#Cross posted on bird app and blue sky

[frankenhoez]

I just think Thancred deserves love

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Lovebug (5/10)

Summary:  

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4

The golf course was big, big enough that his Levi’s first instinct was to contemplate the size.

He had attempted quick calculations that got nowhere, only detailed enough for him to realize, golf courses were a total waste of space. They were large green spaces that could have held happy pedestrians, happy families and maybe a few more houses. Yet, they were areas which only housed a few players at a time.

And how many times had he repeated variations of that soft tirade to himself since they arrived there that morning?

Maybe he was being a little too harsh, he thought to himself a few times.

Then he realized, maybe he would have been nicer, if he had managed to shake off the last bouts of sleepiness having woken up at five in the morning. Maybe he would have been nicer if the grass didn’t crunch under him in such an unflattering manner. Maybe he would have been nicer if the only pair of shoes he had brought with him to the country club weren’t a clean shade of white.

And maybe he would have been nicer if golf wasn’t such a deceptively easy sport.

He would have definitely been nice if he had been in a better mood that morning. And maybe he would have been in a better mood if Zeke hadn’t been just a little too amused at his apparent discomforts.

He was sure the only thing he had to do was hit the ball with a golf club and hit it a few more times until he reached the hole. To hell with strokes and strategy, there was no winning against Zeke.

He wasn’t at all dispirited. He wasn’t an idiot either. It was a valid conclusion to stumble upon after realizing that hitting the small white ball balanced on a tee wasn’t as straightforward as they made it look on Youtube.

“Is this your first time playing Ackerman?” Zeke asked. He was definitely more cordial than yesterday. The past two minutes of accidentally hitting air instead of the ball though had Levi a little more perceptive of the minute movements on Zeke’s face, the sliver of a smile and the slight raise of eyebrows.

Next to him was Hange. He had a snuck a glance at her a few times and unfortunately, her expression was unreadable.

“I haven’t played in years,” Levi said. In fact, he had never played at all, let alone set foot on a golf course. After rambling on about tea time for the past few minutes, expressing genuine excitement at the prospect of ‘tea time,’ Levi realized he had two embarrassments to pick from. He could admit to having never played golf in his life and potentially lose brownie points with Hange or he could just subtly imply that maybe he hadn’t played for so long that he had gotten a little rusty.

Very rusty. Levi feigned a look of surprise and a nod of his head as he accidentally hit the air instead of the golf ball for the third time that morning.

The golf club was just a little too thin and the ball was just a little too round, Levi justified. And you never played golf in your life. His conscience reminded him.

“Maybe you should do some practice shots before you move on to the actual course,” Erwin suggested.

Levi had made two lucky yet still very sloppy shots. “It’s fine, I can keep playing,” he said. I just have to get my swing back. He would have added if guilt and shame hadn’t been such a looming emotion.

“Or you could try to do some practice swings before you hit the ball. It can help fix your aim,” Hange added, her tone was evidence enough of her good intentions.

Zeke shrugged. “Or you could just keep trying to hit. If you wanna waste your strokes on that, I see no problem with you swinging.”

“Waste… my strokes?” Levi asked. He had read on strokes that night. To win a golf tournament, the player had to hit the ball into all eighteen holes in the golf course.

It was a very simple sport which turned out to have more nuances than Levi had bothered to check the night before.

“Well, if you try to swing and miss the ball, that counts as one stroke,” Hange explained matter-of-factly.

“Wait… so that means I have other strokes… Aside from those I counted?”

“Ideally yes,” Zeke said. “By that confused look on your face, I’m assuming though that you haven’t been counting them.”

Levi’s eyes had been too wide and maybe he had been blinking just a little too fast. He looked down, pretending to focus on the small white ball in front of him. From his peripherals, he was watching Zeke. When he realized he had no control of his expression, he decided he wasn’t going to look up until Zeke looked away from him. “Should I be counting them?” Levi mustered.

“Ideally yes.” Zeke repeated, in the exact same tone as a second ago. “But you know Levi… if you haven’t played in a long time, then maybe we could allow you to make as many air shots as you want. It makes for some great practice. Think of it as training wheels on a bike or those floaties in a pool.”

“I don’t need a handicap.” I’m not a beginner. Levi would have added if the subtle weight of that white lie wasn’t hampering him at that moment.

“Well, I don’t wanna win against someone who is averaging scores way over par either,” Zeke said. “It’s not fun.”

“Over par?” Levi pulled his scoresheet out of his pocket. Until a moment ago, he had been proud of the fact that he had managed to hit the ball into the hole. The clack of the ball against the walls of the hole before it sank into the bottom had lightened his mood a bit. The woosh of the club, the sound of the bottom hitting the tea had been oddly satisfying.

At first glance, ‘over par’ had sounded like a compliment or something neutral at the least. The wry smile Hange had given him though had him nitpicking his scorecard.

“Well, the last five holes were par-three holes,” Hange said. She wasn’t lying, just below the table on Levi’s score card were a row of numbers next to the word ‘par.’

“Meaning any golfer worth their salt would finish them in three strokes,” Zeke added.

The numbers just above the three were all above tens and Levi had been proud of the eight, strangely proud. His mind had been petty enough to bring with it flashbacks of Erwin and Zeke hitting more than three strokes in some holes. The more logical side of his mind though was arguing two much more reasonable points. Firstly, Zeke and Erwin had never gone above ten strokes, he was sure of that. Secondly, they never completely missed the ball mid swing.

“Well, there’s still progress,” Hange came up from behind him and pointed at the scorecard. “You have a seventeen for the first hole… but the second ones are nearer to ten and look, you have an eight here,” Hange said pointing at the fourth column. She looked at Zeke and Erwin standing just a few feet away. “He’s just getting used to it. He’ll be fine.”

“Well, we still have thirteen more holes,” Erwin said. “You have a lot of time to get your swing back.”

Thirteen holes? Right, a full golf course had eighteen holes. He remembered reading about that. He didn’t expect to be completely exhausted after the first five though.

***

It didn’t get easier. In fact, it only got harder and the scorecard was a good guide. The numbers next to the word ‘par’ only got bigger and bigger the farther they walked and Levi was also starting to fear losing the ball among shrubs or having it just plop aimlessly into one of the bodies of water that were scattered across the greens.

If it falls, does someone have to swim in and get it? It was a ridiculous question to occupy himself with then. The country club was occupied by the richest of the rich, no one would bother to even get a golf ball that falls into a pond. Still, the past few holes had been nothing but surprises. Levi had admitted to himself early on that he was utterly lost. He was even starting to lose trust in his quick ability to deduce and answer such ridiculous questions. He was aware enough to know it was dumb enough to ask anyway.

“You’re making par-fives look easy. It’s definitely your years in the driving range paying off now.” Zeke was definitely not talking to him. His voice was too gentle, too reverent that for a good few moments, Levi almost believed it had been Erwin talking.

“Zeke mentioned that you had a good range,” Erwin said, making the contrast of Zeke and Erwin’s voice all the more distinct.

“It’s the closest thing we can get to golf back in the city,” Hange said. “Besides, it’s a good way to let off some…” She chose that moment to hit the ball with one fell swoosh, one flick of the wrist. “Steam!” For a few seconds after, she was breathing a little harder.

Although Levi tried, he could barely make out the white ball among the greens a good few yards away.

“You always had a lot of steam to let out,” Zeke quipped.

“And that’s why the driving range is my favorite part,” Hange said, a smile playing at her lips, her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled. And the object of such a cute and playful expression had been Zeke Jaeger. Still, it was a cute expression Levi had managed to enjoy from a distance.

Hange was smiling more. Her eyes were brighter and she was walking with longer, more confident strides than a while ago. As if she was in her natural habitat.

It had taken a little longer than a few minutes to catch up to the ball she had just thrown yards away. Levi was counting and everything happened a little too quickly. Hange got the hole in three solid strokes.

“An eagle! That’s your fourth bird today." Surprisingly, Zeke had the ability to be a bundle of pride, particularly when it was Hange next to him, and his arm was around her again.

"What can I say? I've been practicing," Hange responded.

Levi turned to the sky above him, searching the blue for some familiar shadow. No birds. Of course it would be a metaphor.

A metaphor which a half hour binge of golf videos did not prepare him for.

Levi was tempted to do a quick Google search then. His phone was safely tucked in his golf bag though and Hange had been too good of a view to miss.

The strides remained confident. Even crouched down dropping the ball on the tee, Hange had been domineering, confident. She continued to hit ball after ball in pounces and swishes.

Like an eagle. A condor. An albatross. All prowling, ready to swoop down at their prey.

The bird metaphors never ended. When Levi listened closely, he started to realize, Erwin and Zeke never actually stopped mentioning terms like eagles, birdies and boogies. When it was Hange’s turn to hit, Zeke was always mentioning a bird.

Birdies. Eagles. Albatrosses. “You think you can manage an ostrich?” Zeke asked. That was the first time Levi heard the word ostrich in the past few hours and such an ungraceful animal mentioned among all other graceful predators had him letting out a cough in surprise.

“You know, no one’s ever managed it. I’ve never done a condor in my life either,” Hange said.

“This is your last chance to get one for this course,” Zeke said.

“I’m not aiming for one,” Hange said.

Levi only had to look at the scorecard to realize that was their last hole for the day. He stared down a little lower to see a six under the empty box.

A par-six hole. So any golfer worth their salt would get the ball to the hole in six strokes. All the numbers next to the par were the numbers he should have been aiming for. Looking up at his own score, he was reminded that his numbers were usually twice or even thrice the numbers in the par row.

He thought back to Erwin, Zeke and Hange who had waited right behind him while he missed swings, missed holes when his balls were only inches away and concluded for himself that the numbers were a very reasonable estimate. He was still very much over par.

A below par golfer. It was a shitty joke. But.when the only thing keeping him following the three seasoned golfers was his self esteem that his been whittled at for hours, his mind was seeking comfort in the smallest yet most ridiculous things.

“Levi, you go first since you’re probably going to take more strokes anyway,” Zeke said.

Levi felt his hairs bristled at that. Zeke’s voice had been too near, too abrupt and Levi had been too busy surveying his surroundings for the flag.

Where is the hole? Levi opened his mouth to ask. The question died into a fake cough though when the red flickered for a second, just beyond the tall greens in front of him. “So, we get it to the other side of that?” He pointed one slightly shaky finger at the overgrowth in front of him.

Zeke shrugged. “Or you can go around it.”

“Going around might be a better idea,” Erwin said. “ He drew a half circle with his hand, tracing the trajectory of whatever ball he would probably be hitting. “Grass and trees might affect your swing.”

“You can hit a curveball.” The tone and the content of the suggestion framed it as almost good-intentioned advice. Zeke had narrowed his eyes at Levi as he said it.

Levi could barely even hit a decent ball. And you think I can do a curveball? He looked away from Zeke and at the more friendly landscape next to the mini forest. He wasn’t aiming for anything under par anyway.

Ending that damn course with remaining dignity would be nice and all he had to do was play it safe.

“You face your club a little to the left and swing to the right. It makes the ball spin.” Hange spoke up in the few second long silence.

Levi jumped at the abrupt yet mellow voice. A sound of the clack of metal and Levi instinctively looked down to find the ball had fallen off the tee. He bent down, ready to pick it up.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Hange asked. Her movements weren’t helping to calm Levi down either. Whether she had even noticed it or not, when she had crouched down next to Levi. And her presence had come out of nowhere, a phantom in his peripherals, just like the her voice of a while ago that Levi found himself having to keel over, placing one hand on the floor just to avoid tripping over.

The ball started to roll further away. Hange was quick to catch it. “Yeah, you seem pretty jumpy today. It really has been a while since you played huh?” She placed the ball on the tee. “A curveball will save you the hazard of going into the forest or going too far right instead of forward,” she explained.

“Maybe you should teach him how to swing the club first before teaching him to curve the ball,” Zeke chided.

“He had enough holes to practice. Who knows, he might just make it under par for the last one,” Hange said.

“On a par-three hole maybe, not for a par-six one.” Erwin shook his head, a ghost of a playful smile on his face.

“Either way, we’re used to waiting for him to finish anyway,” Zeke said. “We had seventeen holes to get used to it.”

I can at least try. In response, whatever was left of Levi’s dignity echoed Hange’s last few pieces of advice. Club facing left, swing to the right. Words weren’t the best guide though. Levi only realized it for himself when his mind went on overdrive.

Which left? Whose left? Which right? Whose right? He could have sworn Hange had been in front of him for a second. And what is the point of coordinating all these movements? He concluded, there were things he would only ever learn through doing.

And his body hadn’t still even gotten used to the flick of his wrist, the unnatural weight of the golf club and the need to make sure the club actually hit the ball. He had been thinking everything at once in that split second it had taken to hit the ball. At the same time, he had managed to face his club left, swing a little to the right.

Or he could have sworn he did. In that split second, Levi lost sight of the ball. He stared at the sky for a few seconds before deciding, it probably wasn’t there. He turned to the flat land to his right, no white specks either.

He heard the beginnings of a laugh just behind him.

Zeke’s laugh. “You really hit your ball there huh?”

“Is it out of bounds?” Levi asked, stifling whatever emotion was creeping out of him. It turned out much easier to just keep his voice monotone.

“Well, technically it’s not. It’s still playable,” Erwin said. “But if you look at the terrain…”

When Levi squinted he saw it, beyond the greens was a little dirty brown then just beyond it the speck of red.

“You’re years too early for an exhibition, Levi,” Zeke said.

“I think it’s playable.” Hange’s voice probably wasn’t the voice of reason but it was a source of comfort though.

She pulled a club from her golf bag and positioned herself to hit her own ball. She did a few practice swings, biting her lower lip in concentration.

Her motions were coming out, disjointed, so stark of a contrast from a while ago that Levi clearly recalled her own seamless movements until that moment. Her own hit had ended with her swinging position just a little too loose, the ball flying aimlessly a good few feet above him then the soft rustle of trees.

Hange looked back at them, a light shrug of defeat. Or acceptance. Her shrug had been too much of a big ham though to have been anything worth pitying. “I guess I’ll be playing through the forest too,” she said.

***

“You know there’s a time limit to finding your ball,” Hange said.

