#I need to take a jackhammer to this write's block | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

afictionaladventure16 · 2 years ago

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I rlly like your 'taking it all in' series. U rlly know how to pull heartstrings 😭. I was wondering if you could write a short piece or something about the reader and her estranged mother where they do meet or the mother gets in contact with the reader and it's a pretty angsty moment? Idk just a thought 😌

Taking It All In (Pedro Pascal x Daughter!Reader)

Pt. III

A/N: hmmm a gif of a young pedro pascal... whatever could that mean? Anyway, thank you for your kind words! I hope you enjoy this lil angsty but fluffy Part 3!

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Previously

Word Count: 3,936

Rice, that was all you needed. It was all your dad sent you to the store for. You didn’t understand why this man would forget the main ingredient in a dish, but then you were the same way, so you understood in some way.

You had your head down, looking at your phone, reading your last text message from your dad. You had texted him making sure that rice was all he needed, you felt like you were waiting forever for those three little dots to stop moving.

You felt the body of another person colliding against you, “Oh! Sorry!” you exclaimed as you looked up at the person. “I was so distracted with…” you trailed off as the woman you had just bumped into turned around.

“It’s alright!” It was her. Your mother. Of all places, she was right in front of you in a store you always shopped at. You wondered how many times you had been in the same room as her and didn’t even know it. “You alright?” she asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Y-Yeah,” you said.

“Mom! Mom! Can I have these please?” A little girl ran up to her holding up a box of cookies. Your little sister.

“Oh, I don’t know, what do you think your father would say?”

“I think he’d say yes,” she said with a huge grin.

You had to get out of there. You placed the bag of rice on a nearby rack. She didn’t even recognize you.

You walked out of the store, you took in a deep breath as your heart pounded like a jackhammer against your ribcage. The sounds of the cars passing were washed out by your heartbeat.

You need to get home.

You began to run home, putting every little ounce of energy into your legs. Thankful that home was only a block away.

Only a block away, your thoughts traveled back.

You made it to the building, and you felt the walls begin to close in as you walked into the building. You rushed over to the elevator doors, continuously pressing the button.

You couldn’t recall hearing the elevator door ding, nor could you recall getting inside your floor.

All you heard were muffled voices, you leaned against the door. You closed your eyes, the jackhammer still at play.

Pedro had heard the door closing, he had been calling your name for the past minute but was met with no response. He walked over to the front door, only to be met with you sitting against it, eyes closed, body shaking. “Cariño, que te pasa?” He rushed over to you, kneeling down next to you. But you didn’t say a word, you broke into a sob. Pedro didn’t say anything as he pulled you into an embrace.

“I saw her,” you began to say.

“Who?”

“Mom, I saw her,” Pedro didn’t know what to say, his mind fumbled for words while his heart ached to hear one of his deepest fears. His heart was still healing, learning to mourn the loss of something that would never come true. “She didn’t even recognize me,” you sobbed.

Pedro couldn’t help but wonder if it would have been better to have lied to you. To have said that your mother never said any of those words the day you were born. Maybe to even saying that your mother was never present, would it have been easier?

Maybe it would have been easier on you, but surely it would have been more painful for him. Having to recall the day you were born and the days that followed leading up to her leaving, and then having to tell you that none of it ever happened. Like it was nothing. Like she never mattered.

Pedro looked at you, she could have never mattered, she gave him you.

It was a gloomy day, Pedro had a soft spot for gloomy days. He began movie marathons on gloomy days and he was excited to start a movie marathon with his girlfriend.

“Honey, I’m home!” Pedro yelled out as he walked into the apartment. He walked into the kitchen, putting away the snacks for later. Gabriela walked into the kitchen, holding something in her hands. Pedro wasn’t paying much attention to what she was doing, he had heard her footsteps, “I was thinking,” he began to say. “We start with Psycho and then the shinning, but I would really lik-” he stopped mid-sentence, noticing that Gabriela wasn’t even looking at him. “Gabriela, que te pasa? Por que te miras tan triste?” (What’s up, why do you look so sad) He asked as he walked over to her.

“Pedro, tengo unas noticias,” she began. (I have some news).

“Que? Is it your scholarship?” He asked, although Pedro was done with college, Gabriela was still working on her degree. She had a few more years to do to get her Ph.D.

“No, Pedro,” she said softly. She held up the little stick that was in her hand, showing the two little pink lines.

“What’s this?” He asked as he looked it over.

“I’m pregnant.”

He couldn’t believe it, he wasn’t sure if he should cry or jump for joy. Having a kid was one of his biggest dreams, it was something he had hoped to have in the future, but that was the future when he was settled in his career.

“W-what?” he asked in disbelief.

Gabriela felt tears well up in her eyes, “I’m pregnant,” she sobbed. She sat down on one of the chairs in the small dining room, “What are we going to do, Pedro?”

Pedro sat down beside her, he didn’t know. He felt like he was still a baby himself trying to figure out this god-forsaken world. It didn’t help that he had just gotten a new roommate, Oscar, who was also a struggling actor.

But he didn’t want to tell Gabriela something she didn’t want to hear, if anything Pedro felt hopeful, he could make it work. “It’s okay,” he whispered as he pulled her into an embrace, “We’re going to take it one day at a time.”

“But, Pedro, what about your career?”

Pedro held Gabriela’s face in his hands, “One day at a time, Mi Amor.” He gave her a small smile, “And whatever you decide to do, I support it.”

Gabriela placed her hand on her belly, she had always wanted to become a mother. She never imagined it would be so soon, but sometimes the best gifts came when you least expected them to.

“Pedro!” Gabriela yelled from their room.

“Yes?” He yelled back.

“It’s time,” Gabriela said from the doorway.

Pedro stopped in his tracks. Shit. Everything he once knew about what to do at this time flew out the window. He looked at Gabriela who stood at the doorway, hand on her belly, eyes widening. “A-Are you sure?”

She groaned in pain as her contractions began, “Does it look like I’m joking?” Pedro shook his head, he then quickly ran around the apartment looking for the go bag. Which Gabriela found in the closet near the front door.

“Okay!” Pedro said trying to reassure himself, “we got this!”

Gabriela felt every nerve in her body, did they really got this? She didn’t know, but at that moment she was beginning to rethink everything.

Up until that moment, everything felt like a dream and now it was beginning to really set in for her. They were about to become parents. They would no longer only be responsible for themselves but for another life and that scared the shit out of her.

Pedro drove them safely to the hospital, he was at her side at all times. He wanted to make sure she was comfortable.

“Are you still sure about this?” She asked as she laid down on the hospital bed, after minutes of being poked and prodded by nurses and doctors they finally had some time alone. It was the waiting game right now.

“What do you mean?” Pedro asked.

She sighed, “Are you still sure you want this?”

“A family?”

“All of it.”

“What are you trying to say, Gabriela?” Pedro’s heart began to race, he was excited about everything, but of course, there were moments where Gabriela was hesitant in the beginning so he learned to not get his hopes up. Yet, that was at the beginning, it was when they were both scared of the future.

Gabriela opened up her mouth to speak, but another nurse walked in before she even had the chance, “Nevermind,” she whispered.

Gabriela would never get the chance to say what she really wanted to. She would never say that she thought about adoption, but she didn’t want to give up her baby at the same time. She had felt a bond with her baby, even if she had yet to meet the baby. Nurses and doctors came and went every other minute, it was getting closer to the time for her to push.

Eventually, they took Gabriela and Pedro up to the delivery room. Pedro felt like throwing up the whole time, it was nerves he told himself, but only to himself. He didn’t dare mention any of it to Gabriela because she was going through greater pain.

“Okay, momma, we’re gonna need you to push with this next contraction, okay?”

Gabriela held onto Pedro’s hand, “Fuck,” she yelled as the contraction came. She pushed as best as she could. “Fuck you, Pedro!”

Pedro smiled, “you’re doing great, Mi Amor.” That caused Gabriela to groan in annoyance.

“You’re doing great, Gabriela!” the doctor encouraged, “We just need a few more pushes!”

Gabriela let out a deep breath, “I can’t.”

“Gabriela, mi amor, just a few more and we get our baby.”

She looked at Pedro, tears in her eyes, “I don’t want to do this,” she pleaded.

But the two of them were talking about different things and Gabriela knew that which is why she said it. She said it because she knew no one would understand what she really meant.

She cried out as another contraction came, pushing through it.

“I know, Gabriela,” Pedro said as he pushed some of her hair out of her face. “We’re almost there, okay?” he never let go of her hand, even if she wanted him to, he wouldn’t. He was blinded by love and she knew it.

Gabriela pushed through a few more contractions before the sound of crying rang out through the room. Pedro’s eyes lit up at the sight of his and Gabriela’s new baby.

“It’s a girl!” the doctor announced as he placed their new baby girl on Gabriela’s chest.

For a moment, everything Gabriela was so worried about had left.

“She’s everything,” Gabriela whispered in awe, “she’s so-”

“Beautiful,” Pedro said.

For a moment, everything felt okay.

But moments pass.

Pedro felt tears well up in his eyes, Gabriela looked up at him with a smile painted over her face, “Wanna hold her?”

He nodded before gently scooping up his baby girl in his arms, “Hi,” he whispered to the baby. “I’m your papi,” he began to say.

“Say cheese,” one of the nurses said, she held out the camera Pedro had bought for the occasion. The nurse was kind enough to take photos for them throughout the birth.

Pedro looked over at Gabriela, “she’s beautiful, just like her mother.”

Gabriela smiled softly, fading as Pedro’s attention turned towards the baby.

Pedro couldn’t keep his eyes off his baby even as the nurses took her to get checked on, he was right there watching every little thing. He was mesmerized by how two people could create such a beautiful baby.

“Y/N,” he whispered as he watched his baby sleep.

“That’s a pretty name,” Gabriela commented.

“You think so?” She nodded. “Y/N it is.”

“She needs a middle name too,” Gabriela smiled as she watched how mesmerized Pedro was. She had never seen him in such a new light. She wanted everything for him. She would give the whole world to him if she could.

As Pedro looked at his daughter, he felt like Gabriela had already given him the whole world.

Gabriela looked at the crying baby in front of her, she had heard how mothers couldn’t keep away from their babies. How they would always carry them or be near them, but all Gabriela wanted was to be away from her.

Over the past few weeks, Gabriela found it difficult to bond with the baby or to even hold her. Gabriela found it hard to be excited to be a new mother or even happy to have a healthy baby with the man she loved.

Loved. She wasn’t sure if she did anymore.

She wasn’t sure about anything, anymore.

She felt this was typical of her, once things began to become too real for her, she found a reason to leave. Life was becoming too real for her with Pedro and she was beginning to wonder when she would feel happy again.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered to herself. She held her head in her hands, and the sound of the babies crying grew louder and louder.

Pedro ran into the room, “Gabriela, mi amor,” he began as he swooped the baby up from the bassinet, “Todo esta bien?”

Gabriela looked up at Pedro in tears, “I’m tired, Pedro.”

Pedro sighed, gently rocking the baby back to sleep, “Let me take Y/N to my sisters for the day, you get some rest.”

Gabriela wanted more than just a day. Maybe a few days or a couple of weeks. She watched as Pedro grabbed some things for the day, it wasn’t easy to just get up and leave with a newborn.

“Thank you,” she smiled at Pedro as he planted a kiss on her cheek before leaving.

“Anything for you.”

She knew he meant it. He would do anything for her. She felt guilty for everything she had done to him and everything she will do, but she wanted to feel selfish. She wanted to feel happy. She hated feeling guilty.

She hated feeling depressed.

She had dealt with it too long and she didn’t want her daughter to see her this way.

She had to do something.

The only thing she knew to do. Leave.

Gabriela didn’t have much, to begin with, it was easy for her to pack everything in two suitcases and it didn’t take her long.

Before Gabriela left she knew she had to leave a note. She knew Pedro and their daughter deserved at least an explanation. She felt it was the least she could do.

It was almost dark when Pedro entered his apartment, “Amor,” he called out quietly as he carefully placed the baby carrier on the kitchen table. “I think mami’s asleep,” he said softly as he took the baby out of the carrier. “Let’s go see,” he said. He always spoke to the baby even if she didn’t respond, he just smiled at her as if she had.

Pedro was nervous to become a father, especially at a young age and with a challenging career, but the second he laid eyes on his baby girl he knew that he had just received the best gift in life.

Pedro walked into the bedroom, surprised to see that Gabriela wasn’t in bed. “Weird,” he said as he walked out of the bedroom. He thought that maybe Gabriela left to grab something from the store.

Before he could ponder some more, the baby in his arms began crying, “Alright, alright.” He walked over to the kitchen and began prepping a bottle of milk. He thought of himself as the fastest person to make a bottle of milk because he could do it in under a minute if he was awake enough of course.

He sat on the couch as he fed the baby. After a few minutes, the baby fell asleep. Pedro placed her in her bassinet before walking back out into the kitchen to start dinner. He opened the fridge, but something in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Pedro closed the fridge and walked over to the counter where he saw a piece of paper. Pedro’s first thought was it was a note from Gabriela maybe explaining that she went to the store. For a moment, he thought it was pointless to even read it, but of course, he still did.

Pedro,

I’m sorry. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep acting happy when I wasn’t. I love our daughter, but she deserves a mother who wants to be a mother. A mother who is actually happy. You both deserve better. I’m sorry.

Gabriela

Pedro’s heart sank, it was like his world had just turned upside down. Was it him? Was he the reason why Gabriela was no longer happy? Did he miss the signs?

Maybe he should’ve gotten up in the middle of the night a few more times to help out or maybe he should’ve taken the baby from her so she could rest more. He thought he was doing everything he could plus more.

The baby began to cry, pulling Pedro from his thoughts. He walked over to the bedroom where the bassinet was, he couldn’t help but smile at the little one.

“‘S alright,” he whispered as he picked her up. Tears welled up in his eyes as he gently rocked his baby back to sleep. “Papi’s got you,” he whispered.

He looked over at the now empty closet, he didn’t know how he didn’t see it at first. “We’re gonna be okay,” he reassured himself, even though a part of him was hopeful that Gabriela would come back.

Pedro pushed away his thoughts. The damage was done, nothing could be reversed even if he tried so hard to.

“Fuck,” you exclaimed, earning a small glare from your dad, he didn’t really like you to get in the habit of cursing. “Sorry, I just forgot my phone at the store.”

“I’ll go get it,” he offered, knowing that you didn’t want to take your chances on running into your mother again.

“Are you sure?”

He nods, “Why don’t you find us a movie to watch, I’ll be back in a few.”

Pedro walked out of the apartment. The store wasn’t far, so it only took him a few minutes to get there.

He walked up to one of the cashiers, “Hi, my daughter was just in here and she lost her phone. It’s an iPhone with a green case, it has some stickers on it, she said she lost it near the front. She left it with a bag of rice.”

“Do you by chance know what kind of stickers?” the cashier asked.

“Yeah, um, it’s a grogu sticker and an uh- moonknight sticker, I think there might be a Bucky Barnes sticker too.” The cashier nodded before talking into the walkie.

“I have someone looking for it right now.”

Pedro nodded, “I’m gonna be right back, I’m just gonna go grab something.” Pedro walked over to the aisle where the rice was, grabbing the bag he needed for dinner before making his way back over to the front. He grabbed a couple of bars of chocolate, your favorite chocolate of course because he knew that it probably couldn’t heal your heart, but it did help.

He placed the bag of rice and bars of chocolates at the register. “Pedro?” He heard a familiar voice.

He felt frozen, unsure if he should act like he didn’t know the person or turn around and act like nothing had ever happened between the two of them. He wanted to be the bigger person, he turned around, “Gabriela.”

“Wow, you look so good, how have you been?” She asked as she looked at the man in awe. He hoped she felt regret looking at him.

“Good,” he said as he looked around, he didn’t see her kids like you had mentioned. “What about you?”

She chuckled, “could be better, this is my second trip to the store in the last fifteen minutes.” Pedro didn’t say anything as he paid for his things. Gabriela cleared her throat, “So, um… how’s Y/N? She’s what twelve?”

Pedro scoffed in disbelief, “Fourteen.”

“Sorry, it’s just been so long, you know?”

Sometimes, it was better to not be the bigger person, “Here’s that phone, mister,” an employee said as he handed Pedro the phone.

Gabriela’s eyes widen as she saw the phone, she had seen it somewhere. “I’ll see you around, Gabriela,” he said as he thanked the employee and walked out of the store with his things.

“Pedro, wait!” Gabriela ditched her items at the counter, running after Pedro. “Pedro!”

Pedro turned around, “What, Gabriela?”

Gabriela sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“A little too late for apologies.”

“She was here earlier today, wasn’t she?” Pedro remained silent, “I didn’t mean for her to-”

“To what? See you with your new family?”

“Pedro, it isn’t like that,” Gabriela tried to explain.

“Then what is it like, Gabriela? Because to us, it looks like you just replaced us for someone better.”

“Pedro, I was depressed and I didn’t know what to do.”

“You could’ve told me,” Pedro hissed. He didn’t want to be mad at her for being depressed, he was angry because she never said anything and he was angry at himself for not trying harder to notice.

“I didn’t know how! You were so happy and you were so helpful, I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t doing enough!”

“But you did it anyway, you made us feel that way by leaving.”

“Pedro, I fucked up, I know that. I spoke to my husband,” Pedro felt tears well up in his eyes, “we want to get to know Y/N and build something.”

“No,” he hissed. “You’ve done enough.”

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide, Pedro.”

Pedro walked up to Gabriela, “Trust me, Gabriela. You’ve done enough damage and I’ll be damned to see you do any more.” Gabriela remained silent, she felt defeated as she watched Pedro walk away. She knew that she had hurt her daughter, but she felt like she could fix it, but she didn’t know how hurt her daughter really was and how sometimes things can’t really be mended.

Pedro on the other hand, had the urge to punch a wall. He hadn’t felt anger like this in a long time. “Calma,” he told himself as he walked up to the apartment door. He took in a deep breath as he wiped away any evidence of tears on his face. He walked in with a big smile on his face, “Muñeca?”

“In here,” you called out from the couch.

Pedro walked over, tossing the chocolate bars on the coffee table.

“You got me chocolate?” You asked in disbelief. Your eyes were still red and puffy.

Pedro sat down beside you, pulling you in for an embrace and kissing the top of your head, “I love you, mija.”

“I love you too,” you returned the embrace.

Throughout the years, Pedro had dealt with many dark times, some because of Gabriela and some because of his career and family issues. if there was anything that brought him out of it, it was you. You were the reason why he was so happy and content with his life.

You are his reason to continue with the trials and errors of being an actor.

You are his reason.

And he wasn’t gonna let anyone take that away from him.

Pedro Pascal Taglist: @Sophieelizabeth01 @tracysnook @cilliansangel @change-the-world-someday @graciegoeskrazy @oggystine93 @t-stark35 @twkobii @picklehat3r @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @white-wolf-buckaroo @steadydragongalaxy @rooting4theantihero @soupinasock @Ilovehotdadsandshit

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blorbologist · 2 years ago

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Hello! How do you get over writer's block? i'm writing for a poetry competition and the deadline is at the end of the month. The poem I'm working on now is halfway done but for some reason I'm hitting a wall when it comes to the part I really want to write if that makes sense? I feel like I have no inspiration to finish even though I know how I want it to go, and the worst part of it is that I want to start another project T^T how do I do this??

Hi anon!

It's a really, really tricky question to answer, especially due to the deadline. My usual advice would be related to not rushing it, which is... not great if you do have a timeline to adhere to.

Here's what I've got to offer:

Skip ahead. There's no hard rule that you have to write this bit before the next. Even if some of what is to come relies on it, you can make little notes and go back to edit it later.

Write an outline of the scene. No, really - you might know exactly how it goes, but writing it down both puts something on the blank document and might clarify bits you hadn't realized you were struggling with. Even better, there's often a natural inclination to just... dig a bit deeper, which might get you writing some dialog or paragraphs that occur to you that you don't want to forget. Breaking it down really helps!

Take a break. Yes, there's a deadline. No, stressing yourself silly won't help. If the muse just won't flow, be kind to yourself. If you've been bashing your head into a wall and are getting frustrated, take a break. Get away from a screen, or read a book, or take a walk.

Once that's done, though, if you aren't making headway, start brute forcing it. It's not nearly as gritty as it sounds: you just want to get words on a page, whatever way works best for you. I like to do speedwrites (short, timed writing with a friend where we just get as many words as possible onto a page and edit later), because the friend participating holds me accountable and makes me Competitive! And I'm forced to write without Overthinking, which sometimes takes the scene in a new and interesting direction! You can also set writing goals per day, like NaNoWriMo, or write it like a script with just the bare bones of what you want to happen. A little pressure helps some people stay on track.

Change your perspective. Write in a coffee shop or a quiet corner of the library, or make a nest in your closet. Switch up the environment!

Likewise, get yourself into work mode. For me that means a drink (water or coffee) and I must be wearing pants and socks to convince my brain that this is Not goofing off time.

Find ways to stay motivated. Do you have any friends you can share snippets with? The enthusiasm is a great way to keep muse flowing. Or if one part is giving you trouble, hashing it out with a kind listener is great. Reward yourself for reaching your goals! Snackies!! Reread what you've written before bed - I like to do it to catch typos and marvel at what I half-remember writing.

Break out a dictionary, or an old-ass book. Look for some weird but cool words. I compile ones that inspire me. Recently I've added grotto (from a tumblr post), ream of paper (from a fic) and appetite (from a paper) as far as words that Hit Me with some muse. Maybe you'll use them, or maybe they just give vibes. Collect them like flowers.

