#Chain Link Fence Materials

[vgfence]

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[categorised-art-tutorials-tips]

How to draw Fences (Wooden & Chain Link)

[hsmagazine254]

Affordable and Aesthetic: Cheaper Ways to Fence Your New Plot

Budget-Friendly Options for Fencing Your Property When it comes to securing your new plot, there are several cost-effective ways to fence your property without breaking the bank. In this article, we’ll explore budget-friendly options for fencing your new plot while maintaining aesthetics. Setting Your Fencing Budget 1. Define Your Budget Determine the budget you’re willing to allocate for fencing…

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

honey, are you comin’?

previous part: sweet talkin’ | from the hive: session 1

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which benny finds honey again. this time near a honeycomb, hopin’ for a taste on the road ;) (p.s.: if you were wonderin’, yes — the title of this was so inspired by måneskin)

warnings: not much of anything besides some minor talks of cruelty towards children, peeps being judgmental as hell, & smoking. they’re subtly flirting here basically. it’s cute! that’s really it. x

author’s note: oh my goodness! you have no idea how STUNNED i’ve been by all the love miss.honey!benny have been getting so far. fully was not expecting this. deadass wrote sweet talkin’ for fun. no thoughts, head empty type beat. just wanted to thank you honeys so so much. i can’t thank ya enough i fear! i literally still can’t wrap my head around this, but i love you all sm & can’t wait to share more with you! 🍯🐝🫶

word count: 2.7k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Another unbearable wave of heat managed to remain the very next day. Your students squirming against their metal chairs, antsy as ever for a reprieve. And so were you too. Thankfully, it just so happened to be your turn as fellow recess monitor with one or your fellow co-workers, Miss. Margie. Marge just so happened to be a newly breaded fresh faced teacher just like yourself. You enjoyed her company, more so than the older teachers who were rather cruel to the students. Especially when they did something wrong. Marge wasn’t cruel so to speak but she was a tough cookie, putting her foot down when needed. You two as a duo were rather perfect for the school grounds. You as the comfort go to when a knee was scraped, and Marge as the tough love go to when a particular student needed a stern talking to.

You worked well together, and it showed. Your relief was rather prominent when you stepped out the back door near the playground. An immediate swarm of giggles and chatter from small voices buzzed about, and you couldn’t help but smile as you adjusted your eyes to the sun, protected under your heart shaped sunnies. It didn’t take you long to find Marge who was already planted near the monkey bars with her arms crossed over her chest like a drill sergeant. Considering her father’s status as a war vet, by no means was it shocking to you or anyone else for that matter to see her in such a state.

“Hi Margie,” you greeted her once materialized next to her. “How’s it goin’?”

Margie's clear concentration dropped at the sound of your voice. “Oh no wonder,” she commented without looking at you. Her brows shot up in genuine intrigue.

Your honey coated lips parted in confusion instantly. “Huh?”

“Your three o’clock, Hun.” Margie tilted her head to the right subtly, directing you to her line of sight. A sight that made your heart curl into itself in a warm beat. Right behind those chain-linked fences that kept the kids contained was Uncle Benny. Yet, today his status as Uncle appeared to be rather amiss. Instead of Johnny’s car flanked near the curb, he was leaning against a neat Harley Davidson. The same one you saw him on that mornin’. You figured he was dropping off the girls or somethin’, but your curiosity got the better of you when you saw Mrs. Davis with them instead.

Now in the no parking zone, he stood out like the sorrest of thumbs. Practically a puzzle piece thrown into the wrong box. With no thoughts behind those pretty blue eyes of his besides you.

“That biker of yours stood up like a torpedo as soon as you walked out,” your co-worker added.

You took a moment to adjust your glasses, moving them to the tip of your nose to get a better look. Sure as shit, you weren’t having a heat stroke. It was really him. He was still here. Had he been out here since the mornin’ or left to come back? And if he was here for you like Margie said — why? You were certain he wasn’t much of a fan of you the day prior.

“He’s — He’s not my biker,” you mangled out, words twisting off your tongue as butterflies danced around your tummy.

Margie snorted. “I hate to break it to you, Hun. Lookin’ like he is now.” She paused a moment, shifting her footing as she spotted a youngin’ running roughly across the pavement, almost banging into another student. “Hey — watch where you’re goin’. Don’t push it Mikey!” She reprimanded before fixing herself upright and asking you, “What was all that about yesterday anyways?”

“What y’mean?” You questioned, not quite sure what she was going on about.

“You know — lettin’ the Davis girls go with ‘em. Caused a bit of an upheaval with the parents apparently. Heard all about it in the break room this mornin’. Doesn’t sound like Principal Rubs is real happy about it either.”

Your ears couldn’t believe what you were hearing. What business did the parents have putting their two cents in about somebody else’s family members? As for Principal Rubin, well, she was Principal Rubin after all. There wasn’t much to it there. The damn woman was a stickler with the sprinklers yesterday after all. Never a ball of fun as far as you were concerned.

“Why wouldn't I?” You challenged, becoming rather defensive.

“The guy pulled up like a maniac all greasy and shit. Almost gave everyone a heart attack,” Margie reasoned, her features churning in disgust.

You knew if he was some clean cut military guy in full uniform, she wouldn’t have made a comment at all, which kind-of pissed you off. Sure his clothes were lookin’ as if they hadn’t seen a washing machine in a cycle of days, but hey — what did that have to do with character? There were plenty of people who gave this outward canvas of perfectionism, far off from who they truly were deep down inside. You knew that, and you saw it every single day within the cruel clusters of your modern society. You saw it in the faces of your Ma and Pa when you didn’t fit the supposed mold they were trying to conform you to.

“So? He’s their Uncle, Marge,” you countered, defenses climbing high. “Did you ever think that maybe the man was runnin’ late? Worryin’ about the girls. That’s why he was speedin’.”

Margie sighed. “Not with that Vandals shit on his vest, but whatever you wanna believe, Hun.”

It went quiet between you two then. A clear indication that this conversation wasn’t gonna get the two of you anywhere.

“I should go talk to him,” you announced, snapping the awkward silence in half. There was no denying that you were now suddenly eager to find out what all this was about.

“Yuh should. If you don’t I will, and I doubt that will end well,” she joked, her eyes sparkling in amusement. Oh and she was right about that. Knowing Margie, you knew the idea of her approaching Benny would formulate a recipe for disaster.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the mental image of such a scene. But also — you were utterly glad for this newfound banter popped open from a bottle of tension. “Alright Colonel, I’ll be back,” you quipped, before heading across the playground.

You could feel his eyes burning across your form on your journey to the edge of the property, your tummy flipping again in a bit of nerves and excitement. A part of you felt somewhat disappointed when you found yourself coming to a halt — stuck behind the monstrous fence that separated you from him, while another was glad for some security. You weren’t quite sure what his motive was, but knew it couldn’t be anything bad. He was just sitting here, smoking and minding his own business. Well — minding you.

“The girls don’t get out of school for another few hours, y’know,” you said matter-of-factly, eyeing him through the grates of the fence that reminded you far too much of a honeycomb.

He didn’t say much of anything, just raised a brow as you as he took one last drag of his cigarette. You watched as he put it out against the pavement, amongst a garden of other buds with his boot. Your suspicions were coming into fusion then, the realization that he’d been planted here for as long as your delusions imagined.

What could he possibly want from an innocent elementary school teacher like you?

He reached for that packet of Marlboros in his vest pocket all over again, clearly on a chain smoking spree. “Y’want?” He asked, stopping in his tracks. Those lean fingers of his calloused to the bone holding out a fresh cigarette in your direction. A cigarette that he’d been saving for you just in case.

You looked around for a moment, not quite sure what to do. The coast seemed to be clear though. Margie looked busy with some of the kids. Had a cluster of ‘em around her with her finger wagging about in every which direction. With her eyes no longer trained on Benny and you, and your form more than halfway across the school yard, you figured it wouldn’t hurt. Besides, you were having a day and could really use a cigarette. “Sure.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

Benny re-adjusted his stance, shoulders straight as he sauntered the sidewalk to meet you against the fence. His rough knuckles brushed across your polished ballet slipper fingers as he passed you the cigarette though the honeycomb, a sweetness shooting up your arm in an instance. You left it sticking out for a moment so he could light it up for you, and you could feel his hot breath fanning against your face. The casual interaction felt rather intimate in the moment, and you were more than happy when you got to take a step back on your first drag.

“Thanks,” you voiced your appreciation as he popped a fresh cig against his lips, now lighting up his own. You couldn’t help but notice that he had a sweet little freckle etched into his bottom lip. No wonder he had beautiful lips, you thought.

Surely, they’d be sweet to the kiss.

Jutting your hip out, you tapped your foot against the dry grass in impatience. “You stalkin’ me or somethin’?” You ripped off the bandage then, getting right into the real stuff. It was too hot out to sugarcoat anything any longer. Plus, the more you stood here the more Marg would get curious, and you’d be caught slacking on the job.

His lip curled up to the side naturally, just like it had yesterday when you introduced yourself to him. “Ain’t a stalker,” he confirmed, re-pocketing his lighter.

You found his candid response refreshing’. Naturally a honey rumblin’ laugh tumbled out of you “Good to ‘ear. My co-worker y’see ‘round over there?” Flicking the residue on the end of your cigarette out of the way, you pointed at her simultaneously. “She thinks ya are. Doesn’t appreciate the loitering.”

He shook his head then, long pretty eyelashes fanning his lower lids as he puckered his lips against the cig. His eyes squinted across the campus for only a second until his gaze landed right back on you. You in another denim overall number with a whole new canvas of embroidered fun. This time, knowing that you were gonna be out in the yard come afternoon, you opted on a classic jean overall. There was always the possibility of having to kneel on the grassy ground or near the sand pit, having to scoop up a youngin’ that refused to leave the playground. You learned your lesson rather quickly within your first few months of teaching. Tripping over yourself in such a situation left a tear in your favorite skirt. A skirt you still frowned about every time you found a certain piece in your closet that would make the perfect pair.

Funnily enough, if Benny knew of such a thing he would’ve made sure the same exact piece of clothing was at your doorstep and back in your closet before the thought crossed your sweet little mind.

But you didn’t know that. Not yet, that is.

And Benny — well Benny wasn’t payin’ as much attention as he would’ve liked to what you were sayin’, and he wasn’t quite interested in Margie anyways. His interests lied with you, and in his defense, the sight of you in your heart shaped sunnies wasn't helping the cause one bit. It was hard to take you seriously when you looked that stinkin’ cute. Made him wanna put you in his jacket pocket for safe keeping. And hell was he itching to just drive his bike right through the fuckin’ fence to break the barrier between you two. He was still beatin’ himself up for not taking your hand when you offered it to him yesterday. Hence why he was here, stakin’ you out. Hoping to fix his mistake.

Because the last thing he ever wanted to do was fuck this up with you.

