—“ he’s taken aback, stuck for a moment because his favorite one is the one he used to write songs for her on. Not that he has to tell her that, but still. He’ll know.

“She— it’s in the back,” he says, a flush spreading across his cheeks. “Hold on, just— I’ll be right back.”

Maya chuckles at his stumbling over calling the guitar “she.”

“What an odd male tradition,” she blabs, knowing she gets philosophical and feminist sometimes when she’s drunk, “To name manmade objects after women. Like ships and cars and, I guess, guitars. It’s so bizarre to me. I don’t know whether to be offended on behalf of women or be charmed by the boyishness of it.”

She snaps her lips shut and makes a face at herself for her meaningless chatter. She’s running curious fingers along a vibrantly purple electric bass when she hears him reenter the main studio area.

She goes off on a tangent he’s heard from her before, just not about guitars specifically. It makes his heart twist. She makes it so easy to remember all the reasons he fell in love with her.

(Not that he ever forgot.)

He slips past her into his office. Lulu is tucked away in her stand in his closet and he decides maybe he should stop calling a guitar he named after his ex a ‘she.’

He holds the guitar up, spins it around to examine the shiny black lacquer-coated body before heading back into the main room, where Maya is admiring some of the electric basses that line the wall.

“This is the first perfect guitar I ever made. I don’t think I’ll ever sell it.”

She turns and stares at the work of art in his hands. She doesn’t really know much about guitars, anything she does know was picked up from snippets of conversations with him many years ago, but it certainly looks perfect to her.

“Wow,” she says again dumbly, “She’s beautiful. I’m-- wow. Can I hold her?”

She looks at the guitar like it’s as beautiful as he thinks it is, and that settles something deep in the pit of his stomach. All he’s ever wanted is for her to see him. He swears there’s no better feeling in the world than when she does.

Like now, when she asks to hold his guitar like it’s his fucking kid or something. He laughs, bright and loud, head falling back for a moment.

“Yeah,” he takes a breath, laughter subsiding as he looks down at her, “Yeah, you can hold her. She’s tough.”

He holds Lulu by the body and offers her neck first to Maya. He wonders if she remembers any of the chords he taught her.

Shawn’s laughing at her in a way that makes her feel more alive than she has in so long. It’s not judgmental or teasing, it’s… delighted. She delights him.

Or she used to. Maybe he’s just drunk.

Either way, he willingly hands off his pride and joy like he’s not worried at all that she’ll harm it. Maya takes the guitar and slings the strap over her shoulder, cradling it under her arm.

It feels good.

She hums, running her fingertips along its dips and curves, admiring his work. It really is stunning. She’s so stupid proud. And she can’t say it out loud.

Her fingers shift into place to pluck out a couple chords he taught her. She doesn’t remember the names of them. She looks up at him to see if maybe he looks just a little proud of her too.

She touches his guitar like it’s something precious and his breath catches in his throat. He watches her take such care with such an important piece of his life and he feels like he’s falling, stumbling into his love for her.

He’s never managed to let go of it, but he got pretty good at pretending it wasn’t there. He was an expert at convincing himself it didn’t fill his heart too much for anyone else to fit, that it was a scar, a slowly fading reminder of what it means to be cared for, a tip for the future.

It’s not so easy pretending now, watching Maya’s fingers glide across the sleek body of a guitar he’s known longer than he ever actually knew her.

Finally, her fingers find the strings, and she answers his silent curiosity. Her fingers flick A, A, D, E minor, A.

Those were always the easiest chords for her to remember. Her fingers know them well. It’s so, incredibly sexy.

Shawn sucks in a breath, then realizes she’s looking at him, like maybe she’s expecting him to say something. He wets his lip, takes a step towards her.

“You remember,” he says, voice a deep rasp. He’s not sure he’s talking about the chords. It’s everything. She remembers everything. She has to, because he does. It burns so fucking brightly in his memory he can’t stand to be in the same room with himself sometimes.

He looks down at the guitar between them, thumbs digging into his palms to stop himself from pulling it off of her. It’s the only barrier between him and an incredibly stupid decision.

The way he inhales sharply makes her feel like there’s finite oxygen between them. His intake of breath is sucking the air from her lungs. She doesn’t mind. She’s glad to be rid of it if it becomes his instead.

Her head is all fuzzy. His voice is low and scratchy and it reminds her of when she would wake up in his arms in the middle of the night and without her even moving, even speaking, he would notice and whisper to her until she fell asleep again.

As he steps closer, her awareness heightens. She clings to the guitar like a shield. As badly as she wants him, a piece of her knows better than to let herself have him again, even when he’s looking at her like this. Even when every word out of his mouth feels like his feelings haven’t changed, not even after so long. Not even after she left him for a life she has recently decided she doesn’t even want.

His hands stay still, but he looks back at her. “Do you remember that song you wrote?”

He does. It was three chords. Three chords and lasted about an eight count before he pulled the guitar from her lap and made her come on his tongue and needy fingers.

She swallows and closes her eyes because looking at him is too fucking much right now. She exhales shakily and nods. “I… I remember.”

She definitely remembers. She doesn’t even make a conscious decision to start playing it, it just happens, sort of like everything else between them right now. It’s instinctive with them.

Her fingers pinch and curl and pluck while her lips quiver. She remembers. She remembers the way she cried out his name while her back arched off the bed, but he didn’t let up. She remembers panting, chanting ‘I love you’ over and over until he crawled up her body and planted his lips against hers with a smile to shut her up.

“I remember,” she whispers again.

Her eyes flutter shut. He’s closer to her than he’s been in years and he can see every freckle, every line, every curve of her face. He studies every one, sketched a new portrait of her for his memory, just in case he’s not lucky enough to get this close again.

He knows she’s thinking about it now, about the way he used to love her so thoroughly. He’s not sure what possessed him to remind her, other than his addiction to her. Or more like his need not to be the only addict.

He lifts one hand carefully to hers, stilling her fingers against the neck of his guitar. His heart stops; the delicate press of his skin against hers is overwhelming, yet so slight. Somehow, curling his fingers around hers is far more intimate than the press of his palm to her back.

Maya gasps in a breath at the touch of his fingers to hers. It almost puts tears in her eyes but she holds on. His touch is so full of every memory, good and bad. It’s like jumping right back into her past with him when he holds her hand like this.

She doesn’t know what he wants now. She doesn’t even really know what she herself wants. But she lowers her shield, carefully and slowly swings the guitar around her back to hang behind them. Her fingers remain entwined with his.

“Maya,” he breathes, hoping she’ll open her eyes and look at him. He needs to see her eyes. He needs to know if he can read them as well as he used to.

The hush of his voice has her by the throat. She opens her eyes to see him there, the closest he’s been since they were kids. And now, seeing him here with her, when he’s looking at her like this, she knows what he wants.

She wets her lips like she knows what’s coming. Her voice nearly fails her when she speaks again.

“Remember with me.”

“Lulu,” he chokes, nodding as he holds her gaze, “I do. You know I do.”

He lifts their tangled fingers to her face, cups her cheek, and kisses her. A gentle press of his lips against hers.

He steps into her, takes the guitar’s place against her and she shrinks beneath him. Their height difference is always the most overwhelming when they’re chest to chest like this.

His other hand finds the nape of her neck, his fingertips scratching her scalp gently as he cradles her and sips slowly at her lips.

He kisses her the way he never gets to in his dream. The way he always wants to, the way she wouldn’t let him the night before she left.

It burns him from the inside out, and he wonders if she feels it in her bones the way he does.

Maya falls.

She falls just the same way she did. She falls the same way she did even just a few days ago when she heard his voice again.

He’s gentle with her, the way he almost always was. She’s high on it. His lips slip against hers perfectly like they’ve never fallen out of step with each other. She sobs a gasp into his mouth, overwhelmed.

She steps between his feet and presses into him so close that she can’t help but feel him everywhere. She wraps her arms around his expansive back and shoulders, curling against him with a low mewling noise.

He tastes like whiskey sour and he smells like sea salt and soap. She feels the tears prick the corners of her eyes. She doesn’t force them back this time.

He kisses her through the gentle sounds he was hoping she’d make. He kisses her deeper, wants more of her sounds, wants to feel her even closer.

Her tears on his cheek burn him. He sucks in a startled breath and pulls back, lips and hands together. He blinks down at her, trying to focus his blurry vision.

“I’m sorry, shit,” he murmurs, hands curling in to firsts. He sees the tears on her cheeks and he wants to cry, too, but he’s not sure why.

He’s not sure of anything anymore.

“Maya,” he breathes, urging her to look at him. “I’m—“ still in love with you— “I think I’m a little drunk.”

Just as soon as she can feel him start to drag her under fully, just as she’s committing to drowning for him, with him, he starts away.

She pants desperately and swipes at her cheeks, flushing hot.

“It’s… uhm, it’s ok. I am too. It’s just… this. Us. Here in Avila. Y’know, it’s like last time. Only… I guess… not.”

She used to be an incredibly articulate woman. Her words are clunky and meaningless. She can only hope he can guess what she means.

She stumbles over her words and he feels like shit. He’s such an idiot. Brings her to his shop, shows her her namesake guitar, kisses like she’s his to kiss. And she cries. He makes her cry.

He hates himself for that, and for being so scared. Scared of all the things he wants to tell her. Of how easy it feels to be around her, still, like no time has passed at all.

She presses her hands to her cheeks and shakes her head.

“Ok then. I think I should go.”

She wants to leave.

“No!” He doesn’t mean to shout, but he can’t let her go, not like this. “I mean— you don’t, Lu, you don’t have to. We can go back to the bar and get something to eat, or y’know, there’s that ice cream stand, with the soft serve and the sugar cones.”

He reaches for her carefully, curls his fingers around her wrists and pulls her hands from her slick, flushed cheeks.

“Let me get you a cone. Swirl, rainbow sprinkles, right?”

He wants to buy her ice cream.

He remembers what kind she likes. Of course he does.

Maya feels, all of a sudden, incredibly stupid. With one kiss, he made her completely sober, more sober than she’s been in her life. And lying there between them is their past that they have no answers for. Maya should’ve known better than to let him kiss her like this. She likes answers. She needs answers.

But not tonight.

Her breath catches in her throat. “No,” she rasps, “No, I can’t. I need to… I need to go home.”

