#Lie Cheat Steal Repeat

[nugothrhythms]

"Lie Cheat Steal Repeat" by Atlanta, Georgia-based deathrock act Whiphouse off of their 2024 debut demo.

Apparently the members of this band were all in popular local indie acts.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Brother makes a demon-haunted printer

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in RICHMOND TOMORROW (Mar 5) and in AUSTIN> on Mar 10. More tour dates here. Mail-order signed copies from LA's Diesel Books.

You guys, I don't want to bum you out or anything, but I think there's a good chance than some self-described capitalists aren't really into capitalism.

Sorry.

Take incentives: Charlie Munger, capitalism's quippiest pitchman, famously said, "Show me the incentive and I’ll show you the outcome." And here's some mindblowing horseshoe theory for ya: Munger agrees with the noted Communist agitator Adam Smith, whose anti-rentier, pro-government-regulation jeremiad "The Wealth of Nations" contains this notorious passage:

It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own self-interest. We address ourselves not to their humanity but to their self-love, and never talk to them of our own necessities, but of their advantages.

Incentives matter – if you design a system that permits abuse, you should expect abuse. Now, I'm not 100% on board with this: every one of us has ways to undetectably cheat the system and enrich ourselves, but most of the time, most of us play by the rules.

But it's different for corporations: the myth of "shareholder supremacy" has reached pandemic levels among the artificial lifeforms we call corporate persons, and it's impossible to rise through the corporate ranks without repeating and believing the catechism that there is a law that requires executives to lie, cheat and steal if it results in an extra dollar for the investors, in the name of "fiduciary duty":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/18/falsifiability/#figleaves-not-rubrics

And this attitude has leaked out into politics and everyday life, so that many of our neighbors have been brainwashed into thinking that a successful cheat is a success in life, that pulling a fast one "makes you smart":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/04/its-not-a-lie/#its-a-premature-truth

In a world dominated by a belief in the moral virtue and legal necessity of ripping off anyone you can get away with cheating, then, sure, any system that permits cheating is a system in which cheating will occur.

This shouldn't be controversial, but if so, how are we to explain the whole concept of the Internet of Things? Installing networked computers into our appliances, office equipment, vehicles and homes is an invitation of mischief: the software in those computers can be remotely altered after you purchase them, taking away the features you paid for and then selling them back to you.

Now, an advocate for market-based solutions has a ready-made response to this: if a company downgrades a device you own, this merely invites another company to step in with a disenshittifying plug-in that makes things better. If the company that made your garage-door opener pushes an over-the-air update that blocks you from using an ad-free, well-designed app and forces you to use an enshittified app that forces you to look at ads before you can open the garage, well, that's an opportunity for a rival company to sell you a better software update for your garage-door opener, one that restores the lost functionality:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

I'm no hayekpilled market truefan, but I'm pretty sure that would work.

However.

The problem is that since 1998, that kind of reverse-engineering has been a felony under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, which bans bypassing "an effective access control"

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

There's a pretty obvious incentive at play when companies have the ability to unilaterally alter how their products work after you buy them and you are legally prohibited to change how the product works after you buy them. This is the first lesson of the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

I've been banging this drum for decades now – like when I got into a public (friendly) spat with the editor of Wired magazine over their reviews of DRM-based media devices. I argued that it was irresponsible to review a device that could be unilaterally downgraded by the manufacturer at any time, without – at a minimum – noting that the feature you're buying the gadget for might disappear without warning after you've shelled out your hard-earned money:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/03/painful-burning-dribble/#law-of-intended-consequences

Of course, companies that get a reputation for these kinds of shenanigans might lose market share to better competitors. Sure, if the company that made your phone or your thermostat or your insulin pump reached into it across the internet and made it worse, you're shit out of luck when it comes to that device. But you can buy your next device from a better company, right?

Well, sure – in a competitive market, that's a plausible theory of "market discipline." Companies that fear losing business to rivals might behave themselves better.

In theory.

But in practice, the world's "advanced economies" have spent the past 40 years running an uncontrolled experiment in what happens if you don't enforce competition law, and instead allow companies to buy all their competitors. The result is across-the-board industrial oligopolies, cartels, duopolies and monopolies in nearly every category of good and service:

https://www.openmarketsinstitute.org/learn/monopoly-by-the-numbers

Now, even a duopoly has some competition. If you don't like Coke, there's always Pepsi. But again, in practice, companies in concentrated industries find it easy to "tacitly collude" to adopt one another's worst habits – the differences between the outrageous payment processing charged by Apple's App Store and the junk fees charged by Google Play are about as meaningful as the differences between Coke and Pepsi.

Which brings me to printers.

I know.

Ugh.

Printers are the worst and HP is the worst of the worst. For years, HP has been abusing its market dominance – and its customers' wallets – by inflating the price of ink and rolling out countermeasures to prevent you from refilling your old cartridges or buying third-party ink. Worse, HP have mastered the Darth Vader MBA, bushing updates to its printers that sneakily downgrade them after you've bought them and taken them home.

Here's a sneaky trick HP came up with: they send a "security update" to your printer. After you click "OK," a little progress bar zips across the screen and the printer reboots itself, and then…nothing. The printer declares itself to be "up to date" and works exactly like it did before you installed the update. But inside the printer, a countdown timer has kicked off, and then, months later, the "security update" activates itself, like a software Manchurian Candidate.

Because that "security update" protects the security of HP, against HP customers. It is designed to detect and reject the very latest third-party ink cartridges, which means that if you've just bought a year's worth of ink at Costco, you might wake up the next day and discover that your printer will no longer accept them – because of an update you ran six months before.

Why does HP put such a long fuse on its logic bomb? For the same reason that viruses like covid evolve to be contagious before you show symptoms. If the update immediately broke compatibility with third party ink, word would spread, and some HP customers would turn off their printers' wifi before the "security update" could be applied to them.

By asymptomatically incubating the infection over a long, patient timescale, HP maximizes the spread of the contagion, guaranteeing a global pandemic of enshittiification:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

HP has done this – and worse – over and over, and every time I write about it, people pop up to recommend their Brother printers as the enshittification-free alternative. I own a Brother, an HL3170-CDW laser printer that's basically indestructible, cheerfully accepts third-party toner, and costs almost nothing to run.

But I still don't connect it to my wifi. The idea that Brother is a better company than HP – that is possesses some intrinsic antienshittificatory virtue – has always struck me as a foolish belief. Brother has means, motive and opportunity to push over-the-air downgrades to block third-party ink as HP.

Which is exactly what they've done.

Yesterday, Louis Rossman, hero of the Right to Repair movement, revealed that Brother had just pushed a mandatory over-the-air update that locks out third-party ink:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpHX_9fHNqE

Rossman has a thorough technical breakdown of the heist, but it boils down to this. Brother is just as shit as HP. Look from the men to the pigs and the pigs to the men all you want – you will never spot the difference. Take the Pepsi Challenge – bet you won't be able to guess which is which:

https://wiki.rossmanngroup.com/wiki/Brother_ink_lockout_%26_quality_sabotage

This was the absolutely predictable outcome of the regulatory incentives our corporate overlords created, the enormous, far-reaching power we handed to these corporations. With that great power came no responsibility:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/26/ursula-franklin/#franklinite

Filling our devices with computers that run programs that can be changed in secret, that we're not allowed to inspect or alter? It's a recipe for a demon-haunted world, where the devices we entrust with our livelihood, our privacy and our wellbeing are possessed by hellions who escape from the digital Tartarus and are unleashed upon humanity.

Demons have possessed the Internet of Things. It's in Teslas:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

and in every other car, too:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

Our devices – phones, pacemakers, appliances and home security systems – are designed to prevent us to find out what they're doing. That means that when malicious software infects them, then – by design – these devices prevent us from knowing about it or doing anything about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/18/descartes-delenda-est/#self-destruct-sequence-initiated

This should not come as a surprise to anyone. Show me the incentive and I'll show you the outcome.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/05/printers-devil/#show-me-the-incentives-i-will-show-you-the-outcome

[cloudninetonine]

Have some sorta whump fic (I think that's what they're called?) because I have had this idea microwaving for a few months

Warnings: Talk of broken arm, description of broken arm and resetting it,

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

You’re like a wild animal, is all Wild can think.

You back away from them all, making yourself as big as possible- as loud as you can. Your scream echoes through the trees as it catches the wailing wind from the earlier storm that had left them with this mess- and with you an oddly bent arm that was most certainly broken.

“I promise, it will be quick.”

Warriors promise holds truth, he wouldn’t lie about something so serious. Or would he? Wild knew that to well, he thought about the poor bystander caught up by the black blooded. A pool of crimson surrounded the poor traveler's body, her tears sullying her paling cheeks as dimming eyes focused on that of the Captain as he tightly held her hand in her last few moments.

“It will be okay, everything will be alright.”

Her last breath was something that weighed heavy on the man’s shoulders, Wild knew that all too well.

“You’re a fucking liar, Wars!” Desperate and scratching, Wild knew that your throat felt raw from all the screaming. Impressive how you held out, your refusal to have anyone be near your broken appendage was almost as admirable as it was frustrating. “Stay the fuck away! I’ll deal with it myself!”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Four asks seriously, trying to be the voice of reason, “(Name), we have to reset it.”

“I’ll just drink a red potion!”

“That won’t work, it will just heal uneven-”

Your free hand comes to slam against your temple in your attempt to block out their reason, a screaming repeat of the words “shut up, shut up, shut up!” sliding off your tongue as you backed further and further into the small landslide you have initially fallen from. It wasn’t your fault, the rain had blinded you, they should have stopped earlier but they had trodden on in hopes of finally stopping at the next stable to properly rest.

“The pain is only temporary.” Time’s tone held sympathy but his words certainly didn’t help. “Once we set it, the potion will completely numb the pain-”

The panicked tears in your eyes hurt Wild to a physical point. Your always told him you were afraid of pain, even as that guiding ball of light within his chest you were honest about your distaste for the sensation. Pain was painful, a little bit sucked but a lot of it sucked more- if you could avoid pain then you would, even if it only brought worse consequences, you would do anything to avoid pain.

In this moment, he could tell you were trying to stall as long as you can, but he also knew that if it kept going, then this wouldn’t go anywhere. This needed to be stopped and it needed to be stopped now.

“It’s okay, let’s just gather ourselves.” Hyrule smiled towards you warmly, but the spark in his eyes held something else; he was conspiring, but more from concern than anything else. “We won’t touch your arm, okay?”