Instead of enertainin’ your comment or makin’ a move to leave upon your far from subtle hints, far from linear to your own wishes, he changed the topic completely. “What time y’get outta ‘ere?”

You took a long drag of your cigarette, to calm your anxieties. The smoke circled ‘round your face for a moment before it traveled across the fence, reachin’ for Benny. Ironically, it was as if the smoke mirrored your desires of clinging onto the man in front of you. “‘round the same time as the girls, a little after,” you replied, curiosity adding, “what’s it to ya?”

“Wanna go for a ride?” He inquired casually. As if he was just stoppin’ by and hadn’t been sitting here for a good three quarters of the school day waitin’ for you.

The simple question spilling from those pretty lips of his made you melt in an instant. If it wasn’t for the obvious heat as a buffer to such a state, your mind would’ve found him as the culprit. “Where?”

“‘round.” He shrugged, not offering much of a plan. His casual demeanor remained concrete to his form.

An innocent smirk stretched across your face, blooming the apples of your cheeks and creasing the plane of your forehead. Now you were the one to flex amusement against a cylinder wedged between honey glossed lips. Now Benny was the one to be somewhat grateful for the honeycomb — if you will. Cause if the fence wasn’t there, he knew he wouldn’t be able to contain himself. He’d have your honey gloss all over his lips, tasting your sweetness without a second thought. Without caring about Margie or the students on the playground. Without caring about anyone really, but you.

Always you.

Perhaps anyone else would be rather suspicious of a plan with really no plan at all. Sure Margie would need a bulleted itinerary on fresh stationary, color coated and attached to a clipboard respectfully. But you — no, you appreciated his carefree mentality. It was peaceful in comparison to the stressing atmosphere that surround you on a daily basis, dotting on the kiddos in your classes, worryin’ constantly about ‘em.

Two could play this game, you thought.

Just at the end of your cigarette, your pretty fingers reached between a ring in the honeycomb, motioning it back to him. “Would ya put this out f’me?” You asked sweetly, mascara coated lashes batting about behind those obvious heart eyes of yours. “Don’t want the kids to find it in the grass.”

“Mhm,” Benny hummed, finding your concern for this children too fuckin’ cute. How could he ever say no to a sweet thang like you? He just couldn’t.

Your fingers grazed his as he took it from you, a touch that you found yourself thanking your faith for allowing you to bask in again.

This time he not only put out his cigarette, but yours too in the garden of buds that would blossom into a metaphor. A metaphor that had you joining his crew. Becoming a part of the club, joining his family, and fulfilling your wifely duties of planting a seed or two more along the way. Growin’ Benny some baby honeys of your very own.

Your lack of a reply to his offer didn’t sway him by any means, only fueled his fire tenfold. Turning on his heel then, you couldn’t help but frown, thinkin’ your hesitance turned him impatient and over the prospect completely. Especially when you watched him mount his bike and rev the engine, ready to ride away without another word. But Benny — no he still had somethin’ to say, and he was gonna say it alright. “I’ll see ya out front after school, Honey.” He decided, “I’ll be waitin’.”

The sound of your nickname rolling off his tongue — as smooth as honey sliding down your throat in a soothing tea — was all you needed to make your decision.

With your fun little backpack — straps resting against your shoulders — absolutely decked out in pins and keychains alike, you’d spot him at dismissal, and he’d be waitin’. Waitin’ for you to come. Wonderin’ if you were comin’.

Askin’ himself ‘Honey, are you comin’?’

Of course you would. You always would with Benny, no matter what.

And when you mounted his bike, your body molding into his like you were made for him, and your hands wrapping around his waist, Benny’s mistake proved to be no more. Suddenly, everything felt right in the world.

Right because you were one step closer to being his honey.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

hi-ya, i hope you enjoyed part 2! there’s so much more to come. expect a from the hive 🎙️🐝 installment real soon :)

also to note, my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝

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[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny covered his nose with his hand. Where ever he landed smelled absolutely foul, like rotten fruit and burning tires mixed with chem lab.

"Remind me to bring a face mask the next time I explore the Infinite Realms." He muttered, before kicking a soda can down the alley he was in and being repulsed by the squelch sound it made when it came into contact with a very questionable looking puddle, "Better yet, a gas mask." He glanced at the puddle again, "Or I could go full Hazmat." Clockwork had told him this world was full of superheros and villians and to steer clear of it, but once he learned there were aliens in this world he couldn't help himself. Danny had always been weak to his curiosity, but he liked to believe he was cautious, and chose to stay in his Phantom for for added protection.

Turning on his heel he exited onto a deserted street lined on one side by a chain-link fence. The sky above him was filled with clouds so ominous and dark that Danny honestly couldn't tell you if it was night or day, all he knew was that it was going to rain soon and hopefully these awful smells would be drowned out by the downpour.

Danny got his wish only minutes later. Thankfully Phantom was unbothered by the cold and could just bask in the rain as it fell apon him. A lesser known fact about ghosts is that thier clothes are made from thier ectoplasm and are part of thier bodies, much like a second layer of skin, so one would be able to feel things on thier clothes as easily as they would with thier bare skin. The level of sensitivity varies with the type of clothing however. All this to say Danny loved the feeling of the rivulets of rainwater traveling down his ghostly hazmat suit.

He was so preoccupied with enjoying the sensation that he didn't notice anything was wrong until he was jolted forward from the weight of someone landing on his back. The person was quick and precise, taking no time at all to have his wrists pinned behind his back and- weirdly enough- thier teeth digging into the material around his neck.

His parents designed the Hazmat suit Danny was wearing not only to deal with dangerous chemicals, but to fight supernatural foes. The area around the neck was reinforced with the intention of protecting against fatal gunshots and decapitations so naturally someone's jaw wasn't going to be enough to break through to his neck.

Danny let out a laugh as the person kept chewing on his neck like a confused puppy. Oh, Danny thought, they've gone feral. It was odd for someone to go feral but it could occur when a person has gone through something traumatic recently or through extreme stress. It made sense since the person ridding piggy back on him was dressed like a superhero. Danny wondered if that was why the person didn't have a scent. Danny learns facepalmed when he remembered that scentblockers existed and not everyone's scent dramatically changed whenever they went out as a hero. The scent change was probably one of the few things that have kept him alive up to this point to be honest.

"So, I guess you're not going to tell me why you're chewing on my neck like the worlds most pathetic vampire, are you?" No one deserves that title more than the fruitloop to be honest. He made a mental note to use that one against Vlad the next time he saw him.

Chewy whined at this, seeming to slump a bit from the apparent failure to bite him. What was that about? Was this actually a vampire? How would a vampire even react to Dannys ecto-blood combo meal anyway? Would it be like food poisoning? Or would it taste amazing from one undead to another. "I'm not exactly human, are you sure you wanna bite me? I might not taste so good." Danny warned, but the moment he mentioned letting the person bite him they were eager again.

Danny chuckled and unzipped the material only a bit before it was loose enough to move out of the way. The vampires bite came with a sharp pain like he expected but there was no suction. No drinking of blood. Just some weirdo biting Danny on the neck. Huh.

Danny hoped he didn't get rabies from this.

He must have accidentally said that out loud as there was a small laugh from the rooftops above them. There stood another person in a superhero outfit with some really tall dude dressed as a giant bat, and that was when Danny decided to bail. It was one thing to let a maybe vampire bite you in a random street in the middle of the night but more of them? And ones a big scary furry? Hard pass.

Phantom did as Phantoms do and went invisible and intangible, escaping from Biteys jaws and startling the heros. He ignored the distressed whine Munchy let out after loosing their spookyest chew toy and quickly rubbed the scent gland near dannys jaw on the top of thier head as an act of comfort before bolting.

----

Danny poked at the bite mark on his neck. Screw rabies, he better not get turned into a werewolf. He didn't need that on top of his ghostly crap. Sam seemed fascinated by the mark, after all, it wasn't every day that Danny got a scar, especially one so obvious. Most injuries heal quickly and leave no trace of him ever being injured in the first place which helped a lot in keeping his secret identity.

Luckily Danny hadn't needed to lie to mom and dad. He truthfully told them about some wierdo jumping off of a nearby rooftop and plunging thier teeth into his neck and that two other people had tried to corner him during this. He assured his mom that he had gotten away quickly but was a little shaken by it and his dad praised him for being brave and managing to escape.

That was nice. But he still had to figure out what was up with this bite...and why he felt so compelled to go back to that city.

Back to that hero.

-----

Aka an A/B/O au where in Danny's universe all the Alphas are extinct and the betas followed soon after and the DC universe all the Omegas went extinct and betas followed after . Not like a "they finally went extinct in the 1700s after centuries of thier numbers dwindling" thing and became a myth/fairytale (tho I like that too) but a "this might be the missing link between cave men and modern humans" kinda thing.

Its up to you which bat bit Danny and exactly what that means. I love abo aus without smut cause there's so much potential for chaos and I am very much ace.

[kaizokuniichan]

Attention - Part 1: Mossy Musings

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro/Afab Reader (referred to as she/her)/Trafalgar Law

Summary: There’s something going on with you and Law. But there’s also something going on with you and Zoro.

• This chapter is very tame and just kind of sets up the plot. Supposed to take place after Dressrosa so Law is onboard the Sunny. Everyone is pining.

CW: none for this chapter

Word Count: 2k

Next Chapters: Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

*This specific chapter doesn’t have any inappropriate material but the rest of the story will so MDNI

(Divider by @cafekitsune Banner by @/eelnoise)

Zoro knew you had a thing for Law. For someone as perceptive as him, he’d especially mastered reading you. Normally you were very precious with which parts of yourself you revealed, but when you liked something, that preciousness began to slip away.

He wasn’t jealous of Law, far from it actually. He respected the hell out of him, respected his strength and how formidable of a fighter he was, and respected how much he trusted Luffy as an ally despite how tentative that allyship was. But he was curious as to what exactly attracted you to him. He knew objectively he was a good-looking guy, he was older, and he had an underlying angst that seemed to appeal to you. But he was just as guarded as you were, and if your walls were a chain link fence, needing to be rattled to shake off little nuggets of your innermost self, his walls were a 20 foot tall, thick slab of concrete.

Maybe it was the mystery of wanting to figure him out and getting him to open up, something that seemed impossible given the incompatibility of his personality with the raucousness of your crew. But you did have a disarming air, and a penchant for making people comfortable enough to reveal their vulnerabilities. So maybe throughout the time Law spent on the ship you’d began chipping away at that concrete slab.

Law was even harder to read, though not impossible. Zoro saw the way his eyes lingered, intrigue pooling in his irises. How he seemed to anticipate your needs, wordlessly filling your plate with more vegetables and rice during meals; always at the right place and the right time to catch you whenever your clumsiness tripped your feet. How his scowl softened when you came to him with a question about an ailment you’d been plagued with since Chopper wasn’t available. It was subtle, but the tension in his shoulders, and the grit in his teeth (irritated by Strawhat antics) would dissipate as you followed him to extract yourselves from the chaos any time your social batteries depleted. Just like Robin, you were someone he seemed to have found comfort in, but it was different with you. He was different with you.

