#I assume I have gotten many details wrong over the 2 hours I rushed this out

[averagefungus]

Ill give my answers here, but don't cheat! Thats why theres a read more under here

Romania is in south eastern Europe, specifically situated inbetween Bulgaria, Romania, Ukraine, Moldova, and the black sea!

This area of Europe is landlocked from the atlantic and arctic oceans. Here people must reach the ocean from their country via the Black, Adriatic, or Argentinian Sea to enter the Mediterranean Sea and thus exit out the Gibralter Strait. This is a handicap compared to the countries of Europe bordering on the ocean, who gained strong influence overseas and empire status, like France, Portugal, Spain, Germany, Britain, and etc. Southeast Europe is much closer or even overlapping with the ancient greek empire over the different seas, as seen with the empire at its absolute largest. Topologically, the area seems much more elevated and rough in the terrain as compared to Northwest Europe, excluding Serbia, Hungary, and the top half of Croatia, which appear to be the bottom of a bowl with the round elevation around them.

The 1989 revolution happened over the course of a week, starting on Decemeber 16th in Timisoara and flaring up dramatically on the 21st, when the current ruler Ceausecu gave a terrible speech that hundreds of thousands booed at. The next day, the National Salvation Front announced its existence and intention on seizing power. After Ceausecu and his wife were captured and executed, the NSF took ahold. However, two things that make this suspicious as a coup and not a revolution, is first that the NSF was founded ONE DAY after when Ceausecu would have been directly affected by the revolution, and that when the NSF took power, it dissolved on February 6th... 1990.

I am trying to be as thorough as possible here, using multiple sources, going beyond wikipedia and onto the internet archive alongside other organizations who serve educational purposes. However, what I have gained from this obsessive quirk of mine is that if you have to ask if the CIA was involved, then the answer, 99/100 times, is yes, the CIA was involved.

The immediate effects from the installment of the NSF were nearly nothing. Economical and living conditions either continued to deteriorate, or staggered around where they were under Ceausecu, as could be seen with an annually decreasing GDP from 1990-1996. The peoples lives hadn't improved at all.

The United States Government had already planned upon what action to take when Ceausecu would pass/die, advising the then president Reagan on what course the USA should take. When the socialist government was implemented, the United States took great care to groom it into being an economic source of labor and an appealing market to manufacturers. The BIT signed in 1992 and then enacted in 1994, advised to be enacted as soon as possible by George Bush, is evidence of this. This would serve a similar relationship between the United States and China, giving the US great control in exchange for financial support. https://www.state.gov/investment-affairs/bilateral-investment-treaties-and-related-agreements/united-states-bilateral-investment-treaties/ You can see when the investments started happening in the next link, the moment the BIT from the united states was enacted, 1994. https://www.macrotrends.net/global-metrics/countries/ROU/romania/foreign-direct-investment'>Romania Foreign Direct Investment 1960-2024. www.macrotrends.net. Retrieved 2024-06-09.

7. Romanian wages are kept low as to keep production costs cheap for businesses, who are often sourcing this labor overseas. How low?

That low. The United States specifically set this up as our business would experience economic prosperity at the cost of human life.

8. This question has already been answered, the United States set up Romania as a target of new markets and labor when the new government was created. Romania as a country was already struggling back in the 90s and it seems to have continued to this very day.

9. The previously existing industrial industries of Romania were divided into two sectors, the 30% and the 70%, 30% of which being available for purchase by foreign investors and the other 70% state sanctioned. However, privatization is a valuable, profitable practice and proved itself to be more and more influential in negotiations which ultimately hurt the economy of Romania, and thus its people.

10. I hate to sound like a pretentious prick but fortunately none of those characteristics apply to me. They have in the past, but I hope I have shown at least a slight want to grow, at least a strong hatred of the united states, and hopefully a desire to show others the joys of learning about the world. Unfortunately, these stereotypes are not without basis. And if you are living in the United States, reading this, depersonalize for a moment. Understand that this could apply to you, but is not about you. It is about the systemic issues plaguing us.

My country is deeply, deeply ignorant and we are taught when young that the United States is so powerful and important that we will be born here and die here without ever needing to leave. This country is powerful, but instead of learning the raping we've committed to the world around us, of the Caribbean, the Central and South Americas, Asia, Southeast Europe, we learn of our many erotic, wonderful, justified wars and our new generation of gods known as the founding fathers. We treat our own states as individual countries, and these phony, surface level rivalries as our important news while our country terrorizes those who hold no power over their situation. The United States presents itself as the only important place in the world, and we believe that. Not as an important place in the world, but the only important place in the world. And then we ask why the world hates us. People here are angered by the term Usamerican, because that means they aren't the default anymore. We're not in a bubble innocent because of our ignorance when confronted by the term "Usamerican".

Hello usamericans. Before you are permitted to engage with me on how much of a condescending and rich and gross European I am, I would like you to very quickly answer a quiz about my home country of Romania. Don't worry, this is an open book quiz. You may not use Wikipedia articles full of "citation needed".

Question 1. Point the location of Romania on a map. Where in Europe is it? [10 points]

Question 2. List three basic facts about this region of Europe and how it differs from the rest of the continent. [15 points]

Question 3. What happened during the 1989 coup? What reason might there be to call it a coup instead of a revolution? Hint: it has to do with the National Salvation Front and the length of its existence. [12 points]

Question 4. Was the CIA involved? [1 point]

Question 5. What were the immediate economic effects upon the general population and on national industry? [10 points]

Question 6. How much involvement did the US have in "advising" the early post-socialist Romanian government? What reasons did the US have to encourage the Romanian government to adopt a policy of 100% foreign ownership of investments? [10 points]

Question 7. Why are Romanian wages kept so low? [ 2 points]

Question 8. Why have Romania's resources and industry been bought by foreign companies so cheaply? [5 points]

Question 9. If Romania had a powerful industrial base of industrial production, where did it go after 1989? [5 points]

Question 10. In your own words, describe why you believe your country is the centre of the universe and people hate it for no reason, why you are so incurious about the world around you as an adult with internet access, and lastly, why do you get so mad when someone refers to you as usamerican instead of just American (a demonym that applies to two whole continents)? [30 points]

[monokyokyo]

Flower Boy

An old one but I'm working on a part 2 so I figured I'd share it anyway!

Jongsang (although it's not really focused on), pretty fluffy, Jongho is a florist

Flowers had a range of emotions. From the fiery passion of roses to the sombre colour of forget me nots'. Jongho found comfort in the likes of these pristine plants. After all, he had an entire shop dedicated to nearly every flower the region had to offer. It was such a simple job yet there was nothing he would rather do.

Every day, someone new entered his shop in search of a flower to suit their tastes or situation, and it was Jongho's job to assist them.

The day started out normal. Jongho was rearranging the objects on the front counter when a familiar face strutted in. "Hello Mr Park," He greeted the tall man cheerfully.

"How many times must I tell you? Just Seonghwa is fine." Chuckled the customer as he removed his sparkling sunglasses.

"I'm sorry. What can I do for you today, Mr Park?" Seonghwa shook his head, deciding to just leave it be. His eyes travelled around the small shop, a light hum coming from his lips.

"I'm looking for something that really pops! You know? This couple is really into gemstones, so they're having a crystal wedding." Seonghwa was a wedding planner. Every now and again, usually once or twice a week, he would come to Jongho's store in search of the perfect flowers to impress his clients. He was a rather picky individual and Jongho learned during their very first encounter that he wasn't someone whose time should be wasted.

As such, Jongho got right to looking for the perfect bunch of flowers for the occasion. He glanced around before finally landing on what he hoped was the right bouquet. "Why not freesia?" He suggested. "The red ones represent passion, something these two must have a lot of if they're theming their wedding around their love of crystals. Wouldn't you say?"

Seonghwa nodded at him, a slight grin forming on his face at the bright smile on the younger man's face. "I would say indeed. Alright, I'll need two dozen bouquets. I'll send you the details on the wrapping later." He put his sunglasses on and turned to the door. "Give me a call when you're ready to plan your wedding, hey Jongho? I promise I'll give you the best of the best."

"I'm only twenty," He giggled. "I've still got some time, Mr Park."

Seonghwa chuckled. "Indeed you do." He left, leaving Jongho with a smile on his face.

About an hour or so later, the bell above the store entrance dinged. Jongho looked up from his order and saw a man scanning, somewhat frantically, through several displays of flowers. "How many I help you today?" Jongho asked the customer cheerfully.

The man sighed and sluggishly walked over to the counter. "I need the perfect flower for my boyfriend. He's been going through a lot recently and I need something to show him that I'm here for him..." Jongho tilted his head at this and hummed. He told the man to wait a moment then hopped over to one of the shelves.

"Here," He said. The man looked down curiously at the pink hydrangea in Jongho's hand. "Pink hydrangea for a passionate and emotional romance. You clearly care about him a lot. I'm sure these flowers will show him that." Jongho tilted his head at the light hum of consideration he received, hoping he would take up his suggestion. "I could label the bouquet if you'd like? What's your boyfriend's name?"

"Wooyoung," Jongho didn't fail to notice the way the man smiled at the mere mention of his boyfriend's name. He found it sweet how love two people could share with one another. Words are hard to express, but one could show them through something as simple as a flower. So Jongho made sure to put on the nicest tag he had, and encased the hydrangea a shiny, clear plastic to keep them safe.

"I hope things go well for you two," Said Jongho just as they finished their transaction. He handed the man the bouquet, sending him a grin with it. "Have a good day Mr..."

"San. Choi San," Then they parted ways. It made Jongho feel a certain pride inside, knowing he had the potential to help someone with his flowers. Regardless of if he knew the turnout, at least he was able to provide some assistance to those who would appreciate it. Well, it wasn't always appreciated.

About thirty or so minutes later, another familiar face stormed into the flower shop. The front door slammed open, disturbing the usual calm atmosphere of the store when he stomped in. An empty vase on the counter, nearly cracking it and causing Jongho to flinch from his seat. He let out a yelp in surprise, a small squeak that only made the man in front of him scoff.

"M-Mr Jeong? I'm sorry I-"

"You should be," Growled the older man. He pushed back his blonde hair with an aggressive sigh while Jongho slowly pulled back the clay pot. His brow furrowed in confusion, wondering what could've gone so wrong that he would come back so vexed, especially after their calm encounter last week. Mr Jeong or, Yunho, had ordered a pot of roses for his girlfriend. Could she have hated them that much?

"I-If you don't mind me asking...What happened last week?"

The blonde huffed, though it sounded more like a growl to Jongho's sensitive ears. "She's allergic," The younger male squinted, carefully asking him to repeat himself. "Are you deaf? I said she's fucking allergic!" Jongho flinched back at his harsh and loud tone yet Yunho hardly made the effort to reel himself back in.

"You sold me these damn flowers, giving me this grand speech about how special they'll make her feel and how she'll love them and you know what happens? She ends sneezing through our entire date! Why the hell would you give those to me?!"

"W-Well how was I s-supposed to know? Y-You came in asking for flowers!" The look Yunho gave him had to be the scariest thing Jongho had ever seen...in his shop. He was tall, about six foot, and easily towered over the cowering boy.

"Are you saying this is my fault?" He seethed through his gritted teeth. Jongho gulped, unsure of what to do in this sort of situation. He had never had anyone this angry over roses of all things.

"W-Well, no...I'm not blaming you but...shouldn't you have known?" He flinched yet again when Yunho leered closer, his hands thrown up in what would likely be, useless defence.

"Those roses had to be bugged, sprayed with something, I don't know! You had to have done something to them! We have roses at home for crying out loud!"

"And do you water them?" When Jongho's only response was silence, he lowered his arms, creasing his brow.

"Well...I've never seen anyone water them...but..."

"So...You ordered real roses thinking that your girlfriend wouldn't be allergic...because she doesn't react to the fake roses in your home?" Yunho could only sputter out a string of incoherent words that basically proved Jongho's suspicions to be correct. In response, he sighed then wordlessly pulled out his logbook.

Yunho watched curiously as he flipped through before he landed on last week. Jongho then grabbed a piece of paper and asked for the man's card, which he reluctantly agreed to. When it was handed back to him, Jongho hit him with a frow. "Here is your receipt sir. I've refunded your flowers..." The face alone was enough to make anyone feel lousy but the way his words trailed off just added extra salt to the wound.

So just before he took his receipt and left, Yunho mumbled something under his breath to the boy. "Thank you...for what it's worth...she loved the flowers before she started sneezing..." A tiny grin formed on Jongho's face and it made Yunho sigh, successfully feeling like less of an ass.

Jongho never had aggressive customers. Irritated, sure, but no one had ever gotten that upset with him. It was a flower shop after all. All of that before twelve as well...

The brunette let out a sigh of relief when his phone went off at twelve-thirty, signalling that it was finally his lunch break. Though the day was mostly quiet, he hadn't eaten since that morning and was eager to fill his stomach with some sort of nutrients. However, just before you could put up his 'Back in 20 minutes sign', the sound of the doorbell caught his attention. In shuffled a man with jet black hair, featuring various strands of gold.

His eyes were light red and his face was a little puffy as well. Jongho didn't give himself a moment to mourn his lost lunch break and hastily rushed over to greet the once crying figure. "I'm sorry...Am I bothering you?" He sniffled, wiping whatever remaining tears he had.

"No, not at all! What can I help you with?"

The man fidgeted slightly, eyes wandering around the shop and towards the floor. Clearly, he was trying to look anywhere but at Jongho, something the younger wasn't at all bothered by. "I'm looking for a flower..." He shook his head, muttering how that was obvious. "A gift I mean. I-It's for..."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to..." Shaking his head once, the customer told him that it was alright, followed by mumbling a few things that Jongho didn't quite get. "Pardon?"