Your looked frantic. “What? Why the switch up? What are you doing?”

“Nothing- nothing, I promise.” He stepped forward, his hands glowing gently with the power of his healing as a warm smile grew on his face. “Here, I’ll take some of the pain away, okay?”

“Four said it’ll heal weird-” Indeed and Four was looking at the traveller in an odd way. “What are you doing, Hyrule? What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“You promise?” He went to speak when you reached out your free hand, pinky finger out. “Pinkie promise, right fucking now, do it, Hyrule.”

Hyrule was a good liar. Surprising, being part fairy, but not as surprising when you knew the kind of horrors that laid out back in his time. To lie, cheat and steal was to be safe in his time. To become a trickster was the closest to survival- Hyrule was a trickster. Hyrule had lied, he had cheated and he had stole all in the name of survival. Wild knew that, Legend knew that, a lot of the men here knew that, one too many bonfires would tumble any secrets from a mans lips. 

So, Wild noticed when Hyrule’s other hand came to move behind his back, watched how his fingers crossed over just as he interlaced his pinky into yours. “I promise.”

Wild slipped a little closer, Warriors slipped a little closer and as did Twilight.

Hyrule had moved behind you, your hawk eyes watching every movement of his and not focused as the three other men got closer to you.

Wild hoped you forgave them for this, hoped your forgave him for this betrayal.

“Hyrule, why isn’t it working?” The light hand vanished, his hand still gently hovering but not there- where you needed it. “Link-”

You noticed the others.

And you shrieked.

It wasn’t much of a fight but you certainly did try- some blood dripped carefully down Twilight’s face as he pinned your flailing legs down to the muddy grass below. Wild held your free hand in a tight grip, Hyrule brushing back your hair while Warrior’s held the broken limb carefully, his eyes sad as he watched you with sympathy. 

The five kept back and waited, not wanting to crowd your already panicking self as you sobbed and gagged, bile threatening to fight it’s way out of your throat from fear.

“It’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Fuck you, Hyrule! Fuck you!” You wailed, shaking your head desperately, “You promised!  You promised!!!”

“I know.” Warriors gave him a nod and Hyrule brushed some more hair back, “I’m sorry, I’m a liar.”

“You are, you fucking-”

SNAP!

…

You inhaled.

And you screamed.

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 10: After a Love Test

Chapter 10: After a Love Test

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 3, Canon-typical violence, insecurities, jealousy, clowns

WC: 1.8k words, 10/18 chapters

Summary: Set at the start of Act 3, time with a dyrad leads to some jealousy and some fluff.

Ao3 | [Hug9][Hug11] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

Somehow, despite the tumult, despite the horrors of the Shadowlands, your group has stumbled into what can only be described as a fresh, new hell. Or as Karlach eagerly exclaimed, “The Circus!” While your companions are all as Baldurian as you are, only Karlach seemed truly excited to stumble upon the brightly-colored, boisterous affair. 

That being said, you’re a sucker for her big, puppy dog eyes, so the entire group files in past the security. You lie and say something about being a knife thrower– not hard to believe considering how you’re equipped– but the chortle from Astarion almost gives you away. It tells you all you need to know, but he whispers to you anyway, “You? A knife-thrower? You’d sooner throw your boot at an enemy.” He’s not wrong, and you’re annoyed at how well he knows you.

“Oh, hush,” you whisper back. “Or if they put us to work, I’ll throw my knives at you.” It doesn’t wipe the grin from his face, but he does let it go.

After some odd adventures with a Djinni, speaking to a rather funny little kobold, and knicking a few items from every stall and unsuspecting spectator, you are starting to find yourself having actual fun. Perhaps it’s the petty theft– your favorite– or more likely, the company. Every time you have a wicked little thought on what to steal, Astarion is right behind you, ready to act on it. Even Shadowheart, who is usually thoroughly fed up with your antics, cracks a smile when Astarion nabs the cheating Djinni’s ring. 

You begin to see why Karlach was so very excited to find a circus, and you give yourself to the atmosphere of the place. That’s why, when your group stumbles upon a dryad proclaiming to give love readings, you don’t shy away. In fact, when she declares that you’re in love in front of the group, your lover included, you don’t even blush.

Astarion stands proud at your admission, his head tilting up every so slightly. You can tell that he’s feeling quite pleased, so much so that when you ask him if he’d like to do the love test with you, he doesn’t hesitate.

The group, the circus fades away, an idyllic scene taking its place. A series of three questions pass, and with each answer, you take a step closer to your elven lover. Something about the picturesque scene fills you with a deep wish to run away together, find yourselves a secluded moment like this, away from even this dryad’s prying eyes. Astarion closes the gap between you, the test complete and your love thrumming– or whatever Zethino proclaimed. 

“How close you are, two hearts beating a perfect rhythm,” the dryad says, her tone melodic and lulling. “But I know the truth. Only one face holds your dreams each night. Close your eyes, sweetness, and she will come to you.”

What? you think to yourself. You turn toward Astarion who is looking at you, eyes widening ever so slightly in shock. There’s a pain to them that begins to surface, and you shake your head, trying to reassure him.

“Close your eyes,” Zethino repeats. You hesitate, you know you don’t love anyone else, but you were the one who suggested you did this little love test, so it’s up to you to play along. You close your eyes.

There are a few moments of silence, only the sounds of the circus coming through and you begin to wonder if she means to show you anything at all. You open your eyes to ask as much, only to be face-to-face with a grotesque, unnervingly familiar face: the woman from the mindflayer colony.

You recoil at her pale, unnatural visage, and make eye contact with Astarion, who is already reaching for a blade. The woman, Orin, doesn’t seem to be here to fight though. After posturing, not even allowing you to get a single word in, she dissipates into the air. For some reason, your first thought is born of a childish disappointment, was there ever any kind of love test?

The group is phased at this, naturally– she’s confirmed that she’s stalking you all, that she could be watching from any corner, wearing any face. So when you get back to enjoying what’s left of the circus, Astarion’s stormy expression and agitated twitches seem entirely warranted. 

You try not to let it get to you, but after a few minutes of this, you say to Karlach and Shadowheart, “You go on ahead, I want to check out this bard with Astarion. Maybe try pickpocketing some distracted audience members.” 

Karlach is already mostly over the whole shapeshifter thing, back into full on circus mode. “Say no more, soldier. Shadowheart, let’s go look at the animals!”

Once they turn the corner, you face Astarion. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what,” he says, looking down at his nails nonchalantly, steadfastly ignoring your searching eyes.

“You’re brooding,” you say, reaching out a hand for his. You wait a moment for him to accept it, and when he neither avoids it, nor accepts it, you gently grab a few of his fingers. “Is it Orin?”

His hand relents easily, and, as if moving on its own, intertwines his fingers with your own. “No,” he starts. “Well, kind of.” You wait patiently for him to sort out his thoughts, rubbing a thumb over one of his knuckles to the jaunty beat of the bard next to you.

After a bit, he says, “We’ve been entirely too open and trusting. Even if she wasn’t Orin, wouldn’t you say we were left too vulnerable there, dear.”

You try your best to keep your expression neutral. His concerns are valid, his fears coming from a very real place. But your stomach drops at the idea that this could shatter whatever safety he’s started to feel. “You’re not wrong, love,” you start, measuring your words carefully. “But we know how to handle ourselves. Even as Orin, I know we could take her.”

“You might be right, but that doesn’t mean we should be putting our lives into anyone’s hands but our own,” he scoffs, fingers clasping tightly over yours, as if these two pairs of hands are the only ones that you can trust. “Baldur’s Gate is more dangerous than anything the Shadowlands could throw at us because the dangers look so… mundane.”

“I know,” you say. “All I can say is that I care for you, Astarion. And no matter what the city throws at us, we’ll be together to face it. Just like the love test today.”

The vampire rolls his eyes at your words, but a smile finally creeps onto his face. “Ugh, you’re so utterly saccharine,” he responds. But, despite his words, his arms pull you into a big hug, enveloping you in a blanket of cool leather and his familiar scent. “That being said, if you ever want to do another love test, I'm going to have to squeeze you to death.”

You laugh into his shoulder and say, “Fine, fine. We’ll have to trust that our bond is unbreakable without a magical Master of Love telling us so.”

“Exactly, I don’t need some stranger to tell me what we already know.” He sounds confident, assured to start. But a moment later, his voice comes out as sulky when he follows up with. “It’s not like you have another, more handsome lover like she suggested, right?”

An odd response from him, especially with the petulant face and tone. And you don’t recall the dryad using the word ‘handsome.’ Is he… “Were you… jealous?” you ask, lifting your head up. You’re not teasing, just genuinely wondering if that small statement from an evil woman could elicit such a reaction from your love.

“I was not jealous,” Astarion responds, aghast. “What is there to be jealous of, that ridiculous shapeshifter? A fictional person laying in wait? A particularly muscular tiefling whose company you enjoy? I think not.”

His body betrays his words, his arms around you squeezing almost painfully tight as he talks. You haven’t seen true jealousy on him before, only the occasional moments of self-deprecation or worry, and something about it makes you want to go right back to teasing. “Oh, I don’t know. A shapeshifter could look like anyone, imagine all of the possibilities of a shapeshifting lover,” you say, an exaggerated tone of wistfulness in your voice.

In a wry tone, he responds, “There are scrolls for that.”

“I’m just kidding!” You nudge him playfully in the side. “I don’t actually want a shapeshifter, alright? You’re perfect the way that you are.” He preens a little at that and loosens his grip on you– You take the opportunity to slip out of his arms and look at him head-on. “Now tell me, did she bother you that much?”

“What do you want me to say?” He raises his arms in exasperation. “That when she said you had another love it felt like a troll had taken a club to my chest?”

“I like the imagery,” you remark, helpfully.

“Thank you,” he says, sighs, and continues, calmer now. “Some– very small– part of me was worried. I meant it when I said you deserve something real. You deserve more than real, and what if… what if that just isn’t something a runaway vampire spawn can offer?”

“My love,” you melt under his words, under his pleading red gaze, begging you to love him for who he is– as if you don’t already feel the weight of that love with every single breath you take. “You are so much more than you know. May I hug you?”

He nods, his expression pulling at each and every one of your heart strings. His eyes stay trained on you as you pull him back towards you. You bury your face in his neck and say, “I promise you have no one to be jealous of, I can confidently say no one compares.”

Astarion gives a shaky sigh. “I know. I am phenomenal.” 

You stifle a chuckle. “That you are.”