It was definitely an attempt to make conversation. Since they entered the forest, Hange had been seemingly restless, she was hummed, she tutted. Only when Levi grunted in return did that little exchange even become somewhat more coherent.

“Well, then I lose,” Levi said.

“No, you don’t get disqualified if you don’t find it. You just get a stroke penalty and you can start---”

“Well, I think I’m done for the day anyway.” That admission was enough to pull some of the weight off of his shoulders. When it was just Hange there, somehow it had been easier to hint, he wasn’t at all enjoying his morning.

For a few seconds longer, they were silent, save for the rustle of the crunch of the leaves below, the rustle of branches. Hange could have been making a sound. If the raising of eyebrows, the pursing of lips and the shifting of features into a wide smile could have counted as one.

He didn’t have the leeway to think too much into it though. Before he could stare and contemplate for a while longer, Hange broke the silence. “I’m guessing you actually never played golf.” She was saying it too gleefully like she had just caught him stealing a cookie from a cookie jar.

He had feared Hange seeing right through him until that moment. Such an exchange had come out almost anticlimactic. “You’re right. I never did. I grew up in the city and we don’t get a lot of golf courses in the city and country club memberships are expensive.”

“Why did you say you did? And you seemed so excited…” Hange trailed off. There was a disappointment in her tone, apparent enough to send a dull stab of guilt through him.

Levi sighed. “I thought of tea time not tee time,” he admitted.

“Tea time?” Hange asked.

Levi put his finger to his mouth, putting one pinky up in emphasis. “Tea time.”

Hange put the a cup made of air to her mouth in response. The raised pinky must have done the trick. “Like cups and kettles and shortbread tea time?” She asked.

Levi let out a deep sigh. “That would have been nice.”

“You should have told me! We could have organized one.”

“Really? Under Zeke’s sponsorship?”

“Well we have one more night here so what about after we go to the beach this afternoon. I can call the house have them prepare something---”

“Zeke is paying. I’d rather not…”

“Believe me, he’ll be in a good mood after this.”

Levi raised one eyebrow. “Really? After this?”

“He’s beating Erwin,” Hange said. “And Zeke likes winning if you haven’t noticed.” She stopped on her tracks and leaned back on the tree.

Levi only had to look back at the chess matches and the mahjong matches to see the truth in Hange’s explanation. “How’s your score?”

Hange pulled out her scorecard and handed it to him. His first instinct was to stare once again at the par numbers below before looking up again at the numbers on top. The view was definitely new to him. His own had been filled with two digit numbers at the top, double or even triple the par. Hange’s scorecard was clean, all one digit numbers, rarely above five. “He’s beating Erwin but he’s not beating me,” she admitted.

Levi only realized a second later that his jaw dropped. He moved to close his mouth. Zeke had been loud, his presence glaring. Erwin had been silent but he had given too much unsolicited advice that Levi had watched more closely begrudgingly counting the number of strokes.

Hange though had been silent, she had been focused on hitting the ball and although she had given advice, she had been subtle, she had been soft spoken about it.

Then he remembered the terms. Boogey. Birdy. Eagle. “Zeke told me you got an ‘eagle’”

“Eagle. Two strokes under par. I got one over here,” Hange said, pointing at a three.”And I got some ‘birdies.’” Levi didn’t do his research but the quick deduction that came with staring at the par numbers and Hange’s own numbers just one below par were enough for him to figure it for himself. “So you’ve been playing for a while.”

“I played this course a lot. I’d go alone when Zeke’s busy,” Hange said. “Sometimes when we’re back in the city, I’d go to the driving range to---”

“To let off some steam.”

Hange nodded. “Well Zeke spends a lot of time working, thinking about investments, stocks…. And Married life gets stressful. Sometimes, it gets surprisingly lonely.”

“You have your own thing going on though right? You have research, investments…”

“Definitely, but I can’t even count the number of times Zeke takes me here, only to ditch for a meeting or another emergency,” Hange said. “So it’s nice to be here with other people. Thanks for coming,” she added, her voice much softer than a while ago.

“Thanks for being patient with a newbie.”

Hange put her hands up in surprise. “No, I’m happy to be playing here,” she said. “You know, the many times Zeke and I played this course together, he never went this route for the final hole.”

“Have you?” Levi asked.

By the way Hange was navigating just a little too confidently, Levi realized he didn’t need a verbal answer.

Hange was still kind enough to supply one. “I told you right? I played this course too many times to count…” She walked ahead. “Our balls went to the same area, past the forest and you’ll see at the end of this why Zeke refuses to play here.”

Levi continued to follow, pushing leaves, branches and undergrowth back when necessary. The way the branches had given way to a glistening blue had been an almost breathtaking site.

“If your ball gets stuck in the forest, then you can’t usually go full swing to get it out. But if you swing too weakly, the ball will fall into the lake,” Hange explained. “And you waste a stroke. And a really good ball.”

“If it falls in?”

“We use a provisional ball and we get a stroke penalty. And of course, we lose the ball.” Hange answered. “I’ve lost enough balls here.”

“And Zeke never tried this path?”

“Zeke likes winning,” Hange said, her tone as deadpan as it was the first time she said it. “But the way he goes about winning is like...He’s always been smart about it, always playing safe. And it’s not just in games. He has always approached life like that. His investments are always blue chip, commodities, healthcare. Things which would never fail. And if you’ve seen how he plays, he’ll never go for something risky, like this.” Hange held her hands wide in front of her in emphasis. “He’ll skirt around the forest, even if it takes him an extra two strokes.”

“A conservative husband. At least you know you’ll never go hungry.” That response had been automatic. He had been a little too playful then, trying to elicit a reaction from the already frustrated looking Hange.

Hange let out a grand sigh, something that could have been a scream if she put more voice into it. “Yeah and you’re just as conservative as he is.”

“Am I?” Levi raised one eyebrow, a challenge at that one comment. On the inside though, maybe he was slightly insulted.

Hange didn’t notice it. She probably hadn’t even heard him. She dropped the golf bag and walked ahead towards the edge of the lake. “I found one of our golf balls!” She waved one hand back at him, too giddily that Levi was tempted to walk on ahead, just stopping where the sand started to soak up the water.

“We’re still in the game, Levi.” Hange said, a toothy grin clambered up her cheeks.

No. Levi thought to himself. Those words never made it to his lips. Or maybe it did, just as something else.“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Hange had bent down and started unlacing her shoes. “Why?”

“Why are you gonna get yourself dirty? You can just use a provisional ball and you can just go around the lake.”

Hange took a break from unlacing her shoes, and put a hand up in front of him as if to say ‘case in point.’ “Conservative.”

“Why, what’s wrong with conservative?”

In a begrudgingly effective response, Hange wildly kicked off one shoe and it flew just a good few inches from the banks. “I told you yesterday, games teach things right?”

And sometimes they expose parts of ourselves. Levi completed that last part in his head.

If he had ended up muttering it out loud, Hange probably didn’t hear it. “ Games are problems that need to be solved,” she started. “And life is the same way, stocked with problems, or maybe it’s a constant problem that needs to be navigated and solved right?”

Levi didn’t respond. Hange didn’t seem to be looking for a response either and she continued to speak. “People will always master their commonly used thinking processes and problem solving processes and they rely too easily on them. Zeke and his stocks. Zeke and his business ventures. And Levi Ackerman and his programming,” She cocked her head back and looked at him, her expression a big ham. She kicked her other shoe to the other side.

“What about my programming?” Levi asked.

“Oh a user interface problem? It’s a front end issue. Oh it’s a problem with the server data? It’s a back end issue.” For that moment, Hange had changed her tone, her verbal tics, and Levi could only come up with one conclusion: she was mocking him.

He was sure he didn’t sound like that though. “I didn’t know you understood coding.”

“I don’t,” Hange said. “But I did my research because we’re gonna be working together right? Anyway, the point is, sure, you’re an efficient thinker that way. Everyone is an efficient thinker when they’re thinking in shortcuts and clearcut processes. Don't you think people lose a lot of opportunities to learn something a little more life changing, to achieve something more when they stick to all these strict processes?” Hange grabbed one of the more rounded clubs from her bag. “By the way, this is a driver,” she said.

A driver, a golf club used for long distance hits. Levi at least remembered that much from researching. “I knew that.”

“Well, I thought I might as well give you a few lessons. We’re gonna be working together so I thought I’d tell you how I like to work, Levi.” Hange cocked her head back and smiled. “When we look into this application, you might find a bug. But I asked you… what if it’s working as expected? What if it’s a matter of flawed data?”

“That’s what we’ll be investigating right?”

“But I don’t wanna start this investigation with assumptions. We’re creating an extension of your application, we’re gonna be breaking down the application to data, sensations and feelings. I feel like we’ll be able to do a better job at finding the ‘bug’ if we keep an open mind about it. So I want us to ask and answer questions we were scared to even probe,” Hange said. She stepped into the water, driver in hand.

Levi could only watch, starting from the bottom, watching as her pants turned a darker shade of blue, as the water creeped up her hastily and shoddily folded cuffs.

“Questions like?” Levi already had the question, tucked in his mind. He wasn’t the one married. He wasn’t the one with the billionaire husband. That wasn’t his question to ask.

Fortunately, Hange had been eager to probe. “What if we’re just attracted to each other? As simple as that. What if… the love alarm is just telling us, we really could get along?”

It was the easiest answer and somehow, such an admission had Levi admiring everything at once. The sun after the rain was brightest, it reflected the water in various ways, emitting too many colors at once.

And Hange was in the middle of it all. The sun, the gleaming water had done their job to make her just a little too iridescent, a feast for even his eyes.

His eyes still had a conscience though. “Don’t you wanna figure out why it didn’t ring with Zeke?”

Hange shrugged. “I am curious… but really, love is a complex thing. Why would I let an application tell me who I love or don’t love? No matter how the application rings, it wouldn’t change how I feel about Zeke.”

Hange turned her back on him then and Levi was at least grateful he had that one second to let out a hitched breath. “Then I guess, you really know how to love, Hange,” he whispered, mostly for himself and maybe, in the infinitesimally small chance Hange was listening.

She had gone deeper into the water, the water starting to tickle at her shins. She stopped, positioning her club just a little into the water. Wish me luck. She mouthed.

And everything went quickly after that. One flick of the wrist, a splash of water, a lot of mud. Levi didn’t even have time to watch the ball fly. Maybe because he had been watching the bluish drops, the brown drops hovering in the air and Hange in the middle of it all for a few split seconds longer.

Everything suddenly slowed down when he was looking at the minute details, when he was watching how the drops of water flew high enough to smack lightly at her face, how the grime practically slapped at her neck and the way the drops of water and mud hung heavy on her shirt, down to her bottoms.

She wasn’t looking back yet. She put a hand to her forehead as if they were a pair of binoculars only she knew how to use. She let out a cheer, a howl in amazement as if she was the one who didn’t just send a ball flying from the water. “ I think the ball made it to the green,” she said

She turned back at him so excitedly that the water continued to splash.

Levi instinctively stepped back. “You’re a fucking mess. It’s disgusting.” He was sure he had sounded a little abrasive.

Hange’s smile wasn’t falling though. “Then why are you smiling?”

“Am I?” Levi asked. The smile tugged at his lips and he wasn’t compelled at all to resist.

He declared it Hange’s win. Besides, maybe she was right. Maybe they could really get along.

***

There was an albatross pecking by the sand, only a few feet from Levi. It was an ugly bird, the beak too long, too crooked and when it stared at him with its deep black eyes, Levi could have sworn it was peering into his soul.

It was mildly terrifying but still, Levi continued to stare just to make sure the few seconds of googling an albatross, and his own natural instinct were correct. That it was an albatross.

“Why are you staring at the bird?” It was a cold yet seemingly innocent question. It was just like his direct superior though to have him so self conscious over one simple action with just one question.

“It’s an albatross,” Levi answered, only realizing a second later he hadn’t answered the question.

Or maybe that was the answer to the question. “So a small game of golf was enough to have you interested in birds.”

“I just did some research on albatrosses after the game."

"Is this about Hange?"

"Zeke was screaming about an albatross during the game,” Levi said.

“Albatross, three strokes below par. Hange got that par-six hole in three strokes,” Erwin explained.

“Yeah, she did.”

“So it is about Hange.”

Levi didn’t say anything, instead, focusing on the conglomeration of unpleasant sensations bombarding him. He shifted his knees, and his bottom, letting the beach blanket bristle from underneath him. Just a little hyper aware then, he picked out the grains of sand rising as little bumps, digging into him.

When he held his chin high, instead of focusing on the ground underneath, he still couldn’t shift himself into something perfectly agreeable. The sticky air, the sour, flaky scent that lingered there were unshakeable discomforts. Levi could have sworn that although he hadn’t even gone near enough to the ocean to get wet, the humid ocean air would still find a way to leave him wet and sticky.

“What do you think of her?” Erwin asked.

“Think of who?”

“Hange.”

Erwin’s question had been enough to pull Levi from his quick trance of running through all the downsides of the beach trip. Those downsides were quickly replaced by another discomfort. Suddenly, Levi was uncomfortable inside and out. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well, you’re gonna be working close to her so I just wanted to make sure you two were compatible.”

Compatible. That word had Levi coughing out the ocean air. “Well our love alarms rang so maybe that means we could get along, work efficiently together.”

“Just don’t get Zeke angry,” Erwin said.

“Why would I do that?”

“Keep him in a good mood.”

But were Zeke's good moods even predictable? “Well, Hange is his partner and he seems particularly happy when she's around,” Levi said.

“He was in a good mood today, particularly after a match, spent a good few minutes talking about how you lost your ball.”

Levi never did find the ball that flew into the forest. Although he had a provisional and he could have played on, somehow following Hange’s own play had been much more entertaining. “Hange told me he likes winning,” Levi said.

“Particularly against you,” Erwin noted, one eyebrow raised.“You know, when Hange followed you into the woods, he seemed like he was in a bad mood for a while there.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Zeke is an important customer, an important opportunity for this application and I want to make sure he’s happy with his investment.”

“Yes, Hange and I will work on a good product.”

“It’s not just that,” Erwin said. “With the amount of money Zeke is putting into this product, try to keep this in mind, if he wants something, he gets it. Don’t make him want to pull out the money.”

Erwin was dancing around definitions for sure. He was emphasizing words, dropping hints and he was staring at Levi like there was something else he had wanted to say but was stopping himself.

