#This game has me in a chokehold right now goddamn

[angelofchaos001]

Probably the last Outer Wilds game update for a while? Maybe? IDK spoilers for game and it's DLC

@mellow-mooon @doodlebug091 @sawyer-is-eepy (Noticed I had another Outer Wilds moot, come join us)

For the sake of writing a fanfic, I finally bit the bullet and beat the game again but Prisoner was there this time. I could draw a really goofy thing if I wanted to but here's the transcript of what happened in the ending:

Me, jumping and thrusting desperately, trying to grab Gabbro's flute: I'm great at this.

Doodle: You're great at this.

My brother (who was in the room): You're great at this.

-

Spinning around with the signalscope, looking for signals: Guess we're doing the new guy now.

*Extinguishing the candles*

Oh check it out they're gone.

*Sees the mirror*

That's not morbid at all.

-

Me, looking at the Prisoner: Bitch why are you so far away?? Why are you hanging back there??

Prisoner, talking about how his kind messed up:

Me: Shush and get over here, you're joining us, you deserve it. (I let him play first dw)

Anyway now I have to go rewrite part of my fanfic chapter just to add in a few lines about the DLC and fix my late-night brain messing up pronouns again.

[justporo]

10 CHARACTERS!

rules: pick 10 characters from 10 different fandoms and tag 10 people!

aye, @tripleyeeet thank you for the tag - I'm sorry I take forever to do stuff like this mostly, I'm just a loser with these kinds of things, sorry...

Astarion - not to anyone's surprise, lol. But he has to go first - this character has me in a chokehold and goddamn he changed quite a few things in my life - for one, I started writing again and posting fanfics online and now I'm here!

2. Kaz Brekker - I prefer the book version though. He's such a great character, he's such a snarky genius and such a bastard - I love him. And Six of Crows was also my first read by Leigh Bardugo and now she's one of my favourite authors!

3. Big Boss/Venom Snake - For some still unkown reason I got really into MGS5 when it came out and am still a big fan of the MGS and Kojima to this day (although I haven't even played all the games, lol).

4. Ellie Miller - Last of Us Part 1 I could only watch as Lets Plays but I got into TLOU Part 2 myself and I love the story and Ellie especially although my heart still hurts - and probably always will.

5. Loki - I got into online fandoms because of that fucker. So in a way he paved the way for Astarion and my content today, adhwqfhef.

6. Hannibal Lecter - Gosh dang, he's such a perfect villain. One of my absolute faves. I could write you an 15 page essay on why I think Hannibal is a spectualar show over all - and also Mads Mikkelsen is amazing!

7. D.Va - Back when I was biiiig into Overwatch she was one of my absolute favourites. Girl in a big mecha wrecking ass - sign me up!

8. Jinx - I've loved her from when she was introduced to League. I love her design and how crazy she is and was especially happy she was such a big part in Arcane.

9. Geralt of Rivia - White-haired men just are my thing apparently... I love his grumpy ass and how his heart is ultimately in the right place despite him acting like he's an asshole.

10. Cristina Yang - I'm still not through with watching Grey's Anatomy but Cristina is and always will be my fave from the show!

I'm tagging: @megs-98 @tavdraws @tragedybunny @tatterings @micropoe10 @bearhugsandshrugs @azaani-art @the-littlest-raindrop @smaranshakthi @aurasyn (only if you wanna and also anyone else that wants to join!)

[cariadlovescodwomen]

cariad’s obsession with the female call of duty characters is starting to get unhealthy (it has been for quite a while)

valeria, kate, farah 💞

-

valeria garza might have committed many heinous crimes, but who hasn’t? :). don’t act like you’re innocent. let’s be partners in crime, val, forget about everyone else. (i’m losing it)

(i would do anything for that woman, oh my GOD. i’d let her shoot me)

i just wanna be kate’s wife. that’s all i want out of this life. maybe i have a thing for older women, maybe i have a thing for american women.

(that sounds odd, lmfao, idk what it is. y’know when a character has a non-american accent, and in every fanfic it’s always pointed out? “their deep british accent rung through your ears”? i’m like that with american accents, for some reason?? american accents are deemed the norm, so no one pays attention when a character has a standard northern american accent, but i love them 😭 and southern american accents)

i want farah to teach me how to ride a motorcycle. please, ma’am. i just wanna spend any amount of time with farah, tbh. she’s so beautiful, and smart, and strong, atkajsksksk.

(side note - i feel so weird calling a woman “ma’am” because i call my actual mother “mam” and the pronunciation (the pronunciation i use for “ma’am” anyway) is literally the same)

-

operators you probably don’t care about 💞 (calisto, stiletto, roze, kleo, nova, luna)

-

fuck the royals 🤬, fuck the royals 😏. look, she seems pretentious af, but i love her for it. what was that one voice line? “can i play with you? mhm.” what does that mean, calisto???

(my hearing is shit so if that’s not what she said, don’t tell me :). i’d rather pretend, LOL)

most of the content i see for stiletto is shipping her with könig. she is literally dating me, how dare you disrespect our relationship like that. i could treat a woman better than him, anyway 🙄.

(sorry, könig, you’ve become my punching bag, i promise i don’t actually hate you. i’m just jealous of your fans, that’s all)

rozlin goddamn helms. she was once a shadow, right? no wonder she left that company. i could treat my employees better than graves could. back to actually talking about roze herself, mw19 roze had a chokehold on me, man. she’s so AH. (you figure out what that means)

(fuck you, graves, i may have stated that i liked southern american accents, but this excludes you (and most men, southern accents on women, i should’ve clarified))

kleopatros gavras. that woman. now, where the hell is the hype for her? i feel she’s very smart, and obviously very strong. i love smart women. i love strong women. i love women. doesn’t seem very friendly, but i can work with that. (that sounds weird)

(when it comes to characters that don’t have official heights, i like to headcanon them some, for nearly all of the female operators, they’re tall because i said so, i love tall women)

i think nova’s actress is very pretty. i, too, love flying. it was meant to be, no? please, nova, i’m on my knees. i literally have no words to describe the way i feel about this woman 😶.

(a lot of people don’t like her voice, but i don’t have anything negative to say, really. maybe i’m too blinded by love 🤷‍♀️) (that was embarrassing to say)

luna just seems like a really friendly person. she makes me feel safe?? even though she isn’t real?? the voice line, “alright then, i see you!” did it for me. she’s a soldier, she’s tough, but she’s also so amicable it kills me. idk i just love her, man.

(another smart woman, i fucking love smart women. i just wanna be her friend, lmao)

-

all in all, i’m a raging lesbian, and the women in this game make me feel things :). also, apologising if there are any grammatical or linguistic errors. <3

[adarlingwrites]

Hellbound

Summary:

Unable to shake off the demons, particularly a devil, of her past, Fortune becomes aware that her anguish is bleeding over to her current deal and dalliance with Raphael.

Once and for all, she confronts this with the devil she knows better. After a much needed amendment to their agreement, she seals her fate.

Inspired by the songs A Pearl, and Shame.

Words: 5379

Relationships: Raphael x OC/Raphael x Tav

Date of Original Publication (AO3): January 25, 2023

Tags/Warnings:  Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulative Relationship, Age Difference, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Deal with a Devil, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Relationship(s), Trauma, Moving On (Fortune is traumatized by a former love interest), Angst and Porn, Angst, Smut, Fear Play, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Face-Fucking, Vaginal Fingering, Anal Fingering, Sex, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Rimming, Fluff (if you squint hard enough) Praise Kink, Master/Servant, Exhibitionism, Semi-Public Sex, Aftercare,  Not Beta Read

Author's Notes:

A direct continuation to A Devilish Distraction.

More of Raphael and Fortune because this damn devil has me on a chokehold. I went into a spiral listening to Mitski, and I coped with it by writing this. Welp.

I'm still hoping that we get NPCs as patrons for warlocks in the game, like Auntie Ethel for an archfey patron, or Raphael for a fiend patron. Fortune would be a Pact of the Talisman warlock if that option gets into the game. I know warlocks get pact boons at third level in tabletop D&D, but I took some liberties and had Raphael forge her talisman right after their agreement.

I

Love, hunger, possessions, wealth, influence, knowledge, power, pleasure- there’s always something that everyone is enslaved by, from the simplest of creatures, to the most powerful beings in the multiverse.

To Fortune’s shame, she had been a slave to her desires. She wants a partner in crime, for someone who will stand by her, for someone who will love her even after seeing all the ugly and twisted parts of her psyche, and it cost her the freedom she took for granted.

From the moment she had lighted the candle the night she wagered her soul for a stranger she stupidly claimed to have loved, she already knew she was damned. The flames flickered and illuminated her visage from below, and in the mirror, she can see herself surrounded by darkness; it was how she imagined hell look like, and later, the foolish girl found out that it was far worse than that.

True to her name, she’s fortunate enough to have evaded the Hells the first time. Then came her defeat at the hands of those who were to be her quarry. That should have been the end for her.

The wheel of fortune turns, and she finds herself free from her prison, only for her to squander that freedom again.

All because she’s still a slave to her desires.

The bastard Raphael left a mark on her, after their sin in his king-sized bed- not a mere love bite, but his goddamn initial, in Infernal script, branded onto her skin. It still ached when she woke up, and the curse the let out upon seeing it when she looked in the mirror reverberated through the walls of Raphael’s home.

Now she’s truly damned.

Then again, was she ever free?

Does true freedom even exist?

Raphael manipulating her into a contract didn’t stop her from seeking him out for a distraction from what haunts her. Fortune was bent over hardwood and used like a whore, then read to like a child, and still, she cannot fall asleep, or put the past behind her.

On the other hand, Raphael had already dozed off, his hands slack around the book. His wings are wrapped around the two of them in an embrace guaranteed to warm Fortune up even in the coldest of nights. The tiefling didn’t even know cambions can do that with their wings.

In his slumber, Fortune observes him. In his slumber, he looks at peace. In his slumber, he is vulnerable.

One flick of the rogue’s wrist and that throat would be gaping and spraying with his devil blood.

Instead, Fortune found herself caressing his cheek, and leaving a feather-light kiss on his horned forehead.

True to her nature as a rogue, Fortune moved in silence, careful not to wake her lover up, slipping past his arms and dodging his leathery wings. She puts the book on the table, leaving the bookmark where they stopped, and leaves his study. With muffled footsteps, she treads back to the bed chambers provided to her.

As soon as the doors behind her click shut, the tears started falling.

Everything is all coming back to her; the way Thatcher, or Kairon, broke her damned heart. Fortune is certain Raphael will break it even further.

It started with Thatcher plying her with wine. Devils and their bloody wine.

Before she learned of his true nature, she had mistaken him for another elven noble who wanted to try what lying with a tiefling felt like. In hindsight, him making a remark about wondering how it would feel like to be in her skin should’ve given it away.

A lot has transpired since then, from watching him dragged to the hells due to someone else tampering with his gift meant for her before she can get to it, to losing her mother to a lycanthrope attack and watching her father be cursed with the affliction. It made her desperate to keep the people in her life.

It made her desperate enough to beg Asmodeus to give Thatcher, or rather, Kairon back. Later, it made her desperate enough to embrace her mother’s copy, but that’s a story for another day.

Fortune should have seen the figurative knife coming. Even after wagering her soul for him like that, and after showing his true nature which he loathed so much that he built Thatcher to mask it, he didn’t trust her.

Devils don’t trust.

But Thatcher twisted the knife way too far when he disguised himself as Hoard, sullied his own name to the party, and tried to convince Fortune not to kill those strangers in Asmodeus’ name, just to test their reaction. Of course, Fortune would lie to her father about not wanting to kill those strangers Asmodeus tasked her to eliminate. They’re strangers, and Fortune isn’t that selfless. But learning of the truth that his daughter would be a remorseless killer would break her daddy’s heart.

So, she lied.

Still disguised as her father, Thatcher kissed her forehead, then revealed himself a few moments later, furious at the perceived betrayal.

Devils and their bloody schemes.

The most heartbreaking part is, if Thatcher hadn’t betrayed them, if he had stayed with Fortune, they would have had a fighting chance to take down their quarry. Perhaps they’d have fulfilled their contract with Asmodeus, and earned their freedom.

Instead, Fortune revealed her hand and didn’t even fight back.

Overcame with guilt and despair, the rogue committed suicide by proxy by letting her prey take her down, taking blow after blow until her body collapses, and her minotaur companion, her oldest friend, takes her away, and watches as hellfire claims her.

Poor Villian. He didn’t deserve to see me like that.

Fortune could already feel in her bones that another bloody catastrophe will unfold with Raphael.

Devils are always so tempting at the start. But in the end? All they bring is ruin. One cambion already ruined her. Now she’s letting another one damn her further.

Fortune is certain that Raphael doesn’t trust her either. She’s certain that whatever affection or fondness she has for him won’t change him, just like it didn’t change Thatcher. She’s certain that down the road, Raphael will gut her, just like Thatcher did.

Even worse, she and Raphael consummated their lust.

Fortune is certain that she will never be able to erase what he felt like, what he smelled like, and what he tasted like from her memory.

The rogue was being deceitful when she told the devil that the stress that comes from minding her compatriots is what drove her to seek him out.

Fortune wanted him one last time before the chase begins.

In a hurry, she begins to dress. She had intended to leave through the window, and disappear into the night. Blinking away tears, she puts on her stockings and adjusts the hemline of her skirt. As she puts on her boot, she felt a searing hand on her shoulder.

“My dear, I’m offended that you’d spurn my offer of a bedchamber in my house for a bedroll in the dirt, after I’ve treated you so well too,” he starts, voice hard.

“Wait, Raphael I-”

The words cease from flowing out her mouth as Raphael whirls her around and pushes her against the wall, pinning her under his weight. Forcefully, he burns her lips with a kiss, tongue invading the wet cavern of her mouth. Gooseflesh ripples through Fortune’s body, and she felt her knees buckle under his touch.