As is typical with an adventuring party like yours, these secluded moments are few and far between. A familiar booming voice crashes into your hug. “Look what I found!” Karlach exclaims. “Face paint, just like the clowns! Fangs, please tell me I can put some face paint on you.”

The vampire stiffens in your arms at the sound of that, but the wheels of mischief are already spinning in your head. “Karlach,” you say. “I think that might be the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“Oh, I know,” she responds, a few kits in hand. “But don’t think you’re escaping either soldier.”

You look at Astarion, mirroring the same panic on his face. Releasing him from your arms, you access the situation. “If we split up, she can’t catch us both.”

“After you, my dear,” he responds.

You turn, only to find Shadowheart waiting, a wicked grin on her face. “Oh no, you don’t. You’ve both had your fun today. Time for us to have ours.”

It’s not long before you and your lover match, sporting the garish colors of a painted clown. Normally, you’d hate this and, on the surface, you certainly still do. But deep down, you feel a lighthearted joy– you told Astarion you’d face anything together, you suppose the circus is no different.

[cactusisconfused]

Not Even Death Can Do Us Part

Soap cheats death.

( Here's the AO3 link if you would prefer to read there.)

-

“John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, KIA” the paper reads.

The paper feels like a lie.

Maybe if Ghost stares long enough he’ll find the truth that must be hidden between the thin white lines in between letters and blacked out sentences.

Maybe if he stares at the paper, forever searching, he won’t have to see Johnny’s blood on his hands. 

Ghost knows what he’s doing isn’t exactly healthy, and really that isn’t new for him, but he just can’t let Johnny go, not when he was all Ghost had- all that Simon had.

He knows the looks he’s been getting from Price and Gaz. He knows he’s one pick up of a pen away from being sent on mandatory leave to ‘set himself straight.’ 

A part of him is frustrated with himself, that he can’t just move on like he did for everything else- for everyone else. Though he never did, did he? But Johnny helped guide him in the right direction and now, without his guidance, Simon is lost in a deep sea of nothing.

Waves crash into him, stealing what little energy he has left to keep himself sane, keep himself standing.

Always he sees the bright blue eyes piercing the blackness. Maybe if he just reached a little further- if he just pushed a little harder and ignored the black dots swirling around in his eyes- he could have his Johnny back.

“Simon.” Johnny’s voice calls out, the leagues of water doing nothing to mute his voice. “Take my hand.” Johnny says ever so softly, a gift Simon never deserved. 

Simon kicks his legs, desperate and uncoordinated but he’s so close- just a little further- just a little bit more-...

It’s not long before Simon’s vision gets swallowed whole by swarming black dots. But he likes to think that maybe in his last moment of consciousness, he felt a warm hand against his own and the quietest whisper from some voice giving him ease as he drifts off to face hell itself.

“I’ve got you Simon.”

-

It takes an embarrassingly long amount of time for Ghost to force himself out of his bed. He’d been getting those dreams for a long while now. The dream mingling and blending with all the other nightmares Ghost’s brain had accumulated just for his sanity to ‘enjoy’.

How rotten his own brain is. Forced to watch every failure in his life on repeat forever. His failure to save his family from his father, his failure to save his family yet again as they burned from Simon’s own wrongdoing. It should have been him in there, to be the only one in there. The only one to burn. Yet there he stood outside the raging fire, dog tags in hand with a news report the next day to say he was the killer to his own beloved family. He swore to be ‘The Ghost’ since then. No face, no personality, no connections. Just a bloodlust machine, a rabid dog for those that want death. That had always seemed to be what Simon was good for, if anything at all.

Then Johnny came and oh, how the world was spun anew, like a new thread spun to a bobbin. Ghost couldn’t remember the last time he had seen so much light, so much life in someone’s eyes. Ghost had sworn that he wouldn’t include himself to any other being, lest his curse be added to another. Yet Simon grew soft, his shadow blinded by Johnny’s blazing light. A dangerous fire that Johnny bestowed to Simon and what a fool he was to take it. He only ever smothered the flames of life, slowly and torturously sucking the oxygen from the burning charcoal, letting the bright flame die small and miserable. He should have said no.

But Simon Riley is a fool with a far too human heart.

He promised to care for the flame, cherish it. Yet he watched it sputter and fade as Johnny lay dead on the pavement in that tunnel.

Now yet another failure adds to the collection, the image of those sapphire eyes, always reaching out a hand, promising so many things that Simon shouldn’t listen too, like an enticement from a god who only wishes mischief. But Simon will never learn as his hand always reaches and always misses. He wants desperately to say he had grabbed it this time before the black in his eyes swallowed him whole, like a parasitic algae to coral.

But no. 

It’s best to will that degrading hope away before it consumes him whole.

Simon stares up at the cold, gray ceiling above him. He doesn’t need to look at his alarm clock to know he’s up at an ungodly hour.

Quietly, making no sound beside the slight creek of the bed, Ghost sits up. He knows damn well he’s not going back to sleep, he might as well make himself useful. 

-

The day is uneventful, whether that’s a blessing or a curse Ghost isn’t exactly sure. He finds himself not caring much.

It’s until the end of the day that he gets the smallest bit of reprieve, standing on top of the base's roof, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. The smell of the smoke wafting in the air is putrid but familiar. The world is still, only leaves against leaves as the wind pushes past them. 

That is until a voice breaks it and the world goes still. Almost like the whole world was threatened, unsure and deathly afraid.

“I thought you said you would quit smoking L.t.” The voice comes from behind him. Ghost straightens and slowly turns to the direction of it.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish stands a few feet away from Ghost. His hands in his pocket, nonchalant. His skin is pale and slightest bit transparent. His eyes are as blue as ever with a contrast of maroon that seeps from the entrance and exit wound of the bullet hole in the scot’s head. They stand staring for a moment before, Johnny’s face looks almost relieved and another emotion ready to explode but carefully tampered down, like waiting for a shoe to drop. Ghost however is trying to figure out how his mind is able to conjure an hallucination so vividly.

Eventually, Ghost just shakes his head as he turns back around. Maybe if he ignores it, it will go away.

However, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley has never had a fair life and that sure as hell wasn’t about to change.

There was no signal that this Not Johnny had moved. The only telltale sign was the Not man moving into Ghost’s peripheral view. 

He can see Not Johnny observing him, Ghost remains ever quiet and stoic, as he looks out at the darkened forest that surrounds the base. It’s a quiet night, only a skeleton crew running the base and nothing but the flickering stars above…Johnny really would have loved this.

With a quiet exhale to ignore the sudden tightness in his throat, he brings the cigarette up to his exposed mouth, his balaclava sitting on the bridge of his nose. 

What gives him pause however is when Not Johnny reaches his hand up and takes the cigarette out of Ghost’s hand and puts it out on the concrete wall of the roof.

“You know smoking isn’t good for you Si.” Not Johnny says in the soft voice of his, like he’s trying to not spook a feral cat. Always, he was careful and gentle and all the things Simon shouldn’t experience. He’s done nothing to gain that opportunity.

After a moment, Ghost’s brain catches up. How the fuck did this hallucination just interact with a physical object?

“What the fuck?” Is all Ghost can get out, his voice blunt from shock. Did he hallucinate putting out the cigarette too? No, the cigarette is right there, on the concrete fence, still scrunched and out and being moved subtly each time the wind blows.

Ghost isn’t startled by anything, nothing ever gets to him no matter how much gore there is or how sudden something may be, Ghost is solid and unmovable.

But Simon? He’s petrified of everything, truly like a skittish cat. So right here, standing on the roof staring at an imitation of his dead lover as it had physically taken Simon’s cigarette and put it out- Simon’s so sure he’s fallen off the deep end. He’s finally broke.

Simon Riley has finally broken. He swears he can hear Roba laughing in his grave.

“You’re not real.” Simon whispers under the moonlight above. “You’re not real.” He tries again, whether to convince himself of that or the hallucination of Johnny he doesn’t know. He ignores it as his eyes become blurry.

He hears Not Johnny make a wounded sound in his throat, a careful hand moving to hold Simon’s cheek, guiding him to face Johnny. And maybe, if Simon tries hard enough, he can pretend that the warmth in that soft hand on his cheek is real.

“I know what this looks like love, I know, I’m sorry for what you’re going through but I’m here love. I don’t know how but I’m here. I am real, I promise.” Not Johnny says softly, his thumb catching and wiping away a rogue tear that had fallen from the precipice of Simon’s tear duct.

“Stop….Please I can’t-... don’t do this to me Johnny.” Simon practically begs, his voice quiet and unstable. Ghost has never believed in any higher power but right here in Not Johnny’s arms, he begs the mother of earth herself to stop playing this cruel trick on Simon. Just this once. 

Just this once.

Johnny shakes his head, moving to embrace Simon as a whole which Simon falls into. Warm hands caress over where Simon’s hair is covered by the balaclava.

“I’m here Si, I swear to you on everything there is, I’m here. I can prove it, but…I think you should get some rest first love, you look tired.” Simon lets a few more tears fall at Johnny’s words. Maybe, just for tonight, he can play along. Have one more night with his Johnny even if it isn’t real.

“Haven’t been able to sleep since you left.” Simon mumbles into Not Johnny’s neck, Simon’s face hidden from the world.

“Let’s fix that then, yeah?” Not Johnny whispers, his own voice shaky. Slowly, Not Johnny leads Simon to stand, a warm hand on his arm.

They walk silently to Simon’s room and Ghost is thankful that no one else was walking those same halls then. How odd it must look for Ghost to lean on the support of a person who wasn’t there.

Upon opening the door to Simon’s room, it’s just as empty and void of life as it had ever been, save for a few trinkets on his desk that Johnny had given him.

At some point, Ghost notices that Not Johnny is speaking but he doesn’t listen, as sure as he is that the words must be important- every word that Johnny had ever said was important- he just lets the words dance around in the air, the sound of a soft melody that he so dearly misses. At some point he undresses himself and lets himself be led to his own bed. As he lays down, Not Johnny shifts from one leg to the other. A hallucination that’s uneasy, Ghost might have laughed if he were someone else.

“Mind if I sleep you tonight?” Simon looked at Not Johnny for a long moment. He’s still wearing the same gear and outfit he had on when a bullet went through his head and in the delusion of his mind, he didn’t want any dirt and such in his bed.

“Get changed first.” His voice, while quiet, seems to echo in the room. To his surprise, Not Johnny did as asked. At first it was his tac vest, which disappeared as it hit the ground. They both watched it fall, Simon with almost disinterest and Not Johnny with a fascinated expression. Maybe Simon’s brain doesn’t have the energy to hallucinate anything other than Johnny and what's on him.

