#I only intend to get items I can actually safely use for things (they're only unsafe if you're eating out of them really)

[ashton-slashton]

My collection grows...

[Feat. a selfie indicating why I have started the collection]

[vaspider]

I know that the above is a shitty, bad-faith response, but let's pretend that these are serious questions and answer them like you actually give a fuck about the concerns of disabled people:

1. Why are you purchasing beer?

Because I live with 3 people who can drink it, and I host people at my house who can drink it. Because beer cans shouldn't be a source of cross-contamination I need to worry about. And, get this: this product is expressly intended to be used industry-wide, by companies which also produce things like cider, which is usually safe for celiacs to drink. The creators say they hope this is adopted industry-wide, which would include not just cider, but actual gluten-free beer, which does exist.

2. Why are you drinking out of the beer cooler?

Because up until this point, there's been no reason to worry that there would be cross-contamination from the drinks cooler, so if I wanted to put my sodas in the cooler with the beer, it's not a big deal. People don't normally, you know, pour their fucking beer into the water/ice in the cooler, so normally putting those cans in the cooler would be relatively safe.

3. Why are you upset you can't eat the holder?

I'm not upset I can't eat the holder. I'm upset that it isn't required to declare these things so that I can make a decision about my health appropriately. Right now, in the US, companies aren't required to tell us about changes like this, so we don't have the information we need to be able to make informed decisions about our food.

Gluten cross-contamination occurs with extremely small amounts of gluten, and gluten permeates plastic and other permeable surfaces, making them permanently unsafe. Putting a biodegradable item made of poison, or the residue of that item, unknowingly into a plastic cooler full of water means I've just ruined that container for my safe use forever. And if I don't KNOW ABOUT IT, I can't make an informed decision and protect my health.

It's also extremely short-sighted to say "they're only using this for beer," while not recognizing that gluten-free beer exists, that cider is often made by the same manufacturers (who aren't thinking about whether or not this makes celiacs unsafe), and not recognizing that the issue is that these things are undeclared and that the law in the US doesn't require them to be declared.

I'm excited for the possibilities of this for people who can have these things near them. I'm also upset by the fact that these materials are not required to be declared in situations where they are very clearly in a food preparation situation, and that this is a very common problem. The proliferation of paper straws made with undeclared wheat byproducts, of compostable forks made of undeclared compressed barley, and other things like that made out of undeclared common fucking allergens whose presence can kill people quick or slow, means that now I have to be eternally on my guard and treat every food-related formerly-plastic thing marked as "compostable" as if it might send me to bed for three days of crying while my joints burn and I shit myself for hours. And, you know, while people like you talk about me like I'm a fucking animal.

The reason why we don't go to Tractor Supply and complain about horse feed, but this is a problem, is because

I'M NOT A FUCKING HORSE, YOU WEEPING ANAL PUSTULE.

Tractor Supply isn't putting undeclared barley all over HUMAN FOOD CONTAINERS and then yelling at the top of its caps lock at me about it. If this is clearly declared, I can make different choices - I can buy beer in a case for my non-celiac family and guests, I could buy beer in glass bottles instead. I can choose beer which isn't processed or bottled in the same facility with that beer for my guests. I can buy cider which isn't covered with microscopic amounts of two of the most common allergies.

Are you gonna all-caps at me if I'm in my wheelchair and don't like not knowing about a set of stairs so that I can plan to go around it or just not buy tickets to an event in an inaccessible building next, you soggy dog biscuit? Are you gonna all-caps at someone with epilepsy for being upset about undeclared flashing lights in a video next, you brillo thong of a human being?

The presence of undeclared allergens in food-adjacent items, toiletries, and medications in the United States is a fucking problem, and the fact that people like you feel like it's appropriate to virtually scream at disabled people for being concerned about things that can hurt or kill us, well.

I wish I could be surprised, but I'm not, because celiac isn't actually treated like a disability by most people, even though in the eyes of the ADA it is exactly the same legally as being blind, as requiring a wheelchair. It's a fucking disability, but it doesn't get treated that way. Gluten-free food is a fucking punchline. People have deliberately contaminated my food. All that we want is to fucking know about these things so that we can make appropriate decisions about our health and our lives.

But, you know, you could also just behave like this instead, you fucking sandpaper tampon. You could compare disabled people to fucking animals and spend 4 paragraphs all-capsing at, again, disabled people, who have to deal all the fucking time with behavior like yours and with the proliferation of ✨️undeclared✨️ wheat and barley in ✨️fucking food containers✨️, you moldy jock strap. You could do that. That's a choice you could make.

That would be a true asshole maneuver, but, you know, that's a choice you could make, just like the choice I could make to buy beer in a different container or fashion in order to allow my family and guests to drink what I can't while still keeping myself safe.

We all make choices, right? You ... just... made this one.

Asshole.

[micharedmc]

DMC OC Lily's adopted dads headcanons/lore PART TWO:

Headcanons continued! -Farin is dual-gendered! That's right, intersex but identifies as a male, he carries both sets of what's-in-his-pants. Despite identifying as male, he told Lily that he did not care whether she wanted to call him mom or dad because he's technically both! Unfortunately, I am as cruel here as I was with Sydney. Prior to their (unplanned, but happy) adoption of Lily, Farin had wanted to have his own little spawns with Mandrake but could never conceive because Mundus, as torture due to Farin's/Inferno's continued rebellious behaviour, damaged his womb heavily (don't ask why his womb specifically, it's Mundus, he's a bitch and I needed angst). It devastated him, to the point once they had escaped Mundus' clutches, he fell into a state of deep depression and never left the nest he built for 4 months. Mandrake had to physically drag him out one day so they could start demon-hunting as a side job to protect the little countryside village they lived near to. (im so sorry Farin, you deserve better, I love you, maybe one day i'll bring you back and fix your womb.) -Due to being intersex and despite his current lack of fertility, Farin still gets his period. When Lily got her first period, he opened up about his gender and taught her how to deal with her period, how to deal with cramps, and it's around this time where they bond the most as he often uses his demon form to build a large nest and keep her close and comfortable. It is only during their period times where Lily refers to him, jokingly, as 'mom', and he takes it in stride, feeling prideful, because he too sees her wholeheartedly as his own child. It's in moments like these where he can forget he can't birth his own kids, because she is there.

-Typical of dragons/draconic demons, the two have a large home in which they store their treasured items (weapons, trophies of their most difficult kills, expensive items that mean something to 'em) and they build nests nearly everywhere when feeling particularly in need of them. Due to Farin's dual-gender situation, he builds nest more than Mandrake to satisfy his maternal/paternal instincts. -Farin felt proud when he found Lily in her first nest as a kid. She didn't feel similar instincts to him but she enjoyed whenever he'd build one and they cuddled in it to the point she copied him whenever she felt in particular need for comfort. He found her first nest one night when he entered her room to wish her goodnight, and she had build a large circled nest in the middle of her bed, curled up in it with her tail tucked behind her and all her plush animals inside it with her. -Mandrake was the one who taught Lily how to start fighting at 13, and was the one who actually blessed her with the Katana she uses to this day to fight demons. He hadn't intended for her to live a demon-hunter lifestyle, as he knew the stresses and dangers of it, he just wanted her to be safe in case anything happened to him and her dad (foreshadowing but smart moves, papa). -Being demons, the two dads taught Lily to accept every quirk or 'flaw' that came with having demon blood. Lily couldn't contain her tail until she was 13, which irritated her as until she had some control over it, she often knocked things over or accidentally knicked her dad's with the sharp end of her tail. -Mandrake and Farin disappeared like Sparda and it is unknown (to Lily) of where they are. They disappeared 5 months prior to DMC4's timeline and continued to be missing through the events of DMC5. As the creator of these two though, I can tell y'all that they ARE alive, they were just enslaved in the Underworld again after a devil-hunting mission gone wrong and have been unable to escape. I'm torn between having them saved by Dante and Vergil since yk they're down there dealing with Qliphoth roots and could come across rthem or I could have Lily go to the Underworld to search for them or have them break out due to a Qliphoth root breaking their prison or something but yk, we'll see how the dice roll in the future!

[saphirered]

Ah I just read like 5 of your head cannons they're amazing! Could you write about the M9 reacting to a fighter s/o using magic for the fist time, and the s/o explaining that they haven't used it cause it scares them?

Thank you so much ☺️! It turned out a bit longer than I intended but more content is good right? I tried to get some variety in the types of magic users to kudos to anyone who figures out the (sub)classes. Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy this one 😘

Caleb:

Caleb, observant as he is caught on the fact you had more knowledge of the arcane than you let people believe. You knew things someone not schooled in some kind of magic wouldn’t have the faintest clue about. It may have left him a bit suspicious of you in the beginning but over time he saw no malicious intent or a connection to the people he’d rather distance himself from.

The first time Caleb noticed you cast a spell, you spoke the familiar words combined with the motions to deflect a hit from an enemy mid battle that otherwise might have been the death of you. You thought no one had noticed but Caleb had, and he recognised the shield spell you used. He saw you flinch the moment you cast it and fear in your eyes as if you were waiting for an aftermath. It never came but you were on edge for the next few hours.

Approaching you after noticing you were still on edge, nervously fidgeting with a coin in your hand to get rid of the more obvious jitters, you denied all claims. If Caleb is good at anything it’s providing a verbal slap in the face through reality check and calling out your bullshit. He wouldn’t press for answers because your past is your past and he had no right to demand it if you were not willingly offering it.

It took you some time but you came clean. You told him how your relationship with practical magics is destructive and hurts people. Because of that you vowed to distance yourself from magic altogether but sometimes you slip and hope no one notices and no ill effects follow you casting any spell. Caleb understands, better than anyone perhaps. He admires your restraint and capability of stepping away from the thing that causes you so much pain; something he never could.

If you’re able to and with your consent Caleb would help you work through your fears, only for your own wellbeing because one thing is undeniable; your magic is part of you and if you never learn to live with it, that it is part of you, you might never be able to accept it. What happens when you’re unable to fear the magic? Will you instead turn to fear yourself like he had himself for so long? No, if he can spare you a fate like that he’d do anything.

Beau:

You never hid the fact you were schooled in the arcane. It just never clicked you are actually a very capable spellcaster especially donned in battle worn armour and your tastes for sharp edged pointy things, and a ‘will cut a bitch’ attitude whenever someone comes for you or those close to you.

Perhaps a little ashamed to admit the first time Beau actually saw you cast a spell it was a simple mage hand cantrip. You couldn’t reach a book on a high shelf at the Archive and you thought it disrespectful to physically climb the bookcases to get it. Beau may or may not have been watching you, more like admiring your muscle. Nothing better than a strong, gorgeous ripped bookworm. Mouth agape you caught Beau staring. You had to snap her out of it. Beau had a million questions, maybe half of them flirty. You answered her questions best you could, even the flirty ones but when it got to where you learned magic you sort of just shut down so she dropped the subject. Beau knows how to read the room no matter how much she might want to press for answers. She’ll refrain. For now.

This doesn’t mean Beau drops the subject entirely for all future reference though. She’d leave hooks for you in case you’d be in a more talkative mood and grow frustrated when you ignored or brushed off the so-many-eth attempt to get you to spill some beans. One day she sat you down, giving you one more chance to tell her what’s going on. If you wanted to tell her, you could. If not, she’d never ask again or try to get you to talk about it.

That’s when you broke down, explaining all the terrible memories of your ‘studies’. You were the only child in a long line of powerful mages to barely be able to cast a cantrip growing up. You were a disappointment and disgrace to your family. Rigorous hours practicing and studying from dawn til dusk without breaks. Not being allowed to go outside and play with friends until you got this one thing right. Nevermind the fact that your family let it be known you were a disappointment.

You’d been working hard already to break the circle but couldn’t prevent the bad memories haunting you every time you felt like you had to cast a spell. No matter how far you ran, whenever you reached for the components, spoke the words or performed the somatics, you were hit with a sense of incompetence. Beau’s not unfamiliar to the need of living up to the expectations of family. She’d be there for you if you wanted to take up magic on your own terms or distance yourself from magic entirely.