“Do I have to remind you of what you agreed to, Fortune?” the devil asks as he gasped for air. “Or do I have to remind you again with a lesson? I grow tired of this; you test my patience-”

Instead of letting passion overrule her better judgment again, Fortune wriggles away, palming at his chest. “No!”

Raphael tries to catch her, but she takes a misty step away from him, panting, tears in her eyes.

“I can’t take it, I can’t! I don’t want your touch right now. I want you to stop touching me,” Fortune wails, voice breaking. “I want you to stay there and listen. You said you’ll give me anything I want, yes? Failing to do so is a breach of contract, so stay put.”

This girl is far too clever, too quick-witted than what he gave her credit for, and Raphael isn’t sure if he should be furious, or proud. The cambion stops short of moving or talking, seeing how doing so would result in him breaking the contract. No devil worth his salt would incur the punishment of Asmodeus’ ruby rod over such an error.

“You truly are a descendant of Glasya. Go ahead, use every loophole you can find, but few walk away from me in violation of a deal, Fortune. Remember that.”

Fortune takes a steadying breath and clears her throat. “Let me explain, just, give me a damn moment.”

“Take all the time you need, we have all night,” Raphael replies, crossing his arms.

Sighing, Fortune takes a seat by the open window, eyes closed as she tries to calm herself. Raphael sat across her, on the bed. In any other circumstance, Raphael would have been relishing at the sight of his clients like this: vulnerable and easily plied. For some bloody reason, he can’t find in himself to celebrate seeing the tiefling lady like this.

This girl really is growing on me.

The cambion’s eyes are trained on her as she began to speak.

“I was lying, I’m getting along well with my compatriots. There was something else haunting me. Remember that whole affair with Asmodeus’ bastard son? It left me scarred, in more ways than one. It left me slow to trust, and yet it also left me desiring to be trusted. I want someone who trusts me. And you devils, I know you’re incapable of such a thing. I don’t think you can fulfill this contract, under these circumstances. If I were cruel, I’d say that I want you to do that for me, and watch you burn as you fail.”

Fortune is right, and that makes Raphael wince. Devils don’t trust.

“But I can’t afford to be cruel right now. I know that I might need you later. And I-“ Fortune hesitates, biting her tongue, then she screws her eyes shut, as if saying the next words physically hurts, “For some bloody reason, I’ve grown fond of you. I still want you. Gods, I want you so much…”

Now that, Raphael did not expect her to say out loud. Still, he gives no reaction, and lets her continue.

“I don’t think I can fulfill my end of the bargain, as well. Oh, bloody hells, I’m not even sure what being yours mean, Raphael! Do you expect me to stay here and sit on my hands while the tadpole eats away at my brain? Is that what you meant in making me yours, by treating me as some kept woman you provide shelter and support to in exchange for my companionship? Is-is it my soul that I wagered to you? You can’t even have that if I lose it to the tadpole- gods! This is far too complicated… The point is, we’re doomed to violate it, one way or another, and you of all people should know that. Isn’t there a way out of this, or at least a way to amend the deal?”

Raphael had been pondering about voiding the deal. Now, there’s an opportunity to do so, but Raphael is not a fool to just let this woman go. To his delight, she had given him an opportunity to make it work in his favor.

The devil produces the written copy of their contract from thin air. “We can agree to render this contract void… as if the deal never happened. However, reverting has its consequences. How would you propose I give back the intangible things you wanted that I provided, Fortune? Like a night of passion, or a request to listen?”

No answer can come out of the tiefling’s mouth. She shakes her head.

Raphael continues. “I admit, I’m also starting to grow fond of you in my way, so I am extending my mercy. For both our sakes, we can agree to amend it with a new one, to balance the books.”

A long, tired sigh pushes past Fortune’s lips. “Looks like I’m stuck with you.”

Fortune’s hand itches to slap that smile off of Raphael’s face, but she kept her hands to herself.

“Now that we’re both in a situation that allows for clearer thinking, unlike the last one…” Raphael begins, harkening back to the circumstances of their first agreement, the memory of burying himself deep inside of Fortune making him lick his lips. “Let’s discuss the stipulations of this new agreement.”

“Name your terms. What makes me yours? What exactly do you want from me?”

The devil’s clawed, long fingers stroke Fortune’s chin, and he leers at her. “I want to own your body,” he purrs into her ear, voice low and seductive. One hand squeezes her hip, and it slowly inches to her behind. “To use it for whatever I desire, my dear.”

“Human, elf, or devil, you men are all alike,” Fortune spits, sneering.

“Are we now? Or is it your dark, sensuous charms that captivates and enthralls a man, regardless of his origins? But I digress- Now name your terms. Tell me something that you want.”

“Now hold on a minute, owning my body could mean several things,” Fortune snaps, placing her palms on his chest. “It could mean that you can use me as a means to sate your sexual appetite. You can use to it bear your children. You could use it to fight a battle. Hell, it could even mean that you own the tadpole in my head, as it is technically inside of my body right now. Reword it.”

Raphael laughs and squeezes her. “This is what I love and hate about you, sweet cherry. You always see beyond what’s in front of you, always reading between the lines, always attempting to think a few steps ahead…”

“I can’t afford myself to be short-sighted anymore, and you know that.”

“Indeed, my dear. Fine, let me rephrase.” Raphael pauses to kiss her neck. “I am the only creature allowed to gain carnal knowledge from you. I am the only one allowed to kiss you, hold you, taste you, know you, and violate you like this. In the works of the flesh, I am your only master,” he near-whispers into her skin, taking in her scent as he did.

“Exclusivity? Are you getting attached now?” Fortune asks, slightly amused at the notion. “Don’t you have countless mistresses who can attend to your needs better than a rogue on the run for a cure to an illithid infection, Raphael?”

A gasp pushes past the tiefling’s hips as her cambion lover grinds his hips against her. Underneath the layers of cloth that separate them, he’s already hard as rock, and pulsing against her thigh.

“As you can see, you’re the only one who can elicit such a reaction from me even before you touch me, little cherry,” Raphael growls.

Truth be told, Fortune is flattered to be this desired, after feeling unwanted from Thatcher’s betrayal. The tiefling leans into him, heat pooling into the pit of her belly.

“Now, name your terms, so we can seal the deal.”

Eyebrows knitting together, Fortune thinks, thoroughly. She needs to make this worth it; being a cambion’s consort and bedmate is too steep of a price for something that won’t be of much use to her. All the nobles that sought out dalliances with her in her youth gave her the same material things Raphael had provided. Even without a noble financing her, riches, she can earn with her own hands, and influence, she can earn with her own tongue. What can Raphael offer that she cannot achieve with her own means? What can Raphael offer that other nobles she had the displeasure of knowing can’t?

Fortune recalls his halfling servant, Korrilla Hearthflame, and how effortlessly she wielded her borrowed magic. The only magic Fortune knew are spells that supplement her roguish activities.

Fortune could use some of Raphael’s magic. Fortune could use more power.

“Make me your warlock. It even ties in with your original intent of using my body- turn me into a vessel of your power.”

The devil’s laughter booms. At this point, Fortune might as well offer herself on a silver platter.

At the same time, Raphael cannot wait to see just how this little vixen will use her gifts.

“My dear, it’s a deal.”

II

Back in his study, Raphael drafts the contract as Fortune looms over his shoulder.

Watching a devil produce a contract out of thin air is a sight that will remain in Fortune’s memories until her last days. In gold ink, the terms of their contract appear on the document. This time, Fortune carefully reads every single word.

Satisfied, she dips the feather in the inkwell, and signs her name over the dotted line. Raphael follows shortly, and the contract dematerializes. Pain sears Fortune’s neck as the brand on her skin glows, signifying that the deal is sealed. Magic surges through her veins, arcane and eldritch powers coursing through her, and she nearly stumbles. Raphael catches her, steadying her feet.

“Couldn’t we just have made a toast to seal it instead of this?” she asks Raphael, an unamused expression on her features. Raphael presses a thumb against the mark. Fortune sucks air through her teeth at the feeling of the touch.

“Don’t you think branding you is more… thematically appropriate, consider the nature of our deal?”

“You devils and your whimsical nonsense,” she groans. To that remark, Raphael snickers.

The devil’s palm glow with hellfire, and an intricate, golden amulet with a blood-red gem embedded in the center materializes. It dangles on a delicate, golden chain. As the metal cools, he unfastens the chain, and puts the necklace around Fortune’s neck.

“There, another gift. A symbol of our deal, and a useful tool in your endeavors. Use your new gifts wisely, Fortune.”

“I intend to make you proud,” she half teases, half declares.

“Ah, speaking of whimsy, there is something new I wish to try tonight. I’m certain that what I have in store will help you bury the memory of that damn Thatcher. First, let’s pick up where we left off…”

With that, his lips descend upon the tiefling’s. This time, she readily accepts him, pushing back the memories that haunt her as she lived in the moment, tasting her lover’s intoxicating tongue, inhaling his heady perfume and musk, and feeling his muscles under his night shirt.

Smoke rises around them, and they are transported to Raphael’s bedroom. The doors to the balcony are left open, the wind making the fog dissipate, and the curtains sway and dance.

Breaking the kiss, Raphael strips himself, and Fortune watches his muscles shift and move with grace. Then, he proceeds to undo her clothing, until both are bare in each other’s presence.

Lifting her up, Raphael groans as his lover wraps her legs around his waist, her arms around his shoulders. With his tail, he pulls a drawer open from his nightstand, and retrieves a fresh flask of that lubricating concoction they used on the first night they lay with each other.

Still carrying Fortune in his arms, he walks to the balcony, and sets her to sit on the railing. The crisp night air makes his member retract slightly, but he’ll warm up soon enough. He pulls away from Fortune, and sees the hesitation in her eyes.

“Worry not my dear. I’ll hold you.”

“On the balcony?!” Fortune blurts out, looking over her shoulder. “What if someone sees us?”

“Let them see,” he moans into her ear, and nips at it.

Kisses mixed with bites and scrapes of sharp teeth mark Fortune’s neck, and any attempts to keep quiet in fear of a passerby hearing fail. Deft fingers pluck, roll, and pull at the hardening cherries on her bosom, cold to Raphael’s touch due to her exposure. Her devil beau’s warm, sinister tongue brushes over the brand on her neck and Fortune curses, the pain and pleasure making her head spin.

Gods, Fortune is almost in her mid-thirties, but with a gentleman like Raphael? She feels inexperienced, and way younger than she should.

She leans back, momentarily forgetting that she’s perched on a railing, and fear jolts into her body, much to Raphael’s fiendish delight. He laughs at her reaction, and she knits her eyebrows together.

“Bastard,” she hisses, cheeks burning in embarrassment and arousal.

Raphael smirks, then firmly holds her with one arm as the other snakes between her legs. His tail brings over the bottle of lubrication, and he pours it all over Fortune’s already glistening sex, thoroughly wetting her until her tender flesh offers no resistance to his claws.

Obsidian eyes saw stars, literally and figuratively, as Fortune throws her head back. Raphael had three fingers lodged between her folds, his pinky inside that tight ring of muscle hidden between the cheeks of her derriere, and his thumb on her clitoris, circling the sensitive cluster of nerves as his fingers teased her. Fortune’s tail curls around his arm.

Raphael went to work. His lips latched on to a tit as he pleasured her. Fortune’s hands flew to his horns to steady herself, feeling the delicious, agonizing stretch of having both of her entrances filled and toyed with.

“My dear girl,” Raphael grunts, taking a break from suckling her breast. “Seeing you like this, I am unsure if I wrote my clause for my benefit, or yours.” Then, he went back to being busy with his mouth, his devilish tongue flicking and circling her hard nipples.

Fortune offers no reply, unable to form words from the intensity of the pleasure she felt. The telltale twitch of her hips lets her lover know that she’s close.

“Now, come for me,” Raphael growls against her breast, then he bites down, her maroon nipple pinched between his teeth, and his ministrations becoming aggressive as cruel as he teased chased that orgasm from her.

A submissive, sexual slave at heart, Fortune spasms around his hand at the command, the sound of his voice pushing her to her release. The devil’s name is upon her lips like a zealot’s pleas, a string of saliva connecting her lips together.

Slick with her release and the salve, Raphael withdraws his hand from between her legs, and he allows her to recover, head pressed against his chest as she breathed heavily. Then, he tilts her chin up, and shoves his forefinger and middle finger in her mouth. Fortune tastes the slightly sweet salve mingling with her own tang.

“Good girl.”

The praise makes Fortune moan against his digits. Raphael’s free hand stroked her head, watching with delighted arousal as her obsidian eyes flutter shut. She licks his fingers clean.

“You love your master’s praise? You want more?”

Fortune nods a few times, eager to please.

“Then you’ll have to earn more.”

Without being prompted, she hops of the railing to kneel before him. A leer spreads across the devil’s mouth as the tiefling grips his member and runs her tongue from the base to the tip.

“Such a good girl you are, learning how your master prefers to be pleasured in such little time…”

With her talented mouth, Fortune bathes him with her saliva, then gets busy suckling the heavy flesh that hangs below his length as she strokes him with her hand, ending it with a wet, lewd pop. Inch by inch, Fortune takes him in until his head tickles the back of her throat, and his dark hair tickles her nose. Eyes watering from exertion, she blinks the tears away and starts to bob her head.

Raphael’s eyes are fixated on his lover, watching her every move with a lascivious expression on his fiendish features. His hands clamp around her horns, and he proceeds to use them as handles as he thrusted his hips.

“Perfect,” he hisses, eyes drinking in the sight of her helpless and at his mercy.

The rogue maintains eye contact as she skillfully pleasured her master, taking all of him in as much as she can, letting him use her mouth. Her hands reach under his manhood to fondle him, squeezing him as he took her.