Once Not Johnny finishes undressing, he carefully moves to lay against Simon. The fit is tight, it always has been between the two hulking men attempting to fit on a borderline twin mattress.

They maneuver slightly in the bed so Not Johnny has his back against the mattress while Simon lays on top of the Scot. 

Maybe, Simon thinks as he lets his eyes slip closed, maybe he can allow himself to imagine the faintest beating of a heart inside of Johnny’s chest.

He knows it’s wrong to indulge, given how warped his sense of reality already is, but just for tonight he’ll have this.

Johnny will be gone in the morning anyway and can let this fantasy go and come back to reality.

-

Simon doesn’t dream that night.

Instead, he wakes slowly, the light from the sun bleeding into the crevices of his closed blinds. It’s been ages since he’s slept so well, the last time had been when…well before Johnny’s death.

Simon allows himself a few more minutes of respite, before moving himself to sit up before he’s abruptly stopped by a quiet groan below him. Simon’s eyes snap to the man below him, wide brown eyes linking with sky blue, the sun warming the hue just so.

Simon remains frozen as he stares. Tentatively, Not(?) Johnny’s hand moves to rest on Simon’s face, and god that smile, Simon doesn’t know how he could ever live without it. 

“How are you…?” The words die on Simon’s throat, never has he had a hallucination that’s lasted this long. 

“You’re not going mad, I’m here, I just so happened to break a few rules of the world.” Is all Not(?) Johnny whispers into the shared air between the two of them.

Simon doesn’t respond, his exhausted brain trying to kick into overdrive. Logically he wants to say he’s still hallucinating, but this is-…it’s all too real.

Not(?) Johnny has saturation back into his skin, the vague transparency barely there. But that warmth feels so real as it radiates from Johnny’s body underneath him.

“What?” Is all Simon can manage out, his mind raging with questions and disbelief. But there in the center of his being is that stupidly bright hope that he thought he snuffed out ages ago.

Not(?) Johnny continues to caress Simon’s cheek, knowing all too well what’s going on in Simon’s head.

“I made a deal,” Johnny starts softly.

“But before I explain, do you truly believe I’m here?” 

Simon looks at Not(?) Johnny for a moment, his mind reeling and lost. He wants to say yes, that he sees that his Johnny is right there, but he knows he shouldn’t, knows this is at the end of the day, is all a ruse his mind is playing on him. So slowly, ever so slowly he shakes his head.

Not(?) Johnny sighs but doesn’t look surprised. “Can’t blame you, I would think the same too, were I in your position.” 

They stare at each other for a long moment,  Not(?) Johnny, clearly thinking. After a moment that feels like hours, though was probably no more than just a few seconds, Not Johnny leans forward, his hand still resting on Simon’s cheek as the other guides his lips to Simon’s.

The kiss is soft and at first barely there. But it’s undeniably real. It’s undeniably real as soft lips meet chapped scarred ones and the kiss turns to tongue and teeth. It’s undeniably real as Simon gets pushed on his back, Johnny on top of him as he pushes deeper into the kiss, like he can’t get enough. Like it’s a breath of oxygen after resurfacing above water after almost drowning. 

Like he’s alive.

It’s undeniable as Johnny’s tears fall to Simon’s face, as he pulls back to sob into Simon’s neck, apologizing for leaving Simon for so long, apologizing for the pain Simon had gone through with Johnny’s absence.

Simon reaches out to embrace his lover, the Scot having no transparency and the bullet wound in his head nothing more than a scar. With a gentle hand, Simon reaches up to feel said scar, the wound is fair and no blood remains.

Simon shushes Johnny’s apologies as they both allow their emotions to break through the dam. Never once would he ever blame any of this on Johnny. Johnny would never be the one to blame. Never.

As both of their adrenaline calms down and the world expands to be more than just the two of them, they lay back down as they were earlier. Simon’s balaclava discarded and thrown somewhere on the floor; Johnny had requested to see his face and how could Simon ever say no to his Johnny.

“How?” Simon asks eventually as his brain catches up with the fact that his once dead lover is now, not dead.

Johnny’s hand in Simon’s curls pauses as a focused look appears on Johnny’s face, a telltale sign that he’s thinking.

“It’s going to sound crazy.” Johnny says quietly, like he himself is still trying to believe it.

“I wouldn’t expect any less, especially after I watched you die only for you to come back out of nowhere.” Simon responds bluntly.

Johnny smiles at Simon. “You know me too well, Si.”

There’s a moment of silence, nothing but faint footsteps of the rookies being run about through their courses and birds whistling and chirping outside.

“I had died, which… I’m still getting over that.” Soap starts, his eyes focused on the ceiling above, trying to think.

“I had heard a voice, I don’t know who’s and I didn’t know the words being spoken but I somehow just…understood.” Johnny’s eyebrows furrow, Simon says nothing so Johnny can keep his focus.

“They had said they’d were bored and decided that I could have a chance to beat death. I agreed,” Johnny’s eyes flick to Simon’s for a moment with a slight smirk on his face.”I couldn't stay away from you for too long.” His voice softens again as he speaks, his hand continuing its carding through Simon’s hair.

“It had two main parts to it. The first would be that I would be in someone’s dream, that person would have to take my hand. If they never did then I would’ve been stuck there for the rest of eternity. If they did grab my hand…” Johnny looks Simon in his eyes just as soon as Simon understands. 

“…then part two would happen. I would be brought into the physical world, but I would be nothing more than a ghost, really. Which I guess I was. I was see through, couldn’t pick anything up and no one could see me. Not even you.”

Simon’s eyebrows furrowed as a bout of confusion spread through him. “But I did see you.” Simon says and continues after a beat. “You took my cigarette.” Johnny nod’s and gives a small chuckle.

“Aye, you did see me, but not before. I was following you all day. But I couldn’t get your attention, I tried Gaz and Price too, but to no avail.” 

“So why was I able to see you on the roof?” Johnny looks at Simon for a moment as his mouth opens and closes like a fish for a few moments before he shrugs.

“My best guess is that you hit a good point of denial.” A sad look settles in Johnny’s eyes, a thousand apologies settled in them. 

“And that made you visible?”

Johnny shrugs. “The way for the deal to work was that to bring me back completely, someone had to truly believe I’m still here- or more so that I can be brought back. So I guess so. I never really asked beyond what I was told. If I know anything, it’s to not fuck with deity and their patience.”

They both let that implication seep and float into the air.

“So that’s why you’re back now.” Simon asks quietly, though it’s more a statement then anything else. 

“Believe so.” Johnny moves to give a soft kiss to Simon’s forehead. “Only a scar left to savor the memory by.” Johnny jokes though it lands a slight bit sour, Simon doesn’t say anything though, he knows he joked about worse and at the worst times.

They lay together for a long while, long enough that Simon is sure he’ll be hearing from Price soon. Simon knows Price knows what Ghost and Soap were or…are, though he never said anything. The man is simply always a few steps ahead. But given so, he knows price has given him a bit more leniency, though notably he’s done the same for Gaz. A good captain, that Price.

“What did it feel like?” Simon eventually asks. He’s met death's face more times then he can count, but he’s never slipped so far into death's cold hands to be taken.

“What did what feel like?” Johnny asks. It was deflection, they both know it. 

“Death.” Johnny goes quiet once Ghost says the words. Johnny’s eyes search the ceiling once again, as though it could give him answers to Simon’s query.

“Cold.” Is all Johnny can muster.

“I’m sorry.”

Johnny’s eyes fall back to Simon’s bourbon gold. “I know love. You couldn’t have changed anything.”

Simon had lots of arguments against that statement. That Johnny should get away from run far away from the curse that is Simon Riley, that he had survived him once, what are the chances he would survive again? 

But right now, he can’t help but be a bit selfish. To enjoy the company of his lover that he thought he lost for good. His Johnny. His Johnny that is warm with a beating heart. His Johnny who is alive and breathing and there.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t reach for you sooner.” Simon speaks into Johnny’s chest, his ear listening to his favorite song that only Johnny’s heart can make. Once again, the other’s eyebrows furrow in slight confusion.

“In the dream, it took me months to get to you and even this time when I did, I almost missed.” Simon elaborated the unspoken fear that Simon would have been keeping Johnny trapped by his failure to reach him settled between the two. Johnny didn’t say anything.

“But you didn’t, and because you didn’t, because you were so determined, I’m here. Even if you didn’t, even if you missed a thousand more times, I would have been happy to just see that once more. You made death a little less cold… which is shocking since you seem to be a human fridge.” Johnny gave enough time to let his words be genuine and heard before he said that last part, It wouldn’t be Johnny if he didn’t have a joke in there somewhere.

Simon can’t help but smile. He knows the both of them are fucked in the head, especially after all this. Simon wonders if the two of them should consider retirement though that thought seems to petrify Ghost. Maybe a thought for another time.

 Leaving right here and right now to be a warm moment with soft kisses and words between Johnny and Ghost.

Not even death can do them part.

-

[numberonetacostan]

WHO WANTS THE INSANE SLEEP DEPRIVED RAMBLINGS OF A MAD PERSON? OF COURSE YOU DO!

Alright, I think taco has ASPD. Aside from the general oooo bad guy has ASPD, she shows so much of it within her character-

ASPD diagnostic criteria:

A. A pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others occurring since at least 15 years of age, as indicated by three or more of the following:

1. failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors, as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest.

2. Deceitfulness as indicated by repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for personal profit or pleasure.

3. Impulsivity or failure to plan ahead.

4. Irritability and aggressiveness as indicated by repeated physical fights or assaults.

5. reckless disregard for safety of self or others.

6. Consistent irresponsibility, as indicated by repeated failure to sustain consistent work, behavior, or honor financial obligations.

7. Lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another.

B. The individual is at least age 18.

C. There is evidence of conduct disorder with onset before 15 years.

D. The occurrence of antisocial behavior is not exclusively during the course of schizophrenia or bipolar disorder.

———

So let’s get this started with the ones that don’t apply to Taco:

A3. Taco has been shown to meticulously plan things within the show, and seems to dislike when people act impulsively. (However, I may give half points on that, as her reveal at the end of season one seem entirely impulsive, same with her regarding her relationship with Pickle as meaning nothing to her)

A6. I’m pretty sure we have not been shown anything about Taco that directly states or implies that she is irresponsible, and if we have they’re small enough instances to not be considered for consistent irresponsibility.