With a lurch, she untangles herself from his beautiful guitar and shove it back into his hands. She heads for the door and lets it slam shut behind her, echoing with her clapping footsteps as she hurries down the boardwalk.

--------

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iesorno · 4 years

Text

We spoke to Adam a little while ago about his influences and inspirations and found his answers intriguing, so we decided to dive in and dig a bit deeper. We just kept on going with it all until we ended up with a mammoth interview going into every corner of his mind, from practice and accessing his creativity, to grafting to make a living outside of the norms of the mainstream.

I think it’s a fascinating look into the practice, experiences and the will to succeed that powers Adam, as well as a window into the wider world of underground creators.

WARNING – GORE and some SEX

You can find Adam here

webstore youtube facebook

ZL – Hi Adam! Thanx for agreeing to this interview, hope you enjoy it.

Let’s get introductions out of the way. For anyone that doesn’t know, can you tell us your name, where you grew up and where you currently live?

AY – My name is Mr. Adam Yeater. I grew up a swamp rat in Florida and traveled around a lot. I finally settled down in Arizona as a desert rat. I went from one Florida to another.

ZL – For a little bit more background. You clearly enjoy underground and mini comix, so how did you first find out about them and what were you interested in before you started reading them?

AY – I discovered zines through the early Death/Grind Metal scene in the 90s. There was no internet so everything was done via snail mail. I used to get so much great printed matter. Demo tapes, fliers for bands, albums and review zines. I eventually started my own zine called Subliminal Message. We lived in Ohio in a shit hole little town. Trying to get high, fighting, reading comic books, listening to Metal, Punk Rock, Hardcore Rap and skateboarding.

I was a very industrious broke ass 14 year old kid. I found a way to get some of the mainstream metal record companies to send me promo stuff for their bands for review. I was getting stacks of stuff in the mail. The record companies were mailing backstage passes to me! My mom thought I was running a mail scam.

I once did a phone interview with Chris Barnes when he was in Cannibal Corpse. Chris called for an interview and my mom picked up the phone. He was like “Are you a fucking kid? Holy shit! I usually do interviews with old dudes?” We talked for an hour and half about Metallica selling out. It was amazing. I idolized these weirdos and was getting to just hang out with them.

I did an interview with Cro-Mags right when the original singer got out of prison. I did an interview with Entombed for my high school newspaper! I even interviewed the Goo Goo Dolls when they were on Metalblade Records just for the hell of it. Those metal bands were my heroes. They treated me as an equal and I was this punk kid. They all encouraged me to keep at it. I was getting first hand knowledge of trying to make a living as a creative in American society from them. The good and bad.

ZL – What did it feel like the first time you ever spoke to one of your heroes? It must have felt pretty excellent, right?

AY – It was awesome talking to those bands, it was a real rush. I would get so nervous. I got to hang with some of the bands before and after the shows. All these dudes just embraced me as one of them. I am super tall, so I looked a lot older than I was. I was also a big nerd for the metal scene so I was turning them onto all this other new stuff I was getting. I think they saw me as an oddity. Then we moved to Tucson where there was no metal scene.

ZL – Is that why you stopped making your zine then, moving to Tucson?

AY – Yeah, moving from Ohio to Arizona. The scene was pretty lame in AZ. No bands would come through Tucson at the time. So I ditched the ‘zine and started a Grindcore band with some friends. We did pretty well for a local death metal act. We played shows with Napalm Death and smoked a ton of weed with Sadistic Intent, that was cool.

Lots of drugs and drama, bandmates stealing from each other. . . even more drugs. It was a very fucked up time in my life that I am happy to have survived.

ZL – At what point did you get back into zines and start to think that self-publishing comics was something you could do or that you were good at and wanted to do more with, to just keep going and going and see how far you could take it?

AY – After the band and metal zine I started printing my own mini comics and comic books. I really got into self publishing and art because I had nothing else really. My last “legit” job was as a janitor before I decided to do art and publish full time. I figured I would rather starve as an artist than starve scrubbing shit off toilets. Art is the only thing I have ever been really good at. So I just keep doing it.

ZL – Circling back to get a bit more from your background for a minute, what first turned you into a comic reader and from there, did you move to be a collector or fan, if that distinction makes sense!! And where in all of that did you start making your own comics?

AY- I was into comics a lot when I was young as a collector and fan before I moved into extreme music. I was keeping up with the medium but was focused on the death metal band I was in.

After the band. I was doing paintings and fine art for quite a while. I had also done comics on the side but my fine art was doing well. Then the housing market crashed and nobody was buying art for foreclosed homes.

Luckily I had been doing an extreme comic strip in the metal ‘zines and in the mini comics I was doing. I saw that a local comic convention had started. So I printed them all up and booked a table. I sold out of my first printing and a bunch of art. That is when One Last Day started.

ZL – How did that feel, selling out of books like that? I’m guessing it must have been quite a boost as you carried on and set up an online store! What was the convention like, if you remember at all, did you have a good time there chatting and meeting fans and creators? A lot of people talk about how much the community at a convention matters to them, was that important to you at the time?

AY – It was a real boost. From that little bit of seed money I have been able to keep the ball rolling and have kept printing comics ever since. The comics scene in Tucson in the early 90s was really small and bare bones. It was me and like 2 other indie guys actively printing their own comics. I have encouraged and fostered so many people to make their own comics since then. Many writers and artists from the Tucson scene are now in the mainstream and indie comics system.

The couple who started the Tucson Comic Con have been the best thing for our local comix and art scene. Rather than neglecting local and indie comics they embraced and promoted them. I was so lucky to be in a place where the local comic convention focused heavily on independent comic artists.

I see kids that I taught inking classes to that are now publishing their comics on Amazon. Kids that now give me their books and thank me for all the support and inspiration I gave them. It is humbling. Before the ‘rona I was leaving 1000s of mini comics all over town instead of fliers for the last 15 years. It has exposed people in this town and state to my art and a world of comic books they never knew existed.

ZL – Speaking of coronavirus, I’m wondering how much that has affected your income currently? Do you rely heavily on con sales or do you have a whole set of ways to get sales, which is a terrible way of asking that I’m really interested in how you generate sales for your work, what venues and sources and what sort of percentage of sales comes from them. Have you got a regular set of fans that buy everything, are you using email communications, just facebook?

AY – In today’s art and comics world every successful artist has to be a little bit Andy Worhol and a lot of P. T. Barnum. Otherwise nobody will give a shit about you. So I have a ton of different ways to move my stuff. The website is my main hub but I do small zine fests and shows whenever I can. I have been doing OK but had to switch gears during the crisis. My online sales picked up so that helped a lot. I also have new books coming out all this year. I think that helps too.

Comic conventions at one time were a really good source of income when I first started doing them. I was making great money. Every year it has become progressively less of a viable option for creators like me. The big comic shows are just pop culture festivals. The last few years a lot of the larger shows could care less about indie comics. Table prices and entry fees are way too high for a self publisher or upcoming creator to make any money. Especially out of state shows. Hotel, travel, etc. Because of this I was only doing smaller zine/comic shows and focusing on my online sales already. The virus was a great reason to really focus on my online presence.

ZL – I first saw your work through a facebook group, one of the indie comics groups that sort of specializes in small press superhero and space operas, and I was wondering whether you think those groups help the creators reach more readers, or whether they are all more community pages as in it’s all people that want to make comics and they’re all working to support their own bubbles? (Obviously I’m exaggerating a little, they often have horror and then there’s oddball work that pops up, but there do seem to be a lot of big boob bad girls and massive muscles in some kind of genre thing. )

AY- I look at social media differently than most. I talk shit about comics on it but I have never used it as a political soapbox or a place to talk about my “personal journey”. I post my art and comix. That is it. I speak through my art. I like to “post and ghost”. I feel I am a healthier person for it.

This year I have slowly been taking my art off all the platforms. They are not an unbiased purveyor of ideas. Like the original internet was intended for. Social media is making us all sick. Scientifically proven sick.

I have grown to hate the self imposed censorship imposed on social media by advertisers and cancel culture. We as artists should have the right to dictate our expression by taking risks. Without having to worry about some simp nerd in Silicon Valley shadow banning or blacklisting us.

These leeches profit heavily on ALL of us. Especially artists. They work to infringe on our rights and hinder our freedom to express. The platforms are privatizing our existence. Fakebook and the Twits are just digital emotional vampires.

They should be paying you a fee to use your content and sell it to their stupid advertisers. They make billions off you and you know what you get, a little dopamine for that “like”. Wow, sweet trade off. Not!!

We all need to stand up in some way as artists. Post fucked up art and weird shit all the time! I wanna see a sea of artistically drawn dicks and vaginas. Shitposts, and fucked up memes on my “news” feed. Random acts of artistic defiance. We need confrontational art more now than ever! I want to see original artwork that pushes against cultural dogmas and shitty societal norms.

Instead I see oceans of fan art and trash pop culture mashups. Useless e-rage and cat pics. Art without confrontation is just advertising at this point.

ZL – Now, that’s an interesting one, because there are two sides to the argument on this and I sort of flop wildly between the two without any great reason. I can see why social media is not going to allow seas of dicks – they are easy triggers to SEE, so they’re easy to switch off to maintain acceptability, it seems pointless to me, but is important to a lot of people, so… There’s also the issue of managing genuine freedom to express and people posting images of tentacles raping 6 year old girls and how you manage to monitor that, so it’s just EASIER not to try and figure it and blanket ban it all.

What I think calls bullshit on their motives for me is that they’ll censor that, but allow neo-nazi lies or channels where people openly spout homophobic, racist or sexist bile. There’s a stinking dichotomy there that calls a lie to their talk of community and keeping us safe from damaging content.

I certainly wouldn’t want to have to be the poor sod that sifted through all of this stuff to check it though!

Pippa Creme and the Pearl Necklace – Dexter Cockburn

Equally, with work like yours or – to call in someone else I follow who is always getting bumped from facebook – Dexter Cockburn – who does some great porn comics. I see these things as being completely ok and not deserving of banning, but seeing cape comics and how innately sexualised and soft porn like the women are made to look, that makes me feel very dubious, it seems wrong in that context, as it’s so pervasive and so unspoken and clandestine.