"S-Sorry I um...I just got back from the hospital..." Judging by his mannerisms, Jongho couldn't quite tell if he was a patient or if he was merely visiting someone. "My father he um...isn't doing too well," Well now he felt awful for assuming his condition. "I just wanted to get him some flowers and my boyfriend recommended this place..."

The snap from Jongho's fingers made the older male flinch, put off by the rather bright grin on his face. "You must be Wooyoung! San's boyfriend, right?"

"Y-Yes...That's me..." Jongho had realised his awfully chipper tone wasn't very appropriate and did Wooyoung a favour by calming himself down.

"Sorry...Why don't you browse around and tell me what catches your eye." A slight nod was all Jongho got before Wooyoung began to walk around the store. He tried his best not to follow the young man whilst he strolled about but it was difficult not to be curious. The way he moved was so tired, sluggish even and Jongho knew he wouldn't find anything he would like in a reasonable amount of time.

So, with that, Jongho stood to his feet and made his way over to the mixed-haired male, following his gaze across the shelves. "Anything that's caught your interest?" His sudden question made Wooyoung jump. Jongho apologised as soon as he startled him yet the older only turned away.

"I'm sorry...I don't really know what I'm doing here," Jongho heard his airy chuckle but it definitely wasn't humorous. "I don't know the first thing about flowers or what he would like...I think I'll just go."

Jongho grabbed his arm before he could turn away, earning him a questionable look from Wooyoung. His arm was yanked back and Jongho replied with a nervous laugh. "Sorry. Um, stay right here?" With the soft tone of his voice, Wooyoung couldn't possibly leave yet. So he sighed to himself while watching the young florist run off to the corner of the room, where an array of purple flowers caught his eye.

He came back not too long later with a bouquet in his hands. "Iris'," Said Jongho just as he handed them off. "They represent hope. I hope you and your family have enough, but a little more won't hurt. Stay strong." Wooyoung looked down at the flowers in his hand. Incoming tears were the only thing he saw as they began to fill his vision, eventually clouding it entirely until he felt the water roll down his pale cheeks.

Whatever words he mumbled to Jongho were interrupted by his unstable breaths and cries but it hadn't deterred him in the slightest. Instead of charging him the moment Wooyoung was handed the flowers, Jongho asked him if he would like a cup of hot chocolate. The older male wiped his tears, offering him a slight grin and saying: "T-That would be wonderful..."

Jongho even gave him extra marshmallows to make him feel better.

It was rather late when Wooyoung left. Well, if you count quarter past three to be late - which Jongho did. Although, he didn't mind much. Wooyoung left his store with a smile, flowers and a cheeky bit of foam around his lips. It was good enough for him.

Thankfully, Jongho had gotten to eat a cookie or two while speaking with the mixed-haired male. It was just enough to distract his growling stomach while he helped his few customers. One of which was certainly one of the most intimidating Jongho had seen yet.

A tall stature, black leather jacket, red hair and a dark stare - Jongho had no clue what he was doing in a flower shop of all places. However, he had learned to never judge a book by its cover and greeted the man with a bright beam, just as he did with all his other customers. "Hello..." His voice certainly fit his appearance. It was deep, like it could reach the depths of the ocean if he wanted it to.

"How can I help you today?" Said Jongho, as he waved to the old lady who had just bought a pot of daisies right before the redhead entered.

"I'm looking for some flowers..." As obvious as that may have sounded, Jongho didn't hold it against him though. It was clear that he had never been in a store like this. The poor man looked too scared to touch anything as if he were afraid it was going to burst into flames if he so much as lifted a finger. Honestly, Jongho found it rather cute.

"Of course! What kind?" That didn't seem to be the right question to ask. As all the man did was rock back and forth on his heels, the gears turning in his head as attempted to come up with a suitable answer.

"Um...Pretty ones?" Jongho nearly giggled at how adorable his answer was. He was clueless about flowers and the young florist was ready to help him find the perfect one for his occasion. Walking from behind the counter, Jongho made his way to his titan of a customer and looked up at him. He was quite small in comparison but he didn't mind.

"I'll help you find the prettiest ones around! Who are they for?" Big men like him didn't usually visit Jongho's shop, so it was no surprise when a light blush crept across the customer's cheek and he began to avert eye contact in embarrassment.

"They're um...f-for my mother..." This time, Jongho didn't hesitate to giggle, eliciting a deeper blush from the taller male. "D-Don't laugh! What? Got a problem with me getting a gift from my mother?" The man's tone dropped to a frightfully low level, ending Jongho's laughter within seconds.

"I didn't mean it like that...It's just, I'm surprised. That's all. Not many tough looking guys like you come in here." This time, it was the other male's turn to laugh. A 180 that was nothing but appreciated by Jongho.

"Never judge a book by its cover, I suppose," He sent Jongho a grin and the younger smiled right back. "My mother's been telling me all about this shop, she comes here every Tuesday to look at the flowers and pick up supplies for her garden. She was busy today, so she asked me to pick a few things for her house."

"Oh! You must be Mrs Song's son? Mingi, was it?" The redhead nodded at him, continuing to grin even as he chuckled somewhat awkwardly. "She talks about you quite a bit. The one that sleeps with plushies, right?"

"Yep, that's me. I'll be honest, I'm not much of a flower guy but my mother adores them. Mind helping me pick out something she would like?" Jongho nodded at him, eagerly bouncing up and down in a way that made Mingi giggle.

Despite his rough exterior, Mingi was a rather sweet person. Listening attentively and nodding along as Jongho told him about his various selection of flowers and even giving his own input, saying what and what not his mother would like. Eventually, the two settled on yellow daffodils, quite a few dahlias and a tiny pot of lavender. Once Mingi was completely sure this was perfect, he bid Jongho farewell, promising to come visit again with his mother at some point. The prospect of seeing him again made Jongho grin. Another satisfied customer.

The day was officially coming to a close. Jongho sighed the moment the final customer went on their way. It was a rather old lady and he had just spent the last fifteen minutes explaining that the stamen and anther of her plants weren't insects. A rather draining conversation, as you can imagine. After that, the young man was just about ready to close his shop and head home.

He glanced at the clock, smiling at it finally struck six. Closing time. He trotted over to the front door and got ready to flip to the open sign to close. Yet just before he could do so, the door suddenly swung open and Jongho flinched back in surprise. A hand grabbed his waist just before he could fall backwards, lifting his body to meet another.

Light, sparkling brown eyes met with Jongho's dark ones. His hazel hair managed to look unkempt yet too perfect to fix and his expression was soft but his features were sharp, almost prince-like. He was the epitome of beauty. "Are you still open?" Were the first words to leave his soft lips.

Jongho couldn't find the words or the will to say no or so much as shake his head. All he did was slowly escape his grip, carefully gesturing him into the store. The stranger smiled at him then made his way in. Jongho gulped, watching his every movement. He had seen him before. A delivery boy from the restaurant down the road. The two had never spoken but Jongho knew he existed. Yet he yearned for more.

"Do you know what you're looking for?" He inquired in a voice more akin to a whisper rather than his usual upbeat speaking voice. The older brunette turned back to him. Jongho thought he had done something wrong judging by his stare yet the smile returned to his face.

Slowly, he made his way towards the florist, prompting Jongho to step back until he was pressed against one of the displays. "You," He stated simply.

Blush erupted onto Jongho's cheeks, sending him into an internal frenzy of panic. "M-Me? What do you..." He trailed off when the other male picked a lone rose from the table. Oh...he meant the rose. He told Jongho that he would take it and go, filling him with a heavy heart.

With that, Jongho filled out their transaction, trying his best not to let his gaze travel to the lean figure in front of him. How could he be so intimidating while doing practically nothing?

The man had sweater paws for crying out loud.

Jongho then handed him the rose and a receipt. "Have a good evening, sir..." Yet he hadn't left yet. He glanced up to see the man wrapping a tag around the flower, before he placed it back on the counter. Just before Jongho could question what he was doing, he was hit with another smile.

"Good night, flower boy." Was all he said before he leaned in and placed a kiss on the younger's forehead. Just like, he disappeared into the night. Like a strange yet delightful dream Jongho had experienced in the wake of dawn.

Cautiously, he glanced at the rose that was left on the counter.

Call me XXX-XXX-XXXXX Kang Yeosang I would love to get to know you, Flower Boy

[snowdice]

A Twist of Fate {Part 5} (Everything’s Fine Universe) [Dice Roll 13]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Remus & Janus & Patton, Remy & Patton

Characters: Janus, Patton, Remus, Remy

Summary: It wasn’t unheard of for people to gain soulmarks later in life, but it was quite rare. Usually fate was set in stone. Yet, when one’s fated death was prevented, fate had to make some adjustments.

As he fell, Patton may have felt a strange prickling feeling across his skin. He however, was not paying attention to that, far too distracted and confused. All he knew was that by the time he hit the ground, both of his hands were covered with marks. Later when he went home he’d notice even more in other places, but the ones he noticed when he hit the ground were the obvious ones on his hands.

Then, there was Janus. Janus had only one soulmark on his body. At least. He had only one soulmark that hadn’t been burnt off years ago. When he landed on top of Patton, he did not notice the marks that suddenly appeared on his arms and face. Patton did, however, notice two little designs appear on him: one along the side of his nose and the other right below the scaring on the left side of his face. The second was already colored in by the time they hit the ground.

Universe: Soulmate AU and Superhero AU

Genre: The Dice Roll said fluff and it is… but… it’s more fluff and angst, hurt/comfort-ish

Notes: Child abuse, homelessness, malnutrition, acid burns, platonic soulmates, car accidents mentioned, blood mentioned, death mentioned

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Janus woke in a bed and immediately panicked. A million terrified thoughts about why and how he was in a bed rushed through his mind before he even had a chance to peak open his eyes. Yet, then, through the darkness of his thoughts, he felt familiar little feet digging into his back. With a slow breath, he opened his eyes and craned his head around to find Remus smashed into the twin sized bed with him. He gave his head a few seconds to catch back up with his situation.

The bakery man, Patton. Remus had predicted Patton’s death, and Janus had saved him. That action had changed fate so much that Janus and Remus had both gotten new soulmarks. Janus wasn’t even sure how many each of them had gotten; he hadn’t bothered to check yet. However, he did know that one of the soulmarks belonged to Patton.

It was absolutely terrifying. A parental soulmate. If it had been any other type of soulmate, it would have been easier. The problem with a parental soulmate is that if Patton wanted to, he could basically legally keep them. They were both minors with no biological parents left. Very few people would argue the point even if Janus and Remus went in kicking and screaming. Plus, being forced to stay in one place with adults who refused to listen would be a death sentence, and even if it wasn’t, they’d still be trapped. The blue star on Janus’s face was for all intents and purposes a mark of ownership. As someone who had lived in a cage for a few years, it didn’t exactly sit well with him.

But.

But, no matter how dangerous Patton may end up being to them, Janus knew with the state of Remus’s visions, they didn’t have a chance on the outside.

Remus had explained exactly what had happened after they “went to sleep” last night. Janus knew already that large changes in fate could potentially muddy a psychic’s vision for a time, particularly when said change personally affected the one having the visions. They didn’t often have to deal with this fact, as Remus was currently one of the two most powerful psychics in the world, his birth having been prophesied as far as hundreds of years ago (bar some important details), and as such small changes didn’t mess with his powers as much as they did other psychics’. However, there had been two instances where his abilities had dampened to a noticeable degree.

The first time had been when he’d helped Janus escape Halo Mark, though he’d still gotten enough feedback to keep them from getting recaptured. That instance had also corresponded to Remus and Janus getting new soulmarks, though each of them had only gotten one that time: the sibling ones for each other.

The second time had been at a seemingly random time. He and Janus had been on the run together for around six months when his visions had suddenly dimmed considerably to both of their distress. Remus had no idea what had caused it but had noticed a change in the landscape of the future when his visions returned the next day. He theorized that it must have been a good change as he couldn’t see many new events, just the absences of some. Remus could only see bad future and past events, so him not getting an influx of new things, probably was a net positive for the world. His best guess was that whatever the change was, it must have caused the sudden and inexplicable erasure of the death of the superhero Moxie Man that had been fated to occur in over two decades.

However, this circumstance was not quite like those two other times, because this time Remus could see nothing at all. Fate was apparently still in flux after Patton’s life was saved. Until it settled, Remus would have no more idea what the future held than Janus. This was a problem considering that Janus and Remus as 12 and 9-year-olds living on the streets and at least one of whom was still being doggedly tracked by Halo Mark, routinely almost died every day. Remus’s visions were what guided them to food and shelter and away from murders and people who would put them back in cages.

Which meant Patton, with his willingness to provide food and shelter and not murder them on the spot for the time being was a known risk and better than the possible alternatives. They may very well still end up in cages or dead, but it was the only chance they had.

So, Janus had let Patton take them back to his house and feed them dinner. He’d accepted the clean clothes and the shower. The only protest that had left his lips had been when Patton suggested they sleep in the closed off basement citing the fact that there was a queen sized bed down there, and if Janus and Remus refused to be in different rooms for the night, it would be more comfortable. Instead, they’d ended up sleeping in what Patton said had been his childhood bedroom, full of posters and pastel colors.