B & C. These ones are more border ones, as Taco’s intended age is unknown (as far as I’ve searched, please correct me if I’m wrong), and for C, we don’t know if Taco was created with a history of these characteristics as part of her “backstory.”

Now, ones that do apply:

A1. She’s repeatedly been shown to disregard the “laws” and social norms of the show, by cheating through giving Microphone direct help in multiple challenges, and by taking over the challenge from MePhone 4 in Truth or Flare. + holding MePad as a “hostage” (we’re going by intent matters here, and she intended to use him as a hostage to seize control over the challenge.)

A2. Throughout both of her seasons she has been shown to lie to and con others for her own benefit, in season one by acting idiotic & befriending people to further her chances of winning the million, and in season two by her early treatment of Microphone, as an object that she can position to reach her own goals.

A4. She has been repeatedly irritable and aggressive, especially when speaking to or about people like knife, and providing resources for Microphone to cause direct physical harm towards others (even though Microphone didn’t take that resource) (another one that’s less strong, but I’m still putting it in this section)

A5. She’s been shown to disregard other’s safety in hopes of it further benefiting her, as seen by (again), directing Microphone to attack Balloon, risking extreme damage to him.

A7. Her indifference towards mistreating contestants is shown throughout the show, as well as her rationalization of stealing a taser from Test tube

D. Taco does not display the Manic/Hypomanic and depressive episodes of Bipolar Disorder, and does not seem to experience delusions, hallucinations, or disorganized speech, which at least one of is required for a diagnosis of Schizophrenia.

So, thank you for listening to the sleep deprived ramblings of a Taco kinnie with a special interest in psychological disorders Ɛ:<

I shall be getting sleep since it’s 5 am and I have school tomorrow.

Hello there, fellow Taco kinnie!!!^^ Welcome, and thank you for sending in an ask!!!! :] Thank you for sending in the diagnostic criteria and reasoning as well since, as you mentioned, just taking villains/antagonists and saying they have [insert stigmatized psychological disorder here] is very bad!!!!! I would like to add a little disclaimer that I myself do not have a special interest in psychological disorders, so if I say anything incorrect or offensive please let me know so I can fix or delete it! :)

This is a pretty interesting way to view her character, and I can see why you might think this way. With the contestant's ages, I tend to just assume they were made to be "old enough" to compete in a reality show, though there are a few contestants like Goo that make me think that might not be the case for all of them.

But yeah, your reasoning seems nice and sound to me! It would be very interesting if they were to go this direction in the actual show, since Taco's finally started her redemption arc!!!! I'd be really interesting in seeing how it would fit into her wanting to change and make more of an effort to be conscious of others' feelings and how her actions can impact other people.

I hope you get a good sleep and have a good day at school!!! <3 Thank YOU for your submission!!!! X)

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

oohuh freelancer we're really in it now,,,,, the shift from "don't ever do this to yourself again" to "don't ever do this to me again" AIUGGH. it hurts. cuz obviously the accident wasn't their fault but somehow they keep getting into these dangerous situations with such a horrible aftermath, for gavin to have to deal with that emotional turmoil, PLUS take care of them when they get discharged PLUS taking care of caelum PLUS dealing with his own life, like oh my god this poor man. it reminds me of that james audio where he tells his spouse he's leaving the department after this one job, and when they allow him in their head you hear him say "please don't leave" AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA bc as freelancer what can you do in that situation?? like you can't even make a promise about it. auu I'm stressed, but seeing the crew (almost) all together is so nice, despite the circumstances

SWEETHEART I am so not ready for how this unfolds. I really like the idea that david has a terrible poker face especially when it comes to people in his close circle. I like to think that he thinks he's a good liar but most people wouldn't confront him bc he's scary LOL. unfortunately I agree with milo, I would rather cops act as collateral damage than them. DANA. GET OUT. PLEASE 😭😭. (also,, tank? I think we're due for a few storytimes,,,,,) AAAUUGH IM STRESS3D PLEASE THEYRE GONNA CRASH RHE FUCK OUT ARE YOU KIDDING,,,, and rhey way they all tried to block them from seeing,, they're gonna notice,,,,, they're gonna know you kept it from them,,,,,,,,, ohh my god

I feel like some of the things I said about gavin can be applied to lovely, they're balancing life, work, and a partner who nobody knows if he's going to wake up AND be okay. maybe they can talk about it together find comfort in eachother.

the fact that you're repeating that he's breathing on his own and that he has brain activity is scaring me �� UGHH THE CLIFFHANGERS IM SO EXCITED BUT SO SCARED

- 🦀

Crab Anon!!! We truly are In It!!! Bro so I wrote "Don't ever do this to me again." as the first line and had Gavin repeat it in my first draft... and then I thought... I could make this hurt more. You're totally right!! So Gavin's selfishness in these two lines is actually based off of an exact thought I've had before! My fiance was in a very bad car accident a few years ago (he's fine) and I, at one point, had the ridiculous thought "How could he do this to me?" Which made no sense because he didn't cause the accident and I wasn't in the car. It just absolutely nuked my day and made me think very hard about the fact that I could lose him very easily. Anyway, I think it's a very human thought to have and Gavin deserves the space to vocalize it.

Oh DAMN crew my beloved sweet babies. I need to write about them more. I love them.

This situation keeps getting messier and messier!! David HAS to have a bad poker face, dude, he's the the favored son, the Christ to Darlin's Lucifer, both children of the Father, but one perfect and the other so terrible he had to be cast out. Religious allegories aside, David is the moral core of the pack, and he is, by association, moral. It's important to me that he doesn't like or cheat or steal. Same bro, Sweetheart just HATES working with cops and they're VALID!!! Oh Dana, acting in a way I don't think any actual medical professional would. She's just a plot vessel, she only exists to expose the lie surrounding Sweetheart's wound. Go easy on her. Yeah things are getting tense!! We will see Darlin's reaction next chapter!!!

Lovely is carrying an insane amount of weight, and they're failing, in this moment, to do it gracefully. Who could blame them? There's a lot Lovely and Morgan and WE don't know. Well... I know. And you shall soon!! Stick with me friend, lots to be revealed next chapter!!

[fuckentoastybitch]

TOXIC_RAP.mp3

All the bros have had a go on this flow

So I thought, no, it's my turn

I'm gonna give someone a chance to strike a pose

On this beat like Jojo's

God only knows when this beat feels right

Oh, but it still goes hype when played at night

And now I could cut the tension with a knife

Bottle of absinthe on the shelf

Take a sip. Or twelve

Slip into alcoholic dove and fill the slick and shit

Let's drink till our blood levels turn toxic

Bust out the Bacardi and rum

Drink shots to the sound of a starting gun

Slam drinks back a little hardy and run

What bar should we start at for fun?

So here we are, back again

Will this guy put down his pen?

I have a phone. It's terminology

2023, we have the technology with the new LP

Us boys are all running free

Who the fuck are we meant to be?

A man who's on a legacy?

So I'll make this easy

Nice and speedy

No drinks here with antifreeze

No drinks to sneeze at

Only squeeze in my glass, please

Till I feel queasy

Shot, shot, shot, shot

Cans and bottles, that's your lot

Drink till you lost the plot. Brain rot

Drink till the fives out of ten look hot

Give her the sex, don't call me a miser

She drinks apple cider, came inside her (note: FUCKING WILD)

Back in the room making noise

For gangs of people who enjoys

Acting like tough men, one of the boys

Whilst packing heat at the treat like toys

Arrive on the scene with my team

Looking mean

stacks of green

Feeling preen

We careen to the bar

Smooth like a dream

Dressed up smarter, cash pro rata

Back to the tinnies, crack her lager

Make some bread, not stored in a larder

Spend on brands, devil wears Prada

Committing sins, corporate greed

Take lunch money, mouse to feed

Pop a lock, finally freed

Fuck the lager, grab the mead

Downing honey, busy bees

Send that bottle, what a breeze

Twenty percent proof I'm on my knees

I think I'll try another bottle of that, please

So give me the vodka, that's not what I meant

But a label says that it's forty percent

Would've drank that until the same gents

Started kissing threes whilst pitching a tent

So moving on

Brandy next

Had two shots for the flex

Already looking round for the next

Throw that money, bounce some checks

Cards maxed out, I'm resigned

So let's see what other drinks can I find

Hey there, babe, if you're inclined

Buy me a drink if you don't mind

Rap to the beat on the edge

You see I'm making a splash like Latino heat

So lie, cheat, steal, for real

Grabbing snacks for the main meal

Hidden agenda, big reveal

Cost quite dear and I don't mean veal

Take my chances on my own

Life switched on, not monochrome

We'll take one more for monotone

One last drink before crawling home

Sorry if this topic's over the line

But I like to sit down and write some time

Take some notes

Filling some blanket back with a nice little hobby of mine

After party, rinse and repeat

Wobble around as I find my feet

Party spills onto the street

Now where the hell did I leave my seat?

[Interlude]

Search continues

Bottles fizz

It's around here somewhere

Oh there it is!

Back into it while the beat still goes

Why is it silent?

God only knows!

This song keeps you on your toes

I (should?) see the rapping to the pros

I'm going to woo with flair.

Rick, get me in there

DJ Eric, Eric, death stare

Never mind I don't care

Glare at the back of my head

Wishing the beat was dead

I'm going to invite another guy

Instead of the shit Brit with wit

Looking round for street cred

So hello. Hi.

I'm the one whose lexicon is next to none

Because I'm sitting in a quiet corner

Bouncing off the walls like Yak and Warner

From episode one on TV screens

Across the West and scream dad jokes loud from the chest

The only one in the smoking section

Using a party blow that he kept inside his vest

Objectives announced the fleece

Will this nonsense ever cease?

Feeling relief on the brand new release

Making a move so I'm off now, peace

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 4

(No gif today since I can't find one that fits)

Synopsis: Reader has a small mental breakdown over her developing feelings for the Doctor.

A/n: yall are the realest bitches I ever met for enjoying this. I love you. Also, I'm going to keep some things mysterious for now. But hey, I got a vague plot and I pound out these to keep the scaries away.

Stupid, stupid and foolish! Pig-headed! Dumb! Childish! Total Moron! You chastised yourself as you went into the women’s restroom and locked yourself in a stall.

Where did you get off developing feelings for a professor? Where did you get off by allowing yourself to get yourself to even begin that? Especially this fucking fast? You knew how men were! You knew that even the good ones weren’t ‘good’ in an empirical sense!