Finally... you know yourself best. Be honest about your goals, your comfort zone, what you know will motivate you... and then shove yourself just a bit past that. One of these ideas might be just what you need to get yourself where you want to go, but you'll never get there sticking in the same space that caused writer's block forever. Those tools clearly don't work - try out that jackhammer, even if it seems a little scary. Apparently they're really fun to work with!

I know most of this is focused on longer form writing, but I have limited experience with poetry, woop.

Please let me know if any of this helps, I'm cheering you on anon! <33

#ask #writing #on writing #writeblr #my writing

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isolemnlyswear · 4 years ago

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ooo could i request a remus x fem! reader where both of them are very shy so it takes lily, james and sirius to push them together. and whenever they talk to each other they stutter a lot?

always have, always will.

a/n : guess what! i made this way too intense again. i can't help it; its so much easier for me to write a really fucking intense love rather than a crush IM SORRY !! the end is the only cute part the rest is shite

HAPPY (very belated bc i don't have any motivation) BIRTHDAY REMUS MY BEAUTIFUL BOY

taglist : @oldschoolkiddo @amourtentiaa @anchoeritic @faeinorbit @tomriddleswifey @inks-and-jinx @jxsperhxle @punkrific @the-gazette-of-tea @krasivayadarling @orifortheweeknd @fallin-4-ya @incxndio @daisyyy2516 @hoe4cedricdiggory

young!remus lupin x fem!reader

---

"Oh." you sigh, blinking when you see Remus inside. Your huff isn't one of discontent; rather, as you enter the common room, you're simply nervous, timid to deal with the boy. As soon as you want to speak in front of him, to tell him that you really, really like him, you start blushing, turning into a stammering mess.

Alas, you swallow your fear, sitting down on the plush maroon chair opposite him and Sirius; Lily is on the floor, flipping through a potions book, and James is sprawled across your coordinating chair. Remus is lying against the side of the couch, knees up with arms wrapped around his legs. He's smiling, laughing at a joke Sirius told prior to your arrival.

Your heart is aching in your chest, and you try to will it to stop yearning for this boy, but there's a voice inside your head. One that tells you that he's all you could ever need.

Such thoughts reduce you to mush when Lily notices your arrival.

"There she is! How are 'ya?" the redhead greets you happily, and such a simple question is blocked out by your tunnel vision; you can only focus on one thing at the moment, and it's Remus.

You don't speak for a moment, zoning out, but when your eyes meet those of Remus, you quickly snap out of your trance, shaking your head.

"'M fine. J-just tired, I think 'm gonna go upstairs-" you manage to say, but you're cut off by an incredulous Sirius.

"S'five in the afternoon!" he says with a laugh, and you nod.

"And?" you quip, focus now returned when you tear your eyes away from Remus.

"Y'gotta stay down here, dinner's soon!" Lily replies, and you glare at her. She knows exactly why you want to leave at the moment, rather, she knows about how in love you are with one of your best friends. She raises her hands in mock surrender, and you sigh.

It's almost painful, the next hour. You're trying so hard to not make it alarmingly obvious concerning your... issue, but it's proving to be quite difficult.

And then, finally, it's dinner. You're able to get away with not talking, as you pretend to be eating anytime you're asked a question, and Remus is silent as well.

You eventually can sneak away to your dorm, wanting to sleep to rid yourself of the thoughts that give you no reprieve during the day.

But, of course, your dreams are of Remus.

---

Unbeknownst to you, and Remus, the entire rest of the marauders (and about half your year) are painfully aware of your affection for the boy.

And his for you.

So they hatch a plan; it’s simple, but effective.

You're all lounging in the common room -a typical Saturday afternoon - when James poses an odd request.

“Hey, Y/N? D’you wanna go look at something for me?” he asks, fighting back the smile that threatens at his lips. You nod, eager to get away from the tension that you and Remus are swamped by.

“What is it?” you ask as he gets up, leading you up the stairs and to his dorm room. You're confused, eyebrows furrowing and hands wringing nervously.

“You'll see.” James grins at you as you enter the dorm room - which has four beds, three of which are littered with laundry and other teenage boy things, but one is impeccably neat, and you assume it to be Remus’s.

“James, what-” you begin, but he shushes you with a laugh.

“Lily’s cat won't get out of this closet, y’see, and I know you're good with animals and the like, so could you...get it? For Lily, f’course, ” he asks, pointing to a rather large closet in the corner of their dorm.

You raise your eyebrows, but nod, opening the doors and getting in, eyes searching for Lily’s feline friend.

But as soon as you drop to your knees, a soft thud reverberates through the closet. James had shut the doors, and the closet was big enough to where you weren't claustrophobic, thankfully. But there is no cat in sight. None.

Downstairs, however, James had strolled in nonchalantly, and Lily’s grinning.

“What did you do this time, Prongs?” Remus sighs, unaware that the others around him are all aware of their little plot.

“Maybe you should go upstairs and find out,” James says ominously, raising a dark eyebrow. Remus glares at him, sighing.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asks, still holding his gaze on the brunette. Lily giggles, and Remus shoots her an impatient glare. “What did you do to her?” The question is directed at no one in particular, but the irascible tone in the lycanthrope’s voice demands an answer.

“Once again, go upstairs and find out, mate.” James’s tone, however, is one of amusement.

Remus takes in a querulous breath, turning to stomp up the stairs.

Undivulged to him, James is sneakily creeping up the stairs behind the boy.

You're pounding at the mahogany of the closet door, and you've forgotten your wand downstairs, leaving you helpless in the space. You ponder why James would do such a thing, but you brush it off, figuring it was another prank, one of all too many.

“Y/N?” Remus questions hesitantly into the empty dorm, and your ears prick up at his voice.

“I'm in here!!” you shout, pounding at the closet door, and Remus rushes to open it for you.

But as soon as he's inside, helping you up, James, with a flick of his wand, shuts the door.

You're locked in.

With Remus.

And it's absurd, really, how quickly your heart is beating in your ribcage.

“Prongs I swear to Merlin-” Remus starts irritably, but stops himself with a tremulous inhale.

“Fuck,” you whisper, cowering to the back of the closet. Remus’s scent is surrounding you, the honey and chocolate and dark cologne enveloping you in a blanket of bliss. You’re thankful for the dim nature of the closet, for your cheeks are rouging with embarrassment.

Little known to you, Remus’s heart is pounding in his ears, and he’s even more entranced by your scent, what with his dog-like sense of smell. It's his favorite scent in the world, truly, one he could get lost in forever.

“Sorry,” the boy whispers, slumping down across the space from you, and you quirk a brow.

“W-what are you sorry for, Remus?” you ask quietly, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I got us locked in here, didn't I?” You can hear the soft smile in his voice, a bittersweet one.

“But that isn't too bad, is it?” you say, courage surging through your bones as the darkness shields your nerves.

“Oh yeah?” he asks under his breath, laughing softly.

“What, am I that unbearable?” you tease, tucking a strand of fallen hair behind your ear.

“No,” Remus says remarkably quickly, and then he hesitates for a second. “Quite the opposite.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but his words ring in your ears like a mantra.

“That's quite cryptic,” you say, taking in a deep breath.

“Y’gonna make me spell it out for you?”

“If you mean what I think you do, fuck, either I'm being terribly idiotic right now or...” you trail off, noticing that Remus is closer to you, now.

“Or what?” he breathes, and you close your eyes slowly.

“Or...if you're, um, insinuating what I think you to be, and I get words out correctly enough to respond...” you leave the rest of the sentence unsaid, words trapped in your throat.

“What then?” Remus says ever-so-quietly, and you take in another breath, eyes still pressed closed.

“I'd be making the best decision of my life.”

You can hear the boy’s breath hitch in his throat. You open your eyes to see that he's next to you, now, and the soft light from under the door that illuminates you as the sun lowers is glimmering on his skin, bouncing off the scars in his skin and the gold flecks in his eyes.

“Perhaps... Perhaps it’d be right of you to make that assumption. That I'm saying what you think I am, that is.” He breathes slowly, and your eyes flick to him again.

“This conversation is the most cryptic thing I've ever heard,” you say quietly with a laugh, and Remus nods in agreement.

“We’re getting the point across, though, aren't we?” he jests, and you giggle. Your expression then turns serious, and you turn so that you're facing the boy.

“Could I... Could I take you up on that offer of spelling it out?” you say breathlessly, and Remus smiles gently.

“We could say it on three,” he suggests, and you laugh.

“Merlin, we're like toddlers. Fine, on your count, then,” you reply with a nod, heart a jackhammer in your chest.

“One... Two...” he pauses for a second, and you let out a breath.

He's fully facing you, as well, and you see a glint in his eyes that's so familiar yet so new.

“Fuck this,” he says before the last count, and your eyes widen. “I love you, Y/N. I'm- I'm in love with you.” he admits, shutting his eyes like he's ripping off a particularly menacing bandaid.

You don't respond for a moment, mouth open in shock. But as soon as you snap out of your trance, you notice the boy’s posture; he's nervous, recoiled as if he's worried you wouldn't say it back.

You place a delicate hand on the side of his face, thumbing over his cheek, and he relaxes at your touch, still not opening his eyes.

You softly press your lips to his, and he responds instantaneously, one hand reaching to pull you in by your waist, the other resting on your cheek.

There's a fire exploding inside you, and it’s glorious, golden sparks erupting after being kept inside for so long. Your lips are dancing in a delicate rhythm with his, like they were meant to. He tastes like chocolate and bliss, and his hand wraps in your hair, tongue swiping over your lips gently.

After what feels simultaneously like an eternity and no time at all, you break away for air, resting your forehead against his.

“Now it's my turn to infer from that,” he breathes after a moment, and you smile.

“Not quite as cryptic, you'll find.” You smile, kissing him again. “I love you, Remus Lupin. Always have, always will.”

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fic

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proxylynn · 4 years ago

Text

Underfell: File Name not Edgy Enough #26

Chapter 26: Misery

WARNING: I WANT NO RESPONSIBILITY OVER SPOILING THINGS FOR OTHERS. THAT BEING SAID, THIS IS HOW FILE NAME NOT FOUND WOULD FUNCTION IN THE AU OF UNDERFELL. BEFORE YOU READ THIS, UNLIKE THE NICE TIME OF UNDERTALE, THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED. THIS STORY WILL BE GRAPHIC, GORY, USE SWEARS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, AND DEAL WITH SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTERS. FOR EXAMPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THE FILE NAME RELOCATED SPOOF WILL KNOW HOW I PICTURE THIS VERSION OF LYNSIE COMING TO THE UNDERGROUND. IT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF SOMETHING DUMB. IT IS BECAUSE SHE CHOOSES TO END HER LIFE. SO TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT. I MADE IT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO LET SOME OF THIS EDGINESS OUT OF MYSELF. WHICH I GUESS MAKES UNDERFELL LYNSIE EVEN MORE TRUE TO WHO I REALLY AM. ANYWAY, ENJOY. ^_^

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[HOTLAND: LEVEL 2 MOMENTS BEFORE GOING LIVE]

Mettaton zooms through the air, the speed makes it hard to try to look for anything I can lock-on as a potential landmark. The worst part, I can't tell if Flowey is able to follow or can reach this far safely. Who am I kidding? Flowey has the best odds of making it around here without a scratch. Unlike my dumbass.

"THIS WILL DO."

He lands faster than expected. The shock shacks my insides uncomfortably. I gag trying to keep my stomach from flying out.

"SORRY, DARLING. I'LL ATTEMPT TO BE GENTLER IN THE FUTURE."

He puts me down, my legs buckle like a baby calf's but I manage to stand.

"N-No worries. Just...Just give me a moment."

He chuckles and gets ready to blast off again.

"SO CUTE. NOW LISTEN UP...HOTLAND IS LEVELED OUT IN THREE PARTS. WE WERE ON LEVEL ONE. THIS IS LEVEL TWO. FROM THIS ROOM, MAKE A RIGHT AND CONTINUE ONWARD. YOU'LL NEED TO REACH THE ELEVATOR TO PROCEED. THINK YOU CAN DO THAT?"

I wave at him.

"Go right. Got it. *heavy sigh* Um...Are there more vents?"

He doesn't say anything.

"Metta?"

"TOODLES!"

He blasts off and I roar our swears. Oh well. No point fussing on that. If I'm lucky Flowey will have heard my shouting and come to help me. But this room...The path leading out is glass. The land isn't connected. Flowey would have to dive deeper to find a joining point, most likely it would be too deep and the heat harmful. I need to leave and not look down. I take a step but fumble, grabbing a random signpost to stop the fall.

"Damn it...Is this what jet-lag is?"

The sign's writing makes me curious.

[Art Club: Meet here! Next meeting: October 10th, 8PM]

Huh? Wait...What is the date and time? Argh! I have no sense for time anymore. Toriel has an out-of-date calendar that she refuses to change which doesn't help and the cellphone had the closest thing to a clock yet there's no telling if it was on time.

"Ahhhh!!! I'm late!!! I'm late!!! I'm so sorry!!!"

From seemingly out of nowhere, a doughy butterscotch colored monster in a black fedora and vest comes rushing towards this spot with papers fluttering away from him. He's in such a damn hurry that he trips and ends up crashing, skidding to a stop inches from my feet.

"*grumble* Son of a..."

He picks himself up and quickly grabs what papers he can. He looks odd. I'm getting weird neck-bread vibes off him. It's probably the fedora. Maybe if he took it off and let his brown hair free...What the fuck, am I thinking like a girl? Ewww! Stupid girl thoughts! That's my once per month. No more.

"So stupid! Why am I so clumsy? I hate being such a klutz!"

Poor guy.

"Need some help?"

He flinches. Did...Did he just realize I was here?

"W-Who are you? This is my spot! Get out!"

"Whoa! Chill. No need to be so harsh, kangaroo-boy."

His eyes widen.

"Kangaroo..."

Ah...shit. I know that look by now. My blue soul comes out.

"I'M A BUTTERDRAGON!!"

[WRONG ENEMY !? begins to play in the background.]

...Fuck my life. Wait...What the fuck is a butterdragon?

[You're blocked in angrily!]

"I come here to find something to draw. And what do I find? Some ignorant bitch that wouldn't know a masterpiece if it smacked her in the face!"

Is he referring to himself?

"It's time someone taught you a lesson! Consider it a gift. Let me look in my vest!"

He spins around and swings at me with his tail. It's coated in light blue magic. Fine. I don't move. It turns orange. I jump over it. It turns blue for two more swipes before turns around.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

"Oh! Whoops! That had to hurt! So sorry, I must have..."

He freezes seeing nothing happened to me.

"You...You're fine?"

I shrug. No point opening my mouth. He talks enough for the both of us.

[The enemy looks nervous.]

"Ummm, I...I couldn't find anything I want to give away. *softer* Not that I wanted to give you anything. *normal* Wait, wait! *laugh* I've got my notebook! I can draw you a picture in it! I'm quite the artist, you know. I'll draw you a GREAT picture!!!"

"It's not your turn."

He flinches.

"Oh...Right."

I look at my options.

[FIGHT]

[ACT]

[̴͝SP͜͞E͡L̵͜L͟͠͏]͘͢

[ITEM]

[MERCY]

What even is that button? Eh...I don't need it. Not with this guy.

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[SOMETHING]

What's with all the weird shit? Just be simple damn it.

[CHECK selected.]

[SO SORRY (REAL NAME, SAMAEL "SAM" D. BUTTERDRAGON) – HP: 1100 ATK: 9 DEF: -6 – This creature is definitely in the wrong time and space!]

Time and space...How the hell does he have negative defense?! That's a thing?!

"My turn!"

My thoughts are broken. He turns around to draw in his notebook, attacking once more with his tail. Blue swish. Orange swish. Blue swish. Blue swish. Orange swish. Orange swish.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

Again he doesn't understand how I got away with no damage. Dude, I can't help that you're attack is obviously telegraphed.

[The enemy looks anxious.]

"S...sorry...The drawing didn't come out very well. Wait! I know the problem! I just have to find a better piece of paper for it!"

"I'm not sure that's how drawing works. But you do you."

[MERCY selected.]

[SPARE selected.]

"I don't want your pity."

Was worth a shot considering the way this fight's going.

"I'll settle on a draw-ing if that's better."

I emphasize the pun with a teasing wink. He gets a little frazzled.

"Uh...Don't do that again. Like...ever."

Screw it. I want to have some fun.

"Why? Are you gonna pun-ish me?"

His right eye twitches.

"Stop it."

"I have an ink-ling this is getting to you. But trust me...You paint seen nothing yet."

Getting frustrated he yanks at his hair before turning around and chucking crumpled balls of paper at me from over his shoulders. Finally, something I need to dodge that will take effort. Each toss has three balls and he does this ten times. The dude's wasting perfectly fine paper. Shameful.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

I'm starting to think he's getting bothered by his inability to hurt me.

[The enemy looks perturbed.]

Called it.

"N-None of my papers are good enough to use..."

[SPARE selected.]

"It's not the tools. They don't create. They are but aids. It's the artist. Their skill and heart. That is key. Anyone can draw. It's as easy as breathing. But if you stress out and push too hard, if you forget to enjoy yourself...Then even what you'd call your masterpiece will never be good enough."

He looks at me funny.

"My advice, Mr. Butterdragon...Don't try to make something as others expect it to be made. Create something as you want it to be. Only then will you be happy with it. I would know. I'm a dabbler at doodling and there's something so...interesting...in being able to take a pencil and transfer an image that you only saw in your head to paper. Though I can never seem to get hands just right."

I look at my hands.

"Weird flesh sticks. Why are you so hard to draw?!"

He thinks for a moment. But then...

"THAT'S IT!!! I know what I can do!! I'll use my magic pencil! It has to be under some of these papers somewhere!!!!"

I take it he's still bent on attacking to prove he can draw. He goes back to tossing paper and by this point, I found a spot to just stand in where nothing falls near, so I wait till he's done.

"Here! I got it! My magic pencil is amazing! Everything I draw with it looks..."

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

This fight is so boring. I mean, I'm grateful to not have my ass kicked or beaten within moments of death's door, but...Is he really trying? Froggits try harder than this.

"Why aren't you hurt?!"

I cover my mouth in a yawn.

"Dude, can you let me spare you already? I need to get to level three before Mettaton has a fit."

[SPARE selected.]

He didn't like hearing this.

[The enemy taps his fingers together like jackhammers.]

"I'll show you. I'LL SHOW YOU ALL!! I AM A REAL ARTIST!!"

With pencil in hand, he scribbles into the air and much to my understanding of reality he adds two horned demons doodles to fight on his side.

[DOODLEBOG – HP: 100 ATK: 8 DEF: 999 – Art lets your wildest fantasies come to life!]

"Like I was saying...Anything I draw with this pencil becomes COMPLETELY REAL! But in your case, a little too real!"

I can't help the odd smirk that crawls across my lips.

"Finally..."

I stretch and pop some joints.

"I was starting to fall asleep. Show me what you've been holding back. Let the creativity flow!"

Both Doodlebogs launch eight doodle orbs in circle formations at me. The good news, there's room to move and enough spacing to do some fun maneuvering. The bad news...It's still freaking easy! They shoot this move twice before their turn ends. And still...

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

I'm disappointed. And so is he.

"What...How...?!"

[The enemy is confused.]

I shake my head. Seems that's all he's got. Though, to his credit, those drawings need to go. But how do I do that? Hmmm...Maybe...

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[DRAW]

[SOMETHING]

What's this? Oh...Oh hell yeah.

[DRAW selected.]

"W-Wait...You can't..."

I grab my soul, not sure what else I'm to use, and trace out a large cat that glows like my soul.

"Sketch-kitty, pounce the Doodlebog on the left!"

The cat does as commanded, pouncing at the Doodlebog and they tussle off the side to the heat death below. He panics.

"How dare you use art against me! Don't just stand there, kill her!"

The remaining Doodlebog fires the same attack as before but done three times in rapid secession. I harder move yes, but one that still leaves spots open wiggle on through.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

[The enemy is desperate.]

"H-Hey now...There's no need to do anything crazy. I-I shouldn't have attacked you. That was dumb. W-We good?"

Huh...I don't know if he's being truthful. I try to use MERCY but the button doesn't push in. Something is locking it. I wonder if it's because of the doodle? Is it affecting the battle conditions? To be safe, I'll return things to how they were.

[DRAW selected.]

"You're cheating! You have to be! No one can be this good!"

I roll my eyes while tracing out a massive snake.

"Sketch-snake, put the squeeze to the Doodlebog."

It strikes with the speed of a viper and coils the doodle like a constrictor. The doodle fights back, clawing at the sketch. The sketch knows what its mission is. It throws itself and the doodle over the edge, so now it's only the two of us. He is at a loss what to do.

[The enemy uses a hypnotizing 3D-tush-wiggle attack. Smells... furry.]

I think he's freaked out and out of options. His strongest move, an insane trump card, and I not only countered it but bested it.

[The enemy is apologizing to its visions of the Reaper.]

...What?

"I've messed up. I've really messed up. Oh no. I'm so dead! No...No. I won't let you kill me."

"Dude, I'm clearly not trying to kill you."

"I won't let art die!"

"And you're not listening."

"I'll use this regular pencil! I'll use 100% of best! There is no way you'd kill the maker of such a fine piece!"

He turns around and scribbles furiously. His tail swipes quickly and paper balls fly like crazy. This creates difficulty because trying to dodge the balls is made harder when trying to either stand still for light-blue attacks or move for the orange ones. Orange tail, orange tail, blue tail, blue tail, orange tail, and blue tail. This is how he should've been going at me from the start. It's a good attack.