Janus had not wanted to submit to sleep the night before, but his body had been exhausted, so he had ended up asleep after a few hours. At least nothing had happened during the night. He was still okay. Remus was with him, and he could see sunlight peaking through the curtains on the window. He was running on the hope that Patton would keep up the nice act at least long enough for Remus to get his visions back. Though, he was unsure what would happen if Janus and Remus tried to leave.

Janus’s thoughts were brought back to the present when Remus started doing his typical morning squirming. He’d be up in a few minutes. A hand flopped over Janus’s chest and he mumbled something before his feet climbed up Janus’s back. Janus winced as they kicked the back of his neck lightly. The boy’s upper half wiggled and then flopped part way over Janus as his feet continued to kick a pattern into the air. He let out a soft humming sound and eventually his body poured completely over Janus, so he landed in a heap on the other side. He then continued to wiggle.

Janus reached out to grab one of his flailing hands, and after a moment, he calmed down a bit. His eyes flickered open. “Janus?” he asked.

“Mmm.”

He reached out to pat Janus’s cheeks a couple of times. “I’m’wake.”

“I can see that.”

“Go’ ‘orning.”

 “Good morning, Remus.”

There were a couple more moments of sleepy calm. Then, Remus woke up the rest of the way.

He popped up onto his knees on the bed, jostling Janus a bit. His eyes widened when he noticed how bouncy his sleeping surface was, and he bounced a couple of times. “I smell food!” he declared, still bouncing as he said it. “Do you think it’s good food? It smells like bacon. Will Patton burn the house down? I can’t see if he will or not. He cooked good spaghetti last night. Is that easy to cook? Is he a good cook? Will it taste good? Will it just be bacon? That would just be protein and fat. Does he know that? Did you know you can get malnourished if you don’t eat enough carbs even if you’re eating enough calories? You can die from it! Should we go down for breakfast or wait until he comes and gets us? Will he be mad if we pick wrong? Will he never come up to see us if we don’t go down and then we’ll starve to death? Where are my clothes? This shirt’s too big, but it’s really soft. It smells like lavender. Is that his detergent? Did you know eating one of the laundry pods can make you die? I wonder if he uses the laundry pods or the liquid stuff. If I lick my shirt and there is detergent on it, will I die? He washed my usual clothes yesterday after I changed. Will they smell like lavender too? I should check!” With that, Remus bounced out of bed to go grab his clothes.

Janus followed him out of bed. Patton had washed the clothes they’d arrived in, and they were probably now cleaner than they’d been since they’d gotten them. Remus continued to chatter as they dressed about nothing in particular. He seemed rather content in this new environment even while Janus was in constant worry. Of course, he usually relied on his visions to tell him if something was bad and may just instinctually be assuming if he wasn’t seeing anything, everything was fine, so Janus wasn’t sure if he should completely trust the boy’s perspective.

Once they were both dressed, they headed downstairs hand in hand.

“Hi boys,” Patton said when they arrived at the bottom of the steps. He was in the kitchen, but had angled himself, so he had a view of the stairs. Janus wasn’t sure if that was to make sure they didn’t make a break for it or just him being eager to greet them when they woke. “Want something to eat?” He seemed to already understand the power of food, and Janus wondered if that would be used against them soon.

“Yeah!” Remus said with no hesitation, perking up. For someone who only ever saw the worst of humanity, he had been strangely trusting when it came to Patton. His eagerness made Janus bristle a bit.

“Why don’t you come wash your hands and sit. I’m almost done.”

“Do I gotta?” Remus whined.

“Wash your hands?” Patton asked.

“Yeah, I took a shower just last night! I’m clean!”

Janus almost rolled his eyes at that assumption but was too preoccupied with watching Patton’s expression. Patton was frowning slightly, and Janus found himself waiting for his reaction with bated breath. Clearly, he wanted to say yes, Remus had to wash his hands, but if they pushed him would he deny Remus food over it?

Patton dithered. “I would prefer that you did so,” he said slowly after a moment, “as it is a good habit to have. Not washing your hands before you eat can make you sick since you might be getting germs into your mouth. That being said, I can’t make you do anything.”

“Yay!” Remus cheered.

“Go wash your hands, Remus,” Janus instructed firmly before he ran away with the idea.

“Aw,” he pouted, but listened. He wandered off to do as Janus asked, and Janus and Patton briefly met eyes before Janus turned to follow him. Remus had tucked his tongue between his teeth as he stood on his tiptoes to turn the water on. He wouldn’t be able to reach the soap where it was, so Janus reached forward and handed it to him. Janus’s reward for his good dead was a face full of bubbles once Remus got it into a lather. Janus sighed.

Once Remus’s hands were clean, instead of going to the table, he padded off to stand next to Patton as the man finished cooking the eggs. They immediately struck up a conversation about bugs Remus had seen in the last month. Meanwhile, Janus quickly rinsed his face of bubbles before washing and drying his hands himself.

“And then if flew away!” Remus was saying when Janus turned back.

“Aw,” Patton said, “that’s sad, but I bet he had some stuff to do.”

“It got eaten by a bird two days later!”

“O-oh,” Patton said, but shook off his surprise a moment later. “I think my mom had some books about local bugs in the office. Maybe we can figure out what type he was.”

“Really?!” Remus said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Sure,” Patton agreed.

“Ooo, do you have any books on octopuses?!” he asked. “I love octopuses!”

“I’m not sure,” Patton replied, “but we can look, or I can get you one from the library.”

“Oh, and Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaapanese beetles… are also pretty cool. Anyway, can we get a book about snakes for Evan.”

“Of course,” Patton said kindly as Janus resisted slamming his head against the counter. “Would one of you mind getting the grape juice out of the refrigerator, please.”

“Okay!” Remus agreed, skipping over to the fridge. Patton watched him go with a slight smile on his face that made Janus want to squirm with something. He couldn’t tell if it was a bad something or not, but it was definitely a something. Patton turned a bit to glance at Janus and quirked his lips up a bit more when he saw him watching. He returned his attention to the stove after a moment and poured the eggs into a prepared bowl. Then, he brought that along with a plate of bacon and toast to the table. He’d already cut up an orange for each of them and set it at every plate.

“He knows about scurvy,” Remus said, nodding in approval upon seeing it.

Patton let out a surprised laugh. “I do,” he said. “Do you like oranges?”

“Fruits are yucky, but it’s better than your body slow breaking down and swallowing a bunch of blood because your gums won’t stop bleeding,” Remus said, grabbing a piece of orange and stuffing it in his mouth.

“I… guess that’s right,” Patton said. “Maybe we can find a source of vitamin C that tastes better to you.”

“I don’t like broccoli!” he proclaimed.

“I’ll make a note of that,” Patton replied, amused. “Would you like me to get you some eggs?”

“Uh huh!”

Patton scooped out some eggs for him and hesitated with Janus before Janus held out his hand to take the bowl from him. He then offered the plate of bacon and toast around the table. “How did you two sleep?” Patton asked.

“Really good!” Remus answered. “I like beds!” Patton grimaced a bit, but Remus didn’t notice, too busy happily making himself an egg and bacon sandwich.

“And you, Evan?”

“Fine,” Janus replied, taking a bite of eggs. He blinked down at the eggs. Janus had made eggs on occasion while on the run, but there was something different about the eggs Patton made. They were a lot fluffier, and they tasted a lot better. In fact, the bacon and even the toast tasted better, though that may have just been that it was fresh bread instead of the day-old stuff they usually got. Plus, there was a lot of food, in fact, he was pretty sure Patton had no idea how much three people could eat in one go, because it seemed like he’d made enough for six. Janus stopped eating when he was full, and it was an odd experience to have two consecutive full meals. He felt a bit tired even though he’d only just woken up.

He felt himself mentally drift a bit as Remus and Patton continued eating. They were much slower since Remus kept rambling, and Patton kept trying to politely pay attention to what he was talking about. This was nice, he supposed. It was almost scary how easily he could feel himself settle around Patton. He couldn’t get attached or used to this. They’d have to leave eventually, he reminded himself harshly.

His attention was brought back to the conversation when Remus just about flipped his plate off the table with the way he threw his arms around. “Chocolate!” he exclaimed.

Janus looked over to see if that display of recklessness would make Patton mad, but it seemed to be the opposite. He seemed to enjoy Remus’s enthusiasm. “Chocolate chip or chocolate cookies?” he asked.

“Both!” Remus demanded.

“Double chocolate cookies then,” Patton said.

“Yay!”

Patton turned to Janus. “Would you like to help us make them?”

Janus nodded. “Sure,” he agreed, surmising they were talking about baking cookies.

“Great!” Patton said. “Can you help me clear the table?”

“If it means faster to cookies, yes!” Remus said, getting up and grabbing his plate and glass.

Janus grabbed his own plate with less enthusiasm and took it over towards the sink. Patton washed the dishes while he directed them around the room to gather different supplies for the cookie making.

Patton had just put the last dish on the drying rack and was drying his hands when the doorbell rang.

Janus immediately panicked because Patton could 100% have called the cops on them before they’d woken up. Patton seemed to sense his panic. “It’s just Remy!” Patton said. “Who… you don’t know. He’s a friend. A soul-friend. I totally forgot he was coming over today after his exam. I’ll ask him to leave.” He darted towards his front door.

Janus leaned over towards Remus. “Be ready to run just in case.”

Remus nodded solemnly even if he looked a bit sad, probably because he wouldn’t be able to make cookies if they had to bolt. Then, Janus followed after Patton on silent feet.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 6 Part 7

[atxlxs]

Beyond The Veil: Chapter 6

A glance at the time told Eras that Muska was still stuck in the meeting. Unsurprisingly, but also disappointing. She had hoped the meeting would go faster so Muska would get home an hour ago. She really wanted to get food started so she could relax, the nerves of Musa going to a highschool had eaten at her all day.

Great, she was starting to sound like an actual mother.

*sigh*

Pulling out her phone, Eras opened the phone app and pressed call on Muska’s contact. Conveniently titled ‘parasite’. It rang for a total of 3 times before it clicked, suddenly two voices flooded through the phone. One, that was Muska, the other was definitely Nedzu. So the witch put her on speaker phone. Nedzu was probably trying to get her to answer more questions then they agreed to answer.

The chirpy “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your meal but if I may inquire, is your guardian real or not? I know you're older than most of us but as you said you are a minor for your kind. We would like to get you in a safe environment for the time you spend learning here and research revealed nothing but a name, Viridis Eras if I remember correctly.” was surprisingly soft and sounded genuinely sincere.

Maybe, Eras wouldn’t have to worry constantly about her friend.

“I am very much a real person, Nedzu.” She said simply, her voice coming across smooth and melodic. The other side of the line went dead quiet. It almost made her chuckle but she refrained. Intimidation was hard to maintain through giggles.

“Hey Eras, what's up?” Muska asked, a hint of relief in her voice. Ah, Nedzu definitely was trying to pry more details out of her.

“The person that actually needs to eat physical food is not in my house to eat it. Since school ended 2 hours ago and my parasite wasn’t here yet despite me stating it was a pasta night, I got worried.” Eras responded, ignoring the soft “actually need to eat?” from the background of the call.

She wasn’t lying. After school had ‘released’ she had been checking the clock every 10 minutes. Anxiety over what could be happening kept her from focusing so she had sat down on the couch and glared at the fireplace for the entire 2 hours.

So what if she was overly worried, and for nothing it seemed? She has had bad experiences and experience is always the best teacher.

“Awe, was my sugar mommy worried about me?” Muska said, her tone teasing and Eras could pick up the faint sounds of choking from the other side of the line. Of course she would throw that term around in front of others.

“You wish, gremlin child.”

“Old woman.”

“Bitch witch”

“What kind of pasta?”

“Spaghetti, homemade, and with a homemade roasted garlic seasoned meat sauce. As well as a salad but Who knows if you’ll have the appetite for it. It’ll be there though.” Eras had gotten up at this point and was shuffling around the kitchen. “Will you need a ride home?”

“Nah, Nedzu is practically vibrating in his place at the thought of another veil member, which he has correctly hypothesized you are, and would most definitely stalk the gate for you.” Muska returned, amusement bleeding into her tone as Eras caught snorts from around the room she was in.

Suddenly, a cough snapped her attention back to the conversation as said rat cleared his throat.

“As amusing as this is, Before you leave would I be able to ascertain who or what you are? Considering the age of the witch present, for her to address you as ‘old woman’ I assume you must be someone who has lived far longer.” Nedzu stated, interest coating his words.

Before she could respond someone in the back of the room, a gruff voice that was deep as fuck holy shit, spoke up with a warning present in his voice.

“Nedzu, I don’t believe interrogating them will get you any of your answers.” the voice said, agitation and resignation in his tone. He was probably well versed in Nedzu.

“Thanks Aizawa-sensei.” Muska said, a little choppy on the sensei but that was expected honestly. Well, nice to know the name of the voice. However, Eras wanted to make the rat suffer a bit. He spent a few hours interrogating so she might as well dangle an interesting opportunity in his face and not allow him to reach for it.

“Yes thank you Aizawa-san, I don't mind telling you what race I am , Nedzu. I am also much older than the teen witch in front of you at the moment. Yet, alas,” she said with faux disappointment and sorrow, “I seem to be needed somewhere else. The pot that hasn’t even begun to boil yet is very threatening to me so I simply must end the call here. See you at home bestie.”

With a response of “You got it bestie.” the line clicked and went dead. Snickering to herself as she finally started the stove.

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Aizawa Shouta has had several revelations as the day passed. First of all, the broken bone boy was very determined to keep his place in the heroics class. He’s going to be a problem child, he has a sixth sense for them at this point. Secondly, one of his students is an enigma. She looks to be a bit older than 16, maybe 17, yet is over 2 and a half fucking centuries old. When he had first come across the term ‘beyond the veil’ he knew there were probably things that far surpassed humans in different areas but that old? That counts as a teen?