AY – Exactly. It is weird how the mainstream sexulizes it’s heroes. The guys look just as bad. It is a form of repressed erotica. I think it all looks so funny. Balloon shaped breasts or the massive man bulge. There is a big market for that stuff so more power to them.

It just seems erotica in comix is ok for some and not others. The censorship online is selective. Dexter is a comix friend of mine and a great example. The guidelines are so ambiguous and filled with jargon it becomes nonsense.

I totally get censorship for criminal reasons. That is a no brainer. What I saw was not that.

I saw the platforms actively destroy the online followings of some extreme horror artist’s I was following. Some of us had built large fan bases on Myspace and brought our fans over to FB with us. When FB started shutting accounts down it crushed a lot of those artist’s online communities and sales. A lot of artists had to start all new accounts with different names causing them to lose 1000s of followers. Some just gave up or stopped posting extreme art all together. They are still doing it to some of the Ero Goro artists from Japan. It is really fucked up.

ZL – That’s part of the curse and benefit of social media though, they give and then they take away when you’ve made them successful. I do wonder what we can do about that though, maybe they should migrate back to Myspace, maybe the whole retreat to mailing lists is the answer? I don’t know, we need community spaces but we need them to not go dark and end up being hiding places for crime or the dark web. What do you do about it, eh? Maybe you should start curating work into new mail lists and have link sites for different peoples’ interests!!

AY – I like that idea. I have always wanted to do a monthly brochure of underground creators. Like a double sided mailer. I might do one for the Smalll Press Express to hand out at shows. Getting the word out is why I do the YouTube channel. Nobody is shedding light on the best part of comics. The odd, voiceless, strange and marginalized. I think anything that promotes the underground scene and unites indy comic artists is good. I feel every little thing helps. We are all in this sinking ship together. The mainstream comics people keep poking holes in the boat. The indy creators have to keep bailing it out.

ZL – Moving on from that unanswerable conundrum… Is community important to you and comics? Is publishing and buying and communicating with other creators a way of building a place in the wider world for the kinds of things that you enjoy and the kind of things you want to make?

AY – What community. The comics community?

It just saddens me so much lately. The internet and social media had so much potential to dissolve physical, cultural and social boundaries to our communication around the world.

Instead most people have developed the attention span of a gnat. I doubt anyone will actually read all this. So I am just gonna lay it all out. How I see it as an outsider looking in.

There is a massive world of art and comics that is ignored in the west. It is where I exist as a creative. I work with toy making friends in South Korea and send comix pages to Artizines in Spain. Send instant messages to slap sticker artists in Japan. All in a few seconds!! This used to take weeks, even months via phone and mail. Many here just take this shit for granted.

I had a “stick poke” tattooist from Taiwan ask if she could use one of my mini comic images in her little shop. How sick is that!! I live for that!!

I have worked with 100s of the most creative and amazing artists from all over the world. I have had enough love and inspiration from the global art community to last me two life times!!

The American comics community is a weird story. My books sell well. My fans are awesome. First time readers always come back. I do really well at every comic convention I have ever done, even small ones. I have printed, sold or given away thousands of my mini-comics, floppies and magazines. All over this crazy earth.

Somehow I have largely existed as an outsider in Western comics. Other than a few supportive cats in the southwest comics scene like Brian Pulido. I feel like they largely just ignore my comics. I have had a few pros refer to my work as ‘zines’ as a sort of insult.

I started Blood Desert as a big middle finger to the whole corporate comics crowd. The main character is stuck with a permanent middle finger. Good luck co-opting that sucktards.

When I complete the World of Knonx series I wanna only make comics that are a massive fuck you to that whole unimaganitive self indulgent English centric corporate comics world. I wanna make comics for shitheads all over the world like me.

Most of the comics in the mainstream indie world are leftovers from that hokey auto-bio movement. All of them are still pining over Crumb and Pekar to this day.

Who knew making super boring comics about your masturbation habits and history no one cares about would be considered as works of high literary art. I guess it is an easy claim to make when the critics also work for the publishers of said high grade comic “art.”

That is just the indy crowd. At this point most people’s knowledge of modern comics comes from dopey stupor hero comics and movies that are made for mouthbreathers by ex-television writers.

These books are made by “Professional” comic book writers that get top billing over a bunch of lazy artists. These are the same “professionals” who waste their time all day on Twitter and YouTube race baiting each other and blathering nonsense about politics. Somehow they can never seem to get books out on time or any real work done. Go figure.

Can we all just agree that the comics Youtubers are totally obnoxious. Normal people do not care about all your dumb nerd drama. The “comics news” channels love to foment drama in the industry to make money off of more views. They live to promote division among creators. Mind numbing 4 hour live streams of inane political blather. Interviewing the same old industry jobbers about some dopey superhero comic they made 20 years ago. Effete dorks gushing jizz in their whitey tighties over their wonton nostalgia.

These formerly bullied nerds bully each other constantly online. Doxing, Blacklisting, Censoring, Attacking and Canceling each other. Bunch of grade school kid popularity bullshit. I want absolutely NO part of either side’s dysfunctional cult. These sad people must love to live in a heightened state of anxiety.

There are 100s of amazing prolific working storytellers chomping at the bit to talk about and sell their titles. Why not interview and promote these creators. Artists who choose not to engage in either side’s petty childish games. Those creators are largely ignored or admonished for not taking sides.

The industry seems to only want to dwell in nostalgia? A Nostalgia that actually hurts creators. I really wanna talk about Alan Moore.

Let’s all wax about the greatness of Watchmen ONE last time and finally let it go. Watchmen is the comic book Alan Moore won’t even have in his house because of the disdain he has for the American comics industry.

Comics culture could care less about Alan. They talk about his work gushing with praise. Then they call the man a nutter behind his back.

The majority of the comics press treated him like a clown and discounted his opinions at every turn.

Watchmen, the comic they keep in print just so Alan does not regain any of the rights back.

By promoting and working on Watchmen in any way they are all pretty much saying fuck you to Alan. It is just accepted by everyone. “Oh well! We should just keep screwing this dude cause we all really love those characters.” It is shameful.

Shall I go on about the other creators that were screwed by this “industry”. Seigel, Shuster, Kirby, Finger, Simon and so many more.

The House of Morons track record with creatives is just as terrible. It would take all day to list the Big two’s transgressions against their freelancers.

All their Editors in Chief make millions while their freelancers get crumbs.

Or maybe there is hope in the price gouging comic book store owners. They did nothing but complain about Diamond and the Big 2’s scams non stop for years. Then they still lap up everything they do or make like pablum. Accepting and still embracing this constant abuse. Over and over and over. I wonder if the majority of store owners are into BDSM?

Should I bother mentioning all the sex predators that the major comics companies have been covering for?

So now after a long career and all my hard work building a loyal following I am supposed to kiss ass and play nice as a potential artist for them. I am supposed to work on shit I don’t care about? I get to beg for a job doing interior pages for less than minimum wage and no healthcare? No thanks. I am busy building my own worlds not piggybacking on the stolen worlds of others.

The US comics “industry” is kind of a total joke to me at this point.

ZL – It sounds like you are existing as part of a community though, maybe not an American comics community, but an international underground art community, does that seem fair to say?

AY – I was actually becoming a big part of the community for a popular comics Youtube channel for a minute until I was excommunicated. The two creators that host the channel constantly espouse to be a bastion for indie creators. As Maury Povich likes to say…” that is a lie.”

The channel blacklisted me because of a mini comic I did showing cartoon portraits of accused sex predators and general jerks working in the American comics industry.

I am not part of Comicsgate or any other stupid comics cult. I am not a lecherous ogre who harasses women at comics shows. I am a boring family man who makes weird comics. I speak through my art not by posting constant drama online.

I made a mini comic that someone didn’t like. That was it. Instead of finding out my side of things related to the matter these hosts just booted the videos my comics were featured in off their channel. They also had admins remove my posts off other platforms related to them. I was blatantly censored by these “artists.”

So looking back I think it had nothing to do with that mini comic. They have featured sexually violent work like Vigil’s. My stuff is tame in comparison. I feel they were threatened by my output and my dopey little youtube channel. Which is laughable.

I have worked tirelessly my whole career to support marginalized creators in my community and around the world for over 20 years.

At this point I would rather work with the people who get what I do and dwell in quiet obscurity rather than work with these kinds of self-serving troglodyte hacks that are so prevalent in the medium of modern mainstream comics and the art world.

Most of these “pro comic artists” are just glorified fan artists with a little bit of stylized skill. I think that’s why all their books are so derivative of all the other stuff in the mainstream lexicon. They dwell in constant nostalgia and their work is proof of it.

I actually feel sorry for them. To have so little faith in yourself that you have to try to take down other artists is such a sad pathetic way to live.

One thing you can count on with some artists and comics creators. Their egos are as fragile as glass.

Comics culture in the US is steeped in all this kind of nonsensical dogma. It has become an idiotic cult of reactionary clones with Youtube and Twitter accounts.

ZL – Thinking about that wider world of community and how there’s always been an underground arts community and sometimes people travelled through them, often linked to universities or small art publications. Do you feel like that community is something that is now easier to achieve and to curate for yourself with social media, but it involves a lot of effort and commitment to do that and that’s why it takes those in a scene, those dug into that creative feeling, to do that kind of curation?

AY – I guess It is easier to find new stuff now, but there is a lot of oversaturation online. Lots of skilled but boring fan art. Way too much fan art online.

All the crowdfunded stuff is pretty boring and derivative of the mainstream comics they say they hate. Plus there is a high failure rate. Very slow/low delivery rate on those projects that nobody likes to talk about.

I kind of wish the companies cracked down on all the IP theft at shows and online the way they do obscenity. Before the pandemic the comic conventions in the states sucked for indie creators because of all the fanart.

ZL – Yeah, that seems to be a big issue all round, but it’s also tricky as a lot of indie creators make bucks doing commissions of existing mainstream IP. I also think that the move from mini comics and zines to pop-culture sources and attempts to be as professional as professional comics has done a lot of unspoken damage. Yeah, sure, you get a lot of a crowd, but how many are BUYERS?

AY – That is why I stopped making any kind of fanart about 15 years ago including commissions. I think fan art and commissions are a crutch for artists to lean on.