The devil’s hips twitching, he pulls her away from him, saliva stringing from her mouth to the angry, deep red tip. Fortune gives it one last suck, tongue fluttering against the underside.

“Enough. Bend over the railing, right now.”

The gruff, nearly guttural tone of Raphael’s command makes all of the hair on Fortune’s body stand on end.

“Yes master,” she whimpers as she does as she is told.

An embarrassed squeak bubbles up from the tiefling’s throat as she felt his warm tongue skirting around her back entrance, the ring of muscle quivering as it slid around it. Her tail stands erect in the air, twitching and vibrating like a happy, affectionate feline’s.

“I- that’s- isn’t that- oh! Fuck, Raphael what are you- oh gods,” Fortune babbles, no longer coherent once again. She hates and loves how he manages to rob her of her words every damn time.

The new sensation made Fortune lose herself to the pleasure, wild cherry eyes screwing shut and a look of labored pleasure upon her visage as Raphael licks, sucks, and kisses around the area. It all feels so taboo, and that factor just adds to the tiefling’s exhilaration.

Satisfied with his work, Raphael withdraws his face from between the apples of his lover’s cheeks. He wipes his mouth. With the snap of his fingers, the mess is gone, his mouth and hands clean. Then, with his strength, the cambion dangles half of her body over the balcony, her hips crushed against the cool marble railing. Without the need to tease her due to her already dripping snatch, Raphael slides right inside of her, past her folds, taking her like a bitch once again.

The position makes Fortune panic.

“Oh gods, Raphael, I’ll fall-“

“Shhhh,” he soothes her, holding her firmly. “I will never let you fall. I’m right here…”

Fortune screws her eyes shut, hands planting themselves to the railing as Raphael moves inside her, flesh slapping against flesh.

“Tonight, I am your master, and I’ll leave no holes unfilled once again,” he growls, the tiefling’s messy curls tickling his nose and chin. “You’re mine, and all of you are mine to please myself with and violate, do you understand?”

“Yes, master!” Fortune cries, voice quavering.

The angle of Raphael’s penetration hits Fortune in all of the right places, his head brushing against that spongy cluster of nerves that sends jolts of pleasure radiating through the tiefling’s sinful body. Opening her eyes, she sees the pavement down below, and fear mingles with her pleasure further, breaking her.

Shamelessly, her moan echoed into the night, the howling wind masking it. Her lover reaches one hand around her to massage her clitoris as she rode her release on his length, coming all over him.

As Fortune recovers from her high, Raphael takes the bottle of that lubricating concoction once again, and he douses her backside with it, spreading the lubrication all over her flesh, ensuring that it covers and slickens her hole. Then, he withdraws his hard, hot length from her womanhood, coats that with the lubricant too, and gives It a few pumps.

“Yes, master, please, your cock in my ass,” she begs, and the filthy language makes Raphael twitch. “Please, please, please, I need it!“

As the head pushes past her entrance, Fortune pushes back on it, eager to have her hole suck him inside of her, tail twitching in anticipation once again. The eagerness he displays makes Raphael chuckle, amused that she had grown to love and crave the feeling of being sodomized by him. Not a lot of his mistresses were open to this treatment. Some found it degrading, or violating. Perhaps it is, and Fortune is among the few who sought it out and begged to be degraded and violated.

Fortune felt ashamed of having such desires. However, in the presence of a devil like Raphael, there is no moralistic judgment against them.

What’s for certain, however, is damnation. For dealing with the devil, for consorting with the devil, for surrendering to the devil, Fortune is hellbound.

Raphael slides half of his length in and out a few times, watching with perverse satisfaction as her entrance stretches and shrinks, an obscene pop punctuating each motion. He teases the ring with his head in between penetrating her, basking in her moans and little sounds of enjoyment as he debased her. Finally, he stops teasing. He grabs her hips, dangles her over the edge once again, and pounds her properly, burying himself to the hilt.

The tiefling rogue’s pert breasts bounced and shook as her lover took her, her hands scrambling for purchase on anything she can grab. Thankfully, Raphael bends down to kiss her head, and she uses that opportunity to cling onto his horns. Fortune’s tail snakes around his thigh, clinging on for dear life. This earned her his amusement, and he laughs into her ear at her display of fear.

“Our activities are much more pleasurable when you’re reeling in fear,” he purrs, voice dripping with evil intent. “Are you afraid, Fortune? Scared I might let you fall?”

“Y-yes,” she chokes, breathing hard and fast from the fear of falling to her death, and being pounded mercilessly by a devil.

Raphael’s strong wings curl around their bodies, shielding most of Fortune’s body from the wind, and any onlookers that might be watching. Above all, it felt like a safety net.

“Embrace It, my cherry. Fear and pleasure are two sides of the same coin,” the devil purrs, grunting and groaning as he pumps inside of her.

The pressure starts to build at the base of Raphael’s spine, the pent-up frustration making his tail lash back and forth involuntarily. He had been holding his release for quite a while now.

“I’m close,” he growls. His hand moves to wrap itself around Fortune’s torso. “Join me. Come for me, cherry, come for me…”

One had letting go of his horn to stroke herself, Fortune did her best to follow the command, grunted over and over into her ear. Soon, her release is imminent.

“Raphael, master, I’m coming, I’m coming- yes!“

A deep, guttural groan almost deafens her as she felt his warm seed spill into her in spurts. Fortune cries and moans as she rode out her second climax with Raphael’s, hips twitching and tail shaking around his thigh.

The wind tousles their hair, howling with them.

The devil brings his lover back to safety, pulling her into his arms, and into his warm room. With a soft thud, Fortune finds herself on his bed. Then, Raphael closes the doors to the balcony.

“Stay,” he commands, but his voice is soft, almost taking a nurturing quality to it. The tiefling lays in silence for a brief moment, watching the shadows of the curtains dance.

The devil comes back with warm water and a washcloth, even when both of them could just prestidigitate the evidence of their lovemaking away.

Fortune does not question it.

With care and tenderness unbecoming of a devil, Raphael cleans her up, running the wet cloth on her skin. Mind still hazy from pleasure and fear, the tiefling sits in silent confusion, feeling like a small child being tended to. The rational part of her brain reminds her not to trust any tenderness from a cambion. However, her body, her senses, and her most primal desires crave more of these petty affections.

Once he is satisfied with his work, he lays next to her, and pulls her to his chest, covering her with the duvet to her waist. His wings, sprawling on the king-sized, curl around their bodies, further covering his lover from the cold.

Fortune does not question it.

Instead, unprompted, she whispers.

“I love you.”

[thatpunkmaximoff]

[Book Two of Four]

Story: 5 out of 5 Smut: 2.5 out 5

So, I was nervous I wasn’t going to like this book because of Brenna’s personality, but damn if I didn’t end up loving this book!

The risk of dating the enemy really paid off for her, haha.

As usual, you have the fun banter and equally fun interactions between these college students, but I was surprised most with Brenna’s interaction with her dad. That conversation between them towards the end had me in tears. Oh my god.

This book starts off going up and up and up, and then that downfall at the end keeps you in a chokehold to see how it will play out. Definitely worth the read.

* Dear lord. The tension between these two is amazing 🥵

* Dude, McCarthy is head over heels in love with Brenna and all she wants is a casual hook-up. How is he gonna handle it when his captain ends up dicking her down?

* So that was her hook-up with Mike!? A sloppy makeout session and a handjob she didn’t even finish because she fell asleep 😂

* Ew. That internship interview was tanked the moment that sexist asshole opened his mouth. Poor Brenna.

* Tansy is the worse cousin ever. I’d have ditched her too.

* His hand was RIGHT THERE! And they let their phones distract them? I’m so disappointed lol.

* Lol she told that sleazebag interviewer that Jake was her boyfriend 🤦🏻‍♀️ And now he wants one real date for every fake date he has to go on. Yes!

* Goddamn. As if her junkie ex asking for cash wasn’t frustrating enough, her basement apartment flooded. Girl can’t catch a break.

* That was a dinner from hell. I would have made Jake grovel. Fuck that.

* Awww. She had fun on their date 🥹 but that phone call ruined the mood. It was totally her junkie ex, wasn’t it?

* I like that Jake’s best friend is looking out for him, but I feel like she’s jealous. Like she expects them to get together after graduation and him suddenly liking a girl enough to date is throwing her off.

* Oh fuck. Hockey Net is gonna air the Briar/Harvard game? Why do I get the sick feeling Mulder is gonna be on it and out Jake and Brenna’s “relationship”.. 😬

* Oh no… the enemy coach caught them 😅 Fucckkkk.

* Goddamn. They had to go rescue her junkie ex and he had the audacity to ask for fifty bucks..!? What a moron.

* Oh fuck. That fight on the ice was brutal. And totally not the characters I expected it from.

* The fucking Harvard coach outed them?!

* I fucking hate Brenna’s dad right now. Fuck this guy.

* And now I fucking hate Hazel, the best friend, for getting in Jake’s head. wtf, dude!

* Goddamn. And now I’m crying 😭

* I swear to god, Hazel better give Jake that bracelet. I’m gonna be pissed if she hides it from him.

* Wowwwww. She didn’t give him the bracelet. What a bitch.

* Now she did. Still a bitch love because she was in love with her best friend. Thankfully Jake doesn’t return her feelings.

* Awww. They’re together. And I’m glad she got that last minute jab at Harvard’s coach. Dick deserved it.

[alkaloidalypse]

im too tired to make a long essay of me overanalyzing the mv so im just gonna rocket fire my general thoughts about it 

SIKE this game has me on a chokehold i can never stop overanalyzing

LIKE THIS SHOT. ITS SUCH A TINY CHANGE IN EXPRESSION, SO LITERALLY TINY, BUT IT CONVEYS SO MUCH EMOTION AND I HATE IT HERE 

no but seriously i infer its because natsume was the one who wrote their ‘happy ending’. so him having an expression like this is like a ‘4th wall breaking’ because natsume was the writer in this ending. but this ending never happened. 

alternatively, it could just be a genuine expression he would have made if they did have this ending. im not entirely sure if its meant to be negative or a positive emotion but im guessing its more positive. like a “we did it. we’re here. im happy we’re all here together and i won’t have it any other way”

then we have this specific shot

“We want to feel your rhythm (Right here).”

do i have any idea whats going on right here? no. i just unfortunately have a lot of emotions 

---

the second part i want to at least talk about was the choice to change the instrumental of the animation mv. put it simply, i love both renditions but i wondered why they decided to make the instrumental different. from what i remember, the instrumental for genuine revelation was the same for the animation mv, so why the change?

im not going to guess the music direction they took but there is something i realized upon listening to both of them. 

ive listened to the original more times i could count now, and i remember how ‘happy’ it sounded until you see the lyrics and remember the story of the five eccentrics. its from there the ‘happiness’ of the song lessened to something more bittersweet in a way. the music is happy, but their story is not. they aren’t the winners, so they sing their sorrows, lament on the fate they are being pushed into but at least being able to find joy having each other, even if in the end they have to suffer for it. and as the listener, while enjoying the music i don’t necessarily feel joy (it is still a beautiful song)

but the new mix of eccentric party night, the whole music video, i can’t keep up with it. there were so many things going on on screen and the instrumental is so drastically different from the original. the build ups, the techno sounds, honestly all of that reminded me of a rave party

and that’s when i realized. that’s exactly what the animation mv was about. its a freaking party. no duh, its in the title. but they basically took that word and use it in their mv tenfold. a party is a celebration, a happy occasion, and in this ending that’s impossible to achieve, there is something worth celebrating

the lyrics are still the same, their voices are still the same. but somehow, the energy and vibe was completely changed. its like they’re hyping the crowd up to join in their party. theres birds flying, sparklers around the stage, natsume doing magic that affected the whole room, glowing balloons and said balloons being released into the air. freaking confetti everywhere, the lights changing depending on the chorus and verse and GOD there’s just so MANY things going on and it never stops. its a goddamn party and im loving it

even the group itself, they kept on jumping and twirling around while still doing the main choreography and keeping this energy up the entire time

honestly, i have not felt this hyped listening to an enstars song before. every time i watched the mv i just want to jump and join them in their dancing. i should be sad. i should feel bittersweet about it. but for some reason, im not

maybe eventually i’ll feel that same sadness i did for the original, but for now i hope there’s a full version with this mix. because i would love to dance around my room to this song

[alethiometry]

Edward Kenway for character asks!

ooooooo okay i should open this with a disclaimer: i have not finished black flag yet (about 2/3 of the way through i think? i need to level up my ship so i can beat the next story mission lol) so everything i'm saying here is based on the game up to thatch's death, and everything we know about edward in ac 3: forsaken and the comics that came out a couple years ago.

First impression

oh boy... to be honest, one of the reasons it took me such a long time to get around to playing black flag (it was one of the first ps4 games i bought when i got my console in 2016, and i didn't start until about a month ago) was because i didn't really feel particularly strongly about edward's character design. i was vaguely interested in That One Pirate Assassin Game after having watched (and loved) black sails, but was afraid i would be let down; to me edward just looked like Some Dude, and i was still hung up on the black sails gang. to me, black sails and its characters were so genre/time period-defining that any other piece of pirate media just seemed lackluster in comparison.

i'd also heard a lot of praise for edward and for ac4 in general so i was aware that it was a very popular and well-received game. but since i mostly heard that from reddit (didn't join tumblr ac fandom until odyssey in 2018) i kind of discounted it, bc gamer reddit tastes are... questionable at best.