Fjord:

Didn’t have a single clue you were magically inclined. But to be fair you never gave anyone a reason to believe you were. You were born with magic and you had seen what developing those abilities had done to others like you. You like yourself the way you are and would very much prefer not to fall into the servitude of some evil entity in the hunger for more power.

You’d seen Fjord spiral into the clutches of his patron and saw him struggle to get away from the leviathan. Ritualistically you tapped into the power bestowed upon you to search for a way to break the pact between warlock and patron. Of course it was doable and your powers could show you the way but you needed to get stronger first…

Fjord grew worried. You’d begun talking to yourself, spending nights awake and an odd sense of paranoia had grasped you. A storm hit once and you had nowhere to shelter. The little voice in your head came back. You could stop that storm. All it would take is a little tiny taste. When you agreed you had no control over yourself. Hand held up to the sky, eyes white and skin ashen, a bright light emitted and the clouds disappeared. Needless to say this did not go unnoticed by anyone.

Obligatory endless questions. Obligatory none answered. You retreated within your shell choosing to ignore your surroundings and feeling the nagging in the back of your head. Fjord heard you speaking to yourself at night. Asking the skies if it was worth it. Worth what? You heard him and just because the voice in the back of your head told you not to, you told Fjord everything; how you had been trying to find a way to keep Uk’otoa at bay, how to break his connection with his patron and give him freedom and what would happen to you if you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching for more after completing that goal.

Fjord refuses to let you sacrifice yourself for his freedom. He’d rather have you fighting the evils of the world at his side than end up fighting you in an attempt to save yourself from what you might become. The two of you would work together to repress the inkling for more power and keep your powers at bay and under control. While you might want to see it differently, for the good of everything you’d stay far away from any magical forces seeking to awaken the power you were born with.

Veth:

Veth made it clear she would not understand why anyone would pass on the opportunity to learn or develop magical abilities should they be available to them. She literally spoke those words and you just nodded along changing the subject. You’d rather not lie but is this lie by omission?

It was an emergency. A fight had gone south and you were losing quickly. Clerics on their last legs, a wizard down being dragged away by the monk and Veth running in arrows blazing and screaming to protect her friends. You had to get out and none of you were quick enough at this point to all get out. So you did what you had to do. A quick expeditious retreat resulted in conveniently released magic missiles at your enemies, grabbing the halfling who got out some last shots you misty stepped your way to safety. You shouted to the others you were safe immediately knowing to keep your mouth shut for the next minute. Bless the gods the surges weren’t that bad this time.

Safely returned Veth commented on what you did. Did you take those scrolls? Did you buy that misty step enchanted item after all? Those were the only logical explanations right? Yes but they weren’t true. So you told Veth the truth. No scrolls or enchanted items were involved. Why didn’t you tell anyone you could do that?! It would have been so helpful in the past! Look how many buttons you could have helped her get!

You calmly explained her you could cast spells and were actually quite good at it one point your magic is dangerous, and the surges uncontrollable the state you’re at. While this time the reward by far exceeded the risks in this situation, you’d rather prevent killing those around you in a blaze of glory if you can. Wild magic surges are no joke and you’re so afraid of hurting the people you care about you’d rather step away from magic completely than live with the knowledge you could be the end of your friends and family.

Veth still has a hard time understanding your reasoning being prone to risky behaviour herself but accepts your views and respects your decisions. While you may not practice magic you still know it and after some persuasion, the woman gets you to teach her a thing or two. Of course all used for the good of mankind of course…. She just failed to specify who’s.

Jester:

You’re a special one. The Traveler told her so after all! He just didn’t tell her in what way specifically but you are special! That Traveler of hers may know a bit more than you’re comfortable with so you’ve been wary of the green cloak should he see the need to reveal your secrets. Luckily he cares about Jester and revealing your secrets would hurt you and you being hurt makes Jester upset so you can take comfort in the Traveler’s attachment to the tiefling.

Pixies came to haunt you in the night. They were meant to send you a message. Someone wanted you to stop running and accept your fate. Pissed off as you were you fought them off but when some tried to get away and your bow out of reach you were forced to release the bursts of bright green energy. Regret hit followed by fear. What if your patron could find you now? What if they came to get you or tried to hurt your friends to get you to cooperate? You will never be a puppet again and if a cantrip screwed this up for you….

“Oh. My. Gosh. Why did you never tell me you could do magic?” Jester exclaimed waking up Fjord just to tell him your eldritch blasts looked so much cooler than his. Guess the cat’s out of the bag… You had to prevent Jester from waking up the others to tell them you’d just gotten even cooler than you already were.

Successfully sending the others back to sleep you took Jester aside. Your hands still shaking, you asked her to talk to her god and ask him if he knew someone might be looking for you and getting close. The Traveler obliged but he wanted to hear the story behind your predicament. You told Jester everything ignoring the green hooded figure. How a being from another realm tricked you into an agreement. From then on you became a warlock.

You didn’t like being a warlock and you being stuck in such a binding deal lead to a very abusive relation between you and your patron so you did everything in your power to get away from them. Luckily crossing the planes is a lot more difficult and limits their capabilities quite a bit. Jester promised she’d protect you and of course the Traveler can be your new god so he’ll protect you too. Both you and the Traveler might not have been in full agreement with this statement. Jester understands you wanting to be far away and never see your patron again. She’s seen her mom get rid of the people getting a little too close for comfort or too attached and possessive so she knows how to deal with them.

Caduceus:

From the beginning you knew you couldn’t hide anything from Caduceus no matter how hard you tried. This lead you to just never specify anything. If he picked up on thing and asked about them then you’d answer, if not, you weren’t just going to say anything. Not even to explain yourself. Let him draw his own conclusions.

You may once have been a devout follower of your god, the one who bestowed upon you the powers you’d need to uphold their tenets but you veered from that path. Not everything is as black and white as some people claim it to be. You learned the hard way afraid of repeating your mistakes you’d only revert to your old habits in the most dire situations.

Caduceus had gone down. Jester was too far away and you were the only one able to get to him in time but you were out of healing potions. A quick lay on hands later and Caduceus was back on his feet albeit a bit confused about how you had managed to get him back to the land of the living. Talk later, he told you after seeing you mortified of what you had just done through the relief of seeing Caduceus alive.

Talk later you did. You couldn’t run away from your problems. Caduceus wouldn’t let you. You told him how you had done terrible things, hurt people because your god willed it so. You thought you were doing the right thing until you were faced with the truth and consequences. That’s when you stepped away from your life as a paladin; a vessel for your god.

You kept the sword but refused to use the magic; proof of your ability to hurt people who were worthy of redemption. Over many months Caduceus would help you see that your magic is nothing to be afraid of as long as you wield it with a good conscious and to protect instead of seek vengeance. There’s a fine line between being righteous and being just. The Wildmother taught him as much. Maybe she could through him, show you the same?

Yasha:

Whenever someone played a happy tune or began singing you’d retreat and block out your surroundings or find anything you could to distract you from the sound. Yasha just thought music’s not for everyone and maybe these songs and melodies just were’t your style. However when you asked her to please stop humming a tune while you had watch together she became a bit suspicious.

Spending some downtime at a tavern, deep in your cups Yasha was being bothered by a rather persistent asshole. On the verge of a fight breaking out you stepped in front of the barbarian and in a singsong voice told the asshole to kindly piss off and find company elsewhere with someone actually interested. The act alone made your stomach churn so you ran off.

You didn’t like controlling people. It didn’t even take a rhyme or proper verse. All it took was some booze and a melody in your head. This couldn’t happen again. Yasha had come after you to check on you and when you told her to stop, she stopped, frozen in place unable to move. You immediately dropped the accidental spell you cast putting distance between you and Yasha.

Yasha assured her it was fine and with your permission approached. A hug from the gentle goth was all it took for you to turn into a sobbing mess. When the sobs calmed down you told Yasha how you were cursed with your voice. Song and rhymes, tunes and melodies constantly plagued you afraid you’d go along with them and people got hurt because you couldn’t control your voice.

For the longest time you were uncomfortable using your voice but with your permission Yasha would help you practice. She can take a hit if you lose control badly but this fear is no good for you. She’ll play sweet serenades, some prettier than others as she too needs practice, the both of you can practice together learning and relearning the things you grew to love together.

Mollymauk:

Mollymauk doesn’t care about your shit. Everyone hides something and as long as those secrets aren’t a danger to those around you it’s all fine. Though he can’t deny being a bit curious when you snuck off to burn a suspicious stack of paper…. lighting the flame without tinder, flint and steel, or anything.

The next few weeks involved Molly trying to get you to use magic again, asking you to do small tasks much easier to complete with magic than they would be manually. You didn’t budge. Somehow he couldn’t get you to do anything. You’d complete the task the hard way each and every time. He began to wonder if he might have imagined the whole thing.

He spent the whole night tossing and turning until he decided to give up on sleep and just face you with the question to be done with it. You were gone, the light of a fire a bit away from the rest of the group. He found you watching the flames, tears in your eyes and devoid of all emotion. He’d seen Caleb in a similar state before. That’s when it hit him. This was pain, fear and trauma and you’re disassociating to get through this.

Sitting down next to you he’d place a hand on your shoulder, when you don’t stop him he’d wrap it around your shoulder letting you know he’s here for you when you need him. His views don’t change. Everyone is entitled to their secrets and keeping their lives to themselves. If you want to talk, he’s here but he’d accept your silence too despite his curiosity. Luckily for his curiosity, you told him everything. The torments of the past and the family you lost, the pain you’ve caused countless others and how you’re trying to pay your penance and make right your wrongs.

You’re glad to have Molly at your side be that to cheer you up or listen to you. He’s there whenever you need him and will take no for an answer when you don’t want to talk about something. He won’t ask for further details but will do anything to show you you’re on the right path and leaving a place better than you found it when you can’t see it.

[nancypullen]

Melons and Murders

We didn't do anything special on the 4th of July. Because only 30-something percent of Tennesseans are vaccinated and the Delta variant is unpredictable, we're still avoiding crowds. It sucks because I really want to enjoy a ballgame or a concert. Downtown Nashville broke a previous record by hosting an estimated 400,000 drunken idiots for an Independence Day celebration. What could possibly go wrong there, right? So we stayed home, grilled some brats, and watched tv while our neighborhood lit up like a combat zone. It was insane. After all of that grumpy complaining, I'm actually here to pay tribute to summer food. As far as I'm concerned, the absolute QUEEN of the summer is the Sugar Kiss melon.

This melon will change your life. I've never tasted anything so good. Don't be deceived into thinking this is just a cantaloupe. This is magic in your mouth. This melon tastes like it's been injected with vanilla and sugar. They're only in season for a brief part of the summer and we eat about three a week. Not even kidding. We get ours at Publix, even though I've seen and purchased them elsewhere, the Publix melons seem to be at peak freshness. I don't know if Kroger warehouses theirs before they're in stores or what, but the Publix melons are superior. You'll spot Sugar Kiss melons right away, wrapped in their distinctive blue mesh and set apart from the other cantaloupe. Get one (no, seriously, get two) and you can thank me later. It wouldn't be summer without watermelon. I buy one every Saturday, chunk it up and keep it in a big, lidded tub in the frig. When I come in from working in the yard, hot and sweaty, a couple of pieces of chilled watermelon cools me down faster than anything I could drink. Mickey says the same thing. It's always sad toward the end of summer when watermelon becomes scarce. I have some heirloom seeds from my Grandma Ethel's watermelon patch that I treasure, and I haven't had the courage to plant them. How silly is that? I'd hate to get my hopes up and have some stupid pest ruin everything. Anyyywhooo...back to watermelon. Aside from just eating it straight, I'm addicted to this combo.

Day after day, I drop chunks of watermelon into a bowl, sprinkle some feta and a bit of chopped, fresh mint leaves, then top it with a quick squeeze of lime, just a little. Holy moley, I hear angels sing when I eat this. The super sweet melon, the salty feta, the zing from the mint and the lime - it's everything a summer dish should be. It doesn't hurt my feelings that it's really pretty to look at too. Know what else I'm addicted to? Breakfast salads. I love breakfast, it's my favorite meal of the day. I would be content to eat a hearty breakfast and then just nibble for the rest of the day. Normally I'll dice up tomato and onion and get it sizzling in a skillet, then I'll throw in some riced broccoli.