If Zeke wants something, he gets it. Erwin had mentioned.

He was a reasonable man though so it didn’t seem too radical of a decision for Levi to amend the statement on his end. If Zeke wants something within reason, he gets it.

All he had to do was keep Zeke happy. A hauntingly difficult task especially when the blonde had proved to be incredibly disagreeable the few times he had known him.

Don't you think people lose a lot of opportunities to learn something a little more life changing, to achieve something more when they stick to all these strict processes?

Then he was reminded, pleasing Zeke didn’t have to be a strict process of sucking up to him. Levi was starting to see it for himself when the conversation deadened into nothing, save for the squawk of the ocean birds and the splash of the waves on the shore.

When there was nothing more to discuss, Erwin fell back on his beach blanket. Within a few minutes, he was silent. Levi wasn’t as tired. He probably would have fallen asleep though if the two figures at the distance hadn’t caught his eye.

One blonde, one brunette. He only needed the height difference, the familiar colored bathing suits from a while ago to figure out for himself who they were.

Hange was much easier to pick out. The enthusiasm, the inquisitiveness he had gotten used to overtime was apparent in the way she managed to scurry across the shores before falling thigh deep into the water. She was pointing at something under.

From next to her, Zeke dove to get it, pulling out a large shell. Then they were talking. Hange held the shell in her hand, raised it up to the sky.

It could have been gleaming, glittering. Levi was too far to tell. By the way, Hange waves her hands up before holding it in front of Zeke, Levi was sure it was beautiful.

A few minutes may have passed of just watching the couple trudge through hip deep water.

The peaceful moment was abruptly interrupted by a man in a beach polo and board shorts, running towards the shore, one hand held high. “Mr. Jaeger! Someone from the board of directors of…” He continued to talk, to shout. He was running as he spoke and Levi never picked up the last few parts of that conversation.

That wasn’t his business anyway. There were more important things though, more fitting of the name “his business.”

Like the way Hange’s mouth dropped, perceptible despite the distance between them. The way she had slowed down to a stop, shell still in hand.

They made it back to the shallower part of the beach together only separating after one kiss to Hange’s forehead. Zeke went ahead in land, seeming particularly restless.

And Hange? She sat down at the edge of the shore, where the water was still deep enough to cover her feet. She pulled her legs to her chest, held them close. The shell lay forgotten on her side.

By the time Levi was close enough to see it, the shell had disappeared, most likely taken back by the ocean. “Hey, was there something you wanted to see?”

Pleasing Zeke didn’t have to be a strict process. It didn’t have to be the strict daunting process of sucking up to a disagreeable man. He concluded that for himself when he allowed the burst of energy to wash through him then, when Hange looked up at him, a wide grin decorating her lips.

Someone was precious to Zeke. It was very much apparent back in the pool, back in the golf course and then and there, on the shores.

And if I make her happy, by extension, I make Zeke happy right?

“Zeke and I were planning on checking out the albatross colony, just over there past that rock,” Hange said. “There are usually seagulls at this time of year too.”

“I can come with you.”

Hange’s eyes widened. “Really? You didn’t seem excited when I mentioned the ocean yesterday.”

Levi had been polite. “Did I seem not excited?”

“Well, you wrinkled your nose like this.” Hange made a ridiculous face, crossing her eyes, raising her nose a little too high, Levi could have sworn he had never made that expression that in his life. Hange continued. "And when we arrived, you stayed as far away as you could and you had that same face.

Levi didn’t have much control of his expressions and maybe he was a little too unsure. The water was deep enough to eat at his feet but still shallow enough that Levi had full control of his movements.

The ocean was dirty, disgusting. It was a confluence of biological waste. But the ocean had Hange. The ocean made Hange happy.

Suddenly, Levi was self conscious of his own expression then. Just in case, he pulled his mouth up to a subtle smile, making a conscious effort to soften his expression. In the end, it hadn’t been too much of a feat.

Hange’s own smile, her wide eyes had made everything all the easier. “You wanna see the albatross colonies?” she asked.

“Sure, We don’t come here often anyway.”

“You’ll definitely not get this back in the city. The magic about this island is… there’s not a lot of beachgoers so we’re able to preserve a lot of nature.” Hange walked ahead, looking back only long enough to grip his hand.

She walked further into the ocean and the wind could have gotten stronger. It whipped at her damp hair, blowing it in all directions at once. The fishy smell of the ocean rode with the wind and Levi found himself blinking hard a few times while willing himself to move forward.

Hange was moving faster than Levi ever had been. She was more than a few feet away already and the distance between them was only getting wider and wider.

He could have been distracted or maybe he had just been convinced that if he walked on, he would eventually catch up to her. He didn’t pay heed to the water that smacked at his chest, until he had to taste it. Not until he had to flail his hands just to keep moving forward, against the current.

“Hange!” By the time, he had thought it necessary to call out, Hange was too far. For sure, she didn’t hear him. Levi was starting to question himself though. How could she hear him when there was a wall of water between them? How could she hear him when water was finding its way into his mouth every single time he had attempted to call out?

He was starting to find it difficult to even open his mouth. He was finding it difficult to kick, to flail his arms. HIs chest was screaming. The few moments he tried to open his eyes, to take stock of the situation, he was met with a stinging pain.

A few times, he tried to kick up ahead to the surface. Once or twice, he had opened his eyes despite the stinging pain, long enough to see the sky above him.

Was he drowning? He was drowning in the world’s bathroom, a conglomeration of shit and piss. It was a horrible way to go out and as much as possible, he would have wanted to go out in other less disgusting ways. So Levi continued to flail towards the top, kicking from underneath. He continued to scream, or at least attempt to scream past the bombardment of seawater that made it past his mouth and to his lungs.

The ocean smelled fear. Maybe it smelled disgust. It continued to advance towards him. Any reprieve Levi managed to find, any attempt to stay a float, back first on the surface was met with waves lapping at him, riptides dragging him from all directions at once.

Levi!

Was it Hange? Or was it the ocean? When everything came accompanied by whooshes, gurgles and bubbling, Levi never could be too sure.

Still, he continued to kick. He continued to wave his arms, until his lungs let out their last cry. Until all sensations whittled to unknowns.

And all he could see was darkness.

***

Hey, can you hear me?

The ocean had been warm, so warm that Levi didn’t even know his insides were cold until air filled his mouth, whizzing down his throat. Awareness came like a flicker then two many lights at once.

And in the middle of it all, it could have been Hange. He liked to think it was Hange. Her damp hair were tendrils that caressed at his neck, her voice drumming yet faint.

Hey, hey, can you see me? Blink twice if you can.

Levi wasn’t in control of his body. He didn’t think too much of it though, he had a good view right in front of him, albeit a little blurry.

Stop moving. Although he couldn’t say it out loud, he was sure he said it loud enough in his mind. Still, something was shaking him, his vision was topsy turvy, the lights continued to move left and right, then up and down in some pattern he couldn’t even comprehend.

The lights were bright, dizzying. Instinctively Levi shut his eyes. In the darkness that followed, maybe he lost track of time, of some sort of rhythm without the lights to guide him. The familiar sensation came as something abrupt. He noticed the contours first, the lines that brushed against his own lips, settling on his upper lip, then just a little bit above his jaw.

Then he tasted them. They were salty and they brought with it more surprises. More air that brushed past the walls of his mouth, to the back of his throat then they washed down to his lungs. More air. And they did their job to aggravate whatever other unwelcome concoctions had settled in his airway

Awareness had come like a flicker. Consciousness came as a slap in his face, then everything at once. There was a pain in his chest, from the shaking.

His view was a dark yet glistening blue. The ocean? But how long had he been staring at the ocean. He could have sworn that he was watching Hange just a while ago.

“Just let it out Levi.” Her voice was grating. And Levi wondered why he was even looked at her. Everything hurt at once, and when Levi stared at the water, the notable puddle just next to him, comprehension washed over him, first as a flicker, a slap in the face then a large wall of water, a monster in the sea.

He could have been drowning again.

What the fuck. It would have been nice to be able let out a taut swear. After all, when he was barely moving, the aches and pains bunched up inside him. Everything came out as a gurgle, then more salt water.

“You almost drowned out there,” Hange said, an attempt at comforting for sure. Levi wasn’t at all comforted though.

Not by her voice at least. Something was caressing at his neck, pushing his hair behind his ear. It took him a few seconds longer, and a soft motion guiding his head back up, back to looking straight up at the sky, for Levi to put two and two together.

The sky was the background. Hange was the centerpiece. A centerpiece of relief and exhaustion, framed by hair much damper. Those were enough hints.

You saved me? He had tried to mouth it.

Whether Hange had heard it or not, he couldn’t do much to assume but he focused on the way she licked her lips, the way she bit them before settling for a weak smile. He focused on the way the lines on her lips stuck out a little more when dry.

And it just had been a little easier to recall them right on top of his.

So you did save me. He couldn’t spare much words but he did manage to spare a smile.

Hange didn’t return it. By the time Levi was confident enough to have sworn he was smiling, Hange had already looked away. “He’s responsive,” she said, her voice more distant than a second ago.

“Hange, let a professional take over.” Zeke’s voice penetrated into that tiny world that had been just the both of them.

“You have to be careful, I might have bruised a few ribs.” Suddenly, Hange’s voice was getting softer and softer.

As if Zeke had intruded just to pull her out. He sought solace in the fact that she was Zeke’s after all. That was only the expected outcome.

For a while all he saw was blue sky. Then unfamiliar faces. Then others were asking questions. Way too many questions. It was just a little too overwhelming that Levi could only force his eyelids shut.

He let the darkness take over, then his other four senses. Then soon, he could have been dreaming again. The contours, the dry scabby lines at his upper lip, at his lower lip, brushing just a little lower. He was certain, in those split second long moments, her lips were on his.

Soft but chapped. Salty but sweet. Maybe he spared a few seconds, a few glimmers of scarce energy to lick at his lips just to taste it again.

Reason bared its fangs. She did it to save your life. She’s married. He scolded himself.

Soon, he was barely aware of anything but blackness. And the salty and sweet, the soft and dry danced for a little longer in his dreams.

Still, a part of him continued to whisper. Not in your wildest dreams.

“Not in your wildest dreams, Levi.” A soft mutter only he could have heard. It was only for him anyway since he needed to hear it himself to believe it.

[tsukikento]

Too Fast For Your Own Good Part 1

(part 2) (part 3)

Pairing: Takami Keigo (Hawks x Reader)

Words: 4814

Summary: Soulmate!AU - the first words your soulmate says to you is written on your body in ink.

Genre/Warnings: Nothing? Fluff maybe?

A/N: I got carried away and this got too long so now it’s two parts! Hahaha oops sorry. Anyways, pls enjoy I spent hella time on this! Also posted on my ao3 @ allie_win

When Takami Keigo turned 13, a small tattoo formed on his back, just between his wings. 

The first thing he remembers was the burning sensation he felt in the middle of the night. He remembers yelping from the pain, turning on the light, and looking in the mirror to see what it was. 

Takami was worried that something was happening to his wings, but he was relieved to see that it was his soulmate mark, something he completely forgot about. 

I know I am.

Takami spent that night staring at the marking, admiring the way they curved around his wings. Finally, he had the promise of love.

The next day, Takami came to training sleep-deprived yet still shining happily. He remembers telling a man at the company about it, only for him to brush it off by saying, “Don’t think about your soulmate mark, you will be a hero with no time for romance.”

After that, Takami did not anticipate the meeting of his soulmate. Those words got Takami through a lot of tough situations. They pathed the way for his personality to form.

~~

When Y/L/N Y/N turned 13, a small tattoo formed on your back, just between your shoulder blades.

The burning sensation that you woke up to in the middle of the night scared you so much that you accidentally stopped time. The colorful world turned gray and you took this chance to turn on the lights and check the new mark.

Your parents expected this and preemptively explained the situation to you. They did not, however, describe the pain you were currently feeling.

You spent as much time as you could looking at the words on your back before turning off the lights, getting back into bed, and letting time once again flow without immediate interruptions.

So apparently you’re faster than me?

The words didn’t leave your head that night, and your parents also questioned the meaning when they saw it in the morning. 

A thought that frequently crossed your mind was that obviously you were faster than them. You could stop time! Granted, you couldn’t breathe while you were stopping time, which meant you had to spend time training your breathing, but you could currently go a whole minute without feeling your lungs heat up.

The idea of speed eventually made sense when you were signing up to take the entrance exam at U.A. High School. The professor signing you up asked to see your quirk, to which you paused time, moved to stand next to the professor, and started time.

“Wow, teleportation!” The professor complimented.

Although you were about to correct him, he gave you a number and called the next person up, not allowing you to speak. 

Regardless of how many times you tried to correct someone about your quirk, they constantly interrupted you and didn’t listen. Eventually, you gave up, deciding that deception may be the best choice for you.

From there, and into your graduation, you were known as Teleportation Hero: Telethon.

~~ Present Time - Age 20

When you awoke from a deep sleep on your first day off in two weeks, you were greeted by cool air and birds singing on a bright Sunday morning. You yawned, stretched your limbs, and relished in the warm sunshine coming through your windows that juxtaposed the wind passing by your exposed leg.

Today, you had plans. Relaxation plans specifically. A Swedish massage and celebrity-scale facial were waiting to meet you at your 2 pm appointment today, giving you ample time to eat and get ready. You had been anticipating this appointment for the past month, allowing the excitement to push you through the tough and tireless month you had faced. 

What made this appointment all the more worth it was the effort you put into yesterday’s mission. An earthquake villain appeared in the city and sent down multiple buildings in their wake. The entire situation was incredibly tiring, from the hours spent stopping time and carrying people out of buildings to the paperwork you filled out till midnight yesterday.

You turned onto your side and grabbed your phone off the side table.

You had a few push notifications from various apps as well as a couple texts from your friend, Kaoruko Awata, regarding the dinner plans you both had and your boss Edgeshot, wishing you a good day off. You smiled at the text and responded before putting your phone away. You would love to spend time responding to fans, but you wanted to use less time on your phone today, choosing to focus more on life and nature.

Eventually, you made your way out of bed and got dressed in some exercise clothes. Your stomach was growling at this point, and you were really craving some waffles and a cup of coffee.