Impression now

I LOVE HIM!!! i always think i want stories about virtuous characters who believe in goodness and kindness and aren't motivated by gold or glory but aren't afraid to do what needs to be done to help others who can't help themselves. and sometimes that's true (coughratonhnhake:toncough). other times i end up clowning on myself because i realize that it's so much fun when said good/kind character has a rough and rugged exterior, and is motivated by personal gain (i think edward and kassandra are kinda kindred spirits across time and space in that regard, but maybe that's another rant for another time). sometimes you just want someone to be a little bit of an opportunistic bastard, and boy does edward fit that to a T. he's an incredibly complex man, and i think what really got me was that even as he was impersonating assassins and then templars and then assassins again, all for personal gain (pickpocketing the templars in havana while he gains their trust and agrees to do their dirty work lmfao my beloved <3), his primary motivation for doing so was to prove to caroline and her family that he is someone worth a damn, that he is capable of great things and that he is worthy of their love and acceptance. and i know from ac forsaken that the marriage with caroline doesn't last (though i haven't played ac4 far enough to see if that happens on screen, or if it occurs between the game and the novel) which makes his backstory in the game all the more heartbreaking. but his optimism and perseverance and determination to prove himself are all what make me love him.

so that's edward the romantic. now let's talk about the way edward is with adewale, his crew, and his friends. and let's also put the rest of this behind a readmore bc girl i am RANTINGGGGGG

he has several lines that he says to adewale that make me physically cringe (namely: "many of [these men] wouldn't accept you as captain" or "what was it like being enslaved?" like i get that someone like edward would be asking that question in good faith and genuine curiosity but also JESUS CHRIST UBISOFT). but on the flip side - cringey as those questions are, he also takes the time to actually listen and learn, and i think he genuinely values the perspective that he gets from adewale allowing him to open these lines of trust and communication. there's a patience and mutual respect there that i adore.

i also love how much edward loves his crew and his other pirate friends. those scenes of him + kidd + thatch + adewale + hornigold (lol) drinking on the beach and having a grand old time and talking about establishing - to borrow one of my favorite chills-down-my-spine phrases from black sails - a nation of thieves, for people like them to live and prosper, free from the chokehold of civilization. and i know he's not as outwardly invested in counterculture/independence/anticolonialism as thatch and vane and kidd are, but the fact that he so wholeheartedly supports his friends' goals, lofty and impossible as they are, speaks volumes about his love for his friends.

Favorite moment

every scene he has with kidd when kidd casually and softly reminds him that they see that he is a good person beneath his opportunistic and rambunctious exterior. i especially love when they discover julien du casse's mansion containing orders for templars to go out and hunt down assassins: the way kidd immediately knows that edward wants to help the assassins as a way to make up for the damage he did while masquerading as a templar, even if he hasn't voiced it aloud himself. the way that they don't force edward to admit anything about himself before he is ready, but still constantly remind him that he has a good heart. they give him space to come to terms with his compassionate side in a world/environment that more often than sees compassion as something to be stamped out or cast aside. i don’t love when characters are forced to be the Moral Compass for a main dude character, but i think it works for edward and kidd.

Idea for a story

not an edward story per se, but there are 2 povs into edward's life that i would cut off (someone else's) limbs for:

jenny's pov growing up in the kenway household. from haytham's pov it seems that she knows way more about his past than haytham ever did (it was hinted at that there are rumors about edward’s past as haytham was growing up that he wasn’t privy to, but i don’t think at any point in the novel does haytham ever find out definitively that his father was a pirate) and i want to know how she knew so much, and more into what her life was like - through her eyes rather than haytham, who is like 10 years younger and by his own admission barely understands her and barely has a functional relationship with her. i'll expand further on edward and jenny in the next question/prompt/bullet point, actually, bc i have a LOT more to say.

connor's pov learning about his grandfather from... idk? who's around to tell him? what's so goddamn sad is that by the time connor rebuilds the colonial brotherhood he's kinda the only one left. sure there's aveline down in louisiana, but as far as we know everyone who was around in edward's generation is dead now, and i'm not sure how much of the kenway saga is preserved for connor to discover, or if all this information about their family line was discovered in the modern-day, by your abstergo employee character, and later by osto berg in the comics. which is why i so badly want a revelations-style game where connor traces his assassin heritage back to the caribbean, relives some of edward's memories, and then makes the trip to london to see his aunt jenny. it would have been such a cool way to round out the kenway saga.

Unpopular opinion

idk how popular or unpopular this is bc i rarely see other in-depth posts about it on my dash, but edward was a terrible father to jenny. he was every bit the wonderful and loving father to haytham for the 10 years that haytham had a father, but i wish we'd seen more of jenny's perspective than just a few lines of dialogue in haytham's diary: i hate the way edward sidelined her and raised her in the same manner that any other wealthy person of the time would have raised their daughter - that is, for the sole purpose of sitting pretty and marrying her off in an arrangement that would benefit the family. it's especially hard to reconcile because in ac4 there are female assassins in the americas, and there are female pirates in the caribbean, so it's not like edward isn't aware that women have as much right as any man to live life on their own terms. it just seems like by the time he returns to england and settles down with his family, he's reverted back to the societal norms and gender roles that the pirates fought (and lost) against, and it's hard not to be deeply disappointed by that.

to be clear, i don't begrudge edward settling down and becoming a Rich Society Man. dude deserves to live comfortably with his loving family. he has every right to dote on his wife and children, and leave behind the hardships of being a pirate. but i think "fightning against deeply-ingrained cultural norms/expectations is a long and bloody struggle, and after losing so many people he cared so deeply about, i think it's understandable that edward wouldn't want to continue that fight alone (and also adewale is still fighting the good fight) (do NOT @ me about ac rogue I Pretend I Do Not See It)" and "i don't love the way edward sidelined his daughter into societally-expected gender roles she did not want; it makes me think that he did not continue drinking his Respect Women Juice as much as i thought he did/wanted him to" are two opinions that can coexist.

Favorite relationship

i don't know that i ship edward romantically with anyone, actually. i thought he and caroline were cute in the beginning, but it's hard to want to ship them knowing that she leaves him eventually. and ofc there'd edward/tessa in ac forsaken, and we know they were very happy together and that he loved her so so much. but we don't see that relationship except through haytham's eyes.

as for non-romantic relationships, i already talked at length above about his relationships with adewale and the other pirates and kidd, and i'll just leave it at that. i'm also vaguely aware that edward's got some upcoming scenes with anne bonny, but i'm not at that point in the game yet so i don't have much to say about the two of them. so far i've only seen them say a few lines to each other at the nassau tavern.

Favorite headcanon

kassandra absolutely rubbed shoulders with edward at some point during his time in the caribbean; i like to think that she needed to lie low for some reason (maybe she was with the assassins idk) and joined his crew. i just need my best stabby gal and my second-favorite stabby dude to be pals!

finally, this isn't a headcanon per se but it is obligatory that any time i talk about kenways i yell for a bit about the fact that EDWARD WOULD HAVE LOVED CONNOR SO SO SO MUCH AND I'M FOREVER DEVASTATED THAT HE NEVER GOT TO MEET HIM. at the same time, if edward hadn't been murdered and haytham not been indoctrinated into the templars the way he had, i'm not sure connor would even have existed. and in a way i'm glad that edward wasn't around to see how broken and cynical and depressed haytham became, because i think that would have absolutely broken his heart.

send me a character!

[majirocksoff]

Majima breaks Kiryu out of prison; now with alt backstories. Majima x Kiryu / Kiryu x Nishiki (implied) Takes place during Y1. (Longfic, 70k words+)

His name is One-Thousand-And-Five.

Yesterday he was someone else, had been given, with the manners of a machine and the politeness of policy, the name, Mr. One-Thousand-And-Six.

Tomorrow he will be someone else again, at the ringing of the perfunctory bell that divorces one day from another: Mr. One-Thousand-And-Four.

In between the going-aways and the coming-tos, he collects names like dust. He goes to the chow hall, and he becomes Wait Your Turn; in going to the yard he becomes Thirty Minutes More. At the shower he gains a uniquely ephemeral identity: Batch-Two-Quickly-Now. He goes in, let the water scald off his skin, be reborn in water burning so hot it strips him red. Coming out shiny like a cooked lobster, he can wear a new identity for the rest of the night: The Dogshit of Dojima.

— —

In his prison cell he is nothing, his action is waiting.

Waiting is not inaction, this is the second thing you learn in prison.

Before prison you have assumptions, and the assumption is that waiting is just something that happens while the rest of your life is unraveling, becoming, acquainting itself to happenstance; fusing itself, in chemical reaction to coincidence, so that events may soon happen. You are always about to do something while you are waiting: buy groceries, run errands, break someone’s neck. Waiting is anticipation, a pre-meditated murder of time.

You were wrong, you know that now. Waiting is action, this is what you learn in prison.

It is an action that must be actively done. You fold yourself as small as possible into diamond-shaped patterns in the privacy of your cell (waiting is not done in public, it is sacred). You may sit cross-legged or seiza, stand on ceremony or leaning coolly, curled up in your bed with an arm tucked behind your head. Sucking your thumb, if you must.

Your exterior does not matter when you’re waiting, what matters is your interior, which must be shrunk. You shrink yourself inside, small-small as possible, until you can be turned around and poured out, and out-plop comes your soul and it won’t fill even a leaky thimble. You do this by stripping identities out of yourself.

Once upon a time you might have wanted to be great, for example, to follow in the footsteps of Kazama-san, to trace yourself in his shadow.

You take this desire and you erase it, line by line from the top, beginning first from the greatest concept then extending to everything else. You first forget the sentence whole; then you dismiss in inches and angry nights everything else: Kazama-san, the concept of greatness, the idea of footsteps, the desire of wanting, an entity of ‘you’, the stretching of time, once of the past, until at last you can be left alone with nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Then you wait.

— —

The first thing you learn in prison, is that you have no identity.

You’re given an ID the moment you step in, and you think philosophical thoughts: ah, is this what I shall be? You were wrong, of course, because a series of number is an identity, and that identity is more solid than what you’ll eventually end up with.

Your identity becomes the days you have left, because 8-1-5-7-6 rankles your ears and bedevils your patience. At roll call, they put existential fear into you: will you be here for eighty thousand days, each by minutes longer than the last? You cannot. You fear. Your soul trembles and weep. You cast it off and take a new name: Mr. Three-thousand-six-hundred, all ten years to be waited tattooed on you; it is a long time but it can be waited. In contrast eighty thousand is forever.

When you take on the others it becomes easier; take them on in the secret corners of the prison where lips can split, skulls can break, nails torn one by one out of grasping flesh. There are many corners where the guards don’t see, willfully blind, and here you can be beaten by anyone: your seniors, your juniors, your hitmen, your old friends, your new enemies. Gradually in blood you extract from them new names:

The Dogshit of Dojima, that fucking backstabbing cunt, the lil Tojo shit, why ya staring, asswankcuntsucker, goddamned cocksucker, oi fuck off, are-ya-happy-now-ya-murdering-cunt, and so on.

They’re fine names; at least they don’t have numbers.

— —

The man with the one eye comes and instantly breaks every rule. He is an earthquake: in his presence you must obey new rules, run for high ground, cower in clear spaces.

He comes, swinging his hips like a new officer, twirling his hands holding an invisible bat, eating with his lips a pop song five years too new for you. He peels back the skin of the cell the moment he arrives. He overturns containers. He looks into the toilet, opens up the flusher, cracks open the sink to examine the deep sadness of the hole in the middle. He takes out his sheets, folds it messily so that he can lay in it like a well fucked boy.

All this you see, his cell is right opposite yours.

“Yo,” He says. He puts his legs up in a cross, carefully, making space for the steel tips he must have worn once. He straightens the eyepatch he was allowed (they had tried taking it from him, but realized too late it was too much a part of him, it would have killed him).

“What’s yer name?”

You are surprised. It is a terrible question, a faux pas, an abhorrent question never asked in prison. How could he, how dare he?

A name? He wants a name? But you don’t have a name, you’re a condemned spirit. You’ve worked hard to get this far. The Japanese dream: work so hard you don’t know who you are. Once you had a name, and it’d laid discarded in a laundry pile. You wait for him to understand how rude he’s been and go away.

“Oi ya deaf? Ya want me to go over there and beat it out of ya?”

There’s three feet of corridor and two sets of bars separating you, and you see that he means it.

You lick your cracked, chapped lips, tried hard to recall…

“My… Name?”

“Just my luck,” He swore. “I’m roomed with a fuckin’ idiot. Your name! Your name! Are ya daft?”

He needs to be patient. Names are the first thing to go, and the last thing to be replaced. He doesn’t know what he’s asking, demanding a name. Oh, the weeks to come, wracked in the throes of identity. Does he not know? Does he not care, how much this hurt, to recall a name?

Reluctantly, slowly (time itself is slow here) it is said.

“My name is… Kazuma. Kiryu. Kazuma, Kiryu, Kazuma. Yes, that’s my name.”

Oh, he says, mouth perfect on an O. The Dragon of Dojima? That Kazuma-fucking-Kiryu? That you? The Dragon of Dojima? The fucking Dragon of Dojima?

“Hell yeah! Always wanted to fight me a dragon! Sit tight in that cell, dragonshit, because I’m comin’ for ya Kiryu-chan!”

— —

Majima Goro was introduced to him in bits of nerve, bones, and tissues.

Kiryu goes as far away from him as he can. Now that he has identity it is not so easy to walk the hallways of the prison; it clings to him like bits of plastic wrap, tight and suffocating, each piece determined to make themselves be remembered. Every nook and cranny and day and night that once he’d lived as a young man of Kamurocho, clamored to be the one to dice his anonymity to pieces. He will not be forgotten, he cannot forget, not if they have any say about it.

In the manner of Majima’s walking and the dance of his fingers on the cutlery he sees the glittering manner of a younger Kamurocho, a visitor, a stranger, here to tell him: time has passed, but not enough time yet so that you can see it firsthand. Time is here to visit. The outside world has been let in, poured angry but fearsome into his cells.

The rattling of Majima’s bars replaces his roll call, his silent private mornings.

“Hey,” He screams (he is always screaming, he has no other verb). “Hey Kiryu-chan! Wake up, I’m bored!”

