#I gotta mass follow all the people I follow everywhere else

[undecided-musician]

I haven’t been on here in over a year. Yeesh.

[renatedagmarmilada]

The Misuse of Power-

JULY POETRY

 July- The face of british humanity

but when asked to test for USA

British Humanity died!

 when Anna of the lab St Barths Human Research

which is supposed to care for the retarded

dies and no longer has power of the ‘Machine’

Marshal Law will come to England

to sort everything out

again

they say..

 Until then

England will run wild and lawless

as she wills

as Anna of the lab St Baths Human Research

knows all the secrets

of all those at the top

 the care for the retarded

changed to manipulating

the People.......

 for the guy

who told me

we don't want to know your business

 it is not about my business

it is about what government departments

do to ordinary citizens

if they are helpless

 for years I wrote beautiful stuff

hinting by innuendo of what was happening

no one listened

a lot printed

but no one had the sense to look deeper

 so now I let you have it straight

which is all a woman can do

no innuendoes anymore

no guessing

those are the facts straight-

but then if I were a man

no doubt it would matter more

 women get the brunt

of this experimental

''treatment''

here and everywhere

and over the pond

the blacks

black women mainly

who must figure as we do here.

 PINK SILK AND GREY FEATHERS

 was it code

I asked myself

 driven out of this penine city

to the East End I grew to love

 having wrongly thought the hassle

was local grown not from the capital

 beaming to Jessop's Hospital

which has now had to be pulled down

(everywhere they use has to be changed in some way)

 the lab decided my demise

from life or what ever else

 one day returning to my home

there down Plashet  Road

 which their thieves regularly visited

the lab said they had three

 two black and one white

endless break ins the order of the day

 was it on the day

those men in royal blue

 macs I mean

followed me round the place

 as Sikh friend, platonic if you want to know

went about the East End for working materials

 maybe not

(I loved my number thirty nine to death

 but finally sucumbed and left)

found on my bed

 my silk underwear with a cut crotch

scattered with feathers on the top

 I have to admit though living here most of my life

I am not indigenous

 some of their messages

are beyond me to decode

 even at over forty-

the real message was

 that since I have never been able to afford

silk underwear, that was from my married days

 and to those who want to know

my hair is still naturally mid brown to this day

 but then can you decode

a circle of perfectly cut cubed green-glistening meat

 placed in an absolutely perfect semi circle -left

at my gate- good or bad?

 and I gotta tell ya

I ain't superstitious so it's lost on me!

 A BIG GAIL

 Abigail

oh such a big gail

 I put all that work into a journal for you

I told them it was what a penfriend told me

 I didn't know it was your prisoners work

for the last twenty four years

 at University, at home, on sites

now the lab is blocking Beta Poets altogether

 Nothing goes through to your two hundred and sixty three poems

We have taken some more from there and your folders

 his wife laughs at me

'don't worry, he put all your work into our system.'

 Muslim papers and work

copied from an east european refugee. More shame for them.

 Well, my son in law is a Ghandi extended family

I suppose so we have to suffer for that?

 I had always said

Indians are my family

 Pakistanis my friends

but they really do stab anyone in the back

 We gave away everyone who was in hiding

to our British conquerors back then

 robbed my bank account though a woman alone

a thousand for each one and have no shame!

 Now which journal Abigail

such a big gale

 or as their psychiatrist put on the air to me

'Your vagina is like a big pail says Carl'

 'Ich bin auch Jude' followed me round the East End

They call that a 'debasement programme' by the way!

 continued none stop through University lectures

through Mass, through all Churches

 over conversation and tv, over all music which is terrible

but I now no longer listen to words only melodies

 It is remote on airwaves no hiding from it

so there is no way of stopping them

 they call it the ultimate phase out

as we did no wrong they can never stop!

 seven years prison was what awaited them if caught

In America they get nine or so

 It's in - gracia

It's in Grazia!

 CAMILLA

 OH NO.........

not hyping my blood vessels again

on the machine given by America

to St Barths Human Research

 Camilla was in it, we keep turning it

the so called programme, turning it, turning it

Jewish spin doctors filled with sadism

letting Muslims spite whites

 Now we know why they had to ask for Partition

all India knew they had stabbed

their countrymen in the back

dare not let the Brits leave without hiding

 the lab had hundreds taken

from the Halifax, a month's wages for teaching

said it was for Camilla's part

in this major idiocy, going round, round and round

 now you have to have another change

well not a real one, one crime, a pomander of the queen

on the toilet role holder, another, admirer of Sydney Potier

blood vessels hyped their 'Stanis already practices that

 I quote here ''the silly cow

never went to the doctors''

got no medication through it

but we gave her the prince

 I had gone to the doctors, what is medication for ..

had no problems

but Anna boss of the lab

performs and faints all over the place twixt her men

 and when I had said

only women with the luxury

of time and money

can afford to have changes

 a poor working woman

with children and no father

really hasn't time

for such nonsense

 being English

feeling superior

she was mad as hell

so pays me back now with this experimental rubbish.

 Look it is true

in the Ukraine

the women worked in the fields

worked at home

worked everywhere

 who had time to drop all over the place

having changes

for goodness sake

I am only speaking the truth

 though I was here

my situation had been made

the worst possible by this lab with their experiments

''destroy their lives

and see how they cope''

 so my reaction was the same

in the Ukraine it was the same

poor women had to suffer for the rich

dragging their bodies around…

 MERIEL LABS

 Meriel is the Welsh form of Muriel

a varient form of of Meryl and Merle..........

 English Muriel

is that the connection

who told me it would be three generations

before the brits could consider

if we could become British....

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

don't think so.

 Meryl lived across the road to us

a long time ago

a sweet friend and her husband

they were Mormons

she made me smile

telling me after she gave birth to a son

you see..

all my babies who are not yet born

will be jealous because I will love this one so very much

a thought which had never entered my head

when I had my five in that decade

but typically sweet

They invited me to come and kneel and pray

at their home

with them

but believe me

no disrespect

but I had enough on

taking my tribe to Mass

along with my little sister in law

who lived with us

'cause the ex-es ma had topped herself-

sitting silently as supposed

making sure they didn't drop the collection money

as little boys will

and putting the pennies into their pockets

 Then years later

we met again

I worked at the Path lab of our local hospital

and so did she

 and Frank of the bright blue eyes used to watch

used by the lab St Barths Human Research he was

Frank was supposed to be their honesty get out

that is their way of working

making one aware that one is being watched that way

and interjecting odd little remarks

which sound as part of the conversation

till you become aware

and other crazed stuff like that.

I ought to add here right away

that the lab St Barths Human Research

has absolutely no respect

for hospitals, medical staff or any type of doctor

or anyone else to that matter.

except for their own lying and cheating

turning all others into liars and cheats

We may not drop on our knees very often

but we come from a people

who believe in God and our doctors

(but then we paid for ours

and they worked for us

not for lists of every sort.)

They're all lunatics there at that lab...

 and Meryl and I got on really well

though we worked super hard

N.H.S. believe in getting their moneys worth

and we had to ring young doctors and tell them off

for using the wrong blood bottles for the wrong blood

and stuff like that

 Meryl was a careful, slow soul

me, I chucked the bottles about quite sharply

Listen, I had Hep B as a kid refugee

and goodness knows what else not counted yet

and am still here

I reckon the almighty quite likes me in fact

so don't get het up about things.

 Now it happened we had a consultant there

that was Scunthorpe town

three in fact but one a woman,

a really nice blonde

who travelled from Sheffield town.

The lab are mad

please believe that

they think in weird ways and paths....

 so when they put her on the machine

(they probably had them all on

as they never admit anything

and it is all done in secret and remote)

they didn't know what to call her

so because she was a consultant of the Path Lab

they called her Meryl

though she is not a Meryl

and after I moved to Sheffield Town myself

they used her in set ups

(they are lunatics and use crazy set ups

which sane people like me ignore)

They told me the consultants private business

they tell me lots of details

saying they tell people

I need to know so they can tell them

lies about me which they call issues

but it is Anna of the lab who knows

and it is another honesty get out

so they put on lots of sexual abuse infact

which upset me at first

till I realised these people are not normal

but weirdos and lechers

quacks or not

admitting that they are nosey parkers

and get paid to do nothing better

but from me

a secret it will stay.

 Now foot and mouth comes from the Merriel Labs

another circle is complete

 Human Research are absolutely mad, cracked

lunatic, crazy, off their heads

or what ever else you want to call it.

 THE POST AGAIN?

 'I don't see why we have to rob her post, again..?'

because it is another freedom taken

all freedoms have to be destroyed for the family..

 'They demanded it on high' Anna

bossess of the worst programme in peace time

lied as always.

 On high

was a Tory M.P. person

who was also an ex-lover

whom she asked for something to put on the file

 He answered

I was sure once

my post was lost or with-held

then it came

 for that

presents from China to my daughter

presents to grandson Josef from China

presents to my other grandsons

not only the

twenty four paintings I sent them

dozens of other presents I sent to people

 including one to my friend in Russia

to whom I sent warm woolly clothes

worth hundreds

were taken by the lab

 four hundred of my poetry books

over three hundred of my letters

and a long list of other thieving

from a lab full of thieves

 They demanded it on high

was the lie

 The lab manipulates the post

as it pleases

(even exam papers)

 Anna just ensures they get lost

like the thieves from the directed thieving in my house

as she watches there

quiet as a mouse

though they see she talks like a rubbish pusher

twenty to the dozen

or as the Civil Servants said

how could we be blamed

she breezed in full of life

after our stuffy wives

(I wonder if I was a stuffy wife too?

but honestly

there at the Ministries!

my ex old man always used to say

never go to toilet in your own back garden

which does make sense you know.)

at the lab St Barths Human Research

of which she is the bossess

from all that bonding

 (She asks them after the so called programme

and which was the lie?)

still maximizing

endlessly

criminally

by some of the worst criminals

the world has ever seen

if the truth were ever to be allowed

and we come from Stalin and Hitler country!

 THAT’S A NICE ENOUGH CARDI..

 Being stateless refugees

enemy aliens to boot

we were always very poor

though poached to come here

 no benefits for us

no child allowances

no housing benefits

nothing

 what we had we worked for

and always lived within our means

so robbing us

is taking the lot

 Our presents were smaller

than yours are

but our celebrations happier

for that

 In mum's country

a knitted sweater is an essential

people don't bother much with coats

with four kids, my time was limited

 so every Christmas

mum would give me a knitted sweater

which I cared for lovingly

washed and wore constantly

 she knitted them in all the different austrian styles

long and straight

coloured edgings and patterns of every kind

thick jacket types

 Mustafa of the lab St Barths

robbed my suitcase as planned

from Manchester Airport Emirates

paying an Airport Employee who drove it out

in his grey car

 The suitcase was to do for one whole year

teaching in China, C.D's. players, books and such

at my age I like my own clothes

where ever I go

 Get this

because they had had my paintings and writings

copied by others

the lab boss Anna wanted my clothes worn by others

 'sposed to be psychology

so Mustafa told his wife

you have to wear her blouses and cardis

and one or two other people too

 the english girls at the lab say

each time he wanted something

he came to their lab to check

it was not in my suitcase

 so his wife had to wear my cardis

and silk shirts which I can never replace

years and years of collecting

she wasn't keen but he made her

 (Are they the ones who live near Marble Arch

and collect family credit I wonder)

so yesterday on the bus they passed the message

they do that constantly

 nice enough cardi

the cardi your mum knitted you

all the year as she was going blind

and someone here pinched my mum's best clothes

 this is what the british call

'research' and circles..

I would say neither jews nor muslims

know the ten commandments

 as the german retired consul they used had said

they all need some Sunday School, no good

the Church of England was in it too

and took some of my poetry as theirs/hers.

 (Remember, the queen went to talk to the Pope)

 EVERY FREEDOM GONE

 The whole media played along

they chose look alikes

stories alike

and have them taunt

 the thief of a painter

one of the fine artists they used

("I deserve to cheat and lie

and copy yours

I didn't pass my school leaving exams

you did

so why should you be an artist too")

 sunday morning tv

switched on

remember the tv never goes on

without them taunting

and the whole media plays along

 "I don't know where you get your ideas from!"

(my life actually

and that of my family-

were I english

I would be ashamed

to make mainstream

a poor refugee woman

stateless, elderly

her final work

as british work ..

but one thing the Brits never had

was shame)

 but I know how I use them.........

 British art and literature stink of copying

they stink worse than Nazi art

or communist art

They were at least about an ideal

when people thought there was no other way

 the british

in their magpie way

as usual

have art and literature

about thieving vulnerable and helpless people..

 I had thought at first

it was merely a game of nerves---

---as I heard all our family jests

and the rest

on the tv daily and nightly

so stopped listening

and was comforted by the Bishop at Lahore

where I had fled years ago

thinking a bit of peace

who said at Mass

(they had stopped debasement

over Mass by then)

'these media guys think they are the world

take no notice'

L.A. had told them to make us

so known by others we could never

talk of our own again--

----and they would stop

that was years ago

and still it goes on and on

"she (that's me to you) is a nice little earner

use them to the core

just as they did in Auschwitz

in another of their stories

 Theresienstadt did not screw out the painters minds

they got them to copy famous art works by the way.

 Let her paint and write the lab said

we will use it all as ours

the jews as jewish stories

the brits as british stories

every hair she has'

which they are now again removing daily

though I lost none in China..

 the pakistani toilet cleaner:

I put on the machine a 'change'

like our women always moan of

and you never have

and I put on it sweats like our women say

but a hundred times more intense

but only during lesson times

hyping your blood vessels by laser

(so I catch cold as the air hits me)

and wispy hair

once taken by the machine cannot grow

(that's a form of punishment

They told us to change you..)

so you lose your brown fine hair

(identical to Camp Five Auschwitz-

idiots playing with sophisticated machinery)

we wanted you running to the doctor

the jewish quacks said

so we could claim you were a hypochondriac

not to be believed

and merely say

just how resourceful are you

then we can claim we thought of it.

 That is how the lab works

intense intense intense everything.....

each human has a smell of their own

you all know that

so they intensified my vaginal smell

a million times

and told their students and women

-that is how I smell (done remote)

then they put on dirty smells of me as I teach

and dirty smells of others to me

it is so stupid it defies description

from this file which it appears reads

(german paid to come to the lab

to use the english population told me)

-am dirty, stupid and a whole list of horrors

written by the jewish quacks of the lab

(remember we saved jews)

and they must punish me for that.

 Like the hot water with Margaret

and so many other disasters

anything is possible

from this new energy displacement machine

used in the most evil imaginable way

by raving lunatics and idiots playing....

 Oh America

why didn't you check to whom you give such power

before you let them have the power and advances

They don't play like you......

they don't use prisoners and slobs

they use the hard working, decent and their citizenry

and help the rapists and yobs.

You after all freed yourself from the corrupt island

why do you put corruption back into their hands?

 ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE NOW..

 circle circle Papparozi

makes it all seem normal now

 circle circle foot and mouth

Sars was back too and all the other shouts

 circle circle chinese skimming again

then they say I can teach over there

 circle circle covering again

it is an ordinary negative psychology ploy

 circle circle just some decent useful people, what the hell

as long as we the criminals survived

 circle circle use it all again

no one thinks of what is really going on

 circle circle are you going to repeat it all

plane and train crashes, erruptions and floods too?

 circle circle each country has to manage an internal disaster

after we of St Barths will use our machine to give the answers

 circle circle, the biggest blag of all time

all of England's art and literature destroyed...

 circle circle, as apathetic humanity goes shopping

scratches its backside and doesn't care

 circle circle the most corrupt of all cheats

controlling us and everything

 circle circle the most corrupt of all cheats

controlling us and everyone and thing

 circle circle they rule the world

because none of us cared even the law

 St Barths Human Research has won the day

''so you got away with it all'' their helpers chuckle

 the citizenry of the country

they've used for a long, long time

they 'got' me on their machine in eighty four

in this country we ran to for safety

then they got those surrounding me

then they came for the Princess

then they came for the M.Ps

then they came for the objectors

then they came for me

then there was no one left to object for me

in all the noise I would not listen

to that one or two quiet voices telling

and the big voice in my head screaming

 seems humanity deserves what has and is happening

too busy with their toilet

 as we wait for the contolled world

but not controlled as we had hoped

 and we've seen it all before

if only I were young enough to fight not just to sigh.

 THE CRITICAL AGE

 The critical age has gone far too far

the libertines have all gone mad

sense has flown out of the windows

 Time to renew what we think

teachers were bashed

respect for teachers disappeared

 how can a teacher teach without respect

 Now the Police are being bashed

respect for the Police disappears

and slowly those who want anarchy

are winning the day

 how can the police police without respect

 the critical element often do not realise

they too will lose in the long run.........

It began with the bashing of the Church methings

 without respect all will collapse

and no one will know peace or happiness

as only money will be left

 Bought respect is no respect

and we should know

we've seen it all collapse before

 But the West has yet to learn

Capitalism is about Profit

but money cannot buy respect

 All systems on earth are faulty

run by humans

only God is perfect as has so often been noted

 those with faults a'plenty

spend their time running down

those who try to keep some sort of order

 'give it a rest guys

and stop those devils like St Barths research

turning our countries into corrupt personal havens of power.'

 NEbRAT SE A NE KRAST SE

 Sheffield Faire.........

"at Sheffield Faire we exhibited

hoping you would see

 the special feature

being there...

YOUR work for all to see.."

 but whose name was with the work?

we saw no Fekete there

and all things done by me

are signed RF or surname sigged...

 Sound over the mongolian C.D.

tuning my Hi Fi sounds

(a method of theirs for two decades now)

as I unpack my things returned

from teaching in China poor

where thieving is not a sport

but only done to fill empty bellies

 'modern flowing songs'

picked the most beautiful tune of all

to tell me of this latest move

"and now we have to repeat it all again"

the lab wishes to prove I am

merely ordinary with endless dishonesty?

 (I happen to believe in the individual-

that we all have a spark of something..

Though it is more than time to curb births

to reasonable numbers

in our overflowing world

it is time and more than time

to stop family allowance

except for the very poorest

to make people responsible

for the life they create-

however, those already born deserve a life)

 So now to Sheffield Faire I must

to see MY work anew

the ten to twenty hours a piece

of solid none stop work

it takes me to paint each scene

as a fine artist filched of all ideas

 and they added after it all

"that's why we had to pinch it all

from your little two up and down

which you call Fenris House

Pagehall in your end of town

so you can never prove

what lying cheats and thieves

we all really are...................."

 Wish they lived here

so I could teach their children

at one of our schools

who will probably all become thieves too

I could teach

that thieving from old ladies

is not a nice thing to do..

 not even for the lab St Barths Research

and all their guarantees of sales they give

in hell your soul will burn for such spite

if such a thing as a soul you even possess#

 the t.v. says everyone thinks

these cheats have done really well

but they merely copied it all

to order............

 FRANCE!

 Twice now

St Barths Human Research

we need to get a foothold

into France

 They are holding off

just like the Russians

I want a handle in France

 If she goes over there

(She is me to you)

They might believe her

 We have a part of America

We have all of Germany

We have Italy and Spain

We have the Chinese and more

 But the French

like the Japanese and Russians

are being stubborn

which is just what they said

about me.....

 'India has already fallen long

there will be an influx of theirs'

(the lab brings in a mass inxudus

from which ever country it wins)

and the Mongolians objected to such

 The Germans turned out more

stupid than we had ever guessed

as did the Huns all on our screen

 We have the Poles too

but the French are holding off

They were always a nuisance

 ....and Brown has given Ann of the lab

the Green light to go on

she merely shrugged-

he lost a baby for it.

(they all have to have a disaster first

Blair's was the miscarriage)

 The slow killing of the Party

by the 'Old Boys.'

 LOBBY?

 what the lab did was simple

 having been caught out

breaking international law and internal law

ran screaming

 'I've made a mistake

I'll cover it with your permission'

 There was a lobby

against that kind of experimentmentation

 She merely killed them off one by one

with the old boys behind her, all former lovers

 'look, what does it matter

we just destroyed a few careers and lives..

 we repeat the attrocities in different ways

to see what the result will be.

 we don't use rats

we use the Miss (me) and her family instead.

 In England people are quite law abiding

Anne just rides over the law

 but looks and talks the law

no one thinks to check her

 They just don't expect people

to break the law on purpose in that field

 Lives ruined of artists for an experimental idea

untested stuff and a battery of lies from the top

 Dennis Civil Servant of the Health Ministry

and Arthur and Arnold, lovers one and all

 showed the lab how to take from citizens without being caught

decrease pensions, rob banks and the rest on computer.

 Such are the keepers of the Crown

Though as a child new here in this country

 I was told I may not swear loyalty

to the Queen at the Brownies as I was a foreigner

 but we are more loyal and think more of what loyalty is

though we are only 'closet heroes'

 than all those over-puffed dictators of this corrupt LAND.

 THE QUEEN

 The Queen

wished to know

exactly

what and how many attrocities

 She will be told

that which is good

for a Queen to know

 We ofcourse have to lie to you

to the British Crown

to the questions they ask

 The Queen asked

what were the attrocities

the attrocities will be cut but not on you..

 some things are better

for the Crown not to know

we'll show proper respect but..

 and later came this

we've told her Highness

all we dare

 we told her there were links

to your childhood which is ridiculous

we're practicing on the public

 we havn't said that

so sayeth the lab

she/me is going to talk now, whatever

 At this point

I could write

one of my clever little lines

 quoting past and not so past

lechers and liars

but I think myself

 we have to repeat all attrocities

we lied then about you all (not forgotten)

so now we have to add more lies called issues

 when an evil idea begins

all the animals appear from nowhere

creeping out of the woodwork

 enough has been said ....

when the Queen asks

honesty should be the answer

though not indigenous we would give only honesty...

 footnote:

P.M. Brown was told 'you were alright

with being used

for robbery and torture.'

I am disappointed.

 THE LAST DAYS OF A PRINCESS

 Ann of the lab

its bossess at Barths

puts on a disaster programme for some

on that person's co-ordinates

 for some they get every help

that this form of corruption can bring

every help that can come without sting

from dishonesty and cheating

 Once we have them in this system

we never let them free

for good or for bad

they stay on our machine

 We've broken every law

on the family and around

not a soul can see but few

and no one can catch us out

 For now........

They're advanced beyond anything

any of the secrets they pretend to reveal

with such thoughtful 'honesty'

 WOMENS’ NODULES

 'women who paint deserve this sort of treatment'

wilful wrecking of a life

in a slow dispassionate manner..

 I am that woman who paints

of whom they rant

this was four days ago, not four hundred years ago

 'Lee got your arms and t*ts'

what did Lee do?

you've heard of stronium rays

 he pressed each single nodule in my breasts

a very painful process

but unseen done remote

 still sometimes not so heavily

and often continue underarm

because we are not seen as human

 Even the birth of my nine pound breech Patrick

was not as painful as what they did repeatedly

it activates any cancer cells a woman might have

 Human Research may do as it wills

government and royalty allow it so

fear and horror of the silent screams are meaningless

 Someone did ask the other day

did she feed her five babies herself

(Research never checks anything!)

well no, she was too ill after each birth

 No need to worry about these Huns mixed with Irish

they are not like we british or jews

they don't feel pain of experiments though are far too sane!

 Has it all been done before

yes, to patients in hospitals and out

who could not even guess what it was all about.

 ''Let's find something for the Irish to do

so they forget about fighting us''

put them into performance arts to use up their virility

 The world run by the new leaders

St Barths Human Research

sounds just like Hitler and Stalin to us

 Jewish 'doctor' Meyer, wife and niece sold mine to Topshops, adds

'I wanted to see you a physical wreck'

Do you know, that is probably what they said at Camp 5!

 (more doctors, doctor Mengele this time.

They say that mob learnt from their earlier jewish mentors)

 DIRECTED THEFTS

 Returned from teaching in China

to try to stay alive

in every way

 Here in blighty

though the place is filled with terrorists

they kill the useful and decent

 One phone call to the top

and all is gone

no work, no safety, nothing

 Still torturing daily

gaining in intensity again

the directed thieving continues

 they merely disable the electric alarms

now I find

not only every  story I ever wrote gone

 paintings too ofcourse

now being copied by this two faced nation

private things included

 photos of the bapitsm

of my chinese goddaughter

why you think

 they were present

I am on a machine

where they torture they rob all afterwards

 chinese silk tablecloths for mum

clothes I bought for mum before leaving

(silk shirts and good skirts, all gone)

 they used carers to steal those

directed by the lab a list too long

to give out thefts from me

 it is supposed to go round and round

though mum is ninety and I over sixty

Dad's death certificate taken

 why, we killed him

war time papers to show where he was

mum's Czechoslovak citizens papers

 all taken so there can be no return

They said we had to start totally anew

someone yesterday remarked

 They are nothing but racketeers

at St Barths Human Research

behavioural science on their killing spree

 and other things, so many other things

taken by these monsters

cowardly people who can only hit the weak

 One silver lining

the bossess Anna wanted to put a stop to my poems

on Beta they wiped and changed them

 You will not compromise me she stormed

by telling the truth. They were told

THIS site is american

 America would have to stop them

Hurrah for free speech!

is there really more freedom elsewhere?

  People wont look me in the eye

and mutter

they are leaning on you british style

 but why?

 the tv overtalks which they use constantly

I quote just now

'pump some more then send us the stories

The Eastenders'

 I do not send the stories

the lab St Barths Human Research

sends them through its cheats

 The directed thefts of all my stories and diaries

were written at Sheffield University Writers Group

at Sheffield Polytechnic B. Ed English specialism Course

 At Forest Gate writers groups

at Whitechapel writers groups

at the University of East London and other Universities

 The bossess spends hours and hours they say

sitting at her computer mixing and matching

their illegal processing of us

 with their own dirty stories (we will use ourselves)

instead of caring for the retarded and needy

which is supposed to be their real job for which they are paid

 to ensure all the lab members

who have used use, robbed us and written my work

cannot be caught..there are no crimes for them

 I have been celibate for over a decade

and my 'pumping'- in my language, love making

was barely enough to cover one poem even!

 Address the lab-  East Enders. Not me.

one of their most evil men, hotted up the file

saying we were too boring!

 GIVE THEM SOME STICK..

 They are knocking seven bells out of you-

several of their criminal friends

invited to try out any tortures

literally...'use it' they say on the phone

have commented

(we are 'it' not people)

 They call it

giving some stick, our way

It is meant to shut you up

The jewish doctor Meyer

who took drawings home

to his wife and his niece

who sold them to Topshop

drawings I had done

visiting a Synagogue

and from my mother's stories

of old Bratislava

-said all this

This doctor knew

we had fed jews

back in Bratislava

I ought to mention that

 Since my return from China

to my family

sons and ninety year old mum

the level of pain therapy

as one wit calls their torture

stick is just another word for torture

but as stick is given in the West

by jewish doctors

it can't be called torture, do you see?

 The pain level of the all night probes

is so high now

I wake up with my face yellow

They put the shock on all night too

that was Wolf, the german, scientist's invention

yes, ofcourse the germans are in it up to their necks..

squeezing heart valves, lung and the other stuff

for the brits on request

 not surprising really

Hitler called the scientists for a little competition

to see who could kill the jews the quickest

(that's why we fed and clothed those we could

though we had seven children in our family)

They say that jewish psychiatrists then

used these things on german patients

so the tables were turned at the camps

(They should have caught the doctors responsible)

Now the jewish doctor Meyer does the same to us

only they like to hit friends

every night

every night

getting worse each night

that way she will forget..?

 How do you prove a remote probe

used beyond endurance

year in year out.

 I wrote to the medical Council at the top

they wrote me a stupid letter back

telling me to go to a doctor!

(doctors often tend to imagine

no other human have any brains by the way

it is a common fault of theirs)

I went to see a lawyer

a famous lawyer at that

known for being sympathetic

he said: go to a doctor.

Without the detail

I told a woman lawyer

The lab didn't answer her letters

and that was that.

 That's what happened to women

in the States

who dared to complain..

then they were put back

with the men who had tortured them

though the States does try to monitor

we are like those women

We have no real home

made stateless by the big three

They belonged neither to Africa

nor to the States wholly

 If I told the Chinese

what they do in Brittania

they wouldn't believe me

do you know that..

some of them feel guilt

at all the shouting about and at them

and haven't a clue

what the maniacs over here do -

secretly

endlessly

without ever stopping

with our Ministry's knowledge

and some of the Government too

to the population at large

and to some in particular

 They haven't learnt yet from the Brits

secrecy and cunning...

 All a woman of sixty-two can do

is try to continue each day

as the pain in the morning subsides

knowing the women at the lab torture

without ever caring a hoot

hope at least friends on the net

will read and listen

-people rarely do

 Sometimes during lessons I give

they put a probe on to my cranium so hard

the pain becomes unbearable

(It's like someone bashing your head

with a stick non stop)

that's a guy called Green from Redbridge

from the south London Liberal Synagogue

they say with massive sadistic tendencies

and is now on full pay

but not at work

as he wouldn't stand inspection

 He took my paintings home for his daugher Fay

from the damned machine

to copy and his wife copied

our refugee stories for the Woman's World

as jewish refugee stories!

After she had falsified our signatures

filling in the forms of permission

to be used as volunteers and patients

exactly as Hitler's mob had done

(they cry about that, yet do the same-

and why us, we helped them?

It is beyond me to understand)

They copy paintings I did

after Synagogue lectures

that is the most amazing thing of all

Innuendo she said, that was all

innuendo...

(they tell us remote

using tv, music and all sound vehicles)

and then broke my foot..remote of course

after which their Mustafa

broke my arm socket for me..

 and I have to face another night

remote probes bashing

will he knock my cranium in tonight?

It is called weakening the threat

hopefully - they think-

for an early death.

It works very well

as the victim goes through the day

looks normal

just a little sicker than yesterday

in more pain

not even the people you live with

appreciate what is happening

the bruised organs are all inside

nothing is visible on the outside

just a little sicker than yesterday

stumble to teach

the springy step gone for ever

Nothing abnormal

nothing to be seen.

 It is ten p.m. already...........

 OFFSET BY BANK CHARGES

 banks were told

that behavioural science

no, it is not proper human research

St Barths lab

were experimenting

The banks permitted it

though we are their customers

 The lab could hack

into our accounts

what little money we had

and roll it

to their own advantage

The banks would try tricks

which could not be detected

move our money into others accounts

as the german woman banker

who took one thousand from my account

and put it into a german woman's

as part of the experiment

closing the loopholes for the brits

It would take a book

to describe all the thieving

the lab committed on our family

as an experiment they said...