With a heavy sigh, Shouta sat through one of the wildest faculty meetings he had the displeasure of being forced to attend. That was saying something considering his employer was Nedzu. Granted, he wouldn’t have skipped this one anyways when knowing answers to the veil would be given. Understandably, not all of the answers, but now they had a firm idea about what actually lived beyond it. Also understandably, the new information was perplexing. Shouta wouldn’t touch any more information with a ten foot pole until whatever he was just given was processed.

As Viridis left the room, thankfully less chaotic than when she had entered, Shouta let out a sigh of relief. He rubbed his hands down his face and contemplated what he just heard. Finally, they had an overall summary of the types of races present in the veil and a somewhat structured hierarchy that would have to be explained further at some point in case they stumbled into the veil now but that could wait.

Shouta shivered as he remembered how oppressing the air had gotten in the room during Viridis’s talk about the forgotten. He had met hardened villains that had less presence and conviction then she did during her rant. They would need to hear about the taboos as well, he really didn’t want to be branded thank you very much.

Luckily, the goblin of a teen did actually have a guardian that existed. (No ‘Zashi, his jaw was firmly in place and had not dropped when the person spoke, even if it did that was warranted because he's sure he saw even nemuri marvel at how smooth it was, and no he did not snicker when they obviously baited Nedzu.) They wouldn’t have to worry about finding a place for them to stay safely while attending their school. This brought up some new considerations though. Groaning he slammed his head onto the table dramatically, the other teachers swiveling their heads to snap their gaze to him.

“Nedzu, she’s probably already done with the general education curriculum. If we don’t find a way to occupy her, we’ll have to deal with whatever chaos she makes to entertain herself while bored in class.”

All the teachers nodded in agreement. Fear flashing through their eyes at the idea. The flashy pro’s were unusually subdued after that showing. Whether from the presence of something completely unknown to them that was downright terrifying, or just the way Viridis acted and spoke to Nedzu, Shouta wasn’t sure.

Honestly though? Rat-man was his new favorite nickname to call the chimera in his head, it was stuck and was hilarious.

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The morning of the second day of Muska's highschool life, Eras felt off, like something bad was going to happen kind of off.

When she had ‘woken’ from her vegetative state that morning everything just felt wrong. Then as she got up to start the day things just kept happening. None of them were good.

First, she found out that Tibbles had knocked over her higher end coffee grounds. (Accidentally of course, Tibbles may see them as servants but he was smarter than most and knew better than to ruin something a vampire enjoys. Eras could hold a grudge and it isn’t pretty) Next, she was informed that she had 4 business meetings, back to back, since there was a supply disruption and her pseudo-bosses that she pays to handle shit like this were out of their depth and had never experienced this before. Great.

Rushing, Eras made the coffees out of the cheaper brand and it hurt her soul to do it, coffee was sacred, and ran back to the observatory where her closet was to get dressed.

Grabbing out one of her many business related outfits, she threw on the first one she saw and paced over to her full length mirror to adjust it. A forest-pine green silk button down, the top three buttons were left open and a mesh underbust corset tied it together and tucked it into black dress pants. She tugged on black platform heels that came to a stop above her ankles. A charcoal black coat that stopped at ankle length hung off her shoulders. Since fall was starting to approach, the days have gotten cooler so it was there just in case.

Not that she actually felt the cold, she was technically undead, but the aesthetic was important.

A few extra accessories to tie it together, a silver chain necklace and several statement rings that were scattered on both hands along with earring sets, and after fixing her middle part she was done. Black circle sunglasses were grabbed absentmindedly through habit as she left the room. The sun was bright and Eras’s eyes were made for the night.

When she walked back into the kitchen to grab her thermos filled with a caramel macchiato she heard a wolf whistle from the dining table. Spinning around, she noticed Muska staring at her with surprise.

That was warranted, Eras dressed like a gym obsessed hobo most of the time.

“Holy shit, Lookin hot as fuck, Damn bestie. where are you heading to?” Muska said as she idly sipped her coffee while the phone she was scrolling through laid on the table, opened up to some kind of story based on the paragraphs of text she was seeing.

“Thanks, I have 4 business meetings that are emergencies because apparently a food supplier that I relied on had to recall everything, so I have to go down and explain what to do and listen to suggestions all day. I should be done by the time your school gets out so I’ll swing by and pick you up if time favors me.” Eras rambled a bit towards the end while fidgeting with her cup.

She was never able to gracefully accept a compliment outside of a text message, no matter how many years Muska’s been with her and hyping her up. Grabbing her keys, this time to her car and not the motorcycle (no matter how much she loves that bike she doesn’t want her hair ruined before she gets to the meeting, she's about to rip into some people.) She turned to Muska.

“Want a ride there?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

A total of 3 minutes passed as Muska’s sleep-addled brain caught up and she nodded, downing the rest of her coffee like a shot and slipping into her room to change into the uniform.

That was also a new weird thing, Eras was definitely not used to seeing Muska in anything but various black outfits with the occasional color. She missed seeing the edgy outfits and platform heels that were always an unneeded height since Muska was fucking taller than her. (she could change that but she was comfortable with 163cm)

Once Muska came back out, a quick pet to Tibbles given on the way which gave them a meow (Muska immediately glared at the cat. Sadly, Eras was at a loss as to what the cat was saying. Again.) and they both walked out of the door. Despite living on a mountain, they had a stone path that led to a fairly sleek building that blended in with the surrounding trees and mountain terrain. Once inside, parked along the furthest wall and facing the exit were three vehicles. The motorcycle that Eras had driven Muska with on the exam day, a military grade jeep that was blacked out and decked out, and finally, a 1970 volvo. It was a pastel mustard color and belonged to Muska.

Swinging open the door to the Jeep, Eras climbed in and started the car. Opening the garage door with the touch of a button and left the moment Muska was strapped in.

The ride to UA was easy and calm, except for the blaring of Muska’s playlist that Eras didn’t dare tell her to turn down because it was one of her favorite songs and she was loudly singing along. Pulling up a block away from the highschool, Nedzu precaution, Eras waved Muska out of her car and yelled another “KICK ASS WITCH BITCH!” before cackling as she drove away from a very aggressive middle finger from her friend.

Time to go deal with meetings that could have been a conference call.

“I AM-” A loud voice sounded from the hallway, startling Muska from her glare down with PomPom, “COMING THROUGH THE DOORWAY LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!”

That is, not how normal people enter a room what the fuck?

The newest blond in the class stood at around 200 fucking centimeters tall and wore spandex like a second skin. In american colors. Muska had never paid attention to the #1 Pro hero before but the more she looks at this walking american flag the more she’s grateful for not paying attention. Then something caught her attention.

The man had the same leaking weird energy as the twink from the faculty room.

How the hell did the solid brick wall of meat turn into the skeleton of a man she had seen literally yesterday????? Not only that but the leaking energy seemed to travel through the classroom, as if closer to the source of what's gathering it. As she followed the line of energy she noticed it stopped in front of her, going right into greenie….

What did she just stumble upon?

This feels like national secret type shit.

She tuned back in to hear the hero describe the battle trails they would be facing. 2 on 2 battles with full quirk use and indoors with a fucking bomb to locate. Paper mache but still, this was kinda advanced. She did, however, perk up when he mentioned costumes.

That, she was extra excited about.

Despite not really coming to UA for the hero aspect but more of the quirk training aspect, Muska still felt pretty excited about the costume. Also, she would legally be allowed to beat people up as a hero as long as they were classified as criminals or villains. That sounds like a good stress reliever within reason. She wasn’t going to just maul them. That’d be an abuse of power.

After being dismissed to change, Muska ran up to snatch her costume and bolted to the locker room. She had some say in the weapons but Eras had actually taken the time to design the costumes basics in order to cover everything that might be flung after her. It was also a way to help placate her. For some reason Eras had been extra fidgety ever since she started going to school. There were some things she didn’t know about Eras’s past, but she definitely knew that there was some kind of trauma there, and whatever caused it happened in a school setting.

Opening the case, the first thing Muska noticed were the knee high steel reinforced combat boots that had armor built into it to act as knee braces as well. Next to them was a pair of mirror sunglasses that were purple, placed on top of a letter.

[You’re probably wondering about the glasses. I sent them into a support company for a little upgrade to help you out on the field. They're not necessary so if you want to skip wearing them that's fine but at least check out the surprise I’ve added ok?

Kick ass witch bitch

-E.V ]

Placing the sunglasses on her face Muska almost jerked them off in surprise as a cat mascot character appeared on the right side and waved before jumping across the glasses and they powered up, showing an HUD layout. Something said ‘put on suit to connect’ but that was ignored in favor of the other abilities. The right side had facial recognition software and a tracker for things that are marked in view. There was also a marker that she could activate to aim weapons, like a video game. The left had the ‘connect to suit’ warning at the top but underneath that was a mini map of the surrounding area using a fucking satellite. How the fuck?

Taking them off for now, Muska went and picked up her suit to throw on. There were Two layers. First was a black body suit with colored accents that glowed when wanted, right now they were purple but they could change colors. It was Kevlar and another special type of alloy to make it shock resistant, fireproof, frost proof, and immune to knives and bullets. Next, was a cropped hoodie and shorts which stopped at the upper thigh. The cropped hoodie was purple and the hood part of it looked like a witch hat, the long point fashioned after the stereotypical black witch hat.

There was a tactical belt that wrapped around her waist and connected to two belts that wrapped around her thighs below the shorts. The belts that went vertically on the side of her thighs held pockets of medical supplies and smoke bombs. The previous on the left and latter on the right. The belts that were wrapped around her thighs carried the pockets that held her brass knuckles. The belt around her waist held the whip so it dangled while coiled up off her right hip. Slipping on the boots and lacing them up surprisingly quick, the full outfit was on.

Putting on the glasses once more Muska discovered why it said to put on the full suit. At the top left of the sunglasses was a full body scan that continuously displayed her vitals. It was green for now but if she retained injuries it would slowly move between green to yellow to red. Red being critically or fatally injured.

Holy SHIT Eras! This is some Tony Stark shit?!?

Tags:

@baguettehead

[thominho-incorrectquotes]

I need you, always

This is my entry for Thominho Week 2020, Day 7 “Soulmate AU”

Characters: Thomas x Minho

2129 words

Tags: Canon compliant, post canon, Soulmate AU, fluff

Summary:  Thomas never felt worst. Not even when he went against his own promise and told Minho what he did to Newt. Not even when he pulled the trigger… Okay, maybe not as much, but he was still feeling bad. Really bad.

Note:  I'm so sorry, I was supposed to post this 2 days ago, but I got busy again. Also, this fic is kinda part 2 of this fic.

You can also read it on AO3 and ff.net

________________________________

Thomas never felt worst. Not even when he went against his own promise and told Minho what he did to Newt. Not even when he pulled the trigger… Okay, maybe not as much, but he was still feeling bad. Really bad.

He was sad, irritated and he had the feeling that his heart was missing, like it had been ripped out of his chest. And he didn’t understand why or where it came from.

Everything was fine in the Safe Haven. People were doing well. It was a peaceful life. So why did Thomas felt so bad?

He was seating by the beach, like he always did with Minho when they were done with their tasks for the day. When they arrived to the Safe Haven, the other immunes somehow wanted the two of them to be part of the small leader group. They said that they trusted them ever since they guided them out of the Maze and brought them there. Everyone had agree, even Gally. Given that Minho had a natural authority and Thomas was quite diplomatic, they worked well together. Of course, older immunes were also part of this team of leaders, like Jorge.

Right now, Minho was away with a small group of immunes for an exploration trip of few days. Thomas had wanted to go, but since he was one of the leaders, he had to stay. Now, the cabin he shared with the Asian felt empty. Lunch time felt dull, his best friend was not there to crack a joke. And he was alone to go to the beach. Thomas really missed the older boy. He had been gone for only few days and was supposed to be back soon, but he still missed him.

Lost in thoughts, he didn’t realized that Gally came and sat beside him. Turning to the taller boy, a bit irritated because it was his and Minho’s spot, but he still greeted him. It was weird to admit, but Gally became quite a good friend over time.

“How are you?” the blond asked.

“Fine.”

“Don’t lie to me Greenie.”

Thomas hated that nickname. But coming from Gally, it kind of felt nostalgic, so he never said anything when he called him that.

“You clearly aren’t yourself right now” he continued. “Not that you smile much anyway, but nowadays you’re just… depress.”

The brunet didn’t reply and instead stared at the ocean, a view he couldn’t never be tired of. What could he have said anyway? He knew that he hasn’t been the loveliest person lately.

“You miss him, don’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question. And Thomas knew exactly who Gally was referring to.

“How’d you know?”

“It’s pretty obvious shank” he laughed. “You two are always together.”

Thomas stayed silent. Once again, Gally was right, he just couldn’t go and deny it.

“You know, I have this theory...” the Builder began. “When I was in Denver, I heard something pretty interesting.”

“And what could it be” Thomas asked in a tone that indicated that he didn’t really care.

“It’s about soulmates.”

“Soulmates?” That was intriguing.

“Yeah, soulmates.” Gally was grinning, which did nothing good to his disfigured face. “Apparently, soulmates were a thing back then. It’s now more of a legend, because of the Flare and the many deaths it caused. But anyway, it says that people are bound to meet someone at some point in their lives and form a strong bond with them that will never break. It can be anyone. A friend, a sibling, a partner… Anyone.” Thomas was confused. “Why are you telling me all that?”