Once that's cooked through, I season and scramble two eggs and pour that in - a few stirs with a spatula and I've got a bowlful of veggie eggs and a yummy breakfast. If you're so inclined and can spare the calories, add cheese or bacon or whatever floats your boat. It's delicious, low in calories and fat, offers plenty of protein and fiber, and will keep you full all day. Winner. Lately I've been throwing together a flavorful salad...spring greens, a quarter of an avocado, a tablespoon of feta, and a tablespoon of crumbled bacon. Super simple.

Then I spritz a pan with a little olive oil and fry an egg. I season it like crazy and plop it right on top of the salad.

When I cut through the egg it releases the warm, yummy yolk as a dressing and coats everything. It's a delicious, healthy breakfast. The mister and I are still working the Weight Watchers thing. It's so stinkin' easy and NOTHING is off limits. I'm on the Purple Plan because I don't like to log things, so I have a bazillion "free" foods but only 16 points a day. The items that cost me are fatty things like mayo and butter. As long as I eat clean and whole foods (even whole grain pasta is zero points for me!) I can finish every day with points to spare. A grilled chicken breast with roasted broccoli and sweet potato is a zero point meal. How simple is that? Of course, that doesn't mean I don't have treats. It didn't take me long to figure out that a macaron is just two points and totally worth it. I'm down 21 pounds and it's been embarrassingly easy to do. It's been a slow drip, pretty much a pound a week, but it's the easiest diet I've ever been on and I think I've tried them all. Sorry, I rambled. I promised melons and murder. The murder part is really more of a question for you. It's no secret that I'm a true crime junkie. My DVR history is frightening- Snapped, Cold Justice, etc. My reading list looks like I'm either planning or solving a murder. But I'm new to true crime podcasts. When I'm at my desk I like to listen to a murder or two, usually tuning into a Dateline series (the Mommy Doomsday episodes will blow your mind). I'm in the market for other podcasts though, so I'm asking for your favorites. You don't have to answer here, you can always send suggestions to njpullen@gmail.com - no need to create a Tumblr profile or any of that. Hit me with your favorites, My Favorite Murder? Anatomy of a Murder? Crime Junkie? Sword & Scale? Do tell! Gotta' go. It's time for me to trot out to the garden and pick more cucumbers and have a chat with the birds and squirrels. Summer is in full swing and I intend to enjoy these days. Besides, if I don't go out and get sweaty, I can't justify eating more melon. I have an agenda. I hope you're having some fun with your day. Stir up some giggles, even if you're just laughing at yourself. I used to write jokes on Post-It notes and leave them on the doors of bathroom stalls at work. I wonder how many pantsless people chuckled ? Go spread some sunshine and make sure you get some on yourself. Stay safe, stay well, stay sunny. XOXO - Nanccy

[the-wonder-wall]

Willow: The Basics

Tw: Under the cut/readmore topics such as bugs (maggots), self/harm (during hallucinatory episodes), and sexual manipulation (Predeviancy) will be discussed. There are also censored reference photos. Stick to the area above to avoid that.

Species: Android

Height: 5'4

Pronouns: They/them

Sexuality: Pansexual

Created: May 2034

Deviated: October 31, 2035

Quick Notes:

• Michael had named Willow Angelica, often calling them his angel, they changed their name to Willow shortly after deviating

• They also hate angel's because of this, would not recommend using that as a pet name unless you want to upset them

• Because of how they deviated it is very hard for them to trust someone enough to repair them, if they do let someone repair them the circumstances are likely to be extreme

• Due to the amount of damage they've sustained, both self-inflicted and by others, their self healing program is barely functioning

• While they are still durable and can take a hit, they recover much slower than previously

• As of 2038 they live in the Junkyard, after the revolution pretty much any android there is dead. Willow see's the lack of life as a sign of safety, even if they are very lonely

• Although they're skittish, Willow is far too friendly for their own good. They can also be very gullible

• Willow doesn't quite grasp that stealing is wrong, only that stealing certain items are wrong. They don't steal to be malicious, they just assume it's ok if the item is either abundant or appears to be abandoned

• If told not to steal they are likely to take it as "Don't steal this particular item."

• They do not like being approached from the right as they can't see due to the missing eye

• The damage under their clothes is just as severe, if not more, than the damage to their face.

• While they don't want to be violent, there are situations where they'll feel there's no choice. They carry a switchblade for their own safety

• On the off chance that they kill someone, the memory files of the incident have and will corrupt for the sake of their own sanity. It's worth noting that they will continously try and fail to open the memory files as they badly want to know what happened.

• Will occasionally crack jokes, they're still learning humor and this tends to adapt to the people they hang around

• Will hide wherever they deem safe before going into stasis, usually in closes spaces at the junkyard

• Voicebox is severely damaged, causing their voice to sound distorted when they speak

• Created as a female android, has fully functional genitalia but they are non-binary

• Has never interfaced, isn't even sure what it is beyond android's holding hands and deactivating their skin programs

• They have no cooking program, but they were taught a small amount of recipes that their ex owner and his college aged daughter (Monica) wanted Willow to know

• They will sometimes try to avoid answering certain questions if they're uncomfortable

• Michael (ex owner) hade Willow's sense of touch made to be as close to human as possible. They feel chronic pain from their injuries

• They are highly susceptible to cold due to the open wounds allowing air exposure to their bio components. If their temperature drops too low they will be forced into stasis

• They also can't get too wet because of the exposed bio components. While water is unlikely to kill them it will certainly hurt them

Summary:

Willow is a custom made android created for their ex owner Michael with the intended purpose of being a fancy Halloween decoration. Before the Revolution he was well known for his increasingly horrofic Haunted Houses, gaining fame for his use of android's and how realistically their responses to stimuli, most notably fear, were.

To make everything more authentic feeling he would pay to have custom android's built to his liking, only giving them the program's he felt they'd need.

For Willow this means that they were built without the ability to scan, communicate through their mind, or use search functions to look things up. Michael intended for them to be entirely reliant on him. As a result they're as naïve as they are curious.

One perk they do have is their durability. Having become annoyed with how easily the previous android's shutdown during the deviation process, Michael had Willow built for durability. This is a huge reason Willow has yet to succumb to the damage they've sustained.

He also had them built with a feature that'd force them into an Emergency Stasis if they were to begin to self-destruct, after deviation this feature keeps them alive during hallucinatory episodes.

[Note that I forgot to draw their LED in one pic, they do have one]

Willow's Deviation:

From May 2034 to October 30, 2035 Willow lived with Michael, his college aged daughter Monica, and a few miscellaneous android's, blissfully ignorant as to what their intended purpose was. While weren't deviant, there were feelings of love. They had been led to believe that Michael cared for them as someone would a spouse. It's worth noting that he had installed Willow with sexual programs for his own perverted reasons, naturally Willow had gotten the wrong idea. Michael, however, was not about to correct them as he was well aware that the emotional whiplash would only aid in the deviation process. Which he saw more as damaged coding than actual sentience.

To cause Willow to deviate Michael had created several open wounds, burning the edges of the wounds to ensure the damage would heal as little as possible.

This was also to create as much pain as possible, as with each android Michael had continuously worked to make their sense of touch as strong as possible, both inside and out.

Once that was done he filled the wounds with rotten meat and maggots, locking them in a cage as a prop for the Haunted House.

He also installed metal wings to play up the angel aesthetic, these were ripped out when Willow met Kelli

Normally, early the next morning, Michael would put the android out of it's misery if it survived the night, but Monica, having begun to question if these reactions were really just broken coding, took pity on Willow and allowed them to escape.

After deviating Willow suffers from hallucinatory episodes where they believe the maggots are still inside of them. It is essentially bits of the memory replaying, overtime it began to spread much like a virus until they could see/feel the maggots on areas of their body that hadn't been harmed when they deviated.

During these episodes they attempt to dig the maggots out, usually with the switchblade they often carry, the episode will not end until they're forced into Emergency Stasis. During these episodes, if someone approaches them, Willow will likely perceive them as a threat or as Micheal himself. They are very likely to attack someone during this time.

[The reference photo with the flowers was created by a friend who wishes to remain anonymous. All other art is by me, though some is older]

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 8

Welcome to the Hotel On-The-Floor, Yeah

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, the party identified the culprit behind the murders in Barley and Wheat, but... well, it's complicated. The culprit was apparently being coerced by a dragon, and they managed to talk him down rather than fight. If they want that to stick, though, they'll need some kind of plan to get rid of that dragon. And... is it really worth bailing this guy out, anyway?

Saelhen, Oyobi, and Vayen all start discussing their plans in Elvish, which it doesn't seem like Arnie understands. Oyobi advocates for just killing the guy, but is a little less keen on the idea once Vayen advocates for the same. Saelhen would rather give the guy a chance, and points out that there's not much point to killing him as long as the dragon is still around- they'll need an answer for that, and the answer to a dragon is probably just as good an answer to Arnie.

Looseleaf, oblivious to their Elvish chatter, describes the basic plan to Arnie.

Arnie: "So you're, what... you're gonna get the church involved somehow? What're you gonna tell 'em?" Looseleaf: "Well, probably also Deathseekers," Looseleaf thinks, out loud. "We'll tell them there's a dragon conducting sacrificial rituals at the site of an altar to the god of pain. We'll get the church involved by virtue of proving to them that there's a dragon fucking around with divine shit, and we'll get the deathseekers involved by convincing them that there's a dragon stacked to the gills with cool magic items, which we'll prove by bringing them one of said items." "The important thing is to get going as soon as possible, right? There's a time-limit here measured in, uh... human... corpses..." Arnie: "Wait, how are you gonna get one of its magic items?" Looseleaf: "How do you think, mister 'I work for the dragon so he gave me a bunch of magic items to serve his dread will'?" "We'll bring the deathseekers that magic cloak you said you had." Arnie: "Uh, that's..." "Mine, though."

Eventually, after a persuasion roll or two, Arnie agrees to loan them the cloak, as long as it comes back in one piece. He also tells them how to safely retrieve it from the laundry room- as long as they exchange some dirty laundry for the clean cloak, they'll be happy and won't attack. He's got plenty lying around downstairs, which he heads down to grab.

While he's downstairs, the party confers, and decides to all go together to the nearest city- Cauterdale- to ask the local Deathseekers for aid. They figure Arnie's not a flight risk, since he doesn't have anywhere to run and a draconic boss who'll hunt him down if he tries.

(As they prepare to leave, a natural 20 on a perception roll alerts Looseleaf that Vayen has ransacked Lumiere's personal library, stealing- specifically- Lumiere's books on gods and divine magic, for some reason. She doesn't make any objection to this, though- Vayen's a creep, but it's not like they weren't all on board with looting the dead guy's tower.)

With Arnie's bloodstained laundry in hand, Looseleaf heads upstairs and retrieves the cloak without incident. She tries it out, and...

The result of her crit failing her Wisdom saving throw on the magic item is... nothing, apparently. That's always good to hear! The cloak appears to work exactly as intended! She's wearing a very fancy outfit.

Further experimentation reveals a few limitations- first, the cloak's shape is illusory, so it can't become armor or anything with particular utility. Second, it can get overly literal if you ask it to copy an outfit outright- you have to use your imagination properly. Third, it seems to get tired the more you ask it to change, so there's some limit on how often you can update your wardrobe. Those appear to be the only drawbacks!

So, with Arnie temporarily kept from murdering people, the party gets back on the road.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: For caution's sake, Saelhen calligraphs a piece of paper to say WE HAVE NOT BEEN TORTURED TO DEATH, and sticks it on the door on the way out.

As they make their way northeast, they make some Animal Handling checks to keep hold of their giraffes, as something seems to spook them. Looseleaf gets a critical success and is able to calm her giraffe right away... but the party ranger, who is proficient in neither Animal Handling nor Nature nor even Survival, because what kind of monster hunter needs to know that boring crap, has no idea how to handle an overexcited giraffe and is thrown from her mount with a critical failure.