Once done cooking, you turned on the television and reached across your coffee table to grab your coffee and felt your muscles ache, reminding you once again of the day previous.

You got the call seconds after the earthquake, and you immediately rushed over. 

Multiple buildings were crumbling down, some were ablaze in wild, red and yellow fires. Heroes were scattered across the scene, all rushing around to help the hundreds of civilians harmed. Some flew through the sky, others working to stop the fires. You didn’t spend much time taking in the scene, opting to begin the rescue mission; you of all people knew the importance of time.

The world thought you could effortlessly transport people from location to location. Opposingly, the process of saving people was rather tedious. You knew the importance of this mission, and you spent as much time as you could in the gray and frozen world you effortlessly created, but you still had to hold your title as Teleportation Hero. At this point, if the world found out you were lying about your quirk, they wouldn’t be able to trust you.

Oh, the hole you had dug yourself was deep and there was no one to help you out of it.

Around 12 pm, you finished your food, turned off the television and pulled out the book you were currently reading. With your busy schedule, you had very little time to read, but your New Year's Resolution was to read more, and this was one of the few days you could stick to that goal.

Regardless of the interesting story, you found yourself drifting back to yesterday’s events.

You had arrived so quickly to the scene that you had no communication earpieces set up and ended up stopping a healing hero to hear about the ongoing battle. 

“You okay?” The healing hero asked first and foremost, ignoring your question.

“Just quirk overuse,” You breathlessly replied. “How is everything going?” You asked again.

“Good, but it’s a slow process,” They replied. The healing hero grabbed a few serums off their belt and mixed them together in a small bottle. “The villain isn’t caught yet, but apparently they are narrowing in on him. He’s on the run right now.”

You nodded in response, silently praying that they catch him to ensure that no one else was hurt. 

“Here, drink this. It’ll give you a burst of energy,” The healing hero said while holding out a vile of blue liquid.

“Thanks,” You replied and immediately downed the shot. It burned down your throat and you felt the energy immediately rush through. It was definitely increasing your adrenaline. You handed the healing hero the bottle back and stopped time to rush into a new building. 

When you realized you had been daydreaming instead of focusing on the story, you silently scolded yourself and grabbed a cup of water to clear your head. You saw the clock read 1 pm, and you decided to get ready now instead of being perpetually late like usual.

You fondly reminded yourself how lucky you were to have a time manipulation quirk that helped counteract your horrible habit of being late.

~~

You ended up finishing the entire process of your massage and facial appointment around 5 pm, giving you less than two hours before your dinner date with Awata. The plan was for her to come over around 6:30, with food in hand, she had just texted you 5 restaurant options for you to judge. You lazed around your house as you looked up each restaurant’s menu and selected your top 2.

From your two, Awata ended up choosing the pizza place and told you that she would call to order right away. About 20 minutes later, you got a text from Awata letting you know that she was on her way.

You replied and went into the kitchen to grab out plates for the pizza. You downed the rest of the water you had been sipping periodically and walked across your small studio apartment to change into a more appropriate outfit than the one you had worn to your appointment.

Once in a comfortable yet surprisingly cute outfit, you moved back into your living room to wait for your friend. It was so uncommon that you got a whole day off without any training or any extra errands to run for work and you were going to utilize every second of rest. You laid down on your couch and quickly got lost in your thoughts.

Your mind wandered to Awata, reflecting on your great friendship with her. Although she was incredibly quiet and soft-spoken, she had the true heart of a hero and craved helping people. Not only that, but she had slowly been getting funnier and funnier due to her job at Sir Nighteye’s office.

You still remembered the smile on her face when she told you that she got the job with a silly joke.

Around 6:30, Awata texted you to buzz her up, and by the time she got upstairs, you had moved the plates and two full cups of water to the coffee table. You got up from your couch at the sound of a knock at your door.

“Hey, Ms. Hero Allstar,” Awata said as she waltzed into your condo with two personal-sized pizzas. “So, what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” You mumbled, more focused on the steaming pizza that was being handed to you. You both were already drooling at the prospect of gooey cheese and carbs.

“Being so famous!” Your friend yelled as she took on her shoes before plopping down on your love seat.

You scoffed at her comment and rolled your eyes before opening up your pizza, “I’m not even in the top 2,000 heroes.” You grabbed a slice and moved it onto your plate.

“Not after today,” Awata replied, as she joined you in opening up her own pizza.

You looked up at your friend with a confused face, not able to reply because your mouth was filled with pizza.

“Wait, do you really not know?” Awata asked. She reached over and grabbed your television remote, switching it onto a local news station.

The image of two anchors came onto the screen. The view of them quickly switched away to a video of the wreckage from today. “They saved a total of 137 civilians in the span of only two hours. Additionally, no additional damage was caused in the process. This success skyrocketed Telethon to top charts online.”

The screen cut to a scene of you using your quirk to grab multiple people in only a few seconds. You gawked and looked over to your friend. 

“It was truly impressive, but what can you expect from a member of Edgeshot’s agency” The female anchor spoke as the screen cut back to them.

“It is,” The male agreed. “In fact, we have some quotes from yesterday about the situation.”

The healing hero from before popped onto screen. “I worked with Telethon for only a moment today, giving them one of my serums to help give them the energy needed to save people. I feel honored I got to be a part of this record-breaking defeat.”

The screen cut to a young boy, possibly 12 years old.

“Telethon was so cool yesterday!” Their face was bright and it warmed your heart to see their support. “Not only were they fast, but they were fast for hours! That’s endurance! Most speed heroes don’t have that, they might even be faster than Hawks!”

The screen cut back to the chuckling anchors and you looked over to your friend as they talked about the multiple videos circling the internet that almost all had millions of views.

“Holy shit.”

Awata nodded excitedly. “I know.” Although quiet, she could get just as excited as you during great events. She was smiling wider than you were right now.

If you were in your right mind, you might have noticed the correlation between the speed comment, Hawks, and your soulmate mark. However, you were too excited about this new fame to even think about it.

The rest of your night was spent celebrating with Awata, both of you having a few drinks and stuffing your faces with indulgent American-style barbecue.

~~

As weeks passed, the fame for you continued to rise. Your rating approval shot through the roof and you were being stopped more often to give autographs and take photos.

Not only had your fame been rising, but so had the idea of you being faster than Hawks. Although you admired Hawks, you kept away from the drama, opting to focus more on improving your skills to meet the new expectations you were being given.

~~

After about a month of this challenge circulating, Hawks couldn’t help but make a comment. He was so much more popular and powerful than this wannabe, and no one was going to stop him from being the fastest hero. He was being bombarded daily for a comment about the speculation of someone being faster than him. Not only did he hate the attention, but he hated how the doubt of his strengths got to him.

One day, when paparazzi were surrounding him and pestering him about the challenge, he snapped and shouted into the camera.

“There is no way Telethon is faster than me and I will prove it! This is my official challenge for them to come out of hiding and actually race me!” He looked straight into the camera and spoke eerily calm, “I am too fast for my own good.”

~~

You still remembered the fear you felt when you watched the clip on the internet only a few hours after it went viral.

You will admit that you made a connection between your soulmate mark and Hawks’ words at the time, but you brushed them off. Too often were you disappointed after talking to a cute boy that you had been admiring. 

It’s not like you could focus on relationships as a hero anyways.

~~

The next day, your manager told you that he contacted Hawks’ manager and arranged an obstacle race for that Friday.

“It will be great PR,” They claimed, “Even if you don’t win!”

You reluctantly agreed, not like you had much of a choice, and awaited the email that would contain everything you needed to know from the time and date to the price of tickets.

The prospect made you incredibly afraid. To you, the debating of who was faster was more fun than anything. The idea of having to prove yourself was driving you crazy.

What if you couldn’t hold your breath long enough? What if Hawks was so fast that he beat you before you could even stop time?

You sighed and leaned farther back into your soft couch, wishing that the cushions would swallow you up. Maybe this was all a dream and a nice nap would wake you up?

You bit your lip and read through the email, your thoughts drifting off periodically. 

~~

Over the next couple days, you worked privately at expanding your air capacity. Your manager wasn’t allowed to tell you anything about the course, so you had to work hard to perfect your breathing and your speed.

You laid down on the floor of the gym, no one was there because of how late it was. 

Your mind got lost in the thought of how you could technically even win a speed race. Sure you would have to run through everything, but to everyone else, it would just look like you were flashing from one place to the next.

A few years back, you met someone else with a teleportation quirk. They described it as flashing place to place, although they were restricted to only moving about 15 meters. You always thought of your quirk as a time stopping quirk rather than teleportation, but it did help you in battles that people just thought it was teleportation.

Grunting, you got up from your spot on the ground and got back on the treadmill. You stopped time and continued to run for as long as you could, dreading the competition tomorrow.

~~

You woke up to your alarm, the sky was gray and a chilly air flooded through your room, making you cling to your blankets. You heard the sound of rain outside and groaned. You checked your phone, but were too tired to respond to any texts you had received that day.

You got out of bed, your muscles aching and started preparing an ice bath. You hated ice baths more than anything else in the world, but they still dramatically helped your aching muscles. As you stepped into the freezing cold water, you tried your best not to focus on how much it hurt to sit in an ice bath.

After only a couple minutes, you practically jumped out of the water, deciding that you had been in their long enough. You wrapped your body in a towel and started drying off as you made your way to your room. 

You threw on a sweater and sweatpants to keep you warm and started stretching your muscles. From there, you grabbed yourself a freshly brewed cup of coffee and began applying the makeup involved in your hero costume. You made sure to apply a thick foundation and powder to make sure you didn’t appear too greasy in the photos.

You grabbed a snack once done with your makeup and grabbed your bag with any necessities or costume things you would need. Your manager told you to change there so you simply packed everything you would need. 

After double checking that you had everything necessary for the day and competition, you stopped time and casually made your way to the stadium, watching the still rain water in your own gray world.

Luckily, the place wasn’t too far away from your house and you were able to make it there by only needing to start time again a couple of times and take a breath. When you arrived, you were whisked away by your manager who had you immediately get dressed. You then had a couple people fix up your makeup and style your hair.

As this was done, your manager informed you that you would be starting the day with an interview, yours being right after Hawks’. He told you a couple questions they were going to ask and steered you to answer in certain ways.

“We don’t want to give too much away, just make it interesting and fun,” You manager said as the hair and makeup team finished up and left quickly.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and admired the way everything came together before your manager ushered you to the calling curtain. On the other side, you could clearly hear the interview going on between the woman and Hawks.

“So, Hawks, how are you feeling about this whole situation?” The interviewer asked. “You seemed quite angry at all the attention Telethon was getting.”

From your position, there was also a small television that pointed directly at them. You saw the expression of the interviewing as she asked Hawks the question. Her voice was practically dripping with sensuality as she tried to keep Hawks’ attention.

The camera cut to Hawks who was casually sitting back as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Honestly, I wasn’t. I was upset that I was getting attention. I don’t like when paparazzi follow me everywhere.” He looked from the audience to the interviewer and smirked. “I’m happy that Telethon is getting attention, they deserve it. Granted, I wholeheartedly doubt their faster than me.”

“Oh, really?” The lady inquired. You could tell she was reaching for strings to create drama. She leaned forward and you noted how her skirt inched up just slightly

“Well, I am too fast for my own good,” Hawks replied, grinning and waving his hands to prove his point.. “I’m happy that Telethon is gaining attention, they are a great hero. However, no one will ever be faster than me.”

“Well, Hawks, I’ll be looking for you at the finish line then,” The lady smirked at the blond hero.

You groaned at the obvious bias the interviewer had.

“Anyways,” She started, “That’s all the time we have for Hawks. We are going to take a short break and be back with Teleportation Hero: Telethon!”

The audience clapped and Hawks waved goodbye to the crowd before making his way towards the back. In fact, he was making his way towards you. You gulped down the lump in your throat as your manager began making a few more notes in your ear about what to say in the interview.

You looked down as Hawks approached you, too nervous to look up at him. Not only was he the current number two hero, but he was also your maybe soulmate. You hated to dwell on love like so many people nowadays, but the idea that the Takami Keigo could be the love of your life could make anyone nervous. 

He smirked at you as a sound person came up and started taking his mic off of him and putting it onto you.

Your sense of smell was suddenly crowded with a deep musk, that smelled of woodlands and cherries. The smell was airy and delightful and you noted that it had to have been coming from Hawks.

Finally seeing the number two hero up close made you painfully aware of how handsome he was. 

His dirty blonde hair naturally swept back because of how much time he spent flying. His golden skin practically glowed as he smirked down at you, making you all the more self conscious.

Most of all, you couldn’t take your eyes off his wings. You were sure your face was mirroring their crimson color based on how hot you suddenly felt. They looked so soft and beautiful and you felt a strong pull to touch them as if someone was whispering in your ear.

As you felt the mic being clipped onto your hero uniform, you attempted to bring yourself back into reality. You swallowed your nerves and looked up at the smirking hero in front of you. You could tell he was amused at how obviously starstruck you were. Even with his mic off, he seemed to linger for a few moments to watch you, his eyes trailing up and down your body.

It made you all the more nervous.

You watched as his mouth opened, as if he was about to speak. However, you were quickly pushed by your manager as they ushered you onto stage.

“Wave at the fans!” They said as you were pushed through the red curtain.

You focused back on the crowd as the flashing lights filled your vision. You tried your best not to squint and wave at the people around you. You were making your way to the chair and the interviewer that was awaiting you, when you suddenly felt a bit overwhelmed. You took a few deep breaths and tried to calm yourself.

You gingerly sat down in the seat and smiled brightly at the woman in front of you.

After the applause died down, the interviewer became speaking. “Welcome, Telethon, we are happy to see you today.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” You replied. Although annoyed, you could still be nice and spread positivity for your young fans. “As a fairly new hero and not very high ranked hero, it is incredibly surreal to be gaining so much attention and thanks for my work. I keep reminding myself to try my best for all the new fans I’ve gained.”

The audience erupted into applause and you could tell the lady was a bit annoyed that you were coming off as so nice and humble. You brushed off her attitude, knowing that you were being true to yourself.

Regardless of how you acted in your own life, you were a hero nonetheless and wanted to be a good role model for aspiring heroes.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you’re loving the attention,” The lady, who you still didn’t know the name of, said. “However, do you really think you are faster than the number 2 hero?”