“I think you and Minho are soulmates” Gally answered.

A bomb was dropped. The brunet stood up in shock. He couldn’t believe his friend just said that.

“W-what? Have you lost your mind?!” he almost yelled.

“Let me explain” Gally sighed. He should have anticipated this reaction. “The thing is; from the moment the soulmates meet, they can’t be away from each other for too long or else they’ll start to feel miserable, lonely and depress. It apparently feels like your heart is not there anymore. Tell me it isn’t how you’re feeling right now.”

Thomas was speechless. He let himself he let himself fall back on the sand stunned. The taller boy was looking at him, deadpanned.  

“But…” he tried, but was unable to form a sentence.

“Listen” Gally continued. “Back in the Glade, Minho had never really been close to someone. He was often alone, until you came. Sure, he got along with Newt and some other Gladers, but close? Like how close you two are? Never.”

Thomas was surprised to hear that. His best friend was such an amazing person in his mind, he just assumed that he could attract and befriend anyone. He was funny, smart, strong… and quite attractive.

But then he thought back of that night in the Pit, where the Asian boy told him that Thomas was the only one who could understand him. He remembered that connection he felt with the Keeper at that moment. They had slept together that night.  It had felt so good to finally have someone he could count on.

He remembered how he felt when he got reunited with Minho after they had been apart during the trials. He remembered the joy and relief he felt. He remembered how having the older boy in his arms felt, how happy he felt to know that he was alive.

Okay, maybe Gally wasn’t that wrong.

“Is it real? This whole soulmate thing?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but if it is, I’m pretty sure that you and Minho are soulmates” Gally replied with a shrug. “And thinking about it, I think Alby and Newt also were soulmates. They were both so close.”

Thomas didn’t want to think about Newt. It still hurt so much, even after telling Minho. But he admitted that after Alby’s death, the blond boy never was the same.

“Okay, and what do I do with this new information?”

“That’s your problem” Gally mocked him. “It was just tiring seeing you so depress, I thought it could help you if you understood why you’re feeling like that.”

“Wow, thanks Gally, I never thought you could be so considerate” Thomas replied sarcastically.

“Minho’s really rubbing on you” the boy snickered. “You two are really made for each other.”

At that, the brunet blushed, but turned his head, not wanting the other to see his red face.

“You know that he still haven’t forgave me?” Gally informed.

“Forgive you for what?”

“For trying to kill you. For wanting to kill you.”

“Nonsense, he did” Thomas scoffed.

“No he hasn’t. He hates my guts. I can barely talk to the guy.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah.” Gally grinned. “He really cares about you, you know? Never saw someone so protective…”

A million thoughts were running in Thomas’s mind. He was analyzing every moment, every details of his relationship with Minho. Every times the Keeper had been there to make sure he was safe. Every time he saved him.

He also came to the realization that ever since they first met, back in the Glade, he has wanted to be around the Keeper. His weird desire to become a runner must had come from that. At least, a part of it. He liked to be with the boy, having him all for himself. Their alone moments on the beach or on their cabins were times Thomas enjoyed the most.

His best friend was the most important person in his life. He knew that. But Gally just came and shook all his believes. Was it really more than that?

“Anyway, I have things to do” the Builder said as he stood up, shaking the sand that had gotten on him. “Have a nice evening.”

“You too…”

And like that, Gally left Thomas to his own thoughts.

***

Two days had passed. Thomas was doing his usual tour, helping some people and making sure everything in the Safe Haven was doing well, when he heard someone yelling that the exploration team was back.

He never ran faster. And he had run a lot in his life!

He just needed to see Minho.

Over the past days, his discussion with Gally had kept him awake at night. He just couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was Minho really his soulmate?

However, right now, he just wanted to see him. He had missed Minho so much.

When he finally saw the massive built and perfect raven hair of this best friend, he stopped breathing. He was there.

Without having the time to process anything, his body rushed towards Minho. He almost knocked him over by hugging him as if his life depended on it. Immediately, he felt better. The hole in his chest was gone. The sadness he carried with him also disappeared. He just… he really had missed him so much.

Minho was also holding him tight, nuzzling into Thomas’s neck. He couldn’t let go of him. At some point, they ended up on the ground, still holding each other. The world around them was a blur. The only thing that mattered was finally being together.

They stayed like that, silent, for what felt like hours. It just felt so good.

“Oh damn” Minho finally said, letting out a breath he was holding. “I’m never going away without you again.”

He feels the same Thomas thought. He feels the same!

It was clear now. He loved Minho. He was in love with him. And they were soulmates, there was no denying anymore.

“Yeah, you better” he replied, his voice muffled by Minho’s neck.

“Come help us lover boys” said Frypan who came to help unpack. “You’ll have plenty of time to make out later.”

Both boys blushed.

“We weren’t-“

“Yeah, but you were about to. Now help us!”

They reluctantly separated, slightly embarrassed. But they were happy to have each other again.

***

They went to their cabin not much later and as Minho was untying his shoes and went to lay on his bed, Thomas couldn’t help the warm feeling he felt over seeing his best friend back home. He realized that without him in their cabin, it haven’t felt like a home at all. It had been cold and empty. Now, it was warm and lively.

Once he got rid of his shoes, he saw Minho with arms open on his bed. Thomas immediately latched onto him. He missed their cuddling session too. He laid his head on the Keeper’s chest, his arms wrapped around his torso.

“Don’t ever leave me again. No for so long, it felt horrible” Thomas mumbled, drowning in all the feelings he felt about finally having his friend back.

“I promise.”

Minho was running his hand in the soft brown hair, making the boy almost purr. It wasn’t something abnormal for them to be like that. Ever since that night in the Pit, physical touch was a regular occurrence for them.

But something was bothering the brunet. He needed to tell him.

“You know…” Thomas began, breaking the silence. “Gally told me something weird.”

“And what is it?” The Asian had almost growled. Okay, so he really hated Gally…

“Well, it’s about soulmates…”

He then repeated what the Builder had told him. Every details. Minho was listening quietly, stroking the younger boy’s face with his thumb. He could feel the nervousness in Thomas voice.

When the Runner finished, his heart was beating faster than usual. There was still a slight chance that the older boy didn’t feel the same and doubted there were soulmates.

“That explains a lot” Minho however stated, to Thomas’s relief. “It was a bit weird for me, getting so attached to you, even after what you did for me back in the Maze. I guess it was why.”

“Yeah… it explains a lot…”

“Well… I’m happy my soulmate is the person I love.” It was said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Like something Thomas should have known for a long time.

“W-wait what?”

“What?”

“Y-you love m-me?”

Minho stared at him deadpanned.

“Yes, you dumb shank.”

“No… as in… in love with me?”

“Yes, you dumb shank” he repeated. “Really, after all this time you didn’t figure it out? I thought you were supposed to be bright.”

“But…”

“No, you’re dumb, just admit it” Minho laughed.

Thomas chuckled along. He never felt so happy. He was filled with joy that his feelings were reciprocated. He climbed on top of the other boy and grinned at him.

“Okay, I’m an idiot.” The Asian shook his head in agreement. “But I guess I’m your idiot.”

“Of course you are… Now come down and kiss me.”

 ___________________________

I hope you enjoyed this!

I personally really enjoyed this challenge! It had been a while since I wrote something in english, so just for that it was pretty challenging, but writing a fic everyday, coming up with ideas and just writing about my favorite ship was just really the best!

[screamhole]

MY DATE WITH DEATH: A TRUE MEMORY & STORY

Did I ever tell you about my date with Death? Well, it’s a pretty horrible day where I’m at, so what better way to kill it than by spinning up one of my famous stories? And let me tell you, this one spins like a Beyblade in Hell on acid! 

Folks, let me tell you about the time I died, and all the fun I had along the way.

1. 

It all started in the bathroom, as so many classics do. I was brushing my teeth in the shower, as I am wont to do (note to reader: this means ‘as I want to do’; it looks dumb written out, but it’s actually smart as hell). Shower-brushing is a small time-saving trick of mine, which I never fail to apply on the daily. This day was no exception. I was all over those holy molars of mine when suddenly, I lost my footing on a bar of soap that I stand on (another of my time-saving manoeuvres) and I came tumbling down onto the slip mat. Slip is right, I thought, and would have made a note of that zinger had the toothbrush not become stuck in my windpipe. Choking, as I recall, I scrambled out of the tub and, knowing the house was empty because my wife Angie was at work, I rushed over to the neighbours’ apartment. Maybe they had air at their place, I thought. Sadly, I wasn’t quick enough; I was inches from their door when my body just couldn’t go anymore, and I collapsed on the landing floor. Luckily, I wasn’t naked; I had paused on the way to put on several pairs of pants. 

So that was it. Dead. Me. Me = Dead. Except it wasn’t how I expected. I mean, I wasn’t seeing all-nothing, or even all-black. In fact, I got up and saw myself, lying there, all-dead-and-all-soapy. “Ghost!”, I said. And I was right. I was a ghost. A ghost who got to hang around and see it all, as it unfolded over the next few hours: the neighbours finding me, the two police officers standing over my stiff, sud-ridden corpse. “What do you think, Sarge?” said the young one. “Another shower-sex hallway suicide?” “Don’t be stupid, kid” said the sergeant. “This guy’s wearing pants. I think we can chalk it up to a classic toothbrush-in-the-neck life hack gone wrong.”  “Good think I put on all those pants” I quipped, realising immediately that it was pointless because they couldn’t hear me. They couldn’t hear me! Damn, that was the deal, wasn’t it? You have to get all of the talking out of the way while you’re livin’. But there was so much I still needed to say about dyin’! This chin could be wagging forever, let me tell you. That’s some deal, huh? The one thing we all want to know about and here I am in the middle of it, with lips too stiff and dead to flap about it. How’s that for ass blastwards? So there I was, with a hell of a story to tell. And I knew there was only one person I’d be able to tell it to. 

Whoopi Goldberg. 

2. 

My grandma was dead. Is dead. She was dead, and now she is dead... again. Am I making sense here? She told me about the first time she died, back in the 90s. She was sucking on a Werther’s Original when it went down the wrong way and got stuck in her toaster and burned her house down. Lying on that hospital bed, she was legally dead for a good 27 minutes before they realised and resuscitated her (I think they were too busy watching some dumb Patrick Swayze movie on the communal television to notice). Thinking back, we all felt like she had gone crazy while she was dead, but now it seems there might have been some true-speak in all that wack-talk of hers. “If you ever die,” she once said to me as a kid, “If you die and you have to say something to a loved one, go to Whoopi Goldberg. I saw it. She helped me tell your grandfather he had soup on his good pants in the hospital, it was driving me crazy and was probably what set me off dying in the first place. I know it will work, son. If you need her, she’ll be there for you”. With those words in my ear, I packed a bag and headed out in search of Whoopi. 

I made it to the airport, and was having trouble scanning my passport with no corporeal form, when out of nowhere the whole room grew dim. People froze in motion, and there was an icy chill which took over the whole space. And then, a small light, like from the end of a tunnel, grew from behind the baggage claim. A screeching whistle came with it, before a train of bones roared past my face. The brakes braked, and as the bones ground to a halt out stepped a cloaked figure from the carriage. 

“Hello” he said. “You’re dead”. 

“I’m dead?” I asked. 

“You’re dead” he said. “And I’m Death.”

“You’re dead too?” I asked. 

“That’s right, I am Death” he said.

“Me too” I said. 

“I doubt it, kid” he said. “Anyway, sorry I’m late. There was some protest at Limbo station. All the staff walked out right after this demon... you know what? Not important. What is important is that you kicked your bucket. So hop on in, pup, next stop is your new forever home: Hell. OH. OH! That is, unless you want to play chess?” 

I turned away from the stranger. “Sorry, I don’t play that game… not anymore, that is.” I was kind of hoping that he would dig into my deep dark past relationship with the game of kings. 

“Suit yourself, friend” said Death. “Half the pieces are missing anyway. The one chess set on this hell train, you think these devil freaks are gonna put it back neatly? Fat chance. Anyhoodle, let’s get moving, up you come”. 

“I’m really going to Hell?”

“Yeah” said Death. “Frickin’ Hell City, USA. And unless you wanna effin’ play chess, kid, I don’t wanna hear any more fuckin’ back talk. Hop the eff on”. 

I couldn’t believe it. I had to escape; to re-live, and tell the tale of what death is like, and also what Death is like (note: make clear very handsome in second draft). A plan formed in my head, just like the plan to do a checkmate on the other guy forms in the head of a grand master chess player. “Oh, but Death,” I said “I really do want to play, but like you said we can’t play on that old set. It has no bishops”.  “That’s how we like it in Hell,” said Death, “it’s really more of a drinking game. Anyway, I take your point, kid; this chess board sucks. But where do you suggest we find a decent travel chess set at this hour, in this realm of existence? You got one in your great coat?” 

“No” I said. “But I think I have an idea. Let’s make a stop in… New York (maybe?)” 

3. 

Luckily, my plan worked out. I had managed to guess Whoopi Goldberg’s exact location: a Starbucks on 6th Avenue (note: check real place). I had also tricked Death into taking us there on the promise there’d be chess, and also he wanted a coffee. The train of bones crunched through the coffee shop window, shattering the glass and grinding the tables beneath it. Thankfully, this all played out in the dead dimension so it was totally fine. No one noticed. No one, that is, except Whoopi. 

“What the hell?!” she cried, jumping back from her table. 