[HP ███████████████████████████ 27/40]

"Are you ready!? I just finished! Here's your picture!"

He's so proud of it that he doesn't even notice that he finally did damage to me. The picture is a heart.

"What do you think!? It's a representation of your deepest essence... It's great, right!?"

I don't say a word. What did he mean by that? How is a heart my deepest essence? Is it a picture of my soul and souls are the essence of life? How the fuck did he being about so much thought with a heart?! My silence has him become uncomfortable.

"... (They think my art is terrible.) Well! I'll leave you with that thought! Goodbye! See you later! Sayonara! Nice knowing ya! Hasta la vista. ... I should leave."

He attempts to leave but he freezes when I quickly grab his tail.

"Um..."

"That image...You poured your heart into and it shows. It made me think. Art does that. It makes you think and feel. You did that to me. ...10 out of 10."

His eyes widen.

"R-Really?"

I nod and let his tail go...only to get a sappy hug from the butterball.

"Thank you!"

I made his day. He was trying to kill me and is now hugging me over a compliment. I think this is over.

[MERCY selected.]

[SPARE selected.]

[YOU WON!]

[You earned 0 XP and 318 gold.]

Holy shit! I'm rich!

The battle music fades out as he lets me go. My soul returns to me.

"Did you...Did you really like it?"

I nod.

"You gave it your all. That makes it special. Keep that spirit and don't be afraid to try other styles. You'll be amazed at what you can do if you try."

"Like your animals?"

"Animals have always been easy for me. It's people that are my weak-link. Um...Can I see that pencil for a sec?"

He hands me his notebook and normal pencil, to which I make two different drawings. One, a traditional European dragon spouting flame. This is my specialty, I can make these almost with my eyes closed. But the second one is my try at an anime version of myself. I use the eraser a lot on the face, hands, and chest. It never looks right to me once I'm okay with another part of the body. Yet I know I can't spend ages on this so I hand it over when I believe it looks okay.

"See what I mean now?"

"What are you talking about? These are great."

"Exactly..."

He's confused.

"Even when it's good, I still think I suck. But it's that negativity that spurs me to try harder. One day, I shall get those parts down and be happy with it without erasing whole bits out of frustration or doubt in ability. So...yeah...Keep those. Let them help you. Inspire you to be better in spite of others and yourself. Refuse to give up. And never surrender."

He gives me a funny look and I rub the back of my head with a nervous laugh.

"Heh...I have no idea where I was going with that. I tend to ramble when trying to be positive."

A small smile comes to him as he takes a few steps past me.

"I think I get what you're saying. If it's all the same to you...I think I want to be alone with my thoughts for a bit. Might see what ideas come."

I smirk.

"Take care, buddy. May the Muses inspire you to greatness."

I leave the butterdragon to his thoughts and not look down at the glass path that must be crossed. Yet it's doing so that alarms my brain. The land is not solid rock. The land is being supported by thick metal pipes and trussed beams that don't look like they're meant to be used here. I'm conflicted, I feel safe and unease at the same time. It also doesn't help I don't have Flowey with me. I need him. I don't like proceeding without my bro. So...

"Flowey! Bro, I'm up over here! Hurry up!"

Not expecting a response, least of all right away, I aim to head out slowly in hopes that he'll catch up to me before I really need him. But the path actually branches like a 4-way intersection and I get confused. Left is probably back to level one but what's the forward path? I shrug and check it out. Not like I have a killer robot to appease because I'm on TV. Thankfully, it's an empty spot of land. Scratch that. An empty spot of land with some trash on it.

[There's an apron lying on the ground.]

Really? That scrap's an apron?

I inspect the ragged thing and find it's in better shape than it looks.

[Will you take it or leave it?]

This option leads me to believe it's a human item. Probably pairs with this frying pan. Yes, I want it.

[You got the Splattered Apron.]

...Do I wanna equip it? Ugh...I tie the apron around my waist but backwards so it covers my ass.

[You equipped the Splattered Apron.]

[You gain 11 Defense.]

[Are the splotches from food, an enemy, or the former wearer? You don't want to know. Heals 1 HP every other turn.]

Wait...Did it say...?!

[HP: 40 ATK: 45 DEF: 38]

Holy shit! Score!

"So...Does that only work in fights?"

[HP ████████████████████████████ 28/40]

Huh. Guess not. Yet it said every other turn so who knows what that counts as.

I leave to continue all while paying half-attention to my HP. 1 point healing is better than nothing, though it's gonna be a while before I'm healed completely.

It's warm on this level. Still hot but not as bad as level one. Digital cords pulsate with energy from deep down to high above me. And in the distance...a massive mechanical structure. It sits in the lava like a slumbering leviathan. Imposing, mysterious, and giving off the vibes of "STAY THE FUCK AWAY". I better not have to go there.

After a short stroll, I come upon an obstacle or, as monsters put it, a puzzle. There are two conveyor belts, one going forward and the other back towards me. The forward one has three of those thick metal pipes near it and each pipe has a switch. At the end, there's what looks to be a Tesla Coil set up to prevent safe passing. Putting the bits together is easy. I step on the belt and keep walking, flipping the switches as I go. The third flip turns the current off and I can progress.

I regret this.

Literally forty feet away I'm met by those fucking vents. However...beside the vents is a large conveyor belt made of three merged ones. That's moving at the same speed as the one I was just on. Idea time. I dash jump across the belts. Leaping just in case someone somewhere decides to mess with the speed. Lucky me, no dick moves were made and I avoided doing my scarier backup plan of climbing on the support trusses. At least the path is clear now, which is good.

The heat begins to climb as I approach pumping stacks of hot gas. It makes the air thick and hard to breathe. The sooner I get past these things the better. Part of me questions why I don't hoof it on a crawl and then I have to remind that part that the land is inclining upward so it's bloody pointless. My throat is drying out, my lungs burn, and my eyes sting even with the tears trying to soothe the pain. Even the sounds of gears grinding in the background is starting to irritate my senses. But all this just makes me strive forward more to get back to some form of normalcy. Augh...What's my HP at now?

[HP ████████████████████████████████ 32/40]

Not bad. Not bad at all.

"Keep moving, slowpoke."

My blurry eyes spy a white speck among all the orange-brown.

"Bro?"

Something wraps around my wrist and pulls me slowly, leading me like a child helps an elder cross the road. Soon the air is clear and wiping my eyes lets me see Flowey. A very welcoming sight indeed.

"Bro!"

"Good to see you too."

"How did you get up here? The land is broken."

"Not all of it. I pretty much climbed up one high point, crossed over to another, and repeat till I got here. Did you forget how nimble I can be?"

I smack my forehead making him snicker.

"Sometimes it scares me to think how you've managed to not die."

He gets a chuckle out of me.

"Same."

We move on...only to be blocked by two heavily armored guards. One is a rabbit or hare and the other is more of a dragon than butterball was. Adorning fierce, brutal, and intimidating black armor bearing the blood-red Deltarune insignia. On their helms, shoulders, and wrists are jagged threatening spikes. But the real danger that has my attention are the very large swords.

"Are you shitting me?"

"They...aren't supposed to be here."

I look at Flowey funny and he flinches.

"I mean...They don't usually..."

"*mumble* Timeline bullshit. *normal* Fuck it...Yo! Can you two move? We need to reach level three...please?"

I'm sure that saved it from all my attitude.

"Human..."

Nothing good has ever happened to me when someone says "human".

"You're late."

Oh. Well, that's different.

"For...?"

They point their swords at me.

"Your funeral."

"Really? Was that the best you could come up with?"

The rabbit shrugs.

"I thought it was pretty tough."

The dragon punches his arm.

"I told you it was weak."

"It's not like we had a lot of time to come up with something better."

"Right. All the direction Mettaton gave us was 'stall her' while he does stupid crap."

"Let's just get this over with before the Captain finds out."

They rush towards me...then stop. But not a normal stop. They're frozen in place. I look at Flowey, he's stuck in mid-sink into the ground. The hell is going on? It's as if...as if time stopped?

"Sans? Sans, is this you? Where are you?"

White noise, like static on a TV. It pierces my ears as if it were stabbing my very brain. Covering my ears does nothing to stop it. I drop to my knees.

"Sa҉ns͏..̕."

A voice barely solidifies in the sounds assaulting my hearing.

"H͞è's n̢ot he̡r͠e,͟ l͡i̡ttl͡e ͜on̴ę.̨ He ͞can'͏t ̸in̵tęr͜f̛ere҉ w̧i̧th o͝úr̨ f́u͟ņ."

I muster the strength to turn my head and am confronted by a grayed-out monster with a blacked-out face holding a smaller face in its hand. The face looks at me with a small creepy smile. My eyes widen. The face spoke. And it speaks in rhyme. What the fuck?!

"What the hell are you?"

"M̛e? I̕'҉m͠ ͡a ̨f̡o͢l͜l͘ow̵er ̡of̶ ͘the g͠rea͝t Royal͏ ͟Sc͞ien͘t͝i͝st͟,̢ D͜ơc̢tor̕ ̵W̛.D. ̵Gast̀e͞r̀.͘ On̵e day͞,̨ h́e ͝va͝n͞i͡sh̀e͜d͘ w̷itḩou̕t̡ a҉ t́r̶ąc̛e.͝ T̛hey͞ ͠s̡a̢y҉ ̷he ҉s̡hat̕te̶r̷ed ͝ac̛ross̡ ti҉m͠e̴ an͘d̢ ҉s̨pac͘e. Ha H̷a͞.͝..̡ho͠w ̧c̸án I͞ s͠ay̢ s̸o͏ wit͟ho̴u͘t ͘f̶e͟a̸r͘?͝ ̸I'm h̸o͜l͘ding͞ a ̴p̵ie͘ce҉ ͜of̡ h͡im ̶r̶iģht͢ ͢her͞e."

This...This shit right here triggers something primal in me...I get genuinely freaked out. Fleeing like a puppy that just met the big noisy vacuum for the first time. And yeah, this was an overreaction. I've dealt with some insane shit at this point, you'd think I'd be hardened like a soulless speck of dirt. But no. That made me too unsettled and any tough wall I had crumbled. I zoom past the few other frozen in time monsters along the way till I reach the elevator. I spam hit the button, praying it will ignore the fact time is dead and let me in something that I can pretend is safer than out here.

*BING*

A sound other than static? There is a god!

The doors shift open and a grayed-out bird monster with terrible posture along with a grayed-out small humanoid monster stop me in my tracks.

There is no god!

"D͏r.̡ G̴as͝t̶e͠ŕ..͝.͡H̛i͞s brìllia͢n͝cé w͡a҉s̸ ͞irr̷e̶p͞l͞ac͢eabl̨e̶.̷"

"҉W͢hat͏ a̡n ̢áct to ̴foll̕o҉w͟! T́h͘e̷y ̨s͠ay̨ ͏h̶ę c͢r̨eat̛e̴ḑ t͜h͜e͜ ͞C̕O͜R̷E̶."

"Hoẁe͘v͢e̕r, h͜i͏s ͞life҉..͝.̸was ͠c͡u͡t s͘hort."

They say ominously together.

"O͡ne̕ ͟d́a͢y̕,͝ h̵i͟ś ҉ex̵pęri͜m̨e̵ntś w̧ent̡ ̸wr̢on͜g̢, ͡an̡ḑ..̀."

"He̴ fe̸l̢l̡ ̕i͞n̴t͜o ̀hi̵s͡ cr̷eat̀i͢ón̢."

"Węll,̴ ͝w̡e҉ needn̨'͡t͠ gos̕s̕i҉p.̧ A̷f͢t͠e͟r al̵l͏,̷ ҉i̸t'ş ̧rude to ̀tal͡k̨ ab͏o̢u͠t̛ s҉o̵me̢o͘n҉è w̛h͢o̕'s l̷i̕s͢te̡n͢ing.̸"

They grab me and pull me in before my body chooses to run.

"*snarls* Let go you creeps!"

"D̵o̵n't ̕st͠r̴ưg̷gle̵,̧ l͡i͞t̕t̛l҉e o͟n͡e.́"

"̸Yo̷u ͝d͞o͠n͏'t̴ w͡an̸t ̴harm to co͢me̛ to̷ ̡t̀h̢e̵ flo͜wer͞.̡"

Oh fuck...I left Flowey with the creepy face-hand thing. I cease my fighting.

"G҉o͡od͞ ̷ģir̡l."

The doors shut with a quickness.

[SNOWDIN: Skeleton House in present time]

They watch as the human and flower are confronted by the two Royal Guards. And of course, they do as they've been trained. Attack the human. But something weird happens. The guards begin to attack and the screen of the TV glitches into static before the picture returns. Only now the guards have stopped their action and the flower, which was retreating from danger, pops back out in confusion along with everyone else. The human is gone. It happened within the blink of an eye. One second she was there and the next she's not. And now the screen cuts to a "We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties" image. What is going on?

[HOTLAND: LAB]

Undyne and Alphys are equally as perplexed as everyone else that's tuned in.

"Alphys, where did the human go?"

Undyne irritatedly asks through her teeth. On her end, Alphys is switching through camera feeds like crazy.

"I'm looking! I'm looking!"

The screen swaps from camera to camera and multiple different angles. But there's nothing. Sure, there are monsters. Some just going about their lives. Some slacking around. Even an embarrassing shot of a Pyrope shoving a sandwich into the top of a Vulkin. But no sign of the human on level two.

"Where are you, damn it?!"

"Stop!"

Undyne's shout makes Alphys jump.

"Go back five clicks."

And so she does. The feed is an odd far shot from the gas stacks. It can just barely view the guards let alone the flower who suddenly ducks away. The guards seem even more confused.

"What are we looking for?"

Undyne points at the screen and Alphys sighs.

"If I can't see it on my end, you pointing from a distance does nothing for me!"

Undyne growls.

"Look up, genius!"

Alphys leers at the fish-woman before leering at the view she has on her monitor. Due to the far away placement of the camera, it can see up to the platform of level three. And there, dangling over the side, is a pale white arm that stands out over the red platform and gold LED lights scheme.

"The hell...?"

She switches to the level three cameras.

"Ha! I knew I saw something."

With the better view, they now see the human face-down just a few feet from the elevator.

"How the hell did she get up there?"

Alphys gets out her phone and sends a quick text. When there's no reply she presses a button and a moment later is sent a reply. A few messages are sent as Mettaton zooms on screen.

"What? Why's the tin can there now?"

Undyne is out of the loop as usual.

"Who else do you know can zip over there as fast?"

Mettaton pulls the human to the center of the path, away from a stupid falling to death, and checks over her seemingly lifeless body. Her eyes are open and empty as if someone replaced her peepers with billiards cue balls that glow. Marks on her arms look like bruising but weren't there before nor gained in her earlier fight. Then...Alphys gets a text.

"Hmmm..."

"What's up?"

"Vital signs are still going but her breathing has stopped."

She texts back to Mettaton.

"So...She's dead?"

"No. Not yet at least. According to Mettaton, her HP is full and not depleting. However, if she doesn't start breathing, her HP should drain and she will die."

"Then wha...?"

"Look at the TV, dear."

Undyne looks back at the screen to see Mettaton performing chest compressions in patterns.

"With her heart still pumping it means all other functions are still working. It's likely something happened in whatever event that caused her to get up there to give her trauma. The trauma probably made her brain fail to send the right signals to her lungs and thus, she's in respiratory arrest. So I've instructed Mettaton to force her body to restart her breathing manually with basic CPR."

They watch the robot press into her chest for a good couple of minutes before the human suddenly bolts up violently. Mettaton restrains the hysterical woman as the life returns to her eyes, sight restored settles her down some but she appears terribly shaken.

"Ask him if he can get her to tell him what happened."

"Already sent and awaiting reply."

Mettaton appears to speak with her but she either says very little or nothing at all. She merely holds her self in an attempt to cease her trembling and looks out at what bit of the CORE is still visible from that point.

"Huh...He says she isn't telling. At most, she said it's nothing and it just happens sometimes."

"Super vague and avoiding the subject? That kind of shit ain't normal."

Alphys agrees but it's not like they have the human in custody to interrogate for answers. She sends the text.

"The hell?"

Mettaton offers some concern and encouragement before blasting off, leaving the human alone.

"Why's he leaving her?!"

"He did what was needed. Now the show can continue as planned."

Undyne glares.

"That's twice now. You could've let her die."

"I still need more data. Something odd happened and I need to figure it out."

Undyne huffs softly.

"Fine. You know...You can only string someone along for so long before that string breaks, Alphys."

The lizard-woman chuckles.

"Worried about the human? That's cute."

"I wasn't talking about the human."

Undyne guzzles her remaining ramen and Alphys isn't sure how to respond.

"For your sake, the human better be worth all this effort."

She lifts her bowl.

"More."

[HOTLAND: LEVEL 3 BEFORE GOING LIVE]

Static. Everything is static. Static is all I see and hear. I can't feel anything. Am I dead? Is this what death is? If it is...It's incredibly boring. At least Hell would have a wicked soundtrack to drone out to while being tortured. Suddenly, I feel something. And it hurts. Like something is bouncing on my chest and pauses a bit before doing it again for longer.

Please...Leave me alone...Let me be...I don't want to go back...Don't make me go back...Please...

"*gasps and coughs*"

My lungs burn in this reawakening but my sight is still static. Purgatory. Pain before Heaven. The sins must be suffered away. This must be what's happening. Hands. I feel hands and panic, stress levels at critical. I take a swing at where I think they are.

"D̕͡oņ͟'̕͝t ̨̀͝to͝͏uch̷́͝ ͘me͘͜!̴̵͝"

There's hesitation before more force is used and I'm pinned to what I assume is a floor. I thrash harshly.

"L̸̀e͢a̡͜v̴͟͢e ͘m̵e͞ ͝al҉̀o̷̴n̴̨e̶̢!̡͞ ̡͡Ḑ͞o͝n̶͝'̨̕t ̢͏̡I ͜s̸̛u͜͜f̵͝f̷͠͝er̛ ̧e͏͜n̢o̵u҉͢͢g̶͡͡ḩ?!͏"

"CALM...I...LYNSIE."

A voice? A normal voice?

"DON'T...ME...RELAX."

The struggling I was doing ends. And as I settle down the static that had blinded me subsides. My location is unknown. But I know the one holding me down.

"M-Metta?"

Seeing I'm normal, Mettaton helps me get back on my feet yet I'm unsettled by...things.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT, DARLING? WHAT HAPPENED?"

Flashes of memory flicker in my head. Those...things...Followers of Gaster...The things they did...

I hold myself and fight the tears trying to come to my eyes. I don't say a thing.

"LYNSIE...HOW DID YOU GET UP HERE? WHY DID I FIND YOU NOT BREATHING?"

I rub my eyes.

"I need my phone. *shaky inhale* I gotta talk to my mom."

"YOU KNOW I DON'T HAVE IT. AND IF I DID, I'M STILL UNSURE YOU WOULDN'T CALL OUT TO YOUR FRIENDS."

He's not wrong. I wasn't going to call Toriel. I was going to give Sans nightmares with the shit done to me.

"NOW COME ON. YOU CAN TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG."

"...N-Nothing's wrong. This...This just happens sometimes."

He's not buying it. I'm doing a piss poor attempt to play off that I'm fine.

"DARLING, YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY NOT FINE AND ABOUT TO CRY. JUST TALK TO ME. WHAT HAPPENED? YOU VANISHED FROM SIGHT AND ENDED UP HERE AT THE START OF LEVEL THREE COMPLETELY UNCONSCIOUS."

I don't say a word.

"DID SOMEONE USE MAGIC ON YOU? IS YOUR SOUL OKAY?"

I flinch at the mentioning of my soul and refuse any further interaction.

"LYNSIE...?"

I refuse to look at him. He sighs.

"IF IT MEANS ANYTHING, DUE TO TIME CRUNCHING, THE THIRD ACT WAS CANCELED. BETWEEN YOUR STALLING FROM HEIGHTS, ALL THESE RANDOM FIGHT ENCOUNTERS, AND EVENTS OF THE FIRST AND SECOND ACT...CHANGES IN THE PROGRAM HAVE BEEN MADE. HEH...ORIGINALLY, THE THIRD ACT WAS GOING TO HAVE YOU DEFUSE A SERIES OF BOMBS PLACED AROUND THE AREA WITHIN A TIME LIMIT. YET EVEN I THOUGHT THAT WAS UNFAIR. THAT AND THE SCRIPT FOR IT WAS JUST AWFUL. NO WAY AM I DISGRACING MYSELF WITH SUCH A POORLY DIRECTED SHOW."

I guess that is some good news. It's probably why he had those guards posted there to stall me.

"BUT...I DO HAVE SOME BAD NEWS."

This gets me to look at him.

"FROM HERE, IN THE NEXT ROOM YOU WILL FIND A SEEMINGLY CHARMING SPIDER NAMED MUFFET. SHE'S A CUNT."

Well, that escalated quickly.

"SHE'S THE LEADER OF THE SPIDERS IN THE UNDERGROUND AND RUNS A SUPPOSED BAKERY. IT'S A FRONT. SHE'S AN EXTORSHINISH. SHE'LL SAY AND DO ANYTHING IF IT MEANS SHE'LL GET GOLD. CLAIMS THE MONEY IS NEEDED TO SAVE THE SPIDERS IN THE RUINS OR SOMETHING STUPID LIKE THAT."

"It sounds like you don't like her very much."