Benedict I. (GM):There's a small sign by the road, heading off west towards what appears to be an actual forest. The prairie is giving way to a somewhat hillier and more forested terrain here, but the forest is thicker than anything you've seen on your way there. And as you're approaching the crossroads marked by that sign, your giraffes all try to bolt for it. Looseleaf is able to realize that they've been forced to graze on grass for miles, and when they see the trees, they get overexcited. Vayen and Oyobi get completely thrown from their mounts, and you have to follow them down the road a bit to catch up with them and rein them in. Looseleaf: Haha, oh, well, hopefully they don't try and spend the rest of the whole day grazing a pit-stop is within tolerances but we really do have to make it to Cauterdale sooner rather than later. Many lives are on the line! Saelhen du Fishercrown: Good thing Looseleaf can radiate peace at them! Benedict I. (GM): Looseleaf is able to beckon them back before they completely get out of reach, and pretty soon you've got them calmed down- but you've lost some time. There's a choice to make here, now: continue on to Cauterdale, but make the last hour or so of the journey in the dark- or rest at the location marked on the map near here.

On the map, where the sign marked "Umbrella Village" points (shut up, I don't even play Resident Evil, don't worry about it), is simply a warning that reads "EVIL WITCHES- AVOID!!!"

Oyobi and Orluthe inform the others that "witches" usually means "druids"- and Zero cashes in something from character creation. Looseleaf's background as an academic provided her with a book on some historical topic, which was never allocated because at character creation he didn't know enough about the world to decide on something interesting. Here he declares it's a book on the history of druids!

Benedict I. (GM): Druids, from what you've read, are sort of like clerics. They channel a divinity of some sort- which is typically revered as Mother Nature, or Gaia, or... every druid you meet is going to have a different name for it, because while it needs to have a thing to call it by, it is emphatically not a god. Druids have a complicated relationship with Ccorde, who's ostensibly the goddess of environmentalism and hippy communing with nature type stuff- but most druidic traditions regard this as a false claim on a divine domain. Nature is untamed and wild and exists on its own terms, a vital force that is not to be tamed with rules- people must forge their own relationships with Nature. The author of the tome you acquired was herself a cleric of Ccorde, and the tone of the book is defensive on that subject. The author's curiosity outweighed that defensiveness, though, and there's a long section dedicated to the theoretical differences between the channeling of Nature and the channeling of Ccorde- in particular, there's no common dispositional element with druids. Whatever Nature is, it's willing to act through anyone who puts in the effort. The author didn't seem to know anything about animism, but you suspect druidic practice might be related in some way- that their nature-spirit-channeling abilities may be a form of animism. The book is unfortunately light on the practical details of druidcraft, as the author prefers that the reader eschew the practice in favor of fealty to Ccorde.

Okay! So, they head down the road to stay at the druid village for the night- and notice something odd on the way, after some Nature checks. They notice that the dirt road they're going down seems to divide the forest in two- between a sparse, ivy-choked pine forest to the northeast, and a dense, healthy-looking deciduous forest to the southwest. You usually don't get such a sharp delineation between forests like that.

And Looseleaf notices... that their map doesn't show a forest on the southwest side of the road. The road is supposed to just go along the edge of the pine forest. Also, Looseleaf can see the trees' spirits there, and there's something... not quite right.

Benedict I. (GM):The left side of the woods- there does seem to be some ambient magic. Your Sight Unseen ability doesn't exactly detect magic, so much as it lets you see spirits, including the spirits of spells- but what's going on here isn't a spell effect. It's just that the spirits of these healthy-looking deciduous trees don't quite match their physical forms. Their spirits seem... sickly? Frail? Like they're not full trees, not trees that grew in their places from fallen seeds. There's something false about them.

Looseleaf: When you said 'the left side of the road is full of healthy-looking deciduous trees and the right side is full of misshaped thorny things' you know what the first thing i thought was it was, 'the left side is the dangerous side.' i didn't say it out loud but i was totally thinking that, and i am glad to have been vindicated.

The weird forest doesn't seem to be attacking them, though, so they head onward towards Umbrella Village, which seems to be built entirely on the pine side of the road. It's kind of cool-looking- every inch of available space, on the lawns, roofs, and walls, is covered in fruiting vines and various plants. The whole village is a carefully-cultivated ecosystem.

The villagers seem surprised to have visitors- apparently it's not a common occurrence. They seem normal enough, though- while they don't have an inn, they direct the party to visit the village elder, who might know where the best place for them to spend the night is.

(Oyobi once again crit-fails her Animal Handling check, and is unable to prevent her giraffe from ripping a tomato plant off the side of someone's house, which gets her scolded. Why are you a ranger, Oyobi?)

They head down to the village elder's house, which is unique in not being overgrown with crops- and knock on the door.

The door is answered by a little lizardfolk girl, who doesn't have any idea what she's supposed to do about there being... people... here? People she's never seen before? Who don't live in the village? What???

Benedict I. (GM): "...Who...?" "GRANDMAAAAA," she calls back into the room. Which she didn't really need to do so loudly, because there's an elderly lizardfolk woman sitting right there next to a small fire.

Looseleaf: Oh, and Looseleaf was about to ask if the little girl was the elder. Never let external appearances color your preconceptions, and all that. Benedict I. (GM): "Eh?" "Gramma there's Mysterious People!" "They don't exist!" The old woman gets up. "Who's... oh, visitors?" The little girl looks confused. "Vizza-what?" Looseleaf:"Indeed, we are emissaries from the Faraway Phantom Lands of Nonexistence," Looseleaf says in deadpan to the girl. "Behold as my incorporeal voice from out of the thin air astonishes you!" To the old lady, Looseleaf says. "Excuse us. You must be the elder?"

They inquire about a place to stay for the night, and the elder... checks the weather. Looseleaf, who has Druidcraft as a racial ability, also checks the weather, using a fancy little snowglobe spell!

Looseleaf: "I'unno, does this help?" Benedict I. (GM): "Oh, goodness. I thought you were from outside- do they..." "That's very well-done, really, and you smell delicious, but..." Saelhen du Fishercrown: uh Benedict I. (GM): "Well, it ought to be fine." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...hmm," says Saelhen. Benedict I. (GM): "Just put your bedrolls out anywhere- we're not doing rain tonight." "Well, anywhere in town, anyway." "You shouldn't set foot in the Mysterious Woods." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Ma'am, rest assured that we have less than no interest in Mysterious Woods."

So the party beds down in some soft pine needles, making use of Looseleaf's recently-acquired Extremely Comfy Pillow and a few bedrolls. They have a druid elder's assurance that the elements won't be a problem, so... nothing wrong with camping!

And as they're going to bed, Looseleaf rolls a 21 on Perception.

Luckily, Looseleaf fails her unarmed strike roll, which would do no damage even if it hit because her strength mod is -1. So she does not do any damage to...

Benedict I. (GM): So, you kick out at the mouth full of sharp teeth. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Fwff, goes Looseleaf's puffy moth footsie. Benedict I. (GM): The mouth full of sharp teeth goes "Eeek!" and recoils before you make impact, and you see the little lizardfolk girl scamper away into the darkness. Looseleaf: "What." "Wh- how dare you bite me! I am an emissary of the Phantom Lands and all that or whatever." "Come back here and explain yourself to My Imperial Nonexistingness!"

The little girl, affronted, explains that if she's not real, then it's not bad if she bites her!

Vayen: Vayen stirs. "...Shouldn't kill a child," he mumbles. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...this is a new dream," remarks Saelhen. "Better than the dreams about dad." "Vayen's even deciding not to kill someone. This is super neat, subconscious, keep going."

Saelhen argues that maybe Gramma doesn't know what things taste good, because sometimes grammas think things that taste bad taste good, like bell peppers! The child has no defense against this devastating logic bomb, and scampers off into the darkness, indignant.

Next time: the journey to Cauterdale, and the menace of the bobbledragon.

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Trials of Emi

Pairing: A little Minho. A sprinkle of Frypan. Gally x Emi(OC)

Summary: Emi, her twin brother Thomas, and a small group of gladers had been rescued and taken to a safe haven. Or so it seemed. It doesn't take long for Thomas to realize something is wrong. What happens next is a true trial for all of them but Emi's trials began the moment she was ripped away from a dying Gally. Watching someone you love die right before your eyes truly takes a toll.

Finally meeting the right arm could have been the end but betrayal leads to even more chaos and loss. A new mission to rescue those taken from them leads them to a city. The last city. After Emi finally comes to terms with everything that's happened something unfolds that changes everything again. She will have to not only deal with helping her brother take down WCKD and save their friend but also deal with all the new problems in her head and her heart.

Rating: As of right now it’s at most PG13. Some strong language that’s about it but it could change.

(This is the 2nd part/book to my other story "The Maze trials: A Gally Fanfiction". This will cover the events of the scorch trails and the death cure.)

Chapter Four

As soon as we were outside the wind whipped around us stronger than anything I'd ever felt. We ran down the concrete towards the spot the helicopter had landed when we first got here. Past that was nothing but sand. We ran up the huge sand hill most of us using our hands to help us climb. Once on the other side I leaned back putting most of my weight on my heels to slide down the sand. We kept running until Teresa and Fry had to stop for a breath.

We ducked behind a larger sand dune to catch our breath. In the distance I could hear the faint sound of shouting. A few moments later there were several revving engines.

"We need to keep moving," Thomas said as he peeked over top the sand dune.

"Do you have any idea where we are going?" Newt asked as we picked up the pace again.

"Janson and Ava mentioned something about a rebellion group called The Right Arm in the mountains," Thomas stated as he ran.

"That's it? Just some rebellion group supposedly in the mountains?" Newt asked sounding harsher than I'm sure he intended.

"Look!" Teresa shouted pointing.

We followed her finger to find a building almost completely buried in the sand. We ran down the hill towards it but before we could check it out and make sure it was safe Teresa was running ahead straight into it.

"Teresa!" Thomas shouted running after her.

We all ran after them. I stopped at the edge glancing inside before climbing in through what looked like a shattered and old window. The room was dark but I could tell it was an open room with lots of different items in it.

"Emi, come over here," Clint said from a few feet away.

Minho walked over to him as well holding one of the two flashlights they stole from WCKD. Thomas and the others were talking about splitting up and checking out the area. Minho gave Clint the flashlight then went to the rest of the group.

"Someone try to find me something to wrap this wound with and possibly clean it," Clint said to the others.

He put the end of the flashlight between his teeth as his hands moved my shirt out of the way. I hissed as he seemed to pull the skin open. He looked it over for a moment then let go stepping back and taking the flashlight from his mouth.

"It looks like something is in there. That could be bad but I can't get it out right now. Hopefully we can soon though. Looks like its stopping the bleeding for now." He explained wiping my blood onto his pants.

We sat in silence for a few minutes waiting on the others to come back. It didn't take long till we heard footsteps coming back towards us.

"Guys!" Fry shouted gleefully.

I could see his outline a few feet away. He came over to us quickly with a few things in his hands. He handed something metal and shiny to Clint.

"I found this too." He said excitedly holding up a small bottle.

Clint smiled taking it from him. He opened the bottle pouring a small amount of the liquid on the metal in his hand.

"Fry, I need you to hold the light steady. Emi, lay back and try not to move." Clint said sternly pushing me back onto the floor.

I hissed clenching my teeth as he used the small metal to reach inside my wound. My hands balled into fists. My nails digging into my palms. My head tilted back as I tried not to move or scream.

"I got it!" Clint said excitedly.

I let out a shaking breath but I could feel the blood resuming to flow. I screamed caught off guard as Clint poured the rest of the small bottle onto my skin. It burned. It must be alcohol. Fry handed him the fabric in his hands. It looked like an old shirt possibly. Clint wrapped it around my shoulder tying it then he slowly lifted my left arm and laid it across the fabric making a sling. He pulled me to my feet.

"How's that feel?" He asked.

"Like I got shot," I muttered glancing at my bloody chest and shoulder.