Zoro observed the two of you, tucked away in your favorite corner of the deck overlooking the glittering reflection of the setting sun. Law sat next to you at an appropriate distance, back against the railing and arms rested on bent knees. He didn’t face you but his body was positioned in a way that suggested he was actively engaged with your presence. A subtle movement of his mouth made you giggle, obviously in relation to something he’d said. Law didn’t say things that were intended to be funny, but sometimes his dry platitudes were so dramatic one could find them quite amusing. Your laughter pulled his attention back to you, eyes shifting to your face and lips curling into a barely perceptible smile. It took him several moments to drag his gaze away from yours to look down at his hands.

You must’ve complimented his tattoos, something you’d not so subtly alluded to liking on more than one occasion, though not to Law directly. To Zoro’s mild surprise Law held his hand out for you to trace your fingers over the ink. He watched as you gushed, biting your lip in concentration as you admired the intricate shapes and patterns. Law’s eyes never left your face, heated pride radiating from his skin. A hint of pink dusted his cheeks as you placed his palm on top of yours, curling and threading your fingers to you compare the sizes of your hands. Zoro snickered; this was your classic move. He’d seen you do it countless times in a local bar with some nameless patron; hell, you’d even done it to him. It always turned the person into putty, and the effect on Law was no different.

Zoro’s snort caught your attention as both your heads snapped over to him. Law discreetly snatched his hand from yours, subtly shifting further away. Zoro took pity on the man, obviously not realizing he’d had an audience, and raised his jug of sake in acknowledgment. While the two of you waffled about, trying to put some space between you, a workout in the crow’s nest suddenly felt very appealing as Zoro took his katanas and made his way back inside. As he approached the door leading to the kitchen he caught sight of Robin sitting at her little table, sipping on a cup of tea. She greeted him with a serene smile and a friendly wave which Zoro returned with another lift of his jug. Just as he was about to pass she turned to him, tinkling voice lilting over the lip of her teacup.

“Does that bother you?” She asked, eyes drifting over to you and Law still pretending to not have been canoodling on the other side of the deck.

Zoro knew it was pointless playing dumb about what she was implying. She was always in tune with everything going on aboard the ship.

“No, not really,” he huffed, already knowing where this was going.

“Just curious?”

Zoro looked back over his shoulder at you, still dragging your fingers along Law’s arm.

“Doesn’t matter,” he sighed, continuing on his journey and ignoring the amused glint in her eye.

“She seems to have a type, handsome and powerful swordsmen.”

Zoro stopped in his tracks as he shook his head, laughing to himself.

“Seems like her attention span is fleeting since there’s a new boy toy around.”

“Are you saying you’re also her boy toy?” Robin prodded, eyebrows raised in mock surprise and still infuriatingly calm and collected as she flustered him.

“I’m not saying I’m anything,” he muttered, grinding his teeth as his ears burned. Robin had a knack for zeroing in on the most humiliating parts of himself. It was why he avoided her as much as he could.

He started to stomp away, but she reeled him back with one final jab.

“If it does bother you, you should act fast. Something tells me he’s feeling more bold the closer we get to Zou. He might want to snatch her up before you get to her first.”

A niggling sense of dread ate at the center of his chest as he pictured you leaving the crew to join the Heart Pirates. To be with him. He knew there was no way that would happen, but the thought still shook him, ice filling his veins. He wasn’t going to let Robin’s predictably dark musings rattle him; he was fine. It’s not like he had anything going on with you anyway, save for some fleeting glances here and there, a lingering touch in passing. You two hadn’t even kissed. Neither of you were the type to commit to anything on a romantic scale, and Zoro wasn’t the type to delude himself into believing that any of it actually meant something. There was too much on the line with him working to achieve his goals, and your relationship as crew mates. A little mutual attraction was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

After a few hours of blowing steam in the gym, Zoro collapsed onto the bench, muscles groaning with relief. He’d brought the jug of sake with him upstairs, and took a healthy swig, gulping down as if it were water.

As trails of escaped sake ran down the sides of his face, your head suddenly appeared above the ladder, eyes meeting his and face blooming into a smile. As more of your body lifted up into the space he smirked. You’d donned an old sweatshirt of his, worn and fraying hem falling halfway to your knees. His mouth betrayed him as he grinned, feeling slightly gleeful that you’d chosen a piece of him to adorn yourself with.

You walked over to where he sat, the sound of your slides slapping your heels echoing against the walls. As you stood in front of him, you thrust your hand out and made grabby motions at his jug.

“Use your words,” he tsked, clutching the sake to his chest.

“Gimme some of that,” you pouted, still offering your hand to him.

He grasped your hand, pulling you down to collapse next to him, dragging you closer.

“You smell horrible,” you huffed, wrinkling your nose.

“You knew that when you came here.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” you grumbled, finally snatching the sake from him.

“But you knew it was a 50/50 chance.”

“Hm. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He snickered as he watched you take a sip, gagging at the taste. He’d busted your balls enough times about how you couldn’t actually handle it, so he’d let it slide just this once.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No, I’ve hardly been able to at all this week.”

“Too busy thinking about Tall Broody Sideburns?” He couldn’t help himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumbled, lip poking out in another pout. Normally you wore an armor of stoicism when you felt exposed but now you weren’t even trying.

“You sure weren’t shy when you were making googly eyes at him earlier.”

“Don’t be jealous,” you rebounded, mushing his face with your hand. He caught your wrist in a loose hold, looking into your eyes.

“You know it’s not a good idea to fraternize with the enemy.”

Your shriek of laughter caught him off guard, but he buzzed with satisfaction for making you smile.

“You’re so annoying you know that?”

He let go of your wrist, stretching his arm along the back of the bench. You shifted closer, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I thought you said I smelled.”

“You do but I’m getting used to it. Color me shocked.”

His hand came down to grasp your shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“You know it’s fine with me right? It’s no pressure you know.”

You turned to look at him, an unreadable expression on your face.

“No pressure about what? There’s nothing going on.”

Zoro knew he’d said something wrong, your body pulling away from his grasp. You stood up preparing to leave when reached for your hand.

“You know how complicated this is though, right? He’s technically our enemy when all of this shit is over with.”

Still standing, you turned back to throw him a conflicted look.

“Yeah I know I just…I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You wanna be greedy and have us both?”

You pulled your hand from his, shaking your head.

“I just want to feel wanted, you know? I can’t help that I like…who I like,” you sighed, briefly catching his eye. “I just. I know none of this, any of this, can become anything. It’s all so fucked.”

Zoro grunted as he straightened up in his seat, wrapping an arm around your waist to plop you back down at his side.

“If you’re worried that this will put a damper on…whatever’s going on, don’t worry about it. It’s up to you to determine what you want. I’m obviously not going anywhere.

“Obviously?”

“You know that.”

His words seemed to melt the tension as you settled back into his side.

“Why are you being so accommodating?”

He nuzzled the side of your face and pulled you closer against him.

“Because. We live together stupid.”

You scoffed, playfully flicking his forehead.

“And because I respect you. And at the end of the day I do care about you.”

You turned in your seat to look at him, curiosity painting your face.

“You know, you’re a lot cuter than you give yourself credit for.”

He rolled his eye but couldn’t wipe the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Being cute isn’t something I strive to be.”

“So you just can’t help it. That makes it cuter.”

Refusing to argue any further, he squeezed your sides, eliciting another one of those banshee shrieks he always teased you about.

You were both unaware of the man at the bottom of the ladder, listening intently and brimming with a new resolve.

[picknmixsims]

Sims 2 Tools - SceneGraph Plus

SceneGraph Plus

SceneGraph Plus is an application to display and manipulate scene graph (mesh and material) resources.

While it is similar to SimPe's scenegrapher, it has major differences:

it is a standalone application;

it can open and write multiple .package files simultaneously;

it displays all connections between resources, and not just those in the chain starting at the "top-most" resources;

it understands recolours (MMAT/GZPS/XMOL/XTOL), wall/floor coverings (XOBJ), fence (XFNC) and roof (XROF) scenegraph chains;

it understands links from STR# resources (0x0085 Model Names to CRES and 0x0088 Material Names to TXMT);

it supports renaming resources - maintaining the integrity of the chain (both names and TGIR values);

it supports relinking resources - enabling broken chains to be repaired.

A scenegraph chain with multiple issues

The same scenegraph chain after fixing directly within the app

A complex scenegraph chain across multiple files (one for the mesh, one for the recolours and one for the materials.)

TXMT, TXTR and LIFO resources can be viewed.

Lots more details, and an introductory video, on the web page.

[nopxxx]

currently making an in depth fake metal for a dcu fic of all things

maybe I should just bullshit my way through it rather than make an entirely useless and highly dangerous chemically produced extremely flexible Superman restraining metal, just so Batman can shred it into tiny shavings in oil (avocado oil specifically), to painstakingly bend those shavings together with silk(think chain link fence but microscopic) into a lightweight, high melting point fabric-like material that would be capable of withstanding Superman’s heat vision for MAYBE a minute or two, while also blocking his x-ray vision, that does not include kryptonite so that it’s to protect against him in case of an emergency, not attack.

It would actually he incredibly useful if made correctly, but now that I think about it more, I would want to be able to reinforce the metal once it was in that tightly weaved form, which might be possible through a series of heat treatments if only it wouldn’t damage the silk.. maybe if multiple heatings were done a very low temperature? It might work, since the metal would be actually tiny at that point. That’s a stretch though, especially with the combined metals having very different melting points(even then, the lowest one starts crazy high, way higher than silk could withstand).

The other methods I could think of would be way too hazardous to complete, mainly because the material is made with a very modified alkaline metal, which wouldn’t react well and could undo the whole process(bad)(would result in explosions).

But again, to a normal human, being around that stuff for prolonged periods of time is dangerous, so while it would be nice to incorporate into character’s suits, it would backfire in the long run. Maybe making a synthetic version of it with less hazardous materials is something to consider, but I chose those specific materials with the mind to withstand attacks from Superman, so it defeats the original point.

But, superman is a high bar. A synthetic material like this would be hard to perfect but would work great against a normal opponent

Thinking even deeper, it would only be harmful to humans, so it could be used for superman. Actually I do like that idea, since it contains lead it could work as a form of protection from small amounts of kryptonite. But he does work closely with humans anyways. Hhhh.

AND I CANT EVEN PUT ANY OF THIS NERDY SHIT IN THE FIC NO ONES GONNA READ IT ASHCJFJFKMFMDKSS

so thats my evening

[musekicker]

Ford between dimensions finds himself in the pound.

Ford did not have the exact time, but he knew he had been trapped in this place he was currently for two days. He was only guessing though considering meal times and changes in staff had happened only twice. But he could be wrong.