 I sold the family home

ten thousand is for us a lot of money

a woman alone with kids

and ancient refugee parents, scared

they took it out of bank after bank

such is the financial state

in this wonderful Britain

were helpless women

are robbed by labs

thousands taken over the years

 as they pretend to be science

they offset each crime committed on us

by giving the nation something

 robbing us

as we are so vulnerable

leaving the kids literally starving

letting each asian lab member health worker

take out of our accounts

as they pleased

they ordered the bank charges be changed

(we try to do some good

so no one wants to get us!)

 If we go abroad

they do the same to us there

It is called a programme

because they bashed us to smitherenes

are scared of being caught

they ensure everyone else bashes us too

 The brits never change..

 MERSEYSIDE LIVER BIRDS AGAIN..

 The Liver Birds

Mersey you mean

yes..yet again

 it came through yesterday

the lab emails it

all your work

she gives us to use

 this time

it even includes your letters

from China

and those love letters

to your husband

stories about your children growing up

about their grandparents and your grandparents

about you and those about you

in those blue school exercise books

taken by the lab directed thefts

by their ten lab thieves

 Lab members get the work straight

to print as it stands

others have it mixed

with dirt written by the lab bossess

evidently she has a mind like a sewer

and they decided to punish me

for their own misdeeds

so get this

they try to give me their illnessess

their misfortunes

their weaknesses

and their dirt...

-they thought that one up

we'll make the victims of our crimes

pay for our crimes

and the government and Ministry agreed

so they would not have to pay compensation-

 they call that mixing and matching

so that there is every variation out there

and if I should ever write or paint anything

it will be old hat and over used work

the lab told the liver birds:

we were all committed!

 (gosh

must tell my daughter

Principal of a College

son

top Engineer of an American company

and the rest

and me too

committed?

I teach College and University)

 that was eight years of my writings

often written in my bed at nights

which the junior Health Minister copied too

given by the lab

 and a black girl too

 well, just put they came out of darkest Africa

instead of Hungary..

same difference

when it is Behavioural Science

destroying literature and people

 all through the lessons

of Hanuf and Sameesa and the rest

to which the Pakistani's at the lab listen to

not having had an education

to see what they can glean

 (they used to use the frustrator during lessons

for years and years

that is, they irritate your womb

told me today

they were going to say

'why do you constantly feel like that'?)

 Just as Anna of the lab St Barths

used to listen to my mum and dad

when they chatted to each other

(Simon Telewny and wife

political satirist known world wide)

Only bl**dy foreigners

after all

and all of them

so vulnerable

so old

with her remote machine

and then went to talk to the Ministry

she serviced

to impress them

with old Simon's opinions

after they had told her

'not too bright gel..what

but ok with your over the desk'......

 Our whole family

taken prisoners

slowly destroyed

one by one

and manslaughtered.

 As I type over microsound

''you let them.''

 YOU WHAT...........?

 It is unprovable

that is why they use it..

that is why their fellows

over in the States

gave them the methods

outlawed

and the machinery

but I will not be cowed..

 even though their newpaper cheats

write up my stuff

for their leaders

knowing full well

I too worked on a newspaper

as did my dad..

 Ah, the evil these cowardly brits do

and say it is now global!

can't take on anyone their own size

strike faceless in the night

without owning up

remote..

 They say now they are going to try

to take down son-in-law's family

Brahmin's in India

Disasters to happen to them too

remote..

with love from England.

 NEW STARS AND STARLETS

 All things are found in literature..

all life is repeated in literature..

 The Mafia of Sicily was cancerous

to its society

to its inhabitants

to the land it inhabited

 Merit meant nothing

Talent meant nothing

Work meant nothing

The Mafia gave you your profession

as a gift

for its own uses...

 The Lab St Barths Human Research London

is cancerous

to its society

to its inhabitants

to the land it inhabits

 Merit means nothing

Talent means nothing

Work means nothing

The lab gives you your profession

as a gift

for its own uses..

 They have neither skill

nor do they understand anything

as they lie to all about them

 Once people paid to come to England

it gave prestige to come to England

the talented and the rich came here

 Now anyone can come to England

just spin a good tale

or hide away and claim

 and those who have money

flee this country

its corrupt top stays silence about the truth.

 ..and the lab?

' the brutality will come through

it will be heard and known with time ...'

'No, we will begin to do good works..' I quote

 so, more Autobahn to be built.....

'We have a surfeit of population' he said

Let the secret experiments on the population begin

 That's where it all began..

fine, we understand that

but why destroy us

hard working

clever and talented

That's the rub

and let's not mention a certain lady...

 SOME FOLKS, LISTEN

 Listen.........

 not all Christians are white

not all Whites are Christians

 not all Muslims are brown

not all brown people are Muslims

 not all Africans are wild

not all wild people are Africans

 not all Chinese people are communists

not all communists are Chinese

 the ' not all' continues

without end...

 so listen to that person first.

Some folk listen….

 A ONE HUNDRED PERCENT FIRST

 in this circling

of all crimes

to test the arm

of the lab St Barths research

 so they can rule the land

in their way

not that of justice

and honesty

 compensation of course is circling

Although one of the best pupils

at Grimsbly Art College

They 'over used' my lecturer

at the next Art College

It is called manslaughter

and not he alone

He had to give me a fail..

 Then Scotts Francene

who works at the lab

copied all my poetry as hers

guaranteed sales by the lab

so when I did my Institute

Language test,

paid for by a grant by the Council

so sure were they of success..

I am a mother speaker by the way

They took it out of the post

.....having asked a director

whose name they say is similar to mine

who gave the lab permission

to rob all post from my post

told him that they were doing an experiment

(white coats and telephone calls

are always believed)

hundreds of letters

presents to grandsons...

and sent another test paper instead

a fail...

 Reduce, reduce, reduce

(as the german said

a true Hiterite reduction

to the death, as were those

with added british cunning )

having told a director

of the Institute of Education

that they were doing an experiment

(white coats and telephone calls

are always believed)

 Over the tv

they always tell me the real marks

not the bogus fails they force

so the Institute of Linguists

was a credit, seventy percent

and as  all my marks are Oxford marked

that would be higher than it seems

(that is supposed to be a present

to be Oxford marked in all things!

Secretly!)

Art College also

Masters a second in reality

and Bachelors a first..

 (they used Chris

an oxford grad

would be lover of the lab bossess, Anna

who wrote two books of my poems from the lab

as a pressy from Anny

-and a Tyne Tees Lecturer

to help them sort this out)

 to make up for all this messing

and murdering of lecturers

they now have to do the opposite

 a lab friend needed a first

to go on to what she wanted to do

so they helped her with all she wanted to know

so that she got a perfect first..

this lying cheat

now has the title of:

a clever girl..

yeah, clever indeed.

Knows whom to butter up.

The lab has done this same cheating

for several of the women hangers-on

all of their cheats are protected

and their are so many of them now!

 Let's hope it doesn't end up like the earlier one

Pam of the Ministry of Pensions

who upped my old mums tax

to millionaire level

Pensioners with nothing but hard work

rebuilding the heavy industry of this country for them

had a daughter studying German

I am trilingual since childhood

so they gave her all my notes

(which was ridiculous

as there was an english version in the Goethe)

I just naturally translate in my head

and then gave Pam's daughter a first..

 Poor girl got a job in a Bank

then couldn't understand the german clients..

 I hated Hitler

he was a destroyer

hiding under the guise of help...

because he and the lab St Barths research

here in England

were and are as one..

but you know

when you hear the truth of things

you can understand why-

why people worked for him..

He needed ability

but sadly, he went mad..

 If only Anna of St Barths Lab

and our government which knows exactly

what that super-evil female is doing

would go mad

as the people she sends mad

and join them in her own place of hell.

Some of her own workers

have said the very same thing.

Who would have thought England

was so corrupt.......

 certainly not we!

 This time, it

was Libby....

 WHO IS ALBERT

 Sitting here at my computer

this message comes through

using microsound..

 Microsound as BBC2 told

is aimed from a computer

at your co-ordinates

at sound higher than human hearing

The lab uses this all the while.

 No I am not deaf

but the Lab St Barths research do not help people

they use technology

to teach people how to steal and lie

and steal, lie, cheat and kill for their own pockets

to feather their own nests

how to destroy all that is decent and hardworking

They are the horror dictators of this generation

again

just as in Auschwitz camp five

which is the real reason why there is so much unrest.

 "This is Albert

I thought I could make use of your life's work

and I have...

You don't know who I am

Go to the beginning...........

You can't because you don't know what it is.

 We are invited into a studio

A machine has all your life's work

painting, sketches, stories, plays, poems

University Essays all of it

Everything is used time and again

by anyone they want

and we are all weak and cheats..

we are allowed to rob whatever we want

You are not considered as humans

nor as having any Rights what so ever..

You are considered as their toy, their lab rat

because they have used you for terror and pain

for over twenty two years now..

Remember all those they have killed in that time

and be thankful..

the old whore of the Health Ministry

the new murderers in white coats

just as we saw them before

The media, just as during Hitler

led by the nose of this dictator.."

 For this privilege

of robbing your work

and torturing your family

in every way possible

we had you raped several times

in your fifties..

that was our compensation

(in our past

women who were raped repeatedly

went mad)

 "I am going to go public

that is Lee the 'Pustules' man

but I will tell lies about you in my paper.

We make out that you are a mindless retard."

 What a miserable creature you are Albert!

 GENIUS

 They seek genius here

they seek genius there

 and most of us academics

know quite a lot about the subject

 One thing not reported

from the secret labs St Barths research

 the machine America

gave them to get them out of trouble

 can hype your brain up a notch

whilst you are on the machine

 and it might activate cancer

if you have that in you

 they also found

when one of their Pakistani toilet cleaners

 tried to hype up his brain

little happened and ofcourse he complained

 sadly, if you do not have the natural stuff there

the machine can't raise you any further

 It can only increase to its full capacity

what is already in existance

 We are all different

God made us so

 so, sadly, these 'expert' Asians, former health workers

have to be hoiked up artificially in their lab

 Poor England being run by such a mob!

Incidentally, the machine can make you forget things..

 all things are temporary on the machine

sexual highs all of it

 as soon as you are off the machine

the extra hype disappears

 even if you are a Majesty!

 KEEP CIRCLING

 This secret queen who rules

who maybe thinks to emulate

the earlier Elizabeth the first

but sadly brings no honour

Anna of the lab St Barths

they said today so not my words

I always admit a quote

(having been properly educated note)

 '..is like a rat

with the plague

who will not stop

until everyone is smitten with the plague

or she drops dead..'

 'Has all been circled?'

she asks even the purple

so all is circled

but like myself

this test of their powers

is meaningless to normal folk

 All is circled goes like this

a secret programme being run

chaos theory shake everything up

with the new technology

of energy displacement

anything is possible

 all their crimes have to be repeated

in different ways to cover the first crime

so for instance

we now have the second pavarozzi

 or for instance

Harcourt is now repeated

The first was a Head teacher

who gave a third for a first from the machine

(with lab persons, this is now normal)

now Harcourt is repeated

(yes, it is world wide

few have resisted this evil)

 most will think it coincidences

but if you keep records

and know of what has gone on over the years

you will find that all is repeated

and the media plays with them

We had always trusted the B.B.C.

 and it goes on and on

like a bad play which will not end

He had warned his President

but be aware

it will really shake everything up

As someone said the other day

Brown is on their machine

so don't look for relief with him

 The lab keeps pushing theirs to the top

the stupid and the mediocre

No it doesn't shock us

chicken farmers once ruled Germany

with Hitler in charge

and the plague ridden rat

is exactly like her twin

 But Anna of the lab has America

and all its technology

He had not learnt the one thing

she knows to do so well

to smile, smarm or bed

anyone she needs

which order I do not say

 They tell me to talk-

you know the truth

you've known the truth

for a long, long time

why don't you talk

and so do plenty of others

know the truth

including my government

and the governments of others

hoping all will pass by

with a few patronizing gestures

don't ever tell me again

leaders are there to serve us!

why don't they talk

the grease on their palms

might thin and disappear....

 They tell me the lab St Barths

only tells a small amount

to each person it uses

That is its safety measure.

    THE GODFATHER

 In literature

you find it all

 reading the Godfather

I found this little tale

 'we wanted to be American

so we did as Americans did

 but they did not respect us for it

and abused us and destroy our lives'

 It echoes ours exactly

but we have no one to tell

 Coming here, we wanted to be british

so we did as british did

 expected to become part of them

expected their law to care for us

 Then their most evil attacked us

in every possible evil way

 you are so vulnerable

so boringly good they wrote

 just as the Godfather said

we found it doesn't work that way

 But we have no Godfather

to help us here

 Only our honesty and hard work

most of our people long gone over the pond

 Hard work?

I don't like to blow my own trumpet

 but shortly you will again for the umpteenth time

watch my ideas and phrases on Eastenders yet again

 The lab St Barths has had us as lab rats

to torture and rob and kill since eighty four

 on  their machine given them by the States

Nothing new has been found but much drowned

 except how to abuse more corruptly

such brilliant technology abused

 First they gave fails

and killed my lecturers

(sorry it's called manslaughter)

 then they gave low marks

It, that is me,  is the lab plaything now used for practice

 Not a human to us so called lab crap

But we are humans

 Then they decided

all we do and have done, is theirs

 besides using us for torture wholesale

'The Royals sadly chose the side of evil

 so can not now get out of it'  I quote this..

So again, more of my ideas

 will ring out of Eastenders

The L.A. Jew who designed this

 ordered this - make her work a household name

then she can never talk and yours will never be caught

 and so they did and have

as they continue torture to do

 Now a new twist

the directed thefts

 all work used is robbed

from our little two up two down

 so I can never prove its origins.

They say this is for England's future

 They say the jews of the lab began it

scared of being caught for what they had done

 and then it was continued

and will be continued

 raising their mediocre friends from nothings

such a corrupt country as Nero burns

 It is a sad world we came to

worse in many ways than Hitler's and Stalin's

 There at least we knew what and how to fight

and how and whom they were murdering

 The English do everything in secret

from killing their highest

 Should I tell all I know whom will they damage

Plenty of others know, -so you got away with it all?

 but history teaches us

England was always so

 Secrecy is so the population will not find out

as all the lab would all serve life sentences

 Secrecy is so it will not be found out in the future

as then the reputation of the country would suffer

 Strange country we came to

Wish we had a Godfather to help us..

 and the reason for this massive secret programme

against the population?

 seems totally pointless for anything

except the using of pure evil.

 we've seen it all before, where we came from..

when people do great injustices

 they always seek to convince themselves

that what they have done is just

 the writers are told

that they research, wished me to begin anew

 Told as I walked by Princess Alexandra Hospital

I must become a high class Prostitute by their boss

 heck, I was fifty and had had five children

crazy people, running a secret sex programme

 One day I might spill what they do in hospitals

especially as I nursed people there

 The devil incarnate

here in London...

 ..and sadly, I had no Godfather, only Godmothers

Dr. Milada Cernackova and Maria Simkova

 who baptised me in the chapel at Zochova Uliza

27th May the russians were in Bratislava

 and newly born mites were baptised quickly

whilst they still could.

 There were no men left!

  THE BLACK DEATH

They call it the 'Full-Monty'

It is what they do

when a government department

has made a very bad mistake

which within the population

would be called a crime

and that crime is discovered.

 With modern technology

and the friendly americans

who give away secrets

far too easily

to anyone at all

bless them

the full Monty

means just that

 and step by step

just as in Camp Five

(not for nothing

did the jewish scientist

in the States

refuse to take part..

It is just like

Camp Five, this

he said, no way)

 Now it is pustules

One Indian at the lab

wanted to prove

a mole could be made cancerous

(on me, on the machine)

I am not considered a human

they tell me

whilst sighing about

Auschwitz

The same jews we had saved back then!

 Before I set off for China

to teach there for a bit of a rest

though I love my tiny two up two down

little miners cottage

here on the foot of the Pennines

they put on the machine

on which I am kept prisoner

Pustules and sores

 Huge red pustules appeared on my hands

with thick yellow matter in them

then on my legs

My chinese pupils were very brave

not once mentioned them

I could not hide them

writing on the board..

slowly they dried in the chinese sun

Though someone on high

did say rather sharply

'do we really need the plague?'

 This is a favourite trick of the lab

using China for alsorts of pusillanimous acts

Once they took out my hair by half

which is what they do to the retarded

as punishment

from the machine

then tried to blame it on Chinese shampoo

and Lynne at Hommerton

carried on long after I returned to England

a few, a few, a few

just as they work

a few crimes, a few crimes, a few crimes

and no one will ever notice..

 The Pakistanis who run this show now

toilet cleaners and health workers originally

now being given the heights

exams all passed and all that crap

which the lab does in fact

merely laughed

(I quote them:

We hacked your bank account

and took five thousand for ourselves)

this is what happens in OUR country

Here we are allowed anything

It is so delicious

to torture elderly white teachers..

Anything at all

torturing british whites

 Last night he adding:

I have been torturing for Anna

of the Lab St Barths

for five years

and this country is much, much

much more corrupt than ours.

Well, I had always told them that

We have the two extremes here.

 The spite element?

always there with this lab

I had never suffered spots

and though not pretty as such

had always had totally clear skin.

 They now have new people in the lab

as they give the whole world

every advance the Americans had made

using us helpless useful citizens

TO THESE FOREIGNERS

They have a whole bevy of women

to use for their experiments

for them to practice on now

BRITISH CITIZENS

TOTALLY UNPROTECTED...

When patients died in the past

The Anna was heard to say

'they are so weak!'

 She gave permission the lab said

here is the form

here is her signature

but I never saw the form to read

I was never given any form

Nurse Hughes at West Ham Community Health

just yelled to sign or else

in May ninety-one..

 An East London solicitor

trying to find this form for me

after three solicitors had tried to find it

even found a form at St Barths

with my signature on it

Signed as I sat at the desk

of East London University

at a lecture on Business Studies

 Signatures and films

in England

are meaningless!

Putative thought that all is safe is mistaken

DON'T SIGN ANYTHING IN THIS COUNTRY

especially if it is a medical form - you think..

 My dad the writer Telewny

had Small pox as a kid in his native Ukraine

his face was pock marked

They were taken to a Gulag

for telling the truth

I remind myself

with each mark I look at from the pustules

nothing has changed!

 England will destroy the West

single handed.....

Nothing has changed.

 HISTORY

 Basically

Half of the history

of mankind

has been

ousting people out of their own place

 or ousting people who have come to stay

often for long periods

even of hundreds of years

in 'some one elses' place

often welcome for a while

 Consider, all through history

this has been the case

which is why

I would like to see a borderless world

having only one little twinge

 should a cow fly with a butterfly

should a snake give milk

should bird pull a plough

should a fish stand guard

should a worm fly to the sky

 people are likewise types

from places which are types

to which they have become suited

to which they build an inner attachment

which is built into them

 what balance are upsetting?

 When as a girl

come to the shores of England

(not of our own will, but invited)

longed to be like this new nation

having been a refugee and orphan

moving onwards since life's begin

emulated them in every way

went to Church of England schools

attended Church of England church

 Mavis from over the road

sternly spoke to me

"Renate Telewny

do not imagine you can be english

you will have to stay for three generations

then we will give consideration

if it is possible for yours

to join this nation."

 I had not listened properly

yet time and again

the same hammer was beaten

the same gong sounded

Now at last I have to listen!

 THE LABOUR PARTY ANEW

  She doesn't talk of what she knows

She won't say openly what is going on

She picks carefully what she reveals

She  is too close-mouthed

 We can't catch her out

We can't ridicule her

We can't destroy her reputation

We can't make her talk

 Get her to join the Labour Party again

We will get her to talk

To tell the truth of what is going on

To tell all she knows

 Then we'll get her on that one

Once a cheerful happy soul

Friendly to everyone

Chatty and trusting

 Do these English have any idea

what we come from

what it was like

to survive under Hitler and Stalin

 Exactly, BUT EXACTLY, like living here

on the machine of St Barths Human Research

which has no laws but its own

exactly as it was then....

 They call it an opportunity

to try out what  they please however evil

exactly what Hitler called it

Exactly what Stalin did.

 DID SHE REALLY SAY THAT?

 because you never talk about people

we did it for you

it was another of the damages

we put you through.

 The Ministries and their mistress

ensure no jobs mainstream

for our family

as they cannot afford

the scandal

incase someone, anyone

heard the truth.

 so a tiny, one man business I ran

often very successful

too successful

for the Ministries and their mistress

 It grew on my reputation

for good value

promises upheld

and total trust

as has always been the case.

 In old Bratislava

the massive jewish tailors

knew they could trust

the work of the little Hungarian

knew that he would never cheat them

no matter what happened

 ....and before that

our family was successful

as servants to our aristocratic families

Sumeg or where ever

as we could be trusted

it has always been the case

no matter what happened

 My clients

mainly Muslims

like the same qualities

so the lab had to break that trust

 "we destroyed your business

in this simple way

and other ways.."

 You never gossip

...I don't feel the need to

I write and paint

read of things and listen to music

I can't remember the nuns our mothers

gossiping when I was a child

with fifty and more children to care for

to grow our food and care for our home

why waste time in gossiping...

there are so many interesting things to do..

so we did it for you.

 Used by the lab

were the worst of RMN's

It makes me wonder

what exactly these women do

in their hospitals

 They tell me

stirring up trouble

destroying people

causing misery

is their job.

 I seem to remember

our nuns tried to make us happier!

 I wonder what that lab said I'd said.....

No I don't

They have nasty minds

It is better not to stoop as low

as those who live in evil deeds.

 ABOUT BABY GIRLS

 This is not my story

but there is a similarity

The words are not mine

but I will repeat them

to make people aware

even if they don't like to hear..

 This happens to so many little girls

from very tiny on

men, often from the same family

work them with their finger

constantly from babyhood

until the rupture is not noticed

 They then use them for themselves

Big brothers, uncles, nephews, men..

Often when these girls marry

Their new husbands beat them

However hard we try

it is impossible to keep our girls safe

say the mothers..

 I personally know of one woman

whose mother put her bed next to an old man

On her wedding morning to her young cousin

she was found in a pool of blood

 He has beaten her ever since

Though she was and is an excellent wife

even when she was holding their baby

till blood ran from her head

onto their baby

He blames her.

 One man answered this charge

This man is a professional at the lab

where several child rapists are employed..

Every man wants a young thing

not some woman

so we make them our own from birth.

 Babies and children are helpless

I left my children's home nuns at nearly eight

to come to live with a forgotten mother

and her new husband

in a new country..

underfed-

the size of a three year old they said

- thin and scared.

 She would send me in to the room of another man

'take uncle a cup of tea'

then took the silver he gave me away

He would sexually abuse me

constantly.

Later I hid.

 I could not tell her

I was a stranger to them

She was a stranger to me

I could not tell my new father

he was even a different nationality to me

as was the man

who was the same nationality as my new father.

I couldn't tell my new countrymen

They were different to me

I was a foreigner..

 My mother was a clever woman

but stupid in the wickedness of the world

a little, rich girl

educated by private Convent.

 When at sixteen a man really fell in love with me

had not touched me

wanted to marry me

she asked the doctor to do a virginity test

What the hell for

I was healthy and clever

The Italian lived a long way away

and anyway wanted to marry me

begging for one long year to do so.

 Though a Star Fighter pilot

the Italians had taken her beloved Tyrol!

I have to tell you something funny here

We also are part Italian in part of our family

her paternal grandmother's name was Bertodi!

Such a silly, with her passion for her Austria

-explanation, her mother was Austrian.

 Girls are always alone

Girls are rarely believed against adults

Girls are not believed by adults

Girls are helpless

Girls are smaller

Girls who are small are picked on

Girls are taught to obey

 I admire the girls, unlike me

who are lippy, mouthy and noisy, shouty..

I know they are safer girls

than the quiet girls, like me.

 I taught my own daughter to speak out.

These poor little mites

are having this happening NOW

Right NOW

this day

this moment

NOW

They have no way out

and many, many, many people know about it.

 I will get a bad name repeating it

I do not care

I know how much I suffered

So I know how much they suffer.

It is time doctors and others did something.

I begin to despair at doctors

 One of mine began a life of horror for me and mine

diagnosing a stress headache as an extra need for sex

(with five children?) which he said he had..

and to cover some of his odd actions

gave our name to Research to use as they wished, secretly..

 For crying out loud

what are doctors supposed to be for..........

 PLAGER ENOUGH

 quotes at 2.15 p.m. on Saturday over the t.v.

transmissions constantly broken into..

besides microsound

(sound on computer broken up and replaced on coordinates)

 If we plager her enough

she can't do anything about it.

Give them Rights to her work

 We had to destroy your heart

(you can feel when they press your heart valves

Four years ago I had one hundred percent health

and the British don't torture?)

 We did that to your mother and father

It is so we can say it is a family thing

Every torture possible was tried on you

There is no way you can prove it

there is no way you can stop us

We call it weakening you.

 We destroy absolutely everything

we don't count the cost

you are not a human being for us

not even a subhuman

we watch what can be rebuilt

 Unfortunately you won't play our game

No body knows

but everybody knows

we put it on films and ads

 Have you been seeding clouds

Yes, if you see it on films

believe it

we order the films to be made

a gradual introduction...

 ALAN GARETH – TEA LEAF

 Al came to the lab

Al took forty five paintings

from the machine at the lab

(they give all I do out

from that machine

from which they torture daily..

would that the americans

had kept their discoveries

in their well policed country)

all of them mine, sitting illegally at the lab

St Barths Human Research

 Al was asked by Anna

Mistress of Ministers and Civil Servants

who had used the new technology indiscriminately

amongst the people without telling

finally making a mistake

which many on high saw

 Anna asked Al

mix and match with yours

blend and personalise her work as yours

that is what they all have to do

later with directed thieving

we will rob all they have-

a poor lone mum with kids

 Anna had already put the order out

prison for the kids

having destroyed the family background

(it is called a live experiment they say?)

any pretext

two weeks for speeding

and three months in a category B

(rapists and murderers)

for a nineteen year old

standing guard for a friend pinching videos!!

(doesn't matter what for

once on record)

 Did you know the brits were so cruel

we certainly didn't

we refugees

poached from Australia

to come here in the forties

worked hard

never did any wrong

lived in poverty

for this freedom..

that's a laugh now

Yet they give terrorists who despise them

every freedom..

 (If I wern't a decent person

I'd laugh at them)

I have in my second book

which the lab has robbed from everywhere

along with the first

printed the copy of a form

the promise Britain made to us

if we would only come and live here and work

if we were respectable citizens

we would be treated as such

such liars...

 such liars they are

you all know

I loved the nuns of Bavaria

the mothers of my childhood at both Homes

the sharp and sweet of them

but they should have told me the truth

not glorified this place they were sending me to

Only the boys told the truth

fifty boys and five girls we were

and three nuns to care and grow for us

they said seven foot men on huge steeds

in red coats on horses would come and hunt me

and chase me into a corner into a hole...

 rather like the dreams I had later

when I had to run across a blackened Europe

on our bellies to save my last son

take him to my children's home in Bavaria

empty when we got there

he was safe

but a thousand green hands

dragged me under all night..

 and as for my new mum

with her glorious ideas of the Empire and the british

Couldn't they have guessed in old Royal Hungary

how the Empire was won

So much is never won by kindness

it is taken.......

thieves, thieves, thieves

that is what they said Esther Rantzen had said

then they beamed a mucky film

(supposed to be of me but yous all know me better)

into her studio

so that the woman I had stuck up for

also turned against me

Bad judges these jews!

 Nor at my C. of E schools

(where I was pretty happy- I liked school)

we did lots of stories about the Empire

little black men up trees throwing down coconuts

and I painted the pictures to go with the stories

and nasty evil Bible stories

going on in Israel, not here

but I forgot

my grandad had said

England is built on the money of the Jews..

and he knew

we had a man from the woollen industry

he came yearly to sell us navy blue

for the jews whom we clothed

back there in old Bratislava,

No one told the truth ever.......

 Now alan is having an exhibition of my work

with a line or two of his in it

with directed thieving

the young people

the slim young girl with black hair

living close by

taught by the lab to be thieves

(the only thing the lab teaches

is how to cheat, thieve and worse)

are now going to copy the paintings in my books

thieved by them

directed by the lab

 (the lab has used about ten thieves

I quote them)

 sektches of my daughter's godfather's suicide

they used to live in the opposite barrack to us

there at Warsaw Hamlet Refugee Camp

on the Lincolnshire Wolds

of our journey to the West

of our deaths and our lives

of bridges crossed

of orphanages and children's homes on the way to here

of all the horror we have gone through

(mustn't say, the English don't like it..

I was told over and over again)

which had never been spoken of before

we never speak of it

none of us

it sits in our hearts

so now english are robbing it all

to make money from our pain

 so finally I had put it all into paintings

though some at the College didn't like them

the Head Faulkner would smile

'well little Mrs artist, what today?'

 all done whilst at Art College

here in Sheffield our home

where they over tuned my lecturer

and a few more

(it's called manslaughter)

 Al the thief is a cheat

as are all those the lab sponsored..

a country full of cheats

 the boy who was tuned to steal all our histories

finds it is too foreign

he doesn't know how to use it

yet..

the lab used passage after passage

directed constant theft

is their cover...

  when it is all over

their Doctor Meyer had thought

we will return it all back to the home

as though nothing has happened...

 you were not supposed to write

or have been a real painter

we just didn't check anything

we never check anything

 and we chose this for our home?

 WOT PARTY?

 to all those of you

who have read

Semen Telewny's work

 to the Ukrainian millionaire

who wanted to sponsor him

to come to America

 and then stupidly

took him to the underground

in New York

 and frightened the daylights

out of him

a Kulak and a small town guy

 and those who knew Hilda

who though a terrible tempered

Hun who would fight anything

 but not now at ninety..

with her memory gone

but healthy and hearty in a way

 please know

regards recent issues

SHE WAS NEVER A MEMBER OF THE NAZI PARTY!

SHE WAS NEVER A MEMBER OF ANY PARTY..

 I  am the party member not she

of the Socialist Party..

and my dad wrote about the Parties

and their many foibles

 he used to say

young a communist

middle aged a liberal

old a conservative!

 Hilda's great delight had always been

that she had never once

raised her hand in salute

 though she had spoken to some of the mightiest!

(Hun's are a bit mad

even Hitler's mob realised that)

 and as a family

we live and have always lived by honesty

which is not always appreciated by liars and cheats

 end of that trial.

Now they have given me horrendous sores

Still claiming we are volunteers!

 PROVE IT SAYS THE TORY....

 MINISTERS AND MISTRESSES

 IT would take

just a few laws

to take away

the total power

which Ann of the lab

St Barths Human Research

the old concentration camp system

of Auschwitz, Belsen and the rest

and to leave them powerless

or controlled..

 to which she adds

"George of the New York lab'

has been been on the line

severel times.