“Whoopi,” I said climbing down, from the bone train, “you’ve got to help me. I’m dead and I know for an absolute fact you can send messages to the living.” 

“Oh I get it,” said Whoopi, “you think just because I played a medium in that movie that I can really talk to dead people?”

“Listen Whoopi, I’ve never even seen Sister Act, so please don’t assume I would be so irrational and quick to judge people like that. Instead of accusing me of stuff, how about you accept that you’re talking to a real ghost right now, and so therefore I am right.”

“Oh my God” said Whoopi. “I guess I can speak to ghosts. I guess all my years on The View have made me capable of speaking to anyone”. 

“Yeah: you, Jimmy Kimmel, Graham Norton… all supremely cursed folks. Talk-show hosting is a real double-edged sword. Back to me, though. Whoopi: can you call my wife and tell her I loved her? Oh, and also I won’t be able to make it to our Saturday UNO game for obvious reasons. Oh, oh, and that the obvious reasons are that I’m going to Hell on the bone train with Death. Sorry, so much has happened today, I forget to bring people up to speed.”

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice” said Whoopi. She closed her script for Sister Act 3 and opened up Skype, making a call to the account details I gave her. The little jingle played before a familiar voice answered. 

“Angie?” said Whoopi. “This is Whoopi Goldberg”

“And?” said my wife. 

“Angie, I’m calling on behalf of your departed husband.”

“Oh my god,” Angie said. “What has he done now?”

“He’s dead, actually,” explained Whoopi, “choked on a toothbrush before you got home. The police must have taken him away but stopped for lunch, so they’ve not gotten a chance to let you know about it. He wants you to know that he loves you, Angie. You were the best thing in his life. Doesn’t sound like tough competition for a man who loved toothbrushes and chess, but all the same, he wanted you to know.” 

“Cool, good to know” said Angie. “Hey, one second: does this mean that he’s talking with you right now?”

“Yeah,” said Whoopi “his spirit is here. Right now he’s looking at his hair in the window, even though he’s literally invisible.” 

“Well, if he’s really there,” said Angie, “I’ll ask him something only he would know and that will prove ghosts are real. What’s my favourite colour?” “Shit…” I said. “Uh, I dunno, green maybe”. 

“Uh, I dunno, green maybe” said Whoopi. 

“Wow, that’s spooky”, said Angie. “It’s actually purple, but that idiot always thinks it’s green. He even painted the house green for our anniversary. What a dunce. Ok, cool, tell him no worries. If he can make it home tonight for UNO, great, but I’ll not be holding my breath.” 

“Don’t worry, my wife,” I said. I have a plan”

“Don’t worry, his wife, he has a plan,” said Whoopi. 

“I’ll definitely not wait up then. Thanks Whoopi. We loved you in Sister Act by the way” said Angie, and hung up. 

“Ah, guess I have seen it,” I told Whoopi. “Well, thanks for your help. I guess there’s only one option left: I’m gonna have to kidnap and murder Death”. 

“Why don’t you just beat him at chess and win your life back, like in that movie?” asked Whoopi. 

“For the last time, Whoopi, I don’t remember Sister Act at all!” I said. “More to the point, I don’t play chess. Not after… that night.” I was kind of really hoping someone was gonna ask about the deep dark past thing. It’s not often I get to tell these stories. 

“Suit yourself, kid” said Whoopi. “I guess you’re going to Hell, then”. 

4. 

The bone train door slammed open. 

“Ok kid,” said Death, “it’s been 50 minutes now. Do they have my mocha frapp or what? Are we gonna play chess now, or what? Honestly? I kind of feel like you’re using me for some kind of plot thing that’s going on for too long, and I just want to play some games to take my mind off the fact that my job sucks forever. You + Me = Hell, RIGHT NOW.” 

Think fast, I thought, at a normal thought-speed. Suddenly, it hit me. 

“Alright, Death. Time to play, for my very soul.” 

“Sweet,” said Death. 

“But not at chess.” 

“Ah, Jeez!” Death groaned.

“No, I could never play chess again. It’s actually a really cool and dark story that I haven’t had a chance to tell, but maybe I could tell it if…” “Yeah, yeah, what’s the game, kid?” said Death, doing the wrap-up-the-story hand gesture with his bone-fingers. 

I pulled a pack of cards from my great coat pocket (as in, the coat pocket is really great, it’s just a regular modern fashionable coat). 

“UNO?!” cried Death. “Kid, you really are going to Hell.” 

“Not if I can help it,” I said. “I was taught by the best: my wife. She made me the player I am today. And she takes no prisoners. So yes, Death. I’d wager my life on the back of her teaching”. 

Death pulled up a table, and leaned his scythe against the coat rack.

“Whatever, dude. Just deal ‘em out.” 

I played Death best of three. Best of three is right, I thought. More like the best three games of my life, let me tell you. They had to be, given what was at stake. We tied one-to-one. Death learned the game so fast, and he was soon a worthy competitor. It was down to the knuckle, which was unfair given his were so much more visible. We were down to two cards each, and it was his turn. I had to pull it out, but these last two cards were the worst I could have had. He slammed down a green 3. 

“This is it, kid. This next card’s a ticket to Satan’s ass. STANDARD CLASS.” 

I flipped a yellow 3. 

“UNO,” I declared, “and guess what, Death? You were so busy sassing me, you forgot to say UNO yourself, so you have to PICK UP.” 

Death shuddered realising his mistake. 

“What?! No!” he cried. “Ah, fuck this game! Why couldn’t we have played Demon Party Drunk Chess anyway. Oh my god, these cards suuuuuck!” 

The last card was one of those wild cards you can write on. “I’m done, Death. And my custom rule is that you have to give me my soul and my life back.” 

“The game’s over kid. Also, I don’t think that’s a real rule you can make anyway. But a bet is a bet.” He waved his hand, doing cool Death magic or something. “Now get back to living before I do something I regret”. 

I felt my spirit form fading as I regained my life inside my body. It looked kind of like that scene with Marty McFly in Back To The Future where he’s almost erased from existence. 

“Wow,” I said. “This is just like that movie”. 

“Yep.” said Death, walking away sulkily. “Just like Sister Act.” 

“Thanks for everything” I said. “So long.”

“You know, it is a shame. I would have liked to play with you again. But I don’t have friends much anymore. Things have been a little tough since the whole… incident.” 

“Suit yourself, kid" I said, vanishing into the air. 

“Oh well I guess I could stop by now that you mention it, ok thanks, see you and your wife tonight at 8??” 

Damn, I thought. My body had left that realm, but his words followed me. I guess it wouldn’t be the worst date I had in my life! I thought (man I gotta write these zingers down). “See you then, Death” I whispered, my voice going all ethereal. “See you then.” 

5. 

I woke up in the ground, soil trickling onto a cheap coffin the cops had stuffed me in. Weeping, some folks were throwing handfulls of dirt into the hole where I was lying. I didn’t recognise them, I think they just wanted a day out at the graves. I bust through the lid of that thing like it was cardboard, and climbed out. “Come on guys” I said, pushing off the coffin lid. “You gotta throw more dirt on than that, I haven’t got all day. If you give me a shovel I’ll get it done much faster.” And I did. And when I was done filling my own grave, I walked home, knocked on my door, and was met by my beautiful Angie. “Boy, did I miss you” I said, shaking her hand in a friendly manner. 

“You have soap in your hair” she said. 

“I know. And soil in my shoes babe, it’s a weird combination. But there’s also love in my heart. And if you’ll have me, I am ready for UNO. Speaking of which, I may have invited a friend along…” 

So there you have it. That’s how me and my wife Angie got ourselves a weekly dinner date with Death, of underworld fame. And you know what? It’s a lot of fun having him round. It can be hard to make friends as a couple, and he’s a good guy. Even though I sometimes worry a little too much about our fate beyond this lifetime, every time I hear that screechin’ bone-train a-comin’, I smile knowing it will all be ok. In fact, I think I hear it coming now…

…ok never mind, it was just my wife screamin’ at me again. 

[multiplefandomfics]

Last call part 2

And i also wrote a part two to this because my friend really wanted me to and i had this awesome idea. Simply enjoy!

Pairings: Jeff x reader

Warnings: angst, pregnancy, panic attack

Words: 1547

It had been weeks since the con and you had gone home and back to your normal life as usual. Getting up in the mornings and pushing yourself to go to your boring bureau job. But lately it had gotten harder to do so. You felt queasy and you had terrible mood swings. And what hurt you the most was that he hadn't even bothered calling you. You had switched numbers but you wanted him to call first otherwise you would just feel like a stupid fangirl who has a crush on a celebrity who doesn't even know your name.

On a Thursday evening you had another phone call with your friend.

"What the hell are you eating? I can bear it crunching through the speakers." She laughed suddenly.

"Sorry. It's pickles and vinegar chips. I was hungry." You mumbled mouth full.

"Eww are you pregnant?" She asked jokingly but that made you stop dead in your tracks. When was the last time you had been on your period? Two months, maybe more. And the mood swings, the strange taste and the puking. It all fit. While thinking you had stayed very quiet and your friend had noticed. "Did I say something wrong?"

"On the contrary. I think you could be right! Oh God no! This can't be happening to me!" You started to feel a panic attack rising so she tried to calm you. "You mean you could be pregnant? From him? But that is great. It's a reason to contact him. He will be fine with it or at least he'll pay." She encouraged you. "Breath okay. Deep breaths. Don't panic yet you don't even know it for sure." She was right again so you did the breathing exercises you had learned and then drank some water.

"You should call your gynecologist, get an appointment." She suggested.

"You're right I'm gonna do that first thing in the morning."

You talked for another hour or so and then hung up.

The next morning you called your doctor and got an appointment immediately because someone had jumped off last minute.

You made your way to the office at 4pm that same day and fortunately didn't have to wait long.

"So Miss Y/L/N, you assume that you are pregnant and would like me to confirm it?" Your doctor asked. She was quite young but very polite.

"Yes please. I didn't have my period in over two months and I'm eating strange things and have to puke for no reason a few times a week. So better get it checked." You reported.

"Alright my nurse has already taken a blood sample from you and I'm gonna do an ultrasound now. If you're really over 8 weeks pregnant we should be able to see something. So hop on the table." She was really considerate.

You laid down and pulled your shirt up so she could get started. The seconds ticked by and it felt like hours until she finally opened her mouth again. "You were right. Congratulations you are indeed pregnant about 10 weeks. You want me to print you a nice picture?"

Your world shattered with those few words and you were completely lost.

"Miss Y/L/N. Are you alright?" She had noticed you completely zoning out.

"Ehm, yes I'd like a picture please and I'm good. Just a little much right now." You smiled at her hesitantly.

She handed you the picture and issued you a mother pass. "Please get yourself a new appointment in about 4 weeks for another check up and I'll see you then." She bid you goodbye and you left.

Outside you sat in your car and suddenly started crying. It was all so unbelievably stupid. Sleeping with a celebrity and getting knocked up in that process. How dumb could you have been?? As if on cue your phone rang. It was your best friend.

"Hey sweetie are you out? I've been waiting for your call." She sounded distressed but so were you.

"Y/F/N it's true. I'm really pregnant." You cried harder again.

"Oh darling I'm sorry. Maybe it's time you called him. He deserves to know." She was right.

"Alright I'm gonna call him. If I don't do in immediately I probably never will. Call you later." You said.

"Sure good luck."

You sat another minute there staring at his contact profile on your screen and then hit dial.

It rang 3 times before he picked up.

"Morgan, hello?" His deep voice was music to your ears.

"Eh hey. It's Y/N. Remember from comic Con? We had a thing and you never called! I just wanted to to let you know that I'm pregnant and it is yours." You rambled because you were afraid if he said one thing more you were gonna break.

"What? Wow seems like we weren't really careful." You could almost hear the smile on his face.

You hated that he was kidding with you.

"Is this a joke to you? I'm freaking out here because I fear I'll have to raise a kid on my own and you make jokes about not having used protection! What is wrong with you?" Your voice boomed louder and the longer you talked the angrier you got. He was unbelievable. A big child!

"I'm sorry darling. I didn't wanna hurt you. You just really sprung heavy news on me and I disguise panic usually with sarcasm. You know what? I'm coming to you. You can't settle something like this over the phone. I'll grab the next flight and be there in a few hours. Text you with the details." He didn't even wait until you had come up with an answer before he'd hung up. Perplexed you stared at your display and 10 minutes later came a message with the flight plan and arrival time at the airport near you. You had 12 hours to clean home and mentally prepare yourself for the meeting.

Rushing home you went for a small grocery run to maybe be able to prepare some food when he arrived.

That night you tossed and turned in your bed until you fell into a sleep full of nightmares of him leaving you or denying that the kid was his. It was almost a relief when finally your alarm rang and you got ready to get him from the airport.

The ride you spent with thinking about how to argue with him and how this could possibly turn out but that only concerned you more.

Arrived at the airport you walked over to the waiting hall and when you saw that his flight had just landed you felt the panic rise again but you pushed it down with the words everything's gonna be fine.

And then you saw him. He had a bag slung across his broad shoulders and was walking straight toward you though he looked tired. He probably slept as bad as you had.

"Hey sweetheart. How are you feeling?" He hugged you tight.

"I actually don't know. How was the flight?" You asked back.

"Was okay. Let's get out of here first before the fans come swarming in. I can't deal with too many right now. Just wanna get off the radar." He grumbled tired.

"Alright. My car's that way." You pointed to your right.

The car ride home was even worse than the one to the pick-up. It was deathly silent at first. No one said a word until you had almost reached your destination.

"So… what do you have in mind how we are supposed to do this?" You wanted to know.