To me it shows a lack of ability to tell stories or have faith in their own creations. They are too afraid to go all in and only make and sell their own comics. They wanna draw cool spidey pin-ups not tell stories with art. There is a huge difference between the two kinds of artists.

The best Mangaka spend their whole careers telling these long form epic stories. We should aspire to that aesthetic not do a bunch of cool variant covers.

It is easy to draw an existing IP. The design and imaginative work was done for you. You are just a human copy machine. It takes a lot of time and faith to go all in on your own ideas. I think a lot of artists try it and just give up and fall back on selling fan art at shows.

I do great at shows without any fan art. You don’t need it. I think selling fan art actually hurts indie creators. They are selling books for our competition.

If you just offer people something new and different and work hard to sell that work they will buy it. I offer people something that is unique. Not just another Deadpool print or sketch.

ZL – Do you see yourself as part of a comics lineage, either style or approach wise? Do you feel it’s important to leave your own mark on the world, hence the making of items rather than posting online, or are you interested in building a space for now or are you trying to just get out what needs to be got out to keep your brain quiet?

AY: Comics lineage is less of a thing now because of oversaturation in the medium. Everyone can make and print their own comics now. So the key is to have your own style of storytelling. I don’t like the autobio comics genre but at least they know how to tell a story.

That’s why I think physical media is still very important. An artist is not curtailed by the formats of printing anymore. You can adjust your style to any kind of printing process now. It used to be the other way around.

Aesthetically I want my work to be as beautiful and be as prolific as Osamu Tezuka was. Dark and creepy as Hideshi Hino‘s. Confrontational and cooky as Mike Diana‘s. With a mad dose of the dark action of a 2000AD Magazine.

Boiled Angel – Mike Diana

ZL – I don’t know if you’re old enough to remember the Mike Diana obscenity case and the outcome of that ridiculous situation? It was big, even in UK comic magazines at the time. I remember them telling him that he wasn’t even allowed to draw AT HOME and that they would be coming in to check that he wasn’t drawing! So, I guess there’s that as a check to what we were saying about social media silencing creators, it’s not like it’s a new phenomenon, sadly.

AY – I started getting into making fucked up comics at the same time as him. I was making One Last Day which is nowhere near as extreme or pornographic as Mike’s stuff, but it was really violent. His case scared me into being real careful who I sent my books to.

ZL – When did you first encounter Mike Diana’s work, then and what’s so inspiring about it?

AY- I have seen more of his work recently. I like the absolute absurdity of it. It was so hard to get out here in the west coast unless you ordered it. I am not a big fan of pornographic or cheesecake comics. I do like some of the cruder stuff that is just too weird to be arousing. The work exists more as a piece of weird art rather than porn in some odd way. I have not gotten to read a ton of his stuff. He is actually a big fan of mine on Instagram. The punk rock kid in me loves seeing a block of “likes” by Mike. I have mailed him a bunch of my comix for trade.If he is reading this “Yo man! You gotta mail me some of your books!” Heh!

ZL – I’m also intrigued to know how you found out about 2000AD as my understanding is that it’s not well known over in the US. What’s your favourite strip from there?

AY: I got a huge run of the re printed 2000AD and Dredd comics from a comic store when I was 13. I really love the old Rogue Trooper strips the most. They were some of the best sci fi war comics made essentially. Those artists were all emulating those old Action war comics they were reading

Rogue Trooper – War Machine by dave Gibbons and Will Simpson

Rogue Trooper – War Machine is a work of comics art. It definitely inspired a lot in my Blood Desert series. “The Fatties” stories in the early Judge Dredd strips are some of my all time favorite comics. I have read them a hundred times. It is just so nuts. I love that line between absurd and gross.

The Fatties – Judge Dredd

ZL – Oh yeah, those early works were really UK punk as punk can be! I’m surprised you like Rogue Trooper more than Nemesis though, Pat Mills and especially Kev O’Niell’s art is extreme as extreme art gets in comics back then. You mention in many interviews I’ve read that Japanese comics, particularly horror comics, have been an influence. How much influence do you see from Japanese horror comics in small press and self-publishing circles, it’s something I see a lot of in the creators I follow for sure, but I’m wondering what your experience is?

AY – I follow the underground Japanese scene pretty well. I am pen pals/friends with some of the newer japanese horror artists. It is funny. They all wanna get published here and I want to get published there.

There are huge barriers in Japanese comics for Westerners. I would kill to get World of Knonx published in Japan. It is specifically designed and made for a world audience. It needs no translation. Manga publishers should be more open to Western comic artists the way we have.

I have grown very weary of all manga flooding the market lately. Most of it is just nicer formated versions of reprints of that older stuff I read in the 80s. It is not the weird upcoming stuff you see on the shelves.

The American publishers bend over backwards to reproduce a lot of Manga but largely ignore American artists working at the same level of productivity. It has become a one way street.

ZL – I see that a lot of publishers seem less inclined to have cartoony horror, they seem to have decide it must all be cheesecake or more realistic, I mean, you’re not going to see the likes of Shaun McManus on Swamp Thing art chores nowadays, which seems absurd because cartooning lets you play up emotions or gore without it getting all pornographic and seedy. I wonder if part of it is that as well, they want everything in that style. It’s also something that’s changed in horror as well. You think about something like Saw and how realistic those horror movie effects are compared to, say Friday the 13th, it’s changed what horror is. You could laugh at those things, not so much Saw, they’re far more EARNEST and wanting to show things REALISTICALLY.

AY- Yes! Exactly. I have been embracing the cartoon aspect of comics very heavily. Cartooning is dying in comic books not just in the horror scene. Comics have lost the ability to move the fans to a desired emotion.

I think it has to do with the industry’s reliance on writers. Artists are usually more creative and experimental than writers. Artists think in images and writers think in words. Writers can hammer out stories all day. The storytelling artist has to really think about every panel in a conscious way and how it will move the story. Images should drive comics not inane narrative. I should be able to understand the story in a comic by just looking at the art. If not then both the writer and artist have failed. Being able to type does not automatically make your stories interesting. Kirby’s cartooning made all those comics great not Stan and his stupid dialogue.

Personally I don’t wanna spend 12 hours drawing the perfect building in a panel that no one will care about. I wanna move the story. Cartooning creates a fluidity through the pages that perfect structure loses. Manga is great at moving you through a story in that way.

ZL – So, in all of the ways you make things and with all of your feelings about being a part of US comics and international makers, what place do you see your new youtube videos playing into what you do? Is it more boredom relief or is it a way of pumping up awareness of the community you enjoy?

AY: I do the YouTube channel for fun and to shed light on independent creators. I also wanna try to create a new narrative in comics. Not just regurgitate the one fed to us by reactionary corporate comix culture.

ZL – Why the trash talking of something at the end? I ask because I have this pet theory that there’s a strong link between people doing underground comics currently, especially over the top gross out ones, and wrestling and I’m wondering whether that’s a bunch of nonsense I’ve made up, or whether this is like the trash talk between wrestlers, a funny sort of way to make a point about something, to build some low stakes drama? Or, is it a way to disarm a serious point by making it funny!

AY: A little bit of both I guess. There is some carney action to all creatives who do it for a living. I think a long life as an artist hardens you.

Comic book artists could learn a lot from Tattooists. Talk to a hardcase who has been making money everyday drawing. The one doing it in your hometown the longest. That is someone who can teach you a lot. They have had to put up with so much stupid shit from customers and society. They have a confidence and respect for their trade few artists do. They have real confidence that is inspiring. They won’t even fuck with some stupid walk-in. They are not gonna deal with some kid who wants a shitty Mickey Mouse tat. Some hokey fan art commission bullshit. People pay them good fucking money for their original style, skill and creativity. Comic artists conceded all that when they settled for being what amounts to storyboarders for ex-TV writers.

Artists have to always remember Western society devalues you at every turn. You really have to learn to sell your art and self. Your skin better be real thick. You hear “no” and that “you will fail” constantly! You will work your ass off just to barely make it in most creative fields.

ZL – Yeah, that really comes with the territory, especially if you’re coming at it from an underprivileged background, art seems to still be a very middle class opportunity and still seems to need strong patronage to make a living, so if you’re aren’t populist or aren’t from the right background you need to get money from somewhere else or learn to live cheap.

AY – Starting out it is always a struggle in any field but comics has kind of embraced and even fostered failure among it’s creatives. A perfect example. No one with the talent level of Tim Vigil’s should ever be living in poverty. Which he pretty much is. If Tim started in tattoos he would probably be pretty set by now. Instead he chose to work in comics.

ZL – You seem to be really knocking out your comics and developing an amazing backlist. I remember sharing a video where, I think that you were drawing a page from The Lottery, where you were filling in your spot blacks with this chunky dip pen nib and that just seemed like it would take a long time to get work done! So, I’m wondering whether you’ve changed up a gear and started doing lots of work, or am I just in circles where I’m seeing you pop up and you’ve been constantly busy for a long time?

AY – I mainly use a brush for large areas. Sometimes a fat nib. I have had the same process for the last 10 years. I have always had a pretty good work ethic with my art but my tools are just that. Lots of trial and error for the first 5-10 years. I had no one to help or any training. I am a lot faster at inking with some modern stuff but it is still the same process it has always been. I try to only work full time M-F 9-5. I love creating so much I get addicted to it. I will draw 18 hours straight if I am not careful.

ZL – What inspired you to get making, not necessarily the style you make, but the actual circumstances behind you getting yourself together to put out comics instead of just sketching or posting online? What is the difference for you between posting online and publishing?

AY – Posting online is just a form of promo to me. Online is so ephemeral. I feel printed comics and animation is the best way to tell new stories and get them out. Period. It is hard to say what inspired me to start creating. I can tell you how I create though.

I have always hated the idea of needing drugs, a muse or constant inspiration as motivation. It is not a sustainable model. It is a crutch for lazy artists to lean on. We all can learn skills and borrow from influences to make pretty art but real creativity comes from our imaginations.

Clive Barker said it in interview after interview for years! He spoke of how fostering the imagination is being lost and even stifled in today’s world. He stressed the utmost importance for working artists and children to have an active and focused imagination. He is the greatest living horror artist of our age. The Poe of our time and everyone completely ignored him!!

Well I didn’t! I would meditate and do mental exercises daily for years to try and imagine whole working worlds. Clive was 100% right. I don’t get artists’ block or any of that shit.