At night he rattles them like chains, screaming again: “Tell me a bedtime story, Kiryu-chan! Hey? Ya ignorin’ me? I can’t sleep, why don’t ya stay awake too? We could play imaginary shogi, how 'bout that?”

He is gyoku; the king that has come to sweep all of Kiryu’s neat, patiently-allocated time away and replaced it with himself, loud and trying, rolling over all the hallways into the secret corners where he is allowed to beat up Kiryu.

The first time he does this he shatters bone, broke clean through in one piercing fist Kiryu’s entire cheekbone, part of his jaw. Lovingly Majima brought him to the sink and tended his wounds; he tended him five times, smashing Kiryu up-down-up-down onto the metal until it shatters Kiryu’s nerves, it was so loud, and the metal had caught him in the ear. Majima left him tended, tender, tenderized, lying in a pool of blood leaving him rapidly for the freedom of the drains. The water, slow and warm now, cascading over him, lights bright and disorienting, the smell of soap mixed with the secrets of prison bathrooms.

He is made to realize he is fuhyo; a low mere degraded pawn. Like a pawn he could only move forwards, could not retreat, could then only be pushed into Majima’s arms, holding him in a chokehold over metal plates of curry and rice.

“Ya not such hot shit, Dragon of Dojima,” Majima tells him, whispering in his ear. “Ya just plain shit. I’m so disappointed. Ya disappointin’ me here, with your lousy ass performance. Kiryu-chan, ya need to shape up. Ya the best entertainment I’ve got around here and you’re so. goddamned. boring.”

He cracked his neck and laughed the whole time Kiryu goes down.

Once Kiryu remembers, he would have soared with Majima in his clutches and brought him down like thunder, would have stepped on him and never realized it - ah, might have thought, it’s dirtying the soles of my shoe, the little soul of Mad Dog Majima stuck in the rubbery meat he walks on.

“Kiryu-chan!” The hound howls. “Kiryu-Kazuma-chan! Come on, let’s play imaginary shogi! Are ya mad I beat ya? Or are ya mad that I beat ya up? Don’t be such a princess, Kiryu-chan! Let’s play, let’s play, let’s play!”

The hellhound becomes a puppy at night, frolicking in the lonesome cells; his cell bounded by Kiryu’s bounded by others. Only other people don’t matter to him; only strangely, Kiryu mattered to him. Kiryu was fun, Kiryu was gokudo, Kiryu had a past. The others Majima couldn’t wake up, couldn’t ask: who are you? What did you do to end up here? They can’t answer him, all of them mute and anonymous, because most of them have worked hard to forget, and unlike Kiryu could not be brought back.

With their sad sunken eyes and closed eyelids they watch Kiryu and Majima play imaginary shogi; kei-ma leapt over kin over gin, pushing aside hisha, storming onto kaku. Who are you, Kiryu whispers one night in bravado. He pressed his head back against the cell bars, sitting with his eyes closed to better remember the shogi board. Hands folded loosely across his lap, moving invisible pieces around.

I am Kei-ma, Majima whispered. Kiryu collects this identity, examine it in the moonlight, thinks fragmented thoughts –

“Are ya an idiot, Kiryu-chan? It just looks like my name - it’s a joke! Ya stupid ass thinking it means anything?”

He grinned, laughing so hard he overturns their imaginary board; neither can remember now which pieces were where. “This prison getting to ya, you’re a goddamned old fuck now.”

— —

Trapped now in the machine of his identity, Kiryu loses his numbers. He realized this one day when he had to go down to the office, to ask with form in hand exactly how many days he had to wait; the answer came back and surprised him, he is holding less numbers than he thought he had. They had slipped through his fingers and rolled into forgotten corners when he wasn’t watching.

He is now Mr. Nine-Hundred-and-Fifty, a whole month having passed him in scorn. Those numbered days he could no longer wear; Majima had forced his identity back onto him and they won’t go on now, came on like a loose coat, baggy in the elbows. He can no longer wait, at least wait the way he used to. There is no patience to be had, with Majima strolling bored and callous into his privacy, intruding with answers, leaving with questions.

Why are you here, Majima-san, he asked - desperate to give Majima more form, more identity, to know more so that he can become less to Kiryu.

What crime did you commit? Who did you kill? How did you live?

“Wouldn’t ya like to know, Kiryu-chan? I’m bored, bored, so maybe I’ll tell ya - but ya have to beat me first.”

They dance in the yard. They have exactly six minutes before the officers come with batons and extra days, so they must be quick, trading fists until their faces are bloated with blood and torn epidermis; Kiryu dancing better now but still far from a match to Majima, so that Majima danced with him only because he had no better partners. A fallen dragon made of shit was still better than just plain shit. Majima pivots on the officer, says: it’s me, I started this.

An act of generosity. It surprises Kiryu, he doesn’t know what to say, Majima taking this sin into the confession of his records.

“I ain’t plannin’ ta stay here twenty-five years, so what’s a few months that I won’t be around for?” He bared nasty teeth at Kiryu. “I ain’t like ya. I ain’t the wallowing sort. I’ll be out before six months is up.”

Oh, Kiryu said. Glad but sad, sad and glad. He is relieved that Majima in leaving will restore him to his formless mass again; bittersweet that he loses such a strict mold. Kiryu Kazuma Kazama Nishikiyama Dojima. Things he can’t forget as long as Majima is around, rooting him, anchoring him without his permission and against his wants.

“Whoooo—”

— —

The days are slipping away so fast now that he has to seize it with both hands clenched so tight his knuckles go white. Stay, he commanded. Stay. Seizing his miserable days in his hands, he watched Majima prepare for flight. By inches and minutes and lost seconds he withdraws from Kiryu, become more and more likely to disappear during yard time and bath time and free time, to meet with associates strange and shapeless huddling in the other yard.

Lined up against theirs but separated by a fence is the small-timers, the low-hitters, the off-ballers, little people who won’t be doing more than six months in the most deprived luxuries, off-site beside them, counting less than one-hundred-eighty-days.

It is these people that Majima meets, forehead-to-forehead like lovers, whispering convoluted plans calculated like algebra. When they hide, when they bother to hide, Majima scratches at the fence with loose-tipped fingers, plucking the fence like a guitar, plucking tunes at his associates until they come: unwilling but bowed by Majima’s boys who’d sequestered themselves in the smaller prison.

Where is — He demanded.

What is —

How shall —

How does the flight mechanism work? How does Kiryu find out? He finds out in nerves; Majima sometimes, sidling up to him, having the nerve to ask: I have a question. Where is the control room for —

Kiryu frowning, turning away, saying go, go I don’t know, don’t trouble me, I’ve never seen, I couldn’t possibly know, I never meant to go, never meant to leave, this prison is for me, nine-hundred-days only left to be. Majima beating him with his fists until he lay shivering and nurturing wounds on the ground, beating his identity into him.

Tell me what you see, Majima demanded.

“Kiryu-chan, don’t ya lie to me. I’ve been watchin’ ya watchin’ and ya know it. Ya just don’t know that you know it. Well, that’s what I’m for. I’m going to beat your piece of shit memory into your head.” He seized Kiryu by the collar, lift him up so that he could be closer to the sun, shaking him over and over again.

“Tell me! Where is it? You know where it is!”

Come, Kiryu told him, spitting out blood. Led him to the dark places in the prison where things can be seen, push him into corners angled right, take him away from plans angled wrong. You’re not doing this right, he told Majima. This control room is patrolled all the time, six-at-a-go, it’s a no-go, a no-show, what you want, really want, is this other place. You won’t know it unless you’ve been like me; a man without identity, they don’t let anyone see if they’ve got eyes. The crow-pig comes and pluck out your eye, one on each side, if they see you waiting to watch.

“I get it,” Majima said. “Thanks.”

More, “Hey, ya wanna come with—”

No, he said, he only had nine hundred more to go, it didn’t mean anything to him. All he wants is for Majima to leave, and quickly - so that he can once more be subsumed by anonymity.

— —

In bits and pieces he watch Majima assembled his plan; in his patience Kiryu had learned to see everything, and in so seeing saw that his plan would work before Majima himself knows it. Majima shrunk and wrapped himself in ignorance until the plan itself is executed. He goes with the flow, himself. Doesn’t need to have foresight. He’ll work it until it works, even if he fails this time. They waited calm and nerveless in their cells for the escape that will come soon.

“It’ll work,” Kiryu told him sleepily. Tomorrow, he’s thinking. This will be their last game of imaginary shogi, so he slipped: slipped the golden knife in and ate Majima’s king whole.

“Damn, ya good, Kiryu-chan. Ya totally wreck me this time.”

“Thank you for teaching me how to play.”

“Teach ya? Kiryu-chan, ya always knew how to play. Don’t ya know? Don’t ya remember? You could do anything you wanted - that’s why you were the dragon. All I did was make ya remember.”

Oh, he doesn’t remember anymore; all he’d wanted to was forget. Tomorrow when Majima is gone, he’ll go back to forgetting again. Reverse-engineering an onion, putting back layer by layer his thin skin to cover the sound of the silence inside. Eight-hundred-something more days to be lived. The days had leapt from his hands but he’ll have them back under rein again. When Majima is unleashed.

“Good luck, Majima-san,” He said.

“Thanks, Kiryu-chan. Couldn’t have done this without ya,” Majima said.

— —

He comes awake, frightened by the silence.

Kiryu sat in the dark and listened: there were no sounds. Not just the greater sounds of the outside world: cameras that had stopped working, alarms silenced and napping, doors grinding to a halt in mid-air. There is silence in him everywhere that frightens him - he can no longer hear the sound of forgetfulness, he’s forgotten how to forget…

A knife pressed itself tightly to his jugular, nicked him not because it’d miscalculated. Its owner was just sadistic, wanted him to bleed, wanted to see the sheen of a dragon’s blood.

“Kiryu-chan.” whispered Majima. “Ya coming with me.”

“No,” He gasped. “No.” He wanted to stay, was terrified by the outer world.

“I ain’t givin’ ya a choice. Ya coming with me, whether ya like it or no. Ya my present to that fucking Nishikiyama cunt.”

He pushed his knife in. Hissed orders at Kiryu until reluctantly, Kiryu unfolded himself and groped with seeking hands in the darkness. At length he found the thread of the plan, and began to follow it as it unraveled in the darkness of the prison, its silvery length glowing with hope. They walked down the halls quiet and empty illuminated by the shining spool. Somewhere somehow Majima had secreted all the officers away.

The inmates lined row by row in their rat-holes to watch them, trapped in their cell that wouldn’t open. When they realized what had happened, they howled like hell itself - unfair! unfair! unfair! - and hands scratched, brushed, rend at them from all sides. The inmates will drag them down to the pits if they could only reach…

Outside.

Air the same but different; they’re on the other side of the fence now. There is a motorcycle waiting, a snakeskin jacket, a small tanto and a helmet. A set of clothes prepared by someone who thought Kiryu was as big as he’d seen Kiryu last. Untrue, he has shrunk now, made skinny by the weak broth of prison.

“Put on the helmet,” Majima said. There was only one.

“Don’t you—”

“I can’t fuckin’ see with a black glass on, asshole. Vision strictly 10/20. 'sides,” He smiles. “That skull of yours worth ten of mine, isn’t it?”

Kiryu knew nothing; there was too much not being said. He climbed onto the motorcycle, clamped loose hands around Majima’s middle, and then they flew, across snowy landscapes into the cold and a freedom he never wanted but had received.

[littledoggy-girlcollar]

A Hot Fucking Take

Kara has kept in touch with... whatever that ship Mon-El and Winn are on is called. Because, duh, the dude she liked once upon a time and also her best friend is on there, and also Brainy wanted to keep in touch with them in case anything happens.

Winn figures out a way to do on-command contact, like phone calls. Kara and Mon-El (because they have that connection of having had their planet blow up) end up calling each other all the time to just rant about stupid shit, whether it’s about saving people or just bullshit they’ve had to deal with that day.

Eventually Kara starts confiding in Mon-El about her friendship with Lena. The first time it happens he’s like “uh-huh” and lets her go on. The second, third, and fourth times she does this he does the same thing. The fifth time Kara’s like “Mon-El... I think I might have a crush on her” and he just SCREAMS really loudly so someone comes to check on him (Winn, Imra, whoever) and he’s like “no I’m fine” and as soon as their gone he turns back to the camera (think of it like FaceTime) and whispers “jesus christ fucking finally you goddamn idiot how long did it take you to figure out for God’s sake I was ready to come back to Earth just to smack you over the head” and Kara’s just like “hhhhh.”

So a portion of their calls becomes dedicated to Kara yelling about Lena for five minutes to three hours. Mon-El starts bringing popcorn (Winn managed to genetically engineer the kernels. He also occasionally sits in and steals some from Mon-El’s bowl even though he has his own. Kara smirks every time that happens).

When Winn’s not there Mon-El tells Kara about his own love troubles.

One day Kara calls very excitedly and starts rambling and blushing and zooming around the room. Alex is in the background with some wine and her own popcorn just sitting on the couch watching her. When Kara finally calms down enough to speak in coherent sentences (at least half an hour later) all she manages to say is “LENAKISSEDME” before flying out the window and screaming. Alex starts laughing, Winn shrieks and falls out of his chair, flailing and laughing, and Mon-El just sits in stunned silence for a second. When Kara comes back he yells “son of a BITCH WINN-” because he made a bet about who would make the first move and now he’s on decontamination and toilet duty for two weeks.

After they’re all done freaking out Winn goes to grab whatever the ship’s equivalent of red wine is and listen to Kara gush about it for another hour before she has to do stop some dickhead from blowing up a tower. As soon as the call ends Winn turns to Mon-El and goes “so how and when do we tell them” and Mon-El says “in person. So like in a month. Our time reactor is malfunctioning and I don’t want to attempt a space AND time jump at the same time so we need to...” and Winn sighs and listens to him ramble.