"NO, NOT REALLY. I COULD CARE LESS WHAT SHE DOES. THE THING THAT PISSES ME OFF IS THAT SHE PREYS ON MY WORKERS, KILLS THE ONES THAT CAN'T PAY HER OUTRAGEOUS FEES, AND, WORST OF ALL, SHE REFUSED TO DEAL WITH ME!"

I tilt my head.

"I HAVE TRIED TIME AND TIME AGAIN TO GET HER TO SELL FOOD UNDER MY BRAND. BUT SHE SAYS MY NAME WOULD ACTUALLY MAKE HER LOSE GOLD. SERIOUSLY? THE AUDACITY OF THAT BITCH. I PRACTICALLY OWN HOTLAND AND SHE HAS THE NERVE TO UTTER SUCH SHIT!"

His screen flashes for a moment before he calms down.

"YET DESPITE THAT...KNOWING YOU AND HOW YOU HANDLE DIFFICULT MONSTERS, I'M CONFIDENT YOU CAN GET BY HER WITH LITTLE ISSUE."

"...You have that much faith in me?"

He spins on his wheel.

"WOULD YOU TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED IF I SAY I DO?"

My dower expression answers him for me.

"WELL, IT WAS WORTH A TRY."

His wheel retracts to fly.

"WE WILL MEET AGAIN FOR THE FOURTH ACT...PROVIDED YOU SURVIVE THE SPIDERS. YOU'RE NOT AFRAID OF SPIDERS, ARE YOU?"

"I was when I was a kid. I got over it."

"GOOD. YOU SHOULD BE FINE THEN."

He comes over and, to my surprise, gives me a small embrace.

"I BELIEVE IN YOU, LYNSIE."

My throat tightens, I couldn't speak even if I wanted to. He takes off and I wait for when he's out of sight to breakdown.

[SNOWDIN: Skeleton House in present time]

The "We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties" screen cuts away. The human has been located. She appears to be on a different level and is a wreck. Down on her hands and knees, sobbing intangible pleas. Something has happened and it wasn't good.

Toriel gasps softly.

"tori? what's wrong?"

She covers her mouth and points. Sans sees it now. Papyrus even spies it before Grillby. The hands. The harsh imprints darkening the snow colored skin.

"Those marks...They would sometimes appear in her sleep. Why are they there now?"

Grillby shoots a look at Sans and he decides to get his buddy off his back.

"she had those marks while with us too. but if you look closely, these marks are different. there's no hole in the palm. plus...there are two sets."

"HMMM...AN AMBUSH PERHAPS? BUT WHAT KIND OF MAGIC CAN ALLOW FOR SUCH A SNEAK ATTACK AND THEN VANISH ELSEWHERE?"

Grillby continues to leer at Sans.

"what?"

"Sounds like teleporting to me. Anyone you know can do that?"

Sans glares.

"no. only i can teleport."

"Are you sure?"

"yeah. i'm sure. knock it off."

Papyrus cocks his brow. This might require his attention if things escalate.

"I'll knock it off when you come clean."

"i ain't hiding shit."

"Bullshit. You've been holding back so much that even your brother doesn't know just how much you do. If you don't know, then you don't know, but if one thing we've figured about you tonight...It's that you hide what you know all the damn time. So you've got to give us something better if you want us to believe you."

Sans balls his fist.

"us? or you? don't start connecting dots to points that don't exist because you want answers that no one can give to make yourself feel better."

"Then tell me who it was that hurt her before. Maybe they know who did it this time."

That line. That line got heads to turn.

"Sans? You know who has been harming my child?"

It's times like these Sans wished he was able to RESET.

"no, i don't."

"That's not what you told me."

"i only said what i did to get you off my back. ya were all upset about the marks and..."

"Of course I was upset about the marks! What guy wouldn't?!"

Papyrus snarkily lifts a finger, admitting his lack of concern but not wanting to get involved in this.

"maybe instead of pointing fingers, you should question why she didn't tell ya about'em herself. because if she doesn't even tell her mom about shit like this, what makes ya think she tells me?"

Grillby had to pause at that.

"Is it that one of them hurt you?"

"What?"

"You're ignoring them, but that doesn't make them invisible to anyone else. Did they do this? Papyrus I can believe, but I have doubts on Sans. But if they did this to you..."

"They didn't. This is a whole different issue."

"Don't defend your abuser."

"I'm not defending shit. It's my problem, I can deal with it. Don't make this a big deal."

"It is a big deal!"

"*wince* You're hurting me."

"..."

"Like I said...That's a different issue that I will deal with. Not you. Are we clear?"

"Y-Yes."

Maybe Sans had a point. Knowing how others would react keeps one from talking about such things, especially when it's not a reaction that is easily dealt with. Toriel and Grillby have proven to overreact when it comes to the human. She probably thought it best to keep such pain to herself to avoid added damage. But still...Something didn't sit right with Grillby. Sans knew something. What it was he knew not.

"IF YOU'RE DONE WITH YOUR POINTLESS BICKERING, THE HUMAN IS ON THE MOVE NOW."

Attention once more fell back to the television.

[HOTLAND: LEVEL 3]

My body aches. The crying did little to ease me. Sure I vented, that's always good. But I don't feel any better for doing so. My arms stings. My soul throbs in agony. My every nerve demands relief that will never seem to come. I look at the bruises. I can still feel their hold. I don't know how long it happened for or how long after till I was found, yet I can still feel their filthy hands. It's too much. Make it stop!

I take my gloves off and dig my nails across the full stretch of my arms. I don't care about bleeding. I just want to stop feeling their hands. The strange energy begins to crackle around me as it did once before.

[HP ████████████████████ 20/40]

It...It finally went away. That's good. Now if only the memory could be removed. Can't claw my brain unfortunately. Oh well. Perhaps I'll find something to bash my head against. Won't that be fun?

I take my leave. Flesh under my now gloved nails and blood trickling down my arms, making a trail behind me.

A few short steps have me in a more inhabited spot. The monsters here give me strange looks. Maybe it's because of the self-mutilation. Or maybe it was spine chilling wailing. Or both. Or random other shit. Either way, I keep to myself and press onward.

"Oh, yoohoo, human~..."

Ah, fuck my life with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole!

"You look like you can use some healing items. Come, I don't bite...well...maybe ONE little nibble~."

...Why do I attract the kinky weirdos?!

This is the spider-lady Mettaton was talking about. She has periwinkle or lavender skin, five eyes, six arms, and two legs. She wears red rompers with yellow buttons in the front, a red ribbon across her chest, as well as large wild twin pigtails in her black hair tied by red bows. She is also holding two teacups with her top pair of hands and two teapots with her middle pair, her bottom pair of hands hide under her little table.

"Welcome to our parlor, dearie~. Interested in some spider pastries? All proceeds go to real spiders~. Check out the webs to make a purchase~."

I'm so not in the mood for this.

"Ms. Spider..."

"No need for formalities, dearie~. Call me Muffet."

"Muffet...I'm gonna be nice yet blunt. So I apologize in advance if I tick you off at any point because that's not my intent. *shaky inhale* I have been battered, beaten, abducted, blasted, and brought near death more than usual today. And normally, I'd roll with it and let you do this 'thing' it is you're gonna do...But not now."

She opens her mouth to speak and I slam my hands on the tabletop.

"I have just spent an ungodly amount of time trapped in that elevator over there having my soul violated by people that don't even exist anymore on this plane of reality. I have clawed my skin off to stop feeling their hands on me. So, please...Not now."

I can feel that energy get stronger. The odd display bugs her yet she continues.

"My, how dreadful. That's a terrible tale you tell, human. And such a silly one to explain your disappearing act."

My eye twitches. Does she...Does she think I made that up?

"That Mettaton is certainly putting more effort into his effects for this show. It's about time too. That metal moron can't act to save his batteries."

I want to hit her.

"Anyway...Can I interest you in some of my 100% all-natural treats? Food made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders!"

...Wait a second?

"Of spiders? So...You're killing your own kind...for pastries?"

She simply smiles innocently.

"...Are they at least dead or dying ones?"

Her giggle is not reassuring.

"Go on, dearie~. Have a nice donut and wash it down with some cider. You'll heal faster than ever before. And all for the low low price of 9999G...each."

My nerves are shot. Were they always called donuts and not doughnuts? What the fuck?!

"Lady, that is the biggest crock of shit I have ever had the misfortune to step in."

All of her eyes glare at me.

"Beg your pardon?"

"This same 'bake sale' is being done by the spiders in the Ruins. Do you wanna know what the prices are there? Donuts are 7G and Ciders are 18G. Where the hell do you get off charging that much for food that works on cannibalism?"

I point at her in judgment.

"You're sick, lady! This is fucked up."

She hisses at me.

"Seems humans are awfully stingy with money. Don't know a good deal when it's in their face."

I look at her cockeyed.

"Stingy with money? Bitch, did you not hear the words coming out of my mouth?!"

She laughs in my face.

"Ahuhuhuhu...You think your taste is too refined for our pastries, don't you, deary?"

"...Sure. Whatever. You're not listening anyway."

"Ahuhuhu...I disagree with that notion. I think your taste...Is exactly what this next batch needs!"

She stares at me creepily and licks her lips.

"Oh hell nah!"

I flip the table on her and run. She's not happy.

"Get back here!"

"Fuck you!"

I look back to see if she's following and crash into a guy.

"Hey, watch where you're going."

"Sorry. I was just..."

My blood runs cold seeing the monster I've bumped. This guy...This guy is a dead ringer for the creepy gray dude with the face in his hand. The only difference being he's in color.

"*scoff* Weirdo."

He walks to where Muffet is but I can't move. My heart begins pounding. Flashes of memory play before my eyes. I can't breathe fast enough. Gaster, for all the shit he does, isn't as bad as the Followers.

MAKE IT STOP! M̴A͝KÉ IT͜ S͢T͡O͜P!!͘ MA̡̛͜K̶͢E͝ ̢I̡͝T̡҉̧ ́͠S̷͡T͝OP̵!!̛͏! M̢̡A̸̧̛͞͝K̢̨҉É̶̡̢͏ ͜͝͡I̸̧̨̕T̴ ̶̕͞S͜͢T̵͡Ǫ͝҉҉҉P̨̛͞!̶!̕͘͟!̷̨͟͝͡!̕͟

[WARNING]

[SOUL destabilization detected]

[HEARTBREAK immanent]

W͏ai̕t̸.̀.̢.̸Wha̧t doe̴s̛ t̨ha͝t ̨meàn̶?͡

[HEARTBREAK is the condition in which the SOUL will damage itself due to instability or loss of HOPE]

[There are three levels of the HEARTBREAK condition]

[Level ONE: the SOUL forms a crack, it starts small which can be healed easily]

[Level TWO: the crack on the SOUL spreads, damage taken is increased and needs intensive care to be repaired]

[Level THREE: the SOUL shatters and death accrues]

...Serious?

[Current status: PENDING HEARTBREAK]

[PENDING HEARTBREAK: the SOUL weakens and its color dulls]

[Most MONSTERS in the UNDERGROUND have this state due to a loss of HOPE which is the main trait in MONSTER SOULS]

So...I can die from my soul hurting itself because of my inability to cope with the shit that happened?

[Correct]

...Fuck. Well...I should make a last will. Because I'm gonna die.

*STATIC* DARLING? ARE YOU OKAY? YOU NEED TO KEEP MOVING.

Mettaton's voice in my ear causes the shackles of trauma to release me...for now.

I slap myself. Gotta focus. Do this and get to go home. Concentrate. Don't fuck up! The energy around me slowly dissipates.

"Human!"

Looking back I see Muffet coming at me.

"Someone's stealing from the register!"

Her concern for money outweighs her need to kill me and I use this to escape. Much to my annoyance, this part of the path ends with more of those damn vents and they of course split off into three ways, one being a big as hell closed door.

"...I fucking hate Hotland."

I sigh. Taking in the vent platforms and noting that the gap between them is the smallest size ever. No need to run, jump, or use them. I merely walk onto the next platform and can do so for all of them. I choose to take the right side first. Why not? Not like it makes a difference. It leads me to a conveyor belt that has three blue lasers. I ride it to the end without harm. I guess Metta's budget for puzzles is running low if this is what I have to deal with. This leads me to a familiar room with, what a surprise, the same shooting puzzle from the last time I had to unlock a big fucking door.

"Now this is just lazy."

I look for the instructions.

(Shoot the opposing ship!)

(You have just one shot.)

Well...Maybe that's something.

This puzzle has the blocks in a four by five state. Eleven blocks are solid and four can be moved around. The four moving blocks move all at once like they're connected. The open spaces are pretty fair if I have to give it some credit. I move to the right, up, right, down twice, right twice, down, left, down, and finally end it by firing through the clear path.

(CONGRATULATIONS!)

"Don't tell me it's the same on the other side."

I head out and take the other conveyor belt back to the vents, passing a random cactus in the process. I swear if this shit keeps up I'm going to lose my mind. No! No...I need to calm down and relax. I don't need the stress. My soul is in rough shape as is. Now it's at risk of damage without my conscious input. I wish I had my music. That would really help. Maybe a little Green Day or Linkin Park. Oh! My Chemical Romance!

*BONK*

It would seem I didn't pay attention and walked into the puzzle room, kicking the machine by accident.

(Shoot the opposing ship!)

(You have just one shot.)

"God dingle damn it bull honkery."

I hate copy & paste design. The board is larger, five by five. Ten solid blocks and six movable ones, everything else is empty space. Right, up, right, down twice, right, right/up, up/right, up twice, right, up, and fire.

(CONGRATULATIONS!)

"...I'm so sick of this crap it ain't even funny."

I shove my hands in my pockets and leave...only to see two diamond-headed monsters just hanging out, one light-purple and the other a super light-green. Did I really walk by them?

"I've been thinking about getting a sick skateboard."

"Really? That's cool I guess. ...So...What's your fave Mettaton Moment(TM)?"

"My fave Mettaton Moment(TM)? Right when everything looks the baddest, he poses dramatically. Like when he's on a cooking show and the eggs don't turn out right. But! Then he says...Even if you suck at cooking, you can always buy an MTT-brand Glamburger! Then he eats one! Everyone loves it!"

"...How does he eat it without a mouth?"

"Uhhh...well...Watch the show!"

"Well, my fave Mettaton Moment(TM) is when he beats up the heel-turning villains! Even if it's during what's supposed to be a quiz show. Oh! And I like when he tries on all kinds of different fashionable outfits! Even if it's during what's supposed to be a newscast."

I wonder if I can get a chuckle out of these two.

"Sounds like you two really know your stuff about Mettaton."

They turn to look at me, they look like teenagers based on their clothes.

"Totally."

"No one's a bigger fan than us."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! He's currently broadcasting live. And with a Human! We can finally get to the surface!"

"On the surface, we'll be able to watch all kinds of TV...But, I bet none of those shows are as good as Mettaton's!"

"You don't say. Then...Could you describe this human? I don't want to miss seeing it."

The green one goes for his phone.

"Let me see if it's back on and we'll show you. Some crazy stuff happened and the feed cut off a bit ago."

I smile and wait for it. I can't read their faces, but it's very clear when the green one goes to his buddy and shows him the screen. Looks are shot at me. I merely give a friendly wave.

"Dude..."

"We're on TV!"

At least someone's happy about it.

"Wait...Then that means..."

"You're the human?"

I shrug.

"What...What happened to you?"

"You're like all messed up and junk."

I shrug again.

"You know...Messed up crud. Being human ain't all that and or fun. But don't worry about it. Just enjoy the show. Metta's doing his best to make it epic as hell."

I walk past them.

"Oh! Before I go...Don't copy any of the stuff aired at home. You'd probably get in trouble if you blast people for getting trivia wrong or use chainsaws while cooking."

I give a thumbs-up as I go. Vaguely hoping to look badass. With the door open it shouldn't be long till all this nonsense is over and I can go home. I wonder though...Can Flowey get up here? The floor is artificial, so I don't know if he can traverse it. I hope he's okay. Poor fella's probably losing his mind wondering where I went. Then again, he's a clever cookie and knows his way around the Underground better than anyone.

[The smell of cobwebs fills the air...]

Huh?

*sniff*

"What smells like freshly baked tarantulas?"

...Oh shit.

The room past the door is littered with webbing and spiders are dangling from the ceiling.

"...Fuck my life."

Smelling a trap I attempt to get through this room as fast as I can. But the webbing on the floor accumulates on my shoes and eventually, I'm unable to take a step. Struggling only made things worse.

"Ahuhuhuhu..."

Damn it! Damn it all to hell!!

"Did you hear what they just said? They said a human in tacky clothes will come through."

"Well, fuck you too."

"I heard that they hate spiders."

"What?!"

"I heard that they love to stomp on them."

"That is a bald-faced lie!"

"I heard that they like to tear their legs off."

"Slander! The levels of bullshit in here are off the charts!"

"I heard..."

Muffet comes down like a Charlotte's Web reject onto a large web. Smaller spiders dangle beside her and block the path ahead as well as behind me.

"...that they're incredibly stingy with their money. Ahuhuhuhu."

My fucks are all gone.

"You're mom was a hoe and ate your dad."

Her face blanks before burning with rage.

"You're fucking dead meat!"

[SPIDER DANCE begins to play in the background.]

My dull yellow soul comes out.

[Muffet traps you!]

"Oh, like this is fair. I can't move and you bring out a freaking gang. I mean, what are the damn rule anymore?!"

"Oh don't look so blue, my deary~."

She spins silk to entangle my soul then bites the end of a strand, her magic venom flows down the strand and coats the heart. Forcibly changing the trait and color.

"...I think purple is a better look on you! Ahuhuhu~."

This feels so wrong.

"Why is everyone messing with my soul today?!"

Her spider underlings draw webbing in strings in horizontal lines. These lines are also infused with the purple magic and attract my soul.

[You're trapped in a strange purple web!]

"Here's the deal, dearie~...A spider will appear to the right between each turn, holding a sign that presents the density and type of attack that will come after your turn. Now while you can't move, your pretty little soul can, and you'll have to move it along or switch between the three strings to avoid attacks. There will only be three strings. No more, no less. How's that for fair~?"

I mull it over.

"...Not bad actually. Who goes first?"

"You. I want to see what you can do."

She's a smart one, I'll give her that. Let's see my options.

[FIGHT]

[ACT]

[̴͝SP͜͞E͡L̵͜L͟͠͏]͘͢

[ITEM]

[MERCY]

That button is giving me weird vibes the more I see it.

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[STRUGGLE]

[PAY 10G]

Pay? Fuck that! I earned this gold. Mine!

[CHECK selected.]

[MUFFET – HP: 1250 ATK: 38.8 DEF: 18.8 – If she invites you to her parlor, excuse yourself.]

And she's better in the stat department than the butterdragon.

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a spider. The hell does that mean?

"Why so pale? You should be proud~."

"With the amount of blood I've lost today it would make me look like a corpse. But be proud of what?"

"Why...Proud that you're going to make a delicious cake~! Ahuhuhu~!"

Spiders begin crawling across the threads. It's like a weird form of Frogger minus hopping to safety. It's a simple move and I come out of it fine.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

Sweet, my HP is full. I love this nasty apron!

[All the spiders clap along to the music.]

It is a catchy tune, no lie. But I need to get out of this. It's not like all of me is unable to move.

[ACT selected.]

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Muffet covers her mouth and giggles at you.]

...Bitch.

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a spider. Okay, I know what that means now.

"Look at you. Trying to break free. It's so cute~."

"Would it help if I asked nicely? Please let me go?"

"Let you go? Don't be silly~. Your SOUL is going to make every spider very happy~~!"

Spiders cross the lines and it oddly seems like there was less this time. Making it easier.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

[Muffet does a synchronized dance with the other spiders.]

"You know...Someone warned us about you...Offered us a LOT of money for your SOUL."

This gets my attention.

"What?"

"Oh yes~. They had such a sweet smile~ and...Ahuhuhu~. It's strange, but I swore I saw them in the shadows...Changing shape...?"

The hell? Wait...She can't mean one of the Followers...Can she? Stop it! Don't think about them! Don't!

"Oh well. It's not like it matters anyway. Your move, dearie~."

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Muffet laughs and claps her hands.]

"Still trying, huh? Still thing. Don't you know spider silk is five times stronger than steel?"

I can not get a break today.

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of two spiders. What?

Double the spiders come on the strings at the same time. It's somehow a new move yet works too similar to the normal attack to be tricky. I dodge it fairly well.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

[Muffet pours herself a cup of spiders.]

...I didn't need to see that. No one needs to see a large spider drink smaller spiders like they were tea.

"*sip* With the money from you SOUL, the spider clans can finally be reunited~."

I tilt my head.

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't heard? Spiders have been trapped in the RUINS for generations!"

Obvious thing is obvious.

"Can't they, you know, squeeze out through the door?"

"*scoff* Even if they go under the door, Snowdin's fatal cold is impassable alone."

It is pretty cold there. Then they'd have to travel through two zones to get here. Damn, that sucks.

"But with the money from your SOUL, we'll be able to rent them a heated limo~. And with all of the leftovers...? We could have a nice vacation~! Or even build a spider baseball field~!"

What little sympathy I was gaining dies at that.

"Now you're just spending to show off."

"But enough of that...It's time for dinner, isn't it? Ahuhuhu~."

*Growls*

I look around and see nothing. I don't like this.

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Nothing happened.]

"Don't struggle too much. You'll make yourself all sweaty. No one wants a sweaty donut."

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a spider and a donut?