There was no other way for him to really tell the time in this place. No clock was in sight and room where the line of cages were was always lit. No windows to even look outside.

He did not have a idea of time, but he was pretty sure that he knew what kind of place he was in. And that would be in a pound. A place meant for lost or wandering pets. Though in this sense the pets were all of the sentient creature types. And that Ford knew because he had heard the other captives speak to some of the workers more then once. There was sentience in their words and their stares.

The cages were mostly reminded Ford of chain link fencing one may see for a dog kennel. Except the chain link was made bright blue light that was a lot more solid then it looked. Not that he could even test the material of the kennel fencing. Not with his arms secured behind him with metal cuffs and chain anchored to the wall.

Some of the beings that Ford saw looked just as mad as Ford was about the situation. Pulling at the chains. Others looked more forlorn and subdued. Having long ago given in.

Ford was not in the given up category. He was still pulling at his chains and trying to think up a plan. Anything to get out of this place. He would be shouting more if not for the muzzle that had been placed onto him soon after arriving to this place.

Apparently bite one guard and you got muzzled. Ford had done just that before he had been dragged into his kennel. The muzzle had followed soon after that. For some reason this cage of wires and blue energy was as effective as a gag. Maybe there was a sound dampening system in the build of the thing?

He was still trying to think of a plan to escape this place when a voice broke his out of his thoughts.

"It'll be nice to get your pet back to you. It's a good thing you marked him or we never would had known to contact you." a worker said.

"That's one of the reasons why I marked him!"

Ford froze, knowing that voice all too well. He wished he could tell himself he was wrong. But he knew he wasn't. So it wasn't a complete shock when Bill Cipher floated into view at the kennel door.

There was a look in Ciphers eye that was very much Bill's version of smirking.

"Yup, that's my human. I'd know those six fingers anywhere." Bill said.

The kennel door was turned off to allow Bill to enter the kennel.

"I'll get the paperwork to sign him out." the worker said.

The moment that the worker left, Bill looked Ford in the eye.

"Well, well, well. Someones gotten themself into a pretty bad situation here. In this dimension creatures like you are considered pets you know? If I didn't pick you up, who knows what would had happened to you."

There was a mock pity to Bill's voice. A tone that only enraged Ford more. He shouted into the muzzle despite the fact that he could not be heard. Bill considered the muzzle, and ran a finger down one of the straps holding the muzzle onto Ford's face.

"The muzzle works so well for you." Bill said.

Ford snarled even though it could not be heard. Bill was amused by the clear rage in Ford's eyes. It made the triangle want to do so many dark things to break that defiance. The ideas were endless.

"Can't wait to get you home." Bill told Ford in a tone that brought a chill to Ford's blood.

The worker came back and approached Bill, a clip board with a variety of papers that Bill was meant to sign. A quick look up at Bill and Ford and the worker paused.

"Oh one thing, you have to leash your pet." the worker said. "More then one pet has tried to cause problems when their owners picked them up."

At the mention of the the leash, the glee in Bill's eye at those words was infuriating to Ford.

"Of course. Can't have my pet causing problems. And I know he would." Bill said.

A snap of his fingers and a bright blue, chain leash appeared in Bill's hand, the other end of it secured to similar in color and materials collar. It would not be something that could be broken with enough pulling or with anything sharp.

The worker, no longer worried that Ford would have the chance to possibly attack continued to speak in a calm tone. The scene before her not out of the ordinary or wrong at all to her.

"I wasn't on staff when he was brought in. But I heard he bit one of the officers that picked him up." the worker said.

Bill looked almost aghast. Even though Ford knew that expression was more for show then actually being shocked.

"Sixer! I didn't know you had it in you." Bill said.

The look that Ford was giving Bill now suggested that Ford wanted to tear Bill apart. Whether with hands or teeth. It wouldn't matter as long as Ford would be able to do it. The leash and muzzle would not allow for that.

The cuffs hold his wrists did not have any give either. Using his hands right now was out of the question. The only thing that was free right now were his legs. He did not have high expectations for that giving his a literal leg up on getting away. But it was better then nothing.

So when Bill pulled at the leash, ford pulled back. If he could had dug his heels down into the tile floor he would have. Anything to prevent himself from being pulled along towards what he knew would be a place where he was even less likely to escape from.

Bill looked back at Ford, eye narrowing slightly.

"You're just embarrassing both of us right now." Bill said.

Ford glared. And pulled back again. Bill turned a shade of red. Not quite completely angry, but irritated.

"Listen to me. If you keep this up I will summon up a carrier and put you in there. Is that what you want Sixer?"

From Bill's tone it was clear that Bill was done playing around now. And being put into a carrier did not sound like it be pleasant. Not to mention possibly harder to escape from. So Ford grumbled into his muzzle and stopped pulling. For now anyways.

Bill, pleased turned back to a yellow color.

"Better. Now come on Fordsy. Bringing you home."

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 66

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: The Alexandrians recover from the Wolves' attack. Daryl, Sasha and Abraham finish leading the walkers away, and start on their way back home before facing an unexpected obstacle. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; guilt; mourning; anxiety; ambush; motorcycle crash; injury related to such; burned and melted bodies; character getting knocked unconscious

Chapter 66 - Wolves

Michonne and a few others arrived within the next couple hours. She told them what had happened, the air horn separating most of the walkers from their plan. The incoming hordes. Aaron and Tobin volunteered to collect the Alexandrian bodies and their… severed parts. Glenn and Nicholas were also supposed to arrive, but hadn’t yet. Maggie was worrying herself sick as Michonne explained.

“The town was overrun. He split off with Nicholas. He had this idea that… that if he lit a fire, it would stop the walkers from coming here. I tried to go instead. I wanted to. That fire never got lit. We had to keep going. I’m sorry.” Michonne recounted, looking to Maggie. Rosita and Iris stood on either side, attempting some method of comfort, but it wasn’t helpful. “He said if he got stuck, he would find a way to send us a signal.”

“A signal?” Maggie asked.

“Open the gate!” A voice yelled in the distance. Iris was easily distracted, stepping toward the gate. She looked up to Deanna, who stood at the guard post looking over the wall. “Open the gate! Open the gate now!”

“Holy shit. Rick.” Iris realized, bolting to the gate. She ripped the chain link open, Michonne appearing at her side to haul the gate to the side. As soon as they could see him, Iris paled. He was running, but the horde followed behind him. Rick bodychecked one of the walkers aside, a few others appearing at the gate to help clear them. There were too many to count, too many to fight. 

Rick practically dove through the gap, Tobin and Michonne hauling the gate closed behind him. Deanna looked white as a ghost. They watched as the walkers slammed against the bars, Michonne closing the chain link tight. Immediately, Tobin began gathering others to reinforce the walls, gathering whatever materials they had inside to set up supports. Iris was reminded of the logs they had to hold up the fence in the prison… but this was no chain link prison fence. 

Everyone that remained in Alexandria was gathered near the walls as they set up the supports. Iris turned as Rick appeared, coming back from greeting Carl and Judith.

“Thank you.” He said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder. She smiled, nodding. They were her family, too. She explained to him what had happened with the truck, the damaged or dented part of the wall at risk, especially with the hordes coming now. “You holding up?” He asked, tilting his head. Iris inhaled deeply and nodded.

“He promised.” She said simply, offering a pathetic shrug. He pursed his lips, nodding. 

“He will.” Rick assured. Iris could feel a speech coming on. “You can hear it!” Rick called, addressing the whole group. “Some of you saw it. They got back here, half of them. Still enough to surround us twenty deep. Look, I know you’re scared. You haven’t seen anything like this. You haven’t been through anything like this. But we’re safe, for now. The panel the truck hit seems intact. We reinforced it just in case. Either way, the wall’s gonna hold together. Can you? The others, they’re gonna be back.” He looked to Iris pointedly.

“They’re gonna be back.” Rosita echoed, nodding more to herself than anyone else. Rick nodded back. 

“Daryl, Abraham, Sasha, they have vehicles. They’re gonna lead ‘em away, just like the others. And Glenn and Nicholas are gonna walk back through the front gate after. They know what they’re doing, and we know what we need to do. We keep noise to a minimum. We pull our blinds at night. Even better, keep the lights out. Try to make this place as quiet as a graveyard, and we move on.”

“This place is a graveyard.” Francine stated, her voice breaking. 

“The quarry broke open and those walkers were heading this way. All of them. The plan that Rick put into place stopped that from happening. He got half of them away.” Aaron called, addressing the group. “I was out there recruiting with Daryl. I wanted to try to get into a cannery and scavenge, and Daryl wanted to keep looking for people. We did what I wanted… and we wound up in a trap set by those people and I lost my pack. They must’ve followed our tracks. Those people who attacked us, they found their way back here because of me.” Deanna shook her head, walking away from the group.

“There’ll be more to talk about.” Rick assured quietly.

“Deanna?” Tobin called. The group turned to watch as she walked away. She didn’t stop. “Deanna!”

-

“It’s not your fault.” Iris said quietly, sitting next to Aaron on his front step. Eric had ducked inside, going to get him some water. “Causality is not the same as intent.”

“The result is the same.” Aaron murmured, cradling his head in his hands. “I can’t believe… I should have listened to him.”

“He is right more often than not.” Iris admitted, nodding. “Don’t tell him I said that. You cannot blame yourself. You blame the wolves, not the sheep.”

“Stupid fucking sheep.” Aaron scoffed, shaking his head. Iris sighed, rubbing his back gently. She opened her mouth to say more, but he stood abruptly, walking off. 

-

Iris stood on lookout, silently watching the hordes slam against the wall, milling around outside with nothing better to do. She sighed, turning at the sound of someone else climbing the ladder. Rick nodded in acknowledgement, holding up the walkie. 

“Daryl, Sasha, Abraham, you copy?” He asked. There was no answer. 

“Rick? Can I come up?” Called a voice. Iris peered over the edge to see Ron. Rick looked to Iris in question and she shrugged.

“Yeah.” Rick replied. Rick climbed up the ladder too, getting himself a good look. “You haven’t seen it.” A statement, not a question.

“No.” Ron replied, astonished.

“Not exactly a nice view.” Iris stated. Ron shrugged.

“Enid, she uh, she used to sneak over the walls, spend time out there. I don’t know why, she just wanted to. But um…” He trailed off. “I think she went out there after the attack.”

“What, she’s still out there?” Rick asked, astonished at the fact that he hadn't said something sooner.

“She disappeared during, left Carl a note.” Iris pointed out. “I assumed she wanted to leave.”

“She wouldn’t have just left without saying goodbye.” Ron denied, huffing. Iris raised an eyebrow. Yes, she would have. “You know, she knows how to take care of herself.” Rick gave him an incredulous look, slowly turning back to stare out at the walkers. “We can’t go out there. Carl wanted to try. I stopped him and told him I’d tell you if he did. And then, um… I don’t know, I just thought I should tell you—”

“Fucking hell.” Iris murmured, standing up and hooking her rifle over her shoulder.