A month later Kara and Lena have talked about their feelings and have started dating (the most unbelievable part of this whole thing I know). They’re going to Kara’s apartment for Game Night but the door is already open. They go in Mon-El is sitting on the counter and when he sees Kara he just goes “BITCH!” and Kara goes “BITCH!” and tackles him off the counter. Somewhere in the apartment Winn pops his head out of a room to watch them wrestle. When they finally stop, Kara has him in a choke-hold. Lena is standing in the doorway feeling Confused. She looks at Mon-El and is like “you called yourself Mike right” and he wheezes (from the chokehold) “yeah” and then because Lena is slightly Jealous she goes “didn’t you two used to date” and Mon-El.

Mon-El snorts, twists to face Kara, and between fits of laughter manages to yell out, “HEY KARA REMEMBER WHEN WE THOUGHT WE WERE STRAIGHT?!” and Kara and Winn start laughing with him because guess what? The fanfic writers were right once again, Winn was in love with Mon-El, and then Winn walks up and kisses him and Kara says “MON-EL HOW COULD YOU KEEP THIS FROM ME?!” because not once in the past month had Mon-El mentioned that he had finally made a move. Then Winn says “actually I did” and Kara says “SON OF A BITCH, now I owe Alex a month paperwork duty!”

Then they all have Game Night and it’s a fuckkng Gay Time.

[most-angels-are-dicks-blog]

The Mercenary

This was written by Jonah B., he is an intelligent man and you can find him @co2ultraspider he is absolutely great.

Allan Grant: Episode Two Code: Scrap Outskirts of Town (Outside Wall) 0428 I stood waiting with my green sea bag on my back and my double barrel pistol on my side. The mission was simple enough, go two towns over and provide security while another group stole the food from the food pantry. It would be easy enough if I wasn’t working fucking god damn rookies, to my knowledge it was just some lackeys from Vincent’s gang. The sun would be rising soon…I hoped the other people would show up soon or I’d just go on my own. “Hey mercenary!” came a familiar voice. I turned seeing Bryan Ramirez, a rival mercenary. Well to be honest most mercenaries were rivals, we were all trying to complete jobs to survive. Bryan wore a torn dark blue camo hoodie with navy fatigue pants, he had a black sling pack on and held a Mk-45 in his left hand. His dark red hair was tied up, but it looked still messy…he’d been in a fight recently. I looked down at his boots seeing there was specs of dry blood, it could’ve been from a while ago but given his history with Vincent something told me there was more to the story. “Hey Bryan,” I said looking back up at him, “didn’t think Vincent would hire you for something like this.” “Yeah well,” he said with a shrug, “I can be quite the convincing guy. He told me get this job done and we’d call things square.” “And you wanna square things up with him?” I asked watching his expression. He glared at me, I kept an eye on his trigger finger. “Look you wanna get this job done or do you wanna play twenty-one questions!” he yelled pushing past me. There was no point in continuing messing with him, though I did have a feeling he was lying about Vincent. “How’re we getting to Trenton?” he asked. “Had Nico equip the Sandhawk with some extra support and armor for the mission,” I said taking out the keys, “But since you and I are going I don’t think we’ll need it that much. We’ll be going inside on foot, I don’t want another accident with this jeep. Nico gets real pissed about that stuff.” Bryan rolled his eyes chuckling. “Let’s just head to the job.” He said. “Right, are you on the food pantry team?” I asked. Bryan paused, he didn’t know about the two teams. “Yeah,” he said, “I um…I’m helping with that.” Yeah he was for sure lying. Two powerful mercenaries on the same team, seemed a bit overkill. But I didn’t have anymore time for this, we needed to just get this job done, and it wouldn’t matter so long as I got paid. “Come on Bryan.” I said shaking my head as I headed towards the Sandhawk, “you know the drill.” Trenton Town (Wall Outside) 0514 We drove up to the side entrance wall stopping before we’d get in sight of the sentry. The sun was gonna rise in just around forty minutes to an hour, there’d be no room for error…or Bryan’s famous killing sprees. “Hey Allan,” Bryan said as he got out of the passenger seat, “Why don’t you do your little ability thing as see how guards we’re dealing with while I cover the Sandhawk up.” Psh, like I needed him telling me how to mercenary. I looked over at the wall as my eyes went x ray mode. Right, I guess I didn’t mention it but most mercenaries like me and Bryan had amazing abilities. For me my eyes could go night vision, x ray vision, heat vision, and tracking. Bryan could control weapons, like make them appear so…he was a walking weapons rack. “Got two guards on lookout near center of town and maybe…ten guys just around town with some big looking guns.” I said as my vision returned to normal, “should be a pretty easy fight if we do this right. We keep this quiet and quick and maybe we can avoid a town hating us in the future.” “You watch yourself Allan,” he said as he pushed past me, “I can handle myself.” So much for using teamwork… Trenton Town (Inside) 0520 As I climbed over the wall, I was able to actually see the town for what it was. Trenton was a dump…the buildings were boarded up and people looked sickly as hell. What was the point of robbing a place like this? They had nothing. I did another quick scan before I ran down the street, I spotted a figure standing on a rooftop. He wore a sleeveless jean jacket and dusty blue jeans, from the looks of him he was a mercenary. “Hey buddy,” I said as I stopped in my tracks, “You ain’t gonna wanna do this. Why don’t you just go back where you came from.” He smiled as his skin turned pale white as he grew fangs and sprouted wings, his body looking more deformed. “Ugh…gross!” I cried reaching for my gun, “Do we really have to do this?!” He screeched as he swooped down at me trying to get a swipe at me with his claws. He was fast but I’d had plenty of training against people like him, people who like to overdose on powercore energy to get stronger. Me being a test tube experiment, I didn’t have much of a choice but lately these mercenaries were getting desperate. I couldn’t shoot this guy, I was supposed to be doing this with stealth. I’d need to get this guy grounded and knock him out. I quickly scanned his body searching out his weak spots as he dove past me. I quickly grabbed on to his neck pulling him backwards, he jerked forward sending me flying into the dirt. I put my gun away taking out my knife as he charged at me again. He ran into me at full force sending me back a bit, I caught my balance as I stabbed him behind his ear. He screeched again as I tossed him into the dirt, stabbing him in the side. He changed back to normal as he struggled to get up. “Fuck…” he groaned as I walked over to him, “I-I’m not done ye-yet.” “Hey man,” I said as I kneeled down, “I gave you a chance to walk away.” I quickly got him in a chokehold, choking him out. He put up a bit of a fight but even a blind man could see the fight was over. I dropped him on the ground, as I got up dusting myself off. He might’ve actually have been a threat had he known what he was doing. No time to waste though, it’d be sunrise soon. I took off down the street running for the tower in the center of town. No doubt Bryan had beaten me. When I reached the tower I found two duffle bags outside of the tower, full of guns and medical supplies. Bryan was no where in sight, and also it seemed he’d done a number on the guards around the tower as well. “Good you finally decided to show up.” Came Bryan’s voice. I turned seeing him walking out with two more bags. “Vincent didn’t tell us to rob the place clean,” I said folding my arms, “there’s no reason to overdo it. This town is already suffering.” “Yeah well so are some of us,” he said pushing past me, “you can either help me or you can stand aside. I already stole a van from these fucks.” He was never very good at hiding lies, then again he also wasn’t much of a brains. “You sure Vincent will pay extra for this?” I asked as I picked up two duffle bags. “Man fuck Vincent,” he snarled, “fucking prick. What has he ever done to help us out? He’s just a piece of shit thug.” “He’s also our employer.” I said “One of them!” Bryan yelled dropping the duffle bags, “I’m not doing this for him Allan. Help me out or be taken down.” As mercenaries it wasn’t uncommon for Bryan and I to often bump heads, but I could tell that he was dead serious about this. But now really wasn’t the time for this, if we spent anymore time we’d end up getting caught and the stealth mission would be ruined. “Relax Bryan,” I said calmly, “You’re right, okay? Is that what you want to hear? We really don’t have time for this crap man.” “I’m not letting you in the van,” he said not looking at me, “Sorry man.” I dropped the duffle bags, balling up my fists. Goddamn it Bryan! We didn’t have time for his childish behavior. I feel it should go without saying but Bryan’s stupidity ended up getting us surrounded by guards. “Hands up thieves!” came a man’s voice. We both turned seeing four guards standing in armor, holding guns at the ready. Fuck We were pushed out in the open where another squad of soldiers stood with guns drawn, for a total of eight guards. I quickly turned on my x ray vision scanning around to look for any other guards. Two snipers were up on a tower not too far away looking in our direction bringing the total up to ten guards. Not to mention there was probably their actual army force on standby, gearing up currently for a total of possibly thirty to forty guards. I looked over at Bryan mouthing the number to him, he nodded understanding. “Scan em,” said one of the guards standing back behind us, “you know how these mercenary types are.” I sighed as I felt the cold metal of the scanner jabbing me in the neck, it beeped loudly. “Sh-shit…” the guard said quickly stepping back, “they’re one of them! Freaks!” They all raised their weapons, taking aim. “That’s a bit rude,” I said shaking my head, “You didn’t even scan my buddy.” Bryan chuckled as he stuck out his hands, the guns being yanked out of the soldier’s hands. “We don’t have time for your games,” he said as the guns crumpled into nothingness, “believe me I’d love to kill you all but I’m just trying to leave.” People, normal innocent people, began to leave their homes to see what all the noise was about. This situation could be getting out of hand, but I doubted Bryan was going to leave without his duffle bags. I took out my pistol keeping people at bay, as Bryan and I began taking steps back towards the van. “Grab the bags Allan,” he whispered as he summoned an M4, “I can keep watch of these people.” I picked up the duffle bags tossing them in the back of the van, we needed to leave. Bang! The fuck…please tell me he didn’t. I ran around the van seeing a man, middle aged bleeding out with Bryan standing over him. “What the fuck Bry?!” I yelled pushing him, “You said you’d watch them!” “He came at me,” he said with a shrug, “let’s just go man.” He walked past me, getting into the van, closing the door. I didn’t want to leave this place like this though…but I didn’t have much of a choice. A job was a job, part of being a mercenary was having people not like you. It was something that I was willing to accept. Dessert 0558 “You shouldn’t have killed that man.” I said breaking the silence as we drove, “he was just trying to protect his family.” Bryan sat in the back, laying down with his face in the cushion. “Look I didn’t want to do it,” he mumbled, “the guy fucking ran at me. It was my reflexes.” Like I’d said, he and I disagreed quite a lot but one of the biggest problems I had with him was his lack of remorse for killing innocent people. We weren’t in any danger, those people had nothing without their guns. Hell even if they’d made a bomb we’d be injured but not dead! “I’m pretty drained from all that crap,” he said closing his eyes, “Mind if we take a break before you turn in whatever you have?” We’d made pretty good time, despite Bryan being a fuck boy at the last second. I guessed we could make a quick stop. The closest town happened to be Scrap City, where Nico and Barry worked. Be a great time to see if I could get an upgrade. “Sure,” I said looking in the rearview mirror, “We’re going to Scrap City.” “Ah…going to go see your boyfriend.” Bryan laughed from the backseat. So immature. “Yes,” I said rolling my eyes, “I haven’t seen Nico in a bit of a while as well.” Yes, Nico was my boyfriend and my mechanic. He was really good when it came to electronics and weapon upgrades. I sped up, speeding through the dessert. To Be Continued….

[co2ultraspider]

Allan Grant

Allan Grant: Episode Two

         Code: Scrap

 Outskirts of Town (Outside Wall)                                                                    0428

            I stood waiting with my green sea bag on my back and my double barrel pistol on my side. The mission was simple enough, go two towns over and provide security while another group stole the food from the food pantry. It would be easy enough if I wasn’t working fucking god damn rookies, to my knowledge it was just some lackeys from Vincent’s gang. The sun would be rising soon…I hoped the other people would show up soon or I’d just go on my own.

         “Hey mercenary!” came a familiar voice. I turned seeing Bryan Ramirez, a rival mercenary. Well to be honest most mercenaries were rivals, we were all trying to complete jobs to survive. Bryan wore a torn dark blue camo hoodie with navy fatigue pants, he had a black sling pack on and held a Mk-45 in his left hand. His dark red hair was tied up, but it looked still messy…he’d been in a fight recently. I looked down at his boots seeing there was specs of dry blood, it could’ve been from a while ago but given his history with Vincent something told me there was more to the story.

         “Hey Bryan,” I said looking back up at him, “didn’t think Vincent would hire you for something like this.”

         “Yeah well,” he said with a shrug, “I can be quite the convincing guy. He told me get this job done and we’d call things square.”

         “And you wanna square things up with him?” I asked watching his expression. He glared at me, I kept an eye on his trigger finger.

         “Look you wanna get this job done or do you wanna play twenty-one questions!” he yelled pushing past me. There was no point in continuing messing with him, though I did have a feeling he was lying about Vincent. “How’re we getting to Trenton?” he asked.

         “Had Nico equip the Sandhawk with some extra support and armor for the mission,” I said taking out the keys, “But since you and I are going I don’t think we’ll need it that much. We’ll be going inside on foot, I don’t want another accident with this jeep. Nico gets real pissed about that stuff.” Bryan rolled his eyes chuckling.

         “Let’s just head to the job.” He said.

         “Right, are you on the food pantry team?” I asked. Bryan paused, he didn’t know about the two teams.

         “Yeah,” he said, “I um…I’m helping with that.” Yeah he was for sure lying. Two powerful mercenaries on the same team, seemed a bit overkill. But I didn’t have anymore time for this, we needed to just get this job done, and it wouldn’t matter so long as I got paid.

         “Come on Bryan.” I said shaking my head as I headed towards the Sandhawk, “you know the drill.”