If he thinks

we will help him again

he has another think coming."

 I seem to remember

it was George of the New York lab

who came to the assistance

when the London lab

has set off the alarms

at Santa Monica

and committed

gross crimes

international and national.

 George would have done well

to remember the past

Churchill in thirty nine

stood up in parliament

and said

'No jews, unless rich..'

personally, I think

they are all of them cracked!

 Should Blair have a third term

Anna of the lab St Barths was asked

No, he must go..

King maker and breaker now

as well as murderers?

 ETHEL OF SURBATON

   Ethel says she lives a life of comfort

Ethel says it is all due to the work given

Ethel copies all my twenty years of work to the word

 Ethel had one or two small successes before my stuff

Ethel had all her work returned from printers

Ethel copied exactly as told by the lab

 Ethel now sells all her stuff mainly to the t.v.

Ethel still copies all my stories and all sell

Ethel is also on the machine at the lab St Barths....

 Ethel wasn't ashamed when I saw her

Ethel was at my end of town

Ethel didn't recognise me from their illegal processing

 Ethel didn't have to run for lunch between teaching

Ethel should maybe come to East Ham College to see me

Ethel is too dishonest to do that and knows it....

 What with Ethel, Mrs Cricklewood

with Emma, with Brierley and all the rest--

we're allowed to destroy all the stuff given of yours

as for the devious Ernestine and Friedlander

the list goes on and on

 The stuff science can do now that I know of..

you think in the future you won't be known

as the cheats you are mix and matching or not

robbing University work and processing..

 Ethel, swaying her long brown hair

Ethel's hair is straight, unlike herself

Ethel, the cheat, now no longer has writer's block!

 and with the directed thieving

of all work from our tiny miner's house

and the wiping of half of my work off the computer

with their high power illegal lab computers

 Ethel need never worry

Ethel and the rest's cheating is covered

by the Lab St Barths Human Research....

 ALL FROM HER BOOKS..

 All this taking of words

all this taking of phrases

all this taking of sayings

 are they mad

are they sad

are they just bad

 simple idea by Ziegler of New York

(hope you had no cousins

in old Bratislava's jewish area

where we lived and gave to all)

barely known writer?

our writers pushed and raised to the top

 each newspaper

each type of book

each type of novel

every magazine

 no one will know

every one will think

all she has taken from all those books

though written long ago

into books much has been printed

 but don't worry

they are none of them professionals

the Americans told us how to do it

 If all professionals can do

is copy work

given them from a lab

which no longer cares for the retarded

 I am not sure what it is to be a professional

 TEENS..

 I have the need to share

something I have just been told over my t.v. remote

 presumably another research worker at St Barths

who abuses small children along with his co-workers

 There is no problem in this, he put over

They come when they are in their teens!

 Would this pervert male

like to let me know

 why our Creator, nature

what ever you like to call your God

 made childhood for?

just for his criminal lusts and those like him?

 Sorry guys, if I had the power,  I would have an answer

how to cope with you all so you never, ever did it again.

 UNBELIEVABLE

 Even Curry put some of it into her books

Even Blair used some in his speeches

They all came in and used it

Off the machine at St Barths Human Research.

 We thought you had signed

to be used

that is what we were told

no one checked!

 All those jokes were theirs

family jokes from all of them

right across the media

we sent them off in our names

 and all those opinions

we listen to you constantly

all are immediately sent off

here is another opinion/fact we say

 Why?

 The lab had tagged us illegally

nineteen eighty four

the bossess had given our work

to all her friends at the Ministries

 to curry favour she asked the politicians in too

do help yourself

our victims don't mind

they all came into the lab

 as all her staff had written down straight off the screen

and sent it to where ever they wanted

Monologues, stories and what ever

she had to cover them all

 Friedlander tells us today

he was told I was at an orgy

(I've only ever been to two parties

and they were no orgies)

and I don't want any of the work anyway

so he could use it all

 Then they added

Friedlander is an idiot

and all the rest of them

idiots to be used by such a scam

 so that way the lab is safe

by the total criminalisation of the whole country

to cover the gross misconduct

of one little gov. lab which should care for the retarded

 added the bossess

"I gave the Ministers and Civil Servants my body

they have to take care of me!"

Major didn't do anything, nor did Thatcher...

 Blair helped the criminals of criminals to crime

few know what he did to his country

such is western freedom. Artists artificially created.

Freedom for whom. Setting off international alarms

 gross misconduct used to be a crime

and they had already had a warning

 We (tv) had to ask

Did Prince Charles use her work too?

answer:

Yes!

 Yea Gods!

[jojo-fantasy-aus]

Fantasy au!

Josuke x F! Reader- Ch 2.

It takes Two.

Quick TW for creepy, handsy old men.

If trying to find all the parts on Tumblr isn't your thing, you can also find my story under the name "It takes two" on AO3!

(All of my MK works from my @dinogoofy account will be posted on A03 shortly as well!)

   Your eyes fluttered open, greeted by the awful sight of the sewer walls. Great. You were hoping that all of this had been an awful nightmare. The crook in your neck was a reminder of the unnatural position you fell asleep in. You went to run a hand through your hair as you tried to shake off the groggy early-morning feeling, but a flash of fear coursed through you when your hand got caught on someone's arm.

   "I'm glad you're awake. I was starting to get worried." You jumped at the Masculine voice, relief washing over you in a cool wave when you realized it was just Josuke. He was still sitting where he was when you fell asleep last night, and you tried not to blush when you finally processed that you had fallen asleep on his shoulder. His blue eyes looked tired, and you knew you probably did too. You mumbled an apology before sitting up straight and stretching your arms, Josuke following suit. 

   The silence was almost overwhelming, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak up. Everything just felt, numb. Like you were drained of all emotions exempt exhaustion.

   You watched as Josuke stood up and started to walk back to the grate.

   "Ya'know, I don't think you ever told me your name." The words caught you off guard, laughing at yourself for managing to forget something so simple as a proper introduction. You gave him your name as he looked through the grate.

   "It looks like it's around noon, if you were curious." Noon? Holy shit! How long had he been waiting for you to wake up? 

   "Sorry about falling asleep on you." -was all you could think to say. Josuke smiled, walking back and holding out a hand to help you up. You took it gently out of habit, after everything that had just happened, you couldn't care less about being ladylike.

   It was infuriatingly hard not to notice how muscular he was as he pulled you up.  Once you were good and standing you couldn't help but wonder where to go from here. Where to even start looking. Neither of you even had a good picture of exactly everything that went down last night exempt from what Josuke had seen. You two had drifted back towards the grate when you spoke up.

   "Any idea where to start?" Josuke seemed to think about it for a second as he climbed the latter and pushed the grate back open.

   "I have a few friends that work in a tavern nearby. They tend to overhear a lot, so I thought we might as well start there." A tavern. You hadn't been to one of those in years. You never traveled much on the vacations and off-days the palace gave you, so you weren't quite sure how to feel about it. All palace gossip about them always pointed out the rowdy undisciplined adventures that gather in them, but surely they wouldn't be that bad? You had become a "rowdy adventure" yourself now, hadn't you? 

   The thought made you smile, never in a million years would you ever expect to be doing something like this. Work has always been the forefront of your personality, wanting to provide for your family and your future above all else. Only when you were a kid did you ever even dream of being an adventurer. Josuke called your name.

   "You coming?" He had already made it out of the grate while you were caught up in your own thoughts, waiting patiently for you at the edge.

   "Yeah, sorry. I was...thinking."

   The brisk walk to the Tavern revealed all sorts of horror. You didn't quite realize that Josuke had dragged you back into town yesterday until you left the alleyway. You and Josuke wandered near the palace gardens, where the tents had been, to try and figure out what started the panic.

   It was horrible, blood splatter on the fountains, guards everywhere. Tents torn and trampled, the beautiful gazebo broken and bloody. Nearby was a single wheelbarrow filled with… with bodies. Bodies that wore palace uniforms. You couldn't bring yourself to look any longer.

   Josuke's face was steely and angered, posture tense. He was definitely handling the situation differently than you were. A flash of anger and shame bubbled up in your chest the more you thought about yesterday. You wish he would've stopped to grab Koichi, or the princess, instead of you. He could've saved them if he tried. It wouldn't matter if you were dead or kidnapped, at least they would've been safe. you pushed the feelings back down. Josuke was probably still ashamed, you couldn't blame this on him. 

   You felt useless looking at all this devastation, and felt even more so when you started to tear up.

   "Josuke, can we leave?" Your broken whisper cut through the dead silent air, Josuke looking back at you, face shifting into a softer, kinder look. You must've looked pitiful to evoke that kind of reaction, and you hated it. You hated feeling weak.

   "Yeah," 

   As you and Josuke started to leave, you noticed a crowd had gathered to gawk at the destruction. A paperboy walked over to the guards doing cleanup, talking briefly before taking out his bell.

   "The king is alive! This king is alive! Princess Yukako yet to be found! Find your family and pray!" The crowd started whispering to each other, and as more people added to the mass it became harder to push through them to get out. You almost lost Josuke in the fray, but once you pushed through and into the empty street he was right there waiting for you.

   "Are you ok?" You looked at him in confusion, and only realized why he was asking when you felt the tears sliding down your face. 

   "I'm fine." He clearly didn't believe you, but he didn't say anything as you wiped your tears. 

   Before long Josuke was leading you down endless streets, taking twists and turns that you had forgotten after being cooped up working in the palace for so long. All of it started to feel so nostalgic. A familiar sign here, an old residential street there, it was nice to be back where you started. 

   That's how the journey started anyway, the closer you got to this Tavern the more people started to recognize Josuke, and by people, you mean women. One after another would run up to him and say hello, ignoring your presence all together. Every time that happened he had to shoo them off with some excuse. You couldn't imagine being that popular with the opposite sex. 

   You scoffed at one particular woman who shot you a nasty glare as Josuke got her off his tail. Josuke was handsome, sure, but these women were getting ridiculous.

   "Sorry about that. It's like they follow me everywhere." Josuke said, exasperated.

   "It's fine," you lied, they were getting annoying. "You seem to be quite the ladies man."

   Josuke chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

   "Well, I can't say I know why," That had to be a lie. He had to have some sort of idea of how good-looking he was right? You two only walked in silence about a minute longer when Josuke stopped.

   "Ah, here it is!" The sign above the door read 'Tonio's Tavern,'. It was a rather nice, expensive looking tavern that was so loud on the inside that you could hear it from the street. It was even more architecturally beautiful on the inside, and you gawked as Josuke held the door open for you. This place was so beautiful you could hardly believe it was an average tavern.

   Josuke led you over to the bar, waving a man down as soon as he left the kitchen. He instantly smiled, waving before setting a few plates down. He pinched the ear of a different, sleeping man before heading over to the two of you. Waking the scarred, grey-haired man, who complained at him before smiling excitedly when his eyes set on Josuke. You were just sitting down as they both made it over to you.

   "Josuke! It's good to see you, friend" the taller one said, foreign accent thick. Josuke smiled, about to answer when the grey-haired man almost tackled him into a hug. 

   "Josuke! It's been so long!" Josuke pushed him off, definitely happy to see the guy but more concerned with his hair.

   "It's only been a day or two Okuyasu," They seemed to be such good friends, that you found yourself to be smiling at the "reunion" as well. This was the first time you think you've seen Josuke this happy. 

   After they had all calmed down, Josuke introduced the tall man to be Tonio, the owner of the restaurant, and the other to be Okuyasu, Josuke and Koichi's best Friend, who was a mercenary working as security for Tonio's tavern. Both of them were eager to meet you, and only Okuyasu became a little flighty when Josuke mentioned your connection to Yukako. Josuke was in the middle of a sentence when he quickly realized that maybe he shouldn't be talking about this rescue attempt amongst the hustle and bustle of the tavern's lunch hour. Josuke called your name.

   "Hey, Okuyasu and I gotta head to the back to discuss. Are you gonna be ok alone?" 

   "I'll be fine," you were tired, but you weren't completely defenseless. Josuke seemed to understand and made sure to order you some food before he left.

   "You really don't need to do that," Josuke didn't really give you a choice, giving you a knowing look as your stomach rumbled frustratingly on cue, whispering something to Tonio about the food. The distrustful part of you hoped he wasn't going to poison the food. Tonio came back with your food shortly after Josuke and Okuyasu disappeared.

   "Just call if you need anything, bella." The words rolled off his tongue as he set the plate down. You nodded, thanking him with a smile. Once you started eating you found out very quickly why this place was so busy. It was delicious, the dish was just as foreign to you as Tonio's accent, and yet still so amazing. 

   You were thoroughly enjoying your lunch when a stranger sat down on the barstool closest to you. Immediately your skin prickled, stomach turning as you realized just how many stools were still unoccupied. It was uncomfortable to say the least that this man had sat right next to you on purpose. 

   "Hey girlie, what are you doing here all alone?" His voice was so gruff and scratchy that it almost made you feel sick. 

   Just ignore him, you said to yourself, you have to ignore him.

   "Hey, I was talking to you, bitch." He snarled, pulling your plate away from you. What could you do? Your eyes fluttered around the room nervously, keeping your head down so that the man could see you looking for help. Damn, Tonio, Josuke, Okuyasu, none of them were in sight. You felt like an idiot for staying put, but you were a grown woman. You could defend yourself if you needed to. 

   "Are ya deaf or what? I'll show you what happens when you ignore me!" The screeching of the stool against the floor made you flinch. Finally looking up, wide-eyed as you stared at the man. He smirked when you did.

   "Oh, so ya can hear ya nasty bitch," He sneered, his voice had started to raise, and before you knew it all eyes in the tavern were on you. He raised his hand to hit you when a figure approached him from behind, grabbing his arm.

   "Just what the hell are you doing?" Josuke stared him down with a calm intensity, Okuyasu on his heels, looking the same way. The man snatched his arm back with a scowl, massaging it like a wounded dog.

   "And who do you think you are? You two punks should stay out of a man's business." Josuke was clearly holding himself back, Okuyasu not doing much better as the man screamed in their faces. Something on his shoulder when he was turned caught your eye. It was a tattoo. A tattoo with a curling insignia, thorns and words you couldn't read taking over the expanse of it. You got a flash of the one you saw last night clear as day in your mind. You looked up at Josuke in a panic, mouthing the words to him the moment you caught his eye.

   The insignia,

   Josuke smirked, but his eyes looked dangerous. The man started to tremble once he realized he couldn't intimidate the pair. 

   Okuyasu grabbed him first, grabbing onto the back of his collar and dragging him out the side door and into the alley. Josuke followed right behind. The crowd gawked and stared, and you started to sweat. There was no way you were going to stay here. You followed your friends out the door.

   When you made it out and closed the door, Okuyasu had already started roughing the guy up. He definitely fit the build of a mercenary, and he got the guy taking in no time. Josuke stood in front of you, whether to block the scene or be defensive of you,  you didn't know.

   "L-look! Ya ain't getting anything out of me!" Another punch landed on his face. He groaned in pain, but continued to blabber.

   "That stupid shorty and the royal bitch are g-gonna be dead! Ya hear me! You can't do shit-" Okuyasu slapped him this time, groaning and turning to Josuke.

   "Really think this guy is worth it?" 

   "Yeah, as soon as we can get him to talk anyway." Josuke stalked over to the guy, leaning down to get in his face.

   "Okuyasu, which ball should we remove first, the right, or left." Josuke smirked wide as the man gulped in fear. You had no doubt they were bluffing, but he sure as hell didn't.

   "Ok! Ok! I'll tell ya how to find them, just don't touch my balls!" Josuke stood up straight, waltzing back over to you. 

   "Go talk to Tonio about renting a room, yeah? I have a feeling we're gonna be here a while."

   Renting a room at Tonio's was cheaper than you expected it to be, but you still had to split the coin for it with Josuke. You didn't care about the coin anyway really, it was the fact that he only had one room up for rental that night.

   Even if you stopped caring if your actions and the way you dressed were unladylike, the fact still remained that an unrelated man and woman sharing a room together out of wedlock was… unseemly, in the public's opinion. You yourself tried not to judge anyone's actions, but the thought of the women courting Josuke finding out made you shudder. You weren't worried about Josuke pulling any tricks, he was growing on you the more you were around him. 

   Tonio's rental rooms were quite pleasant, that you couldn't deny. With a large central bed, a couch, and a bell for tavern room service, this place was definitely targeted towards nobles. Tonio had even laid out some medical supplies just in case you and josuke were hurt.

   It didn't really make sense to you though, Tonio apparently knew of Josuke's healing abilities, wouldn't he know Josuke could heal himself? ... He could, couldn't he…?

   You gingerly pressed your thumb into the grooves of a jeweled flower necklace that you had forgotten you had. Tonio had given you and Josuke some clothes for the night, and when you changed much earlier you had found the necklace in your pocket. It was a gift from Yukako, and you had meant to put it on before you left for the festival. You must've shoved it in your skirt pocket as you rushed out the door. You had been fiddling with it for a while now as you observed the street from the second story window, relaxing on the rugged Camelback couch.

   You spotted Josuke from the corner of your eye, entering the room looking a bit disheveled. He definitely seemed exhausted.

   You gave him a slight wave that he returned with a smile, walking over to the bed where his clothes were laid out. His smile made your chest flutter a bit, and your stomach feel strange. You passed it off, you refused to fawn over someone so easily.

   You were pointed toward the window still, but you would be a fool if you couldn't tell he was changing behind you. He had tugged off his chain mail some time ago, when you had first rented the room, but now had started taking off his shirt.

   "Do you have to do that, here?" You say, immediately stiffening up and desperately keeping your eyes on the flower. Josuke chuckled.

   "You seem much too proper to look, Miss lady-in-waiting, so I don't really mind." You scoffed, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself in-check. Your face was quite red already, you knew, and you glanced up at the window to direct your attention at the men putting out the lanterns below.

   Unfortunately, with darkness afoot and lanterns burning bright in the room, all you could see was Josuke's taut muscled back in the reflection of the mirror. 

   You were more concerned than aroused when you noticed the cut across his back.

   "Josuke!" You called, turning around in your seat. He looked back at you, chest still full on display, making it a bit hard to focus on scolding him.

   "What happened to your back?" He smiled nervously.

   "Ah, well… I had to help Okuyasu throw out some assholes who started a bar fight, and one got me with a glass, my healing abilities don't really work on myself… but it's fine, it's not that bad." Your eyebrows furrowed, this must be exactly why Tonio put the supplies out. It occurred to you that maybe this was a regular occurrence for Josuke. You stood up from your seat and rushed over to the bed, pulling out the alcohol and cloth. 

   "Sit." You curtly commanded as you tugged the cork out of the bottle.

   "Seriously don't worry about it, I'll-"

   "Josuke. You can't possibly be thinking about not disinfecting that."Josuke laughed as you grabbed a hold of his arm and pulled him down onto the bed, facing his back towards you as you got to work. Josuke complained dramatically a few times but he was smiling while you told him to keep still.

   The wound wasn't too deep, but it still could've gotten infected if he let it be. Josuke hissed a little as you wiped away the blood. You apologized quietly as you focused. You set the cloth down and closed the bottle back up when you finished.

   "Thank you." You blushed, mumbling a shy 'you're welcome' as he stood, flexing a bit before putting on a night shirt that fit him a little too well, neckline dipping low, dark green in color.

   You ripped your eyes away and set the basket of medical supplies on the floor. Picking up the flower necklace off of the couch cushions and clasping it around your neck. Laying down a knitted blanket over the couch as a sheet shortly after and settling yourself, ready to sleep. 

   The sound of Josuke calling your name made your eyes fly open.

   "What do you think you're doing?" You sat up, confusion written all over your face.

   "Excuse me?" He was still smiling.

   "You can't possibly be thinking about sleeping on the couch?" He was clearly mocking you from earlier with a smirk on his face, which annoyed you to no end. You rolled your eyes at him as he stepped forward.

   "Yes, that is what I was trying to do. You're too tall to be sleeping on the couch Josuke, I was being courteous." Josuke was still smirking as he leaned over you, hands on the back of the couch to trap you in. You opened your mouth to speak but only gasped as he suddenly snuck an arm under your knees and another under your head to pick you up in a bridal hold.

   "Josuke! P- put me down this instant!" You squeaked. He only responded with a hum as he roughly dropped you on the bed.

   "What kind of knight would I be if I made a damsel in distress sleep on the couch?" 

   "I'm no damsel in distress!" You insisted as he walked back to the couch, landing on the cushions with a thump.

   "You were definitely in distress when I found you."

   "No I wasn't!" You were laughing at that point, he playfully scoffed at you and you responded by chucking a pillow at him. He caught it as it hit against his chest and put it on the couch where he could sleep. Rolling over on his side that faced away from you. 

   You couldn't help but stay smiling as you stood to blow out the lanterns, speaking softly as you returned to the bed. 

   "Goodnight, Josuke."

   "Goodnight, fair damsel." 

[everyothermouse]

Made some designs for my old superhero au for funsies, enjoy

I am going to take this as an excuse to talk abt this au, some backstories and design details under the cut :)

Tw: suicide attempt (peters backstory) and abuse (hash’s backstory)

Also, i gotta warn you that the backstory descriptions get longer as we go on, as the longer i write for, the worse i get at being concise. My apologies!

Peter

Power(s): control over the shadow realm

Power triggers: fear, depression, sadness, anger, focus

Relationships: hash (daughter/apprentice), genny (ally), ms. Garner (friend/ex nemesis), gabby (ally), prince (assistant/nemesis) princess (nemesis?)

Backstory: Tried to die in a vat of Poisonous Liquidtm but due to the nature of the experiments Done by damian at Unnamed Lab Owned By Damiantm, instead of dying his misery manifested through shadow powers. He was a shadow for a bit before he was able to start being a person again, and he was so upset about being alive that he decided he needed to consume the entire city in shadow so everyone else would have to be miserable like he was. He would be repeatedly thwarted by a superhero in the city named flower girl, who would eventually (over the course of like 3 years) forcibly found family him. He now has a job and uses his powers for good, and has recently taken up a superhero apprentice :)

Design notes: the heart clasps on peters cape and arms were originally by Ms. Garner before she retired as a superhero. They are tools used to help focus magic, making it easier to stay centered and to direct magical forces. The heart in the middle changes color based on the magic surrounding it/running through it, for peter it is black, but for Ms. Garner it was red/pink. Peters crown is made of the same material, but is not quite as strong. Peter mainly focuses his magic outwards using his palms and the soles of his feet, thus why they are uncovered. Villain peter looks a lot less alive than current peter partially because of being magically exhausted, but mostly just because he is in very bad physical health, having dipped himself in a vat of poison and proceeding to get 0 medical help, and then also not eating or bathing and living on shadow magic and depression. The boots previously used for villain-ing are now his work boots :)

Genny

Power(s): super strength

Power triggers: N/A

Relationships: nut (son), mellisa (friend), gabby (ally), Ms. Garner (friend?), hash (ally), peter (ally), damian (enemy)

Backstory: genny was a single mother and teacher living a normal life when she was caught in a catastrophic event as the city’s super villain the week was wreaking havoc in the middle of town. When a car came flying at her child, she had no choice but to rush forward and try to get him out of the way. Usually this would have ended in disaster, but thanks to a mix mothers hysterical strength and the strong magic energy radiating out of one of the destroyed buildings (it was U.L.O.B.D., because its always fucking damian isnt it) she was suddenly imbued with the strength to block the car and escape. Soon she would realize that this effect wouldn’t go away, and thus she decided to try and use this ability to help protect the city from all the dangers which threaten its safety.

Design notes: the knife on her leg is attached with a very strong magnet, it is difficult for others to remove but easy for her to thanks to her strength. Her body armor is all much stronger than the other three’s, as having armour that is lightweight isn’t a priority for her in the same way it is for the others, due to her strength. Genny doesnt actually have that much more muscle mass than a normal reasonably fit person, as her super strength is not connected to this. She wears contact lenses in her daily life, but after the event in which she got her super powers her eyes are entirely white (nut’s eyes are also lightened, but not to the same extent as genny’s, you can actually see them from more than 2 inches away.)

Hash

Power(s): control over earth/rocks

Power triggers: fear, excitement, focus

Relationships: Peter (parent/mentor), genny (ally), gabby (friend), prince (annoyance),

Backstory: Hash has had the ability to move the earth since she was born, but her parents always shunned her for it, saying it was destructive and evil, and so was she. She was forced to repress her powers and was often neglected (and occasionally hurt) by her parents, as well as frequently being forced to socially isolate herself from peers and teachers due to her being “too dangerous.” She tried to run away from home, feeling as though she was a danger to her parents, but when she was caught she freaked and accidentally used her powers towards her parents out of fear. Her parents called the police, making her more afraid and causing her to become more destructive. After a couple days of chaos and no one being able to defeat her, she would eventually be talked down by [whatever tf peters superhero name is], a superhero in the city who had previously been a villain but was changed through kindness and love and what not. It took a while after that to convince her that she wasn’t some horrible monster, and to get her a way from her previous household for good, but now shes a lot happier and has moved in with peter. She’s also started practicing using her powers, although its pretty hard for her given she spent all the time that her powers were developing not using them, and thus doesn’t know how to control them at their new level. She likes to tag along and try to help out on superhero missions, but honestly her main focus right now is trying to make friends and become accustomed to normal daily living, which is difficult when you’re constantly afraid of everything and have no idea how to talk to people.

Design notes: her small cape/cloak is an old one of peter’s. She hand painted on the rock pattern and the green inside, and its not perfect but she likes it. Just like normal hash, she cut the sleeves off of all her shirts, even the ones that weren’t damaged, back when she was at her old household. After moving in with peter though, shes started wearing more long sleeved shirts :) . Hash may lift rocks from the ground and stick them to her body as impromptu armour when shes distressed, although she usually doesn’t purposefully do this as its not actually very good armour, its just annoying.

Gabby

Power(s): fire manipulation, lizard stuff

Power triggers: lizard: N/A Fire: focus, anger

Relationships: peter (ally), hash (friend/ex-rival), Dario (nemesis/enemy/rival), Akira (friend/ex-rival), genny (ally), Ms. Garner (mom/mentor), Mrs. Harvey (ally/girlscout troup leader), the other Mrs. Harvey (Girl Scout troup leader/ally)

Backstory: ever since she could walk gabby was convinced she had the ability to control fire, But none of the other kids at her orphanage ever believed her, and neither did anyone at her school. One day though these powers were put to the test, when the orphanage took fire and she rushed in to help the local super hero evacuate the other kids while the fire fighters were still on their way. It was at that moment she decided that she could be a superhero too, and that the poor superhero present at the time, flower girl, would be her mentor. She followed her everywhere being the annoying curious child she was, but all flower girl wanted was her to stay out of danger and go home to her parents (which she would eventually realize gabby didn’t have.) But when gabby proved her worth and saved flower girls life, flower girl finally caved and decided to start training her, as long as she promised to try to be more cautious, and to stop skipping school to follow on dangerous missions. From then on they were an amazing super duo! Together they fought villains and used the power of kindness and pretty flowers to brighten peoples day :) and after a while ms. Garner would even end up adopting gabby, yay!

Eventually gabby’s lizard features started growing in, which was pretty scary. But her mom showed her that they weren’t all that bad, and gabby realized she could use them to help out on super hero missions! Peter, who was flower girls nemesis, would move in with her and her momma temporarily while he was getting better, as he was very sick while he was a super villain. She decided to adopt him as her new second parent, which he never agreed to, but I mean hes never denied it so its basically true. Several villains and other hero’s have also been added (and removed) from gabby’s growing list of parents. After her mom got hurt really badly in the hash incident, she decided to retire from being a superhero, deciding that she needed to put more focus on her safety so she could take care of gabby. Gabby has continued fighting crime, now taking up a more independent role as a superhero because she’s a preteen and thinks shes mature, but she usually works alongside other superhero’s in teams or as partners, as her mom requires she have adequate supervision (bcus shes LAME.) She still gets somewhat serious treatment from other superhero’s given that she technically does have more years of experience in the field than like half the cities heroes and she has had a major role in taking down multiple big villains, but she’s still a child and is generally not to be trusted on her own, as she is minority stupid and majorly reckless.

I’m sorry that was so long,,,,,, it could’ve easily been 1 paragraph but i have failed 😔

Design notes: gabby isnt wearing shoes under the legwarmers in hercivilian design, she likes the good grip her feet give her. Sidekick gabby’s stick can make fire just like her current one can, but it does not have the other functionalities. Her stick is not just for magic stuff, she also wacks people with it, and knocks them off their feet and stuff, its quite sturdy. The thick line on her face is just face paint for funsies and to make her a little bit less recognizable (only barely tho.)

[no-gorms]

Hi Annie! May I request a ficlet with Steve winking at Tony? I just realised I don't remember ever reading a fic where he's the one winking....which seems like a missed opportunity tbh

Hi! I don’tthink this is what you had in mind, but with Endgame reaction stuff goingaround recently, this spontaneously popped up in my brain.

Post-Endgame, everyone lives, Steve/Tony first kiss, feat.Morgan, Bruce, Thor, Natasha. (also on ao3)

+

When Tony told the team that he was thinking of having a few people over at the lake house today, Steve foresaw two possibilities: one, a handful of Avengers crowded on the porch in a rather more cheerful reprise of their time travel proposal of a few weeks ago; two, a full-on party.

They got the party.

Where on earth Tony got the canopies and catering a mere day after the Battle of Earth (as they’re calling it), Steve has no idea, but here they are. Avengers – core, new, ancillaries, allies, friends and loved ones –flood the grounds of Tony’s deceptively rustic home, eating and drinking and laughing and showing off their abilities. Luckily it’s a daytime gathering so alcohol is less an issue thus far; it’s daytime to accommodateMorgan, of course, who declared herself a VVIP earlier and is being bolstered around on Tony’s arm as he introduces her to everyone.

Not that Steve’s been watching them (Tony) walk around and play host, Morgan quietly excited and her father looser and more upbeat that Steve’s seen him in literal years. And even if Steve is watching Tony, it’s only out of concern that Tony not push himself, not after the close call with Thanos, the other close call with the gauntlet, and the freshly accumulated stress of the past five years leading into a one-chance time heist. The episode isn’t even really settled yet, what with the stones under lock and key somewhere in these very grounds, since the compound is a square mile of rubble and very few places on earth are safer than an Avengers tea party slash mosh pit.

Still, it pays to be vigilant. On Tony. Due to his health, and his status as the focal point for today’s gathering.

So Steve tells himself.

He used to be better at papering over his own motivations. If anyone asked, he’d say that he’s distracted from the party by thoughts of tomorrow. There’s still a lot of work to come – rebuilding, networking, accommodating the return of half the world’s population and all its associated complicated trauma – which is so beyond the Avengers’ original purview that they might not even need the team for that. It’s Natasha’s call, anyway. Steve will probably follow her. Clint brought Laura and kids today, but he’ll be leaving tonight. Bruce has his own work elsewhere now. As for Tony, no one knows what the hell he’s going to do next.