“Do you know where he is now?” Rick asked. 

“Yeah, he’s back at the house. I saw him on the porch with Judith. I can keep guard now if you want…” Ron offered.

“They’re keeping guard now.”  Iris pointed down to the walkers. “I was looking out for the others.  A sign from Glenn, anything.”

“Alright.” Ron agreed. Iris raised an eyebrow but nodded, both her and Rick headed to the ladder. “So I was thinking about what you said by the quarry,” Rick grimaced, turning back to him. Iris snickered, taking her opportunity to climb down. “And I mean, you’re right. I need to know how to protect myself and my mom and my brother. This place. So… can you teach me how to shoot?” Rick looked over the edge to Iris and she nodded, making her way to Carl and Judith at the house while Rick taught Ron how to use his gun. 

-

Iris braced her hands on either side of the kitchen counter, tears quietly trickling down her cheeks until they fell to the counter. There had always been times where he was gone, out on a run and got stuck, something or other. From the farm to the prison, to Alexandria. But somehow, Iris realized, it got harder and harder for her every time he left. Especially in circumstances like these, where all she could do was wait, trapped. 

Maybe he was trying to get back but couldn’t because of the walkers outside. What if he was alone? He could always handle himself, but what if something happened to Abraham and Sasha and Daryl… didn’t make it? Couldn’t? What if something happened to him and he was alone?

Iris shuddered through a silent sob as she thought about it, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. She had a hard time sleeping when he wasn’t there. Now… it was almost impossible. A soft cooing came from the kitchen door and she turned to see Carl standing in the threshold, Judith in his arms reaching out toward her with grabby hands. 

She smiled softly through the tears as Carl brought Judith closer, until she could take her into her arms. Judith buried her face in her hair and Carl smiled.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly. “I… it’s hard.” Iris nodded, not saying more as she held out her hand. He took it, getting pulled into a hug. Iris cradled the two of them, ruffling Carl’s hair with her free hand. “Judy and me are always here to talk, or… to not talk.”

“I know, cowboy.” Iris whispered.

-

“Alright.” Sasha said, the cloudy morning having greeted them a few hours ago, and she switched with Abraham.

“That’s twenty?” Daryl asked, more than ready, if not excited to get off the bike. It was comfortable, but not nearly as comfortable as not riding a motorcycle for twenty-four hours or more.

“It will be. Six-forty-two is a mile ahead.” Sasha replied. “We gotta put distance between us and them before the turn off.” 

“So floor it.” Abraham said, pulling up beside Daryl and he turned to nod, the two vehicles speeding up to get some good distance from the walkers. 

“Try to keep up.” Daryl replied.

“Daryl, have you looked at this car? Believe me, we want to get back there, too.” Sasha chuckled. 

They reached the turn in no time, pulling off right at the mile marker to turn back around. The road led them into a small collection of industrial buildings, right alongside a chain link fence. They slowed, not wanting to burn too much gas, but just as Daryl released the clutch a bit, gunshots sounded through the air. 

He ducked, beginning to weave on the bike as a few of the shots shattered the rear windshield of the car. They sped up again, and Daryl spotted shooters lining either side of the road, ambushing them. A car pulled out from a side road, more shooters following after them. Daryl turned too quickly, the bike skidding and sliding to the ground near a few other parked cars. 

He grunted in pain, the leg of his jeans and the sleeve of his leather jacket torn to reveal the gnarly road rash across his arm, calf and thigh. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, and he’d still be able to walk fine, but he didn’t have time to think about it as the shots continued. Sasha and Abraham sped on, still being chased by the other car. 

Daryl started up the bike again, pulling out only to be quickly followed by two more cars, the shooters from before now sitting in the passenger seats, leaning out with rifles aimed at him. He turned around another building, finding a small collection of walkers waiting for him. He weaved in between them, letting them become an obstacle for the vehicles in pursuit. 

He pulled around the few dumpsters and shipping containers in the area before turning down a gravel road in the back, one car following after him. The bike, thankfully, was retrofitted with off-road tires, making it easy for him to zip into the forest and ride between the trees. 

He waited under the cover of the forest while the car chasing him had driven past, taking the opportunity to pull across the road covertly. He continued down a gravel road, well, more of a trail, the bike beginning to slow as the roaring engine became more of a hum.

Daryl and the bike made it to a barren part of the forest, no leaves and no vegetation, simply tall stalks that seemed to be trees and various sticks littering the ground. This section of the forest had been on fire, little-to-no visible life remaining.

Letting the bike fall, Daryl collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily as the shock wore off and the pain began to set in. He grunted, sitting up slightly to survey the area. 

He made a small noise of surprise as a soft snarl caught his attention, and he turned to face a half-dead walker, burnt to a crisp, wearing motorcycle gear. The clothing had long since melted and cemented itself to the walker’s flesh, the helmet misshapen and black, the plastic burnt and warped. The biker was melted to the ground, and Daryl sighed, flopping onto his back and staring up at the cloudy sky. 

When he was ready, Daryl slowly sat back up, gathered his thoughts and stood the bike up. He began the long, tedious venture of wheeling the bike through the woods, trying his best to maneuver through the burned corpses of walkers to get back to Alexandria.

It wasn’t easy. This bike was very heavy, not to mention the ground not exactly as smooth as an asphalt road. He wheeled it down a small hill, grunting in frustration as it got away from him, hitting the ground. He didn’t have much energy left for this, wincing at the feeling of his clothing rubbing against the road rash. Thankfully, he still had his walkie. Though whether or not he was in range with anyone was another question. They’d have to be about six miles away, and he had no hope of contacting anyone at Alexandria.

“Sasha, Abraham, are you there?” He asked. There was only static for a response and he shut it off. His blood was beginning to trickle down his fingers. In frustration, Daryl ripped off one of the fingerless gloves he wore, shrugging out of the jacket to reassess his injuries. He hissed in pain, cradling his arm a bit as he looked through the blood. Not terrible. 

Unclipping a bag from the frame of the bike, he started to open it to find his first aid supplies when a twig snapped in the distance. There was rustling, so he dropped the bag and swapped it for his crossbow. Pulling a few fallen branches over his bike, he started off in the general direction to find whatever it was that was disturbing him.

He crept silently across the dirt toward a tree that had a few branches leaning against it in a makeshift lean-to, whipping around the side only to find two young women, standing up abruptly, their hands in the air. The two of them were disheveled, covered in dirt and soot. But they seemed unarmed, which meant there was either someone else around, or hidden weapons.

“You found us, okay?” The taller one with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail huffed. The shorter one with cropped blonde hair said nothing, half hiding behind her. “Here we are. We earned what we took.” Another twig snapped behind him and just as Daryl turned to look, a shorter man with blond hair and scraggly facial hair smacked him across the face with a thick tree branch. Then everything went dark.

-

TAGLIST:

@heidiland05

@ryoujoking

@catlalice

@maxinehufflepuffprincess

@lowkeyhottho

@fadingpalacebonkpsychic

@hayley1998

@negansbestie

@lizey-thornberry

[roseamongroses]

eggheads | en

Shuri/Riri Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Summer Camp Teacher!Riri, Auntie! Riri, Auntie! Shuri, Plot Device Rainstorm, Sexual Content, Missed Connections, Riri Williams is a Hot Mess, Shuri's into it

Summary: Sometimes smart people can be a little dumb when it comes to matters of love.

-

Shuri picks up her nephew from summer camp and meets his rather interesting teacher. Sparks fly--or at least they could, but it'll take a little more effort for them to get to the first date.

ao3

“Science camp?” Shuri repeated outloud, baffled—floored—befuddled even.

She swung her carry-on over her shoulder, her wide, glossy sunglasses sliding into place as she stepped outside the airport, “You paid…American dollars... to send my nephew—my cherished blood— to an…" she tasted the words on her tounge, disgust plain, "American, science summer camp? You could have sent him home for free. Is he being punished?”

Nakia’s holograph flickered over the left lens of Shuri’s sunglasses, “Not at all,” she said with a light-hearted chuckle, “You must understand, he practically begged to go. He wants to be like his auntie,” she teased, eyebrows raising pointedly, “Every kid his age apparently goes there for the summer, so I thought it’d be a good experience.”

And at that—Shuri’s heart warmed a smidge with smug satisfaction, “What does he even do there?” she asked, signaling her driver.

“Well, last week they learned about rock formations and visited a river to collect samples. This week they’re learning about circuits and— ” Nakia paused, squinting a bit, lips pursed as she thought, “He wants to show you himself, so I can’t spoil all the fun.”

“Bah--keep your secrets then,” Shuri said, popping the trunk to her car and throwing her suitcase in without a second glance. She accepted the keys from the driver, passing back a sizable tip in return, “What’s the address again?”

-

Miles away there was a little brick building across from the East Shore Public Library. It was a community center that had seen better years, but it wasn’t any less lively. Rainbow paper-chains threaded through the metal chain-link fences, green cups peppering the front window sills that were filled with budding sprouts, and a faded mural of stars and planets spanned the wall facing the street.

Several kids burst out of the front doors, capes tied around their shoulders as they clambered after one another. They all sprinted towards the jungle-gym out back--an adventure has begun it seems.

Inside, chipped, sickly-yellow walls were littered with peeling flyers. The words were bright, demanding you remember that--and dream for this--and volunteer for that. Little heads slouched along one wall, dark eyes staring ahead--the lot scowling, pouting, and grumbling as they waited to be freed from time out.

A line of colorful doors dotted down the hallway. Inside each classroom there were equally colorful tables, chairs, and walls. The kids clustered around each one--voices overlapping like a chirping nest of birds, grubby fingers reaching for the many tools and materials sprawled across the surface of their respective table. Scissors, wire, little light-bulbs and batteries--they all fought for their weapons of choice.

Their teacher moved about the classroom with ease. She stood tall--which wasn’t saying much, but she stood tall enough. Her grown-out, auburn braids were gathered in a messy bun, sitting crooked at the top of her head. She wore a long, cargo skirt that dragged behind, the sound of her beat-up work boots catching your ear long before you saw her face. The kids dutifully worked on the project, following her instructions.

Well…most of the kids did.

Toussaint stared at the scattered pieces in front of him. Clunky, disconnected--looking nothing like the cartoon diagram. He frowned, mouth shrinking into his face, hands crumpling the instructions as his frustration grew. It tickled his throat and clogged his breath.

“I…don’t get it,” he mumbled to himself, lip wobbling a bit.

What was he doing wrong?

Everyone else understood the instructions just fine. Little lights flickering on one-by-one, each one leaving him behind.

“But it's so easy? I’m done--” Demitrius boasted next to him.

He was a boy who was more afro than face. He had been doodling on the paper and table for most of the time, his project hastily put together long-before they even got instructions. It looked equally wrong and was covered in pudding--gross.

Across the table, the only girl at the table was slumped over, snoring away. Lunella had spent a total of five minutes putting together her project with little difficulty. She didn’t follow the instructions at all. There were parts moving, blinking, and whirring away--most of which she had grabbed from her bag.