 Trenton Town (Wall Outside)                                                                          0514

           We drove up to the side entrance wall stopping before we’d get in sight of the sentry. The sun was gonna rise in just around forty minutes to an hour, there’d be no room for error…or Bryan’s famous killing sprees.

         “Hey Allan,” Bryan said as he got out of the passenger seat, “Why don’t you do your little ability thing as see how guards we’re dealing with while I cover the Sandhawk up.” Psh, like I needed him telling me how to mercenary. I looked over at the wall as my eyes went x ray mode. Right, I guess I didn’t mention it but most mercenaries like me and Bryan had amazing abilities. For me my eyes could go night vision, x ray vision, heat vision, and tracking. Bryan could control weapons, like make them appear so…he was a walking weapons rack.

         “Got two guards on lookout near center of town and maybe…ten guys just around town with some big looking guns.” I said as my vision returned to normal, “should be a pretty easy fight if we do this right. We keep this quiet and quick and maybe we can avoid a town hating us in the future.”

         “You watch yourself Allan,” he said as he pushed past me, “I can handle myself.” So much for using teamwork…

 Trenton Town (Inside)                                                                                   0520

           As I climbed over the wall, I was able to actually see the town for what it was. Trenton was a dump...the buildings were boarded up and people looked sickly as hell. What was the point of robbing a place like this? They had nothing. I did another quick scan before I ran down the street, I spotted a figure standing on a rooftop. He wore a sleeveless jean jacket and dusty blue jeans, from the looks of him he was a mercenary.

         “Hey buddy,” I said as I stopped in my tracks, “You ain’t gonna wanna do this. Why don’t you just go back where you came from.” He smiled as his skin turned pale white as he grew fangs and sprouted wings, his body looking more deformed. “Ugh…gross!” I cried reaching for my gun, “Do we really have to do this?!” He screeched as he swooped down at me trying to get a swipe at me with his claws. He was fast but I’d had plenty of training against people like him, people who like to overdose on powercore energy to get stronger. Me being a test tube experiment, I didn’t have much of a choice but lately these mercenaries were getting desperate. I couldn’t shoot this guy, I was supposed to be doing this with stealth. I’d need to get this guy grounded and knock him out. I quickly scanned his body searching out his weak spots as he dove past me. I quickly grabbed on to his neck pulling him backwards, he jerked forward sending me flying into the dirt. I put my gun away taking out my knife as he charged at me again. He ran into me at full force sending me back a bit, I caught my balance as I stabbed him behind his ear. He screeched again as I tossed him into the dirt, stabbing him in the side. He changed back to normal as he struggled to get up.

         “Fuck…” he groaned as I walked over to him, “I-I’m not done ye-yet.”

         “Hey man,” I said as I kneeled down, “I gave you a chance to walk away.” I quickly got him in a chokehold, choking him out. He put up a bit of a fight but even a blind man could see the fight was over. I dropped him on the ground, as I got up dusting myself off. He might’ve actually have been a threat had he known what he was doing. No time to waste though, it’d be sunrise soon. I took off down the street running for the tower in the center of town. No doubt Bryan had beaten me.

           When I reached the tower I found two duffle bags outside of the tower, full of guns and medical supplies. Bryan was no where in sight, and also it seemed he’d done a number on the guards around the tower as well.

         “Good you finally decided to show up.” Came Bryan’s voice. I turned seeing him walking out with two more bags.

         “Vincent didn’t tell us to rob the place clean,” I said folding my arms, “there’s no reason to overdo it. This town is already suffering.”

         “Yeah well so are some of us,” he said pushing past me, “you can either help me or you can stand aside. I already stole a van from these fucks.” He was never very good at hiding lies, then again he also wasn’t much of a brains.

         “You sure Vincent will pay extra for this?” I asked as I picked up two duffle bags.

         “Man fuck Vincent,” he snarled, “fucking prick. What has he ever done to help us out? He’s just a piece of shit thug.”

         “He’s also our employer.” I said

         “One of them!” Bryan yelled dropping the duffle bags, “I’m not doing this for him Allan. Help me out or be taken down.” As mercenaries it wasn’t uncommon for Bryan and I to often bump heads, but I could tell that he was dead serious about this. But now really wasn’t the time for this, if we spent anymore time we’d end up getting caught and the stealth mission would be ruined.

         “Relax Bryan,” I said calmly, “You’re right, okay? Is that what you want to hear? We really don’t have time for this crap man.”

         “I’m not letting you in the van,” he said not looking at me, “Sorry man.” I dropped the duffle bags, balling up my fists. Goddamn it Bryan! We didn’t have time for his childish behavior. I feel it should go without saying but Bryan’s stupidity ended up getting us surrounded by guards.

         “Hands up thieves!” came a man’s voice. We both turned seeing four guards standing in armor, holding guns at the ready. Fuck

           We were pushed out in the open where another squad of soldiers stood with guns drawn, for a total of eight guards. I quickly turned on my x ray vision scanning around to look for any other guards. Two snipers were up on a tower not too far away looking in our direction bringing the total up to ten guards. Not to mention there was probably their actual army force on standby, gearing up currently for a total of possibly thirty to forty guards. I looked over at Bryan mouthing the number to him, he nodded understanding.

         “Scan em,” said one of the guards standing back behind us, “you know how these mercenary types are.” I sighed as I felt the cold metal of the scanner jabbing me in the neck, it beeped loudly.

         “Sh-shit…” the guard said quickly stepping back, “they’re one of them! Freaks!” They all raised their weapons, taking aim.

         “That’s a bit rude,” I said shaking my head, “You didn’t even scan my buddy.” Bryan chuckled as he stuck out his hands, the guns being yanked out of the soldier’s hands.

         “We don’t have time for your games,” he said as the guns crumpled into nothingness, “believe me I’d love to kill you all but I’m just trying to leave.” People, normal innocent people, began to leave their homes to see what all the noise was about. This situation could be getting out of hand, but I doubted Bryan was going to leave without his duffle bags. I took out my pistol keeping people at bay, as Bryan and I began taking steps back towards the van. “Grab the bags Allan,” he whispered as he summoned an M4, “I can keep watch of these people.” I picked up the duffle bags tossing them in the back of the van, we needed to leave. Bang! The fuck…please tell me he didn’t. I ran around the van seeing a man, middle aged bleeding out with Bryan standing over him.

         “What the fuck Bry?!” I yelled pushing him, “You said you’d watch them!”

         “He came at me,” he said with a shrug, “let’s just go man.” He walked past me, getting into the van, closing the door. I didn’t want to leave this place like this though…but I didn’t have much of a choice. A job was a job, part of being a mercenary was having people not like you. It was something that I was willing to accept.

 Dessert                                                                                                        0558

         “You shouldn’t have killed that man.” I said breaking the silence as we drove, “he was just trying to protect his family.” Bryan sat in the back, laying down with his face in the cushion.

         “Look I didn’t want to do it,” he mumbled, “the guy fucking ran at me. It was my reflexes.” Like I’d said, he and I disagreed quite a lot but one of the biggest problems I had with him was his lack of remorse for killing innocent people. We weren’t in any danger, those people had nothing without their guns. Hell even if they’d made a bomb we’d be injured but not dead! “I’m pretty drained from all that crap,” he said closing his eyes, “Mind if we take a break before you turn in whatever you have?” We’d made pretty good time, despite Bryan being a fuck boy at the last second. I guessed we could make a quick stop. The closest town happened to be Scrap City, where Nico and Barry worked. Be a great time to see if I could get an upgrade.

         “Sure,” I said looking in the rearview mirror, “We’re going to Scrap City.”

         “Ah…going to go see your boyfriend.” Bryan laughed from the backseat. So immature.

         “Yes,” I said rolling my eyes, “I haven’t seen Nico in a bit of a while as well.” Yes, Nico was my boyfriend and my mechanic. He was really good when it came to electronics and weapon upgrades. I sped up, speeding through the dessert.

To Be Continued….

[geminnas]

POWER RANGERS SPOILERS

massive spoilers below. a list of the things that i loved about the movie. kind of long post

IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER LET’S GO

- flashback scene:  zordon just helplessly watching the yellow ranger die

- “seek those who are worthy”

-“we could have ruled together!” “that was never going to happen.” “so be it. you’ll die.” “we’ll die together, rita.”

-tHE COW’S MALE FUCKERS

-jason has abysmal driving skills

-”like you said. never going to understand each other.”

- “beefy and i have a connection.”

-kIMBERLY MY QUEEN

-she just walked right past jason

-detention guys calling jason out “you sure you’re in the right class, scott?”

-bILLY BILLY BILLY

-‘‘did you just slap me?” “i did. weird, right?”

-jASON SCOTT SASS MASTER

-kimberly “i need to go to the ladies room” hart

-they cut her out of the photo right there and sTUCK IT TO THE WALL WITH SCISSORS WHAT THE FUCK

-kim coming back from the restroom with her hair cut like a bamf

-the look jason gives her

-billy asking jason to come hang out

- “billy crams-a-ton”

-jason freaking tf out abt his ankle monitor and billy just calm af

-jason hugging billy and billy going “don’t touch me”

- autistic people rule

-aND HERE WE HAVE ZACK THE COOLEST ASS BAMF YOU WILL EVER SEE

-on the roof. a fire on the ground. observing trini through binoculars. calling her “crazy girl”

-jason freaking out when kimberly dives and doesn’t emerge

-the entire van conversation between kim and jason

-”dad, i’ll make you proud”

-the explosion

-zack, billy, kim and jason just standing there like “shit what did u do”

-tRINI

-“hey, this is a restricted area! you shouldn’t be here!” “oh yeah, einstein? we shouldn’t be blowing things up either, now should we?”

- how the fuck did you think her name was deedee

-then trini calls him something like “trailer park boy”

-the entire cliffside just collapsing

-zack immediately taking the pickaxe and hacking the coins out of the ice “how much do you think this is worth?” like i feel him hes struggling with money???

-the way he says “security” like he knows it all too well and probably curses under his breath

-billy and jason getting into the car “wait what about the others”

-alternatively “where’s the other guy?” pause. “JUST GO”

-all shrieking when zack lands on top of the car and sticks his head upside down

-”are you crazy?” “yeah, i am.”

-*billy drives towards train* jason: you’re gonna make it! zack: yeah, dude, we’re gonna make it! trini: i don’t know if he’s gonna make it! kim: he’s not gonna make it!

-kIM CRUSHING HER PHONE

- “im just going to quietly snap your wrist, you little bitch” like fuck off asshole

- wrist turns out to be unsnappable

- “billy cranston just knocked [bully’s name] out cold! holy shit, cranston!”

- billy holding court to his many admirers

- “billy is awesome”

- the mean girls literally get sprayed with soda or shit

-zACK AND HIS MOM??? SPEAK MANDARIN?? LITERALLY BETTER THAN MY MANDARIN?? THEYRE SO PURE??? HE IS THE BEST OK??? DESERVES SO MUCH LOVE??? MY SMOL SON????

- three of them seeing zack “your name’s zack, right?” “yeah”

- “you still go to angel grove?” laughing. “sometimes!”

- trini scrambling up the cliffside like spider man

- “try to keep up”

- tRINI JUST JUMPING ACROSS THE CLIFF

- “girl, you’re crazy! but so am i!”

- *holds her ankle* “ive got her” *kicks zack off* “don’t touch me”

- “tHAT IS NOT A PIECE OF CAKE”

- dancing and then toppling backwards

- “did we just kill the dude?”

- zack jumping off with absolutely no hesitation whatever

- “sorry for what?” “this.”

- black and blue joke

- trini falls on top of zack. zack: “hi” trini: “aGAIN”

- “holy sh-” “sHHH”

- “we’re gonna be famous”

- “any questions?” “nope. nope, i’m good.”

- the pit

- “it’s just a hologram, like a video game” nuh uh

- scratching lines into the wall for every day

- trini getting zack in a chokehold qUEEN

- triNI AND KIM AT KRISPY KREME

- “come on zack, let’s go.” “yeah. let’s go.” that camera angle is perfect you can literally see his damn smile and the way his eyes shine

- dAT FACE THO

- jason and zack punching each other in the face

- tbh they have a lot of wasted “bro” potential

- billy trying to separate them and then morphing

- SCREW YOUR AGENDA ZORDON

- the campfire scene i cried no joke

- doing impressions of zordon

- “MY MOM IS THE BEST”

- not afraid to admit that he’s scared, and that he loves his mom

- trini and zack form the beanie squad

- “boyfriend problems?” “yeah, boyfriend problems.” “...girlfriend problems?”

- “are we friends, or are we power rangers?”

- rita and trini

- “i killed yellow once.”

- “deedee my friend”

keeping it brief bc its getting way too long

- rita is terrifying. literally. no joke.

- g o l d

- “you did an awful thing. doesn’t make you an awful person.”

- tHEY DIDN’T KISS I’M SO HAPPY

- trini “rita visited me” kwan

- you can legit see everyone thinking “im going to kill rita”

- the way each of them raise their hands

- “eeny, meeny, miny, moe... blue”

- “you can tell me now, or you can tell me after i kill all your friends. let’s start with black.”

- zack shakes his head

- ‘krispy kreme. it’s at krispy kreme.”

- i LITERALLY THOUGHT BILLY WAS GOING TO COME BACK TO LIFE LIKE CHOKING UP THE WATER BUT HE DIDN’T OH MY GOD

- you can see how each one of them deals with grief

- they carry him all the way back

- all of them agreeing that they’d give their lives for his

- “only one can return”

- jason hugging billy like he’ll never let go

- tHEY MORPHED

- their fighting tho

- zack jumping off the cliff still fighting a putty in order to get his zord

-the way all the gold cuts through the ground to make goldar

- “that’s a lot of gold.”

- everyone in their zords

- go go power rangers playing as they run into battle goddamn

- “how cute. the rangers found their costumes and their dino cars.”