"Maybe some breakfast first? I can't do that without coffee and something inside my stomach." He turned those puppy dog eyes toward you and you caved immediately.

"Alright we'll get something."

An hour later you arrived at your house with take out breakfast and lots of coffee for him and tea for you.

Sitting down at your kitchen table you finally started to talk about the baby.

"I definitely wanna keep it. With or without your help. One thing first I don't need your help I have enough here. So if you decide you don't mind Anna be involved in this kid's life then I won't blame you. You have a career to lose after all." You began.

"What are you talking about? I don't care what people think. I want this baby with you. And I would like you to move in with me. My farm is big enough. I like you a lot and maybe there is something developing between us and I'd like to get into that." That surprised you a lot.

"Are you serious about that? Me moving in with you and you taking care of the baby?" You were close to tears in that moment.

"Of course. I'm deadly serious. I want all of you. What do you say?" He looked at you expectantly.

"I think not having to raise this little bundle of joy alone is a real relief. So thank you for that!" He embraced you again.

7 months later a healthy baby boy was born and you named him (Your name of choice).

[sending-the-message]

The Satisfaction Room by StrangeAccounts

“Should we give it a shot?” Emma asked letting her eyes trail over the small leaflet in her hand. We had just gotten married and found ourselves on a little road trip that landed us in New Orleans. Our goal was to live in the moment for a few weeks before settling down in a cheap ramshackle apartment and starting our new life together. It was our one last hurrah before reality needed to slip back in.

That little pamphlet in my wife’s hands belonged to Ivan’s Nighttime Swamp tour. We had picked it up at a small curio shop full of advertisements for other tourist attractions.

The paper read:

‘Come to Ivan’s Nighttime Swamp Tour! Join a small group of fellow explorers with our 15 person airboat tour. Or, if you’re feeling romantic, for only $25 more a ticket, take a ride on our personal 2 person cruise.

Requirements: Must be married and under 30 years of age. Please call in advance’

“Well if we’re going to do it we might as well do it right” I gave a soft laugh and Emma looked up at me beaming.

“So you’re saying the romantic tour?” she asked as more of a statement than a question.

“Of course.” And with our plan decided we left the tiny shack of a curio shop.

We were halfway to our car when I pulled out my phone and dialed in the number listed at the bottom of the sheet.

“Hello?” The man on the other end of the line had a strong eastern European accent, fitting for someone named Ivan.

“Hi, is this Ivan’s Nighttime Swamp Tour?” I asked before continuing on.

“Of course! Which tour are you signing up for?” the man on the other end of the line sang out in a pleasant voice.

“My wife and I were actually looking into the two person tour if that’s possible.”

“Ah, yes. First I must ask, do you love her?” he asked in a playful manner.

“Well, yeah, I wouldn’t have married her if I didn’t.” I laughed at the oddness of his question.

“Perfect, I’ll get it all set up then. You’ll take off at 9pm, an hour before the main tour. Be sure to be there at least 15 minutes early.”

“Sounds good, do you need my credit card number or anything?” There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.

“No, we’ll get all that during the tour. Enjoy the rest of your day to the fullest my friend.”

And with that he hung up. I put my phone back in my pocket just as Emma and I stopped at our car’s doors.

“All set up?” She asked peeping over the roof at me.

“Yup.”

“Good” she cooed as she hopped in the car, me following in tow.

Eventually the sun had begun settling over New Orleans and we had found ourselves on our way towards the swamp tour. About 20 minutes driving through rural wetlands we passed a sun bleached and weather worn sign reading ‘Next right, Ivan’s Swamp Tours.’

We pulled off on a dirt road and parked. The sun had just crested the horizon as I shut my car off, the sound of my engine was replaced by the songs of birds chirping and frogs croaking. Those noises paired with the pink and blue cloudless sky led to a certain kind of powerful feeling, the feeling of peace.

When we exited our car we noticed that only one other vehicle had paired with ours in that empty lot, a green 1990’s Ford f150 with large white lettering advertising Ivan’s business.

“It’s already worth the money.” Emma mused as she shut the car door. The sound had barely dented the local wildlife’s melody.

“Well alright then, let’s hop back in the car and save a few dollars.” I glanced over at my wife trying to hold back a coy smile. Her expression clearly told me she wasn’t having any of it. “Fine, let’s go find a worker.”

We walked off of the graveled parking lot following a well-used dirt path. It took us towards the water’s edge. I looked over at the trees surrounding the trail and noticed how seamlessly they transitioned themselves from the ground into the water. Spanish moss draped over the branches like a curtain, hiding the rest of the swamp.

A lanterns light broke me from my ogling. I turned my head and fixated a bit further down the path towards the light and saw a dock. On one end was a large airboat, clearly meant to hold a large group of people, on the other was the small three person vessel. Standing mid dock next to the smaller boat was a middle aged and slender man talking on the phone. I could only assume that was Ivan.

The man just happened to look down towards the path as we were approaching. His face lit up.

“Oh they’re here!” Ivan shouted, phone still pressed against his cheek. “Wonderful, I’ll talk to you soon.” With a quick motion he hung up the phone and pocketed it. “Welcome my friends!” He walked towards us with a bounce in his step. I could almost taste the excitement radiating off of him.

“Hey, I’m assuming your Ivan?” I asked as he flung his hand out before I could even finish my question. With a swift movement he wrapped both of his hands around mine and shook.

“Yes, yes, and you must be married couple?” He let go of my hand to gently shake Emma’s.

“Yup, that’s my wife Emma and my names John.” His eyes examined us up and down and he nodded quietly to himself.

“Well its nice meeting you both.” With a quick flick of his wrist he directed us over to his small boat. We walked with him onto the rickety old dock, the creaking of ancient wood joined the chorus of wildlife.

He settled one of his feet in the airboat and the other on the dock, extending a hand to help us climb aboard. “Please take a seat lovebirds.”

I let Emma climb aboard first, he gingerly held her hand like a princesses as she took her seat. Next up was me. The small boat lurched in the slightest way as I settled myself in. I felt like this whole process was a little rushed.

“When would you like the payment? I feel like we might have skipped a few steps.” I looked over to Ivan who was undoing some ropes from the wooden beams of the dock.

“Don’t worry about the payment until we’ve gotten back.” With as much charm as he could muster up, he turned and grinned at me. It took a few moments of preparation but eventually the fan blades of the boat began twirling to life. The tour was just beginning to start.

Ivan settled into his ferryman’s seat behind us, guiding our path forward.

“Right next to you both are your own personal spotlights, feel free to use them however much you’d like. Free of charge.” I felt my side get nudged, I turned and looked at Emma who was holding back a smile and rolling her eyes at Ivan’s remarks.

I turned my head away from Emma and looked over toward my end of the boat, a small spotlight lay on a swivel. I let my hands trail around its base until I found its switch and turned it on. A circular light illuminated the swamp water just off to the side of me. I could see the rippling murky green water clear as day. With a small click, Emma’s light joined mine.

“Woah, it’s beautiful out here.” she muttered. I turned my head to see her panning the light over the sparse population of thin trees and bundles of cattails.

“What lives out here?” I asked over the sounds of the swamp. I trailed my light over the water and could see a few bubbles popping up to the surface.

“Everything you can imagine. Frogs, turtles, otters and of course alligators. But don’t worry, we won’t be swimming.” He gave a chuckle, letting his hands rest on the controls of the boat. We were traveling at a slow pace through the waters but even so, in the dark I already couldn’t make out the dock.

The swamp had engrossed us more and more as we traversed further in. With every swivel of my light I had caught a glimpse of a turtle or fish cresting the surface of the water. Everything seemed to be alive.

My wife and I had found ourselves caught in a game of ‘look what I found.’ Every once in a while one of us would chirp up ‘oh look, look!’ to have the other glance over and see some type of critter mucking about in the waters.

After she caught a glimpse of a family of Nutria burrowing into a tree I knew I had to find something interesting to keep up. I grabbed my light and redirected it upwards towards the treetops hoping to find a bird. Instead I caught a glimpse of something else.

There was a dark shape resting in the tree branches above us, I couldn’t make out to many details but it was large, and looked like it was huddled over on itself. I saw two reflective eyes staring right back at me, glowing from the shine of the spotlight.

“What is-” I was quickly interrupted by Ivan reaching over and slamming my light back down to the water.

“An owl, very large. Light hurts their eyes so please keep your spotlights on the water. We don’t want to upset them” His voice sounded nervous. One hand was still on his controls but the other cradled something around his neck, it looked like a necklace.

I sent my gaze over to Emma who had seen the whole thing. Her eyebrows shifted, confused about what just happened. I just shrugged my shoulders and kept my light low like I was instructed.

It was about 30 minutes into our trip when we hit a large clearing. A dark outline of a ferryboat rested dead center in the open water. It’s silhouette outlined by the moon that rested just behind it.

“What’s that?” I asked as our boat slowly crested closer to the ship. At this point I had noticed the sounds from the swamp had completely dissipated into near perfect silence. The only sounds that remained were the sounds of waves slowly lapping against the underside of our boat. I had the feeling that something very wrong was about to happen. Once we were about 25 yards away from the old ferry Ivan stopped.

“Just fellow coworkers. Can you do me a favor and flash your spotlights at them? I just want to make sure they’re still awake.” I gave an awkward laugh before pointing the spotlight at the vessel. It was nearly the size of a home, much too big for the swamp we were in.

It was when my light hit the deck that I saw several shapes of people dressed in all black wearing masks and hoods. They were watching our approach. Before I could even process what that meant, floodlights rained down from above blinding both Emma and myself with an impenetrable light. Within a fraction of the same second loud speakers crackled to life all around us hidden in the swamp.

A deafening song began blaring, consuming everything.

‘I can't get no, sat-is-faction, I can't get no, sat-is-faction’

I tried yelling out ‘Ivan get out of here, please, I can’t think straight’ but even I couldn’t hear one syllable of my own voice over the ear popping music.

I didn’t even feel anything as my world began to darken around me. I could scarcely make out Ivan’s outline in the intense light, two syringes in each of his hands, one facing me and the other facing my wife. It took all my effort but I managed to crane my head over to look over to see my wife’s slumped over body, limp and lifeless.

‘I can't get no, oh, no, no, no, hey, hey, hey That's what I say'

I don’t know how my body fought off the drugs for so long but it did. Long enough to hear that same song repeat two times over. Long enough to feel our small boat being docked by a few men. Long enough to see an old goateed man in a clinical white coat hand Ivan a large stack of money.

But not long enough for anything else.

My mind filled with darkness and for a while I escaped that bleached colored nightmare.

The next thing I remember was the feeling of small hands grinding and pushing their way into my sides. My eyelids managed to peel their way open. They so desperately wanted to close again and slip back into the medical coma I had just awoken from.

“John, please wake up. I need you, please John.” My heavy eyes shifted over to my wife's frightened face. She looked horrified, her skin clammy and pale. That was all my body needed to pump out enough endorphin's to wake me up.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” I muttered, doing my best to sit up, my head was spinning. I cradled my skull in my hands waiting for the room to stop shifting around me.

“I don’t know, I woke up a few minutes ago. All I can remember was the boat ride, some lights and a song. After that everything went black.” I felt my head get a little clearer as my blood began circulating again.

“Jesus, okay. I’m going to go over to the door and see if someone can tell us what’s happening.” I swung my legs off of the bed and tried focusing on the room. Four white walls encompassed us, their colors offset by dim overhead lights. We would have been no better with candlesticks lighting up the room. The only other things of note in the cramped little space we found ourselves in was a metal door in the corner on the far wall. Across from that was a plain metal toilet with no seat.

“Come on, it’s obvious, we’ve been kidnapped. We’re so fucked.” I looked at my wife and saw her break down, tears careened off of her face. She had far more time to process this than I did. At that moment all I knew was I needed to be there for her.

“it’s okay, it’s okay. We’re still together. They wouldn’t keep us together if this was something really bad.” I reached out and embraced Emma, it’s all I could do.

We sat like that for hours until the sounds of a metallic screeching came from the far corner of the room. A large food tray slid under a small grate at the base of the door. A generous portion of eggs, toast, bacon, orange juice and milk rested on the tray.

This is when the flip in my head switched. I felt angry, I wanted out.

“Hey,” I called out, yelling at the door, “What the hell do you guys want? Money? I’ve got some. Let me pay you.”

No response.

“We’re just a couple of kids, alright? We’ve got debts we need to pay off. We can only offer so much but you can take it all.”

Still nothing.

I got up from the bed and headed straight towards the door. I balled up my hand and slammed my fist on the metal with nothing more than a small thud. I could feel that metal was heavy and thick, whoever was on the other side of that door wouldn’t hear me no matter what I did.

Before I knew it Emma was standing right next to me. We both sat down at the base of the door and waited. We didn’t eat or talk, we just hopped they’d open the latch and we’d be able to do something.

But they never did.

We eventually got tired of sitting. I couldn’t tell you if we waited there for 6 hours or 20. There was no way to keep time in the room. In fact besides the bed and the bathroom there was absolutely nothing in the room at all.

Once we settled back down on the only furniture we had, another tray of food slid from under the door. Some grilled salmon, potatoes and herbal tea.

We ate it all.

We began using our meals as a way to tell time. There were three parts to each day, breakfast, lunch and dinner. That was the only way we knew what time of day lay outside our white walled hell.

It took days or weeks, or maybe even months but we got used to our routine. We stopped trying to fight, to make a mess of things, to break out. There was no point. I won’t describe the wasted hours trying too bust down the door or break apart a wall. We tried everything. At the end of the day we were trapped but we were together.