She was most likely closer to being a scientist then any of them--then him.

Toussaint flinched at the realization, blinking rapidly as those little drops flowed.

He stared at the paper--it started right back.

Why didn’t it make any sense? Why couldn’t he do something so simple--

Looking up again, Demitrius did a double take, crayon falling as panic flashed across his face. His hand shot up, waving a bit, “Uh…Titi?” he called out, eyes darting around the classroom.

Riri let out a long, drawn out sigh, pinching her nose, “No, lil-man you cannot eat the wires. I done told you this--” she turned around, face falling.

No matter how long she's done this--she could never get used to the face of a crying child.

Toussaint sniffled quietly, tears running hot down his cheeks. They fell onto the instructions, blotting out the words like scattered shadows-- his hands shaking. He didn’t hear the footsteps nor the dragging skirt. He doesn’t know when, but he blinked and the sickly, yellow walls of the hallway were around him.

Riri crouched in front of the child--speaking low and unhurried.

Toussaint didn’t catch a word of what she said, but he pretended to hear. He wiped his nose, “...I’m okay,” he said, voice small--easily swallowed by the noise of the classroom and hallway, “I’m okay, I promise,” he repeated, hoping she’d believe him. Hoping she wouldn’t bring it up to his mom--she was busy enough. He didn’t want to worry her because he was being stupid. At that thought, he let out another choked up sob.

“Hey-hey, hey, I believe you,” Riri reassured softly, nodding as she wiped his face, “We’re jus’ gonna chill for a bit, that’s all.”

Toussaint nodded, sniffling as he blinked back the remaining tears.

After a while they finally returned to the classroom.

Miss Riri eyed the remains of his project curiously for a moment.

Toussaint fidgeted in his chair, looking off, embarrassed, but by the time he looked back--the light was blinking. It didn’t even look all that different from how he had it before and yet it worked.

Bright eyed, Toussaint looked up, “You fixed it,” he said, awed, prodding the project carefully.

“There wasn’t much to fix,” Riri said with a small smile, pointing to the two wires--purple and orange--he had unintentionally crossed, “You were on the right track, you just got a little mixed up.”

Demitrius nodded along, afro bobbing with the movement, “Of course she fixed it, my Titi’s the smartest in the world” he boasted, flashing a toothy grin.

Miss Riri snorted, ruffling his hair, “Well I guess I-”

At that, Toussaint’s nose scrunched up, “She’s not the smartest,” he said, matter of fact.

Demitrius scowled, head whipping around, “Yes she is-”

“No she isn’t-” Toussaint huffed, eyes narrowing as his chin raised, no lingering tears to be seen, “My Tati is the smartest.”

“No my T--”

“I’m sure we’re both smart,” Miss Riri said, cutting them both off with a no-nonsense look, “It’s not a competition, so--" her words were cut short as loud shrieks erupted from a nearby table--a kid threw up. Riri rushed over, conversation long forgotten as she tried to settle down the chaos.

In the meantime, Demitirus and Toussaint stared at each other, eyes glinting as a new challenge had been issued.

-

Afternoon pick up was a shit show like always.

Kids forgetting shit-- the shoes on their feet and the beads in their head. Parents acting tough for no good reason. Xavier had to break up several fights in the parking lot already. One kid crawled behind the front desk and scribbled over the entire sign in/out sheet in metallic sharpie. Then when she went to confiscate the sharpie, he threw up on her.

So yeah-- a normal, shit end to a shit day.

Riri didn’t hate her job, per say, but it certainly wasn't something she ever imagined doing. Wiping noses, breaking up fights, teaching the planets through song. It wasn’t exactly the filthy rich, inventor, astronaut she always envisioned herself becoming.But...it wasn’t like she had many options at this point. It helped that she liked dealing with kids better than undergrads, but she wasn’t sure that a consistent check was worth the biohazard-ass conditions.

After the first wave of pick-ups--the usual stragglers were left. The rest of the summer staff began to either clean up or supervise the remaining kids playing out back.

Riri manned the front desk, busying herself with the mountains of paper-work. She flipped through the sign in/out sheet, wincing as she noticed the sharpie was bleeding on everything else in the stack. Knowing her boss, he’d expect everything to get reprinted. She’d been bugging the man about setting up a digital sign-in, but he was averse to anything that wasn’t invented before the 1900s.

The bell on the front door rang, but she didn’t bother to look up, eyes darting between her open laptop and the stained paperwork.

Light footsteps approached the front desk and someone cleared their throat, “I’m here to pick up Toussaint,” they said with an accent she couldn’t quite place immediately.

Riri was briefly annoyed about the lack of a last name, but then remembered Toussaint was actually the only kid enrolled with that name this summer. She glanced up, before doing a double take.

That...was not Toussaint’s Mama.

Slim fingers with neatly trimmed nails rested against the counter, a long line she couldn’t help but follow up. Tall, lean, with tightly cropped curls. Shades blocking her eyes, dark and glossy like the athleisure set she wore. Expensive. She stood out—then again, she’d stand out anywhere. The stranger smiled—a cheeky flash of silver and dimples. Riri’s stomach flipped--funny—distantly she heard children laughing.

“Uh, right,” Riri blinked, brain doing a hard reset as she set aside the papers she was sorting through, “Can I see some I.D?” she asked, mouth on autopilot.

Reaching behind the desk, she found a beat-up binder, bursting at the seams. She flipped through the pages and accepted their Passport I.D comparing it to the student’s file. Very professional, calm, mature--fuck she looked a mess. She confirmed the information and picked up her walkie-talkie, notifying them to send Toussaint up.

Riri inhaled, putting on her best customer service smile, “You must be the famous Tati,” she mused as she handed back the I.D. She then adjusted her top, hoping to hide the stains.

Shuri raised her sunglasses, perching them on top of her head—distracting, dark eyes, catching the fluorescent glare like unearthed, precious stone, “He talks about me?” she asked.

“You’re all we can get him to talk about,” Riri shared, unconsciously tugging a braid loose from her bun and twirling it as she spoke, “He had us thinking you're the Queen of England.”

“Oh?”

Riri looked her up and down, eyes taking great care to take in every detail. She leaned against the counter, “I can believe it,” she said, looking around before her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “You’ve got a presence--real regal like.”

“Uh-huh,” Shuri murmured with a creeping smile, “What? Are you saying I'm intimidating?”

“Something like that…” Riri said with a low laugh, fingers tapping against the counter.

Everything about the teacher was--distracting.

Those hands, always in motion. The little cartoon band-aids around her thumbs, a bright, vibrant orange that matched the chain of little flags looping around the marbled, front desk. Gold hoops and a matching chain hanging above her collarbones, moles dotting the curve of her neck. Those broad shoulders and toned arms. Cropped tank-top and that long skirt that hung low on her hips--nothing indecent, but enough to be appreciated. The way her eyes never hesitated to meet her own--a silent challenge—a question.

Then Riri smiled again or rather her smile changed. It became smaller—less polished. Crooked—shy almost. The front gap in her teeth peeking through her lips. Distantly she heard children laughing.

Shuri was unable to decide where her eyes should land.

It was hard to describe--that lingering, something. The air tense, but not unfriendly as they stared at each other-- expectant. As if they were both waiting to see who’d be the first crack--the first to exhale--the first to ask--

Riri stiffened as her walkie-talkie went off again and she remembered herself--her job. She cleared her throat, “Yeah, Toussaint is a sweet student, but…”

At the mention of her nephew, Shuri's attention sharply pivoted, “Did something happen?”

“He had a tough time in lessons today,” Riri gently explained, “He got overwhelmed and had to step out of class for a little bit. Otherwise, he had a pretty good day.”

“Overwhelmed…?” Shuri repeated, uneasy, “Are the lessons difficult?”

After a certain age, she never saw the boy get upset at much. He was always a bright, cheerful child.

Then again, the same could’ve been said about her growing up. More often than not, she became rather adept at hiding the nastier feelings.

Riri sent her a sympathetic look, “The lessons are age-appropriate, but sometimes kids get frustrated and that makes it harder for them.”

Sometimes it wasn’t a matter of being smart enough. Humans are far too complicated to be ruled by logic alone. She knew it unsettled some guardians when their kids struggled. Knowing that it wasn’t something that’d be a quick fix or easily brushed under the rug. Sometimes she’s even had parents pull their kids out of the program--accusing her of all sorts of things, before eventually re-enrolling once they realized the options in the area for affordable S.T.E.M programs were slim to none.

Shuri looked a bit concerned, but she nodded her head, “I’ll be sure to inform his Mother. Thank you for letting us know," she said, making a mental note for later, “So... do you help plan the lessons?” she asked, conversationally.

Riri barked out a laugh, “Nah,” she said, shaking her head, schooling her expression quickly.

Shuri raised her eyebrow, “Not a fan, then?”

Riri hummed, looking off to the side, “The lesson plans are...fine,” she reluctantly admitted, “But, some kids are further along then others, so they get bored and…act up.”

“I’m sure they keep you busy.”

“Mhm," Riri's mouth pinched at the thought, muttering under her breath, "It’s my karma for all the shit I pulled in school growing up.”

“You? A troublemaker?” Shuri asked, leaning against the counter.

“You don’t believe it?” Riri's eyes squinted, cocking her head. A clean scent crept into her space--she didn't entirely mind.

Oh, Shuri believed it.

The teacher was trouble. From that ever elusive smile, to those dangerously sharp eyes--all carefully tucked behind that flimsy professional demeanor.

Growing up, the elders always said that where there was trouble, Shuri would follow.

Today wasn’t any different.

Shuri considered this for a moment, knowing what her next move should be, but--

“Tati--!” Toussaint shouted, sneakers squeaking as he rushed to greet his aunt.

The pair jumped at the sound, pulling away from each other.

Shuri cleared her throat, glancing back uncertainly, but she was quickly distracted as Toussaint jumped into her arms with a bubbly laugh. He was as bright as she remembered. Her worries eased, if only for that moment. It seemed as if her nephew had already forgotten his difficulties.

She lifted him up, the squirming boy falling into another fit of giggles as she tossed him about before setting him down.

Toussaint grabbed her hand, pulling her along as he chatted away. He tossed a careless wave behind, “Bye-bye Miss Riri, ” he called back, pushing through the doors.

Shuri sent Riri one final, lingering look before she was dragged away.

Once the door slammed shut, Riri sucked in her teeth, body slumping against the front desk. She pressed her head against the cool countertop, knocking it a few times for good measure as she collected her thoughts. She let out one, lengthy groan--disappointment rolling right into frustration.

Fucking dammit.

Sure she was sleep-deprived, covered in questionable stains, and looked a mess, but she definitely still had a chance.

If she was lucky, maybe she’d get to see her again.