You smiled politely at the woman in front of you, even though you were silently wishing she would be hit by a train. “Actually, I’m here for the challenge. Regardless of whether or not I win, I am always looking for a challenge to better myself and gain new experiences.”

“Oh, so you are just doing this to get close to top heroes like Hawks?” The women interjected, stopping you from further explaining yourself.

“No,” You sternly replied. “Like I said, I personally want new experiences and to keep reaching for ways to become a better hero. For example, I’ve been training for the past two days to prepare, and I know my speed has increased, and I’ll be proud of that even if I don't end up winning.”

The interviewer was practically pouting from your ability to easily recover from her questions meant to stump you. From there, the interviewer asked you a few easier questions, such as one about your employment at Edgeshot’s company.

Eventually, she prompted you to say goodbye to the audience and you politely waved and she asked people to tune in at 4 pm today for the competition.

You waved goodbye as you walked off stage and were immediately meeted by the sound person and your manager.

“That was great,” They cheekily grinned at you, knowing full well how annoyed you were with the rude lady.

“Thanks,” You replied, glad your manager was able to understand you so well. “You mind if I take a breather?”

“Not at all, just be back in half an hour,” He replied, “Your bags are in the green room.”

“Thanks,” You mumbled as you made your way around the building to find the green room. Everyone was rapidly walking around and the whole building was incredibly busy. You groaned and stopped time, using this as a chance to search around a quiet area and find the room.

Not only were you pissed that the interviewer was treating you like a child, but you were ridiculously nervous for the competition. You knew it was supposed to be a casual competition, but Hawks made it seem serious for him. He was the number two hero for god’s sake! If he lost to you, it could ruin his career.

Not only was the moral dilemma of letting Hawks win vs. trying your hardest bothering you, but so was Hawks. In the brief minute you were around him, your body filled with uncertainty and you felt intoxicated on his smell and appearance. Maybe it was you getting caught up in the idea that he may be your soulmate, or maybe it was your body telling you he was.

Regardless of your nerves, you were currently most caught up in anger for the interviewer. You entered the green room, and stared straight at the glorious display of food. You didn’t bother to look around the room as you started time again and groan in frustration.

“So you are just doing this to get close to top heroes,” You mumbled, changing your voice to match how annoying it sounded coming from the interviewer’s mouth. “Like I need it, I’m Edgeshot’s top employee and she would have known that if she did any research before the interview.”

You groaned loudly again and turned to face the couch. No one could explain how flustered you felt when you saw Hawks sitting on the couch, eating a plate of fried chicken. When you met his eyes, you felt his golden eyes bore into his soul.

He adjusted to be sitting up straight and moved to place the plate next to him. He cleared his throat and took a sip of water. You watched him the entire time, too embarrassed to speak.

“So,” He finally began, “apparently you’re faster than me?”

[axel-writes]

The old Gods are dead, chapter one - mobile users

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I noticed I’ve never made a post for this chapter for those who are mainly using the app ^^” So here you go :)

The Mardale forest was a vast, misty and ancient forest. Its canopy was dominated by birches, sycamores, and hawthorn trees, and abundant dancing lights would bounce through their crowns for colourful shrubs to grow in the boulder covered grounds below. A variety of beastly sounds, most of which were fleeing animals, echoed in the air, and formed a chaotic orchestra with the croaks of frogs in the nearby ponds. Silent climbing plants waved from every tree, and a hodgepodge of flowers, which clung to any space they could find, added more life in the otherwise amber forest grounds.

Raven hated the Mardale forest. Through his eyes of an eight years old child, they were walking through a dark and eerie forest in the early morning of that day. The trees were too tall making him dizzy each time he was trying to see their crown and their branches were looking more like arms reaching for his throat than branches. He wanted to go home, far away from here and go back in his bed where he knew he was safe but telling that to his mother now would only upset her more than she already was.

He looked up to his mother. Silver short hair like his covered a bony face with narrow green eyes that were focused on the path before them, determined, her hand tightly closed on his, almost crushing his bones. Freckles were spread across her tawny face and neck, freckles he remembered spending time counting them one after one before going to bed. Her chapped lips once pink, smooth and always smiling were now shut in a tight line, moving and forming words he wasn't paying attention to every now and then. She looked upset with her furrowed brows, he could feel it in the way she was walking faster, and faster, turning left and right walking even further from the path Raven knew they had to keep on following. Her mother and father were always reminding him to never leave the path, why doing it today?

"Mama? Where are we going?"

"Picking blackberries, remember?" She said without looking at him, her voice showing no emotion. "We must pick enough to sell them on the market and buy food. Hurry now, we're soon there."

They had thought that living near the royal capital, Vaneria, would make their life better, they had thought they would find a way out of poverty. But none of what they had wished for happened. His father was always out during the day and would only come back late in the nigh with only bad news and a gloomy face. His mother even had had to cut her beautiful long hair and sell them for a good price as silver was a rare shade of hair in the whole country. But it hadn't been enough. And then came a day Raven had learned to hate, a day something awoke in him. Something terrifying.

It had happened overnight, without warning, without giving them time to adjust to the situation.

Like every other day, Raven had been helping his mother with chores around the house, helping her fetch clear water from their well. He had then dragged the bucket with his tiny hands back to their house while being careful to not drop water on the ground. Water was scarce in some areas of Obreau, especially in Kilead, their hometown and they had been lucky enough to have a well. It was their little treasure. Raven had put the bucket on the small table just beside the fireplace, his hands flat on each side of it, his hazel eyes focused on the tiny waves.

He had felt something warm flow through his veins and tickle his fingertips as he was watching the water dance. The sounds around him were distant, he could barely hear the birds singing outside, or even the crackling fire. He was focused on the water inside the bucket which was now whirling slowly, then even more quickly when it started to boil.

"Raven?" His mother called him while getting down the ladder leading to his room, a broom in hand. "What are you doing, sweetheart?" He didn't answer. She walked to him, then placed a hand on his shoulder, before caressing the back of his neck. She frowned when Raven didn't move, nor laugh. He was ticklish there, he should have reacted.

She turned him around and couldn't help a scream to cross her lips. His eyes were rolling into the back of his head and tiny black dots looking like constellations were on his shoulders. When she was a little girl, she had heard many stories about people like that. They could use abilities they would call 'magic', some could control the elements, other could wiped away a thought by a single touch on someone's forehead, other could manifest their powers as blue flames or sparks at their fingertips. Those stories her mother and father would tell her had always scared her. How could the gods allow beings like them to live in Obreau? Were they their punishment? Did Obrean people anger the gods? And why was it happening to her son? Raven was her only child, she had loved him like every mother should, was raising him as well as she could despite their poverty. What could she have done wrong so that the gods would hate her that much and give her a monster for son?

When Raven had finally come back to his senses, he didn't understand why his mother was crying, huddled up on herself, screaming at him to stay away from her. He couldn't understand why the bucket was now empty.

Later that day, he heard them talk about him while he was supposed to be sleeping. He heard them call him 'monster', he heard them say they would have to find a solution, heard them say they couldn't live like that with fear gnawing them from the inside. It could happen again, he could do something worse, hurt them. They didn't talk to him for days and only watched his every movement in case one of his 'absence' would happen again. They didn't talk to him until that morning when they told him a walk through the forest to go pick some fruits would be a good start for the day.

"How lucky we are," she said without even looking at him. "They're full. Stay here, I forgot to bring a bucket. Don't move from here, your father will come soon. Don't move, you hear me?"

"Mama, you're scaring me," Small tears were running on his cheeks as she turned her back on him, walking further from him.

'Don't move!' was the only thing he heard from her before he couldn't see her shape anymore.

Raven started to pick some blackberries, putting them in his shirt and his pockets knowing they would be mad if he'd done nothing while they were gone. He didn’t know how long they would take to come back and hoped with all his heart that he wouldn’t have to stay alone here for a long time. Hearing the wind through the leaves was scary, seeing the bushes move from the corner of his eyes was terrifying. Anything could come out of there and jump on him. Maybe it only was a rabbit, or maybe it was a wolf patiently waiting for the right moment. Waiting for the right moment to jump on him and bite his throat. No one would be there to help him. He would die alone in a forest he hated.

Raven couldn’t tell how many minutes, hours, went by before the thought of his parents never coming back crossed his mind. He should have known it, their behaviour towards him should have warned him. Since that incident with the bucket, his mother had stopped telling him bedtime stories, she had stopped taking him to the market with her. She had stopped telling him how much she loved her little boy, had stopped hugging him. It wasn’t different with his father. Each time he was in the same room as his father, each time he was meeting his eyes, Raven could see them glisten with sadness, disgust, fear. The words he was saying to him when he would finally talk to his son weren’t ones a father should say.

The more days had passed by, the more he had started to believe their words. Raven was a monster. Raven was dangerous.

It had happened one day again when he was alone at home. They had been spending a day or two in Vaneria, just the two of them because “mama and papa need some time alone”, as they’d told him. The rain had been falling heavily for hours leaking through the roof, and Raven hadn't known what to do more than putting buckets and pans underneath each hole. The atmosphere inside the house was damp, their linen soaked. He hoped the rain would stop soon and that everything would dry before they'd come back. His parents had never been violent, but now that their behaviour had changed, Raven could never be too careful. One of the holes in the roof had drawn his attention because of its strange, but funny shape. It looked like a star.

Raven had stretched his hands to the roof without realizing it, and let the rain fall on him. It was then that he'd felt the same sensation flow through his veins and tickle his fingertips, something calling for him in the depths of his soul. His eyes had rolled into the back of his head once again, the black dots adorning his shoulders came back as he was focused on the rain, focused on the black clouds slowly disappearing to give way to the sun and a beautiful blue sky before falling to the ground, exhausted and terrified. He couldn't control it, whatever it was, and he feared something would happen again when his parents would be back home.

He jumped when he heard a branch snap, then another, and another. He didn't want to think what kind of animal was coming for him, or maybe it was the trees coming closer. They would wrap their branches and roots around his body, trapping him in a tight embrace until his bones would break, one by one. They would then free him and let him die in the Mardale forest, moss would grow on his body as the years would go by. No one would miss him, no one would remember him, no one would notice his parents had abandoned him here out of fear.

A scream crossed his lips when he felt something brush his ankles, and he started to run dropping the fruits on the ground. He ran as fast as he could without knowing where he was going, without paying attention to his surroundings, but most of all without looking behind him. He didn't want that thing to catch him and eat him. Raven hated that forest and he was sure there was more than cute little animals like foxes or squirrels. He remembered some of his mother's stories and that made a shiver run down his spine.

One in particular that had given him nightmares was about a forest paved with emeralds and diamonds. The trunk of the trees was made of black onyx striped in white, their leaves were made of rubies for some, sapphires for other, and their fruits - not bigger than a pearl - were the most delicious thing on Earth and one single of them could sustain a grown-up man for the whole day. But most people would only pick them to make them into necklaces and other pieces of jewellery. Men and animals living in the forest were living in harmony. There was no hunt, nor poaching, and war between men didn't exist. Until one day when a beast-like creature thirsty for wealth invaded the villages around the forest. It wrought bloody havoc on the villages, killed many of its villagers and had destroyed every path leading to the forest, digging deep trenches all around it with its blue breath so no one could reach it. Many had tried to kill the beast, peasants, knights, warlocks, but all had failed. The only trace of their attempts were ashes and charred bones.

He didn't want to die in the same way as the characters of his mother's stories, didn't want to die alone in that forest. But he was a monster, maybe this was his only option.

Raven didn't want to die.

He stumbled over a root and fell on the ground head first, the soil staining his tears-streaked cheeks. Raven screamed. Raven hit the ground until the side of his hands were bleeding, until he was too tired to even feel the rain falling on him and hear the thunder rumbling in the distance.

What were they doing now? Were they having dinner, happy without him? Did they say to their few neighbours the real reason why he wasn't with them, or were they lying to them? Were they thinking about him? Were they happy now that the monster wasn't living in their home anymore? Was a part of his mother regretting their decision? Was his father telling her they had made the right choice? Raven didn’t know if he wanted the answers to all of these questions. He surely wouldn’t like them.

Lying on his side, Raven shed countless tears as the rain was now pouring down on his shivering body, turning dry soil into mud. What was he supposed to do now? He was lost, the forest was too vast, and he should have paid attention to the road they had taken earlier. He wanted to go home so badly, go home to them, to his mother’s arms who would hug him close to her heart, and hear them tell him it only was a joke. A really bad joke. They would laugh, and he would cry telling them they were mean, and he had been so scared. But nothing like that would happen. They left him in that forest, alone and scared.

A part of him thought it could have been worse. They could have sold him to a merchant, or worse to some mercenaries, and who knows what they could have done to him. Raven had witnessed a scene like that a few months ago. He had been surprised by screams coming from the streets and running to the window out of curiosity, he had seen a little boy not much older than him being dragged away from his crying mother, his father’s hand closed on his arm. The boy was crying, screaming, begging his mother to not let him do that, that he didn’t want to go with them, but his mother had only turned her head from the scene and had shed more tears. A beautiful woman dressed in clothes embroidered with gold had then wrapped her arms around the little boy, whispering into his ear things Raven couldn’t hear as the man beside her – her husband perhaps – put a heavy purse in the father’s hand. They had left after that and the same night, Raven fell asleep with the boy’s screams echoing in his mind.

His parents had barely answered his questions when he’d asked them why they did that. They only told him that sometimes, people had to do things they didn’t like or never thought of in order to survive, even if that would mean they would suffer. Raven never saw the little boy again.

His feet were hurting him, but he had to keep on walking. His throat was dry, his face damp with tears and drops of rain, he was hungry too, but he couldn’t stop, didn’t want to. He had to leave that forest and go back home, but the more he was trying, the more he knew he was putting more distance between him and them.

Raven wiped his face with the back of his hand smearing more mud on his cheeks, when he came across a clearing. A few ruins were scattered around a small river, ruins of an ancient temple whose only remaining were the arch and the statue of the protective divinity of the forest. Raven didn't care about the temple, didn't care about the statue covered in moss and vines as he ran to the river and fell on his knees. He gulped large mouthfuls of clear water, coughing when it went down the wrong way, before he removed his torn shoes and let his feet dangle in the water. With a hand he took out from his pocket the few fruits he still had, undamaged after his fall, and ate them. He was sure he would find another bush on his way, he just needed to keep his eyes open. His back met the wet grass and he couldn't help himself but shed more tears once more when he looked into the eyes of the statue above him.