They lie, they cheat. They steal. They manipulate. They go on their phones and take hundreds from “Timmy’s uni fund” and transfer it to their private bank account (often that their poor, downtrodden wives didn’t see or have much access to!) to get their dicks fucking wet. They refuse to shower and they bullshit their way into places they really shouldn’t be.

But him? His smile? His poetry? The way he adored his wife even from a few sentences. Like every cell of his body belonged to this dead woman? The deep Scottish brogue? The way he was tender and cared for every single student? Including your dumb ass? The arch of his nose…and his hands?

It got inside you so quickly.

You continue to internally scold yourself, breaking down into tears.

It borderlined on cliché. Hot for teacher. Daddy issues. One man made you feel special so you got giddy and went and got yourself a crush. You truly were exhibiting what people called “Fatherless Behavior”!

You sobbed deeper into your arms, bringing your legs against your chest. Trying to keep balanced on the toilet, you gently banged your head on the wall beside you a few times. You had to meet with the accommodations people in about forty-five minutes. You had to pull yourself together. Even if it would demonstrate a point. You still had to retain some of your dignity.

Plus, you thought quite pathetically, what if he was out roaming and saw you like this?

You banged your head on the wall about it some more.

You let yourself cry for a few more minutes. Just to exorcize whatever was in your system. You weren’t going to allow yourself to cry over a man, even if that was exactly what you were up to!

After that little emotional outburst was over, you scraped yourself off the toilet and back into the general restroom area. You had to put yourself back together.

Splashing your face off with cool water in the wash basin, you noticed that your skin was inflamed and you had some pimples on your forehead.

“Oh, that’s attractive.” You muttered and started on trying to find the willpower to not pick at them. That’d make it worse. And would affect everything. No amount of makeup covers a sucking wound in a visible area.

You didn’t have much on you except for a medicated chap stick and some concealer, so you made do.

You really regretted listening to him and not smoking now…

Deep breaths, you told yourself. Just keep breathing. Healthy stuff. Plenty of people had told you before. 1, 2 3. Hold, longer 1, 2 3 release. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It worked a bit.

You didn’t work tonight, or tomorrow night. You could afford a bit of a drink. Tonight. Tomorrow would be too late and you’d have dry skin for Thursday night.

That’s what you needed. A night of shit TV, skincare and most of a large bottle of coconut rum drowned in a can of Coke Zero.

Would help remove the feelings coiled in your chest a lot.

Reset the system.

Remove ‘it’, whatever ‘it’ truly was…

You steadied yourself and went to the Disabilities Office and sat in the waiting room after signing in for your appointment.

You pulled out your phone and started flipping through a familiar social media site. The memes perked you up and put a smile on your face. Helped you keep composure. You even replied to a few mutual’s messages and congratulated the one on their new job.

Your meeting came and went. Apparently you could go to student-lead tutoring from people who already took the classes. You got signed up and thanked the councilor, taking the emails for the students to message them and get more in-depth about the struggles you were having

You’d do it later, once you got home…

Speaking of which, you stopped at the store and got a can of Coke and a bottle of rum before trudging inside of it.

You started studying and sending out the emails to your new tutors. Truly a task from hell.

You stopped yourself from having thoughts of another type of tutoring.

The drink you mixed was strong. Perhaps too strong. The show you put on in the background was harshing the vibes so you closed the tab it was on. You checked the site for your place of work. You scoffed at your photos and wondered how little you could pay to get a professional update to them.

Back to school work. Back to projects. You couldn’t afford to let yourself have a stray thought.

The liquor highlighted the slight soft pain you had on the side of your head from the pounding you gave it. You touched it gingerly and gave up.

You weighed your options, you could drop the class and take the failing marks. Or you could be brave and normal. And take the class, just skate by. Hardly ever speak. Take the lowest grade and still fail.

It was a matter of what left you with the most amount of dignity, but also didn’t waste your money or time.

Or heart ache.

Could you really spite yourself like that?

Or just cut off contact for good.

What would not break your heart nor your bank nor your ethics? Was there any option that left all intact and unscarred? Let alone your precious, stupid dignity?

You had too much on your plate as is, now this stupid crush?

And disposing of it?

You drained the rest of your glass and did the bare minimum in the shower. Mainly just let the hot water spill over your head while you stared at the wall.

You put even less effort in on your skin care and teeth brushing.

Just climbed in bed and let sleep find your semi-drunk body and fully-fucked up and over brain.

Your alarm shot you out of bed, leaving your heart racing and your chest heaving. You just didn’t go to get up, let alone do anything. You sent in a mass email from your phone saying that you were sick. You’d let yourself go to work tomorrow night. But you didn’t want to set foot on that campus until you had a better, more stable grip on yourself.

You had a hangover and a sore throat anyways, so it wasn’t a total lie.

Responsibilities be dammed. You chose to rot in bed and doomscroll on social media. It was your mental breakdown and you chose to make it worse. It was your right! And entirely your fault!

You kept yourself in that ball of blankets far too long. Going in and out of consciousness, phone in hand.

Before you knew it, it was Thursday. Late afternoon. You sighed and got up.

You were quite dehydrated and famished. Hardly leaving the bed and relying on the cups that littered the side of your table for your main sources of water for well over twenty-four hours had left you weak and you fainted upon leaving the coil of your bedding.

When you came to, you thanked your lucky stars and any God that may have been paying a half-lick of attention to you in that moment.

You kept it simple and reheated some Chinese takeaway you had in your fridge. It was edible. That’s all you could ask for at the moment. Edible and got you through the waking world…

You went into your bathroom and started not only the long ritual you did to prepare yourself for work, but also repair work for the past two days of neglect. It was hard work. Your face was inflamed, your left side had creases in the skin from the corners of your blankets bunched up.

You stretched out and did a bit of a warm up exercise.

After all of that malarkey, you started chugging a bunch of cold water. Then you started to get your work bag together.

This, this, that, that other thing there, you kept mentally chiding yourself. You were out of materials, hopefully one of your coworkers would be able to lend you some. Just enough to get you by until Friday when the shops would be open. You were pulling a double shift anyways, so what was a sneak out and in. Maybe you’d convince the owner/manager to let you work when you’re usually not on during Friday. Whatever little cash you would make would certainly be welcome, and certainly wouldn’t hurt. You could sleep between appointments or walk-ins!

Maybe you would break your promise to Professor Smith and get yourself a pack of cigarettes and to hell with the entire engagement!

You stretched again and got into street clothes.

You repeated to yourself that you had to keep your mind on money and money on your mind. That it came naturally. Whatever all those dorky manifestations you occasionally saw said. Anything. Just to keep your spirits up and get your mind off other subjects.

Money on your mind was a whole lot healthier than a certain silver-haired professor being in there. And his class you were skipping today…

Who knows, maybe something bad would happen to you and you would be sworn off men in any way except the bare minimum to survive this world for good! You thought catastrophically.

You slid on your street shoes and your coat, slung your work bag over your shoulder and made your way out your door.

What was that one song? And how did it go?

‘So for once in my life

Let me get what I want

Lord knows, it would be the first time…”

Yeah, like that.

[icanseethefuture333]

How do we manifest improved social life, like being popular in your town or having large groups of friends

"16 missed calls, sorry I was busy but I missed ya 💕"

I know social media and a social life is not the same but I noticed over the past year as I worked on my shadow work and becoming more accepting of myself. People have started giving me more attention on this blog. So therefore, just being yourself really and knowing that you have traits that are lovable is what will make people attracted to you. You can still be a flawed person and be considered likeable.

Also you have to understand having friends and being popular are two different things. Popularity to me is mostly just about receiving attention and it's very superficial, so people would like you at a surface level, not on a deep level. So if that's what you wish then that's fine, but if you want to form connections with people that are healthy and substantial, then you need to think about what you want to get out of your platonic relationships.

"Tryna get with you and yo friends"

I always say birds of a feather flock together. I can be selective about what people I associate myself with because if their behavior is pretty nasty and negative, I don't particularly want to surround myself around that energy. So you need to think about qualities would you want your friends to have? What unhealthy patterns do you keep repeating in your past friendships? Why are you alone currently? Have you've been a good friend as well? What do you truly desire from your social life? Once you written these things down, you can start having a clear idea of how you can attract that desire into your life

Here are some some positive list of traits or things a friendships should have:

Good communication. Misunderstandings and differences in personality can happen, but it is important to be able to mend those differences. If for example, your friend says "hey you like to go out for drinks but I don't like alcohol, could we perhaps do something else?" You'd could do something that makes you both comfortable. Or if a friend were to hurt your feelings, you should be able to talk about that and they can apologize.

Your friend makes sure you're okay in a moment of crisis.

They respect your boundaries when you say "no", don't wish to go out, or want to leave.

You equally both can depend on each other when it's necessary.

"I got your back, you got mine". This is a crucial one and it could apply to anything. For example, it's "girl code" to go to the bathroom together. Most women go to the bathroom together because that is where most abductions and assaults happen. So in order to protect each other they go together. Or even to discuss planning on leaving if someone makes you both uncomfortable.

Some negative traits or things a friendship can have:

Your friend is a closet hater. I notice this is something that's subtle and not as obvious, you have to catch it on time. It's more so like passive aggression and you'd have to be able to get the fake expression and tone of sarcasm. "Oh my god yeah, you sure do love to eat 😃😊🙄" is one way someone could take jabs at you. Don't gaslight yourself when it happens. If you noticed there was a twinge of jealousy or pettiness in their comment. Address it when you feel calm and express how that wasn't okay. If they dismiss it and treat you like you're being dramatic, that person is not being a good friend.

You and your friend behave like "mean girls". Meaning this person just brings out the worse in you and doesn't elevate you as a person. You just act like bitter bitches together.

They steal, lie, cheat, commit crimes, etc. I don't even know how people are friends with people who have no sense of morals just because they did them a favor growing up. It's absurd. You owe nothing to that person and even if that person did something nice for you doesn't mean you have to stay friends.

They're a freeloader or stingy with their money. This is self explanatory. I don't like people who use their friends for money or gifts, its very tacky. Especially if they don't ever do it in return. Unless that person helps you in other ways such as helping you clean your house or helped you get a job. I don't think it's appropriate for them to constantly take money from you. It's just giving sugar daddy/mommy at that point.

Another tip is that if you are someone with a disability (autism for example) you can ask your friends to use tone indicators when texting or if you have trouble with understanding social cues, you can ask them politely what do they mean by that or have a signal you can both use when you are feeling a certain emotion (thumbs down = sad, thumbs up = happy, clenched fist = angry, etc). It will be easier to understand what they are trying to express.