-

Shuri swung that baby-blue, back-pack decorated with pink cats over her shoulder. She walked slower then normal, eyes glancing back towards the building every-so-often before inevitably returning to her nephew who was skipping, full-speed ahead.

She was confused, to say the least. They were interrupted, but Shuri had some time to at least ask for her number, give her number--something. But her mouth was dry, intended words lost and easily swept away by her nephew’s excitement.

It was undeniable--she froze.

That big brain of her--faltered, lingering far too long to get to the point. That never happens. She’s been attracted to women in the past. It certainly wouldn’t have been her first time initiating and yet she hesitated.

Riri was working. She was clearly exhausted. It didn’t…feel right to hit on someone when they couldn’t easily reject her advances.

That was probably it.

That was all there was to it.

Shuri shook her head, annoyed at herself. Regardless, the other woman was clearly interested. She should’ve taken the chance, but there was no point in getting too hung up over it. She was leaving in a week anyways.

She settled into the car, starting it up. She glanced into the rear-view mirror, making sure her nephew didn’t forget to put on his seatbelt as he continued to talk his head off.

“Did you go to college--” Toussaint randomly asked in the middle of describing the latest episode of that cartoon series he’s been watching.

Shuri took a moment to process the change of topic, pulling out of the parking space, “...College?” she echoed, confused, “No, I haven’t. Why do you ask?”

At that, her nephew’s face crumpled. He fiddled with his hands, mumbling, “Demitrius says you can’t be the smartest if you don’t go to college…”

Shuri paused at that, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Demitrius?

It must be one of the kids from camp.

“Our education system isn’t structured the same as western institutions,” she said, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

Toussaint straightened up at her tone, recognizing it as another one of her haphazard lessons.

Seeing that she had his attention, Shuri continued, “A good percentage of our population resides in rural areas, so our education system is relatively decentralized and the other tribes--”

Shuri’s built more schools then she’s attended to be honest. Over the years she’s even expanded beyond Wakanda to set up outreach and educational facilities. It was the reason she was in Chicago to begin with--she was overseeing the final touches of the newest facility.

Toussaint listened avidly as she detailed the various tribes and their educational systems. Sometimes she worried if she was going too fast or using too many words he didn’t understand, but he never balked at their discussions. He always took everything in, drinking in each word. Later on he’d usually quietly ask her to elaborate or explain anything he didn’t catch the first time. She figured that he preferred not to be babied. And considering the fact that he was their future King--she knew it was best to inform him the best she could.

Then out of curiosity, she asked what they were even talking about to bring up college to begin with.

“Oh, Demitrius said Miss Riri was smarter then you cause she went to MIT,” Toussaint explained, scowling at the reminder.

“She did?” Shuri asked, interest stirring once more, “Do you know what she studied?”

Toussaint scratched his head, nose scrunching up for a moment before he shook his head--no.

Shuri sighed, a little disappointed, “...Anyhow, you can’t quantify intelligence based on education alone," she said, deciding to move on, "There're far too many variables that can impact that and it can be difficult to compare across regions. Do you understand?”

Toussaint nodded, arriving to a conclusion. Although it probably wasn’t the conclusion Shuri anticipated. He stared out the window, watching the raindrops scatter towards the bottom, envisioning his raindrop beating the rest to the finish line.

[staticspaces]

Rust Rock Cathedral (Garbage Castle)

Don't forget, there is also a video to accompany this location!!

Found deep within a coulee along the Old Man River in Lethbridge, Alberta, we find this art installation that has occupied this space for over a decade. Surrounded by the steep hills of the ravine and right in the middle of the city, this structure is almost hidden, blending into its surroundings. From the sky it looks like a giant bird's nest, maybe from some prehistoric creature but as you get closer, you realise it's something else entirely.

Most commonly known as Rust Rock Cathedral but it has also been referred to as Garbage Castle or The Thing among others.

Construction began in 2013 after a large flood came through the area and left a lot of debris along its path. This garbage was then used to build the structure, everything from old bicycles, tires, driftwood and even chain link fencing.

Mystery surrounds this structure, some people think it was started by students from the nearby university, others think it was an art project started by some random person. There is also a group of people that believe it is haunted.

It is an ever evolving structure, with materials being added and even taken away on a daily basis. It started off much smaller being just one floor but over the years people have kept adding onto it, including building a second floor!

There has been much discussion about the structure over the years, some people want to see it destroyed and cleaned up. Because it is located on crown land, the city has said that it is out of their control but they also don't encourage people to visit. For now, this weird structure stands there as an unofficial tourist attraction deep within the river valley and constantly evolving.

[immemes72]

This one strange dream i had

So I have strange dreams, I'm sure everyone else has them aswell, but this one really stands out to me because its the only one of its genre i've had. (for the Japanese i used google translate, skin me if you must)

にせ モスラ (False Mothra)

This dream was one I vaguely remember, as the setting was similar to a large junkyard surrounded by a really large chain link fence I think like 10 to 20 meters tall.

 The characters were An american man in a cowboy hat, A Japanese man in a business suit, A Japanese woman in a fancy red and white dress, And a lanky man in a business suit whom I believe his face was an amorphous shape, but I digress, The main focus of the dream was for them to try and escape from the False Mothra, which looked similar to the 1961 Mothra except it was significantly smaller (think about the size of an airbus, so 35 to 38 meters) and its fuzz was matted in some places with dimmer colors, instead of legs it had this upside-down bowl shaped basket (like a cage) made from some weird black material that I assume was its actual mouth.

The False Mothra was just circling the junkyard, and everytime it would come near they would hide in a large plywood building. The dream ended with the cowboy hat guy slamming the amorphous face dude into the fence telling him to let them out.

i think i watch too many monster movies

[novankenn]

Perfection - A Homecoming (Ch7)

For the most part the remainder of the trip to the compound was uneventful and fairly smooth. After on final thump, the "truck" was brought to a top. Joan slid out of the turret and hit the release for the back ramp.

Joan: Welcome to la maison d'Arc. Watch your step.

Pyrrha waited for Jaune to exit the driver compartment, and followed him out of the "truck". Pyrrha didn't know what she was expecting when Jaune said they would be going back to his home, but a fortified compound was not anything close to what she had envisioned. On the outside of a barbwire topped chain-link fence, was a entirely cement walk way edged with a two foot concrete wall, which had at equal intervals the same type of automated sentry guns. The place would give Atlas a run for security.

Pyrrha: You grew up here?

Jaune: Only when I was older. I spent most of my time prior to age twelve in Ansel, going to school.

Pyrrha: Can I ask why... the fortifications?

Jaune: Preventative measures. Mom will explain everything to you, but let's just say there are things out in this valley that can't be let to escape. Things worse than grimm.

Pyrrha: Like those... what did you call them? Screamers?

Jaune: Shriekers., and something else.

Joan had vanished into the low plain looking concrete, bunker like house as Jaune and Pyrrha took their time walking and talking. Pyrrha did notice how the entire yard of the expansive space was filled with gravel. It crunched under their feet as they closed on the main building.

Joan had reappeared carrying a couple large rifles. she tossed one to Jaune without pause, followed by a bandoleer of some very large rounds.

Pyrrha: Jaune?

Jaune: Joan and I have to go out and check the last spot Dad was in. Mom will go over everything with you, and when I get back I'll answer any questions you have.

Joan: Sorry red. We're sort in a time crunch.

Pyrrha might not have been as geeky about weapons as Ruby, but she was very familiar with various firearms, and still not understanding what Jaune was referring to made her think that using anti-material rifles seemed like a little bit of over kill.

Pyrrha: Is that type of firepower needed?

Jaune: Yes. We taking the "truck"?

Joan: The jeep. Get out and back a lot faster.

Jaune: Sounds go. You drive.

Joan nodded and headed towards a line of various all-terrain vehicles, sliding into the driver's seat of a rather plain looking jeep.

Pyrrha: Are you going to be okay? I would like to come with you.

Jaune: We'll be fine, Pyr, and I would like that but you need the crash course on what we're doing out here.

Pyrrha: And after this "crash course"?

Jaune: You'll be good to be out there with Joan and me.

Jaune reached out and gave Pyrrha's hand a squeeze.

Jaune: Thank you for coming Pyrrha. I mean it.

Pyrrha: No problem Jaune... you're important to me.

Jaune nodded, before moving off and climbing into back of the jeep. He set his rifle aside, and took hold of the grips for a machine-gun mounted on a post in the back bed... rather it looked more like a mini-gun than a regular machine gun.

As the jeep backed out and took off into the valley, Pyrrha entered the main building.

(==[Table of Contents]==)

[undead-merman]

Garnet

December 31st 2015

To my horror, my father's scraps of rambling claiming to be research turned out to be true. 

Deep in this unnamed facility past a million warning signs was the monster. His eyes gleaming in the darkness, reflecting the light of my lantern. I swear his eyes bore into me as if he was reading my very soul. He shouldn't be alive, not for how long this place has been abandoned. Life behind a chain link fence with only stagnant air and dust particles. 

I pulled him out and seeing as how I simply came here to fight off my burning curiosity and hatred, I don't have a team to help me swipe the place and collect the research from the last group that contained him. I've contacted my most trusted allies to help me. They'll arrive any day now to my camp just outside this worn down concrete mess of a building. 

He's semi feral. He understands basic body language, but does not speak or respond to any spoken language. I've tried. He growls and hisses at the most basic of things. He didn’t even understand forks and knives. He doesn’t even eat with his hands, he kneels down and licks it up from the ground. It’s a sad sight, really. I managed to lead him outside with some scraps of my lunch. He hissed and shied away from the sun like it was a beast. The poor thing, I shielded him away from the sun and waited with him until the sun went down. I made him a spot in my tent, and I'm watching him. I can’t be too careful with how wild he seems to be. He’s sleeping in my bedroll. 

I cannot believe my father was right. The power of manifestation is true and has happened in the past, allowing a billion gods to be born over the years… Garnet, as I will be calling him from now on, doesn’t seem to look like one. He looks more like a demon. Garnet horns, a long tail, rough skin with pillars of said stone growing out of his spine and across his skin. His skin I can tell is supposed to be a much more saturated red, but with who knows how long he’s been in there he’s surely gotten paler. 

I’m going to do my best to look after him. I think I should look into my father’s notes more as well. 

January 5th 2016

A few days have gone by, and I want to compile my notes here. My new team has arrived, a few of my late father’s friends, a few friends of my own. All of them know of my father’s sudden detrimental interest in manifestation, even after all his years as a man of hard science. A handful of them searched the building, while a few stayed with me and studied Garnet. 

Previous research dating back to the 1800s shows he wasn’t always feral. He was a calm-collected man that was theorized to be a demon of sorts. The horns on his head are indeed made from pure garnet, as well as the protrusions on his body. He used to have wings, as stated in some of the old writings, but they must have atrophied and fallen off. 