Nei, that was the name of the divinity. They were a kind and caring deity thanks to whom the forest was always green, even in winter. They were taking care of each tree, each plant and flower making sure none were hurt or sick, making sure no one was harming the forest and its inhabitant. According to what the priest had taught him back in Kilead, Nei wasn't living with the other deities in Niovie - a series of large islands floating above the clouds inhabited by the divinities - but instead had decided to stay with humans and help them in any way they could without ever revealing who they truly were. Nei wasn't the only divinity living in Obreau, they were a few dozen across the country hiding their true identity and using their powers to help those in need.

"You are supposed to help those who are lost in your forest," Raven said to the statue with a hoarse voice, a lump in his throat. "Where are you? I want to go home."

He reached a hand to the statue hoping it would take it, hoping someone would come for him and stood up quickly when he heard a noise behind him coming closer. His eyes roved the clearing searching for the origin of that noise, a growling noise that raised his hair on the back of his head and pricked his fingertips. The sky above him was changing, becoming darker and darker, lightning streaking the sky as Raven's fear was seizing his body. He didn't dare to move, didn't dare to breathe as long as he wouldn't see what was coming for him. He tried to stay calm, tried to not panic and run as fast as he could. It was only when he felt the statue against his back that he saw them.

Four black wolves with golden eyes were staring at him, ears sticking straight up on their head, teeth bared, and growling. Raven knew that if he moved one single finger, they'd come for his throat and he'd become their next meal. Had they been following him since long? How was it that he hadn't heard them? The rain had eased off, he should have heard them. Or was it maybe Nei that was sending them to get rid of him? Would a deity be that cruel and kill a child? He didn't remember Nei being an aggressive deity, they were quite the opposite in his memories.

Their sibling though was one of the most vindictive deity from Niovie. Were the wolves under their command? Why would they be after him? Nei's sibling was the protective divinity of the seas and Kilead was too far away from the seaside, Raven didn't know how he could have angered them.

His teeth were rattling, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he was calling for his mother. Raven was still hoping it was just a horrible nightmare, that these wolves weren't going to eat him, that his blood won't soil the statue. Who knows what could happen to him in the afterlife if he'd profane with his blood the statue of a deity? He had heard so many stories from the priest about men and women being tortured for days before they had the right to a new life, a new chance, and now he didn't know anymore if those stories were real of if the priest had only been telling them to scare them. Why would the gods want him dead? Because strange things were happening to him? Because he was a monster?

The wolves were circling him, growling louder, coming closer. Thunder was rumbling above them once more and Raven felt his fingers burn with each rumble. Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw one of the wolves jump, aiming for his small body. Raven acted by reflex. He raised his hands in front of his face, eyes closed, waiting to feel the wolf fall on him and crush his body, waiting to feel its teeth sink in his throat. But he felt nothing apart from the burning sensation in his fingers growing more and more until he heard it, a cracking sound followed by a stench and burning smell.

Raven opened his eyes, surprised he wasn’t dead yet, surprised he could feel the warmth of the sunlight caressing his cheeks when there were only dark clouds a few seconds earlier and noticed four black and smoking spots surrounding him. He walked closer to one of them, a hand on his mouth and nose, closer enough to notice it wasn’t just burnt grass, but charred bones and flesh. Raven fell on his knees and puked from the shock and the smell, his hands closed in fists on the still green grass. He didn’t know how but he knew it was him. The lightning had burnt them all before they could have reached him. He had killed them.

He cried while crawling on the grass dragging himself away from the sight until he could feel the roughness of the statue against his back once again. He screamed until his throat was hurting him, his face raised to the sky asking Them ‘why’. He wasn’t waiting for an answer, he knew They wouldn’t give him one. They never did, not when he’d been crying in his bed late into the night the first time they called him monster, nor when he had wished for Them to make his parents love him again, and Raven thought that maybe right now They were laughing at him, up there on their island. They wouldn’t help him. He was all alone.

Raven walked for hours. Hours during which the pain in his heart hadn’t eased off. Hours during which he could feel how hostile the forest had become towards him, playing tricks on him. He couldn’t remember how many times he had stumbled on roots and fell, thus hurting his knees more than they already were. He couldn’t remember how many times he had felt a presence behind him carving holes on his back, couldn’t remember how many times he thought to have seen someone from the corner of his eyes and followed the shape, getting lost in the darkest parts of the forest, only to realise it weren’t his parents nor Nei.

When the sun started to set and fall below the horizon, Raven found a shelter in the crook of an old trunk. Curled up on himself, knees against his chest, he pressed his forehead against the wood thankful the dead tree wasn’t trying to kill him. He reached for his pants and pulled out from the pockets a few berries he had picked on a bush not far away from here. Raven put one in his mouth, but immediately spat it. What if they were poisonous? If the trees hadn’t managed to kill him, maybe the forest was taking advantages of his hunger and had turned every fruit into poison? Raven couldn’t take the risk. He wanted to die of old age, in his bed surrounded by his children and grandchildren. Not in a scary forest, hiding in a trunk, with gods not listening to his prayers.

A stupid thought crossed his mind. What if Nei wasn’t in the forest but rather visiting their sibling in the North? Maybe that was why they weren’t here helping him find the way out, maybe the forest wasn’t trying to kill him for whatever reason, but instead his frightened self had been imagining all of these things? The roots, the shapes, the voices, the poisoned berries.

His gaze lost in the distance, he didn’t notice a white point the same size as a wool ball moving between the trees, beckoning him to follow its silvery trail. It took him a while to notice it was a luminous orb, something he had never seen before, and just looking at it move back and forth, hiding behind a tree before he could see it again, made his lips stretch in a big smile. Looking at this light was filling him with warmth and hope he thought he had lost for good.

Raven left the safety of the trunk and walked to the light, cautious. Despite the happy feelings this ball of light had scattered in him, Raven couldn't help himself thinking it could be a trap. Something could be waiting for him wherever it would lead him, something Raven didn't want to meet; an evil spirit maybe, or another monster just like him, someone scarier, someone who wouldn't hesitate nor regret killing a child. A part of him trusted that ball, so he kept following its path being careful where he was putting his feet, asking it to slow down when he could barely see it in front of him and at certain times, Raven could bet he had heard it laugh.

He had the feeling he was following it for hours, avoiding many branches that could have scratched his face, stepping over more roots and crossing over small streams. He had no idea where it was leading him, but he hoped they would get there soon. Raven was starting to feel dizzy and weak, and his blurred vision was making it more difficult to follow the light.

The ball bounced in front of him and Raven took it as a 'we're almost there!' as it sped up, forcing him to run after it as he didn't want to lose its track, not after spending so long walking behind its trail. They ran past many trees and other bushes before Raven couldn't see any vegetation around him, but instead he saw a crossroad. One sign was leading to his hometown where no one wanted him back, where only hate and deception was waiting for him, while another was leading to a still opened gate. A road sign on which he read the name of the next city.

Vaneria.

Raven gritted his teeth to restrain a scream of joy and anger. He had been so close to that city, and yet so far. How many hours had he spent in that forest before that light took pity on him and helped him find his way out? Would he have spent the night in the trunk, cold and hungry if he hadn't followed it? Would he have stayed there and died with his last thoughts being for his parents? Raven didn't want to think about it, he was finally out and away from all the fears it had made him feel.

Raven followed the light to the gate, one foot after the other, his hazel eyes fixed on the sky every now and then where many stars were shining and was surprised the guards didn't stopped him when they crossed the drawbridge and entered the city, surprised they didn't even pay attention to him and the ball of light. He fell on the stone floor when they passed the tavern full of patrons and music, his legs no longer able to support him. The last thing he saw before he fainted were the flickering orange lights he could see through the windows of the tavern, and the ball of light above him disappearing.

[stone-man-warrior]

January 12, 2021: 4:10 pm:

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now it says I cannot edit the post I made a few minutes ago, and is refering to an app.

I don't use an app. I access from the Tumblr.com website with a computer, not a phone.

and the place where the hashtags go are saying some reference to YouTube while using Tumblr.

Tumblr is hijacked by Google and Pope Bergoglio. But Pope Bergoglio is dead, died at Grants Pass Walmart about three weeks ago when he was cut in two by the guillote they put in the front entry from time to time, that day, was one of those times.

The means Google is at the Vatican without the Pope Bergoglio. The Tumblr slaves are crying for help in ways that they are able to, with changing the way the controles work, and wishing that someone would notice.

====================

Edit: 4:36 pm:

Assessment:

There is something fishy going on. Everywhere.

============================

Edit: 4:52 pm:

=======================

Edit: 4:54 pm:

“... and the operator say’s” ‘40 cents more for the next three minutes...”

That means the Operator was in on the call the whole time.

“Mrs. Avery” = Mrs. AV E R Y = Mrs. Audio/Visual + Power + Aaarrrgghh + “Y” signal splitter

“Mrs. Avery” = SAG Vatican terror pirate rerouting the call

It’s an avery, a place where birds are kept. Aviary (alternate spelling, Canadian accent, is Phoenician) A Coup.

The Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show song was from 1973.

The records available online say that the breakup of Bell Telephone & Telegraph (A/V) happened in 1982, but everyone knows that happened in the 1970′s. So, WT actual F is happening with that?

Y signal splitter’s work with the recorded history of the world the same as they do with pulsating signals. Truth splits to a dark place where no one can find it, a Gnosis Generator changes the truth, adds bullshit, removes some key information from the truth, then spits out the result for consumption by the people as Gnosis.

Sylvia, is gone. We are told she is moving away, never to be seen or heard from again. The operator wants more money, to keep you hanging on, to find out where Sylvia is at, and not hang up... they can‘t make any money if you hang up.

The Pope is a Crocodile (Croak-a-Dial)

==========================

Edit: 5:24 pm:

Diana Ross = Die on a Cross (she has to learn some Carpentry first, so she can build the cross the Christian Pirates are going to nail her to, See?

(Diana Ross is musical Royalty, in more ways than one, a Supreme Being)

Fast Forward to Princess Diana for Russian Mother Hoax Fractal View through a time warp paparazzi tunnel. (Paparazzi = Papa Arrgghh Nazzi = Pope Pirate Nazi). It’s not about black or white. It’s about acceptance of the Pirate Pope, or not)

===

From the Dr. Hook song I linked somewhere else:

“We got a genuine Indian Guru that’s teaching us a better way...”

It’s “Amp Guru”.

“Genuine” = Generates a Whine from a phone call, American Indian Style.

Remember what happened to all of the American Indians? (native Americans)

Then, add the phone hijack, the operator, “Turn water into wine” all boils down to “The Jim Dunlop” (all Pope, all the time, eternal Pope, Amp Guru at Vatican Choir HQ) on the phone call, listening all of the time. It must be a “Pay Phone” or the Operator would not be exposing herself like that (nun; Russian Whore). The “Turns Water into Wine” is the Modern Day Indian (you & me) all being turned into Whine... crying for help on he phone while trying to find Sylvia on a hijacked phone call where some asshole (nun) is pretending to be Sylvia’s Mother and is jacking US around on the call.

Jim Dunlop, maker of Cry Baby Wah... since 1966.

It’s a gas peddle (throttle) for “Axial Expression” (Axpression).

To Throttle, is to accelerate OR decelerate. (AKA: Buffer (time warp); Governor (leash; limiter)

On a phone call, it controls the speed at which you will decide to accept the Pirate Pope later on, after more effects are applied to the mix, and you slowly learn intuitively about the Christian Pirate Ship, it’s Captains, the size... enormity of the boat, and the French speaking scalawags who crew the thing. They need you and me to move the boat forward, we are the sail on the mast in the wind. We are Jesus. A sale on a pirate ship. nailed.

If you have a Bic Lighter, and learn about the Chi that resides within you, and also carry and use a fingernail clipper for defense, you can defeat the pirates.

A Chihuahua armed with hot sauce and sharp teeth.

================================

Edit: 6:05 pm:

Once again, the puzzle parts add up to reveal a glimpse into the Vatican, through the television screen, as it looked in 1965 - 1966 and thereabout, to see the Puppets of the Thunderbird’s TV show, “the Tracy’s at Volcano Island”, are “Amp Guru”, and “Amp Guru” is a culmination of all of the Pope’s throughout recorded history AD, materialized, as “The Jim Dunlop”, Captain of One Vatican Pirate Ship.

Read this account to see how that was decoded with a secret agent decoder ring from an old box of Cracker Jack’s over the past six years, and a lot of life experience.

===========================

Edit: 6:17 pm:

At the 1:25 minute mark, Jim Dunlop Amp Guru thugs are sent to hassle Jimmi, right there on stage. They Rush him, get all in his face while he’s performing and he does not even miss a lick.

He did not sign-up to be a Christian Pirate. He played left handed, with a right-handed guitar, upside down, to try to show you and me that there is something important to know about the guitar. He had plenty of Chi, was able to be among the very best of the best of guitar players, with a upside down and backwards guitar played on the opposite side.

Fucking Genius.

They sent Jimmi to the 27 Club, where he met Sylvia, they remain there with Janice Joplin, and others at the 27 Club Great Gig in the Sky.

==================

Edit: 6:31 pm:

============================

Edit: 6:41 pm:

Personal note:

This past week has included that my vision was very poor while trying to write, trying to see to cook some food, to see to walk around or do anything at all. But today something has changed, the local terror cells are not releasing the kind of poison gas that affects vision, I can see clearly today. That has not been the case this past week at all, and has been ongoing for many years as the local terror cells release a variety of poison gasses into the surrounding area, the “return air” vent on the forced air heating system draws the poison gasses into the house through the chimney, dryer vent, window “weep holes”, and other household venting and cracks and holes that exist in all houses. The windows are all closed, but the heater return air vent creates a negative pressure condition inside the house, and draws air in from outdoors where the air has been saturated with poisons released by the neighboring terror cells.

If it’s happening to me, it could be happening to you too.

My vision is perfect today, all day. Something changed outside.