Doing research on body language can also help understand a pattern in people's behavior and who has true intentions or not.

How to use self concept to your advantage.

Let's check your thoughts and see why it could be potentially blocking you from making friends. If you think things like "oh no one likes me", "I'm so weird", or "that person is so cool, they would never hang out with me". Stop it!!! Don't ever in your life put people on a pedestal! Don't even put yourself on the pedestal, that concept is so stupid to me, it just creates a big ego. See this person as your equal. You see qualities in them that you like because they are reflecting a part of your soul that is beautiful as well. You are drawn to one another for a reason. Have the mindset that you attract positive and uplifting friendships easily because you have the same energy as well.

Now if you're a shy person, I know it can be hard to approach people, or feeling comfortable in crowds. You can just always start small. If you have a class with someone that you like or have similar interests with. You can sit next to them and ask them about their day. Eventually things will feel naturally because you are creating a routine with this person and there is a flow going on. Just be patient and understand it takes a while for some people to come around. People can have trouble trusting and need to if you're being genuine with them. So try not to force it if they aren't as warm at first. They're still trying to get to know you and you should do that as well.

Let's use Hello Kitty for example. She is known for being friends with many and loved and adored by all! She is a friendly person and in most shows that she's in, her ability to connect with people is quite effortless. Hello Kitty just be's herself! That's what makes her so special along with her ability to show love through her actions, not just words.

Now think about the term "social life". It's a part of your life where you're socializing, meaning you're letting people take away some or your valuable time. What do you wish to do with your social life? Now there's nothing with partying and it can be fun but there's so much more than going to the club, getting drunk, etc. You can make a vision board of your dream life, the kind of people you wish to meet, and what activities you wish to do with them.

Here a list of hobbies you can do with friends that aren't just about partying or clubbing:

Go to an art museum

Visit a botanical garden

Play tennis together

Take a pilates class

Go to the gym

Have a sleepover

Take a trip to the beach

Start a book club

Go out on a picnic

I hoped this helped, anon. Now go out there and make some friends! 👭

[rosebloodcat]

Don Copal- Once A Coward

It wasn't his fault. And maybe if he said it enough times, he could make himself believe it. (Don had always been a coward.)

AN: Hey all, this story is from a Grim Fandango AU idea I had back in 2020 (ish) and never really posted. But I've stumbled upon this ficlet again and figured, may as well post the thing. If people wanna know more, go ahead and ask! (I'll add some more notes at the end.)

It wasn’t his fault. That was the mantra Don Copal had been repeating to himself for… Too long now.

(He’d been saying more after Hector had… had sprouted…)

He supposed he should've realized Calavera would start to catch on that something wasn’t right about how the jobs were getting shuffled around. That something was crooked in the DoD, and possibly try to do something about it.

He’d always been a sharp one, for all his antics.

(Manny had been at the DoD longer than Domino. Longer than Don. Longer than a lot of them. They should have realized that keeping him there would have been an obvious mark that something was wrong.)

But it wasn’t Don’s fault.

He couldn’t have predicted that Manuel would do something like that. His stealing a client from Domino hadn’t been predicted.

It couldn’t have been expected!

(Maybe he should have expected it. Manny was always too sharp, too skilled for his own good. He always had been. Don had needed to do a lot of cheating to get ahead of him in this job. Because Manny had always been that good.)

Hector had wanted to get rid of the problem. Of someone who’d robbed him of another ticket. Of getting more power.

Don knew it. Domino knew it. They all knew it.

The problem had been who would take the brunt of it.

Domino openly blamed Manny for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, saying he’d caused more trouble than he was worth.

(Like Don, he hadn't wanted to be in Hector's sights. He didn’t want to be the one taking the fall.)

Don knew it wasn’t his fault, what had happened that day, and said as much.

Manny had never done that before, none of them could have considered it. He was the issue, not any of them.

(It wasn’t his fault. It was never his fault.)

He’d realized they’d made a mistake the moment the flowers had appeared, that they weren't right. They weren't normal, even for sproutella. Even for the (so very few) flowers that could be found in the land of the dead.

And then the chill of something familiar-but-not washing over them all before the flowers, and Manuel’s remains, blew away in a gust of unnatural wind. Scattering like dust before them, leaving nothing behind.

It had felt like a sign of some kind.

He didn’t have the poetic skills to say what that sign was.

Maybe it was a sign of their foolishness. Maybe it was for their arrogance. Maybe it meant that things were going to change, whether they liked it or not. Maybe it was some combination of all three.

But it wasn’t his fault.

None of them could have known what would happen. Manny had never said or done anything that could have told them that he was any different from the rest of them. Not even a hint of something being weirder than anyone would have thought about a guy who’d just… Been another reaper. As far as any of them had known, he was just another schmuck who had a debt to pay off to the powers that be. Just like the rest of them.

How could they know something they were never told?

(They couldn’t have. That was true, it couldn’t have been his fault. It couldn’t have.)

But he knew Hector wouldn’t let it lie. He wouldn’t let Manny’s last act against him go unchallenged, no matter who or what else might also have been entangled in it. It was bad for his business.

And his business was more important than anything else. (Not even another soul.)

So Don had shut his mouth and let Hector do as he pleased.

Let him take over the work for a short time. Let Domino rise above him and go about unhindered and take over completely.

He bowed his head, kept silent, and forced himself to keep working, no matter how angry he felt about it.

(It wasn’t his fault. If he said it enough times, he would finally convince the voice in his head that it was true.)

When he’d laid eyes on that living soul wandering in the city, trying so hard to not be noticed, so hard to not be seen, he knew.

He knew.

He knew exactly who that soul was, no matter how insane it seemed. Souls weren’t supposed to have that fast of a turnover, but he knew.

That was HIM. He was back. (No matter how crazy it sounded.)

It was a young face, much younger than he’d ever know him. (But older than he would have thought.) But he still recognized it. Even with the layers of skin and life on top of the skull he knew was there.

Don was absolutely sure that that was Calavera, ducking into the shadow of an alley and trying to survey the street without anyone taking notice of him.

He could have said something. He could have pretended to help him, get himself back into Hector’s good books by delivering the teen to him. Win back the boss’s good favor by handing the man what he was after.

(But that would have meant meeting Manny again, whomever he was now. Of seeing someone he’d once offered as his scapegoat to escape Hector’s fury. Of knowing he was leading him to his death again. That he would be killing someone he knew again. Because he’d known Manny. He hadn’t been a stranger that he only knew on a screen.)

Instead, he ignored him.

Don ignored the still-living boy creeping through the streets and side allies and continued with his day. Dutifully pretending that he’d seen nothing and knew nothing. That he was blissfully unaware of any plan Hector was enacting to undo whatever Manny had done in his second death to defy him. About whatever Manny had done to protect the saints in those hair-thin seconds between when he’d seen Hector and when his bones had been pumped with sproutella.

Or whatever vengeance the Boss was trying to unleash on the teenager because of it.

It had nothing to do with him.

(He’d always been like this. Always running from his choices. Always hiding from his actions. Always ready to lay the blame on someone else for his mistakes. He’d never been able to face the consequences of his decisions.)

(And his conscience would always remind him of that, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it or how far he tried to run from it. For as loud and angry as he pretended to be, he was a coward.)

(He had always been a coward.)

AN: Okay, and that's a wrap on this ficlet! This AU doesn't have a proper name, but I think folks can gather up some of the basic details from this story just based on what's in it.

Long story short, the idea was that Manny got sprouted at the start for interfering with Hector's business, but there were some unexpected consequences to that. Namely that Manny wasn't the 100% human soul everyone thought he was, and when he was sprouted, something kicked in to stop/permanently mess with the people who did it. And Hector, in a mix of spite and determination, decided to hunt down Manny's reincarnation to FIX that problem. (As second deaths result in the souls being sent back to the 7th/Living World.)

I also wanted to get a little introspective on a character we'd only known for a short while before he got offed.

[psiroller]

music meme

tagged by @everycaptain

rules: shuffle your 'on repeat' playlist and post the first 10 songs, then tag 10 friends to do the same i aint doin all that

Gangsta's Paradise - Coolio, L.V.

Go Go Ghost Ship (ゴーゴー幽霊船) - Kenshi Yonezu

Santeria - Sublime

Come and Get Your Love - Redbone

My Boy - Twin Fantasy - Car Seat Headrest

My Kink Is Karma - Chappell Roan

Float On - Modest Mouse

From the Start - Good Kid (cover of Laufey)

Not Like Us - Kendrick Lamar

Lie, Cheat, Steal - Run The Jewels

[kingofthe-egirls]

FOX TALES: LUFFY comfort + angst

fox tales

"I Am Not the Sun" by Maude Latour

***

this is my place of worship,

coming here with you at night

i am not the sun

i am not the sun

i am not the sun

(oh my god, oh my god)

(you're everything i ever wanted)

***

Luffy and you are tumbled together in bed, messy sheets and blankets wrapped around your tangled limbs. The ship rocks in harbor waves, gently lulling you both to sleep. Luffy murmurs, and you snuggle closer to him. One hand is thrown around his waist, while your head rests on his rubber chest. He's breathing heavy. You lift your head, "What's up?"

Surprised, you see tears running down his face. "A-am I–," he starts, then sniffles as he bites his lip, "Am I a good captain?"

He meets your gaze with big, gray eyes and your stomach drops. "Of course," you say, and throw your arms around his neck. You bury his face in your chest, and he sniffles wetly into your flesh. You tighten your grip around him. "You're an amazing captain, Luffy," you burrow your nose into his hair, and sniff. He smells like cinnamon, and sweat. You kiss the top of his head. "You notice everything about your crew," you say, and he tightens his arms around you, "Your crew is always in the forefront of your mind, no matter what anyone else thinks. You're so smart, Luffy. You're so affectionate, too. Everyone knows you love them."

"R-really?" he sniffs, and smiles up at you. Saltwater streaks down his face, and you bend to plant messy kisses on both his cheeks. 

"Yes," you say, making sure to meet his gaze. Your foreheads press together. "No one else cares as much as you do. The decisions you make, the hard calls you have to make, you're always choosing the best path for us. You're messy, and an animal," you giggle, "But that's what we love about you." You place a hand on his cheek, wiping away the wetness with the pad of your thumb. His scar folds under your touch. "That's what I love about you, Luffy." You swallow, heat blooming in your chest, "I love you, Luffy. You're kind, and smart, and so funny," you giggle, and he does too. He hides his face in your chest again, and you hold him tight.