I’ve taken some time to try and teach him some basic English. He’s a fast learner, which makes my life a lot easier, though it seems like he used to speak it a long time ago. My guess with how long he’s been alone, he’s forgotten it. Makes me sick to my stomach. Over a hundred years of solitude. Strangely enough, looking at his old enclosure, there were no signs of attempted escape. He stayed put like a well-trained dog.  

There are thousands of files, some of them unreadable, almost all of them unorganized. We suspect people have been in here to explore or trash the abandoned facility, so it makes it harder to find material. But with Garnet the moral is up at the very least. Though, Garnet seems wary of new people. He only seems at ease around me and inside my tent. He snaps at anyone getting too close. In fact, he goes ballistic unless I stand in the way. I hate to describe it as such, but he acts like an unsocialized dog. Still, he seems like a good man, just lost from the stillness and loneliness of that facility. I’ve seen him sneak around and patrol my tent before curling up by my head. When he thinks I'm asleep he’ll lick my hair and chew it. 

Talking with the team they agreed to stay here for as long as it takes. One of them even inviting a few more to understand garnet, a biochemist, a genealogist, Histologist, Biophysicist, the whole nine yards. Some of my father’s friends are even paying for the expenses of this trip. I’m so grateful. I hope that the study doesn’t stress Garnet out too much. Furthermore, I’ve resolved myself to taking Garnet’s comfort as a priority. If he doesn’t want to do something, then I will make sure that they don’t press anymore. 

January 16th 2016

Our team has done some more digging and careful organizing and we’ve found out more about Garnet’s reason for being here. This used to be a research company that was looking into lab grown crystals but had ended up finding Garnet. They had harvested garnets from his body using different methods from bloodletting to cutting them out of his skin after burning him. From what it seems his blood would solidify into gemstones. It would provide hefty amounts, though their color would be low quality. The act of burning him which would scab over with the crystal and yank them out. These would result in much higher quality garnets. They wanted to test this, but I refused. It's far too inhumane. 

We have also discovered he’s been there for generations. They had found a collection of folders called ‘Project Vein’, they didn’t even properly give him a name. I couldn’t stop myself from crying, knowing this man had gone through all that for some stupid fucking jewelry. Worst of all, when he saw me crying he straddled me licking my face and tried to comfort me, me. I couldn’t sleep that night, I didn’t even try. 

The company dissolved after the great depression and he had been there ever since. Wasting away as he waited for someone to come find him. Save him, give him orders. Good riddance. I don’t even want to know the names of the people working here… it would eat me up inside. 

We’ve been trying to teach him more and he’s picked up on it more and more. Instead of basic words, he’s relearned slightly more complex sentences. Thankfully, he’s a bit more social now and not just hovering around me and hissing and biting at the others. Not to say he doesn’t hover still but at least he’s not hostile to the others at camp. My father’s closest friends from work, he has taken great interest in Garnet. He keeps trying to feed him and get Garnet to spend time with him. Garnet is still wary of him. We did find out Garnet enjoys fruit. One in particular being a pomegranate. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. We gave it to him, and we watched as he peeled the flesh with such delicacy. No juice spilled from it unless it was already in his mouth. We all sat around and watched as he plucked seed after seed. He offered a handful to my colleague and myself before eating the rest. Ever since then, he’s been pestering us for ‘the tiny pom’. 

His body is nothing like the doctors have ever seen. They were able to take small tissue samples and do some check up and scans. The tissues turned to Garnets within a few minutes. After study, his flesh truly turned to the crystal. The Mineralogist explained that garnets have a few different species. He seems able to produce many species… I wasn’t aware there were species.... Chrome pyrope garnet seems to be the main one he produces. He’s only able to produce a red variety as far as we know. But even she doesn’t know if. His flesh produces Spessartine. She wanted to take samples from all over his body including bone and marrow samples, but I refused.  

I made sure they don’t go overboard with testing. As fascinating as he is, I cannot allow any mistreatment. 

January 25th 2016

We have been here for nearly a month and Garnet has made leaps and bounds worth of progress. His long hair had been bothering him so they went head and cut his hair. He perked up the minute they showed him his reflection and he came scrambling over to me asking if I liked it. It suits him, and now I don’t have to spend twenty minutes every morning combing it. 

He’s finally comfortable wearing clothing, much to everyone’s relief. With the cold, It only further proves the point that he is not bound by reality like us mortals. While he contains a stomach, he does not need to eat, he doesn’t need to sleep, the cold has no effect on him, he can have his body torn apart and beaten and still be fine, and heal it all away within a matter of hours. 

He is not a mortal creature. If my father had any say in this, he would have called it a god. Garnet ceaselessly creates from his body without the need for energy. What else could you call it? I’m not even sure myself. Father’s research says there are billions of them. Gods created from the ideas and concepts attached to them. He mentioned gemstones, devils, zodiac, animals, though gemstones are primarily the object of his interest. Garnet, amethyst, ruby, topaz and citrine. He claimed to have known about Garnet, his mother telling stories about him. I worry that my family was somehow involved with him. 

We’ve plucked through as much as we could inside, but sadly time has destroyed most of their research. What I've previously written down in my cataloging is simply all we have. Garnet doesn't seem to remember anything after the last visit to him. From what he's told me, a man had come up to him and told him to wait there. He waited and waited until I came. 

Everyone discussed what to do next. Without Garnet consenting to testing, there wasn’t much they could do. But when I told them about my father’s research, they asked if I was planning to see if there was more like Garnet. I had to admit it. If there were any more creatures like Garnet, I was willing to risk everything to find them. 

I really am my father’s child… 

They agreed to help me and asked what to do with Garnet, and honestly I had to think awhile about it. I simply just couldn’t let him go about the world on his own. I know it in my heart that he’d be taken advantage of the moment someone got him in his grasp. But keeping him with me? It is not like he’s some pet. I’d have to hide him, keep him safe. I’m not sure if I am up to the task. 

But seeing how Garnet curls up to me every single night, licking my fingers and hair, and nibbles at my shoulder just to hug and hold me, I knew I had to. I told the group I’d keep him by my side and Garnet was thrilled about it. He latched on and didn’t let go until bed. I’d have to return home to look more into my father’s notes. The people of my camp offered to help me get back without having to arouse suspicion from the public. I am privileged to have such lovely people surrounding me in this mission. When I told Garnet that we’d be traveling back home, his tail whipped around wildly, and he seemed to take pride in the fact I called it home for the both of us. I hope I can spoil him like he deserves. 

January 28th 2016

We ended up taking a train. We were able to have a whole private cart to ourselves, so I didn’t have to worry about Garnet getting overexcited and getting caught. I had to thank one of my dad’s old friends for that. 

He was pressed by the window the entire time, and he refused to let me squirm away. I was by his side with his hand around my waist as he watched trees and mountains go by. It was charming seeing how amazed he was. Every seat cushion he bounced on, the table he laid upon and lounged like a king. After so long alone, it was heartwarming to see him so enthusiastic about the world. 

I’d let him pick at my lunch and takes the things he wanted as I looked up more about Gemstones, mostly the ones about my dear new friend. 

From my dad’s rants, I remember him saying that humans assigning characteristics would result in a grain of truth. So I looked at what the birthstone would represent and their symbolism. It was sweet seeing him sniff and poke at my pad and pen. 

Loyalty, passion, healing, and protection were the most common aspects… and it would make sense for him. Loyal to the end. Waiting for someone to come find him. I have to push down all those hateful feelings. I have Garnet to look after. 

Maybe in the future we will find more about them, but for now I'm going to spend some time looking into my father’s things and making sure Garnet feels safe, loved, and taken care of. He deserves it. 

[randomvarious]

Today's compilation:

Bad Boys of Rock 1986 Hard Rock / New Wave / Power Pop / Pop-Rock / Blues-Rock

A few different thoughts about this silly record are running through my head right now, but I guess the most dominant one is that I feel like once the honorific of 'bad boy of rock' gets conferred upon you, you can no longer actually be a 'bad boy of rock,' because I think that's, like, one of the single-lamest things that anyone can ever consider you as. It's sort of like when a politician tries to use a piece of teen slang to seem hip or aware or 'down'—once they decide to put it out there, they themselves have pretty much ruined it for everyone else 👎.

Could you please just shut the fuck up?! 😵

But OK, let's say that I don't actually have a problem with this 'bad boy of rock' label and that I instead take it at face value. Fine. Are you folks ready for the first song that opens this fucker up then? It's gonna be some real 'bad boy' material, right? Nope. How about David Lee Roth doing a solo stint as a road-weary lounge singer and covering a fucking 1940s swing medley instead? And he even scats too! Like, what are we even doing here, man? This rendition of "Just a Gigolo" / "I Ain't Got Nobody" is legitimately one of the worst hits that I think I've ever heard in my life, so in that sense of the word, this song is *really* BAD, but I don't think that's the kind of 'bad' that Priority Records was trying to sell here, because, um, why would they?

And that's ultimately what I think makes this release so ridiculous. It's not really the music itself—because outside of that one DLR song, I do enjoy a bunch of the selection here—it's the idea that almost any of these people or their music would ever cause them to be referred to as 'bad boys of rock' in the first place. I mean, two-hit wonder power pop band Tommy Tutone who did "867-5309"? George Thorogood's dorky and gravelly blues-rock persona? Rockabilly revivalists Stray Cats, whose frontman Brian Setzer would later go on to lead his own swing orchestra and cover the same guy that David Lee Roth coincidentally covers on this record too? J. Geils Band's catchy "Centerfold"? Rod Stewart? You mean, *SIR* Rod Stewart? And MEAT LOAF?!?

We have plenty of hindsight now, of course, but I feel like, even when this record came out in 1986, there's just no way that people actually thought that those responsible for the music on here were rebellious at that point. *Maybe* Billy Idol, but find a different theme to group all these songs under, because this concrete-and-chain-link fence aesthetic that you've got on the cover here ain't workin', guys. If anything, this is more or less 'Bad Boys of Rock' for sleepy-suburban dads who've spent tens of thousands of dollars on a Harley and keep it in their linoleum floor garage so that they can take it out on Sunday afternoons in order to feel a tinge of freedom before being made to go back to their 9-to-5 the next day. Like, so freaking badass, you guys.

And, I mean, if we *really* wanted the baddest boys of rock on here, we need to go in a different direction altogether. We need, like, G.G. Allin on this thing, because, really, is there anything badder that someone can do as a performer than eat their very own poop on stage? Outside of an act of violence, I really don't think so!

So, let's see...yesterday was Women & Songs 4, today was Bad Boys of Rock...I guess that means tomorrow is going to be something like Good-Natured Enbies Who Prefer Silence Instead? 😅 Naw, it'll probably be, like, mid-90s techno or Wisconsinite 80s alternative or something or other.

✌️

Highlights:

Tommy Tutone - "867-5309 (Jenny)" Rod Stewart - "(I Know) I'm Losing You" Billy Idol - "Rebel Yell" Sammy Hagar - "Cruisin' & Boozin'" Stray Cats - "Rock This Town" J. Geils Band - "Centerfold"