This is gonna sound super new age but it is the best way to explain it. With short meditation techniques I can light the fire of creativity instantly now. It can keep me awake some nights if I let it. My mind’s eye fills with the most moving and colorful images you could ever imagine. I have learned to embrace it and snatch stuff from the ether. It’s like a true form of art magick. When I break into the astral plane of endless creativity it recharges my inner being and overwhelms my soul with love, and joy. I am flooded with new ideas constantly. The Buddhists actually have a name for this place but the name escapes me.

ZL – I remember reading that Moebius, Jean Giraud, the French comic artist took a similar approach, that he drew all his Moebius strips in a semi-conscious state of meditation, so it seems reasonable for you to do the same!

AY – Exactly! I have read that and felt a kinship with him. I think Jim Woodring works in a similar fashion as well.

ZL – Yeah, I’ve read that about Jim Woodring as well.

Looping back a second to The Lottery, I really admire the style of character design, the shapes you put down on the page, that I’ve seen in that. I’m guessing, from what you’ve just said, that much of these things arrive semi or fully formed? How much planning do you put into character design and story content and then could you give a general idea to how you approach a story and what you’re trying to achieve with your stories?

AY: Like I said prior, the initial ideas will come like a flood or in pieces. I will mentally ��hang on” to my favorite ideas and build a story around them. Once I get most of it all sorted out in my brain I will do some general super loose thumbnails of a story or idea or the whole book. Sometimes I will start with a one shot style story and expand on it. The one shots will inspire more stories or ideas for other worlds as well.

ZL – I know we touched on this earlier, but I’d like to dig deeper into whether you’re making money and what sort of sales you’re achieving, because, you know, I’m just damn nosey! More seriously though, I think part of making and why people cease making is an unrealistic idea of what can be achieved within an arena. The amount of people coming into comics and underground comix all thinking they’ll end up on Adult Swim or bankrolling a comfortable life always saddens me. You know they will get worn out banging their drum to sell 10 copies and lose hundreds because they completely over print.

Which is a very tortured way of asking whether you make money from your comics or, at least break even? Are you happy to tell us numbers of sales and if not exact amounts of income, what sort of percentage of your income comes from your comic sales and for context, the kind of lifestyle you currently live?

AY: I grew up pretty poor. I was out on my own at around 17 with zero money. So it has not been an easy road for me in art and comics. I am not complaining, I have made good money off my comix.

I print modestly with print on demand services. I can print a few copies up to a few 100 at a time. It just depends on demand. You don’t need to have a warehouse of stuff. I focus on the stuff that does well.

It took a long time but I am in a great spot on my own. Because of the virus a lot of the mainstream crowd are kind of sitting around with their dicks in their hands. While I am hammering out stories. I am 100% owner of all my titles. I am not an LLC so a corporation can’t get my “creative content” without my direct consent.

Luckily I don’t really need them. I have done the math, I make way more per page and book then I ever would with a publisher. I can create, print, promo, mail and repeat. I have no need for censors, editors, publishers, stores, mob run distro or other middle men. They are all just standing between me and making the profit from my books.

No one will admit it, but the Cerebus model is still the best model for creators to sell their comics. If you are serious about ownership. More people should have the same faith in their work as Dave Sim does. Only without being a total jerk.

ZL – I’m guessing your politics don’t mesh with his, but I think Dave Sim is definitely someone who has lessons for self-publishers and creators alike. If you were going to pass on any of his advice, how would you summarise what you’ve taken from his example?

AY – His politics aside he was pretty cantankerous in most of his interviews but he was not afraid to speak his mind. Everyone is so afraid to speak up in fear of never getting or keeping that “sweet corporate comics gig”.

Dave was right about a lot of stuff. If you can’t stand up for your own work then who will? Before I started reading all his interviews I thought he was just a jerk but now I kind of get his anger. I could only imagine what the mainstream tried to pull back then when they saw he wouldn’t play ball. What’s worse is nothing has changed really. All the shit he was raving about in comics is the same or even worse.

I think he was really hated by the industry when he started speaking out about all the shadiness going on. It always felt the comics press started attacking his political stances after he started to state his opinions about the practices of some of these publishers. I don’t agree with him on a lot of stuff politically but he never backed down and stayed true to his ideals. I admire him for that.

Comics has a long sordid history of trying to silence voices they don’t want to hear. It has happened to me and many others still to this day.

ZL – How long has it taken to build up your back catalogue and what sort of tail end do you currently see on your titles, are we talking release and then forget it, sustained sales over months/years or occasional bumps when you get new titles out?

AY – It took 20 years to build the whole catalogue of large format stuff. I have printed 100s of different minis along the way. I now just mainly sell my larger format floppy and magazine stuff that does well continuously. I do have a goal to be able to fill a whole small magazine size comic book box with all my different floppy comics and mags.

ZL – And how far away from that goal are you?

AY – I have never actually checked. I would say I am well over halfway there.

ZL – How do your sales and income compare to where you thought you’d be when you first started making your comics or did you not really care about that, other than not losing money?

AY: It is a weird thing that exists in indie comics. It is like they are ashamed of making money.

You hear so much altruism in indie comics. “It is not always about the money man.” Tell that dumb shit to a career tattooist. They will laugh in your stupid face while they make $200 bucks an hour and drive off in their fully customized Dodge Challenger. While you stand there with a handful of comics and empty pockets.

We should look at indy comics like tattooing or a little like a one man touring metal band or rap act. People wanna buy my books for my nutty unique style. So, yeah I am doing better than I ever could have dreamed of in such a dismal backwards looking field. I would rather be like a Tech 9 or Frank Zappa in comics.

ZL – Last question, for you as a fan now, if you could get everyone in the world to read one of your books or series and a book or series by someone else, what would it be?

AY: Out of all my books I would say the World of Knonx series is my crowning achievement. I dumped every skill I have developed into one massive tale.

Park Bench – by Christophe Chabouté. It is one of the most amazing comics made in the last few years. It is one of the most beautiful comics ever made. It flows like water. It is the zen of comix. I cried the first time I read It.

Park Bench – by Christophe Chabouté

I only make silent or wordless comics. So that is mainly what I am into. It is more common in European comics. So I try to mainly follow works coming from there.

Comics should move us and excite us. Gross you out or move you to a new place emotionally. Not just be inane 80s TV sitcom serials. I am only interested in comics that exist and aspire to be comics. I have no interest in storyboards with dialogue.

ZL – Thanx for your time Adam!

AY- Thanks for this in-depth interview. It is not often I get to talk deeply about things in comix that I care about. I never really get to explain how I create or how I truly feel about the medium.

I am grateful for the opportunity to speak my mind. To everyone who has ever supported me and my art. I truly frikkin’ love you all!!

all art copyright and trademark its respective owners.

Adam Yeater, underground comix creator, talks in depth about his practice, his work and how comics remains closed to many outside of mainstream companies #comics #horror #underground #selfpublishing #fantasy #inspiration We spoke to Adam a little while ago about his influences and inspirations and found his answers intriguing, so we decided to dive in and dig a bit deeper.

#comics #horror #illustration #interview #smallpress #zines

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years

Text

J.B.B (15)

Bucky x fem!Reader

Series: Will contain fluff, smut, bloodshed, violence, anxiety, tears and the cries of my wilted soul. Yes, the usual. With a dash of the not so liked canon that I wanted to set on fire and drop into a 2000 ft deep valley.

Chapter content: The Endgame stuff and more more.

Warnings: Pain. Anxiety.

Word count: shhhh! Just shhh!

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, doll

"Can I help you with that?"

You knew the voice. And you wanted to avoid it. But considering the fact you were standing in his goddamn hardware store, there was no escaping it.

"Oh, thank you, Ben," you acknowledged, "but I'm good. I got it."

Clutching the basket filled with soldering iron, transmitters and capacitors, safe wires and kid's walkie talkies, you passed a smile of gratitude at 'handsome Ben'- as Tony liked to call him, thanks to those doe eyes and cutting looks- before walking towards the billing counter.

You liked visiting Ben's store. It was never too crowded to make you feel lost and never too vacant to make you anxious in the huge space. And you had to admit Ben's presence in the place always made it ten times brighter. You never wanted to admit it out loud but he was one of the reasons you looked forward to visiting the town market. This guy had been a soft ray of sunshine since the day you bumped into him while trying to decide which remote-controlled car to buy for the daughter of a genius. He had been quite patient with your requests to please Morgan that day. And then it was a series of bumping-into-each-other incidents for the next few weeks, helping each other out through daily stuff while enjoying the time together.

"Soooooo," you heard Ben, watching him scratch the back of his neck in nervousness from the corner of your eye, making you bite down on your lip to stop the smile forming over them, "you and Morgan still working on Ivy?"

You gently put the basket of supplies on the counter and faced Ben, whose height reminded you that there were people out there who towered you like giants. "Yeah. Morgan's the brain. I'm the muscle. And the adult she needs to work the solder. And the tester. Her little robot is coming out pretty fine if you ask me."

Ben nodded and smiled. You could see the faint flush of pink under those fair cheeks while the wisp of his cologne could tell you he was getting heated on the nervousness building inside him. That poor guy had to hide it all by running his hand through his long hair. Just...just like-

"You going to the farmer's market?"

"Hm?" It was like you had just broken a glass wall he had been standing behind to admire you from afar.

"I'm going to the farmer's market. Have to get some blueberries. Tony's alpaca ate all the ones Pepper grew so...would you like to join me?"

He stood there frozen for a second. "Yeah," he finally blurted, his eyes going soft before lighting up. "Yeah."

The ride back home was filled with a car smelling of all the fresh vegetable scents and new soothing memories of an afternoon well spent with a new friend. The hues of the evening were running past the window along with the trees that humbly welcomed you every day back to your abode in the woods beside a peaceful lake.

Morgan will be excited for this, you thought to yourself as you side-eyed the new fruit Ben had bought you to try. It had been ages since you'd seen this juicy delicacy from your homeland. Yeah, but that can only happen if she and Tony don't experiment on it first.

Stopping the car in front of your house, you picked up the bags with a string of excitement playing inside you. It was game night and you were going to play charades and if there was anything that Tony had learned was that any team that had you in it always won. And he learned that the hard way when he teamed you up with Morgan.