"Th-thanks, Kit," he says, muffled against your chest.  "I'm just–," he starts, and stops. You pet his hair, softly. Crow feathers, you think.

His hands tighten in your tank top. "I'm afraid of being alone," he sniffles, and his chest heaves with sobs. You hold him tighter. Nothing in the world would separate you, now.

"You'll never be alone again," you say, repeating what he had said to you, all those months ago when he convinced you to join his ship. You would never regret that decision for as long as you live. You promised him.

"No matter what," you hold him even tighter against you, wrapping your legs around him in bed. You wanted to plant your love inside him like a seed, wanted to watch it blossom and grow. Wanted to see sunflowers sprout out of his hair. You bury your nose in his hair, and inhale. "I'll make sure you never have to be alone again," you say into his scalp, "I promise."

"Ace promised too," he mutters, bitter, and you let him heave heavy, ugly sobs into your chest. You didn't know your boyfriend and captain had lost so much so early, had had to grieve so young. Had learned that the adults in his life hated him, no matter what, that he hadn't been wanted anywhere. You hadn't grown up as a normal human, had sprung into earth as a messy teenager with a half-spirit body and feral fox instincts. Had had to steal and lie and cheat your way through survival, until he came into your life. Tumbling through the portal world head over heels and screaming. Just like you.

"I love you, Luffy," you say, tightening your arms around him even more. You wanted to press him into your body like wax, wanted the imprint of his fossil to be etched into your bones. "I'm gonna die someday. I'm sorry," you say, "I'm sorry if I die before you do–,"

"No," he shakes his head against your chest, "No, don't say that–,"

"It's the truth," you huff, "And I'm fucking terrified of dying. I've never had to do it before."

He huffs out a laugh, and so do you. The ship rocks, and lantern light flickers around the room. You flick your tails around him, rustling soft like feathers as you use them like a blanket. Like snow leopards, Chopper had told you. You were an arctic fox, after all.

"But I'll come back to fucking haunt you," You say, gently letting go of your captain's head so you can sit up. You push yourself back against the headboard. Luffy slowly untangles himself from your limbs, too, and sits up with you. His hair is messy, more like twigs and bracken, now, and he sniffs as he wipes his eyes. His cheeks are puffy, but he's smiling again.

"Yeah?" He asks, leaning sideways against the headboard. The scar on his chest glows scarlet under the lamplight. You reach out to touch it, and you feel his chest flutter under your fingertips.

"Yeah," you say, "I promise."

He leans forward, and kisses you.

"You better," he grins, and presses his lips to yours, hard. He tastes like saltwater. Your hands flutter around his chest as he deepens the kiss. His hands are on your face, rough and warm and gentle. He always minds his strength, around you.

Unless it suits him, of course.

Like now, when he wraps one arm around your waist, and makes quick work of tumbling you both back into bed, this time with you under him, his knee sliding between your legs. Your breath hitches in your chest, and he grins.

"Ready for me?" He asks, devilishly, and you nod. 

Always.

***

[princessfaerygia]

suddenly my bf is like who's such and such they are trying to add me. it's some "slutty" teenager wearing crop tops tee hee.

earlier I said "she's prettier than me" (i didn't mean it lol self love here) and his response:

"it's not that hard to do" (be prettier than me he meant)

i was really really excited like overjoyed because i began cleaning apartment alone with his ex. we really got along and i thought she might become a good friend.

well come to find out looked on his facebook while he sleeping and it said that SHE ("slutty" teen) accepted HIS request.

so another lie. and he made the excuse that his tablet was too slow to deny her request and his "accepting" her "friend request" was an accident.

well he goes dramatic gia the leo lion starting buncha drama. i requested her too and sent her messages showing my bruisedish scratchedish face from him. told her he pinned me down multiple times and was physically violent against women. i told her he bit my cheek twice and my nose. (he truly is violent towards woman) but i forgot to mention that he restricted my breathing a few times.

yesterday sometime in the late afternoon he said he wanted to punch me and that i am an embarrassment to all women who get beaten because what he did wasn't "that bad"

he also said yesterday (he loves bows and arrows and makes them *swoon*) that he wanted to shoot an arrow through my head. which would most likely kill me. he sings eminem women beating songs and acts all goofy it's so cute and im so enamored.

moms picking me up this morning got one hour and fifteen mins til she comes.

i know it's my pride that's doing this, ending this, but isn't it also self respect and obedience to God? i don't want to be a druggie. or be with a man who lies, cheats, and steals.

i am simply afraid of time and it's envelopment of me. he fills my head and heart and soul with love. now there may be chaos and emptiness, a little love here and there from family, but basically just bread crumbs and a lot of love coming from my mother to me at times.

i hate my hometown. how do i engage in community? there's the gym but i feel terribly alienated as i walk past all the cars and mcdonalds and what have you. it's a long azz walk too. then, this gym is more modern and young kinda. i feel more at home with elderly people or impoverished people.

i have no car so i can't volunteer anywhere. i will feel alienated and isolated and my mind might start screaming at me again. around my boyfriend it is quiet.

i feel like throughout my life ive been a psychologically heavy weight champion in my mind. so much chaos, randomized, or highly disturbing thoughts repeated in my mind. if it comes stay calm you're dealing with a dom. (me, an alpha woman!) if it comes, let it. let it wash over you intoxicate you worry you make you wonder make you scared sad concerned, silly like wtf am i thinking? just my dear, let it all wash over you and run through you like ripples and waves of healing water.

im going to be very sad. i feel a deep soul connection to my boyfriend but obviously he isn't ready for it wanting me. i wish I could cuddle him he asked me to just a bit a go and I said no you're a liar and a cheat.

[gatekeeper-watchman]

Daily Devotionals for November 23, 2024 

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 28:23-24 (KJV): 23 He that rebuketh a man afterwards shall find more favour than he that flattereth with the tongue. 24 Whoso robbeth his father or his mother, and saith, It is no transgression; the same is the companion of a destroyer. Proverbs 28:23-24 (AMP): 23 He who rebukes a man shall afterward find more favor than he who flatters with the tongue. 24 Whoever robs his father or his mother and says, This is no sin -- he is in the same class as (an open, lawless robber and) a destroyer.

Thought for the Day

Verse 23 - If the body of Christ is to mature, we must conform to Jesus, who is the truth. "That we henceforth be no more children...But speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ..." (Ephesians 4:14-15). Giving an honest rebuke is part of speaking the truth in love. This is often difficult to do, since we risk the anger and rejection of the person rebuked. However, we will eventually be appreciated more than a flatterer. A true friend will appreciate our honesty, for it shows genuine concern. Lying flattery leads someone to continue in error. Many portions of Scripture admonish us not to lie to each other, such as Colossians 3:9-10.

A news organization recently did a survey here in America and asked several questions to determine the percentage of people who were dishonest about things. Some of the questions were: "Do you cheat the IRS? "Do you compliment people when you do not mean it? "Do you tell your spouse to tell callers you are not at home? "Do you tell 'little white lies' if it will keep you out of trouble? "Do you tell creditors that the check is in the mail when you have not yet mailed it? "Do you exaggerate when repeating things you have heard?" It was determined that 90% of Americans surveyed are not truthful under certain circumstances.

Lying began with Satan whom Jesus revealed as the father of lies (John 8:43-44,47). We can understand a high percentage of liars in corrupt society, but it is alarming that many Christians are also dishonest. God always keeps His word. He is faithful to every promise recorded in the Bible. That is why we can trust Him. We are called to be like Him, and must prove ourselves honest and trustworthy in order to represent our Father well. Jesus said that a man's words proceed from his heart (Matthew 15:18-20). If we lie, fib or break our word to others (another form of dishonesty), we need to ask God to cleanse our hearts, and begin studying the Bible so that His Word of truth resides in us.

Verse 24 - Those who steal from their parents are likened to destroyers. Grown children can "steal" from their parents in a number of ways; such as living irresponsibly and relying on their parents to pay their bills. Some parents entrust their businesses or their affairs to their children, only to have the children squander them. Thinking one has the right to steal from their parents in this way and making no effort to repay them, is a terrible evil. To deny this sin makes it even worse. Lying and stealing are evils that we must ask the Lord to deliver us from, if we are to become overcomers.

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Dear heavenly Father, I am thankful that You are faithful and that You always keep Your Word. Lord, do a work in the hearts of all Your children and deliver us from lying. May the words that we speak always be the truth. Lord, help us not to make promises that we are unable to keep. We want our words to be like Your words. You not only never lie, but every promise that You have made in the Word of God You will keep. You are not a man that You should lie. Lord, cleanse our hearts so that we will speak the truth in love instead of ignoring confrontations. I ask this in the name of Jesus. Amen.

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Barbie enter and greeted by Charlie. Barbie wasn't sure about this redemption in hell however Charlie kindness make her atleast hearing it. Barbie who grow up in church believe that Lucifer is evil and what she Heard of lilith is also evil. However she is suprised finding out the devil daughter is naive and kind

Barbie: Charlie i will be honest i'm not exactly sure about this redemption thing? All my life i follow the Ten commandment i don't make my parents upset i don't steal i don't cheat i try to be nice to everyone even to my enemies. I always go to church every Sunday always helpful never complain never waste money never get angry. Did i lie? Sometime yes but i don't want to upset anyone yet here i am in hell

Charlie: This redemption hotel i only have one patron beside that nobody hasn't actually got redeemed. Then the extermination that happen every year

Barbie: Can you repeat that?

Charlie: Extermination?

Barbie: What? Why?

Charlie: Sinner get exterminated every year to handle overpopulation so that's why i try this redemption hotel

Barbie: That is not fair that is not fair THAT IS NOT FAIR THAT IS NOT FAIR THAT IS NOT FAIR. NOT EVERYONE HERE IS INNOCENT SURE BUT WHY THE EXTERMINATION IS NECESSARY WHAT ABOUT SINNER LIKE ME? I DON'T CARE FOR THE SINNER WHO IS IRREDEMABLE BUT WHAT ABOUT THEM WHO CAN STILL GET REDEEM. I'm sorry i yell at you

Charlie: No it's ok

Barbie: You know not everything is Black and white. Some sinner don't have the same privilege as me so they done horrible thing to survive and some might just done it for their own amusement. Not every sinner is irredemable

Charlie: I know so i try even just one sinner

Barbie: Do they think that extermination just gonna make human stop from sinning? No they won't. I don't care about the devil tempting them they just use excuses. The demon force me, God told me to do this

Cool.