The spiders come crawling faster than before even if their numbers aren't as much, then they are followed by random donuts being thrown by the spiders blocking the pathways. This almost had me. Came close, but no cigar.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

I'm proud of my dodging skills. I've come a long way.

[Muffet tidies up the web around you.]

If you don't like crumbs, don't throw food. It's very simple.

*Growls*

There's that sound again. I really don't like it. Muffet does though.

"You look concerned."

"Are you saying you don't hear the growling?"

She giggles.

"Oh, how rude of me! I almost forgot to introduce you to my pet~."

I'm puzzled. What kind of pet does a spider have?

"Oh, my pet~...Looks like it's time for dessert~."

I can hear rapid heavy skittering. Not good! Not good!

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Muffet is so amused by your antics that she gives you a discount!]

"Tell you what...If you survive my pet, I just might consider sparing you."

"R-Really? That might actually be the f...Holy fucking shit!!"

*Roar*

An abomination appears. A hideous cupcake spider thing emerges from the webs.

"What the fuck is that thing?!"

"This is my pet. Have fun, you two~."

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a cupcake. I don't like this at all!

So many spiders speed by in an unchanging pattern of fear and with good reason. The freaky food beast climbs down and begins eating the strings, pulling my soul towards its hungry maw. This causes spiders that were already on their way to fall prey to this creature as I desperately do my best to not get hit or be dragged to what I assume is instant death. But I'm too panicked to be perfect in my dodging.

[HP ████ 4/40]

Six...I took six hits. I'm gonna die.

[Your soul can't take much more of this.]

No? Really?! Like I couldn't fucking tell!

"You're still alive? Ahuhuhu~...That's impressive~."

She calls her pet to her side.

"Got way too worked up...*gag* I think...*gag* I think I'm gonna puke. *hic*"

"...Please don't. Do you know how hard vomit is to clean out of webbing?"

I take a moment to settle down.

"*sigh* Don't lie...Spiders eat their webbing when it gets messed up."

She cringes.

"Yeah...I don't know everything about spiders. But I do know random gross stuff like that."

I shake off the impending dizziness.

"So...Are you going to spare me?"

She thinks for a moment.

"I will..."

Maybe there is a god?

"For the small fee of 500G~."

Nope. God's dead.

"Are you kidding me?! I'm fucking broke! "

I ain't telling her I have money.

"Then I guess we're going to be spending more quality time together, dearie~ I do hope you're feeling comfortable trapped in that web. Ahuhuhuhu~! Because I don't mind keeping you here for as long as it takes~!"

Damn it. I don't have time for this crap. Wait a second...Time? Heh...This gives me an idea.

"Say, Muffet...Who's watching your bake sale stand while you're here?"

She folds her upper arms.

"A loyal family member. Why do you ask?"

I chuckle softly.

"Oh, no reason. Just checking."

Her eyes cock.

"Checking?"

"Well, we've been here a long time. At least, you have because you got here before me. And we're far from your stand too. It would be a real shame if someone took your 'donations' while this fight was happening."

She sneers.

"Dearie, you're not going to fool me again with that trick. No one would dare steal from me."

I smirk.

"That's the thing...It's not YOU they'd stealing from now is it? It's some other weaker spider."

Her expression gains some worry.

"Even if that spider is loyal, can you honestly say it can defend the money if, let's say, a group stormed the table?"

Concern crosses her face and her pet nudges her as it picks up the vibes.

"Then...Then I'll kill you quickly and return before some fool even tries!"

I shake my head at her.

"Yeah, that would be a thing you could do. But...You can't."

"Wha...What do you mean I can't? You have four HP left! One more hit and your SOUL is mine!"

I put my hands in my pockets and rock on my heels.

"True. So very true. Yet...It's not your turn."

Her eyes widen, finally picking up on my little plan.

"Here's the thing...I've been in enough fights to understand how they work. It all functions on a turn-based system. It's a very fair means of doing combat. No one can attack at random, only when it's their turn. Heh...But the kicker is, and I think you know where I'm going with this...There's no time limit on turns. So if I want to...as long as I don't do anything...my turn will never end. And we'll be stuck here, locked like this...forever!"

Now it's her turn to feel panic.

"You're bluffing."

I grin.

"How much are you willing to bet on that? Because I wager your clan won't take losing all their hard-earned gold due to your negligence very well. They may think a new leader is needed if that happens."

I yawn and stretch to get cozy, showing I'm more than willing to stay put. She twitches with nervousness.

"So tell us, Muffet...What's it gonna be?"

Based on my understanding of Muffet, she's a greedy, stingy, intimidating, malicious, and somehow hypocritical monster, although having a courteous and sweet way of speaking. She won't stay. The odds don't favor her.

Her pet looks at her, the spiders turn to her, the pressure is almost visible as it smothers her. She balls her six fists and stomps her foot in a fit.

"Fine! I'll SPARE you!"

"For free?"

She grinds her teeth.

"Yes, for free! Just quit stalling and confirm it!"

[Muffet is sparing you and refuses your money.]

I can be super evil when I have the chance.

[MERCY selected.]

[SPARE selected.]

[YOU WON!]

[You earned 0 XP and 0 gold.]

The webbing around my soul dissolves. As does the stuff around my feet. My soul turns a dull orange and returns to my body.

"There, you're free. Now get lost!"

"I'm glad we could have such a fun time together, dear."

She snarls and hops onto her pet.

"Next time, you won't get away so easily."

"And maybe next time you'll be paying me for my amazing entertainment skills."

I think channeled Mettaton for a moment. She bites back some harsh unladylike remarks and rides off. I look at the spiders that block my way out.

"Move...please."

They're hesitant but do so.

"Thank you."

I take a few steps but stop near them, pulling out a small handful of gold.

"I don't know if what she said was true, but...here."

I put the gold on the ground and take my leave, pulling a bottle of cider from my inventory to heal.

"Consider it an addition to the amount I've already paid in the Ruins."

The spiders are confused but I hear them take the gold. I can be evil, yes. But it's not true to my nature. I drink the whole bottle as I enter a new, hopefully lacking in spiders, area.

[HP ████████████████████████████ 28/40]

Not bad. I'll fully heal up soon. This new area appears to have the same material as the Ruins. I'm getting homesick. I miss Toriel. I miss Flowey. I miss my bed. I want to go home.

My melancholy blinds me to my current surroundings. I only come out of it once a spotlight hits me.

"The hell...?"

Things look funny. No doubt it's a setup by Mettaton. But I'm unsure what this act is. I mean, it looks like a receptionist's waiting room. A desk and some random chairs.

"GOOD EVENING, LADIES AND GENTS...!"

Mettaton zips in wearing a red suit and shoves me in a chair as he takes center stage.

"FIRST AND FOREMOST, WE HERE AT MTTTV WOULD LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR THE LACK OF ME OVER THE COURSE OF THE PROGRAM. DUE TO THE LACK PREP WORK WITH MY COSTAR HERE, WE SADLY HAD TO FORGO A THRILLING ACT BACK IN LEVEL TWO INVOLVING HUNDREDS OF EXPLOSIVES!!"

I so freaking called it. I should let him have his moment...Nah!

"I thought you said that act was shit anyway?"

He extends an arm to cover my mouth.

"FORGIVE HER. SHE'S LOST A LOT OF BLOOD AND NOT ALL THERE MENTALLY."

I leer at him flatly.

"BUT...DARLING HERE IS GOING TO MAKE AMENDS WITH US ALL RIGHT NOW. IT'S TIME TO ANSWER SOME BURNING QUESTIONS."

I'm so confused as he lets go and leaps onto the desk, posing dramatically.

"IT'S TIME FOR..."

A large neon sign shaped like him drops from the ceiling.

"BURNING THE MIDNIGHT OIL WITH A KILLER ROBOT! THE LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOSTED BY YOURS TRULY."

Huh. Not a bad title.

"I thought you were working on a courtroom trial program?"

He scoots to now sit behind the desk.

"UNFORTUNATELY, WHILE I DO HAVE THE FUNDS, I DON'T HAVE AVAILABLE WORKERS TO MAKE SUCH A SET. SO...WE'RE DOING THIS INSTEAD."

"Heh...Must be hard to meet your expectations."

"DARLING, YOU HAVE NO IDEA."

A tense dramatic score plays.

"SO, DARLING...ARE YOU READY TO TELL ME EVERYTHING?"

Ah. I see now. Fine, Metta, have it your way. Just be careful what you wish for. You may not like it. Now don't get me wrong. I know my limits. I'm not about to tell him EVERYTHING. I'm not that stupid. But if he wants truth, he's going to get a version that's missing some characters and other junk.

"As you wish. You wanna know the truth? You want to scar the entire Underground? Sure. Why not. What else do I have to lose at this point since you exposed me? So congratulations! I hope you like the prize you've been longing to get. Because I sure as hell don't."

Let the show commence.

#undertale #underfell #Lynsie #Anomaly #sans #papyrus #gaster #grillby #grandpa semi #mettaton #napstablook #toriel #Asriel #flowey #asgore #chara #frisk #undyne #alphys

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percussionmassagerblog · 4 years ago

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10 PROS & CONS OF MASSAGE GUNS FOR RUNNERS

People that are always trying to find the very best & best method to call home through hard races and workouts. And who could blame individuals? The capacity to recuperate quickly means athletes may endure education hard, which theoretically, means advancement to getting a quicker, stronger runner. Of course, each time a fresh restoration technique or even product reaches the endurance community, then it is inclined to show viral. Compression socks. CBD oil. Epsom salt tub. Percussion / vibration massage firearms are no exception for the principle.

In reality, as I write this article, every advertisement that this is appearing within my own interpersonal networking packs is to get an alternative new rub gun down. Apparently everybody is expecting on the bandwagon, from quite long recognized restoration application brands, to businesses you may possibly have definitely never been aware about. Thus, what's the offer with percussion / Percussion Massager firearms? Achieve they actually get the job done? Let us dig deeper.

A massage is actually a handheld resource which massages muscles by supplying rapid bursts of force at concentrated, short-duration stimulation. Think about a mini-jackhammer, especially parts of your muscles.

The notion is the fact that the movement and impact, frequently called shaking treatment, helps loosen tight and sore muscle, very similar to that of a massage, in addition to stimulate the flow of blood to aid one to increase healing.

The massage firearms are an average of battery powered, also have various rate settings to change the intensity out of the massage. The majority of those massage firearms arrive with interchangeable minds to concentrate on different muscle tissues and portions of the human body.

Let us first discuss the advantages of these massage programs for runners.

Decreased DOMS

For anyone not familiar with the definition of, DOMS is the tender, tight experience which pops anywhere from 24-28 hrs after a powerful work outside or race. It's brought on by microscopic tears which ofcourse occur in muscle fibers throughout exercise. DOMS isn't simply embarrassing, however it might interfere with future work outs by leaving you sense too sore to work out, or inhibiting movement routines as a result of aggravation.

Plus one as straightforward as changing your running gait as your hamstrings are tender may lead to additional injury else where.

Essentially, the shaking therapy will help in avoiding mechanical overload of their muscular fibers, leading to less of one's above microscopic tears that the muscle.

Higher Efficiency Exactly the Exact Same above research shows that utilization of percussion and/or vibration treatment before exercise might assist:

Decrease tissue adhesion, thus increasing array of flexibility Reduction accumulation of lactic acid in the bloodstream, so decrease time before fatigue May offer an earlier decrease in pain (origin ). Each one these things can subscribe to increased functioning performance.

Greater Blood Circulation = Faster Recovery When used article exercise, percussion massage-therapy firearms might help temporarily increase the flow of blood into the muscle. Heightened blood circulation helps hasten the healing process by helping remove waste product in tissue that is damaged. What's more, the specific blood provides oxygen and nutrients into the muscular mass, and also help stimulate regrowth and recovery of their tissue.

Pain Alleviation Let us imagine you worked outside or dashed hard, and no matter of one's absolute best preventive measures, you still have muscles that are super sore. Massage. In other words, percussion massage firearms feel-good about sore muscles.

However, what does this mean?

According to the theory, sensory nerves carrying vexation sense and sensory nerves carrying vibratory sensation both transmit signals towards precisely the exact afferent neurons, which then sends data to a mind. The nerves triggered by vibratory feeling impair the afferent pain nerves, hence barring or preventing the material delivered by the nerves who felt pain. To put it differently the shaking by the percussion caress rifle may shut the nerve pathways into painful inputsignal, preventing pain sensation in traveling into the leading nervous system.

Give More Anxiety than Massage therapies I have no idea about you, but I am definitely the most intense at using self indulgent programs such as"the rod" and sometimes perhaps polyurethane rollers. Why? Because I can't physically use the tension needed, or I am at precisely the exact same time frame chicken to take to (as it strikes ). The battery life run, mechanical percussion/vibration massage firearms, but do not return. They have the seriousness that my muscles that are sore desire once I can not...or will not...take action .

Which would be the Disadvantages of Knead Guns? Here Is What you Want to're aware of the drawback of those recovery tools:

User Error Have you some idea what it is you're doing? Are you currently trained in the science in addition to implementation of massage? Chances are the answer will be extremely little (it's okay, the majority folks are not ). And consequently, often there is a chance you may wind up utilizing the massage gun erroneously. Or, you may possibly well be massaging a region that's experiencing known pain, also maybe not targeting the location which really needs help with healing.

I reached to someone Who's trained in massageand she consented up on." It (the massage weapon ) is a instrument, so it is just like the consumer " Says accredited massage remedies therapist Michele Zeberlein. "Should you understand just what direction to go and manners, then it's really a fantastic tool. However, in addition, it can cause further problems is employed in the incorrect way. "

It's required to learn the safety instructions which include your percussion massage handgun. So if in doubt in the event that you're targeting the suitable area for helping any pain you're having, make reference to your doctor or maybe massage therapist.

Stroke firearms utilized on harms such as stress, sprains, broken bones, and sometimes extreme swelling may potentially cause your injury more powerful. They are able to further hurt the wounded tissue, and sometimes even fortify swelling speed. This is only going to delay healing period, and might cause further annoyance.

Hypertension (elevated blood pressure) Rheumatoid arthritis, arthritis, arthritis, or fibromyalgia Varicose veins

Muscular dystrophy or alternative muscular ailments As always, reevaluate to a medical doctor when you have questions regarding respect to massage gun usage and some other injuries, chronic complications, or other health conditions such as pregnancy.

Bulky / Enormous / Noisy While maybe not true for each and every percussion massage weapon, more than a few of these are able to be bulky or heavy. The very first time that I implemented one, I had been astonished by just how much sexier it had been anticipated (today, do not misunderstand me, an average of the ExoGun DreamPro we have is 2. 5 weight. Still, I did not expect the burden ). It primarily is logical, nevertheless, since the battery has to be large enough presenting capacity to the engine which goes pretty fast.

Rely to a Solar-battery While virtually all the massage firearms available on the industry at this time chance to be corded, they still have a battery that has to be charged. Different from a normal foam roller or hand-held tool which could possibly be human-powered, a massage weapon wont work without becoming an energy resource.

Therefore, if you should be carrying your knead rifle into a lengthier event -- state an ultra marathon or stage race, then you have to become conscious of battery lifetime.

Bundle cost This is huge. I have seen percussion massage prints vary between $49. 9-5 completely as much as $1, 200. Sure, you read that right -- a dozen hundred cash to get its small edition, goldplated, G3PRO Theragun. Many folks us seem to put at the 100 -$300 range. All these are certainly the investment, and maybe not really a cheap tool such as a roller coaster.

You may be wondering exactly what these acronyms mean -- and also why that they matter. Thus, allow me to help.

Stroke Length: that can be called amplitude. To spell out, just how far does the mind of this massage gun travel. Or simply, how heavy can it move in your own muscle. Percussion exact firearms will routinely have a increased stroke span than guys designed to concentrate on vibration.

To put it differently, what number"percussions" (sometimes the mind of this massage gun will likely reach on your muscle) each and every minute.

Stall Force: how the burden it's possible to apply on the apparatus before it dries and ceases changing. To put it differently, just how much pressure could YOU placed on the rifle before motor ceases proceeding.

Other items to think about: Additional variables to take into account are now actually going to boil down to personal taste. Consider precisely what you want (and desire ) out of a massage weapon ). Those variables might be:

Battery life or interchangeable battery packs Weight Develop (could it be easy to put up? Would you reach specific sections, such as the back or shoulders? ) Noise place Attachment heads

Therefore...Can I Want a Massage Gun Only for Running Retrieval? The thousand dollar question -- will probably soon be these massage firearms worth every penny?

Maybe.

The boundless marketing effort in my face book feed directly now may possibly be attempting to embarrass me these would be the best things since sliced bakery. But massage firearms are merely an instrument. They'll in no way completely block or solve sore tissues, and they'll never guarantee decreased healing period.

While there's loads of researching pointing into the efficacy of percussion and shaking healing for muscle soreness and healing period, there's also viable research that says differently.

My thoughts: In case you should be excited about purchasing a massage first use one from the pal or with a massage therapist. See whether you take pleasure in the stroke, also notice some other positive aspects.

After that, browse reviews.

You are able to acquire hundreds of brands of massage firearms available on the industry at the moment. Ordinarily the greater price label does not necessarily relate to some fantastic nutritional supplement. Conversely, a relatively inexpensive massage rifle does not suggest it's crap.

And finally, be sure to actually enjoy the massage gun. Many folks will likely delight in the impression of percussion and shaking massage rifles, while some could see them anything but relaxing. Of course in the event that you are not going to make use of a restoration tool or procedure as you can not endure it (such as me personally along with ice bathrooms ) so of course it wont be quite good in any way.

#Percussion Massager

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carry-the-sky · 5 years ago

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these heavy words, your open heart

summary

“You told me once that I was honest. That I don’t lie to you. But the hospital—you asked me to start over, and I said I didn’t want that.”

Karen sucks in a breath. Frank’s eyes are still on her, wide and bright. It’s the most vulnerable she’s ever seen him look.

“I lied,” he says.

chapter one | chapter two

He still doesn’t reach out to Karen. He knows he’s being a chickenshit about it, but there’s just too much he wants and needs to say. It’s an unspoken deal he makes with himself—soon, but not yet.

Not yet.

Sometimes, Frank wonders if he ever really came home from the desert.

The thing is, killing feels the same here as it did over there. Less chaotic, but the muscle memory sticks. He remembers the first time he killed someone, how quick and precise it was. Finger to trigger, the pop-pop-pop staccato of gunfire, and it was over. (He’d been sick, afterwards, vomit on his boots and in the sand. It’ll get easier, Schoonover had said, clapping him on the back.)

He wasn’t wrong.

After losing his family, Frank thought he’d never get his fill of it. No matter how many shitbags he put down, it was never enough. Even later—after taking out the gangs, killing Agent Orange with his bare hands, Bill, Billy fuckin’ Russo—even after all of that, he was running on fumes, still empty.

Frank tells himself that’s why he falls back into it. The city’s retching up scumbags left and right, and he likes it that way. Down in the filth, he knows who he is.

So why does he feel so goddamn tired?

It doesn’t happen overnight. There are parts of this lifestyle set too deep, things that make his fingers itch for a trigger. He still comes home a couple magazines lighter, still has to scrub to get the blood out from under his nails.

Pete Castiglione’s right where Frank left him, so it’s not difficult to slide back into his skin. He snags a part-time construction job and finds an apartment that leases longer than month-to-month. Still doesn’t sleep through the night, but he dreams less. A small, twisted part of him misses the nightmares. It’s the only way he can see his family now.

One month ticks by, then two. He’s got a mental list going of the people he needs to make things right with, everyone who got caught up in his shitstorm. Curt, the Liebermans, Amy, Madani.

Karen.

Bare minimum, he owes her an apology. Owes her a hell of a lot more than that, if he’s being really honest with himself, but this—building an after from scratch—it’s a work in progress. He’s starting small, working his way from there. It’s all he can do.

So he does it. He works his way through his list. Grabs lunch with Curt a few times, goes to one of his meetings. The Liebermans invite him over for dinner, just the two of them. David says the kids are spending the weekend with their grandparents, but Frank suspects that’s not the whole truth. He’s not offended—if anything, he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to face Zach and Leo, not after all the shit they’ve probably heard and seen about him on the news.

Madani offers him a job every goddamn time he calls her, and the kid—she seems happy, doing who the hell knows what down in Florida. She sends a photo the next time she writes, and he almost doesn’t recognize her with short hair and a beach tan.

Not yet.

Frank starts jogging on the mornings he’s not working. It helps to ease some of the tension that winds up, all the shit he’s not able to work out with a sledgehammer. He carves out a nice route that goes along the water, runs until his legs start to ache. There’s a winter market on the weekends that he likes to hit on his way home—he grabs fresh produce some days, breakfast and coffee on others, like today, when there’s a shorter line than usual at his favorite breakfast burrito stand. He finds a nearby bench overlooking the harbor and tucks in.

It takes him a moment to realize he’s being watched. There’s a familiar sensation, the nape of his neck prickling. Frank swallows the bite he’d been chewing and glances to the side, grabbing the napkin he’d set beside him on the bench to mask the movement—

It’s a dog. A dog is watching him.

Frank blows out a breath, shaking his head as relief floods through him. The dog is several feet away, twitching its nose tentatively in his direction. Frank doesn’t have to guess at what it wants. He can see the poor thing’s ribs from here, jutting up between patches of scruff. It’s a pit bull mix, judging from the shape of its face, and Frank has a sudden image of a family turning it away because their apartment complex has breed restrictions, another image of some faceless thug pulling it into a dog-fighting ring. He digs his nails into his palm, once, twice, working out the simmering anger that’s building in his chest.