Clint and Fry chuckled but said no more. Lights filled the empty room blinding me. I covered my eyes for a second until they adjusted. Once I could see properly I noticed how lived in this space looked.

"You've got to come see this place," Fry said with a huge grin.

Clint and I shared a look then followed behind Fry. He brought us to an area fully lit up where Newt, Winston, Aris, and Teresa were standing.

"We found more flashlights. Kinda pointless now though." Winston said handing one to me.

"We might need them later so hang on to it," Newt said.

"What is this place?" Clint asked.

"No idea" Newt said looking around.

"Looks cool though" Fry added with a smile.

"Go!" I heard the echoing voice of Thomas before I saw him.

He and Minho came around the corner hauling ass. We all stood for a moment looking at them. What the hell are they doing?

"Run!" Minho shouted.

"Go! Go!" Shouted Thomas.

The next second a group of odd-looking people came around the corner running full speed after the two boys. This didn't look good at all.

"Shit" Newt said backing up.

"Go! Run!" Thomas shouted again as they got closer.

I grabbed Fry with my uninjured arm then took off away from them. I could hear the others starting to run behind us. Just when we were about to go around a corner another one came out of nowhere.

"What the hell is that?" Fry shouted.

Aris pushed through the group with his bat in hand. I tried to pull him back as someone else shouted his name. He swung the bat taking the thing out at the knees. It fell sliding towards the group. Thomas and Teresa got cut off from the rest of us as two more came near them.

"We'll go around! Go!" He shouted pointing to the stairs.

The rest of us took off towards them as Teresa and Thomas backtracked a few feet to go up another set. They met us at the top reforming the group as we took off again.

"We gotta find a way out of here!" Fry shouted.

A sudden loud crash followed by a scream had me spinning around to see Newt pinned to the ground with one of those things on top of him. Without thinking I ran over to him but before I reached him Thomas kicked the thing off Newt then pulled the blonde to his feet.

"Thanks, Tommy" Newt said affectionately as he grabbed hold of Thomas.

"Keep going!" Thomas shouted.

We took off again trying to figure a way out of this apparent maze. Isn't that ironic. Following Thomas we got into a narrow hallway surrounded by brick walls. By this point I was panting out of breath. The searing pain in my shoulder that I had been ignoring was pulsing threw my entire body.

"Where are we going?" Clint asked.

We came to a door. Minho pulled and pushed it but it didn't budge.

"They're coming!" Teresa shrieked.

We moved farther down the hall until Thomas found another door. This one was cracked open but padlocked.

"This one!" Thomas shouted as he kicked at it.

"They're getting closer!" Teresa said unnecessarily.

"I'll hold them off," Winston said taking the gun from Minho.

Thomas continued to kick and throw himself against the door. I grabbed him pulling him back as shots rang out from the gun in Winston's hands. I pulled back and with all my might, anger, and fear I kicked the door as close to the lock as I could and it flew open.

"Go! Go! Go!" Shouted Minho.

We all ran through the door. Winston came through last. At the last second he was grabbed and pulled back towards the group of fucked up people. We all scrambled to grab him. We pulled as Thomas and Minho kept the door from opening completely. We pulled Winston free helping him back to his feet. The two boys holding the door gave us a head start. When I saw them back in the group I knew those things were coming after us again.

A little farther down when we got out of eyesight of those things we found a place to hide. I was squeezed between Newt and unfortunately Minho. I could hear them above us making horrible sounds as they seemed to slow down like they were actually looking for us. At some point we all passed out from exhaustion.

—

[peantbutter-honeycombs]

Close to the Ground

Title: All In a Name

Word count: 4,204

Characters: Peter Parker, oc

Warnings: fluff? Platonic fic not romantic.

Notes: Sweet damn!!! This came out a lot longer than I intended for it to. Let me tell you. As I was writing I kept thinking of more ideas and the word count kept getting longer. I'll edit this when I have the time if I'm able, so forgive typos. There are so many typos. I'll change this when I've edited the story.

I came up with the idea years ago back when Civil War came out. But now I have time to headcanon and perfect it.

———

The little girl stared at Peter and he in turn stared back the two looked at each other as if they were deer caught in the head lights. That both sat criss cross, across from the other on May's living room sofa. Every time Peter even tried to make a move the little girl would flinch, a cold chill creeping up her spine so Peter tried to remain motionless.

While he appeared cool on the outside, inside his thoughts were spiraling out of control. What do I do!? What do I do!? Where's aunt May? One of my first real "rescues" as Spider-Man and I come home with a kid!? In the grip of silent panic his right foot beat uncontrollably against the cushion. It seemed to be the only acceptable action, as it didn't send the pipsqueak into a tizzy.

He had been doing a routine sweep of neighboring area swing through the cityscape when a scream as good as a a banshee's rent the air. Nobody screamed like that unless they were in fear for their life. It came from a darkened alley, and like a true hero he'd taken off toward it ready to take on whatever threat lied ahead. He shocked to find the alley seemingly empty though after a careful look around just to be safe he had found her. Lonely, buried beneath bags of trash, she laid out.

Peter wasn't sure what he'd been thinking back then, forty minutes ago. Scratch that, he knew damn well. The city streets were no place for child, especially one so young. It was going to be dark soon and thunder had been in the forecast for later that evening. He'd used his best judgement.

He mentally scoffed, best judgment.

Now here he sat just him and what could be more than a two-year-old. Her icy blue eyes stared directly into his soul unsure yet whether to consider him friend or foe. Her clothes were of the spring variety a season that would becoming to an end in following few weeks. They seemed kind small for her, which was saying something, stained with dirt, garbage, and other thing Peter didn't care to name. Her hair was knotted and tangled giving it a troll rat nest appearance. If he had to guess, she was brunette.

The ringing for the apartments land line went of like a school bell. The two caught off guard both flinched at the sudden noise, the little girl letting out a high pitched yelp as she did. Second ring. Peter shared a look with toddler at the other end of the couch. He needed to answer the phone, but he didn't want to trigger a panic. Third ring. She whimpers bring her knees up into her chest. Fourth ring.

"I need to answer the phone," Peter said. His words were clear and concise, carefully spoken as to not spook her. "Please, I promise that's all I'm going to do." Her icy eyes softened, not by much but enough to convince him she would allow him to get up and move across the room.

He moved in at brisk walking pace very aware of the fact that with each step he was silently being judged. Once in the kitchen her scooped up the land line and spoke into it. "Parker residence. Hey this..." he listened for a moment.

"Hey, May... I'm- I'm fine. I could really use your help though... Can it wait?" He looked over to the child now staring out the window, from the couch, with wide eyed fascination at the rain outside. "It's kind of important... Oh I see... Uh-huh... Uh-huh... But still... Uh-huh. Okay... Later? Sure... Okay... No, no I got it... okay, see you then... I love you too...bye." He hung up the phone, placing it back on it charging stand.

With a sigh he ran his hands across his face. The child immediately turned her focus back to him eyes darting up and down to discern his current emotional state. He wouldn't cuss in front of her, at least not a loud. Inside his head he was Kenny McCormick.

He gave a feeble smile to the toddler when he noticed she was watching his every move, as if she were studying him. "What am I going to do with you?" he laughed somewhat dryly. She obviously didn't like that lowering her head so only her eye and above peeked out from behind the couch's back.

Indeed what would he do with her?

........................................................................................................................................................

It seemed there was nothing he could do to make her budge. She was't interested in his action figured, books, or legos— Probably a good thing she wasn't to keen on the legos kind of a choking hazard — she ignored his funny faces and attempts to make her laugh. She just stared on, gnawing on her fingers, curled up at one end of the couch. She had moved when Peter accidentally came too close to her but he wasn't about to do that again. It would be cruel to use her spacial fears against her.

"Okay I give up," Peter declared. "You can just sit there on the couch and do nothing." He was laid out across the rug surrounded by various items he'd pulled from his room in an effort to entertain the emotionless youngling.

At Peter declaration she raised a brow, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of her lips. As quickly as it came it went, Peter was none the wiser.

Grrbbrggfgrr

She hadn't meant to do that, Peter could tell by the light pink pink color flushing her cheeks. Her stomach rumbles again making her squirm in her seat.

Peter raced to the kitchen. He swung open the fridge, digging past the left over takeout none of which he figured she'd like, he found a box with leftover chicken nuggets from a meal he'd made himself a few days prior. He took out the remaining seven nuggets and quickly placed them in the microwave for 49 seconds before coming back to the living room.

He sat back down, set the plate out on the coffee table in front of the child and asked.

"Are you hungry?" A lick of the lips was all he got in response. She carefully eyed the plate, focus switching from,Peter to the tenders on a loop. "It's okay, the foods fine," he tried nudging the plate a bit closer to her. "It's chicken nuggets. Do you like chicken nuggets?" She curiously dropped her head to one side eyebrows drawing together as if to ask 'what are chicken nuggets?'

"There really good," Peter coaxed taking a piece for himself to demonstrate. "It's okay, they're not poisoned or anything." He took a bite and smiled.

Hesitantly she reached an arm out but was quick to realize her arms were to short. Cautiously, carefully she slid herself off the couch cushion, eye never leaving Peter. Feet firmly on the ground she let herself relax a little. She finally took one of the nuggets off the plate and sat her little bum on the rug. She sniffed the meat then just barely touched it to her small tongue.

She cooed, kicking her legging up and down, as she'd just been hut by a stoke of lightning. Her eye dilated losing there icy sheen as she devoured the chicken nuggets. Eyes shining with new found life she looked to Peter. Clicking her feet together she held out the plate, making series of inaudible noises.

Peter bit back a laugh, "do you want some more." There was bag in the freezer, they would actually require more than a microwave to bake. But she was happy, maybe more would make her smile.

........................................................................................................................................................

Peter couldn't help but feel proud of himself. Making more chicken nuggets had clearly been the right decision. She chattered and observed everything with a newfound curiosity. He still hadn't seen her smile but that didn't bother him too much.

He sat on the couch watching her wander around the apartment reaching for and looking at everything. Every now and again she'd find something so interesting to her that she'd pick it up and bring it over to show Peter. She chatter and babble nonsensically then leave at his feet and amble of to continue exploring.

Peter was keeping a list in his head of where she was finding everything so he could later put them back. So far she'd gifted him nine items; an electronic candle, the tv remote, one fuzzy sock, his Mathematics of Astronomy textbook, a spare set of keys, a decorative flower, an orange, a quarter and two nickels, and his Wicket the Ewok action figure.

There was pull from under him. He looked over the back of the couch to see the little girl tugging atone end of the throw blanket, the other end firmly lodged underneath him. "Whatcha doin'?" She briefly stared at him, then continued to tug at the soft blanket.

"I don't think I can keep pretending you don't have a name." He said suddenly, lifting himself off his end of the throw blanket.

With no one else home it was easy to ignore the fact that he didn't know her name but it was starting to feel rude. She knew his name, he just thought she couldn't yet say it. Either out of shyness or verbal development.

"Do you have a name?" He asked. She blinked a few times before draping the blanket over her head. "Can you tell me what it is?" He tried. From beneath the blanket she chattered and honked at Peter stomping her feet against the floor.

"Really?" Peter smiled, pretending he knew just what she'd said. "Well, how about I give you a nickname?" she babbled some more craning her head to one side. "Okay cool," he pulled out his phone and brought up a cite for nickname recommendations. "Let's see... cutie? You are pretty cute," Peter teased. He couldn't see her face but he heard her blow a raspberry. "So that's a no... monkey?" she was curious. Another raspberry. "Bee?" This time she shook her head, her interest fading.

Blanket still over her head she traveled around the room like a ghost. A cute ghost. An unnerving tingle ran up Peter's spine making the hairs on his skin stand on end. He immediately looked to the toddler. "Ooah," she squeaked. She hadn't gotten far before bumping into one of the apartment's ceiling support beams. His eyes flew wide and his muscles went all rigid.

He surprised himself, he was at her side in seconds, still maintaining an arms length distance. Her arm length not. "Hey, hey are you okay?" He softly cooed, cautiously lifting the blanket off her head. He looked her over, as best he could from where he was, for any bruises or marks. She nodded.