Steve certainly doesn’t expect Tony to be approaching him now, with Morgan still making a swing of the crook of Tony’s arm.

“Here you go.” Tony practically tosses a laughing Morgan at Steve. “Free up my hands for me, won’t you?”

“Sure thing,” Steve says, having accepted that he’d never not do anything Tony asks of him ever again. Steve adjusts his grip on Morgan in one arm, and puts his plate down on a nearby table with his free hand. Morgan beams at him, while at the corner of Steve’s eye he just catches Tony’s stuttering smile, as though he hadn’t expected Steve to roll with it.

“You want a drink?” Tony says, eyeing the nearest table spread. “I’m up for refuelling.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Steve says.

“Wasn’t asking you,” Tony says.

Steve raises an eyebrow. “That’s kind of rude.”

“Yeah, rude,” Morgan parrots, while Tony presses an outraged hand to chest. “He wants lemonade.”

“I would like lemonade,” Steve says agreeably.

“Geez, all right, as the lady demands,” Tony says as he bounds off.

“The lemonade’s good?” Steve asks Morgan.

Morgan shrugs. “I don’t know. We can try.”

Steve’s never held Morgan before, or talked to her properly before today, but this feels a natural extension of the rhythm he’s found again with Tony – the focus of shared goals and risks, the ribbing without hurt, the ability to be earnest without mockery – since that fateful day Tony rolled back up to the compound armed with little more than hope and a time travel GPS olive branch. But that’s not entirely right either, because they never had this easy rhythm off the battlefield before. It was only the shattering and its aftermath – and Steve’s learning the hard way that he had so much more to lose in the 21st century than he thought – that they’d found this.

“Are you staying here with your dad tonight?” Steve says. “Or are you going back with your mom?”

“Going,” Morgan says. “Too many people for sleepover.”

“Makes sense,” Steve agrees, looking out on the raucous mass with her. “It’s a lot of people. Do you remember everyone’s names?”

“Yes,” Morgan says, intense and offended. She presses a palm against Steve’s forehead. “Captain Thor.”

“Actually—”

“Captain Thor with the hammer. May I see it? Thank you.”

“You’re not tired of that,” Steve says dryly.

“No.”

“You know you can just ask actual Thor—”

“Captain Thor.”

Steve sighs dramatically, which only prompts Morgan to loop both arms around his neck expectantly. He does a quick surroundings check –Thor’s just a couple of feet away chatting with T’Challa and Hope, and Tony’s coming back over with a paper plate of pizza on one hand and a pair of lemonade bottles gripped in the other – and lifts his free hand.

Physically, it’s very different from the control he exerts on the shield. Mentally, the two are strangely similar, for much like how Steve just knows the shield’s trajectory at each throw, he knows that Mjolnir is coming to him. Today, the hammer sails in a parabolic arc, over the crowd spread over the lawn, and into Steve’s hand. There’s only a minor crackle of electricity in Steve’s hand when it lands, and it says a lot about the people present that barely anyone notices any of this.

Morgan bobs her head silently in approval.

Nearby, Tony huffs under his breath between bites of his pizza. The lemonade bottles are consigned to the table by Steve's plate, though sadly Steve's hands are preoccupied at the moment.

“Which reminds me,” Tony says, “no way that was your first time holding the hammer.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve replies, twirling said hammer on its handle.

“Right.” Tony holds out a mushroom slice to Morgan, who eats it without taking her eyes of the hammer. Tony’s smile is pure fondness, the kind of which sends somewhat intense flips in Steve’s stomach. It doesn’t matter that the smile is for Morgan; it just takes Steve’s breath away that Tony has so much love in him and, no matter that things didn’t shake out too well with Pepper, he still has unconditional outlets for that love. When Tony’s attention shifts to Steve, so does his expression to one of familiar wryness, “You knew exactly how to double-wield the hammer with the shield.”

Steve hums neutrally.

“How long you been messing with the hammer without us knowing, Steve?” Tony says.

“How long, Steve?” Morgan chimes in.

“Just a few times, back when we were in the Tower. Which was wrong of me,” Steve says meaningfully to Morgan. “You shouldn’t keep big things like that from your friends.”

Morgan’s focus is elsewhere, though. She’s twisting her mouth in cheeky thoughtfulness – she definitely got that from Tony – and holds a hand out. Steve obliges, and adjusts his grip on Mjolnir before holding the handle out to her.

Morgan tentatively wraps one hand around the handle. Steve eases his grip to the back of Mjolnir’s head, and subtly moves the hammer along with her.

“Worthy,” Morgan whispers.

Steve, grinning, slants a look over at her father and winks.

Tony startles and drops his pizza slice. Not the ground, which would have been neater, but to his shirt, at which the slice flips and flops while Tony scrambles, flails and fumbles, getting sauce and cheese everywhere, before finally salvaging it by stuffing the whole thing into his mouth.

“Butterfingers,” Morgan says primly.

Tony munches furiously, and does not look at either of them. While his daughter continues to bob Mjolnir against Steve’s hand, Steve’s captivated by the pink at Tony’s neck – a lack of sunscreen, or something else? It cannot be something else, because that would be ludicrous. Except.

“Goddamn,” Tony mutters. His eyes dart around wildly, and only for a mere split-second land on Steve before moving away again. Steve feels a prickle up his spine, along with a sense of anticipation and urgency, though without a clear goal to be seen. He’s seen Tony flustered before, but never like this, never because of him.

“Gotta clean up. You watch the madame, yeah?” Tony clears his throat and starts walking away from them, stiff footsteps towards the house.

Steve watches him go, heart hammering loudly over Morgan’s humming a tune to herself.

A shadow falls over them as Bruce approaches. “Excuse me,” Bruce says. “Hi Morgan, do you want another ride?”

“Yesssss.” Morgan lifts her hands up eagerly.

While Bruce sweeps Morgan up onto a massive bicep, Thor appears by Steve’s other side, a hand immediately clamping around Mjolnir. “I’ll take that.”

“And I,” Natasha says, sliding around all three men to take Steve’s plate from the table, “will take care of this.”

“What?” Steve says.

The three of them pointedly move away from him, focused on and chatting with Morgan as they go. Steve’s head swivels back and forth and back, before a sharp oh sends his limbs into action, pushing him into a quick jog that follows Tony’s path up to the house.

Tony’s already inside, having disappeared behind the front door. The whole house technically isn’t off-limits to guests, but FRIDAY has been pretty stern about who gets to come in (and even then, only because the garden bathrooms are occupied). She doesn’t say a word when Steve enters, though, so he follows the sound of running water to the kitchen, where Tony is washing his hands in the sink.

“Like an amateur, really,” Tony says under his breath.

“Hey,” Steve says, which doesn’t get much of a response beyond Tony’s increasingly furious scrubbing of his hands. “You want me to get a change of shirt for you?”

“Right,” Tony says, “because you know where my wardrobe is.”

Steve’s face grows warm, but he presses on, compelled by Tony’s not immediately kicking him out. “Would you buy that as a poor excuse to explore your house? Which is very nice, by the way.”

Tony mumbles under his breath. Frowning he may be, but he isn’t actually angry. Steve unfortunately knows what Tony’s anger looks like, and this is more embarrassed annoyance. Tony turns off faucet off and scowls when Steve offers him a drying cloth. He still takes it, though, and after drying his hands, dabs it at his stained shirt.

“Be careful,” Steve says, “your arm—”

“Oh my god, you can’t quit!” Tony exclaims. “You do not know how to quit! Wait, I shouldn’t be surprised by that.”

“Are you upset at me? Morgan’s with Bruce, I didn’t abandon her—”

“Why are you like this now?” Tony’s voice is shrill. “Why are you so wonderful now? Morgan can’t get enough of you, which is bad enough, but now the fight’s over and we did what we needed to do, and you’re still so—you’re so…”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly. “I know, I should’ve done better by you from the very start. But I’m trying, I’m really—”

“That’s not what I…” Tony shakes his head, a rapid side-to-side motion as though the man’s deeply rattled and has to express it physically. He sighs, the sound resigned and exasperated; it’s apparently a prelude to his tossing the dry cloth away and launching himself at Steve.

Tony’s lips are warm and soft and taste of tomato sauce. Steve doesn’t kiss back, too shocked as he is by the motion at all, which is over before he can even process it. His mouth tingles with the aftertaste, and the rest of him tingles at the depth of Tony’s wide eyes, filled as they are with hope and fear and surprise. Steve’s heart goes into double-time.

“Uh,” Tony says.

Steve kisses back. His hands find Tony’s cheeks, his palms brushing Tony’s facial hair in holding him close. Tony’s hands come to Steve’s waist, fingers digging in to the muscle as though making sure that he’s really there. Steve presses in, breathing rapidly through his nose as he does, and finds Tony’s mouth hot and wet and open.

In the deepening of the kiss comes a collective cosmic exhale. There will have to be talking later, which may help slow the dizzy, confused, ecstatic whirl that is in Steve’s brain, but that is later. For now he’s been given a gift, and he is not strong enough to not grab at it with both hands.

“Gonna mess up your shirt—” Tony says against Steve’s jaw.

“Priorities,” Steve says sternly. He comes back in for another kiss and Tony hums an agreement against his lips.

[yawnjunie]

monster hunting for dummies (1)

chapter one: so far, so bad

Description: Being a gruff, angsty teenager without a filter, you were not expecting to make any friends at your new school. After your first day of school, you decided to stop by the town carnival and have some fun for a bit. But five very annoying honeybees seem to follow you everywhere you go. If your fate hadn’t already been unfortunately entangled with these boys, then the mysterious object the bunch of you found at the fortune teller’s sealed the deal. Little did you know, this was the beginning of a long journey full of all sorts of absurd twists and turns. Word count: 3.4k Warnings: profanity, gore, lethal cuteness/diabetes-inducing fluff a/n: 💡 tip // if you’re on pc, ctrl + “+” to enlarge the screen for a comfy reading mode! we’ve spent a long time planning this story, so please let us know how you think of it so far :) without further ado, buckle in for a wild ride!

———

Wilson High. Probably the most dismal place on the planet. You stared straight ahead, lunch tray in hand. 

The cafeteria of the second best high school in the country lay right before your eyes, filled to the brim with top-notch jocks and nerdy A-holes. Someone behind you bumped into you, dangerously shaking the items on your tray. Feeling the weight of your backpack swing towards the right, you stumbled a little. So far, so bad.

You weaved your way through the masses of students walking to their usual seats, already busily chatting about their day. Of course, you kept your distance from the girls with the expensive backpacks and the newest cell phones. Not today, you thought, carefully balancing the food on your tray. Spotting an empty table in the corner of the cafeteria, you sat yourself down and started devouring your food without a second thought.

At least the food here is much better than anything from—

“Hey, you’re that new transfer, right?” A voice interrupted you mid-bite through your cajun pepper-seasoned chicken drumstick.

“Mmmfh, yeah,” you replied, wiping your greasy fingers on a cheap napkin. You looked up, straining your neck to meet the eyes of a boy who just spoke. Squinting from the fluorescent lights, you were only able to make out the looming shadow of the human skyscraper. He had a black backpack slung over his shoulder, and a basketball in the other hand. Who—

As you were sizing him up, his friends were already setting down their backpacks. “‘Bin, we’re going to grab lunch. Watch over our stuff.”

“Alright,” the boy said, awkwardly, seating himself across from you. 

“Oh, shoot, I didn’t mean to sit at your table.” You snatched up your napkin pile and picked up your tray. “Sorry.”

“Oh no it’s fine, you can sit here,” he replied, rubbing his ear sheepishly. “If you want.”

You sat back down, shoveling your food into your mouth as fast as you could without choking. This is so awkward. I might as well finish all this food and get out of here.

As you stuffed your face, you looked around at the noisy, yet dismal atmosphere of the room, filled with people you didn’t know and didn’t care about. New school, new air, yet nothing had changed. 

No matter where, school just sucked. It was a prison—better described as a hellhole— where bullies and other dull people turned the rest of the barrel rotten. Mental illness was a pandemic; everyone contracted it eventually, either from the schoolwork or from inhaling all the smoke coming from inside the bathroom.

The stuffy confinement of the walls could drive anyone insane. You felt the cool, smooth wall behind you with the back of your hand. This school could seriously be made into a mental ward, if it wasn’t already one. No remodeling required. 

Your gaze shifted to the boy in front of you. Of course, every place had its own share of the socially awkward. You, for one, had stopped caring. About nearly everything. In fact, you wouldn’t bat an eye if you failed all your classes; you’d probably end up being a farmer, either way. At best, you’d be a farmer with rudimentary knowledge of chemistry.

Sighing, you ripped another bite of your bread. Shit’s drier than Brandonbury’s humor, and that’s saying something. There was a long period of silence, which the boy in front of you filled by knocking his knees together and picking his fingernails.

Suddenly, you heard a slurred murmur coming from the space in front of you. “Um, wheredidyouusedtogo?”

“What?” Oh, right. There was a person there.

“Like, where did you go, before you came here.” He cleared his throat.

“Oh, yeah. I just went here and there.” You downed an entire carton of milk, wiping the milk mustache off your face with the back of your hand. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just… you know, we’re in the same English class.”

“Okay, and?” You were about to say, but you stopped yourself. Is that too cold? It was an astonishing act, for someone as insensitive as you to think about your words before you spoke. Not that you wanted to come off that way, you just, somehow, didn’t have a built-in thought filter like everyone else. But this time, you didn’t want to sound like a mean person to the first person to strike up a conversation with you in this shitty place.

“...Right. Your name is...” You studied his face. His friend just called him ‘Bin. Does he look more like a Woobin? Or a Yoobin? Changbin? Leebin? You furrowed your brow as you racked up more names. Trash bin, maybe? Haha.

“Soobin.” Close enough.

“Oh, yeah.” You chewed your food slowly, then swallowed. “Cool.”

The boy reached his hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

There was a moment of awkward silence when you didn’t shake his hand. Retracting it, he cleared his throat and looked away in embarrassment.

“Sorry. My hands are greasy,” you said with a shrug. You were wiping them on your last napkin when out of the corner of your eye, you saw his friends walking back with their first rate cafeteria food. Guess that’s my cue. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you announced as you gathered your trash, preparing to take your leave. “Bye.”

“W-wait,” Soobin cut, making you turn around.

“Here,” you said, wrapping your uneaten bread roll in a grease-spotted napkin and handing it to him, although it was quite non sequitur. 

He looked like he wanted those bread rolls. He was staring at them, for like, the entire time I was eating. Kind of creepy, but he’s probably hungry.

“T-thanks. See you around… Wyann, was it?” the boy stuttered, head bowed in embarrassment as he accepted the bread.

Did he pick it up during roll call? People with good memory are creepy. You wondered why anyone would bother to remember your name. It wasn’t like you stood out or anything. Just another face in the crowd.  

“What are you, an elephant?”

“What?” His cheeks flushed tomato red. “Are my ears too big for you?” 

I didn’t say anything about your ears, but sure. 

“Bye-bye.” You rolled your eyes a little. Weirdo.

You walked out the cafeteria and ambled aimlessly down the hallway, figuring that you’d find the bathroom eventually if you kept walking. How did the saying go again? Elephants don’t forget? It’d suck ass to be an elephant, then. Some things are better off forgotten, you thought, shaking off your awkward experience.

It took an eternity of walking, but you found the bathroom. After relieving your pea-sized bladder, you flushed the toilet with your heel and reached down to grab your backpack. 

To your horror, there was no backpack to grab. 

Being the health-conscious girl you were, you ran your hands under the water for half a second (without soap), then kicked the door open and rushed down in the direction you came. Back in the cafeteria, you scanned the place you’d been sitting at. Sure enough, your backpack was right where you left it, but it was now surrounded by 4 new faces.

I change my mind. I’d rather be an elephant than be in this situation. With a dreadful sigh, you walked up to the table.

“Didn’t you say she called you an elephant?” One of the boys snickered, before being elbowed in the stomach by a taller boy. Seeing you walking to the table, they all ceased their not-so-secretive giggling and cleared their throats, unnaturally leaning against the lunch table.

“Sorry to interrupt, just forgot my backpack.” Avoiding eye contact, you snatched your backpack and started to back away, but as always, the universe didn’t like making things easy.

“Your backpack? When’d that get there?” a boy with dark, curly hair remarked. 

“We talked while you guys were getting lunch. This is Wyann, she’s new here. And Wyann, these are the 4 biggest idiots you’ll ever meet.” Soobin explained.

“Okay.” You silently looked the four idiots up and down and they just stared back, both sides at a loss for words. With your eyebrow raised and them frowning back at you, this scenario was straight out of some Disney Channel show. Guess this bread boy isn’t very good at introductions. 

“So, Wyann, you’re a transfer? Where from?” Idiot #2 was a boy with wavy blue hair. 

“Here and there.” 

“Hmmm… do you–” 

“Dude, don’t you think you should be the one doing the talking?” Soobin interjected, eyeing his friend awkwardly.

“Oh, right, my name is Yeonjun. I’m just a dude. A really handsome dude. So yeah, you gotta stick around to find out more~”

And if I don’t want to? You thought it’d be pretty funny to say that out loud, but from past experience, you’d found that people didn’t tend to share your sense of humor. Boy, were they missing out.

“Okay.” You simply said.

Just finish saying your names! You guys have one job! Soobin prompted his friends to his left with his eyes.

“Uh, hi! My name is Huening Kai, but you can call me Kai. Nice to meet you. Umm, yeah.” He finished his sentence with a small nod, his curly hair bouncing a little.

“Okay.” 

“Well, uh, what is your name?” The boy asked after a moment of silence. He bottled his emotions up really well for someone who looked like he was going to burst from embarrassment the next moment. 

“I think you should have your ears cleaned out,” you said matter-of-factly.

“Oh… sorry, I’ll shower when I get home.” It would’ve been a funny comeback if he hadn’t meant it so literally.

Soobin violently facepalmed himself, turning around in embarrassment. When the silence ensued, you answered his question with a heavy sigh.

“You can call me Wyann, but really, my name’s Jared, 19, and I never f*ckin’ learned how to read,” you replied sarcastically. “Between the lines, that is. So I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to get going before lunch ends so I can find my next class, not that you care anyway.” 

Turning around to find your next class, you fetched your crumpled campus map from your skirt. Screw school uniforms. If I’m going to be suffering in this hellhole, I’m going to do it in a t-shirt and jeans, starting tomorrow.

You were about to turn a corner in the hallway when a hand stopped you.

“What is it.”

“The social science department’s that way.” A boy with scraggly blonde hair and round eyes flashed a friendly smile at you. Who is this again?

“And how do you know my next class is econ?”

“It’s ‘cuz I’m psychic. And also because all seniors take econ, which only has two classes, and since you weren’t in the first one, you must be in the second one. Here, I’ll help you find the classroom.”

“Cool.” People like this were the type that would get away with murder, and that was cool. But most people found your run-of-the-mill answers off-putting, even when you meant them. And so the rest of the walk took place in silence; for you, a peaceful one, but for him, an awkward one.

–––––––

Tick, tick, tick. 

Seconds seemed to slow into minutes. Rather than listen to the monotonous drone of your trig teacher, which was about as interesting as watching sandpaper dry, you turned your attention to your classmates’ side conversations. Not much of an upgrade, but it beat trig.

“Did you catch the latest episode of TEOTFW?”

“Dude, I nearly shit my pants at the part where–” 

You tuned the rest out to avoid potential spoilers, making a mental note to watch it later.

“Hey, doing anything this weekend?” 

“Don’t tell me you’re throwing another party.”

“Haha, you already know.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired of partying, Jackson?”

You didn’t think you and Jackson would get along very well. You had zero interest in parties.

“Wanna go to that carnival after school?”

“What? Since when was it in town?” 

“They were setting it up yesterday, so it should be open today.” 

“Oh my gosh, I’m gonna buy 50 corndogs.” 

At the thought of 50 freshly-fried heavenly-smelling corn dogs, you started to salivate. Sounds like fun. I think I’ll go check it out. After a few minutes of fiddling with your phone under the desk, you pinpointed the location, conveniently just ten minutes away. 

When the last bell rang after what felt like an eternity, you were the first one out the door. Your backpack had already been zipped and slung over your shoulder for the past 15 minutes now. Running across the asphalt of the school grounds, you bounded out the gates to sweet, sweet freedom.

On the bus, you took your usual seat: 7th row down, left side, aisle seat. Window seats weren’t your thing; no space to breathe. But then again, that was public transportation for you.

Ten minutes down the road from hell, you could practically smell the corn dogs. The venue was less than a block from the bus stop. It was impossible to miss the flashing lights, the bright colors, and the lighthearted carnival tunes. Instead of hopping off the bus at your usual stop, you jumped right off at the corner of the usually isolated street. And before your very eyes, what was usually a patch of empty grass was now bustling with people and fair booths.

Alright, let’s go get some corn dogs.

––––

Straight away, you ran into a dilemma. Right at the entrance of the place was a towering rocking Viking boat, your favorite type of ride. There was something strangely appealing about feeling your stomach was going to fly out of your body, almost as appealing as stuffing yourself to the brim with oily sausages. Now that you thought about it, you really like abusing your stomach. 

Okay, maybe a quick ride wouldn’t hurt.

Being the first person in the queue was among the greatest privileges of mankind. Of course, you went straight to the end of the boat for the maximum thrill. You swung your feet aimlessly, patiently waiting for the ride to start. Most of the riders were parents with their small children, who filed into the middle rows. I’m never having kids. Still, you were grateful for them, because they gave you the whole back row to yourself. 

The ride was about to start when a voice interrupted: “Wait, wait! Hold up, we’re coming– oh wow, I’m out of breath.” “Haha, you gotta get out more, ‘Bin.” 

Oh dear lord, please no. Not here.

“Or maybe you should quit eating so much bread.” 

“Say what you want about my physique, but you’ll never take away my bread rights.” 

Please don’t come over here, please don’t come over here. 

To your horror, you realized that there was only one empty row left and they were heading straight for it. In a frantic last-ditch attempt, you pulled your hood over your head and turned the other way in hopes that they wouldn’t recognize you. The wooden bench creaked under the weight of five new butts. And it was just your luck that Bread Boy happened to sit closest to you.

“Lucky there was enough room left,” the blue-haired idiot remarked. “Thought we weren’t gonna make it.”

“I’ll say. Maybe if you stopped eating so much bread–” 

“Stop teasing me about my bread already. Who are you to talk, anyways? All your nicknames are about food!”

“Well, at least I–” 

You rolled your eyes and filtered out the rest of their bickering. What are they, a married couple? Better dynamic than my parents, at least. God, I hope I never get mar–

The ship lurched, jolting you out of your thoughts, and nearly your seat too. For the first time in a long time, you felt a wide grin spreading across your cheeks. With the breeze gusting through your hair, the sensation of thrill in your stomach, and the view from the top of the boat, you felt alive for the first time in a while. At least, until the screams started.

They literally sounded like dying goats. They were hitting notes even you couldn’t hit, and you were a soprano. Not that you knew how to sing, but you could break glass when you stubbed your toe. 

The rest of the ride was not a pleasant one. Between the screeching and the obnoxious hyena laughter that followed, you were about ready to jam your fist down their windpipes. Luckily for them, the ride ended and they were spared from your wrath.

“Haha, that was so fun! We should go again!” 

Fun, you say? You might have laughed if you weren’t so angry.

“Actually, I think we should dip soon. I dunno why, but I’m getting the heebie jeebies.” Who was that again? Narrowing your eyes, you tried to pin a name on the boy. Oh, never mind. He’s one of the guys who didn’t introduce himself.

“Sure, Tae. You and your spidey sense have gotten us out of trouble too many times to count. But before we go, let’s grab some corn dogs.” The other four followed Tae’s suit and left the boat. It struck you as odd how they trusted his word so easily. What could he have sensed, anyways? Your bloodlust?

Whatever. Now that they’re gone, I’d like to actually enjoy the ride this time. 

Finally, you had the back row to yourself again, and you savored every moment of it.

––––

“Hey guys, can we not go in?” Soobin clutched his queasy stomach at the sight of the waterpark installment, shuddering as he recalled his near-death encounter in deep water as a kid.

“Are you scared because you almost drowned in the kiddie pool when you were five because your safety float deflated?” Taehyun asked, a little too loudly. It earned him a few glances from other people in the queue.

“Shut up! That did not happen!”

“Okay, but aren’t you kinda too old to be scared of water? To be fair, you’re over 180cm and the water here is barely a meter high.”

“Still! I don’t like cold water.” He frowned. “Can we please go somewhere else?”

“Like where?”

“We-we could go watch the circus performances!”

“No thank you. Animals in cages make me sad, and I didn’t come here to be sad,” Tae replied. “We could go watch that magic show at 7 o’clock if you want.”

“But that’s at seven!”

“You can wait for us if you want, grab an ice cream while you wait.” Kai suggested, at a crossroads between going on the waterslide and keeping his friend company. Luckily for Soobin, Kai being the good kid he was, he chose friendship. “I could stay with you if you want to go somewhere else, we’ll have them give us a call when they’re done over here.”

“Okay!” the aquaphobic replied immediately, shooting dirty looks at the three boys that chose to stay in line. Linking arms, the two set off to find the ice cream stand. 

After picking up their ice creams, they wandered through the fairground without any particular destination. After a while of “Oooh, let’s go into the Mirror Maze!” “No, that one has a shorter line!” and “Oh, look! A bread stand!”, the two boys had worn themselves out with their own antics. Or maybe it was just Kai who felt drained, because his counterpart seemed perky as ever, now munching on his fifth carbohydrate snack. The boy sighed wearily as he reclined in a rickety plastic chair, taking a sip of his overly sweet lemonade. 

Staring off into the distance, he suddenly noticed a young boy sitting on a haystack staring him dead in the eyes. The child looked about seven years old, his curly brown hair parted in the middle. Slowly, the corners of his mouth turned upwards without the slightest twitch in the rest of his expression. His eyes didn’t match his smile. Kind of creepy, but then again, kids are weird. Yet something felt off.

“Bro, these nachos are so good! I’m too full to finish it, you want the rest?”

“Psst!” Huening Kai tapped his hyung’s arm quickly and nodded in the direction of the boy. “Look at that kid. Don’t you think he looks kinda cree—”

“Hmm?”

“Wait– where’d he go?” The haystack the boy had been sitting on appeared untouched; not even the slightest buttprint remained. It was as if he’d disapparated. “That’s weird.”

“Oh, right! Tae just texted me saying that they were done over there. We’re going back to meet with them. Let’s go!”

“Alright,” Kai responded, sparing a few last glances before leaving. Call it a gut feeling, but something told him that this wasn’t the last time he’d see this child.

———

chapter one finally out! the original chapter was supposed to be around 7.6k words, but we had to cut it because it was too long 😬😬😬 thank you for reading :)

hmm, i wonder who that mysterious child is?

[hamletandthegang]

France- Part 4

“So who’s your friend?” Maggie stared up at Hamlet from where she was flopped on one of the fold-out chairs. Something in her face made Horatio think she already knew the answer.

“Hamlet,” he introduced himself, and reached out to shake her hand. She just stared at him hard.

“The prince of Denmark, huh,” she mused. “Not exactly what I expected, although not disappointing.”

Hamlet glanced at Horatio, who shrugged. “Yes, anyway, I need to get Horatio back home, so thank you very much for your hospitality, but-”

“If anyone sees him they’re gonna call the police. He’s wanted across Europe,” Maggie interrupted nonchalantly. Hamlet looked at her. “Also, you’re in danger just by being here. There are enemies everywhere, you know.” A humorous gleam glanced across her eyes. 

“Yes, but I’m sure-” Maggie cut him off again, and he frowned.

“I’ll go with you to the station, and make sure nothing happens.”

“Uh, okay, sure, thanks Maggie.” Horatio hesitantly said. She seemed different this morning, as if something had happened during the night. 

“Call me Maggs,” She said with a sour smile. “And we might as well leave now. Monica, can you get me my stuff?”

Monica shuffled around in one of the cardboard boxes in the room, and gave her a bag. She slung it over her shoulder, and crouched to get out of the small opening that led into the alley. Hamlet looked at Horatio like There’s no way in hell I’m gonna follow some crazy girl through a hole in the wall, and Horatio sighed and followed her. 

Once they had made it to the street, Maggs looked around. She scanned the area for a second, then quickly walked into the sunlight. It was extremely bright compared to the dim yellow light of the hotel’s backroom. Horatio squinted, but took Hamlet’s arm and followed all the same. The three of them walked nonchalantly down the sidewalk, trying to remain calm and seem natural. 

Horatio was ready to jump out of his skin. He had still not recovered from whatever they had given him to knock him out, although he didn’t realize that was what it was. He was still nauseous, but it wasn’t bad enough to warrant throwing up again. The sun hurt his eyes considerably more than normal, and the loud sounds from the street beat inside his head. 

Horatio had also not had time to process all that had happened the day before. He, for all he knew, had burned down a priceless cathedral, and the moment he entered Denmark or was recognized by any passers-by he would immediately be jailed or killed. At this point it might be a good thing. He was too dangerous to be around his friends. He might screw up and make another big mistake. He could hurt his friends. He might burn something else. He was a threat.

Hamlet touched his arm. Horatio flinched and looked up. “Hey, you good?” Horatio looked down at where his hands were shaking. His heartbeat was pounding in his head. 

Horatio took a deep breath, and looked back at Hamlet, “Yeah, thanks.”

Hamlet cleared his voice softly, “So, Maggs. Where did you and Horatio meet up?”

“I found him in the underpass.” She replied. 

The uncomfortable silence fell over them again, and Hamlet raced to think of something else to say.

Maggs beat him to it. “So, what exactly is your plan? Just sneak back to Denmark and somehow not get caught?”

“Uh, I guess so. I hadn’t really thought much past finding Horatio,” 

“Huh,” Maggs slowed down and walked closer to the boys. “We could stop at a restaurant for breakfast, if you want. This one hasn’t eaten in a while,” She gestured to Horatio. Almost on command, a wave of hunger hit him. Hamlet glanced at Horatio, and spotted the pained expression that crossed his face. 

“Yeah, you probably know this place better than us, breakfast sounds great.” Hamlet put an arm around Horatio’s shoulder, trying to support him just in case he passed out.

 Maggs took a long hard look at Horatio, and nodded. She began to lead them towards a little cafe down the street. There was something about her that neither of them could put their finger on. The way she looked at you like she could scan your whole body. It was slightly unsettling. Horatio tripped on a piece of the sidewalk, and stumbled forward. Hamlet caught him and pulled him back up. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He said softly, his face laced with concern. 