The dog has turned its head towards the market. Taking care to move slowly, Frank kneels on the ground and holds out the last of his burrito palm-up. He doesn’t have a lot of experience with abused animals, but he knows enough. He knows what it’s like to be alone and hurting.

He keeps his eyes fixed on the ground and stays very still. A minute passes—then there’s movement in his periphery, paws crunching in snow. Another long pause before he feels the dog nose his hand, its tongue warm and wet as it devours the burrito in one bite and licks his palm clean.

“You liked that, huh?” Frank asks, and he feels the dog tense at the sound of his voice. “I know, shh, shh. You don’t know me, I get it. But I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The dog makes a low, rumbling sound in its throat, but it doesn’t move. Neither does Frank. He’s still looking away, still holding his hand open when the dog finally walks away. Frank watches it go, tail between its legs as it slinks off down the sidewalk. Another block, and it’ll be out of sight.

Frank gets to his feet. Maybe he could try to get it to a vet, see if it’s been micro-chipped or if anyone’s been on the lookout for a lost dog. It’s not like he has anything better to do, and more importantly, he wants to. He wants to help.

Frank keeps a reasonable distance as he follows. The dog cuts a haphazard path through the neighborhood, down alleys and little side streets that take them away from the press of people. Frank rubs his arms as he walks—his long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants are enough to ward off the biting cold when he’s jogging, but now he’s starting to feel it. Just a bit longer, he tells himself. How he plans to coax the dog when he has no more food, he has no idea. He’s operating on instinct here. A few more minutes, and then he’ll call it.

But he doesn’t get a few more minutes. Frank turns a corner, follows the dog back onto a main road, and very abruptly realizes where he is.

Her apartment building looks the same. A little more festive—someone’s strung lights on their balcony a few floors up, and there’s a large wreath hanging on the doors leading to the lobby—but still the same, squat brick building she’d brought him to all those months ago.

He knows, because there are flowers in her window.

He shouldn’t read anything into it, even though his heart’s kicking and there’s a fresh layer of sweat slicking his palms. The roses were a one-time thing, a way for her to contact him when he still thought David was a threat. After the way things went down at the hospital, everything he said—and didn’t say—to her—

No. Sometimes flowers are just flowers.

Still, he remains rooted where he stands. What if this is something else? Karen has no other means of tracking him down—she’s a damn good investigator, but he knows how to bury his head in the sand. Maybe something’s happened and this was the only way she could get his attention, maybe she’s in trouble—

It’s not a choice, not when it comes to her. Frank surveys the building. He doesn’t want to chance going up the fire escape in broad daylight, so he heads through the front doors and takes the stairs to her floor.

The hallway is empty, and quiet. There’s no answer when he knocks on her door, and his pulse jackhammers a little quicker. He digs in the pockets of his sweatpants, gaze scouring the floor for anything he could use to pick the lock.

“Can I help you?”

Frank startles a bit at the sound, but covers by running a hand over his head. Jesus, he’s rusty. He turns to see a young woman—Amy’s age, maybe—coming out of the apartment across the hall. She has a friendly face, but her eyes are narrowed slightly in suspicion. He’s forgotten what it feels like to be looked at that way, like he’s something to be feared. It’s like pulling on a pair of old jeans and discovering they still fit.

“Hey, how’s it going,” he says, cranking his lips into a smile. “I’m a friend of Karen’s, thought I’d drop by since I was in the neighborhood.”

It’s a piss-poor explanation, and by the look on the woman’s face, she thinks so too. He really can’t blame her for not buying it. Strange man acting twitchy and lurking outside a single woman’s apartment—he knows exactly what this looks like.

“I think she’s out,” the woman says slowly. “I can tell her you came by—”

“Nah, you know what, I’ll just swing by some other time.” Frank’s already moving down the hall towards the stairwell. “Thanks.”

He ducks down the stairs without a backwards glance. Christ, that was a goddamn disaster. He really has been out of the thick of it for awhile.

Once he’s back on the street, he slows his pace. Still moves quick enough to put some distance between himself and Karen’s building, but not so fast as to attract attention.

He’s halfway down the block when he remembers—the dog. Shit. He throws a glance over his shoulder, but there’s no sign of it. Even if there were, he’s overstayed his welcome. Karen’s neighbor seemed like the kind of person who wouldn’t hesitate to call the cops on someone suspicious hanging around the area.

His stomach twists at the thought of the dog spending another night on the streets, hungry and cold, but he can’t look for it now. Karen and her safety are his sole focus. There’s still a way to know for sure if the flowers in her window are for decoration or not.

Frank fishes his phone from his pocket, scrolls until he gets to her name. His thumb hovers over the call button for a second before he punches it. It rings and rings and then goes to voicemail.

“Karen, it’s—me. Call me when you get this.” He rattles off his number. “Just—call me. Please.”

He jogs the rest of the way back to his place. There’s a familiar, restless energy building up in his bones, and he knows no amount of running or working with a sledgehammer will quiet it this time. Either he’ll hear from Karen, or he won’t. He knows what he has to do if it’s the latter. Karen Page is worth going to war for.

#kastle #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #kastlechristmas #c sand #my fic

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rockofeye · 5 years ago

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Intimate Revealing

This past week was the observance of the transverberation of St. Teresa de Avila, and it is one of my most favorite Catholic-y things because I find it so absurdly hilarious. In Roman Catholicism, transverberation is an ecstatic phenomenon where a individual experiences their heart being pierced by a divine arrow or sphere, and that leads to ecstatic painful paroxysms of divine love. Most folks who experienced this were monastics living under a vow of chastity, and the descriptions of transverberation are basically very carefully described experiences of what sure walks/talks/sounds like an orgasm (seriously...the descriptions of ‘entrails’ being penetrated over and over and physical convulsions that are prolonged over time are very politely pornograpic). This amuses me no end.

Teresa in particular had this well-documented, and created an entire meditative prayer cycle/method about how to reach this state of ecstatic divine union (check out The Interior Castle..I like the translation by Mirabai Starr). She was a bad-ass top to bottom--she was a reformer of her religious order because she thought the nuns and monks had become lazy and entitled and, after she retired from cracking the whip, she was asked by her religious superior to write The Interior Castle as sort of a guidebook for younger monastics in order. Her whole take on this was basically a shrug; she literally writes in the opening ‘I thought I taught you all everything you need to know and I don’t know that I have anything else to say, but I’m supposed to be obedient so...’. I like her.

With this particular feast day on the recent calendar, it got me thinking a lot about how the lwa break and break open my heart. They are experts at breaking my heart, and have done it over and over. I think there is always a negative connotation to the idea of having a broken heart, but I don’t find it negative. It’s often/always painful, sure, but the breaking causes a re-healing in a manner that makes me more of myself and more of who they see me as. Over time, I have really come to find my multi-year process of initiation (because kanzo is only a trigger point) as a process of heartbreak, over and over, to bring me to them in a particular way. When my heart is crushed in their hands, it makes me want to cling to them more. They have never, ever led me astray...ever. If I hold to my promises and oaths as I am expected to, they will always break my heart to make me whole.

I think after seven years or so (WHERE has the time gone?) of them continually breaking my heart, it has become almost an expected part of my personal evolution. I know that my heart has to go to pieces if there is to be change, and my viewpoint of how that comes into play has changed. It is never as shocking and not nearly as painful to welcome that change and dive into what it means as it used to be. It doesn’t shake my world anymore...it feels like medicine and opportunity, all wrapped into one.

With that in mind, I asked Ogou to break my heart this year.

Vulnerability has been on my mind for the better part of of 2019. I am not good at being vulnerable, and it has shown and become something that has hobbled me. My reality as a visibly queer and gender non-conforming individual in a world that is hostile to my existence has led to me carefully curating my vulnerability so that it is purposefully hidden away. My profession means I have to be very mindful of my own vulnerability and related safety, and so I have become a bit of a moving a fortress. And, I carry my own baggage, too...if I hold things and people at a distance, they are not going to be able to hurt me. I am hard to get to know. I hold myself back too much and I do that way too much of the time.

It’s not something I can unpack on my own. For me, a significant part of my kanzo was me acknowledging with my lwa that my way does not work for me a lot of the time. After all, when I came to them I had been doing things my way for thirtysomething years and I was dying when I reached the djevo door. What I had been doing had not been working super well, and it was clear--from my own observation and their direction--that I needed to do something different if I was to survive.

So, when I find myself in a place where I need to unpack and rearrange the baggage and (most importantly) balance it out, I go to my lwa. I don’t know why i went to Ogou, except that I know that when I ask for assistance with things that aid my personal growth Ogou historically has strapped on a flame thrower and put on his serious face to create an awe-inspiring forest fire in the middle of my life. He is the flame and I am the tiniest moth. We have this fatalistic love affair where I will repeatedly throw myself against him in the hopes that I will dissolve into some sort of glorious glittery oblivion and then..?

I asked Mèt Ogou to help me be vulnerable in the right ways and the ways that would allow nothing to stand between myself and my lwa. And, because I still have a wacky sliver of self preservation still rattling around in the closet of my brain, I asked him tanpri si vous plait to not burn it all down again, if the work could be done any other way.

He listened. Too often, people only conceive of Ogou as the warrior who fights or stands in defense, but he is a consummate surgeon, healer, and, in his own very specific way, a houngan with a massive spiritual work skillset. Sometimes it’s all flamethrower, jackhammer, and dynamite, sometimes it is delicate scalpel and minimal movement.

It was subtle to start. He laid a question deep in my heart: what is important to you now? It made me stumble for a minute..that’s a large and loaded question. Over a few weeks, it became clearer: my life has been made whole, as I requested of my lwa when I did kanzo; who I am now? What labels are important to me? What makes me me? Do the words and labels I use for myself serve me or do they limit me? What words/labels do I want to hold and which do I want to leave?

Once I saw the fullness of the question, it was sort of like something burst open. This was a heartbreak, but it didn’t hurt. It felt like the most natural next step, and I absolutely know that is both grace Ogou has gifted me in the process and a testament to the personal work of the last five years. This would have shaken me up a LOT in the past and, at least up until today, it has felt comfortable and normal and embracing.

I started looking critically at what I say about myself and how I place myself in the world, and I saw pretty quickly that I limit myself quite deeply even when I think I am placing myself in opposition to the popular oppressive narrative that seeks to limit me on it’s own. It has been an interesting revelation to grasp onto. My therapist is having a field day, and is gleefully emotive about this sudden explosion of personal introspection.

It has felt surprisingly unemotional (also a grace of Ogou). I don’t have to have feelings about it because it’s not something that has judgement attached. Ogou doesn’t have an agenda with this beyond seeking to facilitate what I have asked. There is no right answer, and the only wrong ‘answer’ is to not diligently evaluate how I move in the world and how that opens or closes my heart.

I’ve spent a lot of time passively considering how I conceive of myself and how that colors my relationships with my lwa and with those closest to me. The fruits of this almost daydream-y flow of thought has been the query of what it might be like to truly be free.

I’ve spent a lot of time actively considering this, too, and one of the gifts of my relationship with S is how it inverts a lot of things that I have held onto as immovable parts of myself simply because of the nature and context of our relationship. We married in Haiti where same gender marriage is illegal and where sexuality and gender are conceived of and held socially in very, very different ways, and I will always and forever be his wife in Haiti. I could out-masculine Tom of Finland’s characters and I will still be his wife.

This ate at me for awhile and I was not really sure what to do with it, so I pushed it off and chose not to think about it. Unsurprisingly, it flew up almost immediately when Ogou and I got to work and I spent quite awhile looking at it and playing the tape through on it. Lots of writing and conversations with Self.

Does this hold me up or hold me back?

I found myself in a place that surprised me. It’s just a fucking word.* I don’t NEED to feel a certain way about it or hold onto feelings that perhaps I felt I was supposed to have about being a not-woman labeled a wife. This blew open a lot of shit and I have spent the last six months re-opening boxes labeled ‘gender’ and really digging in to see what I have packed away in there. I found there was a lot of stuff in there that I just don’t care about anymore. A lot of window-dressing where a simple, straightforward understanding for myself is more than enough.

A gift of my relationship with S is it’s simplicity. It is straightforward with this really foundational understanding between us that I haven’t had in other relationships: we are who are and the love between us is not conditional on identity or perceived identity. Like, for me, that is a deceptively simple thing that undoes so much of how I have experienced relationships in the past.

I should have seen the building blocks of that when we went to see Agwe the day after our wedding and, bobbing in the waves, told each other that the most important part of our relationship was to bring our whole selves to the table. I told him that I wanted him to be able to be all of who he is, and he told me he wanted the same for me. Funny how speaking these things out loud births something new into the world.

It’s funny how these things have inevitable conclusions and circles become like lungs, contracting and expanding to contain and expel what is necessary or unnecessary at that given moment. I keep coming back to a lesson that I have such trouble grasping: there is no finality in Self. I can’t reach an understanding of who I am and say that this is how it will be forever because that is simply not how my life works, and it never ever has.

For me, I think I have looked for comfort in knowing who I am and that is the wrong place for me to seek that, particularly because my Self is not just my own. Through the grace of the djevo and maryaj lwa, I belong to my spirits wholly and wholly they belong to me.

In all of this, Ogou watched.

Cut to this summer in Haiti.

In preparing to go this summer, I had a giant moment of ‘fuck it’. S was telling me it was painfully hot down there, and I was dreading doing things like ‘wear clothes’. I had envied many of the female-id’ed folks rocking light housecoats and sundresses when the heat was oppressive, and the idea of wearing shorts and a tanktop when the heat index was over 100F was Too Much. So, I exercised the wife card and bought some light housedresses and enjoyed the fuck out of the breeze I got wearing them when I sat in the lakou in the shade. No one said a word because no one cared. More importantly, I didn’t care and it felt fine. Felt so fine, in fact, that I ended up giving in to the need for a skirt and a headwrap for a ceremony later in the summer (another post entirely on whys and hows of that in the near future..) and that was also fine.

And yet...there was a moment when Ogou saw me and pierced my heart in a new way. A transverbation, perhaps, without the flowery language and paroxysms and orgasms. That phrase of talking about how you look into the abyss and the abyss looks back at you? Yup.

That is how Ogou is for me; he sees into my damn soul. They all can do that, of course, but Ogou does it in such a way that lays me flat, each and every time. I am not scared of any lwa, but Ogou intimidates the fuck out of me and, in particular, Batagi makes me feel like the smallest small thing to the point where, if I am in front of him, I often have a hard time looking him in the eye or speaking or breathing or...anything. Like, massive stage fright mixed with meeting your favorite celeb mixed with getting propositioned by the hottest person you know mixed with seeing your husband after six months of no contact. He undoes me.

Ogou’s fet in Haiti is a two night affair, and, on the second night, I got myself together and put myself in front of Batagi. I carry this baggage of assuming that Ogou is always less-than-pleased with me, and so I had those nerves going, too. This has never, ever turned out to be true--I am far harder on myself than he has ever been--and so it really is baggage.

He always makes me get all the way down on the ground for him. I kissed his feet and waited for time to speak with him (when Ogou pulls up in our house, he’s got a line waiting for him, always). In a quiet moment, I told him in his ear that I have never forgotten what he has done for me and that people don’t grasp the miracles Ogou can work in the djevo, but that I know and that my gratitude knows no bottom because I am alive because of him.

I got a brief nod and he began to speak. It was the longest conversation we have had face-to-face since I entered the djevo, as I don’t put myself in front of the lwa that often; my attitude is that if they want me, they will find me or find me in dreams (and they do).

I listened and understood what he was telling me, and told him so. He raised his eyebrows and I got some resting Ogou face.

Vreman? Di m. Really? Tell me. He didn’t say this out of curiousity; it was a demand. Oh, you speak Kreyol? PROVE IT.

So, I did. Wi, Papa. Ou te di m ke, pou m, wap nan chak moso vi m. Chak bagay map fe, ou la. Ou toujou la menm le m pat we ou, e ou toujou avem paske kè w se pou m. M pa gen anyen Ogou pap touche. Every little piece of my life contains you. Everything I do, you are there. You are always there even when I don’t see it, and you are always with me because your heart is for me. I don’t have anything that Ogou doesn’t touch.

He nodded his approval and left me with another heartbreak: M pa egrè. I am not bitter. Then, he was off to dance and I was left flayed.

Ogou is a lwa who is passionate and forthright, but Batagi in particular is not super emotive; he is the Ogou who is most like the chairman of the board who strategizes. One of his ‘praise names’ (for lack of a better term) is neg politik; literally the political man, or politician. For him to stand in front of me and really lay it out who we are to each other top to bottom was an atomic bomb for me, and m pa egrè was a whole conversation that continued for quite awhile.

He cut right to the literal heart of the task of finding out what holds me back: he intimidates me, so I stay back because of my intimidation and worry that he is unhappy with me and will be cruel. Yet, he is in everything for me, top to bottom left to right upside down inside out, and he is not bitterness for me...but, as the continuation of the conversation went, he is not going to chase me. He waits, and has been waiting, but Ogou does not run after his priest and spouse and servant. He will wait because he can be patient and because free will is valuable to him.

He laid that at my feet, and I have taken it up in pursuit of never being separated from my spirits and of knowing myself fully and of laying my heart wide open for those that love me. My first prayer when I came back from Haiti was for Ogou to show me how to walk closely with him and to show me myself, because I want nothing to separate me from my lwa, ever. The remnants of that prayer are buried in my heart, and that lamp still burns brightly.

And that is how Ogou breaks my heart.

#vodou #haitian vodou #real vodou #Ogou

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365daysofsasuhina · 6 years ago

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Twenty-Six: ___ At Night ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina, stalking ] [ Verse: Of Monsters and Men ] [ AO3 Link ]

There’s always a reason they say, “Don’t go out at night”.

An hour left in her shift, and already Hinata’s feet are starting to drag. A full morning of classes, and then a shift in the evening at a cafe just off campus waitressing leaves her exhausted. Thank goodness she only has to do this three nights a week.

Just one more hour, she tells herself. One more hour, and then it’s just a short walk home. Barely two blocks. So far, there’s been no hassle. It helps a fellow student happens to work the same shift, and even lives in the same dorm, different floor. They aren’t exactly friends, but there’s an unspoken promise to walk together.

Just in case.

But tonight happens to be different. The other woman’s down with a seasonal cold, and her stand-in is some middle-aged man that typically handles the mornings. Which not only leaves Hinata with a stranger, but...without her partner for her walk.

It’s been silently eating at her all evening despite her mental insistence that it’ll be fine. Hardly any distance to cover, she tells herself. You’ll be back in your dorm before anyone even notices you’re out and about!

It’s almost convinced her when a late-night customer shuffles in. Hood drawn over a cap and hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his long coat, he just has that look. But more than that...a feeling any woman knows.

Her coworker’s already busy with another table, so...she swallows down her trepidation, approaching with a smile. “Good evening! Table for one?”

“Yeah.”

“This way, please!” She leads him to a corner table, tucked away from most of the others. It’s quiet at this hour, only a few other people left in and eating, including a gaggle of teenagers who’ve been ruckusing for what feels like half the evening. But suddenly Hinata finds herself glad for the distraction. “Here you go - and here’s a menu. I’ll be back in a few to get your order.”

The way he eyeballs her, not even bothering to answer, sends up about twenty red flags.

Retreating to the back, Hinata hides in kitchen for a few moments, pretending to look for something. The portly cook, father of a friend, gives her a perked-brow look. “...Hinata…? Everything okay?”

There’s a pause, weighing her options. She hates to complain - it feels like she eats away at her employability when she does. “Um...yes, it’s fine.”

He doesn’t look like he believes her...but doesn’t pry. “Night’s almost over, you’ll be out of here soon. Just keep it up a little longer.”

“R-right.” After a few minutes, she brings the latest customer some water, asking if he’d like anything else. Still no answer. “Have you...decided what you’ll have?”

“Club sandwich. Steak fries.”

“All right, I’ll bring that out for you soon!”

From there, she tends to a few other tables, seeing a few guests out until it’s almost empty. Once the food’s done, she carries it over, ignoring the feeling of his eyes boring into her. “All right sir, here’s your order - anything else?”

“...no.”

“Please do keep in mind we close in about twenty minutes.”

Another bout of silence, ignoring her and taking a sloppy bite that almost makes her flinch. Eugh…

By closing time, he’s nearly finished. Already counting tips and doling them out, her coworker asks, “Should I make him go? Offer him a box?”

Hinata weighs that. “Um...I guess you can try…?”

And so he does...to no result. “Well...I’m gonna go ahead and start vacuuming, if you want to handle tables.”

“Got it.” Gearing herself with hot soapy water and a rag, Hinata makes practiced work of closing. And all the while, the hair on the back of her neck stands up as she feels that same gaze on her back, pointedly ignoring him.

So much for a safe walk home…

Part of her wonders if she should call someone, but...it’s ten o’clock. No one available is going to want to go out now...and anyone already out likely won’t be much help. So once closing is finished save for their lingering guest, she hovers near the back as the other waiter tries to get him to leave.

“Sir, it’s a quarter after closing. Staff would like to go home for the night. I can get you a to-go box…?”

“All right, fine.”

To her surprise, as he grabs said box, the man murmurs, “You’d best head out - I’ll keep him around for a few more minutes so you can get a head start.”

Hinata can’t help a jolt. “I...t-thanks.”

Hurrying and gathering up her bag and tips, Hinata makes her way out the back door. The light is a bit dim, but she scurries out toward the sidewalk and beelines for campus.