"Yep? You're okay?" She continued to nod making clicking noises with her tongue. There was this twinge feeling in Peter that just wasn't convinced. Not a spidey-sense feeling just a fEeLiNg.

She affirmatively nods, struggling to stand up in the blanket tangle she'd created. Peter couldn't help but laugh softly watching her struggle to stand. She reminded him of the videos of newborn calves standing for the first time. She sneezed tripping backwards back down on her bum.

His muscles went stiff, he had to stop himself from touching her. "Hey, be careful. Clumsy." He laughed dryly. "You alright?" She turned her head to him, wiping the snot dribbling down her nose away with her sleeve and nodded.

Peter crinkled his nose in disgust, he was compiled by sheer grossed outness to peel her arm away by the sleeve. She flinched at the sudden contact, her face washed blank with confusion. Then she remembered, and her muscles relaxed.

"Let's use a Kleenex," Peter suggested bringing her arm away from her boogered nose. Her clothes were already coated in a thin layer of grime. "Maybe... take a bath?" He added. She was in desperate need of one, he was getting used to it but she reeked. And he was curious to know what she looked like without the filth layer.

That being said, this was the first time he'd been allowed to contact her in anyway since he'd brought her home and she still seemed agitated. So bath would be hers and his summit.

........................................................................................................................................................

"Okay look it's just a little water."

He managed to coax her into the bathroom and fill up the tub before she'd put two and two together. She stood back against the one door and shook her head. He'd been at this for fifteen minutes, though her trust in him had grown she refused to enter the bath. Peter wasn't about to make her that'd just undo her confidence in him.

"Hold on I'll show you." Peter dunked his head into the mildly warm water. Her nervous became frazzled jumping all together in a frazzled panic. Heart rate spiking, she speeds across the room to the edge of the tub. It wasn't long before Peter brought his head back up, he'd only been under for a couple of seconds. His hair lies plaster about his forehead beads of water dripping down from the tips. "See? Perfectly fine?"

Looking to her his smile fell. Gripping tightly the edge of the tub, her eyes held a sweet amount of concern. Lower lip drawn back in her, eyes brimmed with watery tear threading to fall. Guilt hit him like a fright train. "I'm sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He apologized. She shakily sniffled, gnawing on her middle, index, and ring fingers as she sat her bum on the tile. She needed to calm her nerves.

So bath was a no go. Something about the water unnerved her.

"How about a shower?" He offered. Sure the toddler was small but she wouldn't fit in any of the sinks for a baby style bath. It was after all a small apartment. So a shower seemed like the next option. Peter pulled the the drain stopper out, to let the water run down.

Her blues curiously watched the water drain until the base of the tub was bare. "I promise a shower isn't bad." She looked at him, monitoring his movements as he stood and took off the handheld shower head. "Promise, promise," he joked sending a reassuring smile her way.

He turned the nob over the water nozzle, activating the hot water. "It's just like a rain...shower." He explained spraying the shower head toward the bath's back wall.

Eyebrows arching toward the sky, her eyes widened. She chirped and squeaked pointing — with the hand not in her mouth — toward the watery spray.

"See?" He held his hand out in front of the gentle spray. She moved close to him, so close her shoulder brushed against his. She held out her own hand, the warm droplets tickled her skin.

"There you go," Peter beamed. She babbled about, looking between him and the spray, her senseless words ran into one another. Peter reached over her head and took out rubber duck from the shower caddy. "Ducky will even be your shower buddy." It hadn't had purpose until then, previously nothing more than a decoration.

"Quack-quack quack," he teased tickle the duck against her side. She hummed, crumpling up. Her mouth formed what wasn't quite a smile but also not a frown. She poked at the rubber duck, attempting to mimic Peter's quacking. Peter laughed, she sounded like a chick.

"Ducky?" He tried.

She crinkled her nose making a stank face. Another raspberry.

He chuckled softly, she really is cute

........................................................................................................................................................

Peter couldn't believe it. Under all that dirt and grime the toddler was actually quite adorable. She was cute before but now that she was cleaned up she had this new glow to her. The toddler was Celtic looking, fair skin, sharp eyes, spotty dotty freckles that shifted with her cheeks and beautiful strawberry blonde locks.

"And blue," Peter called out.

The two were back in the living room. They spent the better half of an hour sorting Peter's stuff by color, something he thought she wouldn't be interested in but took to quite naturally. They'd run out of stuff from Peter's pile on the floor to sort twenty minutes ago. He wasn't quite sure how it started but now all he had to do was call out a color and she'd toddle off to find a match, then return so he could add it to the corresponding color pile.

No completely clean she'd certainly perked up even more so then before. She wore a pink black-squared tank hooded capri romper, hair still damp it fell loosely on to her shoulders.

Prepping for her a shower he'd discovered she wore pull-ups. Shouldn't have surprised him. This however made him realize there weren't any clothes suited for her in the apartment. Luckily one of the neighbors a floor below had a child close to her assumed age. The mother was confused as to why he needed some of her child's old clothes and pull-ups. Peter had just said he was babysitting and the child didn't bring an extra pair of clothes. Which wasn't a total lie.

The patter of little feet filled the room as the toddler waddled over to Peter from where ever she had been. She held out a blue sandal, not a pair sandals, just the one. "Is there another shoe," Peter asked raining a single brow. She drew in her lip, rocking back and forth on the soles of her feet, and nodded hesitantly.

"Can you go get it for the blue pile?"

She rolled her eyes but nonetheless complied, scuffling off to retrieve the other sandal. She was really enjoyable to be around, a bit of goof ball.

It wasn't long before she came barreling in sandal in hand, a blue metallic 1966 model Chevrolet chevelle clamped between her teeth.

"Hey what did I say?" Peter asked adopting a stern tone. She blinked a few times before remembering. She widened her mouth allowing the car to drop to the floor. "Little gum monster."

This earned him a raspberry.

Peter was certain she was still teething. If she wasn't gnawing/gumming on her own fingers she was gumming on some object. She'd gnawed on the rubber duck, a spatula head, four of the gifts she'd given Peter and now a metal model car. He'd have to get her a teething ring.

Peter shook his head mentally hitting himself. She's not staying.

Peter had to found himself forgetting that fact a couple times in the past two hours.

"Okay go find..." he wanted to challenge her this time. "Yellow." She chirped and squeaked before toddling off. She was a little scout, obtaining articles and returning them to Peter.

This time it too, her bit longer to find something of a yellow color. The duck had already been used so she need to find something else. She found herself in what could only be Peter's room. She sifted and searched, eyes on the lookout for some yellow.

Bingo

He heard it... again. The litter patter of little feet approaching. Heart swelled as he saw her round the corner of the couch, proudly clutching a mustard yellow cloth. "You found yellow," he commended holding a hand out for her to give him the cloth. Peter couldn't help but laugh as he spread out what was actually his mustard yellow tee with the words 'Bacteria. The only culture some people have' printed on in bold black lettering.

The little girl tried mimicking his laughter, but sounded more like a dolphin or chipmunk. This only made Peter laugh more.

"Thanks Gummy."

The name just slipped out. Her eyes sparkled like freshly fallen snow. He could tell by her body language and lack of raspberry that she at the very least didn't hate the name. In fact Her babbling happily like spring brook suggested she liked the name.

"Gummy," he repeated.

There was something about the nickname that just... suited her.

........................................................................................................................................................

When this kid, Gummy at as Peter now called her, got her energy she made the most of it. He never wanted to hear the Hokey-Pokey or the Baby Shark songs again. His muscles were tight from the childish motions. Simon says had been much more his speed for the night, at least until it was Gummy's turn be Simon. Hide-and-Seek nearly gave him a panic attack.

He could no longer deny the fact that he cared about her. Her bright eyes, bubbly chirps, and button nose. Her in all her quirkinesses.

"Okay Gummy, behold one of the greatest movies ever!..." He exclaimed holding up a colorful dvd box. Gummy did her cute curious head tilt, crinkling up her nose. "That we own." Peter murmured somewhat sourly.

Peter had the room set up for comfy movie watching. She'd burned out after four rounds of hide-and-seeks, showing clear signs of tiredness. Now she sat tired-eyed rather sluggishly on the couch. Peter himself was sort of tired too, she'd drain a lot of his energy. A movie seemed like the perfect way to wind down. He wasn't sure how long she'd last, her eyes already glazing over, but he'd enjoy himself even when she inevitably fell asleep.

Gummy reached for the box making grabby hands. Peter took out the dvd and handed it's case to the two-year-old. "It doesn't go in your mouth." He emphasized before turning his back on her. She tried to play with the thin plastic case but quickly discovered the only thing interesting about it was the sound it made when she opened and shut it.

"My Neighbor Totoro. It has animals I really think you'll like." After getting the dvd ready, he sat beside her, letting his body sink into the cushions.

They sat, brains off, engrossed. Peter would peel his eyes away every few minutes to check if Gummy was still awake. Though the television blared her eyes were half closed and her fingers were back in her mouth. She'd yawn, little tongue curling as she did. Her eyes lit up when the first Ghibli creature appeared on screen but there was still a tiredness behind them.

She'd be out like a light soon. Peter returned his focus to the movie.

Some time passed and he suddenly felt a weight increase against his side. He looked down and his eyes immediately softened. Gummy had curled against him. He gave her a side hug and brushed her wispy bangs back. She hugged her little arms around his, nuzzling her face against it, the softest smile gracing her lips.

Peter's heart melted. She's not staying. She's not staying.

He watched her chest rise and fall. The two's combined body heats, tethered with the bump-bump-buh beat of Peter's heart sent the sweet girl off to dreamland. Her fingers unconsciously curled into the fabric of his top, not clasping it tightly, but just enough to reassure her, he wasn't going anywhere. Peter using his other arm brought her onto his lap, protectively holding her against himself.

She's not going anywhere.

........................................................................................................................................................

EXT. Ending

The apartment was dark. The only sources of light came from the one lamp still lit down the hall, and the frequent passing of street cars. Their lights shining through the apartment windows. There was shuffling of feet out in the hall, a muttering of a curse, a jangle of key, and finally a satisfying click. The door swung open. In the door way, the silhouette of a woman shaking the rain off her umbrella.

"Peter?" She whispered quietly entering in. Just barely making out some movement on the couch she shook her head. Her nephew most have fallen asleep on the couch again. "Peter," she called out. At the second call of his name Peter awoke, his hold around the still sleeping baby in his arms tightening.

"Hey Pete sorry I had to work late." May apologized tussling her nephew's hair. "A coworker had leave suddenly, his wife went into labor. And it was my turn to cover." She headed to the kitchen.

Peter pushed a hand through his hair fixing the tussled up areas. "Yeah it's fine May," He assured looking back at her from over his shoulder. "Something huge happened after school." He began.

He didn't get a chance to finish as his aunt held up the dirty pair of clothes Gummy had been wearing earlier. Their apartment didn't have a washing machine so he'd simply discarded them in the sink until they could be washed. "Peter who's clothes are these? Who's Emilia?"

"Emilia?”

May held up the shirt tag. While he was seated too far to see what was written, he had to guess it was the word 'Emilia'.

Peter bit the inside of his cheek, mentally kicking himself. Her name was on her shirt tag! As the full realization, sank in, he threw his head back. From the pit of his stomach, came all his emotion, and a loud groan passed through his lips.

"Damn it."

[jesawyer]

Disguises in F:NV are very powerful, allowing the courier to safely travel though an area where they're vilified, but sniffer dogs act as a foil, as they can "see through disguises". There are additional unused sniffer dogs for various factions who didn't have them, as well as an unused item called Sleepy Time Dog Treat, which would've inflicted fatigue damage, knocking the sniffer dogs out. Was the disguise system planned to be more fleshed out at one point in development?

I don’t think I ever intended to be that much more fleshed out.  Please understand that the solution we used was handled entirely (IIRC) through scripting, i.e. without programming support.  That limited what we could do with the system.