That above is strange, it’s the 12th, but that grey area says it’s the 13th. The post there behind the grey area is titled “January 12, 2021: 3:57 pm:”

This one:

I am not able to make edits to that one, it’s locked up by Tumblr. If I try to make additional comment, that other blue message that says something about a Tumblr App shows up, prevents me from further additional comment.

If I could make additional comments to that other post featuring Donald Trump on the cover of the Rolling Stone, then, I would say more about what happened on January 6, 2021 at the Fred Meyer Gas Station when that Salem Oregon Government Bus showed up with the explosive guitar bombs inside, and Mark Keisel was there to make the hit to kill me, but exploded with others who were on that Salem Oregon Government Bus after I defended against Keisel. If I could make additional comments to that post above, on the actual post that’s is locked up and is not accessible for making further comment, then, I might be tempted to say that Donald Trump was also on the Salem Oregon Government Bus that was sent to kill me at the Fred Meyer Gas Station on the 6th of January, at precisely 3:36 pm (I have the receipt in my pocket still).

I might comment that the Bus exploded with Donald Trump on it somewhere nearby the Josephine County Sheriff’s Office on F St., about one-quarter mile from the Fred Meyer Gas Station in Grants Pass, but I can‘t do that, they have me locked out of that one particular post, the one with the mystery 13 on it in the screenshot above.

I could say a whole bunch of additional stuff about that.

The important part to what I might say is that all of that bullshit reported on Twitter about a White House invasion, is all bullshit. What that really is, is a way for Nancy Pelosi to say that Donald Trump exploded on a Salem Oregon Government Murder Hit Bus, and the shit went side-ways.

That is what that is all about in the Twitter news, and everything being said and done by the SAG Congress, Pelosi & Company, is all to make distraction so that no one will be interested in knowing where Donald Trump might be. Even Joe Biden is in on covering for the whereabouts of Donald Trump in the Twitter news.

It’s all bullshit! The whole WH invasion of January 6, 2021, is bullshit cover story done by SAG US Congressional Shills!

He was on the Salem Government Bus when the thing exploded into bits from at least one guitar bomb that was also on the bus, built by Mark Kiesel of Keisel Guitars. The explosives are suspected to have been provided by Micheal Moore of “Super Size Me” fame. If not, Mr. Moore knows where the explosives came from.

Send help to Oregon, learn more.

Please send medical services.

Bring your own hospital.

=========================

Edit: 7:37 pm:

This is a good place to make a REMinder about 737 MAX Airplanes and that I was there, at Boeing Seattle in 1998 when the place was taken by machine gun wielding terror soldiers who did not speak any English at all.

“What did those guys look like?”

Thank you for asking, good question.

You know that Die Hard movie with Bruce Willis at the Christmas Party?

Those blonde guys with long hair. They looked just exactly like those guys, at two of them did.

They killed all of the office workers. Young women who worked in the office at Boeing Seattle. They were called out to the airplane assembly area near the big door to the enormous hanger that Boeing is. It’s a big hanger where airplanes are built.

The women were lined up against a wall, told to say who they were, and what their job titles were, then, the people were separated, “these people over here, those people go over there”, and one of the groups of all women were shot against the wall. There was someone there in the Boeing tour group that I was part of who did some interpreting for the people with the machine guns. I was asked to speak to the women before they were shot also, to ask them what their job title were.

The bottom line here is that all of the math works out that SAG/Britain/Vatican/German terror is planning to use those “Grounded” (modified for terror) 737 MAX to do aerial spraying of poison gas over large populous regions some where. I suspect it’s a global operation in USA and Asia, maybe South America too. There are a whole bunch of those airplanes, plenty of time to make modifications has passed, and they had time to move them around to different parts of the world also.

I suspect Mustard Gas.

Also, reminder that I was there in 1970 when all of those rock star musicians I tell of from time to time were saying that the goal was to eliminate the population of the world, to reduce the population of the WORLD to about 500,000 people. That’s Half-Million people remaining after the “50 Year Plan“ is done. (Five-Hundred-Thousand inhabitants of the globe)

They were serious about that. We can see that they were serious about that. There are numerous clues, indicators, guidance, all that leads to a global depopulation of Biblical Re-Genisis magnitude.

Start Over... is the plan.

Those with SAG Cards in good standing, dues paid in full, might survive, if they are among the ones who draw the long straws, not the short ones at the “Heaven’s Gate” somewhere. (SWSX Terror Convention; It’s compass, points down, and to the left, depending on what hemisphere you are on at the time you take a look at the compass. I think. Maybe it’s a Thompson, goes up, and to the right when fitted with a full drum magazine, so, Hemispherical considerations are warranted, with respect to the right & left hemisphere’s of the human brain, for making the correct choices at the SXSW terror convention on Judgement Day for SAG Card Holders w/Dues Paid in Full, card in good standing)

This is not a joke, I am not making this up.

I was there. At the table at the time.

I was about ten years old. I remember.

So, that is the most important thing to know about why Donald Trump could have been inside of a Salem Oregon Government Bus at the Fred Meyer Gas Station on the 6th of January, 2021, and exploded when the shit went side-ways.

What’s more important is the date, the timing seems to be on or near the 20th of January, 2021, for the planned Boeing MAX aerial Mustard Attack of the world. (Grey Poupon, for decoding purposes. French’s will also work for decoding Twitter news, and promotional email from Music Industry Advertisers and Retailers)

Oregon is the place where a vast majority of the terror is HQ’d. California is where the most leadership is, Washington DC are all puppets, only the messengers, as far as I can tell. Congress is a voice of hidden leadership at corporate offices of all kinds, perhaps. But the highest of terror high command appears to be the “Amp Guru” the “Jim Dunlop” the “Vatican Choir”. Those seem to be higher command level than “British House of Lords”, or, could actually be the very same, could be British House of Lords = Amp Guru.

I still recommend the best defense for immediate results is to take Twitter offline. Make it go away. Even a temporary hiatus for a couple of months would help. The most commands come through the Twitter news stories, coded into them.

Would the world be so horrible without Twitter that the safety measure cannot be done at least temporarily?

Google is the same as the Pope’s Office Filing Secretary.

Google corporate and the mechanisms the make it work have to be taken into custody of Global Security persons who are opposed to being exterminated like a bug in a jar filled with Raid. Are there such persons left alive somewhere?

======================

Edit: 8:45 pm:

There are some people who know that the explanation about the Boeing 737 MAX attack already has come to this very point once before in the past. Only few people are aware of that, and all of the recorded documentation was deleted, made unavailable for me, but is available to others somewhere, I don’t know exactly where, but the Oval Office is a likely place to find those records, or access to them, from Beta Twitter in around 2008 and also on old Tumblr account, and also on old Google+ accounts.

The people who stopped the attack the first time are probably all dead now.

So, here you go, there is no Russia.

Don’t drop this this time:

It’s Mongolia.

They are no terrorists in Mongolia. They don‘t have any nuclear warheads in Mongolia, I don‘t think Mongolian’s even have an internet.

=========================

Edit: 9:08 pm:

Think about this please:

Size and scope demonstration of Vatican pirating in USA:

Let’s say you are a terror army leader who’s army uses nitrous oxide as a primary weapon, your goal for the time being is the kill and replace as many US Citizen voters as possible without being caught. You need a way to get nitrous gas into as many households as is possible. So, you convince the Residential Window Manufactures that they need some representation in DC, to lobby for concerns about climate change that affect the manufacture rules for window makers. The window manufacturers consortium is created because you are really good salesman. So, once that is done, you convince congress that it’s a good idea to mandate that there will be some small holes put onto the bottom of all the windows sold in USA, “Weep Holes” are invented for the purpose that if some condensation happens to gather on the windows, it will drip down safely out of the house through the “Weep Holes” in all of the windows, from now on.

That way, since you need to get the nitrous into as many homes as is possible, it’s much easier to do if the window has some holes there for the terror army to use a means of putting the gas into the houses so the people can be killed and replaced with other people who will vote the way you tell them to vote, making everything more predictable at election time later on.

There, you just managed to create a easy way so your terror soldiers can do their job faster, better, and by government mandate with blessings from the Window Manufacturers Consortium who are people who care about climate change.

You have been doing this a long time, and are so skilled as a salesman, that you can sell moccasins to an Eskimo, and snow shoes to a native American in Arizona, no problem.

You learned long ago, that making things easy for the pirates, speeds the boat along and that a little grease in the grooves makes the guillotine blade come down much smoother. Holes in the window, are grease on a guillotine groove.

===========================

Edit: 9:34 pm:

I go to the store, and there is always some asshole who wants to bum a cigarette as I come out of the store, or wants a couple of dollars for gas.

That’s a lobbyist in training.

A lobbyist, literally, are people who go to places where congressional members are likely to be, such as in the lobby at Capitol Hill. The congressional members need to come out of their offices at least once per day, so, go bum a smoke, hang out in the lobby and wait until they walk by, to ask for some gas money.

===============================

Edit: 10:03 pm:

(Pacific Power Corp turned off my power for just one second as I went to share this next part here, as I pasted the URL for this Buick Commercial, the power went off long enough to knock out my modem, and stop my computer from running. This is big terror news here, it’s revealing, is a major peice of evidence of the Window Manufacturer’s Consortium being used to put holes in everyone’s windows, by government mandate)

As I was saying when I was so rudely interrupted by Pac-Pow:

You are are a Christian Pirate Leader, are on TV, and with this commercial have instructed millions of terror pirate scalawags that you were successful at putting holes in all of the windows in USA, and their job will be much easier after all of the new houses are built after this ad was aired.

Grease, on the grooves of the guillotine ad:

Edit: 10:23 pm:

I need some assistance to keep the connection from being hijacked all the time.

Pac-Pow zapped my power, but that is not all, the Centurylink/Google/Tumblr terror consortium is still fucking with me also. Pac-Pow is the right hand, Centurylink is the left hand, Google is the brains of the three, and tumblr is like a pen that won‘t work all of the time, or a pencil that keeps breaking, have to keep sharpening the damn thing.

That Norton product is fake, I pay a lot of money annually for Norton 360, but they give me that fake one, I can’t do anything about it. It’s been fake since day one. I have been able to get a real copy in the past, but they change it in the background to that fake one. It’s been about fifteen years since I was able to download the real Symantec product. I pay for Norton 360, but I get Symantec Life Lock instead. Centurylink can and does do a lot of invisible hokus pokus with that fake product they came up with. You could have the same problem on your computer. There is nothing you can do to get the product you pay for, that is what you get. It never finds any problems, ever.

My computer must be perfect.

That thing that happened with the power going off was like this, I suspect:

I went to YouTube. I knew exactly what I was looking for. I typed a YouTube search for “Buick commercial with All Buick’s will have holes in the side”, which is another commercial about the same thing, except the ad says “all Buick’s will have holes in the side” on the commercial I was specifically looking for on YouTube. Then, what happened, is a flag went up at Google HQ, they know that the Buick commercials are a problem, so the called Pacific Power right away to scare me away from posting the commercial to show you about the Weep Hole terror at the US Government Mandate level.

Google initiated the power cut at my house, lasted only a second or two.

Please help make the connection secure at least, if you won‘t send medical help.

=============================

Edit: 11:17 pm:

Local Update:

A walk to the mailbox was uneventful.

There is no mail, just air inside the mailbox.

It’s warm, is 51 degrees outside and drizzling.

The warmth could be the reason my vision is do good today, as the forced air heating has not been on much today, I have the thermostat set for 59 degrees lately, down from 61 degrees after getting a giant size electric bill last month. The warm temperature and absence of use of the return air making the negative pressure condition could be why not much airborne gas came into the house today, my vision was very good for all but about one hour today.

The Myers have all of their interior lights turned off, and have a altarnate porch light turned on at the addition entrance that was put onto the house about three years ago. The holiday lighting around the door remains on.

Chapman’s is showing signs of strangers at 3701 Russell road with unusual lighting habits.

All remains dark at 520.

I did not pay attention to trash can conditions, was interested in Myers.

Freebergs is nearly dark, one internal house light can be seen from the road, just one small string of holiday lights out by the roadside is on.

Monroe Offensive Trailer has lighting on at the entry and a small blue glow in the rearmost part of the trailer is present. Monroe’s trailer was dark last night. The Copper colored Toyota or GMC Canyon truck that was at the Monroe trailer is no longer there at the trailer, could be in the driveway as usual. I did not go over that way.

Bells is all dark from where I can see.

I don’t have a view of Phillips 507 to ever say anything about, but there has been absence of activity there for some time, but I don‘t go outside often enough to know about much activity, only static conditions. It’s too dangerous to go outdoors in day time for any length of time.

Chartrand’s is per yesterday as far as I can see.

Dietrick’s turned off the extra porch yellow bug light that was on last night, it’s back to one yellow porch light showing now.

Clyde Baum’s seems a bit darker, less lighting than is usual. I don‘t have good access to a view to know what is normal and was is not.

If I looked at Strong’s, I did not see anything remarkable, I was in hurry, and did not want to fuck around, so, I don’t know, have to look later.

That’s all.

There were no indications of traffic noises near or far.

The Norton security “background tasks” pop-up window was on the computer screen when I returned from a five minute walk. Only five minutes of idle time had taken place, as is usual for the Norton pop-up, despite that it’s supposed to wait about a half-hour before doing background idle work.

The Norton pop-ups are being used to fool someone, somewhere, and have been for many years.

The heater was just on, my vision is poor now.

======================================

Edit: 1-13-2021: 12:06 am:

The thing about the “Weep Holes” in the windows, I have known for decades, I did not know the magnitude of it though until more recently.

I was held captive by Eastwood Guitars and other music industry terror operatives in around 1998 - 2002, forced to design many things for many different terror cells. This guitar is one of my designs. I have never been given credit for any of the things I designed, but that is not important, what is important is that I included a lot of hidden ideas into the things I was forced to design, and this Bucklund model is one of them. It’s designed after, and in association to my knowledge of the Weep Holes, and their connection to the Buick advertising. The guitar is a Buick. It was done to show later, if I could get free of the captivity, that the window Weep Holes are a product of terrorism, done by the same groups of people who were holding me and my family captive.

I am free of that captivity, but into another kind of the same captivity now.

It’s a Buick.

It was designed to explain the Weep Holes that were put there so that the nitrous would be easier to put into the victims homes.