You could see Gerald standing by the back of the house facing your yard, turning slowly to look your way as if he was sniffing those blueberries in your grocery bag from miles away.

"No, Gerald," you shook your head, swinging the bag away from his intrusive nose, "not today. I got something else for you though. I'll give it to you after dinner."

Gerald hummed, watching you cross the lawn to make it to the front of the house as Pepper walked out hurriedly.

"Hey, Pepper!"

"Hey, hon!" She called out, her voice carrying a little break somewhere in there, being hidden by the smile she gave you, "come let's have dinner," she added, pointing you to the kitchen door she'd just come out of.

"Oh, I'll be with you in a minute," you stated while skipping a step and raising the bags in your hand, "I just gotta show Morgan and Mr Stark something first."

"Y/N, sweetie, wait-"

She wasn't able to finish her sentence, for you were already two steps to the front porch, getting your excitement ready for the little one.

"Hey, Magoona! You're not gonna believe what Ben and I found in the mar-"

The last word didn't drop. It took a dive from the highest mountain and fell without any trace in the deepest of valleys with nothing but darkness. Just like your heart did on watching Steve, Natasha and a stranger standing on the porch with Tony. Morgan, who had been embracing Tony right that very second, felt her ears perk up at your voice, taking a tiny gasp before wiggling out of her father's protective hold to run down the steps and hug you by the legs, shrieking your name in excitement.

"Y/N! Ivy food!"

It wasn't until you felt Morgan's hug that you realised you'd been standing there, breathless, watching Steve's face bring all the memories back- the darkness, the dust, the tears and the crumbling of any last speck of hope left inside you. Had it not been for Morgan's hold, you were surely about to fall flat onto the ground, clenching your chest for air as the battle cries and stench of blood rose from the dormant crests of your hidden fears.

Tony saw. Natasha too. Steve couldn't miss it even if he wanted to.

"Magoona!" Tony softly shouted for his little one, "help Y/N with those bags, would you?"

Morgan took the two lightest bags and walked back up the porch to go inside as the stranger held the door for her.

"Y/N, are you al-"

Steve's voice made the infant ache inside your chest worse, making you gently dump the rest of the bags on the ground before stepping away to find space to breathe.

"Steve, I think you should go." You could hear Tony say as you walked back to your safe space.

"Tony she deserves to know," you heard Steve this time, "she deserves to know she has a chance of getting back Buck-"

You didn't realise the step, tripping on the concrete block and scrapping your knee, feeling no part of your body wanting to break the fall. And when there was an impact, no part of you wanted to get back up.

It was a blur, the next few moments. Two pair of arms were trying to support your weight on them to help you get back on your feet. But everything was distant. The voices calling out your name were dominated by the ever-increasing pressure in your chest and the unwelcome heat all over your body was not helping it.

"Y/N. Y/N? Are you okay?"

"Y/N, sweetie, can you hear me?"

"Guys, just hold her, okay?"

"Why? What are you gonna-"

A wave of cold struck your heated cheeks, jolting you out of the anxiety-ridden tenace to face gentle green eyes. "It's okay," they whispered, before the cold travelled to your neck, "you're okay."

"Nat," you whispered back, letting your arms wrap themselves around her frame.

"I got you," she responded softly, taking you in her hold, "I got you. Come on."

The fire in your modest living room crackled while Natasha drew the curtains. You sat on the carpeted floor next to the fire with a bottle of water in your hand, rubbing your forehead to get rid of the images springing inside your head.

"No, I think you've done enough for today Steve."

"Tony. Please. I just wanna meet her as a friend, I promise."

The muffled voices outside your door caught your attention. Natasha's too.

"We'll leave," she mentioned out of the blue, her smile warm as ever for you, "we didn’t mean to ruin your dinner plans."

"No," you shook your head, shutting the bottle, "you guys should stay. This...I... it's nothing to do with-I'm fine."

Before Natasha could say more, you got up and walked to the door to open it and see a furious Tony looking at nearly-down-on-his-knees Steve before they turned- finding all their emotions dissolving into one big pile of worry- in your direction.

"Sorry about that," you apologised, "let's have dinner," and walked out towards Tony's place like nothing had happened, leaving even Natasha a bit unsettled.

"The pie is amazing," the stranger, who introduced himself as Scott Lang, exclaimed.

I like this guy.

"Y/N made it" Tony added. Steve and Natasha could see the little puff in his chest as he mentioned that information. "She makes mean pies and noodles."

"And pasta," Steve muttered.

"Y/N, can we have creamy pasta tomorrow?" A voice called from the other side of the table- opposite where you sat. Morgan looked at you with her beautiful pleading eyes before stealing a look at Steve.

"Yes. Sure!" You smiled back at the little one, making her grin in delight at the Captain.

"Will you have pasta with us tomorrow?" She asked Steve, Scott and Natasha.

Straight to the point. You snickered internally on watching the gaping mouths looking at Morgan in shock.

"We'd love to!" Scott finally broke the silence that Pepper was probably going to fill with 'who wants some ice cream'. "But we have to go to work tomorrow."

"Oh," Morgan exclaimed, going back into her chair while pressing her lips and looking up at the ceiling, "hmm. We'll save some for you then."

Steve smiled at her. "Thank you, Morgan! That's very nice of you."

"It's okay. We'll have plenty because mommy and daddy don't eat it much. They say it's for the weak and lazy."

You and Scott nearly choked on your food while Tony coughed and Natasha tried to stop her giggle snort. Eventually, the entire table burst into a fit of laughter, making the tiniest member the happiest.

"Hey, can I talk to you?"

A second of confused surprise later, Steve nodded in your direction. "Yeah."

You walked down the porch midway between the Starks and your place.

Before Steve could follow you, he felt a tug on his arm, making him turn to face Tony standing at the door, looking at everyone else trickle down towards the driveway.

"Rogers-"

"Tony, I heard you loud and clear-"

"She still has nightmares."

A gentle breeze blew through the quiet estate, bringing with it a sombre song of the rustle of leaves and the last call of birds going back home.

Even in the fading light, it was hard for Steve to miss the pain in his friend's eyes as he tried to blink away the flashbacks of nights he would wake up from a satisfying slumber to find the air shatter into pieces with your screams. So intense were your wails, there were times Tony had feared your lungs might collapse and end it all. Every such night, he was there, running through your front door, to your room to find you curled up in a corner sweating and screaming at some invisible void till he would softly announce himself and take you in his embrace, finding himself trying to undo everything on Titan, making sure you did not disappear from his arms. Not this time.

"She still cries at night because of what she lost as if she hasn't seen worse and she has," Tony stressed, his eyes nearly giving him away.

Steve stood there, frozen, looking at a father and a friend, fighting for the ones that were left behind.

The breeze swirled around them, singing a faint ballad of the dusk and sleep.

"Don't give her hope until you're sure you can bring her happiness back."

Stepping away with a pat on Steve's shoulder, Tony went ahead to bid farewell to Natasha and Scott- who felt honoured to have been made busy by the little Stark's million questions of curiosity.

Your face did not give away anything to Steve. Maybe you'd lost some weight. Maybe you'd lost some shine in your eyes. Maybe it was the dark circles he was noticing right now. Or the distant look in your gaze that seemed to be looking back in time, trying to avoid pain but never seeming to.

"Hey."

Steve's greeting brought you back to the present.

He hadn't changed. The Brooklyn boy you'd known years back, carrying the weight of this world on his shoulders while punching Nazis for breakfast. He still had the same look. The same brows of concern. The same warmth in his surroundings. The same as his old best friend.

"Are you okay?" You had to ask. "Don't mind Tony. He's just really protective about his family. Especially Morgan."

Steve stood there for a moment before chuckling.

Apparently, you hadn't changed so much either.

"He's... yeah. He's Tony," Steve replied, his head going down to look at the grass under his shoes.

"He has everything to lose right now, Steve," you stated, taking the Brooklyn boy by surprise. "Us? Not so much."

That's it. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry-"

His words were cut short by your arms engulfing his torso, your head resting on his chest, letting you take in his anxious heartbeat. "I miss him too."

He moves his arms around you when the first chilly breeze of the evening started to blow, wanting to protect you from every bad thing in this world; wanting to bring back your happiness and his best friend. If only he had the power to do so.

"If only."

The whisper was left into the air to carry on the winds of hope, never letting any of you know how the tides turned that fateful night by the man who found the answers to the fate of the world when he found the answers to go back in time.

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lucyhblack · 5 years

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How to get a pet for your lamia

This story is based on the "How to raise a Lamia" series from the amazing @damnedxfate.

To better understand it I recommend reading the series first.

English is not my default language, so I hope it is understandable.

Summary: Boss goes to the market and Cherry doesn't get what she asked for... but she can get something better.

Your phone started to vibrate.

With a bit of juggling with the shopping basket, he managed to fish in his pocket without releasing the can of sauce. A quick glance at the screen told him it was a video call. He quickly accepted to see whose it was.

- Cherry? - The nervous lamia twitched on the small screen. Edge looked closely at his mate for damage or something that might have happened in the few hours that had left him alone. Seeing with relief that he looked good the tall skeleton frowned. It was not unusual for the hybrid to call him, but he had only been gone for two hours. - What happened?

-Boss! - Cherry squeaked happily - Boss, market?? - He swayed from side to side and stretched as if that allowed him to see where Edge was at the moment. Suppressing a smile at cute behavior, he answered in the affirmative.

Cherry let out an excited hiss and disappeared for a moment from the screen, Edge raised a curious eyebrow bone with unusual behavior. The little one returned with a folded newspaper to make it easy to carry and to show the announcement that will catch his attention.

-Buy Boss... Pleassse?? - He pleaded.

Edge approached the screen so that he could see better. It was some advertisement for a new savory flavor ... Mustard, of course!

He sighed. It was not the first time Cherry had asked her to buy anything, especially if it was in the taste of the bitter and spicy yellow spice. He did not like to give such greasy, industrialized things, but he had also promised that he could try on various kinds of food.

His favorite "food" was Edge himself, but his second food of choice would definitely be mustard, anything with her. Edge debated internally. Cherry was on a balanced diet, its nutritional and magical levels were good and some occasional snacks would not hurt. His lamia was well behaved and almost never asked for anything (other than his attention and affection to which Edge was more than happy to provide). Looking at the expectant and slightly begging face made his decision.