The basic thinking is that we had a lot of outfits in the game, many of which were uniforms or uniform-like, and since almost everyone in the major factions is human, the Courier should have a chance to sneak around in those outfits.

Dogs can see through disguises, and certain other units were intended to as well (e.g. Legion Explorers).  Because of the lack of programming support, I think we stuck with dogs as the sole “sniffers” because the player could easily identify dogs in any faction, as opposed to figuring out which special units in a faction could see through disguises via trial and error.

Honestly, if we had code support now, the only things I would change would be to use a system more like the new Hitman games.  When you put on a disguise, “sniffer” characters would get a small, unobtrusive UI element to indicate their ability to see through the disguise.  If they are facing you and get within a certain range, that UI element would change over time (indicating growing suspicion) until it flipped over to an investigative/confrontational or hostile AI state.

That, combined with distraction items (like Spark Crackers in Deadfire) could allow for better non-violent navigation of areas without actually being in SNEAK mode.

[morbid-n-macabre]

This one is local for me. The perpetrators are in my approximate age group, I was 16 when this occurred. Most of us locals who remember when this was going on hold a seething resentment towards this group of punks, and for good reason. Let me tell you why...

So, The Lords of Chaos were a teen militia group who did their very best to terrorize Fort Myers, Florida back in 1996. This crime spree ended with the murder of the very much loved and respected Riverdale Highschool band director, Mr. Mark Schwebes. The teacher was a truly good and decent human being who went out of his way to help the kids around him. Sadly, his killers knew this and used it to their advantage.

The Lords of Chaos lived in one of the more remote areas of Lee County, a place called Buckingham. The group consisted of teenagers with ridiculous nicknames: Kevin Foster was the leader who referred to himself as "God" (yep, the sociopath had a bit of a God complex), Pete Magnotti was "Fried", Derek Shields was called "Mob", and Chris Black was a bigger boy referred to as " Slim". Those 4 were the main members of the gang, but there were others who were less involved: Thomas "Dog" Torrone, Chris "Red" Burnett, and Craig Lesh. The only one in the group to have a criminal record was their leader, Kevin, albeit mostly driving offenses. His parents owned a local pawnshop so Kevin had access to an arsenal of weapons which he was apparently not taught to respect; the weapon which would be used to commit murder, a 12-gauge Mossberg 500 shotgun with an equipped suppressor, had been a Christmas gift when he was just 13. Kevin is described as charismatic, homophobic, racist, and bigoted; he was enamored with the cult leader David Koresh, serials he'd seen on television like Norman Bates, outlaws such as Billy the Kid, and the homegrown terrorist Timothy McVeigh. Kevin wanted to do something big to catch a name for himself, he wanted a reputation; the rest of the group had no problem with following his lead.

This group's crime spree appears to have begun at the end of March when they stole a couple of Jeep Cherokees. They drove the new vehicles out to Lehigh Acres and set them on fire, just sat and watched them burn. Next, Kevin filled a Coke can with something which resembled gun powder and attached wires to it with duct tape; said can was placed on a shelf in a Walmart pharmacy. Kevin then called the store and told the employee who answered that there was a bomb inside; panicked shoppers were evacuated, police flocked to the store, it was a mess. This group did their best to destroy everything they could; they spent their time searching for things to steal, random windows to break, or places to set fire to.

On the evening of April 13th the Lords of Chaos decided to vandalize and rob a restaurant called The Hut. This restaurant happened to have an outdoor patio where customers would sit and eat, and there were two beautiful macaw parrots kept in a large cage. When Kevin heard the two macaw parrots talking, he decided to light them on fire. Macaws are not stupid animals, they're very intelligent parrots with a lifespan which rivals ours. Thankfully one of the birds did somehow survive this, but it lost its mate.

At midnight on April 20th Kevin decided to do something big, it was the anniversary of the Waco siege. The group drove to a historical landmark, our Coca-Cola bottling plant, one of the only original bottling plants in Florida. While Kevin carefully filled a soda can with gunpowder and stuck a 25 foot fireworks fuse inside of it, his buddies strategically placed stolen propane tanks all around the building; they carefully ensured that once Kevin's bomb went off, the whole building would blow. Once it was all set up, the teens sat in a safe spot across the street and watched the explosion; firefighters did their best to put out the fire, but our beloved historical building was lost.

So, it's probably obvious that all of this really upset people, by this point the entire county was beyond angry! A local reporter wrote an article about the ongoing vandalism, and said article was very insulting towards the group of punks who were responsible for these terrible acts. The group read this article, and it only added fuel to the fire, so to speak. In turn, they wrote a manifesto which they had intended to mail off to our local newspaper, the News Press. For whatever reason the manifesto was never sent; nevertheless, it read in part:

"Lee County is dealing with a formidable foe, with high caliber intelligence, balls of titanium alloy, and a wicked destructive streak. Be prepared for destruction of biblical proportions, for this is the coming of a NEW GOD, whose fiery hand shall lay waste to the populous.

THE GAMES HAVE JUST BEGUN, AND TERROR SHALL ENSUE..."

The spree continued with the robbery of a woman named Emory Shields; Emory was not only the owner of a small restaurant called Alva Country Diner, but she had been one of the teen's landlord. After robbing Ms. Shields, they stole her vehicle. At one point the gang took a trip to the Edison mall in hopes of stealing some clothing. They attempted to let off a grenade inside Dillard's, but thankfully it was a dud. Next, Kevin and his buddies decided to attend Grad Nite, which is a big deal for highschool seniors because they get to run around Disney World throughout the night. Kevin had a plan to steal one of the character suits and shoot up Disney, to kill as many teenagers as possible, but thankfully he chickened out.

On April 30th the teenagers drove to their own school, Riverdale, with the intention of trashing it. They stole several things, set off multiple fire extinguishers, then filled up a bottle of bleach with gas and threw it though the highschool's auditorium window. Riverdale's beloved band director, 32 year old Mr. Mark Schwebes, caught the group outside. He confiscated all of the items which they had stolen from the school, and threatened to tell the resource officer. Kevin knew that once the vandalism inside the school was discovered, the teacher would put two and two together and the group would be busted; he decided that the band teacher had to die before that could happen.

The teens found Mr. Schwebes phone number and address by calling 411. They dialed the teacher first, to ensure that they'd obtained the correct information; after hearing Mr. Schwebes voice, Kevin, Pete, Derek, and Chris Black all jumped in their vehicle and drove over. Kevin knew that the teacher would answer his door for a student he recognized, and since Derek had been a member of the band, that's who was sent knocking. At approximately 11:30 pm the teacher opened the door for his student, and Kevin immediately shot him in the face with his aforementioned 12 gauge. It's said that Mr. Schwebes probably never knew what hit him. When the teacher hit the ground, Kevin shot him once more, this time in the buttocks because he wrongly assumed Mr. Schwebes to be homosexual. The group didn't even bother to pick up the spent shells, they just left them at the scene.

There's really no telling what else would have happened or who else would've been hurt or killed had this group not been caught when they did; it's said that they had been planning to rob a local Hardee's restaurant when they were finally caught. Thankfully they were braggarts, and one of the teen's girlfriends couldn't keep the secret, she went to the police.

Craig and Brad faced no charges, while Tom and Chris Burnett both took deals; they plead guilty to lesser crimes and received very little punishment in exchange for their testimony against the main members of the group.

Chris Black, Derek Shields, and Pete Magnotti all pled guilty to first degree murder. Pete received 32 years imprisonment while Chris and Derek are serving life. The only one of the group to go to trial was Kevin Foster. On June 17th of 1998 Kevin was sentenced to death; he has appealed his conviction, but recently it was undecided if the penalty would stick. From what I understand there was a new trial in which Kevin blamed his upbringing for his actions and asked that his own life be spared. It was decided that Kevin will ultimately be put to death by the state of Florida.

*I think it was Dateline which aired a two hour special on this case, I would link it if I could find it. This special kinda irked me because, idk, it almost seemed like the man who covered it fell in love with Kevin. It made the small-time gang leader out to be more than he was, like he was this highly manipulative cult leading criminal mastermind, which just wasn't the case. Kevin wasn't well known, there was no big following, he was not a force to be reckoned with. In all actuality Kevin Foster was a nobody until he and his buddies came up with a menacing name, vandalized our city, burnt parrots alive, and murdered an unsuspecting teacher who would've kicked his butt had he not been ambushed. If you're interested in knowing more, there's a really decent book about the case, "Someone Has to Die Tonight" which is worth the read.

Sorry for the opinions on this one. This whole case upsets me, and if you know me at all then you are already aware that I am a parrot person. Some obsess over cats, other dogs, for me it's parrots; I have 6 of them. My husband is still ticked off about the Coca-Cola plant.

This is a link to Mr. Schwebes sibling's blog. She's a Rabbi, and these are her feelings about the murder, and the new penalty trial which Mark's family has recently had to endure-

https://barefootpreachr.wordpress.com/category/thats-life/mark-schwebes/page/2/

[porkchop-ao3]

Ok so imagine you are the last version of yourself so Rick keeps you heavily guarded in the citadel. He makes clones but they're not perfect so he protects the original. And your room is perfectly tailored to your interests and you get whatever you want you're just not allowed out

Thank you for this! I wrote this one for Miami Rick :) it’s a little over 3k words and it features a little bit of Daddy kink (only minor though, mentioned like twice). Hope you like it!

-

The sky was so blue. The sound of the waves was so soothing. I could almost smell the saltwater, could almost feel the sand beneath my feet. I spun in a circle, seeing the other beach-goers laying back in their bikinis and sunglasses, muscular men looking all oiled up and tanned. I sighed heavily and fell backwards, landing hard on the sand yet feeling no pain… feeling nothing at all. If I focused hard enough I could trick myself into feeling the warmth of the sun, hot, almost painfully so. But then the sound of a keypad being typed into, followed by an opening door could be heard, breaking me out of that tiny bit of emersion.

With a whine, I pulled the headset off, letting my eyes adjust to my actual surroundings. Marble floors, matte black walls with metallic gold patterns, lush fur rug. I didn’t sit up from the excessively soft bed I was laying on, exhausted. Not physically, but mentally. Completely and utterly drained from being in the same space for a month now, almost forgetting how a breeze felt, how fresh air smelled, how open spaces looked.

“Heeey, baby. Here- there’s my girl. I got some, uh, some new stuff for you.” Came Rick’s voice, and I let my eyes fall closed. The bed shifted, and I sensed a shadow being cast over me as he loomed over my body. He clicked his fingers twice in front of my face and I opened my eyes to glare at him. “Baby. Stuff.”

“Wonderful.” I sighed, sitting up and forcing him to move out of the way. He whipped off his sunglasses and spat his toothpick out; I watched it fly across the room and bury itself into the fur rug.

“Hey. Gimme a smile. You used to be- get so excited when I’d visit.” He pointed out and I forced a smile. “I-I got what you asked for, sweetie. Those nice chocolates you like? Got those. Uhh, a new game for you to play on th- on your computer.” He told me, peering into the big gift bag he had on his lap, speaking in this upbeat, encouraging tone. I watched him pull the items out one by one, placing them neatly on the bed. “Bottle of your favorite rosé, and a new glass to go with it. Crystal; I mean look at the cut on that stem. Muah.” He held the wine glass up to the light, and I watched it refract a rainbow across his face. “Isn’t that just beautiful?”

“It is. It’s very beautiful.” I said, sounding a lot less enthusiastic than him. He sighed and leaned over to place the glass and bottle of wine on the mirrored surface of the bedside table.

“You’re gonna like this next thing.” He said, rummaging around and pulling out a slim, velvet textured box, handing it over to me. I watched his excited expression for a moment before opening up the box. I was unsurprised at the garish display of wealth that sat inside, in the form of a necklace made up of large, perfect clarity diamonds. It was the sort of necklace reserved for royalty, but here it was in my possession, and I didn’t feel so much as a twinkle of emotion. I stared at it for a while, before looking up at Rick.

“Thank you.” I said, my voice sounding more monotonous than I’d intended. He narrowed his eyes at me, but before he could complain, I spoke again. “Did you get the other thing I wanted?”