Horatio hesitated. “I- I don’t know right now, okay?” 

Hamlet nodded. “Okay, that’s okay. You can be not-okay, that’s fine.”

Horatio chuckled quietly at his friend’s rambling. 

Maggie stopped at the cafe opening, and walked inside to the small desk that sat there. She leaned over the counter, and said something under her breath to the cashier that they couldn’t hear. The girl gave a curt nod, and then Maggs said openly, “Can I have a table for three, please?”

“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.” The woman led them to a square table, and they sat down. The cafe was not super packed, but there were a few people sitting around. A young man glanced at Horatio’s face, and squinted at him as though he recognized him. Horatio’s heart leapt, and he sat down with his back to him, and put up the small paper menu to shield his face slightly. 

Hamlet handed him a gray beanie. “Put this on,” He whispered, “Your hair gives you away.”

Horatio nodded and tucked his curly blond hair into the hat. Maggs pointed out a cup of granola and yogurt. Horatio thought it sounded great, but then remembered that he had absolutely no money.

Hamlet was two steps ahead of him. “I’ll cover it, just eat, don’t worry about it.” 

Horatio almost cried. “God,” He put his hand on his face. “Thank you so much, I’ll pay you back-”

“Dude, just eat it’s fine.” Hamlet said.

“Okay,” Horatio croaked out, trying to breath and keep it together. It was hard.

A waiter came by and took their order. Maggs ordered a glass of vodka and a croissant. Hamlet, after an odd look at Maggs, ordered a sandwich. The waiter didn’t bat an eye at Maggs’ order, she was obviously a common customer. Horatio timidly ordered the yogurt cup, and tried to sink into his chair as the waiter walked away. It seemed like everyone in the restaurant was looking at him. Everyone knew what he had done. 

Maggs pulled out her phone, which had a considerable crack in the side. She opened a map of the metro, and pointed out a line that led up through the north end of Paris. “We’ll take the underground up to the end of the north line, and then I can hitch a ride on the bullet train all the way to Denmark, with only a few jumps. If nothing goes wrong, we should get there by sundown.”

“Okay, that sounds good. Are you going to come with us the whole time?” Hamlet asked.

“Yeah, why not. I’ve missed Denmark.” Maggs said, and laid back in her chair, tapping on her phone. Hamlet and Horatio looked at eachother. 

What’s the worst she can do?

They ate their food quickly, and headed back out. They reached the metro station, and went down. Maggs took out three cards, and scanned them, allowing all three of them to enter. They took an escalator down, and waited in the crowded terminal for the train to arrive. The tunnel filled with the familiar wind and screeching sound, and they struggled through the dense crowd to get onto the train. Because of the mass of people, Maggs fell behind a bit, and the door started to close before she had gotten her whole arm in. It stopped automatically, but she struggled to push herself inside. She slipped her arm back into the train, and closed her bag quickly.

The three of them held onto the bars on the ceiling and walls as the train jolted and moved forward. They stayed there for quite a few stops, until their capsule was relatively empty other than them. Their stop came, and the doors opened. They had just stepped out when -KABOOM! 

The far side of the train exploded. Horatio fell, pushed forward from the blast. The sound rang in his ears for a few seconds, and he put his hands over his head as he leaned on his knees and elbows. Someone was trying to push him up, but he couldn’t move. 

“Horatio! Horatio!” Hamlet’s voice shouted. “Come on! We gotta go!”

Horatio struggled to stand, and staggered as Hamlet pulled him along. They ran down the tunnel, and a shrill whistle screamed from further down the platform. 

“What was that?!” “STOP RIGHT THERE!” “Is that the kid from the fire?” “STOP!” The whistle blew again. 

Horatio allowed Hamlet and Maggs to drag him down the platform. The world was spinning, and he could barely hear over all the shouting. 

Wind and whistling filled the tunnel, and Hamlet shoved Horatio into the train. Maggs pushed the doors closed with her bare hands, and barred the door with an iron bar that she had found somewhere.

“WHAT WAS THAT?” Hamlet shouted.

“The train blew up, obviously.” Maggs’ harsh voice cut through the air, to hide her guilt as she looked down at Horatio. “Is he okay?”

Hamlet turned to where Horatio was sitting on the floor of the train with his hands over his ears. He leaned up against the seats, and shut his eyes. Hamlet crouched down next to him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s gone.”

“I can’t go back to Denmark,” Horatio muttered. 

“What?” Hamlet asked.

“Everywhere I go, I burn something, or blow something up. I’m too dangerous to go back to Denmark.”

“Horatio, did you start the fire?”

“Yes!” He said with an agonized yelp. 

Hamlet put his hands around Horatio’s. “Listen to me. You did nothing wrong. You did not start that fire. You were framed.”

Horatio looked up at Hamlet with a wet face. “But Laertes said I did! He said I can’t go back! How can you still even look at me?!” 

“Screw Laertes! He’s a liar and a prick! Horatio, it’s okay,” Hamlet knew he couldn’t convince him. So he just had to suffer through it with him. He wrapped his arms gently around Horatio’s shoulders, and allowed him to break down. Hamlet thought about Ben. There was no way Horatio knew about it already. He couldn’t tell him just yet. Once they got back to Denmark, he would. But not now.

Maggs sat on top of the seats beside them, with her legs crossed beneath her. She watched Horatio with wide eyes. She felt so much pity for this boy. He was crushed. And, in that moment, she decided that she needed to destroy whoever did that to him. 