Unfortunately...he’s faster than either of them suspected.

“Hey.”

Not daring to stop, she tries walking faster...but a hand on her shoulder spins her around. An attempt to lift pepper spray from her pocket gets her wrist caught in a joint-crushing grip. “A-ahh…!”

“You always so cold when a man speaks to you?” he mutters, gross breath blooming against her face. “Look at me!”

“That’s enough.”

A smooth voice sounds behind them, and he dares to look over a shoulder. “The hell do you want? You a cop or somethin’...?”

“Interesting that that’s your first concern,” they go on. “Makes me wonder if this isn’t just a little confrontation that needs breaking up.”

“Ain’t none of your business. So scram, asshole.”

“It might have escaped your notice, but I can smell her fear. She wants nothing to do with you. I think it’s you who needs to scram.”

Eyes squint. “...t’hell you mean, smell fear? What, you a bloodhound and an asshole?”

Still unable to see whoever’s speaking, Hinata barely dares to breathe. It...sounds like someone’s trying to save her…? Is it a cop?

There’s a chuckle that sends a chill down her spine. “Bloodhound…? Hm...close, but not quite.”

Before she can blink, Hinata reflexively gasps as someone steps in front of her - where did they come from?! They grip her aggressor’s wrist in a way that releases his hold with a howl of pain. She scrambles back several paces before falling backward with a cry.

“Tch, you’re disgusting. Not even worth my time. You smell like rotten meat and onions...I can only imagine what you’d taste like…”

Breath catches in Hinata’s throat. T...taste…?

By now, still flailing in an unrelenting hold, the man following her is practically blubbering. “Look man, I’ll leave her alone - I was just messin’ around, I wasn’t -”

“I don’t give a damn what excuses you throw at me. Fear’s not the only thing I could smell...your intentions reek. Don’t bother trying to hide it. Now...what to do with you…”

“C’mon man, I -!”

“I could toss you in a dumpster with the rest of the garbage, but I doubt you’ll stay there where you belong. There’s a bridge nearby...maybe you’d like to go for a swim? Bathe off some of your grime…?”

“No! No no -!”

“Hm, you’re right...I don’t feel like dragging you all the way over there. I suppose for now...we’ll settle on letting you take a little nap…!” With a thrust of an elbow to a temple, the man goes limp, collapsing atop the sidewalk.

Hinata stares.

Her savior - if that’s what he really is - sighs with a slight bow of his head. “What a way to ruin the start of a nice night…” Turning, he gives her an appraising glance. “...are you all right…?”

“He...is he…?”

“He’s just unconscious. Nothing to really worry about. Besides...he needs a little reality check.”

Entirely confused, Hinata has far too many questions and no answers. “Who...w-who are you?”

“You can call me Sasuke. Most people do.” Eyes flicker to her chest, where her name tag is still pinned. “I suppose you can too, Hinata. Now, you should get up and head home. It’s dangerous to be out at night. You never know what kind of monsters you’ll run into.”

Staring for a moment, she shakily does as suggested. “You…?”

“Hm?”

“Y-you said something about…a-about smell, and...and taste…?”

A smile curls his lips. “Did I?”

“W-what was that supposed to mean?”

After a small pause, he takes several steps forward, not stopping until he’s half a pace from her. Leaning forward, Sasuke lets his smile widen. Within, gleaming in the dull lamplight, are long, shining teeth.

“...I’ll give you three guesses.”

Heart pounding, Hinata finds herself unable to move. What...but he can’t be...that’s not possible…!

“Your heart’s jumping like jackhammer. I think you need to get home and rest.”

“B-but -!”

“I’ve blazed a path for you. I suggest you take it before something else wanders onto it and causes trouble. And try not to walk alone...that was a foolish thing to do.”

She wants to rebuke - rebuke and question and argue, but he’s already turning around to leave. “W...wait!”

“Why?”

A scramble for an answer. “I...I didn’t get to thank you.”

He stops...and glances over his shoulder. “...I guess you do owe me...I’ll have to mull it over. For now...consider it an IOU. Now get going - I’ve got more important things to do than muck about with a little lost human.”

Officially perplexed and in a state of disbelief, she just...watches him go before glancing back to her route home. A few stumbled steps then lead her into a run. No one else interrupts her, and she makes her way into the dorm lobby. Her back crashes against the door, struggling to breathe.

...no one’s ever going to believe her.

Guh, another late night...been a bit busy today, but at least it's done! A classic little instance of something supernatural. Seems Hinata's managed to attract the attention of your friendly neighborhood vampire! And just in time, too! I don't write vampire crossover stuff too often, even though I enjoy it. It doesn't seem to do as well with audiences, lol - it's cliche, so I guess I can understand. But Uchivamps are just...too much fun NOT to indulge in every once in a while~ Anyway, that's all for tonight! I've got a few other projects to wrap up, so I'll call it here. Thanks for stopping by!

#uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #sasuhina #stalking //#of monsters and men [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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omg-kat · 7 years ago

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Wow! 800 followers! Where the heck did you guys even come from?!

Well I guess it’s time for CHAPTER TWO - PART TWO!!!

Chapter One ♥ Chapter Two - Part One ♥ WIP info and characters

Time for those tags... sorry this list is kinda getting ridiculous: @bronwyn-writes, @inkdropsonroses, @theprocrastinating-writer, @kittensartsbooks, @aeryn-writes @forlornraven, @alongftride @starlightswitch@silverlakeforest @el-norawrites@incandescent-creativity @bonewrites@icechimaera @woahwhatislife@feathered-quill @allthelovelyghosts@morriganwrites-0124 @adorhauer@lady-redshield-writes @willowandsnow @homesteadhorner @stirredhearts @toboldlywrite@eternalwritingstudent @woahwhatislife @alizans@novelistcore @theclichestories @marydreamy @lumina-rhiver @writingonjupiter @roselinproductions @no-url-ideas-tho

⚡️Stars and Mirrors - Raw first draft - Chapter Two - part two - The Many Faces of Tsid 🌙

In part one of chapter two, Mica learned that she’s no longer on Earth and that her original body did not survive. She is distraught when she learns that she will never return home again, leaving her friends and family forever.

Oh god, my parents. They’re going to look for me. Forever. They’re going to grow old looking for me.

A numbness crept in.

That’s new.

Numb was perhaps a strange word to use. There was still feeling. Like a buzzing, gnawing. That sensation you get right before something happens. Just.. prolonged. She pinched her skin. Nothing. She curled up with the blankets over her head, blocking out the repulsive yellow lighting. She tried pinching again, but the pain seemed displaced somehow, like watching someone else-- more empathetic and second-hand rather than physical. A storm raged within her, rage, terror, and hysteria just below the surface, unable to break through the hard shell that held it deep inside. She held her trembling arms closer to her body, grip tight on her arms.

Then, like a crack forming in the shell, everything came flooding out. Mica gasped and shuddered. Her heart pounding, a jackhammer in her chest.

I can’t breathe.

Her lips tingled, and her vision grew hazy and dark.

What’s happening to me?

Minutes felt like hours, and Mica had no idea when she regained the ability to breath normally, the episode finally passing. It had exhausted her mentally and physically. Her limbs were heavy and her racing thoughts slowed to a foggy haze. She buried her face into the pillow, slowly falling into a restless sleep.

The next time she woke, Mica could feel a change in the air before she even opened her eyes. Bright lighting peeked through the crack of the slightly open door, and she could hear the sound of hushed voices just outside. Mica recognized Tsid’s right away, but she couldn’t make out what she was saying. The second voice was thin and abrasive; easily deciphered despite obvious attempts to speak quietly.

“-wants you to pick up the pace. We should have left weeks ago.”

Mica leaned forward in her bed, straining to hear Tsid’s replies. The bed creaked, betraying her awakened status, and the two women paused their conversation to enter the room. Tsid was followed by a woman who was every bit as striking as her voice, with messy dark hair cut close to her jaw and piercing eyes under high arched brows. She stared at Mica with a dark, penetrating gaze. The two studied each other in silence.

“Well,�� she said finally, “I hope you’re more cooperative than the brat before you.” She turned abruptly, and stalked out of the room.

Mica sat in stunned silence for a moment. Who does she think she is?

“Bael is still recovering from betrayal, please forgive her,” Tsid shut the door and sat down at the table, patting the seat across from her, “Come, child, we have so much to discuss.”

With no other options, Mica had no choice but to take seat. Her desire for answers overwhelmed her.

“Why am I here?” she asked, before Tsid had a chance to speak.

“Yes, I imagined that would be your next question.” She paused, leaning back, “You have been patient so far.” She seemed to be carefully choosing her words. Mica wished she’d just get on with it.

“I will be blunt with you. This body,” she said, gesturing towards Mica, “possesses a power this is quite unique. These abilities are beyond valuable to my master, and, upon their discovery, Bael asked Cyra for her help, who, of course, ultimately betrayed us. We were lucky, though, and her body was able to be recovered. Unfortunately, her soul had already left. You can see the predicament that left us in; without you, we will suffer setbacks we may never recover from.”

Something about the story felt off. Tsid was withholding information, and Mica couldn’t decide whether she was doing it for the sake of keeping her story short or for deceptive purposes. Either way, she resolved to get her answers.

“Abilities? What abilities?” she asked.

Tsid pulled her chair closer to Mica. She sat, their knees almost touching, and took Mica’s hands into hers, “Tsid will teach you,” she said, her voice suddenly soft and tender. “You, my dear, can give and take Aevym,” she continued, as if Mica should have any clue what that meant. She stared blankly at Tsid, waiting for her to explain.

“Aevym, child,” she said, with a slight air of impatience, “the Amaranthine Aether. The energy that flows through all living things. Many of us can manipulate it, but you,” her grip on Mica’s hands tightened slightly, “you can do so much more.”

Tsid’s hands felt icy cold as she stared into her eyes. Mica briefly wondered if the woman ever slept, ate, or had ever seen the sun at all. Her pale skin was practically glowing, deep purple circles under her pale eyes.

“But I don’t know how,” Mica said, “I don’t even know what that means.” Mica’s heart skipped as a cold look passed over Tsid’s face. It was gone in an instant, but she felt herself stumbling to placate her. “I’ll try, though, I-I promise.”

The intensity in Tsid’s eyes frightened her. The grip on her hands tightened again, her fingers were starting to feel numb.

“You must help us. I warn you, my master will not be so forgiving of betrayal a second time around.” Tsid’s demeanor had changed completely. From warm and gentle to cold and hard. She stood abruptly, staring down at Mica. “I will allow you leave this room tonight. As long as you cooperate, you will continue to have this privilege. The doors at either end of the hall are locked, allowing you access to this hallway only. I suppose the others will be eating soon. You may join them when you are ready.”

Tsid was gone before Mica could reply, leaving her to reflect on their conversation.

What am I supposed to do? I have no reason to trust these people, but I don’t even know where I am. An odd thought occurred to her, Or who I am. I’ve turned into a frightened child, and I’ve still seen no reason to fear them. Or maybe one reason, she thought, remembering her first terrifying moments in this place.

This is bullshit. I want to go home.

Mica didn’t feel hungry, or particularly enthusiastic about meeting more of these assholes. She returned to the bed, deciding to sleep instead. She cleared her mind, becoming aware of an anger that had been bubbling just below the surface. The agitation swelled and grew until she could stand it no longer. Mica tore the sheets off of her and launched herself out of bed.

I need to get out of this stifling room.

She hesitated at the doorway for a moment, and then stepped out into the hall. The air felt slightly cooler. Mica took a deep breath, feeling a little better already. She looked down either end of the hallway. Eight doors, four on either side, including hers, stood slightly open; all but two were dark. She walked down the hall, trying to glance inside the dark rooms, but could see nothing.

“OH NO WAY!” A voice yelled from within one of the rooms, and Mica jumped, startled.

Shaking, she slowly approached.

“What did you expect?” another, slightly husky voice replied.

Mica stood outside the doorway, peaking in. It looked looked like a hospital room, sterile and practically featureless other than the bed and medical equipment. A frail looking woman lay unconscious on the large bed, her arm hooked into an IV, and her head crowned in wires leading to a display on the wall above her.

She could hear low the beeping tone of a heart rate monitor. A young man sat, hunched over the side of the bed. He ran slender fingers through his silvery curls, grabbing them in frustration. A woman, head shaven and slightly stocky, stood behind him with her hand on his shoulder and her back to the door.

“I can’t believe she did it,” the young man in the chair said, looking up at the woman with glassy eyes, his voice thick.He tugged his girls again.

“I hope it was worth it,” she replied, softly. He only nodded.

I feel like I’m intruding.

Mica backed up further into the hallway, bumping into something solid that was not behind her a moment ago. She whirled around, eyes wide. A young man stood before her. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude,” she sputtered. He stared down at her, silent. She had to tilt her head back just to meet his gaze.

“In here,” he said, quietly.

He led her into the second lit room across the hall. She stared at him as they entered. His dark brown, almost black eyes, and black shoulder-length hair seemed so vaguely familiar; another dream-like memory.

The sudden change in scenery took her attention away from the stranger. This is more like it, Mica thought as she stood, looking around.

The lighting in here was softer, glowing from dainty brass lamps. A sturdy table stood in the far corner, in glossy red wood with matching chairs. Floor to ceiling bookshelves, filled to the brim, covered the entire wall on one side. Mica fought the urge to sink and curl up into one of the many plush, over-sized armchairs near the shelves. She inhaled, taking in the comforting scent of the room.

Dusty old books, wood, cigars, and...roses?

She glanced around, finally noticing the bouquet on a small table near one of the armchairs. A sadness washed over her, remembering her mother’s prize-winning roses, as she approached the vase. She reached out to caress the velvety soft petals.

“Do you like them?” the young man’s voice startled her out of her reverie.

She nodded, giving them one last look. The creamy white roses were perfect in every way.

“I made them.” he said, obviously a man of few words.

Made them? “You mean grew them?” she asked.

“Make. Grow. Same thing.”

“Not really,” she laughed airily, surprising herself. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this weird voice.

“For me it is,” he said, showing her his arm. She hadn’t noticed the large wooden cuffs peeking out from under his sleeves. “Watch,” he pulled his sleeves up, exposing the cuffs. They were long, extending from his wrists almost all the way to his elbows, covered in intricate floral designs. He held out his arms, palms up, giving her an expecting look.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for,” she said, looking back up at him. But movement on the bracers caught her eye. The swirling designs began to truly swirl as a single stem grew straight from the wood itself. Taller and taller it grew until it stopped. With a flourish, the stem sprouted leaves and a rosebud, which bloomed right before her eyes.

Mica stared, her mouth hanging open. She reached out, hesitating for a moment. Thorns, leaves, petals… this is the real deal. If she hadn’t watched it grow right out of his cuff, she’d have thought this was grown out of the ground.

“How?” The two locked eyes once more. He looked down at her, amused.

“You’ve never seen anything like this before.” A statement, not a question.

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

He gently tugged the stem, releasing it from his wooden bracer, and handed it to her. Mica accepted the rose, offering him a small smile. She brought it up to her nose, taking in its scent as she paced in front of the bookshelves, studying the titles.

Something odd caught her attention as she gazed at the books. If she stared long enough, it was obvious that they were in an unrecognizable foreign language, but she could comprehend the words as if she’d been reading them her whole life. Mica rubbed her eyes. All of this was making her head hurt. Answers only begged even more questions and she was starting to wonder if it’s possible to go mad from it all. She heaved a huge sigh, finally sinking into one of the armchairs closest to her, and tucked her feet in underneath her, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Where’s the food at? I am fucking famished!” A voice boomed from the doorway as another young man entered the room in a flurry. He dramatically flopped himself down into the chair next to Mica with an exasperated sigh, wasting no time in lighting a fat cigar that hung from his lips. He started, as if noticing Mica for the first time. She recognized him from the other room, the one who sat next the girl in the hospital bed. His demeanor had changed completely.

He let out a low whistle, “Oh what a trip, man. It’s like you’re her but you’re not.” Mica fidgeted uncomfortably as he looked her up and down, leaning forward to get a better look. “Like, you look like her but you don’t hold yourself the same way.”

He looks like a Greek statue. His curly, silver-blonde hair was close cropped, his eyes and skin almost the same exact color. From the side, his profile showed off his prominent jaw and a long flat nose.

He reached his hand out, touching the tips of his fingers to her forehead. “I’m Zak, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Mica,” she replied. She looked up at the other young man, who still stood near his roses, watching her.

“My name is Devvin,” he said, quietly, looking away again.

Silence stretched for a moment, the atmosphere beginning to feel more and more awkward. Finally, a distraction came in the form of Tsid with a platter of sandwiches.

“Come, children, Tsid has nourishment,” she chirped happily.

Zaak rolled his eyes, groaning, “Oh we’re Sweet Tsid today, are we?” he said with a surprising sharpness in his voice. She answered with a glare before turning her attention to Mica.

“Eat up, my dear, you will need plenty of energy for your lessons later,” she said.

Zak, bravely ignoring the glare from before, responded first, “So when that doesn’t work out, what are you going to do?” he said, “Because Aslyn probably won’t be waking up for a long time, and I don’t think she can survive doing that again.” Mica could hear the concern. His attitude is all a show.

“That’s enough,” Tsid barked. The look she gave Zak sent a shiver down Mica’s spine. It was like a stony mask had slipped over her face, making her almost unrecognizable. “Take your sandwich and go to your room,” she said to Mica, with a look as cold as ice.

Mica was more than happy to slip away.

♥♥♥ That’s it! Thanks for reading! ♥♥♥

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #amwriting #writers #fantasy fiction #stars and mirrors project #holy crap #this was so long #i'm so sorry omg #sometimes the keep reading line disappears on mobile #and I'm sorry about that too #omg

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ambivalentangst · 7 years ago

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At Length, He Smiles

My part of an impromptu exchange with @taylor-tut, who prompted me with “something where Tony starts to get a migraine and tries to send Peter home very suddenly and without explanation and they argue about it until it hits full force and tony is Suffering™? :O” to which I agreed to write in the creation of my first Marvel fic. I hope you like it beef mom!!

tw: referenced previous bodily harm

Tony, as much as he liked to pretend he was with his kid---not his kid, really, but he might as well have been for how much Tony agonized over keeping him safe---was not fine. Sure, he could sip drinks with umbrellas in them at parties when Peter called and act suave, but at the end of the day, he had a shit load of work to get done. Happy could only take care of so much, after all, and he’d been especially worried ever since there was that incident with the new Stark building and the big bastard with wings who had taken it upon himself to try to kill a fifteen-year-old.

Peter didn’t need to know just how much he’d donated to see that when he went on trial, the man was put up against the best lawyers money could buy.

So, Tony felt bad because his kid had kind of almost died---the fact kept Tony up at night, but he tried not to show in front of Peter just how badly he’d scared him---and invited him to the lab. The only problem was that he’d had calls coming in left and right about how some place in South Korea had been razed to the ground by some lunatics with a spear (not Tony’s personal style, but the woman had apparently done some damage and he was grudgingly impressed). The problem for him was that the place was loaded with Stark technology that Tony had previously believed and advertised as infallible, and it hadn’t done shit.

He’d had people yelling at him all day, and as much as he enjoyed being a role model for Peter---who followed him around with stars in his eyes as he showed him everything he had in the works---he was five seconds and one more snippy phone call away from losing it, and he couldn’t handle it anymore. Peter was in awe behind him, chattering away about what he might be able to add to things when Tony spun, brow creased in pain and general exhaustion.

“Peter, why don’t you head home for the day?” Peter stared at him owlishly, confused.

“What?” Tony sighed, placing his hands on his shoulders. He wasn’t exactly great at being a role model (he wavered between being mad or just disappointed, and in his opinion, the kid did enough life endangering stuff to have that be deserved), but the little quirks he’d picked up with him around at least made him hope that he could try.

“This today just isn’t really working for me,” he repeated, slower. “So you,” he steered him towards the door, “Have to go. I’ll call Happy up to show you out in a minute.” His headache was building in the space between his eyes, picking up speed and turning from a leisurely and irritating throb to a more splitting pain.

As much as he liked Peter, he could be a handful.

“Woah woah woah, I told May that I wouldn’t be home tonight, ‘cause you said I could sleep over!” Tony frowned, fighting the urge to be overly brusque with him. He had made promises to Peter, he couldn’t exactly say that his anger was undeserved.

“You can still stay in your room.” He might’ve turned down the opportunity to be an Avenger, but Tony had kept the space readied for occasions such as this. Peter’s eyes looked from him to the lab. Tony felt a pang of guilt, overpowering his aching head for a moment, but Peter’s mouth screwed up angrily.

“It’s not about the room, Mr. Stark. It’s just that I was looking forward to this.”

Tony was a little too tired to decipher what he meant. “This?”

“Seeing what you do, asking me what I would do to improve it. You always treat me like I’m some kid, and now you’re finally asking me for my input, and won’t even see it through to the end!” Tony immediately came up with a bad response to that, but frankly, he didn’t care what he said at the moment as long as it got the kid out of his hair and he could go get some Advil or something for his damn headache. It was growing into something akin to a physical force, a wall meant to block out the world that was steadily getting less tolerable the longer Peter hurled truths at him he didn’t have the energy to own up to.

“Listen, kid, it’s not that I don’t care what you have to say, but right now is a bad time for me to care about it,” Tony groused, and Peter rightfully bristled more at that.