We found ourselves at each other’s throats but also closer than we had even been before. We were both in a shitty situation but we were in it together.

We passed our time playing games of imaginary tic-tac-toe on the floor, then once that became boring, we tried hangman and so on and so on. Once we hit our limits of childish games we began to talk. We found out every little dirty secret and lie about each other. There was nothing left to hide, nothing left to do.

And when two people are both stressed out of their minds and happen to be in love with nothing but a bed, they find themselves doing things. Things happened.

We made love.

The first two weeks after that went by normal. We went back to our imaginary games, sleeping at all hours and eating what was given to us. We went back to our normal routine, that routine was the only thing keeping us slightly sane in that hole.

But that routine was broken when a pregnancy test slid from under the door along with our breakfast.

I looked at Emma and her eyes glazed over.

Her world was crumbling.

For the longest time we had convinced ourselves that it was only us here. We might have been trapped but we had each other and no one else needed to exist. Now we knew better. They could see everything in our little white room and we were never alone.

“Emma,” I began.

“John don’t talk to me right now.” her eyes were fixated on the test. I could feel the tension coming off of her.

I gave her as much space as I could.

I didn’t speak to her.

I didn’t speak to her as she walked over and grabbed the test.

I didn’t speak to her as she waited for the results.

I didn’t speak to her as she dropped the test on the floor and stared at the wall.

I did, however, walk over to the test and see the positive symbol.

“What are we going to do John? I can’t be pregnant here.” she whispered, defeated.

I opened my mouth to respond just as the overhead lights erupted with energy. The room bleached itself in lights just as bright as the night that we were taken. Sure enough, within seconds afterwards, the same song came back on with earsplitting intensity.

I fell to my knees and covered my ears, curling myself up into a ball. I can’t describe the pain of existing in such quiet emptiness for so long just to have piercing music sprout to life without warning.

I didn’t black out though, there was no medication involved this time. I just felt burly large hands wrap around my shoulders and bring me up to my feet. I was shoved out of the room into the vast darkness outside.

For the first time in months I felt the warm, muggy fresh air hit me.

Those big hands tossed me to the ground near a railing. I heard the sloshing of water just a few feet below me just on the other side of the rails. We were still on a boat.

“Stand up.” The voice said. I opened up my eyes and looked next to me expecting to see Emma. She wasn’t there.

“I said stand up.” The voice commanded. I looked over at them and saw a large man in a black shirt and jeans. A skin tight black mask covered his face.

“Where’s Emma?” My voice cracked. I can’t explain how alone I felt in that moment. Emma was my world. She was all I had for so long.

“Last warning, stand up.” The man growled. With my legs shaking under me I stood up. I put all my weight against the handrails and steadied myself.

“Now face me.” I did as I was told and turned my body towards the man. A glimmer of something black rested in his hands and pointed at me. I heard three loud bangs and felt myself fall backwards, headfirst into the water below.

I felt myself, my very essence, escape that night. I went from seeing bubbling water wrapping around me to absolute darkness.

I couldn’t believe it when I opened my eyes. I was sure I was dead.

Yet somehow I had washed up on a tree branch that jutted just out of the water.

I tried lifting my arm and pulling myself out of the muck but instead felt an indescribable amount of pain. I looked down and saw two holes just under my left shoulder. Necrosis had already began to set in.

The murky, stagnant and bacteria ridden water had started a massive infection. Blackened dead skin molded away forming into the foreign holes in my body. With my right hand I quickly felt around my face, looking for the third shot. Sure enough I found it. A small grove in my scalp had burrowed itself in. Luckily the bullet had only grazed me.

Unluckily I had no idea where I was.

I had no current to guide me in the deadened water. The only thing I had was the sun. It had broken through the horizon and was rising so I knew where east was. If I knew east than I knew north.

For the next two days I crawled and swam at a snail’s pace. The further north I went the more wildlife I stumbled across. I had hoped that was a good sign.

I don’t know how I did it but two days straight of dog paddling, dragging and lurching myself forward let me hit landfall. I crawled up the shore and heard the sounds of cars zooming by just up ahead. I scrounged up all my energy and made my way towards them.

I couldn’t see anymore, I was driven by pure instinct. Inch by inch I moved towards the sounds and once I felt one of my hands hit pavement I fell unconscious.

I woke up some time later in another bed surrounded by white walls.

A hospital.

My chest felt like it had been carved open and my head was wrapped in gauze. I was in more pain then I have ever experienced in my life.

But behind that physical pain I felt something more.

Separation.

My heart began racing as I thought back to Emma. She hadn’t made it out. I heard the heart monitor next to me begin beeping loudly. My vision tunneled and got cloudy, a nurse popped her head into my room and looked at me. She looked startled.

“Hey, someone get the Doctor, he’s awake.”

She rushed in the room and began telling me to calm down and gave me some medication through an IV.

I felt my body relax.

“Someone found you on the side of the road a few days ago. You’re lucky to be alive. You’re going to be okay though, the hardest parts over.” She gave a smile.

Next to her on a table was a card. I nodded towards it as best as I could.

“Oh, someone dropped that off for you, it’s a Father’s Day card. You just missed it, it was a few days ago. I’m sure your child’s going to be happy you’re okay.”

I felt a tear trickle down my face. They knew I was alive.

Today is my last day of recovery. I told the police everything but I don’t know how much good that’ll do. My Doctor, Dr. Hargrove, is doing his best to make sure I pull through as best as I can. The infections did a number on my system.

I’m writing this because I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, but if anyone ever sees my wife Emma, please tell her I love her. I’ll never stop until I find her.

SA

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

The Problem with MSM

So I honestly don't have many followers. I'm also prone to going on tangents. And most of my posts are rooted in politics. Not by choice mind you. I was not the one that decided literally everything in existence is political. I'm also not the one that created the view points that want everything to be political. TL;DR At the bottom.

To start off however, I need you to understand the process of radicalization.

Find someone who feels discontent with how a situation is, or how their life is

Tell this person that what's happening to them is not their fault

Place the blame for this person's problems on a certain group (political group, racial group, religious group, etc.)

Talk to the person like you know how they feel, "drop your guard" and tell them "problems you've had that were not your fault" blaming that same group

Show them that they are either a victim or oppressed in some way, shape, or form.

Slowly start swaying their views further to the extreme, by showing them other instances of "others who are being attacked or are victims" of said group.

Promptly but softly oppose any "differing views" with warped information or flat out lies

Get them to start going to events and taking to others that have already been radicalized

Have you and another radicalized individual, keep track of this person and say you support them and their issues

Sit back and watch

Now this is a rough lost but more or less the bare bones basics of radicalizing other people. Though in some cases it takes more steps and in some others it takes less. So what does this have to do with MSM (Mainstream Media)? Quite a few things in modern day actually.

The job of MSM is to get you information, as fast as humanly possible. This however was not the first goal priority in the past. In the past, the first priority was to cover a story as factually as the could, and look for more information keeping people constantly updated. Here we get to our first real problem for Media today. Technology. The Advent of modern technology has been both a blessing and a curse in this regard. And of course I'm talking about the internet in its current form. The internet being the very center of information distribution in 2019. And it has been for almost 12 years now.

So what did this change? Basically everything we know today. "Old wives tales" are now a Google search away. Feeling sick? WebMD says you have Cancer. Looking for the next hour story? Check CNN's Twitter account. The Internet brought us a great, many things. But it has taken away just as many. MSM has had to slowly move operations into social media in order to try and stay relevant. This because many people have unplugged, and have gone full digital. The only real exceptions being places of business. And with the world at your finger tips at the clock of a button, being factual has lost its relevance. Not to mention that as far back as 2013-2014 activists started working for MSM companies. Most notably progressive activists. This causes many problems we currently see today. Below is an example of what a headline used to look like, and what most headlines look like now:

Normal headline: Shooting in Birmingham leaves 3 dead and several injured during city wide festival.

Headline now: White, Trump supporter, Nazi, KKK, skin head, punches 2 people in hate crime.

See the difference? The first headline shows the basic facts and dives into known details during the article. Often they'd avoid opinions all together. The second one one the other hand, blatantly discloses anything that could generate clicks. Why? Because true or not, outrage sells. So over the past several years, MSM has been slowly radicalizing us. But they do this on a bipartisan level.

Are you black? The cops will kill you, and the white man is evil. Can't find a job? Racism. Are you a woman? Then you're unhappy because "rape culture". Do you regret having sex with that guy? Well guess what? He actually raped you without you realizing. Are you white? You're evil. Are you strait? You're a monster and should give all your money to gay people. Are you a man? You are responsible for every rape ever committed. You're also a pedophile and violent. Are you a strait white man? Oh boy you won the jackpot because you're basically Hitler.

See my point here? MSM spends most of it's time trying to rage bait you into clicking their articles. And in doing so we've gotten so lazy as a country that half the time, we don't even read past the headlines. And MSM knows this. They don't care if you read what they write. They are just radicalizing you so they can keep feeding you outrage. Because the more often they do it, the more often you will click it, skim all of 3 lines and then hop on Twitter and talk about how outraged you are. Sure, we are just as to blame for letting it happen to us, but most of us used to have at least some trust in the media. But after SEVERAL severely awfully false hit pieces that were headline news for almost months, many of us have started staying away from MSM.

What incidents might I be talking about?

Covington Catholic controversy (Almost every media outlet took a 7 second clip and ran with it. Turns out, there was a full 2hr video out there, and the Native American man, whom CNN interviewed, lied his ass off. Most media also chose to ignore the VERY beginning of the video which showcased a group called The Black Hebrew Israelites. These individuals, called Trump a homosexual, called the Native Americans there "Uncle Tomahawk", and said Gay people should not have rights. THESE CATHOLIC STUDENTS, were appalled by this statement. But what did we see in the media? "Racist Maga hat kid threatens and blocks the path of a Poor innocent Native American man."

Duke Lacrosse. Years after these kids were crucified by the Media and many others, the girl actually came out saying it never happened. You know who reported on this? Next to no one.

Ferguson. Now as controversial as this one is, the media took and RAN with it. What followed after the skewed coverage was a cult like gathering that led to phrases like, "hands up don't shoot" and "oink oink, bang bang". But Obama had the issue federally investigated. Both witnesses and the coroner report said basically the same thing. That he was aggressively wrestling with the cop trying to take his gun. But, it's too late. Now all cops are evil, and Democrat politicians are quoting it like it happened yesterday, and claiming the cop guilty. Why? Because MSM already got what they needed. They radicalized the individuals they wanted, people who will come back to them for, "facts".

And what does all of this boil down to? A video that made me write this out.

2 things need to be said here. 1. The "manifesto" as it were, was actually debunked to have been uploaded by the shooter, by the site admin himself. As well as several other sources. 2. If, by some chance the manifesto was real, and he had someone upload it for him, he mentions several liberal talking points, like universal basic income, saving the environment, among other left policies.

But this brings me back to both the beginning and to this story. Assuming for a moment, the manifesto was his. How did this happen? Most of you might just jump and say, "RACIST NAZIS", or something slightly more colorful. But here is the thing. MSM is partly responsible for all of this. Assuming the conspiracy that the CIA or FBI is responsible is false, I agree with the YouTuber in the picture. I believe that if you belittle and berate someone enough over time, you can cause them to do extreme things. I mean look at this site. Look at Twitter. Look at MSM. "White people bad", "white people are evil" "K*LL all whites" "white privilege", "fuck men", "male tears", "man spreading", "mansplaining", "Yes all men". All of this. This is popular. This is a trend. And it's unacceptable. Because frankly, it's basically bullying someone into a corner. Personally? I've been told by a few companies that are scared of social justice warriors and the online hate mob, that their company is actively not hiring white individuals. And I wish, REALLY WISH, I was making that up.

Is it any wonder, that people who go to the internet as an escape end up in a low point in their lives and then decide to do something awful? And it's the same with school shootings too. The news puts out, the name, ethnicity, how tall they are, and their entire life story, for weeks at a time. And now for much longer, because they support the desire to ban guns. So they need these things to happen more often. So the glorify the shooter, and keep talking about him/them for months. But here is where the story gets fun.

Columbine's shooting, was actually supposed to be a bombing. The kids who did it? Not the "school losers" the media talked about. The trench coat club? They were not even apart of it. More info on that here. As well as other places on Google.

More or less This video covers what the media got wrong in their rush to cover everything. What they did not intend on, was making these two boys heros to those bullied in school. Mostly boys, who are torn down and told they aren't enough, that they don't matter, they are isolated, bullied, harassed. So they look for someone who stood up to their bullies. What they were given, was a sociopath who manipulated a suicidal boy into helping him commit mass murder. Almost all of MSM were quick to say they were bullied into it. What's worse however, is Parkland. The Parkland 5, (the students whom MSM propped up for months) one of them came out admitting, that she bullied the guy who shot up the school. Said he was weird and that she needed to do it. This is one of the teens the media has PROPPED UP, saying we should listen to their infinite wisdom. A girl who is probably half responsible for the shooting.

Start paying attention. Start doing research. And for the love of all that is holy, STOP BULLYING PEOPLE! I don't care what your narrative is, or what it means. IE:

White people are human

Black people are human

Hispanic people are human

Gay people are human

Strait people are human

Women are human

Men are human

Stop normalizing anything to the contrary. Because when you do, you become part of the problem.

TL;DR The media only cares about themselves and clicks. They don't care who they radicalize, so long as you keep giving them traffic. Which for them is money. Do your research, look into things, and don't bully people. I'm looking at you progressives.