She also felt terrible for what she had to do.

~~~

They made it to the end of the north line without any more interruptions. Maggs said something to the person behind the ticket box. He nodded immediately, and stamped their tickets without another word or payment. They stopped to look at a freestanding map of the bullet train’s route, which stood next to the entrance.

Horatio went to the restroom before they got on, leaving Hamlet and Maggs alone by the map.

Hamlet fidgeted as Maggs scanned him with her stare. 

“So, uh, where are you from?” He said, trying to make conversation.

“Everywhere,” she answered absentmindedly, turning back to look at the map. 

“Oh,” Hamlet looked down. A thought popped into his mind, and he frowned. “Why are you helping us? What’s in it for you?”

Maggs glanced at him, and Hamlet barely had time to react to the switchblade that shot out of her hand. She put her elbow over his chest, shoved him against the map, and put the knife over his throat. 

“I need to get into the castle,” she growled, “And if the prince gets in my way, well,” Maggie chuckled softly, “I guess I’ll have to do what I have to do. So here’s your part. You need to keep your goddamn mouth shut before I have to go to drastic measures. If you or your friend try to resist or run, you won’t make it out alive.”

“If you’re so set on killing me,” Hamlet said with a sadistic look, “Then why wait?”

Something in Maggie’s face softened. This boy seemed almost as crazy as herself. That was a rare occurrence. 

“You’re different.” She smiled. “But I’m sure you’d hate for your little friend to get hurt.”

“Don’t fucking touch him,” Hamlet said.

“Okay, then shut your mouth.”

Hamlet glared at her. “Fine.”

She smiled and the knife slid back into her sleeve, just as Horatio walked back over. 

Hamlet took him by the arm and they got onto the train. He tried to keep Horatio away from Maggs as much as possible. They sat down at one of the tables, and Hamlet let Horatio listen to some music on his phone. He quickly fell asleep, and Maggs put in airpods and ignored them. Hamlet sent a quick text on his phone, and stared out the window trying to stay calm. Whatever Maggie wanted, it would surely involve his friends getting hurt. He had to get away from her somehow, and regroup at the castle. Hopefully she would just calm down and leave.

The biggest problem at the moment was that Hamlet knew that his mom and uncle had probably launched a full out search for him, and the moment he got back, Horatio might be put in jail for whatever happened at the cathedral.

Something about this whole thing didn’t make sense. The way Denmark’s news immediately had Horatio’s face all over it. The way Horatio seemed completely mentally destroyed, and Laertes’ involvement in it all. And how Ben and Marc chose that day in particular to go to Notre Dame. It didn’t add up. 

Hamlet pondered the situation as he stared out the glass window of the train. Trees and fields sped past, and every once in a while a small farmhouse would run by. It would be peaceful, if he wasn’t sitting next to his mentally unstable friend and a psychopath three feet away. 

Hamlet leaned his head against the window and shut his eyes. A few moments later, the train slowed and a large bump made Hamlet jolt awake. 

Maggs stood the moment it stopped moving, and kicked Hamlet and Horatio from under the table. Horatio woke up, and he and Hamlet began to follow Maggs down the corridor. 

Hamlet spotted a door with a bar on it that said OPEN IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, with an alarm right over it. Maggs was walking the other way towards the opening further down the passage, and Hamlet took his chance the moment she got a few steps ahead. He grabbed Horatio’s arm, gestured for him to be quiet, and shot over to the door. He threw it open, causing the lights to begin blinking and the alarm to start buzzing, and jumped out. Horatio, although very confused, jumped after him.

“Hamlet, what-?” he started, but Hamlet hushed him again.

“Just come on, and hurry!”

Hamlet ran down the platform that they had landed on. It was filled with people everywhere, running and shouting because of the loud alarm. He didn’t see Maggs, she must have still been in the train, but it would be near impossible to get around all the panicked people. Hamlet turned down the center opening, and dashed around the ticket taking booth, holding on to Horatio the whole time.

They made it to the other side of the station before Maggie caught up with them. Hamlet glanced back just in time to see the bullet leave her gun.

POW!

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 11

Last time, on Brotherhood:

Onwards to Rush Valley!

[Narrator] “Maes Hughes is dead…” I said, onwards to Rush Valley. You don’t need to remind me. And jeez, it’s going to be brutal when the Elrics and Winry hear about this. Episode 11: “Miracle at Rush Valley” Huh, looks like a rather desert-y area, scrub trees and tan stone surrounding the town. I guess I’ve gotten used to the more European environment of Central and East. Quick look at the town itself as Winry begins what I predict will be a long gush over the place, fair number of people walking around the streets, most carrying cases of some sort. The town sign is held up by two pillars designed as mechanical hands, and I’m seeing “Automail” on a lot of signs. So like Winry said, town is big on the mechanical limbs. Makes economic sense, the desert climate would tend more towards mining than agriculture, and people making metal arms and legs would gravitate to the source of their building materials. And yeah, Automail limbs (and an eyepiece, neat!) everywhere. I like this town! Winry jumps around with such enthusiasm that the townsfolk seem a bit unnerved, and the Elric Brothers settle in for a long day of “follow the fangirl”. Ed gripes about being out in the heat to look at automail (hey, you’re the one wearing black in the desert, buddy), asks why they didn’t just drop Winry at the station and continue on to visit Teacher. Pfft, A) like she would have let you, and B) stop denying the ship. Suddenly someone calls out for Ed to stop for a sec, and Oh My Leto Ed’s surrounded, the man grasping his arm and calling out for everyone to look at this unique model. Oh dear, it really is a town of Winry’s isn’t it? And we even get return of the funny sound effects, the crowd [*Swarm*] and [*Jostle*]-ing around him. Well hello there, young dark-skinned girl! You wouldn’t happen to be our focus character for the episode, would you? Oh my gosh Winry, maybe be a little more concerned that the crowd just stripped Ed for a “closer look”. Ed takes a moment to redress as the crowd turns to [*Badger*] Winry and Al, griping about automail engineers. But then he starts patting his pockets… uh oh, we’re down one State Alchemist watch! [Random NPC with Robot Eye]: “It sound like you guys had a run-in with Paninya.” 10-to-1 this is the unique character from before. Townsfolk say she’s a pickpocket that targets tourists, they might know where she is. If they could just have another look at the automail? Hey, back off with that wrench, buddy! One angry Ed later and we’ve been pointed to an automail shop run by Dominic. Team Alchemist are now staggering through the mountains, since Dominic lives way outside of town to find the highest quality ore. More sniping between the two blondes, Al just walks behind them. One plus for being a Soulbound armor; you don’t have to worry about the heat! Pity about all the drawbacks… Oh hey, Al just spotted someone! And yup it’s the girl from the crowd earlier, running across a wooden bridge with the watch in her hand. Ed goes into full-on Toph Mode, Earthbending huge stone pillars to run down as he charges at the pickpocket, who quite reasonably turns and runs from the angry Alchemist. After a little bit, Ed catches up and forms a stone wall to block Paninya, who just says “That was awesome!” and asks how he did that. Well, props for keeping your composure, lady, but maybe give the guy his property back? You were pretty agile but- Huh, ok then. Paninya is quite a bit more agile than I was expecting, she’s dodging Ed’s Stone Hands with ease and practically laughing about all it. Oh, but she just ran into Al, who’s caught her in a TC. Pickpocket, meet Birdcage. Now that she’s caught, Ed demands his wa- hello! Paninya just sliced the cage open with… ooh! Paninya: “Come on, you can’t be too surprised. You’ve seen the town, haven’t you?” Pickpocket’s got robo-legs! Right leg’s got a blade… and Lefty’s got a cannon, a freaking one point five inch cannon. That’s some serious firepower! How does a pickpocket have this level of armament? With the Elrics recovering from the blast, Paninya’s off again… only to get grabbed by Winry. Who’s not letting her go until she gets to see the automail. Yep, pickpocket’s not going anywhere. Then a couple looks out of a house they’ve ended up at, recognize Paninya and ask if she’s got some friends over. Going out on a limb here and guessing Paninya’s adopted by these folks. Inside, Winry is geeking out over Paninya’s legs to the point of creepiness, no way Ed’s getting anything about his stolen watch until this blows over. Winry compliments Dominic on the craftsmanship… but he didn’t make them? Ah, so Glasses-Guy is not-Dominic (apprentice? son?), Dominic is a gravely-voiced old man. Who might be the one related to Paninya? Going out on a limb here. Now Dominic’s giving Ed an examination? When did we get to this? Anyways Dominic’s critiquing the work, saying it’s a bit heavy. And might have stunted Ed’s growth? Cue mental image of freakishly-tall Ed. While he’s lost in flights of fancy, Winry begs Dominic to become his apprentice. Uh, don’t you have a business to run with your grandmother? Moot point anyway, Dominic shuts her down instantly. Not the most personable of people, is he?

And confirmation that Glasses-Boy (still don’t have a name yet) is Dominic Jr. Still reeling from being called little by the old man, Ed is getting dragged down a hallway by Al when they run across Mrs. Dominic Jr., who is quite pregnant. This is followed by a sweet scene where she lets the Elrics touch her tummy, Ed feeling the baby’s heartbeat. A sweet scene… but Mrs. DJ winces? Is she ok? Winry and Paninya are chatting now, the pickpocket rubbing her rain-aggravated stumps. Storytime? I’ve noted that she’s wearing camo, betting there’s military in her background. Or not, it was a train accident that took both her parents and her legs. Couldn’t walk, nowhere to go… and then she met Mr. Dominic. *Flashback of homeless Young Paninya in an alley* *slightly Younger Dominic walks by, sees her* [Younger Dominic]: “You look like the most miserable, pathetic girl in the entire world. Nothing annoys me more than mopers like you.” And then he just picks her up and carries her home. Gotta admit, I don’t think this particular adoption story is going to win any charity awards. [Paninya]: “So, without anyone ever asking my opinion, I was outfitted with automail legs.” What seriously? Dominic, ease off with the tough love there buddy. But after surgery and rehabilitation, Paninya was up and walking again. So now she’s sworn to pay him back, regardless of the fact that he refuses any money. Maybe it’s because you keep stealing it? Winry has the same complaint that I did, chiding her for using Dominic’s gift to steal rather than work honestly. Paninya… agrees rather suspiciously quickly. I don’t wanna come across as paranoid, but you might check your pockets there Winry. Oh right, you’re a girl, so your clothes don’t have any pockets. My bad. But if Paninya’s really being honest, she’s going to start by giving Ed his watch back. A quick check to make sure it’s alright- but it’s not opening? Winry says it’s sealed by Alchemy, and she can guess why: Something’s inside that he’s embarrassed to let anyone see! Time to break out the tools! Some lockpicking later, and it’s open. But all that’s inside is a scratched note: “Don’t forget. October 3rd ‘11” Ah. Based on how quiet Winry just got I’m guessing it’s the date of either their Mom’s death, or the failed Human Transmutation. Winry gives it back to Paninya to return, and declares that she’s going to ask Dominic again to be his apprentice. Winry’s knocking on a door when Ed rushes up in a panic, babbling. Three guesses what’s got him so riled up, and the first two don’t count. [Panicked!Ed]: “The baby’s coming! The baby’s coming!” Thunder and Lightning as Dominic dons a raincoat, they can’t get her to town in the weather so he’s going to fetch the doctor. Mrs. DJ’s in bed with [Ridel] (finally got his name!) beside her, asking her to hold on. [Satera] (finally got her name too!) deadpans that there’s no holding on in this case. Cue Mass Bystander Panic as the baby decides it’s tired of waiting, it’s on the way now.

All the guys are predictably useless in their panic until Winry steps up saying that they’ll do it. Ed darling, stop being clueless, what do you think Winry is talking about other than delivering the baby? Of course no-one’s got any experience or knowledge about this, so they’ll all have to work together. Elrics are off to get boiling water, Paninya to get towels, and Ridel to get disinfectant. Ridel asks the Elrics if Winry can do this, he says that she came from a family of doctors and grew up reading medical textbooks. Ok, so they’ve got some knowledge, like Ridel says it’s not quite a medical degree but there’s some groundwork here. In the room Winry’s going over the list. And unfortunately there’s something else, but she can’t remember it. Ed and Al are left standing outside the room after Paninya’s called in to help, Ed bemoans that when it really counts he can’t do anything. Then they’re sent [*Cowering*] behind some chairs as Satera starts yelling. Don’t suppose there are any painkillers in this setting? Now Ed remarks that sure, the Brothers aren’t big believers in God, but maybe he could help them this once? Sorry boys, I don’t think Leto’s feeling too charitable to you right now. Suddenly the door bursts open, Paninya comes out mumbling about the blood. Oh. Oh no. Please don’t. Ed rushes in to see Winry looking shocked. She points To the small squalling infant in Satera’s arms oh my LETO show don’t scare me like that! Ed gushes about how awesome this all is, how they’re witnessing something that Alchemists have failed to accomplish for centuries (Al swaying around in the background as the baby is cleaned is adorable). Winry chides him for lumping the miracle of birth in with alchemy, Ed defends that it’s just how he thinks as an Alchemist. [Ed]: “Besides, whatever you say, it really is awesome. People are awesome.” Aw, that’s sweet. Now, if Ed could help Winry up? She kinda can’t stand right now. A beautiful shipping moment as Ed is giving Winry a piggyback ride to the chairs in the hallway, them snarking at each other all the while. Daw. But then Winry says she saw it. Uh oh. Winry just admitted to seeing the inside of the watch, Ed just dropped her. Quietly asks that she forced it open. Well yeah, I can understand Ed being angry about this. And Winry knows she did wrong, apologizes. Ed sighs and helps her back up, they take their seats. [Ed]: “I haven’t shown that to anybody. Not even Al.” He says it’s private, an admonition to himself. He carries it as a reminder. Really, Ed? You have to ask why Winry is crying right now? It’s because she cares about you, dolt. Flashback to the Elrics burning down their house, so there’s no turning back (y’know, besides living with the Rockbell’s. Also, in the burning house there was a family picture with a noticeable absence. Where the heck are you, Papa Elric?) And even back then Winry cried, and Clueless Ed had to ask why she was doing that. [Winry]: “You two won’t cry. Someone else should do it for you, don’t you think?” [Ed]: “Don’t be an idiot.” Winry reaffirms that she’s not leaving. How can she, when her skills aren’t up to her satisfaction? She’ll keep learning, to make Ed the best automail she can so he’s as strong as he can be. Once more, she’ll ask Dominic to be his apprentice. Oh hey Paninya! By the way… WATCH! NOW! Dominic’s back! And wow, [Mushy] is the only way to describe how his personality’s gone 180 and he’s fawning over his new grandkid. Up until he scowls at the Elrics for commenting on that. Hey. Hey Winry. You’ve got some major brownie points with the old man right now. Go ahead and ask to be his apprentice. But apparently “one has nothing to do with the other”. He flat-out won’t take an apprentice. Buuuuuut he will recommend her to an accomplished engineer further down the mountain (methinks a recommendation from the guy NPCs in a town devoted to automail called skilled will go a long way). And he’s not going to stop Winry from coming once in a while, to “see my grandchild”. I think Paninya has picked up on Dominic’s oh-so-subtle approval. Now back at the train station, Ed and Al are hurrying to catch it and run by a couple of wanted posters (hi Scar!). Don’t want to miss the only train for three days! Winry, call your Granny! And learn stuff to make even cooler automail next time Ed sees you! And with that, they’re gone. But Winry knows that they’ll be back.

[enricodandolo]

Venusberg (Mass Effect: Andromeda; Rydercest)

Zu Gottes Preis in hoch erhabne Fernen,

blickt auf zum Himmel, blickt auf zu seinen Sternen!

Anbetung solchen Wundern zollt,

da ihr sie nicht begreifen sollt!

Doch was sich der Berührung beuget,

euch Herz und Sinnen nahe liegt,

was sich, aus gleichem Stoff erzeuget,

in weicher Formung an euch schmiegt, -

dem ziemt Genuss in freud'gem Triebe,

und im Genuss nur kenn' ich Liebe!

 She awoke some time before her alarm, the bright sunlight uncomfortably hot on her face. They hadn’t bothered to draw the curtains and the tinted windows overlooking downtown Armstrong, though filtering out harmful UV radiation, did little to shield them from visible light. She yawned, drew the somewhat clammy blanket up to her ears, rolled over and nestled closer to her partner, nuzzling up to his shoulder. His skin was hot against hers, his smell comfortingly familiar. The sun warmed her bare back through the blanket.

Sara didn’t have long to enjoy the peace and quiet. No sooner had she made herself comfortable than the omni-tool on her nightstand began blasting out Wagner. Freudig begrüßen wir die edle Halle … Groaning, she stirred, rolled off her partner’s body and grasped blindly for the tool. “Alright, alright,” she muttered, blinded by the pure white sunlight falling into her eyes, “’m awake …” She managed to stop the alarm a dozen measures in, turning the music down to a more reasonable volume. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she sat up in bed, the blanket pooling around her waist, stretched.

Once she had regained the use of her faculties and knew where, when and who she was, she glanced over at the man lying by her side. She could not stop a smile from creeping over her face. He was still fast asleep, all the efforts of Landgrave Hermann notwithstanding, curled up and clinging to the blanket. Sara leant closer. His mouth was very slightly open, his breathing slow and steady. For a moment, she watched him, following the curve of his shoulder blade, the tendons of his neck, the shadowed line of his jaw. She knew every inch of his body as well as her own, but never did she fail to be entranced, nor did her heart ever fail to leap when she saw him like this.

Having stolen this moment from him, she leaned down to kiss him. “Wakey, wakey,” she murmured into his brow. “You don’t wanna sleep in today.” He merely turned away with a groan and clung more tightly to the blanket. Sara rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself.” She strapped on her omni-tool, then got out of bed.

The sprawling suite at the Ritz-Astoria overlooking Tranquillity Base had cost them most of their remaining life savings, not that either of them had had a great deal left. Sara was pretty sure they’d drank the remainder last night, toasting a new future with a 1969 Gevrey-Chambertin. Might as well go for the novelty factor.

She walked over to the window, her bare feet sinking into the thick carpet like heavy boots in the lunar regolith, and turned up the filters to dim the light. Tranquillity Base stuck out like a sore thumb, a domed-over patch of grey dust amidst the urban sprawl of downtown Armstrong. They’d seen the site before, mingling among tourists, Alliance recruits and bored schoolchildren as they looked down unto the prosaic remains of humanity’s first bumbling steps through the plexiglass floor that shielded flags and footprints. Yesterday, the place had been full of vaguely familiar faces, everywhere they’d looked had been the Initiative’s logo—excited would-be pioneers bathing in historicism. They’d glanced at each other. “Let’s get out of here.” They hadn’t actually gotten to see what they’d come for, but that was fine.  

Humming along to the music from her ‘tool, Sara moved into the bathroom, all gold and marble shipped from Earth and larger than her old flat on Arcturus. She had neglected to clean up after they had made love yesterday and was in dire need of a shower. She took her time, enjoying the hot steam and the rivulets of scalding water lashing her skin before dripping to the marble floor with that peculiar dancelike languor that seemed to define all movement in lunar gravity. Going by the projections, it sounded like it might be the last hot shower she’d have for quite some time. Just another point she hadn’t considered when agreeing to this foolhardy endeavour. The hotel shampoo smelled of citrus and Thessian spices; for a moment she considered pocketing it before remembering there was no point.

She exited the shower, dried her hair and set about the rest of her morning routine, making liberal use of the hotel toiletries and humming along to the music from her omni-tool all the while. When she exited the bathroom, she found her lover still fast asleep. Sara stilled in the doorway, taking a moment to watch him, smile on her lips. Typical. She couldn’t have pretended to be surprised, even on a day like this. At other times, she might have slipped back into bed to hold him, cherishing the rare opportunity to enjoy more than fleeting intimacy.

Instead, she rolled one of her wet towels up in a ball and hurled it at him.

Scott’s curse was muffled by drowsiness, but he bolted upright and tangled with the towel as though it had attempted to strangle him. Finally he freed himself and glared at her as best he could from half-lidded eyes. “Time to get up, sleepyhead,” she told him, smirking. “Shower’s free.”

“Could’ve just told me …” her brother grumbled and dragged himself out of bed. “No need to assault me.”

“You sleep any longer and we’re likely to miss our ride. Come on, little brother.” She caught him by the wrist as he shuffled past her towards the bathroom and leaned in to kiss him. “Good morning. You smell like shit, go shower.”

“Join me?”

“Mmhm. Next time.”

While Scott was in the bathroom, Sara got dressed in her Initiative uniform, still ill-fitting and smelling of plastics. Say what you liked about the Alliance; her navy blues had felt like a second skin. She doubted she’d ever be as comfortable in the white-and-red gear of the Pathfinder team. Just gotta sit it out, she told herself, the way they’d planned. Once things got settled in Andromeda, they’d have all the time in the world.

The clothes she’d worn yesterday (as well as the racy new lingerie she hadn’t), she folded up and left on the bedroom dresser with a note asking for the hotel staff to donate them to charity. She’d already checked in all the personal effects she’d take with her: a few changes of civilian clothes, a replica of the first Prothean potsherd she’d helped dig up, a broach that had belonged to mum, an OSD with recordings and various memories, and of course her violin in a vacuum-sealed case she’d been ensured would keep the wood from warping for at least six centuries. That last item had kinda put a limit on what else she could bring, honestly, but she wasn’t about to give up on her music.

That had been one of her conditions. She’d had a lot of those. Sara remembered that evening on the Citadel, at a Zakera Ward sushi restaurant, quite well. Neither of them had had any idea as to why they’d been ordered to attend (dad never asked) and they’d both expected the worst. Neither of them had expected a sales pitch. Start a new life in Andromeda. She had seen the rapture in Scott’s eyes as he listened to their dad and it had scared her.

They’d met up on the Presidium the next day, just her and Scott. When she saw him, she knew he’d been sold, and she hated—well, whom exactly? Him, never. Herself, their dad, the entire fucking universe? But she’d ground her teeth and argued and, in the end, relented. He’d looked as miserable as she’d felt.

By the time Scott left the bathroom, she was lounging on the couch, tapping her foot along to the music. She watched (well, leered) him scrounge up his clothes. “You want to have breakfast?” she tried, half-heartedly. “We could order room service.”

“They said not to eat anything before departure, remember?” Well, there went that idea.

She said nothing else for a while, not until her brother had finished dressing. He actually looked handsome in that cheap-ass plastic uniform, damn him. He regarded her as he zipped up his jacket, worry plain in his face. “You still having doubts about this?”

“I’m rather amazed that you aren’t.”

Scott sighed and shook his head. They’d had this conversation before, too many times. Then, he walked over to her and took her hands. “It’s not too late to back out,” he reminded her, gentle as ever. To him, it would never be too late, not until they actually locked him in his cryo pod.

She smiled at that. “It’s fine. I’ve made my choice.” Truth be told, she’d made it that day on the Presidium. They’d come into this galaxy together, after all. She wasn’t about to let Scott outlive her by six hundred years. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when this whole Initiative turns out to be a massive Ponzi scheme, though. Half the people on those arks are rich idiots with more money than sense, and Garson’s all too eager to have them carve out her own kingdom.”

“You’re such a cynic.” Scott chuckled. “Look, no one is saying this will go off without a hitch. It’ll be hard work, but in the end, it’ll be worth it, trust me. This is our chance. The moment things settle down over there, we’ll be free to go wherever we like. We’ll have a whole new galaxy to explore. None of this old shit holding us back anymore.”

How often had he painted that picture for her? The details differed—now a cabin in the mountains of Habitat 4, then a ship of their own charting the course beyond Heleus, then a beachfront villa on Habitat 7—but always, always, always they were together. The more excited he got, the less she wanted to object. We won’t be alone. Dad will be there. Nothing will change. They would still have to hide, as they had their entire lives.

She couldn’t blame Scott for wanting to try something, anything, to change that.

Anything she might have said stuck in her throat, so she kissed him. “I’ve really enjoyed these past two months,” she told him. “Thank you for that.” They had spent the weeks leading up to the arks’ departure together, longer than they’d ever had to themselves but always paranoid about being found out. As far as dad was concerned, they’d taken each other to some of their favourite places on Earth, one last pilgrimage before they left home forever.

Each had made three choices and agreed to humour the other’s: for Scott, they’d raved in Chennai nightclubs, gotten front-row seats to a Seattle Sorcerers game, and seen the aurora australis from the Transantarctic Mountains. For her, they’d gone hiking in the Hindukush, scouring the Vatican Museums, and she’d gotten her hands on two tickets for Tristan und Isolde at the Bayreuth Festival. For that last one, Scott had even refrained from making any snide comments about the music, though she had found him asleep when she tried to hold his hand in the darkness of the Festspielhaus. O sink hernieder, Nacht der Liebe. Still, they’d walked down the festival hill hand in hand, her usual caution dead in the dark of night, and clung to one another until hateful break of day.

“You’re scared,” Scott said, quietly.

Scared? Perhaps she was, at that. She wasn’t worried that the cryostasis would fail, or that Garson and her stooges would dump them all overboard the moment they’d gone to sleep. She wasn’t even scared of leaving behind everything she’d ever known for an uncertain future. “I want this to be our future,” she told her brother. “Not something dad chose for us. Not something we just fell into because it was the path of least resistance. That whole pathfinder thing, the AI, those fucking implants … every step just makes me feel more like a puppet. This whole Andromeda thing is supposed to be about freedom, a fresh start. How do you see us ever getting our fresh start if we’re dragging all our baggage with us from the Milky Way?”

“I don’t know, frankly. But I know it’ll be better than this. New galaxy, new rules, right?”

“Dad’s going to kill us when he finds out.”

“Fuck dad. Fuck all of them.” The outburst took her aback. She wasn’t used to Scott losing his cool. “This is us. No one else gets a say in this. No one.” He paused. A fire had lit up in his eyes. When he continued, his voice was gentle once more. “I love you, Sara. You want to stay, I’ll stay with you. But I’m sick and tired of hiding all the time. Whether here or in Andromeda, it’s high time for us to come out and face the music. And we’re gonna do it together.”

It was a well-practised speech, one she had heard before many times, in many different forms. Sometimes, it had moved her to tears, other times she had laughed it off. Now, she could not but wonder. She tried to imagine the two of them standing in front of their father—no, no, not that. Much better not to dwell on that. Think rather of what would come after (assuming they survived). That log cabin on Habitat 4, those white beaches on Habitat 7, but always: Scott, Scott, Scott, and her always by his side, the way it should be. Waking up together (ish) every morning, going to sleep together (ish) every night, all the things they could never have in the Milky Way.

Children? Why the hell not? It wasn’t as though they wouldn’t have genetic engineers in Andromeda. In fact, the Initiative had insisted on administering additional gene therapy to the Pathfinder teams along their AI implants, in addition to that they had received in-utero and in the Alliance. Little Scotts and little Saras, born into a new world their parents had forged for them … She glanced at her sweet, brash fool of a twin, heart melting. Well, maybe that would be something to consider, at least when they were a bit older and things in Andromeda had settled down.

“Scott?” she asked, softly, cupping his cheeks in her hands. “Promise me this, okay?”

“Anything,” he responded at once, then added, in pretend hesitation. “This isn’t gonna be like our 14th—”

She had to laugh. “No, you dork. Come on, I’m trying to have a heartfelt moment here, alright?”

Scott smiled up at her, laid a warm, tender hand upon hers. “Alright. Shoot.”

“Promise me we’ll always be together.”

“Always. I promise.”

  It was never supposed to be like this.

She hides her thoughts, her feelings, from the spy inside her brain, the voice that will not shut up. “You promised,” she whispers, voice choked as she holds her twin’s hand. She wants to bed her head on his chest, hear his heartbeat, but there are always people watching. She wants to kiss her prince awake or share in his slumber, wants to feel him once again, but it is always watching. She wants to spend eternity by his bedside, but she cannot shirk her duties. Lives depend on her—their future depends on her. “You promised …”

She lets go off his hand, dries her tears, and shoulders her violin. She can do this for him, at least, she tells herself, as if he’d care. This is for her. Something from Tannhäuser, perhaps. Yes, that’ll do nicely.

   Dir, Göttin der Liebe, soll mein Lied ertönen, gesungen laut sei jetzt dein Preis von mir! Dein süßer Reiz ist Quelle alles Schönen, und jedes holde Wunder stammt von dir! Wer dich mit Glut in seine Arme geschlossen, was Liebe ist, kennt der, nur der allein! Armsel'ge, die ihr Liebe nie genossen, zieht hin! Zieht in den Berg der Venus ein!

[the-second-circle-ffxiv]

Proposition

Asagi looked around in a mess of a room she had just casually walked into through an unlocked door. Somewhere deep down she wished that she, too, could still be that carefree. Silke's small apartment was so full of miscellaneous things, that at the first glance it seemed to be chaotic. However, after watching more closely, despite of the amount of things everything was in surprisingly good order. Opposite the door, on the other side of the living room was obviously her personal fortress: a huge, inviting and soft-looking canopy bed accompanied by a gigantic bookshelf that almost touched the roof. It had been crammed full of books, and even then she hadn't managed to fit them all in there. About half of the tomes were either laying on the floor or had been piled next to the shelf. On the right side of the living room the eye-catcher element was definitely a cluster of a small fireplace and an odd, winged sofa alongside a couple of round armchairs. Asagi was just thinking how her usually somewhat unorganized and clumsy sister had matured so much since starting her mage studies and finally reached some level of elegance. Then her gaze moved into the darkest, farthest corner of the room, where an old cupboard slouched both doors open like a drunkard passed out while still sitting in a chair. Bundles of clothes, cleaning tools and who knows what else were hanging from the drawers crammed so full of stuff they couldn't fully close. Shaking her head, Asagi turned to look on the other, tidier side of the room, where Silke had displayed her greatest treasures. A couple of far eastern drawers were almost bending under the weight of all plush toys and figurines on them. Silke liked to travel, and she had a habit of bringing something cute back home from every place she had visited.

Asagi couldn't help but smile when she noticed a happy looking emerald Carbuncle sitting on a round, red pillow and holding a gold coin almost as big as itself. It was very old, but it still looked almost like new. Back in the days when Asagi and Silke had been kids and lived in Kugane, they had gone to fair with their parents and brother. Some old merchant had noticed Silke's greedy stare and they had told the girl such artifacts brought luck. Asagi wasn't sure did she believe in such or not, but Silke couldn't have cared less. She had thought the creature was pretty colored and cute and that was all that mattered. She decided right then and there she wouldn't leave the fair without it.

However, the money their parents had given for the fair had not been enough for the item. Silke had asked for more without success. A heated debate had followed, which Silke had lost. Gracefully she had dropped on the ground and started screaming like a banshee, attracting too much unwanted attention. Their parents had finally bought the damn thing just to avoid possible Sekiseigumi questions about domestic violence. When Asagi's gaze finally ended up into the last corner of the room, a frustrated exclamation wasn't far. It was Silke's desk. The dummy had piled paperwork on it - judging from the amount since the day she had moved into the apartment - and a candelabrum peeked out from the messy mass. It was purely absurd to keep it in such place, and even more with a shiba inu in the house. Damn creature, Asagi thought in passing, while lifting the candelabrum away from the desk and relocating it on one of the drawers. The little red beast wasn't annoying in the same way most of dogs were, who barked at everything, smelled like animals, shed their fur everywhere and were messy in general. No, Laurence von Salem - though Silke and Lareine called him also Lucy for some reason, had way too much fun with it and Asagi had not the slightest clue why - was like people, except he looked like a dog. Just like a few minutes ago, when Asagi had arrived. Normal dogs would've barked their lungs out, dashed to greet her and dropped all nearby movables with their swooshing tail. But no, Laurence had just lazily gotten up from his spot in the living room next to Silke's bed, slowly padded towards the little hallway like he'd own the place and stared at Asagi for a moment while looking like he had just smelled something bad. Then he had apparently decided Asagi wasn't a threat, since he had silently snorted and continued his way into the kitchen, after which Asagi had heard rippling of water before it had become silent again. He hadn't come back though. It was probably cooler in the kitchen. Bah, enough of recollection, Asagi thought to herself. She took a couple of steps next to the couch where Silke was laying in a half sitting position, facing towards the fireplace and neck bent in such an unnatural way it almost hurt just to look at.

"Hey, sis", Asagi said, poking her sister carefully. "Can I sit down for a while, or are you busy?" Silke flinched and turned to look at Asagi, dazed. Her long, black hair was unkempt and glasses tilted. She was wearing one of her pompous robes, as usual. It was rare to see her in a more casual outfit. The girl just loved robes. "Oh, hi!" Silke exclaimed and glanced around like not being completely sure about her surroundings. "Yeah, by all means", she giggled awkwardly and then added: "I think I just fell asleep." "You should seriously sleep for a change... have you pulled an all-nighter with those books of yours again?" Asagi asked accusingly and took a seat next to Silke, reaching out towards her and gently fixed her glasses. Silke rolled her eyes with dark circles around them. "Not my fault they make books so interesting. And I gotta say I hate schedules. There ain't enough hours in a day for me to do stuff, I swear." She became more serious all of a sudden. "But oh, you got me interested. This must be something very important for you to leave your work and drop by." Her sleepy gaze focused a bit. "Maybe one day you'll find a way to add more hours into your day... as an archmage and all that", Asagi noted smiling, but let her expression quickly fade away. "And well... it's about my work. I do not know who to talk to, but you are all I have so... Silke, what would you say if I told you I have hit a mid-life crisis?" There was a short silence. Silke's eyes widened for a moment while she was staring at Asagi in disbelief. Then she burst out laughing, but soon after noticing Asagi's darkening expression she forced herself to stop and coughed awkwardly. "Eh... what? Why? Wait... Does this have something to do with that new hair color of yours?" It was Asagi's turn to roll her eyes. "Oh, go on and laugh, you silly little gremlin", she snapped playfully. "I mean... I have been thinking. What do I have? The bar... yes. But it's all there is. And honestly: the recent accident with the drunkard made me wonder. Is it all even worth it? Day after day I'm stuck inside those red walls. Seeing the same old faces. Hearing the same dry stories time after time. I have started to see myself as I will be when I grow old: a bitter woman, wiping puke off the table."

Silke listened closely while nodding rapidly. "Hm, well... I don't think other occupations are any more exciting", she pondered, rolling her hair around her finger. "Less risky they may be, but... My professors for example. Their job looks exciting from a student’s point of view, but I've thought of what it's like to them. Same old routine day by day, teaching students at days and fixing paperwork at evenings and nights. I think all regular occupations are like that in the end, after the first charm has worn off. You just gotta pick a career of which routines you like the most." Asagi couldn't do anything but to stare at her for a moment. Silke was usually so cheerful, but this was probably the most depressing thing she had ever said. And it made the whole thing even more depressing, that Asagi thought she was right. "At least you have choices", Asagi notified. "You don't have to become a professor. You can use your knowledge in so many ways. Maybe you can become a seer in a royal court. A mercenary... Maybe a researcher of old. Only the sky is the limit with your talent, Silke. Don't even think about locking yourself into some dusty, old office!" While Silke was frowning, Asagi let out a long sigh. "For me, though... I don't want to say this... but I don't know what to do. Time to time I find myself just thinking about burning the whole shit down." Silke tilted her head, frowning even more. She lifted her feet alongside a pair of moogle slippers from the floor and turned around so that she was facing Asagi completely, sitting cross-legged. "Huh? How are those royal seers or mercenaries any different then?" she started to grill. "They have their own routines as well." She rolled her eyes once again. "Personally I don't have a clue what you're talking about. I've always thought your occupation is interesting. It includes more risks than ordinary duties, but that's about the only thing I don't like about it."

Asagi leaned her back onto the sofa's comfy curve while crossing her legs. "Well, at least days would be different. But I guess you are right", she admitted.

If Silke of all people thought her occupation interesting, it couldn't be too bad after all. All those poor souls depended on her. Sure, most of them were drunkards, but despite of some bad choices of life, deep down they were just ordinary folk. One usually had a very good reason to grab a bottle. Asagi couldn't deny her bar was a peerless way to gather information, both for herself and her customers. She also had her doubts of being on the game for so long it might actually be close to impossible to step out from the shadows without dragging them along with her. "And it's bringing food to the table", Asagi added after a short while. "I'm proud of what I've achieved. But you see... I never see you for example. I miss the old days in Kugane. We used to do a lot together. Now it's just... Bah, look at me being all sentimental! I think I'm finally starting to drop the ball for good." "Now that you mention it, I'd like to see you more often, too", Silke noted, smiling. "But I don't think there's another bar in Foundation area like yours. And no, I'm totally not including Forgotten Knight! Imagine all those poor folk who'd have no longer a place to go and have fun in if you quit. But honestly, if you're feeling bored, what is stopping you from changing careers? What would you rather like to do?" "That... is a good question", Asagi pondered. "Anything connected to magic is off limits. My magic is way too unstable as it is. My blade? Years have made me rusty, and I don't want to risk my life again." "Of course your skills will get rusty if you don't do anything with them for a long time", Silke notified. "If you want to live by the sword again, all you need to is to pick it up and start using it. Geez..." Asagi had been thinking about it herself as well, but she had ended up into a conclusion it was too big of a risk and could lead into another mistake way too easily. And perhaps this time she would lose more than just an eye. "Nah", she said and couldn't help but smile. "I want to make sure I stay alive and see you becoming an archmage. And maybe get married. Then I could be the uptight aunt Asagi." "You?" Silke exclaimed, eyes round with horror. "Married?" She burst out laughing uncontrollably. "As if!"