-Right. But only one!

It was definitely worth it just to see and hear your joy. He felt his own smile bloom just to fade quickly. One second Cherry was hugging the grateful newspaper, the next he froze and stared at something off the screen.

-Cherry? What's it?! - He asked in alarm.

Edge watched the little being freeze, its sweet little face turn into a mask of dread and let out a strangled cry. Before she could say anything Cherry fled, her red tail bumping where her cell phone was propped and flinging it abruptly to the floor.

He did not realize when the basket fell from his hand, or when he turned and started walking in quick steps to the exit, only realized he was already in the middle of the parking lot when he almost "ran over" a car looking for parking .

On the cell phone, everything became a confusing blur for a few seconds before the camera focused on the living room ceiling and part of the couch. An off-white blur was all he could see before the screen was blocked by something. One more confusing moment with light and indistinct shadows before everything went dark. He thought the phone was turned off, but soon realized that even though the camera was not picking up anything, the microphone was still working and was catching the muffled shouts of his panicked lover.

What was a brisk walk became a full run.

Whatever was happening he couldn't see anymore. He could still vaguely hear Cherry screaming, sometimes screams of terror, sometimes her name and calls for help, sometimes interspersed with noises of falling things.

"Who?!!"he wondered as he ended the call. He couldn't hear her lover's screams without doing anything. He quickly turned on the surveillance camera system he had installed throughout the house. In one of them he would see what was happening, and especially the bastard who had invaded his house!

Running through the options he selected the cameras in the room. At first he can not see anything, switching to the second saw a rapid movement. There it was! Cherry running from behind the couch and diving under the table. A second later his stalker appeared on the screen.

He felt his nonexistent heart stop.

It was the cat! The damn annoying cat!

The stray cat that had prowled the neighborhood for some time. No one could ever catch him, he was the master of escape and invasion, always sneaking into his house, appearing in the most inconvenient places, and never falling into the "traps" he and others in the neighborhood set. That was why it had been nicknamed "affectionately" an annoying cat.

He had found him prowling his trash one night. A ball of grayer than white fur, with a tattered ear and a tail that once cleaned and brushed would be glorious, but at the moment it looked like an old bottle-cleaning brush. He bet that beneath the thick fur the pathetic thing was just bones.

The two faced each other in silence. The feline ready to defend his possible loot and the tall, dark skeleton with a trash bag in his hand. Edge knew he shouldn't do that, but he couldn't be indifferent to the poor creature. He dropped the bag outside the door and went straight into the fridge. There wasn't much, the day of shopping was the next day. Even the milk was gone.

He growled in frustration and was about to close it when he saw the pot with the leftover lasagna he had made. He was sure pasta wasn't ideal for cat food, but it must be better than anything the feline would find in the trash cans.

He took the pot and put it in the microwave for a few minutes. He ran to the door to check. The cat was still on the trash can, glaring at him. As soon as he heard the whistle he ran to the device and fished the pot.

The cat eyed him suspiciously, grunting in warning as he approached. Careful not to scare him, he set the pot down and walked away. The animal looked from the pot to him and back to the pot. With a twitch of his tail he jumped to the ground and went to investigate what the tall monster had left.

Lasagna might not be ideal for animals, but he sure didn't bother with it, willingly attacking the food. Edge came back and fixed another bowl of water and set it a little way away. Not that the pussy cared, so moored was in the pot... the poor thing...

Edge had come back into the house and was distracted by his chores when he later checked on the feline. He picked up the pots and totally forgot about it until days later when he found it again. This time on the kitchen table licking.

After that Edge had met him several times inside his house, sometimes waiting in the middle of the room, but sometimes in the most unusual places like the tall kitchen cupboard or the laundry basket. He never knew when he would meet him (or where), but it seemed he was here to stay... only one day he didn't show up anymore.

Messing about that he was gone, and annoying as he was, Edge had gotten used to the company, when he realized how lonely he was. He had been a few shelters, considering adopting some animal, but was a little reluctant if that was the solution.

The advantage of their "relationship" with the annoying cat was their independence. Out searching the internet about pets and housemates, he heard about hybrids. A being who had enough intelligence to communicate was tempting, but it also seemed to double the work. When researching a little more discovered the breeding center and after "stir the chopsticks" entered as a volunteer. He went to find out how laborious, and compensatory, it would be to have a hybrid. Instead he had his heart stolen by the little red lamia that had become the center of his life.

Center that could be about to become lunch.

Cherry had tried to hide behind or under some furniture, but thanks to being a little chubby, the spaces were a little limited. He could squeeze in a few, but it would take a little effort to do so, and with his hunter so close this was not an option. He slipped back under the table, trying to reach the couch. Maybe he could hide in some pillow when the cat jumped on the table and with the height advantage plunged into its prey.

From the camera angle Edge could not see very well. It didn't look like the cat had hit Cherry hard, but it sure had caught him.

He liked the feline, regardless of whether it drove him crazy with his trespassing tricks, but if he hurt his sweet little Cherry... he would make him a cushion!

Boosting his legs further, he turned the last corner and spotted his house. Without a second thought he clashed into the front door and broke it open.

- CHERRY!!! CHERRY!!! - He burst through the now destroyed door, shouting and looking wildly into the room. The first thing he heard was the purr. He felt his world crumble.

No, no, no...

He felt a sob forming. Oh God! He had not arrived too late... He could not have arrived late! Please it wasn't...

-Boss! - The little fluttering squeak was like music to his ears. He felt his knees shake as he turned. In the middle of the couch was the damn white cat purring like the smallest (and furry) tractor in the world. His claws twitching with pleasure threatening to scratch the upholstery while Cherry was half wrapped half buried in the thick white fur.

-Boss! - He called happy - Can we sstay with him?!!

***

Bonus:

The bell rang.

-Oh! MUST BE EDGE AND CHERRY. Could STRETCH OPEN THE DOOR? - Papyrus ordered from the kitchen.

-Sure, man.

They were in another meeting at Papyrus's house. He and Slim had already arrived and their lamias were in the room playing (or fighting more likely if they took Black's screams and hisses seriously) while they waited for the last members of his small family to arrive.

He opened the door with a teasing tip of his tongue about Mr. Punctuality's delay.

-Hey Edgelord, Cherry! You...- He fell silent as he saw Edge's sour face even angrier than usual. Her eyes wandered to his shoulder for Cherry, and with a shock he noticed that the shy lamia was not in her usual place. Before he could comment on the little one lack, a lively greeting from the region of his heels made him look down at the most unusual scene of his life.

Standing beside Edge's right foot was the largest, worst-looking, shaggy white cat Stretch had ever seen. And that wasn't even the most bizarre part! Mounted on him, and with a smile that threatened to split his skull in two, was Cherry. He held the fur behind the cat's ears as his body tangled around the cat's neck and chest like a living collar.

As the skeleton looked shocked the cat passed him and led his little knight inside. Hearing the voice of his brother Blue and the others came to greet him, but stopped as soon as they saw the cat.

Blue shrieked and Sans quickly pulled his younger brother behind him, ready to protect him with his life. Black of course began to hiss and growl, trying to look much bigger than it was. Alerted by the noise Papyrus and Slim came running from the kitchen and were also shocked by the scene.

The cat stopped in front of the three lamias, casting a disinterested look at them and the two skeletons in the room. His yellow eyes focused on Black not the least bit intimidated by the little hybrid's act of anger.

-Hi!! This Doomfanger! - Proclaimed Cherry by patting her mount's head. - He ... my friend! - Pride and joy dripped into his words.

Stretch slowly turned his face to Edge who had an expression of stoic conformity. Realizing that he was being faced by a sagging chin skeleton, he rolled his blood-red spotlights.

-LONG STORY!!!

#undertale #underfell #underswap #swapfell #sans #papyrus #bittybones #lamia bitty #sans bitty #sans lamia #fontcest #my fic #there is a second chapter

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ourwickedworld · 5 years

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The Rambling Man Travel Review: Reno, Nevada

Reno, Nevada… The Biggest Little City in the world, located mere miles from scenic Lake Tahoe. Reno, known for so many things. Yes, gambling is probably the first thing that creeps into your head as you begin the initial descent into Reno / Tahoe International Airport on the East end of Reno. But, Reno is so much more!! And, to be clear, because in an odd way I get this question more often than not. “No, Reno is not any where near Las Vegas!” Frankly, Sin City is a 6 plus hour car trip away. And, yes, the two Old West towns have some things in common, but the truth is they have more uncommon than you would expect. This is the Silver State, Ramblin with the Rambling Man, checking out the dudeability, the hang outs, the good time, hidden gems…. Rambling, walking, eating, drinking, fishing, hunting, sporting… Rambling into town, and taking in the town for all its worth. From local sporting events, to grabbing a cold beer, or strolling a midnight street in search of every dream inside my soul.

If you want to double down on 11 in a game of black jack, sure… You can take lady luck for a twirl at most locations in Nevada. Heck, you can gamble in the grocery store! Gambling, of course, does not hold a stick to legalized prostitution in the Silver State. A must see “dude event,” a most unique experience while in Nevada. One must visit a brothel. The experience of Ringing the bell, having the ladies line up, and the entire pomp and circumstance of legalized prostitution… This is Nevada!! Embrace it Bro.. And, hey, I am not singing a sad cowboy tune, but one does not have to sleep with a hooker to visit a Brothel. Gentleman, the experience of visiting the Whore House is truly West Coast Cowboy Country Cool. The experience of visiting the relic of the old west sorta makes actually having to bang a hooker totally unnecessary. But, if you do decide to go to Tuna Town in the desert. The house madam at the Brothel, and Brothel ownership, usually have high standards of safety and satisfaction. Plus, the State of Nevada ensures STD safe sex. What a Country! More like what a State. Yes, the only state with Legalized Prostitution, but not the only state with prostitution. As the oldest profession continues its strong industry and economic success globally.

Some suggestions: Mustang Ranch on the outskirts of Reno defines old west prostitution, and if you can avoid the rush of tires truck drivers who frequent the place, the experience is sure to remind you that being a dude is still groovy. The experience is sure to make you proud once again to be the sole proprietor of your personal penis, regardless of size. Mustang offers drinks and libations with the most perfect bar to take in a conversation with one of the many girls patrolling the room. The many patrons, of course, have their own unique stories as well sitting near if you so desire to engage. But, dang it bro, you are on vacation, strike up a conversation. Most Renoites will be more than happy to share a story or two, especially if you are talking golf, hookers, skiing, cold beer, or cards.