===========================

Edit: 1-13-2021: 12:39 am:

One more time:

The nitrous oxide gas won’t hurt you, and, it won’t hurt the sword wielding terror Christian Pirate who is putting it up your nose. You don‘t smell it. You don‘t see any gas. You can‘t taste that the gas is there. You have no idea that you are being gassed. The terror soldier is fully aware of where the gas is, what direction it will go. They can take precautions that you are not going to do.

The gas does not hurt you. It does make you dumber than a box of rocks at a quarry. Stupid dumb. You will laugh your ass off, as the terror soldiers entertains you momentarily, just long enough to make you put your hands into the hand cuffs they bring with them. The sword is a last resort, just in case you fight back. They want to capture you, not kill you right away. They need to know where the rest of your family is at, and where your assets are at, and how to access them. They take you to a dungeon, basement somewhere, or a empty warehouse to torture you so you will talk. Once they are done, you will be begging them to kill you, it’s that bad.

The gas does not kill you, won‘t hurt you.

The terror soldiers kill you.

The nitrous works as a truth serum, it removes all of your instincts to protect yourself, is invisible in every way, it will make you tell the truth, you cannot tell a lie when exposed to nitrous gas, it won‘t work if you try. You will lead them directly to your family. It’s a pain reliever, you won‘t scream, they can torture you at a mall parking lot at Christmas time, you won‘t scream, no one will know as they pass by with Black Friday Sale Items.

You are not immune to nitrous gas.

If you think you are stronger than the gas, you are fool, and are exactly the kind of victim that makes a good target.

Terror soldiers, Christian Pirates, do the killing, not the gas.

That, and it’s cheap to make. For $50 you can buy everything needed to make an ample supply at any well stocked farm supply store, a visit to a department store for a coffee maker, and gag shop for some balloons to store it in. For another $50 you can get the professional pressure tank at any well equipped plumbers supply outlet.

Plumbers test ball is the preferred pressure tank among the Christian terror pirates, rectally holstered:

=======================

Edit: 1-13-2021: 3:01 am:

I am being throttled by the internet terror consortium, Google/Centurylink/Tumblr in so many ways it’s not easy to know which of the group is doing what particular digital hokus pokus.

For the past few hours, these conditions are notable:

The day started with the Tumblr app notice on my previous post featuring Donald Trump on the cover of the Rolling Stone, then, I was not allowed to make additional edits to that, had to start a new post, this one.

After that, the page I was working on, would jump all around, I go to type some words, and the page goes flying up to some other place.... have to find my curser,  I know it must be around here somewhere... so, that happened all day.

Then later, after the bit about the plumbers test ball, the internet just stopped working... the computer was working. The modem was working. All of the internet connections where in place, and were working, but there was no connection... all of the pages I tried to go to were blank.

“Sorry, we can‘t find that web site, please try again later and check your connection settings...”

Assholes.

One page did work. I was able to connect to Google Gmail to see the contents of my Google Gmail. Yahpoo mail was gone, so was Wikipedia Ten Codes link... all blank, but all the modem lights were on, and the internet connection indicator said all was good.

It was like I was totally stranded, even worse than I already am stranded.

I broke the internet.

The whole thing for about two hours.

This happened:

See, says it’s all good at the bottom right where the internet connection icon is at.

They gave me that scary message, says my privacy is important there at the top... they are going to go ahead and route my privacy somewhere else, it says.

Terrorist bastards.

That was the case after posting the photo of the plumbers test ball, immediately after that.

I am glad it works now. Even if there is no one there who will talk to me.

I got a phone call on Sunday, it’s Wednesday now, but I did not answer the phone call, or check the message, it’s too dangerous to check a phone message when the US President is chasing after you, to kill you. Trust me, that is scary.

=============================

This Just In:

1-13-2021: 2:50 pm:

See that? The way the movie camera icon is not working?

The Google/Centurylink/Tumblr internet terror consortium strikes again. They won‘t let me post the link to the Ozzy Ozbourne version of the Stepenwolf song Born to be Wild, where it’s all different kinds of fucked up at Ozzy’s House too.

Did you know that Ozzy Ozbourne has gone through somewhere around 22 spinal surgeries in his lifetime? All result of Amp Guru and the Vatican Choir terror pirates beating the living daylight out of him for writing and singing the revealing lyrical content he exposes in his music. They didn‘t send him the Great Gig in the Sky just yet, instead, the tossed Sharron at him, and then later, the gave him a reality TV show, Jimmi Hendrix Stage Rush style at his house every minute of every day.

Look at the date of the weird Ozzy song at the linked page above.

Ozzy, doing Stepenwolf’s Born to be Wild, featuring Ms. Piggy and The Count on backing vocals:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1NGzog11vc

(Factoid: It is musically forbidden to do a cover of Born to be Wild, and/or Deep Purple’s Smoke on the Water, the Vatican Choir Amp Guru murder police will track you down, burn your guitar, and bury you in your amplifier if your band plays those at a night club)

Save Ozzy, save the world. He can tell all, people will listen.

Note to Mr. Osbourne: You may not remember the day I chased those Amp Guru thugs out of your house in So Cal, but if you think about that very narrow doorway at your studio, the one I walked through and sat down, and wrote you a note, to say what little I knew at the time, you may recall the day I chased thugs from your home.

===================

1-13-2021: 3:30 pm:

Terror math:

It’s about the Bass (Base) of Global terror.

Black Sabbath: N.I.B.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jB84LL-Z8TU

Just the title is all you need.

There must be a Knight around here somewhere, a stowaway scalawag.

Perspective is necessary from a listener, audience standpoint.

You need prerequisite knowledge about coded language of the entertainment industry, here, specifically, scale is not a factor. Whatever it is, can be as large or small as is needed at a given time, so, ...

N.I.B. contains three periods. Those are “Blood”, “Moons”, “Months”, “Heads”, “Stones” and “O’s”... other as needed.

So, N.I.B. = NOIOBO

It’s a SAG thing to start with (Head Start). Ozzy and SAG are not getting along very well at the time.

Three Stooges show up, beat the living daylight out of Ozzy Osbourne for having recorded the song “War Pigs”.

So, “Spread Out”: N O I O B O

Step the fuck back, have a look.

We have to consider the global magnitude:

Ozzy is from Britain, or UK, somewhere close to the source (Sorcerer)

So, they sort things out over there, God’s job. is to sort things out. (Google)

So, sort it out: “N O Ten Downing B O”

Maybe we can Start there.

I see nitrous there. N O  is nitrous.

“Nitrous Oxide Ten Downing B O”

Sounds offensive to me.

“Nitrous Oxide Ten Downing B Offensive”

Hmmmm....

Where is that Ten Downing (I O Downing) again? It’s in Britain, we already decided it was all about the Bass (Base).

“Nitrous Oxide Ten Downing British Offensive”

Conclusion:

“N.I.B. = Nitrous Oxide Ten Downing British Offensive” 

Perspective:

N.I.B. by Black Sabbath

(Nitrous Oxide Ten Downing British Offensive by Black Sabbath)

(Nitrous Oxide Ten Downing British Offensive by NO² Sunday, See?)

Oh, yeah

Some people say my love, cannot be true Please believe me, my love, and I'll show you I will give you those things, you thought unreal The sun, the moon, the stars all bear my seal

Oh, yeah

Follow me now and you, will not regret Leavin' the life you led, before we met You are the first to have, this love of mine Forever with me 'til the end of time

Your love for me has just got to be real Before you know the way, I'm goin' to feel I'm goin' to feel, I'm goin' to feel

Oh, yeah

Now I have you with me, under my power Our love grows stronger now, with every hour Look into my eyes, you'll see who I'm My name is Lucifer, please take my hand

Oh, yeah

Follow me now and you, will not regret Leaving the life you led, before we met You are the first to have, this love of mine Forever with me 'til the end of time

Your love for me has just got to be real Before you know the way, I'm goin' to feel I'm goin' to feel, I'm goin' to feel

Oh, yeah

Now I have you with me, under my power Our love grows stronger now, with every hour Look into my eyes, you'll see who I'm My name is Lucifer, please take my hand

Songwriters: Butler Terrence (usa 2), Iommi F Frank

For non-commercial use only.

Data from: Musixmatch

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You can decode the lyrics on your own.

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Black Sabbath: War Pigs:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_A6y58afFY

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Etcetera, and so on ...

It’s Christian Pirate terror math. They do addition, with subtraction.

HMS Eleaner Rigby, is the name of the British Submarine Christian Pirate Ship.

13 January 9600

March 13 9600

3139600

Play the turn-a-round:

1339600

There is something fishy going on.

Play the turn-a-round again:

1336900

Stooges come on stage, get in your face for playing Born to be Wild:

Spread out:

13 369 00

Pirates are superstition bastards:

They want me to spread that 1 and 3 apart. Fuck that.

369 is International Pirate Code for: Eternal Progression. Eternal Power. Infinite Control, and other ways of saying that the pirating will continue ...

Fuck that too.

They work the math a little different than I do:

The double zero’s, are “Dead Bitches” in Pirate Speak.

AAaarrggghhhh!

There is more than one way to be a Pirate!

Davey Jones in Locher:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Br_-a21Myls

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tM8PHrArL_E

[tripstations]

The Culture and Beauty of Japan and Venice

The Woman in the White Kimono by Ana Johns ($33.50, HarperCollins Canada) sweeps readers back to Japan to the late 1950s when its younger Japanese generation – especially its young woman – fight those original traditions and superstitions and are left with the consequences, to the present day when we see what happens to future generations.

Beauitful read in The Woman in the White Kimono.

The story flips between 1957 when 17-year-old when Naoko Nakamura falls in love with an American sailor against her parents’ wishes and present day when Tori Kovac is caring for her larger-than-life dying father and finds a letter, which forces her to challenge everything she believes.

By flipping from 1957 Japan to present day, we get to see what it was like to live in the Japan past with its rules including its tea ritual

“Haijme knows the importance of showing up at the precise moment, not a minute early or a second late. He knows how to walk along the dewy garden path sprinkled with water to rid himself of worldly dust and to approach the middle gate for official introductions before tea.”

And the traditions of marriage.

“We bow to our ancestors, to our guests and to each other. Then we partake in the three-by-three exchange with three different-sized bowls of sake. Each one represents the inseparability of the newly formed bond with an earthy taste like moss kissed from dew. Just as in marriage, not all things endured are pleasant.”

We learn about a giant anchor at the front of Womble Gate, The Little Girl with Red Shoes On statue, Zushi, a small seaside town with a traditional house that time forgot with curved, clay roof tiles to “ward off evil spirits because demons only travelled in circles…”, its beautiful beach and the Miura Peninsula, known for its broad and rugged coastline with Mount Fuji in the background and Yokosuka’s blue street, “a dark asphalt street with embedded blue and white stones that sparkled like a river of light. No wonder he stooped down to touch them, even in the photos it gave the illusion of movement.”;

Through Tori’s father’s stories, told in a way that Tory never understood if they were more embellishments than truth, she learns about the Great Divide, which separates the east and the west, the International Date Line.

“He said they followed the north star on…a giant wave. That the groundswell travelled so fast it slammed them into the massive gates that separated the west and the east. ‘They rose from the heart of the sea and extended to the heights of heaven,’ he’d say. ‘And with our ship pinned against them, the court of King Neptune himself tested our valour for days.”

Eventually, Tori follows her dad’s footsteps, landing at the airport an hour outside of Tokyo, the world’s most populated metropolis and one that shocks the well-travelled Tori.

“The high-speed rail cut through marshy fields of rice and expansive rows of green, skirting the edges of sleeping village towns that, according to my travel app, were saturated in history. In one, a Dutch windmill surrounded acres of seasonal flowers – a goodwill gift from the Netherlands to celebrate 400 years of trade. Another was the hidden city of Samurai. Had my father stopped to see the castle ruins? Did he walk the secret paths and tour the few remaining homes of those sworn to protect it.”

As Tori steps out into Tokyo, she is surprised how European it looks.

“Buildings covered every inch of land and people crowded every space between them. There were more vending machines than trees and while the city itself gleamed spotless and trash free, the sky was littered with billboards. I leaned back trying to imagine their neon at night.”

Tori is intrigued by the electronic bird chirping and the blue lights flashing as she crossed the street, both in place to decrease suicides.

We also learned what the Japanese fear in the 1950s and perhaps today.

“For in Japan there are many fearful things under the sun: the great earthquakes that bring down entire cities, deadly thunderbolts from an angry sky, raging winds of a lethal fires and the father. The last is not the least.”

Experience every day life in Venice with this book.

Through Donna Leon’s Unto Us a Son is Given ($38.95, PCG Books), I want to travel to Venice, but am not sure I would actually want to live there as there seems to be, at least in this book, so much that is not said or perhaps said in a certain way. It’s like you can’t just be yourself because there are centuries of history you need to remember before acting or speaking. Or maybe that is just for the older, rich class.

Maybe the Venetian family wonders if the warm weather will ever show up, shops daily at the market, picking up a kilo of fresh asparagus and some prosciutto to craft delicious dishes to be enjoyed outside with family.

The main character in Leon’s book, Det. Guido Brunetti, the subject of 28 books before it, deals with that intrigue throughout the story, but at the same time we see a man who walks home from work to enjoy a mid-day meal and strolls through the beautiful city enjoying sites he never seems to take for granted such as the view outside his home’s window and the scenery he passes on the way to work and the sounds of bells ringing in the distance.

When his father-in-law asks him to stop by on his way home from work “Brunetti’s first response, given that it was a warm day in early spring, had been to calculate the easiest way to walk from the Questrura to the palazzo without becoming entrapped in the now normal migration paths of the herds of tourists. Because of the clear sky and benevolent temperature, walking up Riva degli Schiavoni would be impossible, crossing the Piazza San Marco an act of madness.”

We learn the only normal migration Venetians like is the return of the birds and their Venetian gossip.

“’I don’t like gossip’,” il Conte insisted, recalling Brunetti’s attention. ‘Never have.’ “’Then you’re living in the wrong city,’ Brunetti replied mildly, smiling as he said it to remove the sting. ‘And probably should avoid speaking to other Venetians.’”

A copy of these books was provided by HarperCollins Canada and PGCanada Books for an honest review. The opinions are my own.

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