Asagi blinked, her mouth hanging ajar. Before she was able to regain her voice, Silke suddenly stopped laughing and slowly turned to look at her. "Wait... Does this mean you actually have someone you like?!" "No! What?! No!" Asagi cried out. "I was talking about you anyway!" "Oh." "But speaking of which: why do you find me getting married so impossible of an idea?! You are hurting my soul, sister..." Asagi turned away from her dramatically. Silke puckered up her lips, and the tips of her ears started to droop a bit. "Meh... And here I was getting all excited for you." Then she sighed deeply and looked away. "You should know by now. I'm not interested in relationships, even less getting married. It's too much work and takes too much time. I've had my share of dating partners who've been jealous of my studies or my hobbies, or even magic itself! Relationships feel like someone tying a leash around my neck and tugging me all the time, telling me to stop doing what I love the most and give them attention instead. There's no way I could live like that. Ugh...", she rubbed her temples, eyes squeezed shut. "My brain starts to hurt just by thinking about it. Let's not talk about me." Asagi wasn't sure what she should've said. She found it extremely hard to believe there would've been anyone in the whole world fitting to be her own lifemate. She had also noticed she shared her sister's problem: she wanted a partner who wouldn't make her feel like she was trapped. If such a miracle were to happen, she would - by all means - welcome it. But still she thought the mere chance was low in astronomical proportions. Thus she wanted Silke at least to experience it, but so far it seemed she was following in Asagi's footsteps. She couldn't keep anyone for long, and wasn't even sure did she truly want it. Silke wiped the melancholic expression from her face like a pinch of dust from a table, and in an instant it was replaced by her more familiar, impish grin. "As far as I've watched other people's relationships from afar, there seems to be awfully lots of people who're seeking... ya know... the princess type, who they can protect or something like that. You couldn't be a princess even if your life depended on it, no offense!" Silke started to laugh again. Asagi smirked playfully and reached out to pinch Silke's ear. She let out a surprised squeal and yanked her ear away. "Here I was just teasing you, but you are shooting me with actual poisoned arrows!" Asagi proclaimed. "How dare you? I can be a delicate princess if I want to! Anyway, I guess you are right. I will just keep doing what I do. And maybe try working a bit less and seeing you more. I'm... kind of worried about you anyway." "Worried about me? Why?" Silke repeated, frowning slightly. "I haven't even blown anything up lately. Is that what worries you? If that's the case, it's easily fixed." If it had been something so simple, Asagi certainly wouldn't have had any need to talk about it. She had been postponing this discussion for as long as she had been able to, but lately she had started to feel she should've said something much earlier. "You are spending quite a lot of time time with that experiment girl", Asagi finally stated. "You hardly see people, and when you do, it's that... what does she call herself? Lareine? Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you have found a friend. But you know what I mean." Silke tilted her head again. "Experiment girl?" she repeated, narrowing her eyes. "Yes, her name is Lareine. She happens to be the only person who has enough spare time in her hands to see me when I'm able to go out. And what's even more important: she doesn't annoy me, like most of other people." Asagi let out a drawn-out sigh, looking at the flames dancing in the fireplace. "She's not right in the head. She is an outcome of what that man did to a poor woman. I may see him in different light these days, but I'm afraid this Lareine is just pulling you closer to Blacksoul. You will end up being an experiment as she is." Asagi hadn't been completely honest when she had told Varg she didn't care about the rumors about him. In a way it was true - while no one she knew was involved with the man in any way. However, it was completely another matter when Silke of all people had started to spend her time in such questionable company. Silke made a gesture with her hand like shooing away a fly. "Pff, oh please. This is probably the most ridiculous thing I've heard all week. You're being mean now." Silke obviously tried to keep a brave face on, but Asagi still noticed that strange hue in her sister's eyes she always had when someone had been poking her into the wrong place. "Lareine has been through so much shite it's no wonder it has left its mark", Silke started to speak formally like she'd been addressing an audience. "She's one of those few people who actually like to have me around and who doesn't think I'm crazy. Would you like me to rather hang out with my classmates? The normal ones? The ones who're bored during classes, who badmouth professors behind their back, who call me a nerd because I actually like to study..." Silke's voice was dripping with bitterness. She inhaled deeply and continued: "I've always wanted to ask them why do they even bother going to school if they don't want to be there. It's not even a grade school anymore, it's completely optional! No one is forcing them!" She shook her head, trying to regain at least some of her composure. "About Grumpy, I mean, the old man Varg-Varg... you're just being paranoid, dear sis. He may appear intimidating, sure, but in reality he's just an ordinary dude and totally under Lareine's slipper. He's not interested in me in any way. He probably wouldn't even want me visiting there." When Silke finally stopped talking, she was slightly out of breath. Asagi remained silent for a while, studying her. She certainly hadn't wanted to make her this upset. She wasn't sure did Silke know about it, but few months back Asagi had marched to Varg's door and demanded him to leave Silke alone. Back then Asagi had been certain he had lied when he had said he had no clue what she was talking about and told her to put her sister on a leash or something, so that she wouldn't stray into his house anymore. "...I'm sorry, sis. You are right", Asagi admitted finally. "You're a grown up woman. Just promise me to keep your eyes open, okay?" "Don't I always?" Silke asked, glancing at Asagi, sounding a bit tired. "Every time someone has tried something shady with me, they've ended up burning themselves..." Her eyes unfocused for a moment. She was either thinking very rapidly or wasn't thinking at all. Then she turned to look at Asagi again. "Perhaps you should join me next time I go visit them?" Asagi blinked. "J... join you? To Blacksoul Manor?" she broke into a giggle. "Oh, Varg would love that for sure!" She wasn’t certain was the suggestion either genius or plain stupid. If Varg didn't want either of them around, it would've been best to stay away. But Silke and Lareine were best friends, and Asagi had only heard good things about the butler, Arsene, who seemed to be delighted when he had guests to serve. It couldn't be good for Lareine either to spend her days alone in that grim, old estate. If she was important to Silke, and she wanted to keep her close, Asagi would certainly help her with it. "I may consider", Asagi agreed finally. "Maybe it's good time for me to pull my head out of a wine barrel. I guess I have been so drowned into my work I have not even noticed you growing up... You are hardly the same girl who got in trouble on the streets of Kugane. And what am I? Your mother? Bah... I'm not the one to tell you what to do." Silke shrugged and grinned. "I don't want you to worry, and I want to show you there actually is nothing to worry. What would be a better way than facing your doubts head on? Besides, grandpa Arsene is the best cook I've ever met. His skill may even rival our dad's. You haven't truly lived until you've tasted his stuff." "I guess that's an offer I can't refuse", Asagi giggled. "If someone is competing with dad in cooking, I have to see it with my own eyes. Tell me when you are going over, and I shall find some time. But talking about work...", Asagi got up from the couch and ruffled Silke's already messed up hair. "My shift is about to start. I will see you later, okay? Thanks for listening to my ramblings." Silke yawned and stretched her limbs, but didn't get up. "Haa, I’m glad I was able to be of help. I think I'm gonna try and sleep some more. Keep your eyes open at work as well, sis!" "I will." While walking towards the hallway, Asagi glanced over her shoulder and saw a petite, pale hand waving at her from behind the back rest. Smiling, she turned back towards the door, but then she noticed an eerie silhouette of a shiba inu staring at her in the kitchen doorway. The setting sun created long, sharp rays that cut the view like in far eastern paintings. Laurence was standing there, his back against the window, making himself seem like a black figure basking in an explosion of bright, orange light. What a drama queen, Asagi thought to herself, frowning. Laurence strutted closer to her and looked at her accusingly like she'd been a cheap sausage. "Lucyyy~!" Silke yelled from the living room. "C'mere, boy!" In an instant the arrogant expression disappeared from the dog's face and suddenly he was beaming as happily as the sun itself. His tightly curled tail started to wag rapidly but clumsily as he dashed into the living room so eagerly he was about to slip. Silently, Asagi opened the door and stepped outside. Before closing it, she could still hear Silke babbling at the dog in a high-pitched tone: "Whooza good boy? You are and you know it, don’t ya? Yes, yes~" --- With @lareine-kira​ :3c

[cececreativewriting]

short play, “Tristan”

TRISTAN

Concept: In a song I like, there is a lyric that states “Maybe if life wasn’t so hard, if he got off to a better start, he’d be somewhere.” This play follows Tristan, aged 5 to 25, and his family. Mainly, we follow Tristan in his slow decline into drug usage, addiction, and overall a depressing life.

Setting: somewhat messy/run-down room with a bed, book self, table and desk

*Tristan is age 5 when the play begins, and he is sitting on his bed while his parents are screaming/arguing; you can hear them but cannot see them*

*Tristan is rocking back and forth in his bed, clearly distraught*

*he pulls out a notebook and begins to draw a dragon. he hangs it up on his wall, and in the corner it says “Tristan, age 4”*

*dad comes in*

Dad: Hey, Tristan

Tristan: Dad! Do you want to play?

Dad: Hey, uh, I would love to… but i need to take care of some errands.

*Tristan looks down, upset*

Dad: But hey! Tristan, do you want to help out?

Tristan: *jumps up, and happily yells* Yes, dad!

Dad: Okay. Remember that lemonade stand you had?

*Tristan nods happily*

Dad: Do you have any left over money from that?

*Tristan walks over to his piggy bank and shakes it*

Tristan: It sounds like i have some!

Dad: Okay, good. I’m gonna need to take it.

Tristan: But dad, it doesn’t come out until you break the piggy bank open.

Dad: Oh, let’s see.

*Tristan hands dad the piggy bank; dad shakes it then smashes it on the ground, ducks down, and picks up the money*

Dad: *under his breathe* $5.67 *starts to leave*

Tristan: How else can I help, Dad?

Dad: uhh, just keep drawing so we can fill our house with beautiful art *leaves*

*Tristan goes back to drawing, the shards of glass from the broken piggy bank remain on the ground; Tristan shuts his book, jumps out of bed, and runs off stage*

*Tristan’s mom comes in and picks up the pieces of broken glass, then makes Tristan’s bed. She is shaking the whole time; she leaves*

*Tristan enters, now age nine. his mother is yelling as he comes on stage in a beanie and worn down black converse.*

Mom: Tristan! Are you fucking serious! You can’t do that at school! You’re gonna get kicked out! Do you want to make your dad angry by getting kicked out!?

Tristan: No, mom

Mom: You know what, just fuck off Tristan. Just fuck off!

*Tristan seems unaffected. he pulls off his beanie and chucks it on his bed, then he grabs his sketchpad, and starts drawing*

Tristan: Fucking stupid grownups. Think they own the world.

*keeps drawing, angrily*

Tristan: I can’t wait to be a grownup and get to be in charge of myself.

*hangs up drawing. it is a drawing of a robot with guns for arms, shooting at a woman. the corner says ‘Tristan age 9’*

*hear a door slam, some quiet arguing, then it increases volume*

Dad: *from offstage* *mumbles* god fucking damnit. *Screams* Tristan! Get your fucking ass down here. NOW!

*You see the fear strike Tristan’s face as he quickly throws his sketchpad under his bed, and runs off stage*

*Tristan’s mom comes in and hangs up some other drawings Tristan has done. One from age 11, and one from age 12. The drawings get increasingly more violent as he ages. she leaves*

*Tristan (now 13) walks in with two friends, Zach and Phillip; Zach has purple hair and gauges, Phillip has bags under his eyes. Tristan has on another beanie*

*They enter, conversing, and all drop their stuff on the ground, then Phillip and Tristan jump on the bed, while Phillip sits in the chair next to the bookshelf*

Tristan: Well, like, what does it feel like?

Zach: It just makes things a little better. You’ll like it Tristan, trust me.

*Tristan looks nervous. Phillip pulls out a blunt, and lights it, then inhales and passes to Zach, who inhales then passes to Tristan; he nervously takes a hit, then exhales a large puff of smoke and violently coughs for a few seconds. His coughing turns into laughing, and then eventually all three of the boys are laughing loudly*

Phillip: Do you feel it?

Tristan: I don’t know. I think so.

Phillip: Well, what do you feel?

*Tristan grabs his sketchpad and begins to draw an alien doing various activities. The aline is looking up and has very large eyes. above him, there is a puff of smoke that turns into flowers*

Tristan: It feels like this.

*shows them drawing then hangs it up. of course, in the corner it says ‘Tristan age 13’*

Zach: Let’s go grub! I know the convenience store on Main and Holly doesn’t have any security cameras.

*They all jump up, grab their stuff, and run off stage*

*Tristan’s mom walks in, sprays febreeze everywhere, and starts to tidy up*

Mom: Oh, Tristan *as she pulls out a bong from under his bed and puts it on his desk, along with a few half full bottles of whiskey*

*Tristan enters, age 16, with Zach, who now has green hair. They are talking about how dumb their english teacher is; Tristan grabs the bong and takes a rip, then hands it to Zach*

Tristan: She’s such a bitch. She’s probably just mad that her husband left her or something. Dumb bitch.

Zach: I know! Why do bitches always have to be so fucking stupid? *takes a rip* Anyways, fuck it. Let’s get high.

*Zach pulls out a little bag and throws it to Tristan, who smiles, takes off his beanie, and grabs his sketch pad. He pours out some white powder and a razor blade, then cuts up a few lines on his sketchpad*

Tristan: You got a dollar?

*Zach pulls out a crunched up dollar from his pocket. Tristan flattens it, rolls it up, and snorts a line. He leans his head back to let the powder fall deeper into his nose. His eyes widen and he lets out a big, happy sigh; he hands the sketch pad to Zach, who with ease, does a line, then hands the sketchpad back to Tristan*

*Tristan begins to draw, then quickly shuts his sketchpad and chucks it under his bed as his dad walks in, drunk and falling over*

Dad: Tristan

*Tristan looks up*

Dad: You got any booze?

Tristan: *looks at remainder of alcohol* I don't know dad, do you have any money?

*Dad grunts, then hands Tristan 5$. Tristan hands an almost finished bottle of whiskey to him*

Tristan: Want a line?

Dad: Fuck yeah

*Tristan racks lines on the back of Zach’s phone. They each snort one*

Dad: Thanks, Tristan.

*Tristan smiles, but is obviously annoyed, and his dad walks out. He gets his sketch pad and begins to draw as Zach takes a bong rip, then evidently falls asleep above the covers*

*Tristan hangs up a drawing of a man with knives for each finger, above clouds that states ‘I AM GOD’ and says ’T 16’ in the corner; He takes another line, then exits*

*Tristan’s mom comes in, with a black eye. She puts a blanket over Zach, and she hangs up a framed diploma on Tristan’s wall. She exits, tired, and Tristan enters. He is now 18, and he still has on a beanie. There are bags under his eyes. He is holding two bags.*

Tristan: Zach! *drops bags* Wake up!

Zach: What!

Tristan: Come on man. Look what i got.

*Tristan pulls out a couple bottles of vodka, tequila, and a lot of beer.*

Zach: Oh shit *grabs bottle and takes a swig* Tristan, man. I don’t wanna get all fucking weird and shit, but I’m proud of you man. You graduated, that’s something I couldn’t do. So, uh, I got you something.

*Zach pulls out two tabs of acid; they each put it on their tongue and the spot light focuses on both of them, while there are lots of darker lights around them. For this scene, the spotlight remains on Zach and Tristan (spotlight is constantly switching between very bright colors) as various people come in and out, drinking, smoking, doing lines, etc. Tristan and Zach just look around in awe (they’re tripping) for the whole scene. They look doped out, and they do not interact with the mass amounts of people that come in and out of his room. eventually, everyone is gone, and the room is a mess. Zach and Tristan look at each other, laugh, then both fall back on the bed, and fall asleep*

*Tristan’s mom walks in and begins to clean*

Mom: What has happened to you, my sweet boy? *kisses Tristan on the cheek as he sleeps*

*Finishes cleaning, then looks at the boys endearingly, sighs, and hangs up a very trippy drawing that says in the corner ’T 18’. She walks out.*

*Tristan and Zach get up and the song “Killing in the Name” by Rage the Machine comes on, while they take bong rips and draw; Tristan is now 21*

Tristan: Naw man. I’m telling you, I am really onto something right now. I’m gonna get my shit together you know. I swear I think this is gonna work out. *phone rings* Hello? Yeah, come to my room. *hangs up*

*a few seconds later a boy who looks about 15 comes in*

Tristan: Whatdya want?

Young boy: Uh, can I get 5 bars?

Tristan: *pulls out pill bottle and pours pills all over his notepad, then hands five to the kid, who pays him* Be careful with those. They can make you dumb.

*Kid nods and leaves*

Tristan: Zach, I really think I’m gonna make it. I’m making so much money off of this.

Zach: Can we at least try it?

Tristan: Come on Zach, we can’t blow it all. We gotta make money.

Zach: How can we sell it if we don’t know how good it is?

Tristan: *sighs* You’re right.

*Girl with long straight hair walks in and sits on Tristan’s lap*

Tristan: Okay, so Lilleth, I think we gotta try the shit and make sure it’s good.

Lilleth: Baby, I was thinking the same thing. *Pulls out baggy, empties little rocks onto sketch pad and crushes them up with a spoon. continues preparing while conversation goes on*

Zach: *Gets up* Tristan, you got a belt?

Tristan: Yeah, the bookshelf *while looking at Lilleth, in love, kissing her cheek*

*Zach sits on bed and hands Lilleth the belt. She tightens it around her arm, sticks a needle in her arm as Tristan holds the belt tightly on her. Once it is all in, she looks at Tristan smiles, and falls back on the pillow, with a huge smile; Tristan and Zach both shoot up*

Zach: Damn ! This shit is amazing…

Lilleth: I fucking know

Tristan: You guys, we’re onto something big here. We can cut this shit and double our profits. Fuck it, even triple it with some dumb kids. We’re gonna make it big, guys. We’re gonna fucking make it big.

*Lilleth and Tristan start kissing, Zach is just doped out staring at the ceiling; Tristan pulls out sketchpad, puts the remaining powder in his gums, then starts drawing. He hands up a picture of a big, 3d heart, and it says ’T 21’ in the corner; Zach leaves, Tristan and Lilleth fall asleep*

*Tristan’s mom comes in, looks at the mess, sighs*

Mom: fucking Tristan *leaves*

*Lilleth wakes up and starts pacing around the room. Eventually, Tristan wakes up too.*

Tristan: Baby, why are you up?

Lilleth: Tristan i cant fucking do this anymore. I can’t fucking do this.

Tristan: Baby, what?

Lilleth: Look at us Tristan! We’re 25 years fucking old. We can't keep fucking living like this, we cant keep fucking around, we cant keep being fucking dumb Tristan we… I’m pregnant Tristan.

Tristan: We can make it work, Lilleth. We can do it! I’d do anything for you baby.

*Lilleth keeps pacing, Tristan gets up and hugs her, she cries.*

Tristan: Come on baby, just take another line, you’ll feel better.

Lilleth: You’re right. You’re right. We can do this. We can raise this baby together. We can raise it to be better than us, we can raise a doctor! A lawyer!

Tristan: Baby, we can do anything together. We’re gonna be okay, I promise.

Lilleth: I love you, Tristan.

Tristan: I love you too baby… We can look into getting an abortion tomorrow.

*Lilleth runs out, Tristan follows.*

*Mom walks in and hangs up two drawings she rips out of his notebook. One is a drawing of Lilleth with a baby bump. The next is a drawing of a broken heart. And lastly, a tombstone, that states that both Lilleth and the baby have died. spot light focuses on each drawing*

THE END

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

SO idk fellas and felladies and those of you who know better, u know i don’t do too hot unless im constantly working on something so i decided i was gonna work off the stuff from the japanese descriptions of the calypso twins about you know... the whole ‘brainwashing’ thing

which is all well and good and then i was thinking about TFTBL while i was doing it and realized mmm you knooow only 2 sets of people have ever really “gone inside” a vault, being the TPS VHs and the TFTBL VHs and we know these two games were made within super close time frames to one another. SO i have a proposition for you, post readers: im here to suggest that Eleseer IS the Vault of TPS

tl;dr: i did actually do some talking about Eleseer being the ACTUAL Vault of Elpis (not the giant eridium crystal we see inside Eleseer) and that Tycho’s ribs was actually a generator/bigass key keeping the entrance opened. because that starry-background thing was also shown in the Vault of the Traveler and it made me go OH! those are the same thing. then eleseer must be inside a vault. because that actually makes sense. also the giant eridium crystal thing was just the Eridians’ version of the Claptastic Voyage turing the VHs into code.

and then i went, well im on the subject of TPS, might as well update my “the twins are going to use the chemical filth of elpis’s Vault to turn their followers into pseudo-Sirens like the Lost Legion Eternal” theory. so i did. and it was cool. there’s some concept art of the twins statues hanging out on a DAHL pumping station. and dahl did have a presence on pandora, but they were mining iridium, which is a metal. on Elpis, they actually did have pumping stations for the methane. which would make a lot more sense

also i go over the rakk-winged dude from the mask of mayhem again, because i mean... rakk wings... angel wings... i still can’t believe nobody else is talking about that. 

oh also possibly the idea that the Commander Lilith DLC ties into the Lost Legion Eternal ties into the ‘creating Sirens’ thing that’s going around right now. As in, all 3 things would be: it’s latent in person -> some outside thing activates it -> now they have their abilities/physical change. bonus points for the Commander Lily dlc tying in this plant monster thing to Eridian ruins (the mine) and the gas to the Vault Key/Map (hector uses the key/map to mass produce the gas). and that possibly tannis wanting to create a plant monster army is just foreshadowing for her creating an artificial siren army in 3 to help us defeat the twins. because i mean... why wouldn’t she. plsdon’tlettannisbeevil

so hear me out for a second

you guys know im 100% unconvinced that eleseer is actually inside Elpis. We see that giant hole in the ground, we see those eridian ruins, we see tycho’s ribs. and that, sure that is believable to me, because Tycho’s ribs is built into the ground. we see parts where the ruins are sticking out of the cryo rocks (methane rocks? hm.)

from the giant pit in the center of tycho’s ribs

the entrance to eleseer from tycho’s ribs:

and we know that Vaults only open with a key, and that key only automatically charges once every 200 years (OR according to the Vault of the Traveler, be anchored somewhere and held open by the key) and/or the key must be charged with eridium through a Siren

and i think you might see where I’m going with this.

do you remember that easter egg? Moon = Key. yeah? yeah.

Remember, every other Vault that is opened in the series requires a Vault Key (artificial or no) to be opened, and it’s not open forever.

im going to pause here and show some pictures of Eleseer for reference. compare them to those pictures of the inside of the TFTBL Vault, if you could :)

i noclipped out of the normal area to get a full shot of the platform

suspended in this weird starry night sky

which should look familiar to you now

because this is the same kind of area the Vault of the Traveler leads to

both these games were in development around the same time and i don’t think this is coincidence in the slightest

in bl1 and bl2 we don’t enter the vaults, instead whatever is inside comes to meet us, so we don’t have a frame of reference for those two vaults.

however

these two vaults look nothing like tycho’s ribs/eleseer.

not even the outside of the Vault of the Traveler looks like Tycho’s Ribs. in fact all three of these Vaults look identical. unlike eleseer and its ‘vault’

u might be saying to urself, but cruddy there IS a vault that looks like this in eleseer.

im getting to that >0>

my theory is that the Eridian buildings/ruins on Elpis (Tycho’s ribs, that big shaft/hole) 

is actually keeping the Vault of the Sentinel open at all times

and that

well that must take a LOT of power and eridium, right?

i think that’s exactly the purpose of tycho’s ribs

now im not a physics major but i would bet this is some sort of power generator

because of these pulses

and would it be so hard to reason that the eridians decided to build it in the cryo rocks/methane reserves of elpis in order to keep it cooler?

in fact i could not shake this feeling so i looked around on the wikia for tycho’s ribs

here’s a list of the areas in tycho’s ribs

compression chamber

exhaust port

maintenance access 42 (which im certain is a HGTTG reference)

observation deck

particle collection chamber

the most important of these areas i would say is 

maintenance access 42, mostly because it’s explicitly stated to be “lined up with a number of energy generators” that then leads to the exhaust port (and from there, eleseer)

sooooo break here because im about to switch gears 180%

----------------------

guess who just realized eleseer might mean ele-seer as in [Extinction Level Event]-seer [where seer is a person who is supposed to be able, through supernatural insight, to see what the future holds]- because everything in tps is named after seeing/watching. we got the Watcher, the Sentinel, even the Vault treasure is being able to see the future. considering most things are named after mythos in borderlands, eleseer is actually not a single word in mythos and uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh “ele” and “seer” both actually mean something.

that is, Eleseer should mean something like ‘prophet of the extinction’

That’s pretty metal

also no good, i guess

am i about to rewrite my entire zarpedon and the lost legion eternal theory? oh i guess i am. wheeeeeeee

oh, and given that this was the story summary of the game before the website was updated all those weeks ago, i think we know exactly what sort of extinction was being prophesied

cool? cool

doesn’t help that tannis hints at this, too

with her ‘mass extinction’ reference in Commander Lilith

“... mass extinction. i figured we had at minimum six or seven years before something like that”

(sorry for the cruddy screenshot i took it my first time through, am not up for playing the entire dlc again for that one line right now)

okay i might pull this back later on in this post, because i think i have a good idea of where to go, but just keep this in the back of ur mind. sorry u gotta deal with my dumb ass jumping between topics so often lol

---------------------------------

anyway, tycho’s ribs being the opening to the real Vault of Elpis. Yeah. I refuse to believe there’s a giant space place in the middle of the moon just hanging out. i’ve discussed in an earlier post about whether or not it was a pocket dimension fueled by Eridium, but i mean what is a Vault but that?

i mean if they need eridium to power the opening to the vault, they’ve certainly got that covered, there’s eridium EVERYWHERE in tycho’s ribs. that plus all those (apparent) power generators... yeah i think they’re covered

also somewhat off topic but have you guys noticed in TPS how rocks surrounding cryo get white/blue lines, rocks surrounding lava get red/orange lines, and rocks surrounding eridian ruins get purple lines? 

probably from all that FUCKIN ERIDIUM

sorry i get off topic so much

anyway

i think that the entirety of Eleseer is the Vault of Elpis. That the entrance is being held open by Tycho’s ribs/Elpis through massive amounts of power/eridium

and it could be possible that using all that eridium to keep the Vault from closing is what’s causing all that ‘chemical sludge’ that mutated the Lost Legion Eternal into the pseudo-Sirens they are.

and remember that the center of eleseer is a giant eridium crystal? and apparently entering it teleports you inside and then you fight the sentinel and see the future?

i think that’s all an illusion. I wouldn’t argue that you go into the Eridium. sure. But i think that the whole thing in there is actually a program/hologram/illusion, or the eridian equivalent of it.

You remember in the claptastic DLC where the Vault Hunters are ‘turned into code’ and injected into Claptrap?

don’t you think that was like... really weird concept despite being canon? it’s possibly that was gearbox’s way (because gearbox did take over for that dlc) of introducing that idea as something that IS possible in canon, as to explain that the Vault of the Sentinel actually isn’t magic

and you might be thinking

what the fuck is cruddy on, this is super far-fetched

but it’s not!

think about it, the skybox is the EXACT SAME as Eleseer. which should already be ur first clue that something isn’t right, considering you can’t see eleseer anywhere around you. Even the map is the same. If you had a side quest open, you can see that the game still thinks you’re in the correct area. even though this area is LEAGUES bigger than the actual crystal. shit, you can even seen the enemies around you still

and what animation plays when you teleport inside the crystal? the same one as the lilith teleportation

all those circuit looking things. the same exact things that are everywhere on eridian tech, including the Vault Key from bl2

but you haven’t GONE anywhere

you’re still where you were before, the map confirms this, even the skybox confirms this and yet there’s no hint of eleseer actually around you

there’s more hang on lemme get the ~pictures~

okay you see that pink 2d fire effect on the ‘walls’?

if you actually walk up to it, you’re greeted with this grid effect locking you on the platform

and this effect on the floor

which you know, screams projection/hologram to me. i mean the fire is legitimately 2d. it’s flat.

also the Vault pieces that form the Vault of the Sentinel (ignoring that we’re already inside the Vault of the Sentinel

you know...)

they’re formed out of the floor. just materialized

which again... is really weird. and i don’t think this is a real Vault for obvious reasons (we’re already inside the Vault of the Sentinel, Eleseer is the Vault, etc etc) but also just look at the Vault in general

it looks weird

again, calling back the other Vaults we’ve seen in this series

they’re all made of stone/rock

the Vault of the Sentinel is... not? if it is, it’s shiny asf obsidian or something

either way, it’s entirely different compared to the other Vaults we’ve seen in the borderlands series, it’s entirely smooth with no markings and, while it’s broken into pieces to hold that aesthetic, it’s not cracked or anything. the broken look was likely intentional

too shiny

not a real Vault

~everything in this area is fake~

even the steps appearing as the sentinel walks down is just... not real to me

like the sentinel is the one controlling this tiny pocket dimension/hologram/program/whatever you get the idea

further proof by him summoning more structures as the fight goes on, from stuff to hop onto to avoid his attacks and barriers to hide behind

hell, he even crawls out of the ground himself at one point, as a bigger version of himself, which is probably the real version of him considering that one actually dies when we kill it, while the tiny one just keeps getting brought back to life and laughs at us

i mean cracks even appear around the floor when the big boy comes in, unlike every other thing that’s summoned from this floor cracks appear only when the Empyrean Sentinel comes in. the real sentinel

like this rock (iunno lol it’s the first screenshot i found) im saying the tiny sentinel and the vault he walks out of are both fake

the big sentinel is the real one come to kill us after getting frustrated we keep destroying his avatar

he’s feeling the gamer rage lol

and you know how when you kill a Vault Monster and the Vault closes, it drags it back inside? referencing the warrior here, because idk wtf the canonical thing is for the Destroyer given when Hyperion does

instead of being dragged into the Vault we see him walk out of, the one that’s right there in front of us, he’s dragged back into the floor

there he go

oh speaking of that Vault

yeah it’s not like any other Vault we’ve seen for another reason

check out the edges on this bad boy

it’s like a bubble in a bubble wand

good shit

meanwhile the Vault of the Sentinel is all crinkly and shit

like hmmmm i don’t THINK so

and when you actually walk into that structure? you’re just teleported to the back of the crystal you walked into

which should be another indication that maybe something isn’t right here

also the Vault Treasure, while inside that weird hologram/pocket dimension/program/seriously whatever you wanna call it, is probably an illusion, too. personally, i can see the entirely of this Vault being like a huge computer, that can compute the future of whoever touches the key and show it to them

We know Vault Monsters are tied into their Vaults, like the Traveler being able to teleport just like the Vault it came out of, the Warrior being the giant living weapon, the Sentinel is probably the guardian of the timeline or whatever. He probably has 3 faces to see the Past, Present, and Future. that’s my theory, anyway. i also noticed the one on the furthest left doesn’t have eyes, while the one furthest to the right doesn’t have a mouth.

which i thought was a cool detail to tie into that theory

anyway

i was going to regale you the tale of my lost legion eternal/Calypso twins theory

but like BETTER this time with MORE evidence

cuz i can and tbh that post is getting harder and harder to find every day

lemme just copy and paste the tl;dr for everyone who doesn’t wanna read the whole thing (i meaaan maybe do because it goes pretty in depth and im gonna summarize a lot of stuff plus im about to add more stuff here so)

“The whole Tl;Dr is that I think the events of BL3 are a chain reaction from Jack opening the Vault in TPS and that Zarpedon saw even further beyond into the future than Jack did with the 2nd Vault on Pandora. Bonus, the Lost Legion Eternal and the Vault on Elpis is the key to giving the Children of the Vault superpowers because the twins kept failing. Yes, that’s a reference to the cover art easter egg.”

So for those of you who don’t know, basically the twins claim to be giving their followers “special powers”

‘Learn special powers!’

and i’ve been thinking a lot about how they’re going to do that, exactly.

because Siren powers, well, there’s only 6 (supposedly), and you can be sure Tyreen isn’t going to give up her own. Now she could just be handing out Siren powers to high-ranking cultists after she steals them (like Liliths), but we see she (or Troy) is using Lilith’s powers on the cultists to teleport them on Promethea. so that can’t be the case.

But we do know about something that’s really, REALLY similar.

We know about the Lost Legion Eternal. and i’ve been thinking about them a lot. 

in the post I go over some ties to Sirens, notably how Magus ones can fling slag balls at you, just like Maya’s melee override capstone, how Tempests have the same elemental wings Sirens get and can sling elements, one is literally called a phasewalker, etc, etc.

but they’re not Sirens. they’re super imperfect and just weird. like the slag balls aren’t perfect orbs like maya’s is, they’re weird and wobbly. the tempests wings aren’t fully formed, they don’t even have, as far as i can tell, actual tattoos

and how did these Eternals get these weird Siren powers exactly?

it’s explained that these ‘rashes’ and shit started appearing after Zarpdeon’s dig team was exposed to the Eridian ruins, specifically some vapors in the air

[callback to the ventilation shaft in tycho’s ribs, anyone?]

during her boss fight, zarpedon even mentions that the Vault is buried underneath a ‘tangle of chemical filth’

so it’s obvious this ‘chemical filth’ is what’s mutating her team and turning them into Eternals.

but they’re not like... always using Siren powers.

they’re not always ascended

they actually have a trigger to ascend. for one, they gotta be low enough health. but two... im pretty sure they gotta have Eridium on them

a lot of the LLE models have Eridium on their belts

like so. which is fair, you know? lots of eridium on elpis apparently because of tycho’s ribs.

but then there’s this

when the eternals ascend

when they come back down, they have eridium growing out of their chests/shoulders

take this tempest for example

im also not 100% sure what their ascending animation even is? it looks almost like they're throwing eridium powder on top of themselves? or stabbing themselves with the crystals? idek

maybe they’re just saluting/grabbing at their bodies as they change

there’s gotta be something there involved with eridium cause they certainly don’t have those crystals growing out of them beforehand

i almost want to say their blood has crystallized/hardened into those crystals cause if you look at Zarpedon’s death scene, she’s bleeding neon purple

just like Guardians do

which is fun

im also curious if this, in any way, ties into the Commander Lilith DLC. Like we know the plant stuff in the mine was more than likely mutated by the eridian ruins and that they’ve already gotten into everyone on earth

and Hector is using the Vault Key/Map to synthesize the gas to ‘activate’ the particles that are already inside of everyone

which ties into the Lost Legion Eternal in that they’re also not always ‘ascended’ (mutated), but they need Eridium (Vault Key gas) to become their second state. given these are both caused by Eridian stuff, I 100% can see them being tied together in some way. probably worded a helluve a lot better than i just did, too.

OH

OHHHHH YOU KNOW I JUST HAD AN IDEA

okay maybe this ties not only into the Lost Legion Eternal, like you know what i was actually getting at, but Sirenhood as a whole. in that everyone is inherently a Siren, but only 6 are ever “active” at a time

and maybe Tannis can figure out a way to force this/induce Sirenhood in people. We know she’s the one who’s been studying both Sirens and the Vault Key (and Eridium) for the longest time. and now she has experience with this sort of deal with Hector and the gas. Maybe that’s why there’s cut content of Tannis going “oh is that why... nevermind” when talking about Angel’s powers appearing at 5 instead of birth.

s o oh man okay so the twins are going to use Elpis (moon is key) to create their army of pseudo-sirens

okay

okay oh man okay

and then tannis is going to reveal that she’s figured out a way to induce sirenhood in people like officially, none of that cheap rip-off shit and there’s gonna be an all out WAR of real Sirens vs fake Sirens

im just saying you know the game devs were all like “mmm we might introduce new skill trees instead of new VHs as dlc” and IM JUST SAYING maybe those new skill trees are already in the game and they’re gonna appear when the VHs get their own Siren powers (Amara gets an upgraded version of her own, like Lilith) and that’s why Guardian ranks are unlocked until the end of the story because then we’ll be able to buff ourselves with 

alright yeah sorry i got a little too excited there

let’s ground ourselves back in reality

we know the twins are planning to somehow give their cultists powers, and we know that the Lost Legion Eternal are basically pseudo-Sirens without the need to steal and gift anyone Siren powers (which you know we don’t even know if Tyreen or Troy CAN gift the powers they steal. I’m still holding onto the theory that Tyreen passes them to Troy with the arm shake and Troy is the output and Ty is the input, but now isn’t the time to discuss this).

it wouldn’t be viable to give all their followers Siren powers ANYWAY, unless they find a way to multiply them (possibly a part of Tyreen’s/Troy’s powers? like being the main holder, but being able to gift it to others so long as you keep yours- could explain the ‘knighting’ looking thing Troy does with a cultist)

UGH I KEEP GETTING OFF TOPIC OKAY I HAVE STUFF I WANNA SAY

THEY’RE GIVING THE CULTISTS POWERS

YES

OKAY

we know in the mask of mayhem, Siren powers are indicated by Angel Wings.

What if the fake Sirens are indicated by something that’s not Angel wings. something that’s still wings- still holding Siren powers- but maybe indicative of a corrupted angel wing

like uhhhhhhhh

rakk wings?

yeah

yeah let’s go with that

you know like how bat wings are supposed to be demon wings and bird wings are angel wings okay yeah we get the tie-in

im just saying! directly below this dude (who is the cover art psycho, just you know, putting that out there, probably some sort of tie in to the gold weapons (high standing in the cult) and the robes and stuff. you knoooow you only get powers when you’re loyal enough or whatever, you know)

we have lilith with her angel wings, indicating her Siren-ness. which i don’t think is a coincidence

i got more though, because of the museum of mayhem

we know on pandora, there are hyperion pumping stations for slag and eridium, right? so if the twins were controlling some pumping stations on pandora, it’s a given that they’d be, you know, hyperion-brand

so in this concept art we see something like a pumping station, with a waterfall of purple goop, which you know, i immediately associate with those darn eridians annnnd

this isn’t Hyperion.

this is DAHL baby

and where did dahl have such a big presence and huge pumping stations all over the surface? (with bandits already everywhere, no less?)

elpis!! 

originally dahl was there mining and pumping methane all across the planet, and, while they also had a mining presence on pandora before bl1, there weren’t any pumping stations there. they were mining for iridium (not to be confused with eridium), which really wouldn’t require pumps of any kind cause its a metal

so why is this pumping station considered holy holy holy? because it’s the source of their fake Siren powers

we even see, on the mask of mayhem, giant pumps with scaffolding and ladders all around them, they even have valves and shit

which, you know, are spewing vapor which could also tie into the gas that transformed the LLE

orrrr the purple stuff is just slag runoff from the eridium refinement process and cultists are fucking weird cause it could also just be a way for the twins to charge all the vault keys they’re collecting but damn it please let me have this lmao

i mean, why wouldn’t the twins go to elpis in search for the Vault that lets you see the future? that seems like a HUGE deal to me. especially for the two who seem to have this huge, grand plan in place. “you’re my most loyal follower vault thief, you just don’t know it yet” yeah i sure don’t let’s go to elpis and see what you guys have in store for us vault hunters!

man how fucked up would it be if us vault hunters had been brainwashed from the start to think the cult was the crimson raiders and the crimson raiders were the cult

now that’d be one hell of a twist

could explain why sanctuary-iii goes from orange/gray to blue/yellow with red graffiti on it

but uhhhhhhhh that’s a theory for another time because it is 2:07 in the am and im tired as FUCK

[fandom-scribe]

Dick and Dami Week: Day 3 - Fear Gas/Injury

Title: The Hell of My Making

Word Count: 1,955

Author’s Note: The fics for day 1 and 2 are still in the works and will be posted later, I promise! Sorry if this is a bit confusing.

—

There was blood everywhere. It stained the walls and coated the floor like a sticky rug, filling the air with the tinny smell of iron. It clung to his hair, his clothes, his skin, his - his everything! The blood was like a second skin, wrapping around him until they were one and he was drowning in it.

And yet, through the blood, Damian was smiling.

The blood was his, Damian knew. It hadn’t come from his veins but it belonged to him all the same, like how a trophy belonged to the winner instead of the one who forged it. He had earned his current predicament with nothing but fear gas in his lungs and a sword in his hands. Damian looked around. The bodies were his too, he guessed. His punishment for getting gassed, his reward for overcoming the demons. All his.

“Mother would be so proud,” Damian hummed, simply to break the stifling silence. His smile softened into a grin, his head tilting to the side as his ears perked. Another sound followed his declaration, a pained groaned emitting from the sea of bodies. Damian’s muscles tensed, his hands gripping the sword between them so hard they shook. He had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten there or where all the slain humans had come from, but apparently he wasn’t alone. Damian just wanted to be alone.

Richard seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He stood there like a ghost, skin pale and muscles rigid. If it wasn’t for the heaving of his chest and the pained grunts escaping his lips, Damian would’ve thought him to be another hallucination. But Damian’s hallucinations never breathed and never made a sound unless they were screaming. They never showed pain, only anger and sometimes fear, and Richard showed neither of those things so he must be real. Which meant Damian was safe.

For now.

Maybe.

Damian tightened his grip on the sword.

Time passed by like molasses. It could’ve been minutes or hours before Richard made his move, Damian couldn’t tell. He was too busy trying to figure out the look in Richard’s eyes. He was certain it wasn’t fear or anger or anything dangerous, but it wasn’t anything good either. It was a swirl of things, too many to pull apart, until suddenly Richard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again the look was gone, replaced by a terrifyingly blank look that had Damian practically quaking in his blood-drenched boots. Richard took a step forward.

“Stay back!” Damian ordered, the strength in his voice surprising himself. Richard froze once more, this time his hands coming up in a surrendered gesture. It was only when he moved his arms did Damian notice the large blood stain covering Richard’s torso. Damian’s chest tightened sharply. The stain was not spreading so maybe there was a chance that it wasn’t Richard’s blood. Maybe it was just a stain picked up from moving throughout the field of corpses, maybe Damian hadn’t injured him.