I woke up a bit foggy… I think I got home around 3:30 AM, an UBER brought me from Mustang back to my downtown Reno hotel room at the Eldorado Hotel and Casino. I was nude, my clothes from last night thrown over the chair adjacent to my bed, I could still smell the stench of Mustang and Crown Royal bellowing from my garments. What a night… I need some coffee and to walk some of the haze from behind my eyes. I take a quick walk upon exiting the casino doors at the Eldorado, moving South down Virginia St. I then take a right turn on First St.

I arrive at Hub Coffee Roasters on Riverside Dr in Reno. I sit outside, a round table with an extra chair my only company. I sip a tall black coffee and pick at my cheese Danish. My view is of the Truckee River and the adjacent walking trail and park. The trees scream early fall as I sit still listening to the peace of the morning.

On foot one can embrace a new city on a much more intimate level. You can walk almost in slow motion as you take in the new sights, smells, and people. My walk today has a walking path that winds around the Truckee River directly West towards the Keystone Ave Bridge, the Booth St. Bridge, and Idlewild Park. The orange, yellow leaves under my feet, as cool mountain air surrounds me. I hear chirps from a few birds, and the 10:00 AM train and its screech and horn. The water from the river heads East, against my walk. It is a most perfect morning, and I am stoned immaculate in my city by the big lake in the Sierras. You can almost smell that the snow of Winter is near, I walk. My head phones in both ears, music plays, song after song. I hear my playlist, my shuffle playlist. The many songs from Apple I-Tunes subscription.

Three miles is a decent introduction walk to Reno, as I start my daily stroll from Hub Coffee Roasters by directly heading west on the adjacent walking trail… I walk with the morning sun on my back, music keeping me company. Beck, REM, Pearl Jam, Band of Horses, Elliot Smith, Mount Eerie, Bob Dylan…. The Truckee River from the nearby Sierra Nevada Mountain range brings fresh and clear water from the tops of elevated peaks seen in the distance, the river keeps me company as I ramble on. It is a most perfect walk, a mix of solitude, water, fall, and some strange faces. My own music allows me to not skip a beat.

I have a personal tour of a local Cannabis Dispensary at 4 PM. And dinner with an old friend, Clint Cates. Yes, above and beyond gambling and prostitution, Nevada has recently legalized cannabis. Yep, you can literally go pick up a sack at a local retail weed dealer. What a country? And they deliver…

The inner workings of a cannabis dispensary, a bit underwhelming. It is all about security in a cash only business… And, the chronic has some street value, no doubt. So, bullet proof sheet rock, big safes with secret codes and levels of management. Not to mention, a big wall of people. I thought “Starbucks but weed” after 15 minutes into my tour because the Mynt Dispensary in Downtown Reno. The place was packed, all sorts of sour faces and young people alike looking at such a variety of products. Heck, when I was a kid, getting a sack of weed was a crap shoot. You would get a plastic sandwich bag with something green inside, and you would pay the man the cash. Today, its sativa or Indica. It’s oils, wax, vape pens, and don’t get me started on the names. Pot can’t just be pot anymore. Marketing has invaded the space, so pot now is Orange Krusk Kush, or Spiral to Insanity. Regardless, Reno has it all, and the Mynt Dispensary is close and will satisfy one’s curiosity on what is recreational legalization. Check it out….

Mr. Cates urged me to see the Grow Facility, the actual place the pot is grown. And, talk about impressive… To see such a green forest of pot inside the facility was one most unique experience. What a country? And, Nevada, Northern Nevada. This place is lit, no pun intended.

And, when you are stoned? Besides taking a walk and being outdoors, I enjoy food, duh… I think that is the pothead mantra, let’s get high and eat are faces off. For Clint’s chronic hospitality, and world class tour of the Mynt Dispensary facilities, I offered to buy the pot entrepreneur dinner.

Clint, he suggests a local staple, but a Cougar Stop first.

We walk into The Polo Lounge with glazed eyes and an unquenchable thirst. We pull up to seats at the bar, we were Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday in a pair of cowboy boots galloping into this local dive bar. And, we were looking for a cold drink.

The Polo Lounge located in Midtown Reno is a retro and freaky dive bar with strange faces everywhere. The bar, however, is first and foremost a place to drink in a town of drinkers. Did I mention? Reno can drink. I am feeling a Vodka and Tonic with a lemon night is on the horizon. I am in the land of milk and honey, as this dive bar is also a Cougar den. Hot, horny, older women. And like fine wine, and vodka to my tongue, an older woman is truly as sexy as a woman can possible be. Especially, if the music is loud, the drinks are cheap, and last call is just a rumor. That’s right, you can drink all day and all night in the Biggest Little City. No last call!! What a country bro!!!

Clint stumbles back from a food run, we lost most of the night in a haze of laughter, pick up lines, and bar games. We even missed the food reservation. Clint finds a solution! He brings back some food from Miguel’s Mexican Cantina, a short walk away from The Polo Lounge. I am mouth first into an onion and cheese enchilada and a chili relleno in the most elegant egg crepe as 2 AM reared its ugly head. I order a cold beer to wash it down, The Polo Lounge happily accommodates our request to bring in outside food. Dive bar, check. Great company and laughter, check. Great Mexican food, check!! The Rambling Man thinks highly in regards to the drinkability and Eatability in the Biggest little City…

I sleep until high noon. The partly cloudy fall day brings a day to catch up. I have one more night in Reno, what will the last day of my weekend getaway bring. I hope more laughter, and more food.

What will today bring, a Sunday afternoon and night in Reno. I stick to my vacation theme, let’s walk, drink, eat, and find some laughter.

I start my last night with a Sunset Walk at nearby Virginia Lake. The manmade lake is exactly one mile around, it is a big oval walking / running path near the intersection of Virginia St. and Plumb Lane in Reno. It is a most beautiful walk and sunset. I start my walk, set for 3 laps, at approximately 5:45 PM, sunset set for 6:20 PM, and the sky was set ablaze with all of autumn’s glory. The lake is full of aquatic life, ducks, geese, turtles, fish. With the best feature of Virginia Lake, a forest of sage brush. As dusk approaches, the smell from the sage brush is worth a billion silver dollars. The smell of sun fading from summer, the old west meeting the fresh air of ancient mountain shadow. Air so still, my heart beats in rhythm with the season.

After the walk, I go to the nearby Atlantis Casino…. The Atlantis, less than a quarter mile from Virginia Lake, is where I will partake in the Steam Room with Eucalyptus spray and a world class massage. I feel like I am made of rubber, I feel happy. So, I make my way down to the sportsbook within the bowels of the Atlantis casino. I grab a beer and a nearby handicapping sheet, I am going to bet on the NFL Sunday night game of the Week, it’s the Patriots vs the Chiefs. What a game!! I put $500 on Tom Brady, the old man from Nor Cal, to win the game by more than two points.

At halftime, I stagger over to the Purple Parrot restaurant within the Atlantis to get my all time favorite sandwich, The Monty Cristo. This fried sandwich with a side of strawberry preserves is not something I eat, nor even have the option of ordering. The Monty Cristo with a side of fries, I sit at my table, lost in the casino carpet, and flashy neon lights, my eyes fixed upon the next numbers in the never ending run of Keno games on the overhead TV. In my head, I keep wishing for eight numbers to match, a dream of wealth and fame surely awaits if I can only just get 8 numbers correct.

The night fades into the swallows of tomorrow, I make my way back to downtown and the Eldorado. My flight leaves tomorrow at 10:15 AM….

Hue of the TV radiates upon my tired and sleepy head, a weekend in Reno. I spark my lighter, weed set aglow, I inhale. Stoned immaculate, I am the Rambling Man. Reno ENVY… Reno, Nevada… Walkability Score: 9 out of 10, Drinkability Score: 7 out of 10, Eatability Score: 7 out of 10, Overall Value: 8 of 10, The Ability of the City to Provide a Unique Experience: 10 of 10.

Or course, my weekend getaway is meant to start a conversation regarding travel. Reno has so much more to offer, like most cities, it would take multiple trips to take it all in. I, do however, list below some activities or events to consider when traveling to Reno.

1. Fish for Brown or Rainbow Trout in the Truckee River. Entrance Point at Mayberry Park west of town make this easy to access. Artificial flies, a Salmon Egg, or even a piece of Bacon on the end of the stick will find success at dawn or twilight.

2. Check out a University of Nevada Football game at nearby Mackey Stadium in the Fall, a Nevada Basketball game in the Winter, or a Reno Aces Minor League Baseball game in the Spring or Summer. Hey, we love our sports, and checking out a new venue is always cool.

3. Walking Options: Mayberry Park, Downtown Reno, Virginia Lake, Rancho San Rafael

4. Harrah’s Auto Museum – This is a legit place, full of classic cars that will blow your mind.

5. Rib Cookoff, Balloon Races, Hot August Nights, all tourists traps but a place to start a weekend to Ramble On…..

Finally, and in closing, what is the soul of the city, what is the Soul of Reno? Reno has two faces, and contradiction surrounds. The beauty of Lake Tahoe, the Truckee River, the Sierra Nevada Mountains, alongside the despair of prostitution and gaming. The city is the chain of vice, and the elegance of a perfect small town. It is the old west, yet modern day growth and opportunity abounds. It’s the Wild, Wild West, it’s the Biggest Little City in the World. Regardless, Reno is a fantastic place to Ramble On.

The Rambling Man continues next week, we explore Athens, Georgia. Please follow us on Twitter, @BarkmanPete. We are no longer on Facebook. Why? Because Facebook sucks.

Please consider checking out other Podcast segments available on The Pete Barkman Show. Segments include the following: The Rambling Man, Las Vegas Larry’s Losers ( sports picks, predictions, and handicapping). And, our How To Live a Happy and Healthy Life Series. Plus, much more. The Pete Barkman Show, available on most Podcast Platforms.

#travel #reno #Nevada #pot #gambling #travelreview #Food #Drink #walkability #drinkability #eatability #fish #menshealth #man #men

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