He sighed heavily, but reached into the bag again. “Yes. Th-though I still don’t understand why you need it.” He said, and I snorted. “What, am I not satisfying you?” He sounded bitter. Extremely bitter.

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “Of course that’s not it.” I assured him, taking the box he held out from him. I didn’t waste a second before pulling open the box and taking out it’s contents. It was a vibrator.

“So why’d you need it?” He asked, and I looked at him with a deadpan expression.

“Really? Rick. I’m in here twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. There’s only so much you can do in one room, and it’s not like you’re here with me constantly, is it? Masturbating is literally the only thing I haven’t got bored of yet.” I told him brazenly.

“Wow, well, I can’t argue with that.” He admitted.

“Thanks for the new stuff.” I said, reaching into the bag on his lap, pulling out the last item that I knew was in there; a pack of batteries. “You can go now… you know, back outside. Back into the world.” I said, inserting the batteries into the toy and clicking it on, feeling a bubble of excitement at how strong it was. My attention was snatched, physically, as Rick grabbed my jaw and roughly pulled it to face him.

“Less of the fucking attitude okay? Y-you act like… like I’m a fucking monster or something.” He growled.

“A monster? No. You’re not scary enough.” I said in an even voice, pulling out of his grip.

“I’m doing this for your own good, you know.” He said, straightening up, all high and fucking mighty.

“Don’t pretend this is about me. I’m not stupid. You’re scared of losing me. And you’re so scared that you can’t see your actions; keeping me locked up in here in a bid to protect me, is what’s pushing me away from you.” I tossed the toy aside and sat up on my knees, looking down at him. “The world isn’t as big and bad and scary as you’re making out. And so what if I’m the only one left of me? What; if I wasn’t and I popped my clogs would you just hop to the next dimension and replace me?” I asked.

“Absolutely not. That’s not- that’s never been my intention. I’ve never wanted to replace you. You’re irreplaceable. Why’d you think I ditched the cloning idea?” He argued and I sighed.

“How very flattering, Rick. I’m sorry, I’m just not having it today.” I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I’m keeping you here so I know that you’re safe!” He shouted.

“From what?” I asked.

“From… from everything! This- this is a controlled environment. I’ve got surveillance on this place, I can keep an eye on you at all times and I know that you’re okay. If… if you’re out there, I’ve got no idea where you are or what you’re doing and I… I-I can’t fucking risk that, okay?” He said, his voice cracking with annoyance and some sort of emotion that seemed out of place in Rick. I sat back on my heels, looking down.

“So being locked in a room with no escape is safe? What if… What if there’s a fire?” I asked, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m not a fucking idiot, (y/n). There’s smoke detectors in this place, and if it’s triggered the door un-” I stopped himself, looking over at me and smacking his hand into his forehead. “Oh. Fantastic. Now you’re gonna start a fucking fire as soon as I leave.” he growled.

“Maybe I will.” I shrugged.

“You do that and I’ll fucking kill you myself.”

“Like that’s much of a threat. I’m barely living as it is.” I snorted.

“Don’t say that. I-I-I work hard to make this place nice for you. I get you everything you want and more. I don’t know what else I can do.”

“All I want is my freedom, Rick.” I told him, looking at him with sad eyes. I noticed a look of pain flicker over his face, but it was covered with a steely wall of indifference soon after.

“No can do.” He said.

“Right.” I nodded, my jaw tense. “Then… just go. Leave me be.” I said.

“You’re gonna do something, y-you’re plotting something.” he noted, and I shook my head.

“I’m simply going to try out my new toy.” I shrugged.

“If that’s the case, I’ll stay.” He stated, kicking off his shoes and getting comfy. I glared at him. “Go on, show me what fun you have when I’m not around.”

“I’m not doing that.” I refused, not moving from my spot.

“Why not?”

“Because I’d like to be alone.”

“If you’d prefer, I could go hide in the closet. You know, the walk in- the full walk in closet over there.” He said, and I raised a brow at his tone.

“What’s this? What’re you doing? Reminding me how much stuff you buy me?” I asked.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt, does it?” He said, and I laughed loudly, throwing my head back. He watched me expressionlessly.

“Seriously? You think designer clothes and shit is a substitute from being able to uh, to go outside?” I asked.

“You’ve got the headset- I made you the goddamn headset so you could go wherever the fuck you wanted.” He said, though all his anger seemed to have been drained. His voice almost completely void of emotion.

“It’s not real.” I said, and he just shrugged, getting up from the bed and pacing, dragging his hands over his face.

“Listen, (y/n), I'm… I’m conflicted here. You’ve gotta un-understand my point of view.” he started. I watched him, patiently waiting for his next words. “If you were to… if anything happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do. No, there’s absolutely nothing I could do. I’d be fucked.”

“Why? I’m not special. You could find any other young piece of ass to splurge all your money on. You’d forget about me in a week.”

“No! You’re fucking wrong, okay? Y-y-you’re not just a young piece of ass, Jesus Christ. I don’t want anybody else! Hey, you’re right, I could do that. I could find any other bitch in Miami and she’d be overjoyed to be in your position, she’d make my life way fucking easier than you do. But it’s not what I want.” He raised his voice, ranting with his arms flailing wildly. “You are special. You’re the most fuckin’ special person in the multiverse because there’s just one of you. It-it defies all logic, goes against everything I thought was true. That’s why I want you. I’m the only fucking Rick that’s got you an-and I’m not risking losing you.”

“So I’m like… a rare collectable item, hmm?” I asked.

“If you wanna put it like that, yeah. A collectable item that a whole bunch of me’s want, but only I’ve got. You see my problem?”

“Oh, oh I think so. You’re keeping me locked up in here, where all the other Rick’s can’t get to me?”

“Exactly!”

“So, uh, why’d you put me on the citadel of Rick’s, huh? In one of the flashiest fucking penthouses on the entire citadel? Isn’t it like, like a beacon? A big flashing neon sign?” I slid to the edge of the bed and got up, closing the gap between us. I had to crane my neck to look him in the eye, but I didn’t let that phase me. “It’s because you’re a goddamn show boater, isn’t it? You want everyone to know exactly who I belong to.”

Rick’s expression told me that I’d called him out. It went through stages, going from surprise, to guilt, to anger in a matter of a few seconds. He shook his head violently, shoving a finger in my face. “N-no! That’s ridiculous. I put you here because… cause it’s luxurious. I wanted you somewhere nice, I wasn’t gonna put you in-in a fucking shed somewhere.” He told me, and I snorted and his shit excuse.

“I know you Rick. I hit the nail on the head. I’m surprised you aren’t selling tickets to come and look at me, view me like a fucking zoo animal. And… and selling these boxes of chocolates to the ones that wanna fucking feed me or pet me.” I picked up the box of chocolates from the bed and pushed them into his chest before letting them drop to the floor. Rick just stood there and took it, watching me with a placid expression. “You don’t care about me. You think you do but you don’t. I’m just a possession to you, a prize, something to brag about. You don’t fucking care.” I spat, my vision blurring as my eyes welled up in anger. Once I was done, I stared him in the eye, waiting for his response, flinching when it came.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but I knew my words had the potential to hit him where it hurt. I waited for him to raise his voice at me, maybe even get physical, shove me away from him and portal me to the blender dimension or something. But none of that happened. Instead, he hugged me. He just fucking hugged me; squeezing me into his chest and resting his lips on the top of my head. I stood there, limp in his arms, eyes wide and body tense with surprise. Rick certainly wasn’t one for hugs, at least not ones like these. If he was gonna hug me, he’d have a hand on my ass and a boner rocking into my thigh. But this was… sweet.

He held me for a while, unmoving, before finally tightening his grip on me and lifting me up, carrying me to the bed and placing me down ever so gently. He cupped my cheeks and kissed me, it was not a lustful kiss, like he usually gave me. It was tender and passionate and full of affection. His fingers ghosted on down to my shoulders, and his head moved down with them, dotting kisses along the center of my throat, when he reached my silk blouse he unbuttoned it, his lips chasing the newly revealed skin until he reached my belly button. I stared down at him, and he caught my eye for a few seconds before he looked away, reaching for the sex toy discarded on the bed. My heart pounded and my tummy lurched with anticipation.

He ran his fingers over my slit, where it was covered only by a pair of panties; I often didn’t bother wearing pants these days. What was the point? My breath hitched at his touch and I rocked my hips up to catch more of it, but his hand was removed. It was soon replaced with the toy, and a low hum met my ears as soon as the vibrations pulsed over me, not quite touching my clit yet. I moaned quietly, closing my eyes and blindly reaching out, my fingers searching for him. He met me halfway, capturing my hand in his as he moved the toy to circle my clit through my underwear. I felt my muscles twitching already at the stimulation, and I knew this would be over quickly. Especially when he pressed the tip directly over that sensitive little button, keeping it there until I was squirming from too much stimulation too soon, effectively numbing me. Little whimpers came from my lips as I tried to cum, but simply couldn’t. Rick chuckled quietly and switched the toy off, putting it aside and removing my underwear.

He left me hanging for a while, letting my sensitivity come back, blowing gentle bursts of air over my pussy. By the time he touched me again, I was simply desperate. His tongue met my opening, making an upwards sweep to my clit, where he rolled it beneath his tongue. I squeezed his hand tightly and groaned, reaching my other hand up to fondle my breast, playing with my hardened nipple and shuddering at the sensations I was experiencing. He sucked gently on my clit, closing his mouth around it and flicking it with his tongue.

“Fuck.” I breathed, hips jumping on the bed. I needed to be filled, I felt empty and far too wet to be left that way. It was as if he’d read my mind, because he let go of my hand and the next thing I knew, he was teasing the toy over my opening. He eased it in; the thing was pretty slim but it had a flared tip that pressed against my g-spot just right. He didn’t turn it on right away, instead opting to thrust it in and out; slow and shallow. I moaned lowly and he hummed around my clit, thrusting faster. “Fuck.” I repeated.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? Cum for your daddy?” He purred, and his voice sent shock waves through me. I groaned loudly, and louder still when he clicked the toy on, sending hot pulses through my body, directly pressed against my g-spot.

“So close.” I sighed, burying my hand in Rick’s hair, pulling gently at the roots and gaining a hum of approval from him. He lifted his head, replacing his tongue with his fingers, rubbing my clit hard and fast.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked me, his voice a pleasant purr.

“Nobody.” I said through clenched teeth, and Rick chuckled, tilting the toy so it was pressed harder against that wonderful spot. My legs trembled and I lurched closer to climax, so very close. I clenched my muscles around the toy, and it made its effects earth shatteringly intense.

“Oh God!” I yelled, back arching.

“Tell me. Who do you belong to?” He repeated. I barely heard him, dangling so far off the edge of the precipice I could focus on nothing but the pleasure.

“Fuck you.” I growled, rocking down on him, chasing and chasing that explosion.

“You’re mine.” He told me with a serious tone, deep and intense. With that, I came; muscles fluttering, toes curling, breath absent. I barely registered Rick’s lips pressing kisses to my thigh as I came, or his satisfied moan as he watched my pussy contract. “Thaaat’s daddy’s good girl.” He said, thrusting the toy inside me though my comedown, finally sliding it out of me when I was a panting, limp, post-orgasmic mess, and he sucked the thing clean.

He crawled up my body and kissed me, his tongue sharing with me my taste. I slid a hand down his front, reaching for the hardness I knew I’d find, but he caught my wrist and pinned it next to me on the bed, preventing me from touching him. I whined in confusion and he broke the kiss, he looked down at my body, then back up to my eyes, a look of contemplation on his face.

“It’s late. You should go to sleep.” He told me, and I raised a brow at his words. He climbed off of me, straightening out his clothes and adjusting the hard on in his pants before he turned and left. I watched him walk out the door, closing it behind him. I watched the green light above it turn red, signifying my entrapment in the locked room. I sighed and let my head drop back against the bed, closing my eyes. I let the post-orgasm lethargy take over, curling up in a ball on my side.

When I woke the next morning, I knew something was different. It took me a while to pinpoint what it was, but when I did, my heart stopped. There above the door, shone a green light.