Damian felt like throwing up. He wasn’t fooling anyone. He had harmed Richard and now his brother would get his revenge. But there was nothing to fear, right? Because Damian was a master of the sword, could take him down with some extra determination. Richard would join his collection of bodies, his blood becoming Damian’s possession just like the others.

He could do this.

“Damian, put the sword down,” Richard said gently, still holding his hands up. His body shook ever so slightly from what Damian could only assume was pain and exertion.

“No. Leave.”

“I’m not leaving without you, Dami. Just drop the sword and come with me. We can fix this.”

“There’s nothing to fix! Leave!”

Until now, the world around Damian had felt soft, like all his senses had been stuffed with cotton and he was floating on a different plane of existence. But Richard’s presence filled the air with an annoying buzz that cut straight through his cotton world like a chainsaw. He wanted Richard gone, away from him where he would be safe. Damian was to remain here with his bodies and blood and muted senses, ruling over his kingdom in a way that would make his mother and grandfather proud.

(And who knew, maybe if he ruled well enough, one day he could leave behind this kingdom and join them once more. Maybe.)

The buzzing grew stronger as Richard shuffled closer, ignoring Damian’s orders to get back and the wavering sword aimed at his throat. Damian took a step back but it was useless: for every step back, Richard took two forward, until Damian’s back hit the wall.

“Damian please,” Richard whispered, and from this distance Damian could hear every pain-filled hitch of breath. For an aching second, the cotton-like feel of the world melted away, bringing everything to a sharp, overwhelming focus, and Damian wanted nothing more than to leave this place with Richard, if only to get the man to a hospital. But then he was gone again, back to his separated plane of existence, where only one fact was certain.

“I belong here.”

It sounded so final, like a life-long prison sentence, and Damian was suddenly all too aware that that’s exactly what it was. It was kind of funny in a way, how Damian’s final destination - the only place where he could easily fit in - was so much worse than the place he had tried to escape. Mother and Grandfather were definitely a more preferable option.

“No, Dami, you belong at home in the manor. Please, let me take you home.” By now Richard had one hand wrapped around his middle, his posture hunched, but he kept shuffling closer, his free hand reaching out.

“F-father would never let me back there.” Damian’s voice was a pitiful whine. He had no idea why he was even entertaining Richard, why he wasn’t listening to the sound of his mother’s voice in his head, telling him to run his sword right through Richard’s already wounded torso and finish the job.

“Bruce will understand, I promise. Maybe not right this second by he will because none of this is your fault. Do you understand that, Damian? It’s not your fault.”

“It is! I killed so many people. I-” The cotton feeling was fading fast and Damian was smiling again, but this smile was tainted with bitterness. He let out a self-loathing chuckle. “Drake was right about me.”

Richard’s head swung like a pendulum, back and forth and forth and back, as if he was trying to dislodge something from his ear. “No, no, no, you’re wrong!” he spat. “Tim was wrong! It was an accident, Damian, you gotta understand that. Bruce will have to understand that. We’ve all been victims to fear gas, all have done regrettable things under its influence. Just come home and let me fix this!”

Let me fix this.

The words slammed into Damian like a wrecking ball. There was no fixing this, no undoing the mass carnage Damian had caused, and yet Richard was still offering to try. He was always offering to try. No matter what Damian did Richard never seemed to understand that he was a lost cause. Richard was always willing to fight for Damian, even if it meant going toe-to-toe with Father. Damian was suddenly burning with the need to make Richard understand. He needed him to know exactly what had happened, exactly what would keep happening, and then - only then - would Richard finally see the picture and leave him be.

Richard’s hand darted out, slapping the sword out of Damian’s hand. The clatter of the sword was barely audible in Damian’s head as he darted forward, throwing himself into Richard’s open arms for what was most certainly the last time. Richard let out a pained groan, the man become breathless as Damian wrapped his arm tightly around his injured middle. Damian couldn’t make himself care. He couldn’t care about Richard’s pain or the blood seeping through Nightwing’s uniform and onto his face. All he could care about was the explanation on the tip of his tongue, the one that would finally open Richard’s eyes.

“They were trying to kidnap me,” Damian started. His cheeks were wet and his voice wavered but he pushed through, letting himself sink back into his cotton world. It wrapped around him like a comfort blankie, shielding him from the monsters hiding just out of sight.

“Who tried to-” Damian squeezed Richard tighter, purposely putting pressure on his wound to shut him up. Damian couldn’t be interrupted. “The shadows, they were alive. They were going to take me back to Infinity Island, back to Mother and Grandfather so Grandfather could complete his ritual and possess my body. I- I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to be Grandfather’s new vessel. So I took my sword and I defended myself against them. Except they weren’t real and I killed the people I sworn to protect. In my desperation to escape my grandfather I wound up here and now I can never leave, Richard. I… I’d rather be with Grandfather than here…”

“You can leave, Damian. It was the fear gas-”

“You still don’t get it! This isn’t the first time I’ve killed, Richard! And it won’t be the last! I belong here because everyone else is already dead. I can’t hurt anyone else here except for you so you must leave!” The buzzing was back, causing Damian to desperately shake his head an attempt to dispel it. It was disrupting his cotton world. Damian liked his cotton world.

For a long time, Richard remained silent and Damian feared that it was too late, that the man had succumbed to his injuries. It was only the strong heartbeat against his ear and gently pressure of arms wrapped around him that told Damian that Richard was still present and alive.

“Damian…” Richard started slowly after far too long. “This isn’t the same as your other killings. Self-defense is not a crime, not in my books. You’ll only kill again - truly, cold-blooded murder - if you want to. And I know you don’t want to.”

“I-”

“Stop talking. You’re not in your right state of mind. If you don’t want to go home, at least follow me to the medbay. I’ll fix you up, get an antidote in your system, and you’ll rest. And then, when you’re safe and healthy again, we’ll talk, okay? Please.” And there was that word again. Fix. Richard still wasn’t giving up. A small keening sound broke it’s way past Damian’s lips and he became all too aware of his blurred vision and let cheeks. Richard was still here, still giving him an option.

Perhaps he wasn’t in his right state of mind. Maybe the fear gas was still in his system, maybe the scene around him wasn’t that bad and it was the gas making him see things. He wouldn’t know unless he took Richard’s offer. But Damian was scared. He was scared of the buzzing, of the weight of reality pressing in. He didn’t want to leave behind his cotton world, didn’t want to face the harsh truth and consequences of what he’d done.

“I’m scared.” The admission came out without consent, causing Damian to wince hard. Richard didn’t seem to notice, only holding Damian tighter despite his own discomfort.

“I know, Baby Bat. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’m gonna handle everything, I promise.”

With more fear in his heart than Damian ever knew possible, Damian pulled away, training his eyes on the ground, and grasped Richard’s hand. Richard gave a comforting squeeze and began to pull him along.

Together, they left.

[mycandylavynder]

V-Day with Cas

“Well, speak of the devil,” Priya says as the beautiful blonde saunters into the room. Everyone in the room turns their heads to admire Amber who is draped in a teal tulle maxi dress that fits her like a glove. Her golden locks are kissing her bare shoulders and a thick gold choker that v-shaped down into her generous cleavage wrapped around her neck.

She gracefully approaches us without a care in the world. “What are you guys doing down here?” She asks, placing an air kiss on Priya’s cheek. It’s still so weird to think that only a few years ago Priya made Amber shiver in her presence.

“Just hanging out,” Priya responds.

“Why? Should we be somewhere else?” Alexy quickly follows up.

“Of course. I assumed you all would be upstairs. Castiel’s band is about to play.”

“I thought upstairs was VIP.” I chime.

She swats her hand, “It is, but don’t worry about it. Follow me and I’ll get you in. Besides, it's MUCH better upstairs.”

We all look at each other and shrug at the fortunate turn of events. We trail behind Amber’s flurry of teal tulle. My stomach is beginning to tighten with each step we take toward the staircase.

Amber smiles at the bouncer as we approach him. "They're with me," she says swirling her polished finger in a circular motion.

The bouncer nods and opens the black rope for us. "So do you know the person throwing the party?" Alexy asks as we begin our grand ascent up the staircase.

"Natalia? Oh yes, she's wonderful. Let's hurry though, Crowstorm is about to go on and I don't want to miss my favorite song."

Everyone picks up their pace as I squeeze and twist the straps of my purse. Something is chewing holes into my stomach and I take a few deep breaths to brace myself.

"Hey, are you alright?" Chani whispers to me as we reach the landing.

"I'm fine. Why?" I say too quickly.

"Just making sure since you are practically strangling your purse."

I giggle as I loosen my iron grip on my purse. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little... excited."

Chani nods as we follow behind the rest of the ogling group. The upstairs has a completely different feel than downstairs. The mood lighting and smells coordinating with each room, the art installation of live models wearing high-end fashion, the suited waiters carrying fine wines and elaborate chocolates, the security, the expensive looking people...it all screams exclusivity. It is wild to think that Castiel is playing at something so...upper crust.

"Come. They're in the red room." Amber says leading the way. I snatch a glass of champagne from a waiter as we pass by and scarf it down.

We pass through drawn velvet curtains to enter into a room with red lighting. Rose petals litter the floor and beautifully burgundy dressed tables with scented lit candles sparkling around us. The room is filled with people lounging about but not stuffy and crowded like downstairs.

A tall brunette with a long bouncy ponytail waves Amber down when she sees her.

"Ambe! There you are!"

"Hey Natalia, I hope you don't mind I brought some friends."

"Of course not.” She says as she gives us a polite wave. Amber and Natalia break into a conversation and so does the rest of our small entourage. I don’t really hear what anyone is saying as the only thing I seem to be able to focus on is the aching in my stomach.

A single chord breaks through the chattering crowd and everyone falls silent as his raspy voice begins to fill the air. The velvet curtains part ways to reveal Castiel and his crew as the tempo dramatically picks up. The crowd hoots and begins to sway and wiggle under his musical spell. I look at our small group. A smile creeps onto my face as I watch them all break into dance, carefree and a little buzzed. I squeeze in with Chani and Priya and let myself go.

The knots in my stomach are slowly untying as I feel the music vibrate through my body, becoming one with my cells. Every note he hits and every cord he strums, I am pushed over the edge by his electric sound - and so is the crowd. The crowd is twisting, turning, screaming along to each word that falls from his lips. His red locks fall in his face and he flips his hair back in the smoothest way. His brooding grey eyes fervidly scans through the mass of bodies. Almost every girl in the room is giving him bedroom eyes, not to mention several guys. It’s clear he knows he has the room eating out of his palm as a smug, yet frustratingly sexy, look settles upon his face.

My stomach knots up again as I briefly catch his eyes. His guitar leads into the next song, as the drums pound away. It’s truly wild to think I gave him my V-card.

The music plays on, wooing the crowd as the band slips from song to song. I try not to lose my mind to the butterflies in my stomach. I slip down a few glasses of champagne as a waiter saunters by before carrying on with the shenanigans. Towards the end of the set, Cas adjusts the position of his guitar. He takes the mic off the stand as a lazy grin plays on his lips. “So, as many of you know, our generous host Natalia is engaged to our bastard of a manager. ” he pauses and gestures his free hand toward the tall brunette as the crowd laughs and cheers. “And seeing as I gotta keep my manager somewhat happy, he requested we play this song for you, Natalia.”

I watch Natalia spring happily toward the front of the stage while a man in his mid-thirties and fancy threads sneak from the curtains. He is holding a large bouquet of flowers, making the audience gasp and clap. Cas looks at the band and nods before adjusting the mic.

His voice is sexier than ever as he coos the first line to the song, “You’re just too good to be true, Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

His eyes meet mine as he sings, “You’d be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much.” My cheeks are getting hot and I hate it. Last time I saw him I yelled at him for treating me like a 15-year-old at his concert and here I am blushing like a 15-year-old at his concert. I shake my head and try to zone out. After all, he is a musician working for the crowd, he was bound to make eye contact with me sooner or later. It doesn’t mean anything at all.

As if Castiel’s glistening tattooed arms aren’t enough of a distraction, the host and the manager are all over each other. I take another drink from a tray, willfully giving myself over to the drunken territory. I manage to get through the rest of the song by looking everywhere but the stage.

“Alright, alright, enough with the mushy shit. I’m sure many of you on this lovely Valentine’s Day might be feeling a little left out after that display. But don’t worry, if you’re feeling heartbroken or like this Valentine’s Day can just go to hell...well this next one’s for you!” Castiel says as the audience whoops back.

My heart falls into the pit of my stomach when I hear the beginning chords. “No…I-I can’t,” I whisper to the pulsating music.

“You remind me of summertime on this cold winter day,” echos behind me as I push my way out the room in a sloppy sprint.

Air. I need air. I stumble toward the end of the hall where two large glass doors overlook a balcony. I slip out the door into the cool night air. Closing my eyes, I rest my arms on the railing and lean forward. My head is dizzy. I feel like I’m stuck on a merry-go-round, but the crappy kind at the playground where you sit in the middle and some overgrown child flings the thing around and around. And I am going so fast that all the colors in the world bleed together into one muddy mess and I’m gripping the bars so tight ‘cause if I let go I’m going to fly into some colorless abyss.

What the hell am I talking about? Get a grip.

I see a bench in the corner and slump down in it. My face feels hot and my eyes are watery but I’m not quite drunk enough to cry. I close my eyes again, letting the chilly night nip my skin as my brain sways back and forth.

“There you are! What the hell are you doing out here? Are you trying to catch a cold?”

I groan, not bothering to open my eyes. I hear him sit down next to me and scoff, “Are you drunk?”

I don’t say anything. I just take in the heat radiating off of his body. He takes off his black leather jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. We sit in silence for several long seconds, listening to the muffled sounds of the party sneaking outside. “Well, I guess I’ll go tell the others where you’re at.”

“Please... I really want you to stay.” I whisper, gently grabbing his thigh.

I hear him sigh and settle back into the seat.

A few quiet moments slip between us before he speaks, “So...did you not like the show?”

“W-what?” I open my eyes and sit up, sensing an argument on the horizon.

“I saw you run out.”

I sigh, feeling hot and trapped. “Yeah...that isn’t it. The show was amazing. You were amazing.”

“Then why’d you leave?”

“I-I don’t know.” My head is still spinning. I can’t bring myself to look at his face although I feel his eyes on me. It’s then that I realize my hand is still on his thigh. I politely remove it.

He seems to notice but doesn’t address it. He just says, “Well, tell me something? What’s going on with you? Last time I saw you, you about ripped my head off.”

“Yeah, well, you deserved it.”

“Hmm, yeah...I did. But you definitely didn’t have to yell at me like that. You know that if you just talk to me I’ll listen.”

I shake my head, trying hard to keep my watery eyes from spilling. “I-I can’t say that that’s true, Castiel. There is so much that we can’t talk about without you getting pissed at me and quite honestly it’s killing me.” My voice wavers as I speak and I can’t stop myself from crying. I huff, dragging the palms of hands beneath my eyes. Great, now my makeup is ruined.

His fingertips tickle my face as he gently brushes a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Let’s talk about it then.” His voice is even and cool.

I look at him. Searching his calm grey eyes I find assurance. “I ran out tonight because it still hurts. It still really sucks when I think about our break up. And I thought that after four years, it wouldn’t still hurt this bad. You look amazing on stage. You always have. But the first time I saw you at the Snake Room... I couldn’t help but feel angry that it had been four years. That I had played my part in letting all of this time pass between us and that I didn’t find a better answer to our relationship.

“And I hate that I can’t say that to you. That I am really, really, really fucking sorry things played out the way they did. That I hate it, that I’ve always hated it. It always fucking sucked to think about.

“And tonight, you’re so annoying. You looked so unfairly sexy. Everyone was eating out of your hand, including me. And then that fucking song, it was hard enough to listen to it on my own… I couldn’t bear to watch you perform it in person.”

He is quiet as his eyes wander off of my face. But then he smirks and says, “To be fair, you are also unfairly sexy tonight.”

I roll my eyes and smile in spite of myself.

“But seriously, Candy, I’m sorry too. I know I’ve been tough on you. But seeing you again...it’s been hard for me too. Breaking up with you sucked. I really really liked you a lot. And I still do. And I hope we can resolve whatever it is holding us back because I want to know who you are now.

“Every time we are together, I see things that are new about you and I want to know more. But don’t worry, sometimes you reassure me that some of your quirks are still the same. Like how you still try to fix everyone's problems.”

I nudge his arm and he chuckles. I can’t stop myself from giggling too. I feel like I finally jumped from the merry-go-round and safely landed on the ground. I rest my head on his shoulder and he casually throws his arm around me. I close my eyes again and take a deep breath. I say, “I still like you too.” And I know he knows what I truly mean because I know what he meant too.

He lazily runs his fingers through my hair as I fill my lungs with his after-show sweat and cologne.

After a while, he gently lifts my chin. My spine tingles with goosebumps as he gently presses his warm lips tenderly against mine. He quickly pulls away though, biting his bottom lip. “Let’s head inside so that your friends know you haven’t been eaten alive. If we stay out here alone any longer, I might just eat you myself, little girl.”

His breath tickles my ear as he says the last part. My knees feel a little weak at the thought. “Don’t ask for trouble with me, Cas. I’m in the mood to give you hell.”

He flashes the cheekiest smile and grabs my hand to pull me up with him. “Come on then. As sexy as that would be, my conscience won’t let you raise hell out here in the open.”

My stomach is in knots again, but this time it is less anxious. I let him lead me back inside where we rejoin the others. But I still hope he leads us back to where we can end this night alone...

[trashboatprince]

Time for another one-shot of Beast Bendy’s time in the studio as a little toon.

Dober, if you want me to change anything, let me know, I’m just going with my own headcanon on Bendy’s creation from the Ink Machine for this.

On with the fic!

--

Thomas Conner never expected that when he was hired by Joey Drew to work on installing things, that he’d eventually find himself involved in creating life through machinery and animation and not in the way it was done upstairs.

Months and thousands of dollars went into rebuilding the inside of the studio. Parts were left the same, but many others were completely rebuilt from scratch. Upstairs, in an area once used for offices, had been converted into a whole new room for a big project, the Ink Machine, designed by Wally Franks. However, the one that stood before Thomas now was the prototype, the one that he had designed with Joey and Wally, to show GENT what it was that they were investing in and having sponsorship with.

The machine was meant to produce more and more ink, enough for the animators to use for years to come without ever spending a dime to any ink-producing companies. It was obviously a huge expense to save a couple hundred bucks, that’s what Tom thought, until Joey began explaining more and more of what else it was going to do.

‘Bring life to the cartoons’, he had happily announced when the mechanic asked about any other purposes for the Ink Machine.

Don’t animators do that already? With all those drawings and music and stuff?

Nope, no, no, no! Joey had shook his head, getting too close to Thomas, as he loudly informed him that he was literally going to bring life to the cartoons.

Thomas left and came back a week later because the higher ups forced him to come back to the crazy man and his little studio.

If it wasn’t for the pretty girl who worked in the sound department, Thomas wouldn’t bother dealing with listening to Joey’s plans and ideas for using magic and shit to make cartoon characters into living beings. That lovely angel kept him from also strangling Drew.

Oh Allison, you are a saving grace...

The man stared at the machine in front of him. This wasn’t going to work, this was completely stupid and pointless. He looked over at Wally, who looked nervous as he fumbled with the controls of the machine. The studio’s man projectionist, Norman Polk, stood nearby, holding a tin with a cartoon reel inside of it.

“Where’s Drew?” Thomas asked, crossing his arms.

“He said he couldn’t come for the tests, remember? He has that week-long trip he’s on, so we’re just gonna have to do it all ourselves. Says he trusts us completely.” Wally grunted as he tried to turn a loose bolt on the machine, gotta make sure it doesn’t explode on them.

“I doubt it’s gonna work,” Norman sighed, drumming his fingers on the tin, “but if Mr. Drew thinks it’ll make any sort of progress... can’t help but to try it, ya know?”

Thomas scoffed, looking around the room. There had been ink-painted circles and symbols all over, including on the floor, under the nozzle of the machine. The air was freezing inside the room, and the lights were terribly dim, poor Wally had to hold a flashlight in his mouth as he worked.

The information that Joey had given them over the month since the machine’s completion was basically summed up as ‘put the reel into the machine, speak the incantation, and let the ink flow’.

Sounded simple enough, but this was nonsense. Whatever, as Wally puts it, Joey signs the checks, might as well do this to humor him. He glanced at the doorway, knowing that upstairs was the offering room, set up with what Joey claimed as ‘gifts to the gods’ for this project. Thomas was surprised that they weren’t using the big Ink Machine that Wally had designed, but then again, gotta try the prototype first. Plus, the new machine was still in construction, can’t use it if it wasn’t fully up to speed. 

The switch in the offering room, once the break room, had been flipped already, the pipes were flowing with ink and they were gonna back up and explode if Franks didn’t finish!

“Done!” Wally grinned, stepping back. “Now for da reel, Mista Polk!” He held out a hand and Norman rolled his eyes, giving it to Wally, telling the janitor to be careful.

From what Tom knew, the cartoon was the very first one that was distributed to the public, The Dancing Demon. He had only seen it once, when he got stuck watching it in the theater room with some of the other employees. It was simple, just that Bendy character, dancing to a song, before the tune changes and he just goes nuts with his dancing, only to get pulled off the stage by a cane.

Well, almost gets pulled off. His head is taken away, but his body remains and happily continues to dance.

It was dumb and silly, but people like it, and it’s the movie that Joey insisted be used. Though, there was a bitter tone to his voice when he said that it had to be that one, it had some guy name Henry involved with it. A bit of asking around and Tom found out that Henry was the original animator for the studio and co-founder, lucky bastard escaped this place when he had the chance.

He watched as Wally inserted the reel into the machine, looking at the giant ink tank with a nervous glance. “Here goes nothin’...” He threw the switch and the machine came to life.

It loudly banged around, nearly pulling the bolts that kept it down out of the floor. Ink splattered everywhere and the three men has to hold up their arms to keep the ink from getting on them.

“Time to recite that bullshit!” Thomas shouted over the loud noises.

The words Joey made them memorize was complete nonsense to the mechanic, but he figured it was probably Latin or Aramaic, at least from what Norman figured. It made no sense to him and he didn’t want to know what he was saying loudly over the sounds of the Ink Machine.

The markings around them started to glow faintly yellow, the color spreading out onto the walls and floor as they continued to speak. The machine stopped spraying ink as something seemed to be wedged in the faucet, trying to come out.

Whatever it was, it was trying to force itself out.

Running over, Thomas grabbed onto the wet, solid lump of ink without thinking. He pulled hard on it, hearing it come out with a cartoony-pop sound, ink spraying out once more as he landed on his back, a weight dropped on him hard and knocked the air outta of him.

He coughed and shoved whatever was on him off, hearing it splat next to him as the machine was shut off by Wally. “Conner! Are you alright?” Norman asked as he approached.

“Fine, uhg.” Thomas coughed, sitting up to rub at the ink on his face. He stopped when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, nearly jumping when the lump he had pulled out started to rise up.

The three men watched in horror as the object rose, it was rather tall, and ink was shifting about on it. A lump formed, almost like a head, where strange horn-like appendages grew from it. A blob of ink dropped from the ‘head’ and the three stared at the white, toothy smile that showed.

Tom was suddenly yanked back, pulled away from the smiling mass and the circle he had fallen in.

The mass wiggled and tried to move towards them, two bumps come from what could be its shoulders. They flailed, spraying bits of ink about, as it tried to follow them. Then it dropped forward, face-first into the floor.

“... Is it dead?” Wally whispered, gripping Thomas’ shoulders tightly.

A strange, high pitched squeal came from the thing, making them all shout in alarm. They watched as it curled in on itself as the circle started to glow brighter than before and Thomas was blinded for a moment.

The light faded, and the room was plunged in sudden darkness as the power went out throughout the studio. They were left alone in pitch blackness with a creature they created.

There was a clicking sound, and a light turned on, Norman had found the flashlight Wally had used. He pointed it at the blob, only for them to see that it was gone.

“Oh shit, oh shit...” Wally wheezed out.

“Where did dat thing go?” Norman moved the light about, trying to find it.

Thomas watched as the light’s beam moved about, before he spotted something. He stood up quickly, taking the flashlight from Norman, and pointed it at the Ink Machine. “Found it.”

There was a bit of solid black, and solid white, peeking out from behind the machine. What looked like fingers in white gloves gripped the side of the machine, and a black and white face that was way too familiar to the mechanic was looking at them in fear.

“Sweet mother o’ Mary, we made Bendy a livin’ toon.” Norman said from behind Thomas. “Dat crazy ol’ Mr. Drew was right.” “You gotta be kiddin’ me!” Wally exclaimed loudly, making Bendy hide from the shout. Thomas turned, glaring at the shorter man, before approaching the Ink Machine.

He knelt down, seeing that Bendy, if that was really him, had pressed himself against the wall, unsure of where to go or what to do.

It was amazing, he looked exactly like the cartoon character, just completely solid and alive. He looked so small and scared as he looked at Thomas with large, soulless, black eyes.

Soulless... that’s one way of putting this. There was something so strange about him, he looked just like the character, seemed to register fear and curiosity as he looked at the flashlight and at Thomas, but... he gave off an air that didn’t sit right with the man.

Then again, he was made through demonic magic, a cartoon, and ink, so there was obviously gonna be something so otherworldly of this guy.

With a heavy sigh, he held out a hand. “Come on, kid, let’s get ya outta here.”

Bendy looked at the offered hand before carefully touching it, just as the lights started to come back on. “Do we tell Joey about this?” Thomas heard Wally say as he picked up Bendy.

“Let’s see if the kid lives, who knows how stable he is with that prototype we designed. It was only meant for making ink, not creating life like this.”

“Joey’s still gonna wanna know.” Norman frowned.

“I’ll tell him when he gets back, I’ll even write down everything that happened, I’ve got this.” Thomas replied as he walked past, heading to get back upstairs and out of that room. He had taken noticed that when the lights turned on, the walls were stained a sepia tone of yellow, he hoped that it didn’t cause any problems, nor did he want to hear any complaints from Sammy if those stains got down to the music department on the floor below.

He’d deal with all of the clean up late, right now, he needed to deal with the little cartoon he had helped in creating.

He hoped this didn’t come back to haunt him.

--

The room this took place in is the room where Henry collapsed at the end of chapter one)

[hailsuzalulu]

The Cute Quirk Analyst

I took way too long to get anything at all out and I want to apologize to my Giftee @rvkiakuchiki, for having to deal with the fact that I am a horrible Santa. I’m hoping to make this a several parter because everything in life just seems to hate me. But so far this is what I have and I’m planning to update every chance I get the time

I am so so so so sorry for posting so late, but I hope you enjoy what I have.

“ I swear to god round-face, if you ask again about that damn secret santa i’m going to blast you sky high and not wait for you to float your ass down.” Bakugo growled, sending a signature glare to the shorter girl walking by his side.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud Blasty, it’s a holiday tradition! There’s just something thrilling about not knowing who’s going to give you a present, it’s fun to see what people think about you.” Uraraka teased, jabbing her partner in the side with her elbow. Her grin could only be described as shit eating, to think she used to be the sweetest person that he knew. Being partners since UA really had changed her, maturing her from someone who was polite to everyone and overly bubbly, to someone who wasn’t afraid to throw sass and get tough when she needed to.

Bakugo huffed at the jab, focusing his attention on the scenery below him. People hustled around the streets, buying gifts for the holidays and going on window shopping dates. Snow slowly fell, a flake showing itself here or there. Ground Zero eyed the alley ways that were sure to be littered with villains just waiting for something sparkly to cross their paths. And today was their lucky day. A scream emanated from across the street where a jewelry store was getting robbed. The villain dashed out of the door, knocking people over as he ran down the street. A wicked grin spread across Bakugo’s face, the two heros shared a glance before taking of into action, jumping from roof to roof of the buildings, watching the movements of the villain. He was clearly an amature, his movements through the streets and alleyways were erratic, like he was making up where he ran on the fly. Ground Zero and Uravity followed him closely, hoping to trap him before he hurt anyone. They had practiced this maneuver several times, chasing low time villains throughout the abandoned alleyways until they reached a dead end. It minimized fighting, damage, and the possibility of civilians getting caught in the fray. He fell for it easily, skidding to a stop when Bakugo chased him to a wall, effectively trapping the villain.

“Geez, and I was really hoping for a real fight today.” Ground Zero spoke as he approached the villain, cracking his knuckles as he prepared to take the guy in. Uravity floated down beside him from the rooftop.

“Don’t be mean Zero.” Uravity sighed. If she was being honest she hoped for a fight too, but if that wasn’t the case then it meant far less paperwork, and that she was fine with.  The villain took steps back as the heroes approached, the bag on his side jingling with the stolen jewelry. He was sweating buckets as the heroes came closer, distressed and cornered, he backed himself into the wall and then he froze. Now he had only one option, the one any cornered animal would use.

“Look out, he’s about to use his quirk.” A voice came over their coms, one that neither hero had heard before.

“Who the fuck-” Ground Zero began to ask, before he was cut off by being pulled violently toward the villain by his gauntlets. Instantly Bakugo set off explosions, splitting from the guy’s hold.

“His quirk is Magnetism. He can attract the metal in your gear.” The voice spoke again through the coms.

“Zero!” Uravity yelled as the guy pulled her towards him, her belt buckle the source of the magnetism, Bakugo leaped into action before she could fall into his hold, shooting forward with an explosion. He reared back to aim a punch at the villain, before getting stopped by the villain’s quirk. The metal of his gear was held in place by the magnet, stopping Bakugo from moving away to toward the villain.

“Ground Zero, distract him somehow. It’ll stop his quirk.” The voice said in his ear again. Bakugo let out a growl.

“I dunno who the fuck you are but you damn well better not be wrong about this.” He was out of options, not being able to move his body to attack left him with few options, the person on the other end of the communicator voicing the best option that came to mind. Ground Zero let off a loud explosion, catching the villain’s attention enough to break his concentration and let his quirk’s grip loose. Uravity used the chance to punch the villain and put him in cuffs. She stood up, the villain lying on the ground below her, and let out a relieved sigh. The heroes pulled the man to his feet, leading him down the alley towards the police sirens going off in the distance. After dealing with turning the villain into the police, the hero’s checked the time to realize their patrol shift was up. They both headed back to the agency, and unfortunately, had paperwork waiting for them both.

“Hey Bakubro, are you ready for the secret santa?” Kirishima asked, leaning his body weight against the hero sitting at his desk. Bakugo straightened his posture under the weight of who he could only call his best friend.

“I’m not doing it.” He grumbled, reading over his progress on the report before sighing and turning in his chair to face Kirishima, he needed a break anyways.

“How come? You gotta do it, it’s part of the holiday fun!” Kirishima exclaimed, his smile blinding.

“Because I don’t want to.” Bakugo responded nonchalantly. He reached back to pick up the coffee cup from his desk, a plain white mug with the words ‘Fuck off’ on the bottom, displaying his mood to any bitch that watched him take a sip. Bakugo downed the rest of the caffeinated liquid, scowling at the taste of cold coffee.

“Strange, I thought Uraraka told me that you were doing the secret santa this year.” Kirishima muttered, scratching the back of his head.

Bakugo’s back cracked as he stood and stretched, moving his head side to side to pop his stiff neck as well. “I need more coffee.” He groaned, heading for the employee lounge to make another cup. Hopefully one more would be enough to get him through the day.

“You should probably get something else man, that much caffeine will keep you up all night.” Kirishima insisted, following Bakugo through the office. It was late already, maybe an hour and a half before everyone started to go home. The sun outside the large office windows was close to beginning to set, the sky a nice yellow color.

Bakugo responded with a grunt, knowing that Kirishima was right, but he was too tired to care. Who would have thought that paperwork could make someone so tired, way more tired than the several small time villains he took down over the day. There weren’t even any damages or casualties for any of them! If that was the case the paperwork and reports would have doubled, maybe tripled in size. No one ever told him in UA that being a hero required so much awful desk work.

Tiredly Bakugo took the kettle off the stove and filled it with water, setting it back on the burner, he turned of the flames and leaned against the counter to wait for the shitting thing to go off. Damn office didn’t even have the good kind of coffee, not even a coffee maker, just that instant crap along with shitty powdered creamer. It was annoying, such a high time hero agency didn’t even spend the little bit of extra money on a fucking coffee maker? Fucking cheapskates. To the side he could hear Kirishima digging in the fridge for something, probably a snack that he brought that someone had taken or moved without his permission.

“Oh, Bakugo there you are!” A bubbly voice broke the mild silence in the room.

“What do you want 3D printer?” Bakugo asked, greeting Yaoyorozu as she walked into the room. She didn’t even react to the nickname, used to what Bakugo called everyone at this point.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! You need to pick your person for the secret santa.” She explained, a basket with folded pieces of paper in it.

“I’m not doing it.” Was his simple answer. The kettle began to scream, signaling the boiling of the water. Bakugo turned off the burner and poured the hot water into his mug, reaching for the coffee powder on the shelf above.

“Your name is in the drawing.” Yaoyorozu pointed out, holding the basket out to Bakugo.

“I didn’t put it in.” He growled, beginning to get pissed at how much people were asking him about this fucking event. Then it clicked, “Fucking round face.” Bakugo sighed and turned back to Momo. “I’m dropping out then.”

“You can’t, then that leaves someone without a gift.” Momo pushed the basket closer to Bakugo’s chest. “ Just do it Bakugo?” She pleaded, giving a small smile in hopes that it would get the temperamental hero in front of her to give in.

“Do it man! It’s fun!” Kirishima encouraged, holding up his own slip of paper between two fingers.

“Fine! I’ll fucking do it. A gift card should work just fine for anyone right.” Bakugo grumbled, shoving his hand into the basket and pulling out the first slip of paper he grabbed. Unfolding the slip revealed the name “Who the hell is Izuku Midoriya?”

“T-That would be me.” A small voice stuttered from the doorway, a mass of green hair and star like freckles making its mark on everyone in the room. Mostly Bakugo, because damn was he cute. Fuck! No! Stop thinking like that! You don’t even know him!

Uraraka peeked from behind the other, her face like the cat who caught the mouse. And Bakugo was the mouse, because he fell right into her clutches, and that pissed him off.

“When I get my hands on you, you’re gonna regret it.” He growled, but the threat was met by snickering from the bubble faced girl who knew she was won the fight for now.

“Oh c’mon Blasty. Put the aggression in your pocket and meet our new team member!” She exclaimed, patting the nervous looking man on the back.

“H-Hi.” Midoriya stuttered, smiling nervously and giving a little wave.

“He’s a quirk analyst! He’s the one that warned us during that one fight.” Uraraka smiled, pulling Midoriya closer to her in a friendly side hug. Midoriya flushed at the contact, fiddling with the name tag that hung around his neck. Several pens and pencils were clipped to the lanyard, along with a few hero buttons, among them being All Might, Ingenium, Froppy, and Ground Zero. This guy was a nerd wasn’t he. Bakugo turned to finish making his coffee, scowling at the water in his mug that had cooled significantly by this point. He glanced at the jar of coffee powder in his hand and finally decided against it, putting the jar back and instead grabbing some green tea. Cooling tea at least tasted better than cooling coffee, that shit just tasted nasty.

“What’s a quirk analyst?” Kirishima asked, confusion written all over his face.

“It’s someone who analyzes quirks and figures out how they work. Most of the time people in the profession have analyzing quirks that can help them better understand what’s going on in a person’s body when they use their quirks. I’ve actually been very eager to learn more about all of your quirks, more than I already have that is.” Midoriya explained, still playing with his name tag. He seemed a bit less nervous now, good, people who were constantly nervous got annoying real fast.

Bakugo took a sip of his tea, throwing out the used tea bag. Thank god the water was still warm, anything as disappointing as cold tea would throw off his already teetering mood even more.

“More than you already have?” Momo asked, setting the basket of names on the table and taking a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs.

“Um, I’ve kinda already studied them quite a lot. I watch several news feeds and just about any footage of uses of your quirks that I can find and then I figure out whatever I can from those bits of information. I know the basics at least of how your quirks work.” Midoriya muttered in response.

“Oh! Oh! Do me! What do you know about me?” Kirishima jumped at the chance to see what Midoriya knew about him. Damn eager idiot.

“Let me see…” Midoriya trailed off, reaching behind him and pulling a worn notebook from his back pocket. He quickly flipped through the pages until he found the one titled “Red Riot, Quirk: Hardening. You can harden your body to withstand almost any attack, and very few singular attacks have knocked you off your feet in that state let alone got the chance to harm you. Prolonged use of your quirk weakens your ability to use it, and over time of taking multiple hard hits it will begin to fail. Your body becomes very sharp when you use your quirk and that itself can be used a weapon. Hand to hand combat has been growing better and better since UA and by now you’re a very hard hitter that can be useful in both defense, rescue, and attack positions as a hero.” Midoriya read off, drifting into a bit of a muttering state.

“Wow, you really do know your stuff!” Kirishima said, amazed at just how much this guy knew about his quirk.

“It’s not really much, I just observe what I can and write down what I see.” He flushed, closing the notebook and shoving it back into his back pocket. “ I hope that I can help all of you, especially when it comes to villains. Thank you for allowing me to work with you all.” Midoriya bowed, smiling before taking his leave.

“He seems cool.” Kirishima commented enthusiastically

“Seems like a nerd to me.” Bakugo retorted, taking another sip of his tea, using his other hand to rub his aching head.

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Uraraka interjected. “He’s so nice though, and super nice. You could learn a thing or two from him hot head.” She smirked. Her shitty bubbly face pissed him off, but he didn’t feel like doing anything about it now, he was way too tired.

“Shut up rosy cheeks.” Bakugo retorted, wanting nothing more than to be home right now. “I need to finish that last report, but mark my words, tomorrow I’m gonna kick your ass in sparring.” He passed a light glare at Uraraka as he passed her.

“Just try it Fireworks!” She called out the door toward Bakugo’s retreating form.