“Do you ever? I let you fly me all the way to Germany at random, nearly died more than once trying to prove myself, and aside from that dumb little test with the new suit, you never stop and ask me what I want!” Tony knew the kid had enjoyed just about every second of the fight, but it didn’t stop him from remembering the panic and desperation he felt in every movement of his flailing limbs before he’d realized that he wasn’t being hurt. Something in Tony was bending, one more dol of the pressure building in him liable to make him snap. He stared at Peter’s knitted brows and flushed cheeks a moment longer before deflating all at once.

Peter, whether it was from the odd sixth (spidey, Tony called it, when he was in the mood to tease) sense he had about things, or just plain right brain power at work softened.

“Mr. Stark?” Tony stared at him, and for a moment forgot that he was supposed to be firing back quick deflections and retorts that would leave Peter fuming, but put in his place. It really had been a bad day, and the fact that he felt like someone was taking a jackhammer to his skull didn’t help.

“Some Advil, please,” he called out, whether to Peter or the tech he’d made, he didn’t care as long as the medicine got to him. The pills arrived, and he swallowed them down dry with a faint grimace, settling himself on the floor to breathe. Peter was uncharacteristically quiet, the only sound the hum of the machinery surrounding them. Slowly the pain was fading, but Tony knew thinking about everything that he still had to do would make it come back in an instant. He tried to focus on the light shaking of Peter’s leg instead, a constant he could zero in on while letting the rest of the world fade. That worked for a little, and then came Peter’s voice, bashful, apologetic.

“Sorry for yelling, Mr. Stark.” Tony dropped his head for a second, before sliding his eyes over to him. His cheeks were still red, but out of embarrassment now, if Tony had to hazard any sort of guess.

“It’s fine, kid. You’re right, anyway. I have an event next Friday, but how about the one after that? Same plan that we were supposed to follow today.” Peter lit up, though did his best to hide it with a quick nod.

“If it’s not too much trouble, Mr. Stark,” he told him, and Tony supposed that as he mussed Peter’s hair and the kid complained, time could always be salvaged if it made Peter smile.

#peter parker #tony stark #peter and tony #spider man #iron man #ambivalentlangst #not voltron #ambi exchanges

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artificialqueens · 7 years ago

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Dragometry Circa 1979 ~ Hobnob

AN: Ive been doing very successful things in 6th form and I’m a very successful student. As such i dropped english lit and took art instead. my passion for writing left me, but came back when i was looking at my dog sleep. He looked soft and i thought if he can do it, so can i. My friend mentioned in art how she ate a shroom once, and she forgot who she was for a bit and had a panic attack. I thought that sounded wicked and I wanted to embody that in this fic. Thanks Sarah

~Hobnob

Chi Chi dipped her hands in her pockets and turned them inside out. Alas, there was no cash to be found. Only some dead flies and a used condom.

Just her luck. She had no way of paying the rent and it was due in tomorrow! She continued to walk down the streets of Camden disappointedly.

Just then her train of thought was broken by the local newsboy.

“Extra extra! Read all about it! Daily mail halfa shilling!” Little Bendela yelled in his school uniform.

Chi Chi approached him but in a non predatory way because she didn’t mess around with little kids like that.

“What’s in the news today little boy?” She asked, spitting on the floor.

“Im 26 ma'am” He answered in a cockney tone, his little red cheeks growing hot with rage.

“You’ll use no such tone with me boy!” Chi Chi said slapping the twat. “I’ll have a paper please.”

Little boy Bendelacreme sobbed and handed over the paper. Chi Chi opened it up and could barely believe what she was seeing.

“Blimey! A battle of the bands today with a cash prize of 100,000 quid!!” She exclaimed dropping into a perfect split in joy.

“Oo aye right you are mista! Down at the old theatre where all those donkeys were found!” Bendela added.

An idea formed in Chi Chi’s mind. The amount of rent she had to pay happened to be exactly 100,000 pounds conveniently enough.

“You know what? I’m going to enter!”

Ben began bursting into laughter as his little round face lit up with glee. “Oho thats a gaff if i ever did hear one! Everyone knows ur tone deaf miss Devayne, ever since you exploded that donkey.” He chuckled, wiping away a salty tear.

“Shut the fuck up.” Chi Chi said, slapping the cunt again to put him in his place. “You’ll speak when told to boy.”

“Even if you wanted to enta miss Devayne, yous need three or more band members. You know, like the Beatles and such.” Ben said whilst on the floor in agony clasping his face.

“Three or more members hm?” She said, scratching her stubble. “Fancy joining my band?”

“No can do, i gots to sell all these papers or my mum won’t let me in the house. Good luck miss.” He responded, already halfway down the street in fear of getting another beating. Silly silly little boy.

“UR MUMS A FILTHY SKETT GET BACK HERE.” Chi Chi shouted at him as he ran. It was no use. He was gone faster than Lance Armstrong on steroids.

Even Bendelacreme being a little batty crease couldn’t dampen her mood at this point. She was ready to win that battle of the bands with a total bop of a song.

She would create the next Oasis, the next Blur, the next Smashmouth.

But first she needed bandmates…

Just then she spotted Britney Spears vouging down the street looking like a complete plebb. It was better than nothing.

“Oi Britney! Yeah get over here!”

“My names Derrick” the blonde said, making her way over.

“Want to be in my band?”

“Lol Sure”

Disgusting. She was perfect. She wasn’t visibly on any heroin, and had shopping bags from tesco, so she wasn’t on benefits either.

“Sick, you’re going to play synth.”

“Like fuck i am.” Derrick said, embroiled with rage. “I was classically trained on the guitar.”

Chi Chi raised her mighty hand in slapping formation to Derrick. She needed to be taught some manners.

“YOULL PLAY syNTH WANKSTAIN.”

Derrick nodded before snatching the paper for herself. There it was. Right next to the article about the Piers Morgan donkey scandal. In big bold comic sans spelt ‘Battle of the bands.’

“Fat chance of us entering with two members.” Derrick roared.

“I’m working on it ffs get off my back.” Chi Chi screamed.

Just then she felt her tummy rumble. It was a deep and low rumble, akin to that of a barking dog, or even perhaps even a bin lorry driving by in the early hours of the morning.

Yes, Chi cHi was hungry. But she didn’t have any money. She spent her last paycheck on a lotto ticket.

“Let’s discuss this over a hearty Nando’s shall we?” she said, slapping Derrick on her manly toned back. “You’re paying.”

Derrick threw the paper to the floor. “I can’t pay. I spent all my money on Xanax and Tesco’s. All i got is a quid.”

She was right. A quid isn’t Nando’s money. Its Pick and Mix money at best. She’d just have to think of something fast.

“Lets beg like in oliver twist.” Chi Chi suggested. Derrick seemed to agree, but maybe that was because she threatened to beat her up earlier.

Just then Chi Chi set her eyes on someone walking down the street. Quick as a monkeynut with a jackhammer she made her way over to the individual and held out her hands.

“Please sir, can i ave’ some more?” Chi Chi said sadly, some eye infection goo coming out of her eyes instead of tears.

The individual looked confused for a moment, then got a ladle of porridge from her handbag and dropped it wetly into her hands.

“What the fuck it this. I didn’t want porridge did i, I wanted some money or something.”

“Oh sorry lol” the stranger offered taking back the porridge for later. “I don’t own any money at the moment. Teresa May and all.”

Chi Chi nodded agreeingly. “In that case do you want to join our band?”

The stranger nodded and sealed the deal with a wicked fistbump.

“My names Naysha Lopez. Synth extrordanair.”

“Your going to be on synth.”

“Well yes i just said-”

Chi Chi slapped her hard in the face in a fit of fury. Her word was law. She was the big dog.

“Aight we’re ready to rock. Let’s go back to my place.”

Derrick and Naysha nodded, getting into her 2003 Volkswagen that Chi Chi won in a game of chess.

The van was full of hippy shit. Fuckugly tie dye shirts, 42 vinyl albums of the Stone Roses, and a massive bong full of old weedwater.

“First we need to get our looks right.” Derrick suggested, taking out a large pair of scissors and hacking at her hair.

“And what we’re going to play.” Naysha added, beating out a mad eurobeat synth solo.

“Lads.” Chi Chi stopped them both, raising her hands. “Its not about how you look or sound.” She said sincerely, patting Derrick on the shoulder. “It’s about how much acid you take.”

She took out a small plastic bag with three tabs of acid, passing them out. They each popped the paper on their tongues and felt it dissolve.

“Alright now we’ve done that we should really figure out what we’re going to play.” Naysha said, picking the synth back up.

“How about we theme the song around the hardships of love.” Derrick said, sitting on a beanbag surrounded by her own hair.

“We-lets…lets wait like…half an hour. you’ll have better ideas.” Chi Chi added, taking a massive rip out of the dirty bong.

Half an hour later after hotboxing the camper van Chi Chi looked at her Casio sports watch.

“Oh dude the battle of the bands is in half an hour.”

“Shiit” Derrick said, her jaw hanging slack. “So what about if we came out on the stage in-in like picture this. We come out in geometrical shape costumes.”

“Yeah like Dragometry.” Naysha added, unable to move her head.

“Oh yeah meta..” Derrick nodded, writing it down, except the pen she was using was a cheese string and there was no paper.

“I have some old Capri Sun multi pack boxes in the back, let’s go out completely naked covered in those.” Chi Chi said, snapping her fingers.

Everyone clapped for the sheer excellence of that very notion. Around ten minutes later they were all naked and covered in Capri Sun boxes.

“Oh man.” Derrick said poking Nayshas body that was now unconscious on the floor. “Nayshas passed out and the battle of the bands is in like 20 minutes.”

“Yeah just like…” Chi Chi rubbed her finger over Derricks mouth in a shushing motion. “Just like i saw in um…nature shows, you pour water in their mouths and they’re fine…so…”

Derrick nodded taking a half empty Capri Sun and pouring it into Nayshas mouth. It began to bubble as Naysha hacked and coughed it out.

“Aaah there she is. Party animal.” Chi Chi laughed. “Alright let’s write a song.”

“I was thinking, we sing about the shapes we are, and sing about societal struggles and riots in london and an unfair corrupt justice system.” Naysha said swallowing the gargled Capri Sun and getting off the floor.

“I’m liking the first bit, like shapes and shit.” Chi Chi said, igniting the engine of the car and speeding away. “Were probably ready i think lets go perform.”

“You just hit a little boy selling papers back there.”

“Nah dude ur tripping.” Chin Chin said turning on the windshield whispers to get the blood off.

When they finally arrived after driving down the A38 the battle of the bands was underway. The entrance was bustling with people eager to see the peformances.

As the trio made their way through the crowd they got some funny looks, but maybe because they were wearing cardboard boxes and were sticky from Capri Sun juice.

Once they got to the bouncer he stopped them from getting through with a grunt.

“Oi leds, restricted area, bands only.” He said in a thick nothern tone.

“Oh? Haven’t you heard?” Chi Chi spoke confidently, her eyes facing different directions due to all the acid. “We’re the new band on the block!”

The bouncer simply shook his head.

“Oive never seen yous before. Whatre you’re names?”

They all pondered for a second before Naysha snapped her fingers.

“We’re Dragometry, the geometric power trio unsatisfied with social injustice.” She said proudly burping halfway through her sentence.

The bouncer looked stunned for a moment before nodding. “Meta…” he said letting them all through.

When they got inside they could scope out the competition. It seems the entirety of Camdens music scene had gathered to win that 100,000 quid.

As they made their way inwards they were stopped by a group of angry looking new yorkers.

“Oh looky here lads, what do we gots.” One of them said, cracking their knuckles.

“Looks likea buncha whimps to me!” Another one said snickering.

Naysha burst out in tears. Chi Chi had to do something for the credibility of her band!

“We’re only the greatest musicians since Cher Loyd.” She retorted with her quick drug induced whit. “Who are you?”

The three new Yorkers struck a dynamic pose and exclaimed in unison.

“We are Street Meats! Betty, Bob and Thorgy!!!”

“Gay.” Derrick said, picking some broccoli out of her teeth.

“Alright well, later lads.” Chi Chi said, pushing past the entitled fuckers. Bloody Americans.

“Not so fast!!” Bob said, grabbing her by the shoulders. “This is our turf, see? And we don’t take too kindly to people trying to get our 100,00 dollars!”

“Fuck i left the engine on.” Chi Chi said, turning to Naysha.

“We have a little bet to propose.” Thorgy said, taking out a hostage from her guitar case. “Win and we’ll leave forever. Loose…and we’ll kill this hostage.”

Derrick poked the hostage in the belly and scratched her stubble in consideration.

“Mmmmmm” She said, thinking hard. “…N-…..n…..hmmmmm. No.”

“Oh?” Acid betty said chuckling manically. “Did we forget to mention the hostage happens to be…THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND?”

“SHIIIT” Chi Chi bawled, sobbing into her hands.

“C-challenge accepted.” Naysha said, her eyes beginning to well up. “Don’t worry your majesty…we’ll get you out of this…” she said holding the queens wrinkled hands.

“Oi thanks lads.” The queen responded. Adjusting the crown on her head.

Just like that Thorgy stuffed her back in his guitar case and threw it into the coat room.

“Good luck ladies.” Bob chuckled, fist bumping Acid Betty as they walked away.

Things had just gotten serious. Now the common wealth was in their hands. Chi Chi felt sick.

“What are we going to do?” Derrick cried. His hands were shaking.

She took a deep breath and stood up straight, adjusting her cardboard box.

“I’ll tell you exactly what we’re going to do. We’re going to win this fucking battle of the bands, and then we’re going to be knighted by the queen of England, thats what we’re going to do.” Chi Chi said in a confident voice.

With newfound confidence the trio patted each-other on their naked sweaty backs. The first band had just begun to play. Les Chicken Wings they called themselves.

They were pretty sick ngl. A bit like The Clash but with cross dressers.

“BUY OUR VYNIL IN THE BACK.” The lead vocalist screamed once the band finished up. Chi Chi turned around and there stood Little boy Bendelacreme selling vinyls!

“Oh shit what happened to you.” She asked, grimacing at his horribly mangled body.

“I was left disfigured when you ran me over earlier. Would you like to buy a vinyl?” He said, holding out a disk in his bloodied hands.

Chi Chi flicked a shilling in his direction and took one.

“Lighten up miss Chi Chi! You look awful nervous.”

“I suppose you could say that.” She admitted, looking at the floor and shuffling her feet.

“Wotts wrong?”

“Well i managed to get a band together but instead of practicing we went back to my van and took acid so now we’re wearing cardboard boxes and we don’t have a song to perform, and if we fuck up the queen of England dies.”

“Hmmm, i think i saw this on an episode of friends once!” Ben said cheerily, his broken bones making a crunching noise as he smiled. “Joey told Chandler to believe in himself, and everything turned out aight.”

Chi Chi nodded. “Yeah.” She said under her breath.

She just needed to believe in herself. She had the music in her. If she didn’t give up she’d win the battle of the bands for sure.

“Thats right Chi Chi, believe in yourself.” A mystery voice said. She looked up.

Bloody hell! It was the Beatles! Here to perform for the whole of Camden!

“John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Ringo Starr, What are you doing here?” She said excitedly.

“We’re here to tell you to never give up.” John said in a liverpoolian accent.

“Yeah, you can do it.” Ringo said, smiling.

“Thanks the Beatles! I won’t let you down!”

“Yeah, its like we say in Yellow Submarine, “Rah, rah, ah, ah, ah, roma, roma, ma. Gaga, ooh, la, la… want your bad romance.” Paul added, patting Chi Chi on the shoulder.

“Now go out there and sing! Sing like the commonwealth depends on it!” George said inspiringly.

Chi Chi was ready. She heard somebody call them to the stage. Grabbing her synth she felt her fingers trembling.

Showtime.

She looked at her bandmates.

Derrick was holding the synth upside down.

Nayshas costume had fallen off do she was completely naked.

They were ready.

They each played the opening chords and leaned into the microphones.

“We are the girls of Dragometry. All shapes and sizes are what we bring” Each of them sang in harmony, feeling the rhythm and LSD run through their veins.

“Rectangle girls of the world” they yelled, feeling their metaphorical oats.

“Around every girl, in a circle I run You can be square, hon, but don’t be a nun” Naysha said into the mic, shining like the star she was.

“We just wanna celebrate. No matter the size, no matter the shape!”

The rest of the performance went pretty stellar in Chi Chis opinion. She came up with a particularly good line about being a bumblebee, and Derrick was bopping out like it was nobodies business.

The performance concluded.

Silence filled the room.

There was a moments pause as the audience was stunned. It was as if the spirit of Freddy Mercury had possessed them all on stage and caused them to create the single most amazing tune in the world.

“You guys suck wang!!” A member of the audience shouted, as the crowd began to boo.

What?

The booing continued. How could that be? They created a total bop!

“Hey look! Their music killed John Lennon!” Another audience member yelled.

Chi Chi looked over to a very dead John foaming at the mouth twitching on the floor.

“They killed a member of the Beatles. Kill them! Blood for blood!!!” The crowd yelled, throwing empty bottles at Kopparberg at the trio.

They dodged the bottles and swiftly ran backstage and sighed together.

“I don’t get it. I thought that went well.” Chi Chi said sadly, throwing her cardboard box to the ground in defeat.

“I thought my stepford wife line was sick.” Derrick said sadly.

“I did too! And that circle thing Naysha said was totally tubular.” Chi Chi agreed.

They all sat down on the floor waiting for their inevitable demise. The audience would find a way backstage and shank them all to death for sure. Plus the Queen of England was probably going to die, and they lost the bet against Street Meats.

Soon enough they all heard banging on the door and angry yells. This was the end.

“It was good doing acid with the two of you.” Chi Chi said, holding both their hands.

“Yeah, thanks for seeing past the fact i look like Britney spears.” Derrick replied, squeezing her hand.

“And thanks for saving me earlier when i was passed out.” Naysha smiled sadly, still fully naked.

They all sat together and accepted their fate.

Just before they were mobbed by angry fans, a woman appeared in front of them.

Jesus! It was Debby Harry!

“Hey buckos” she said lighting a ciggy.

“Blondie? What are you doing here?” Chi Chi gasped, standing up in shock.

“I’m here to tell you to never give up fuckheads. That performance out there was absolutely shocking, but you still have a chance at saving the Queen.”

They all looked at their feet sadly.

“It’s no use world famous singer Debby Harry, if we go out there, we’ll be killed.” Naysha cried, wiping away some eye infection goo.

Debby slapped her hard in the face.

“You know. I used to go out on stage off my tits on LSD, stumbling around, saying nonsense about bumblebees. But i never gave up. Soon i moved on to singing about hearts of glass and it was lit. Everybody loved it.” Debby said with wisdom and a knowing look.

“Get out there and give them an encore they’ll never bloody forget!!”

Filled with newfound confidence the trio cheered and high fived. Blondie had given them the courage to go back out there.

They got back on stage and Chi Chi grabbed a mic.

“There they are!!” An angry hipster yelled.

“Kill them!” Another roared.

“Wait wait.” Chi Chi hushed them, raising her hands. “You see those people over there?” She continued, pointing over to Street Meats who were leaning against the wall eating mini sausage rolls.

“They have the Queen of England in their guitar case!!” Naysha said as Street Meats started to look panicked. “They said they would kill her if we didn’t win!”

The crowds attention turned from Dragometry to Bob Acid and Thorgy. They circled the guitar case slowly.

“Look- we can explain.” Bob began, backing away.

But it was too late. They unzipped the case and the Queen fell out. She got up and looked around.

“Wait a minute…” an audience member said, leaning in to examine her face. “This isn’t the Queen!!!”

Muttering and mumbles erupted in the room as somebody moved forward and pulled off the queens wig and crown.

“Jesus christ!! It’s Bono!!”

Bono escaped through the door like a startled deer into the woods. Fuck.

“Nobody cares about Bono. GET DRAGOMETRY!!”

Another bottle was thrown at Chi Chi, then another. The last thing she remembered was Paul McCartney hitting her directly in the forehead with a bottle of Carling.

Then complete blackness.

A few hours pass.

She feels comfort under her heavy body.

And a sharp pain in her forehead.

As Chi Chi opens her eyes she’s greeted to Little boy Bendelacreme in a well lit room with white walls.

“Ben??” She says weakly. “Where am i?”

“Ayup miss Devayne! Your in hospital. Bottle got you in the head i say. Right in the noggin.”

Chi Chi was confused. She turned her head and saw the three remaining Beatles standing over her bed looking apologetic.

“Yeah, sorry Chi Chi, we shouldn’t of lashed out like that.” Ringo said, his massive nose drooping with sadness.

“But i killed John.” Chi Chi said sadly.

“Nah, it was a drug overdose. Nothing to do with you at all!”

They all laughed together in unison. What a funny coincidence!

But Chi Chi couldn’t hear the laugh of her two best friends, Derrick and Naysha. She frowned again, rubbing her forehead. She feared the worst

“Where are my bandmates?” She asked, almost scared to get a response.

Bendelacreme took of his hat and held it to his chest, looking down to the floor.

“No idea I’m afraid.” George admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe they…managed to escape.”

Chi Chi liked that idea…but no. Her friends were gone. Probably trampled to death. She felt a great gap in her heart where her two best friends in the world used to be.

But for now, she was just grateful to be alive in a warm hospital bed, knowing that the Queen of England was completely safe.

She remembered what Naysha said at the end of their number.

Thank you, thank you.

Be different.

love yourself.

Love yourself.

#hobnob #chi chi devayne #naysha lopez #derrick barry #bob the drag queen #thorgy thor #acid betty #bendelacreme #rpdr fanfiction #submission #crack fic #s8

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