- kim saving jason’s ass

- “sorry bumblebee!” i DIED

- trini jumping right on top of goldar

- “THAT’S NOT KRISPY KREME! FIND KRISPY KREME!”

- *dropping billy on top of goldar*

- “is it over?” heartbreakingly hopeful

- “she’s back.”

- “hold the line!”

- trini screaming down the channel “zack, stay with me!”

- “no one dies alone.”

- then they disappear in fire.

- and rise again.

- rita merging herself with goldar and they’re all too confused to do anything

- “i got the leg!” “oh, you got the leg too? hi five!”

- “oh, i wish i could punch!” *kicks goldar*

- “remember the pit?” “oh, i hated the pit.”

- trini “bring it on” kwan

- “kim! swords!”

- “duck, grab, lift!” 

- “whatever zordon says, i know i am worthy!”

- getting bitch slapped into space

- “did you just slap her?” “i did. weird, right?”

- “told you we were gonna be famous”

- making the megazord dance

- “what about yellow?” “yeah, yellow! he’s cool too!” “how do you know it’s a he?”

-kim pasting that photo of all of them laughing that pic is pure ok look at them

- zack playing chess with his mom “帅吗？” literally asking whether they were handsome and his mom checkmates him then hi fives him god i love them

- “deedee!” “mom, it’s trini!”

- trini and zack show up at angel grove for possibly the first time

-zack sitting on a backward facing chair

-flicking papers at each other

- iTS A LIGHTNING BOLT SHADED WITH THEIR COLOURS

- i love them all.

-tOMMY OLIVER

- ships: jason/kim, jason/billy, zack w everyone, my hetero ass ships trini and zack but my gay ass ships kim and trini

summary: this movie is possibly the best thing to happen to me. amazing. i love it and my children. go watch it. it will bless your soul.

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

Game #8: The Pretender

Hard open. Mike McGuire stared intensely at the camera, background obscured. Their emerald gaze was unwavering, a frigid glare. This image held in silence a moment before their lips twitched a couple times, followed by a snort issuing from their nose. The edges of the eyes crinkled a bit and the lips pursed inward, cheeks puffing slightly as if trying to hold something inward. And then it happened. “BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The camera pulled back a bit to reveal the full extent of McGuire’s laughter- they went from holding their sides to smacking their knee, taking a few gasping breaths to try, against all odds, to regain some form of composure. “Aw, fuck. Aw, s-shit, I’m sorry, I just… you’re gonna… you’re gonna take me out back and…” More laughter. Almost as if this very notion was the most hilarious thing they’d ever heard in their entire life. “...s-shoot me like Old Yeller! Oh my fuckin’ god I’m gonna pee. Okay. Okay. Shit.” A few more inhales and exhales. In through the mouth, out through the nose. The Bronx Brawler’s surroundings appeared to be her and her partner’s hotel room in Cusco, and Mike themself is currently clad in hiking gear- sturdy boots, cargo shorts, a black tank with the baseball-sugar skull and bat-crossbones logo of Los Veleros de Columbus, and, of course, their Mets cap. They sat on the end of the bed, bouncing a bit. “Me and Church are about to go hike up to Machu Picchu. I was thinking of responding to whatever you planned on saying on the way up. You know, about how you were gonna be a tough mountain to climb or whatever ridiculous bullshit. Make the most of the surroundings to make a fuckin’ point. Then I wondered why the holy blue fuck I would want to waste even a few minutes of a life-changing experience like this talking about you. Oh, and then I saw what you actually put together. Girl. I can’t. I have lost all fuckin’ ability to can. Did you seriously fuckin’... okay.” Reaching behind them, Mike retrieved their laptop, cracking it open. “I don’t know if you know this is what you fuckin’ sounded like, and I ain’t no goddamn’ computer artist, but I had to make some kind of visual aid. ...Where the fuck did I.. ah. Here we go.” Spinning the laptop around, the viewing audience was treated to a rather hideous image that, frankly, could’ve been put together better by a middle school student. “Onions have layers. Dakota Jennings has layers. And as you can see, ogres have layers, so the best I could put together that you were tryin’ to fuckin’ tell me was that you, Jennings, are a fuckin’ ogre. Which makes a whole lotta fuckin’ sense, to be honest- I mean, you’re ill tempered, not overly fuckin’ bright,  and have the kind of fuckin’ attitude that points to you bein’ born and raised in a goddamn swamp. But, y’know, maybe I don’t have much room to talk on those points. So let’s get serious.” The laptop is snapped shut and tossed on the bed behind them, their hands folding on their lap, the intense expression from before finding its way back onto their face. “I really do find your threats cute. You’re gonna take me out back and shoot me. You’re gonna make me cry my eyes out. Do you think I ain’t heard that shit before? I can’t count how many others have tried the same lines on me. I ain’t scared. I ain’t fucking intimidated. After all the punishment I’ve taken over the course of my career? I don’t sweat anything anybody has to dish out. So all your fuckin’ yapping is just the angry barks of a pissed off Pomeranian to me.” Mike waved a hand, scoffing. “You’re also making a big deal pointing out just how wrong my assumptions are. How, ‘no! I was only pretending to be a fuckin’ twit! I really am fuckin’ awesome when I don’t have a chair handy! Behold my… two whole fuckin’ video clips illustrating this fact! I was in MMA! I have a chokehold!’ Great. Wonderful. You keep running your mouth and showing me home movies and I’ll continue to not fucking believe you till I see it myself, mano e womano. If you really needed to use a chair at Rite of Kings just to put me down, cuz you couldn’t get the job done otherwise? Woman, you just admitted with your own damn mouth that on an even playing field, I am better than you. And if that really ain’t the case? And you haven’t needed to stoop to the tactics you’re known for at all, cuz you really are an awesome wrestler, really, honest? Then Jennings, that just means you’re fuckin’ lazy.” They sat up straight. “I stand by what I said. And it counts double now that you’ve gone and made such a big honkin’ deal about it. If you make a fucking hypocrite out of yourself, I am not gonna be a happy goddamn camper. And my threats? They ain’t cute. I ain’t no little ginger Pomeranian, I’m a goddamn junkyard Rottweiler with giant fuckin’ balls. I will rip your fuckin’ windpipe right out of your neck if you try to screw me. But hey, you’re not gonna have to worry about that, right? You’ve shown me what a straight shooter you are. And you’re nothing if not trustworthy, Jennings.” They got up, and looked down into the camera, their expression utterly wicked. “Least, for your sake, I hope that’s the case. See you real soon.” Click to black. Several hours later, NSFW were well on their way. Mike had a large hiking pack, complete with packed-up bedroll, tucked on their back, and John had likewise. It would take all of their ‘vacation’ time to make it to the ancient Incan citadel and back, but in Mike’s mind, at least, it would be worth it- the hike would serve as a good extended workout, and besides, this was a once in a lifetime experience. Every international destination they visited promised something like this- one of the best perks of their job was the opportunity to see the worlds’ greatest and most breathtaking landmarks. So far, the hike along the Lares Trail was amazing even in its early legs. The ground they walked was a well-trodden dirt pathway, and the sky was as clear and blue as Mike had ever seen. A small herd of llamas, likely property of a nearby Andean village, grazed on the low grass. Eyes wide, Mike turned to their partner. “Incredible, ain’t it?” John didn’t say anything, he looked about - absorbing his surroundings. There was a faint smile on his face that may tell Mike just what he thought. Mike quickened their pace just slightly, allowing themself to walk at his side, keeping pace just a ways behind their guide and the same ways behind the pair of donkeys that served as pack beasts. Their hand slipped into his easily. It was refreshing to do so- even if there were only a few others around, minus the residents of the village, it was still a more public display of affection than they usually displayed. They didn’t have to hide. They were as a rightful part of the world as the ancient city they were heading toward, as the little villages they passed through where the Andes people had lived in the same way for thousands of years. “...we belong here.” It was part of their thoughts escaping aloud- just loud enough, however, for John to hear it. The guide motioned that they’d be stopping for a break, and Mike took a seat on a nearby rock wall that was probably ten times their age. John sat beside them. “Makes one envious even,” John’s voice was just above audible, “I’m good with coming back. But I meant it. And while I feel invigorated... one day we need to step away. Satisfied with what we’ve accomplished. Because there is always more that we could do. Always more.” “I know.” They always did. They always knew this story, or at least this version of this story, would end one day. Where they’d reach the last page of the book called ‘NSFW’ and put it up on the shelf so they could start writing the book called ‘John and Mike’. “I still wanna do this though, when we can. I never wanna stop seeing things like this. Experiencing the fuckin’ world. I know we probably won’t be able to travel’s easy or often as we do now, cuz we got the perk of not having to pay for airfare an’ shit, but… yeah. Promise me we can still do this?” “I like doing what you like,” he paused. He knew that was something that stuck in Mike’s craw lately. His mind clicked and whirred as it struggled to clarify his stance, “I like it, too.”   “I’m glad. … Holy shit, check that out!” Mike pointed upward. Soaring over their heads was a magnificent bird. Even from high up, Mike could tell that it was enormous- the biggest bird they’d ever seen in their life. Their hand gripped onto John’s super tight. “...he reminds me of you. Huge and regal as fuck. I bet he could swoop down and carry off a whole fuckin’ llama but he doesn’t. He just wants to fly where he wants and be awesome on his own terms.” “He seems nice.” There was a pause. And then Mike laughed. Not the harsh, mocking laughter they’d recorded that morning, but something far sweeter. Fonder. They cracked a couple of energy bars out of their pack and opened up their canteen, handing John one and going back to watching the bird- an Andean Condor, though they didn’t know that- circle majestically around the valley. “Yup. He sure does.”

[theliterateape]

Fifty Three Years and A Shot

by Don Hall

In the annual tradition of penning a list of things I learned in the year, year 53 has been a doozy. 

I’m sitting here, in my friend’s house, my computer set up in a corner of the dining room, ruminating. I’m here because Dana and I are buying a house with my friend — the combined buying power facilitating better digs and an easier transition out of the solid cement encasing my lower torso with “Chicago” etched in the side. Moved out of our Wicker Park apartment of four years in December and living the life of a couch crasher since then, life has been a few months of all anticipation and planning to get outta here and into the desert while finding small ways to make our exit meaningful.

There’s a part of me that feels I almost always stay at least one year longer than I should — my two failed marriages, my teaching career, the theater, public radio — all could’ve been cut short by twelve months and I’d likely have been better off. Perhaps I can say the same about staying the full thirty years in Chicago rather than twenty-nine. Dana and I started talk of leaving the city this time a year ago and, while it has been a more prudent and pragmatic path to that end, there will always be a nagging voice that barks at me that we should’ve just hopped the highway and skeedaddled then.

Ah, but being an adult about things has both it’s upsides and downsides, yes?

I’m no longer the kid who packed up a truck with everything he owned and lit out north in search of a landing pad. I’m fifty-fucking-three years old. In the parlance of our youth-obsessed culture, I’m on the decline of that mythic hill. I’m now referred in print as “older” as in “Older Workers Find It Difficult to Maintain a Consistent Lifestyle” or “Older Americans Don’t Understand Why the New Progressives Are So Angry.” No one hires a fifty-three year old because of his new ideas but because of his experience and banking on experience only profits he who has learned from life.

In that vein, let’s take a look at the lessons my fifty-third year on this twirling piece of gravel garnered:

LESSON #5

95% of Personal Grievance Is a Waste of Time

That’s scientific because it has a percentage attached to it so know it’s true. 

While I can’t regret the time in my life wasted with bullshit squabbles over reputation or status I can attest to the fact that the online fight you’re having right now is a waste of the simple magnetic activity of your heart pumping blood and oxygen into your parts. The fury of injustice as you rail against that colleague who has maligned you, that existential angst you feel over that betrayal at a now long gone workplace, that ennui permeating your vision caused by that sudden creeping realization that your existence isn’t terribly important is wasted time.

Recognize it, register it, and get the fuck over it as quickly as you can. Yeah, the language of masculinity is not received well these days but the truth is the truth whether it’s popular or not. Sack up and get going or waste away like Sylvia Plath and her oven.

LESSON #4

The Worst Thing You Can Do To A Child Is Convince Them That They Are Special

One in roughly seven billion ain’t great odds for standing out much. The myth surrounding the specialness of every creature is negated daily. People are in great supply so the demand for individual greatness is minimized. In the anthropomorphized Pixar-world, that chicken with a dream is far more likely to be ground into the filling for your Taco Bell Chicken Gordita than lead the revolt. 

This is not to say that we each shouldn’t keep trying to be the president despite the fact that the odds of any one of us actually becoming president is so slim as to be sadly funny, like Tom Hanks in Punchline. The mythology of specialness creates a sense of entitlement and no matter what anyone tells you, you aren’t entitled to fucking anything. Your child isn’t entitled to anything. No demand for respect or empathy or justice will change that. Don’t believe me? Ask any of the hundreds killed by assholes with a death wish and visions of posthumous glory who went out, stocked up on guns and shot up a public place. Can you name any three of them? No. But they are all special, right? Wrong.

Teach your child that he is lovable and he will earn to love. Teach your child she is capable and she will achieve. Teach your child they are special in a world of seven billion grunting, rutting, scrambling apes and you’ve set them up for failure.

LESSON #3

Your Emotions Are Like a Dog So Train Them Not to Shit Under the Sofa

A dog that destroys the house, gets into the garbage and strews it all over the place and routinely bites others rarely has an owner with their shit together. Your emotions are that dog. Get your shit together, be an adult, train your dog to live and love without destroying your hipster vinyl collection or chewing up your neighbor’s kid or humping the leg of your Tinder date and your emotions won’t be seen as a hazard or liability.

LESSON #2

Your Opinion Doesn’t Often Count But You Should Have One Anyway

Keep in mind that it doesn’t mean you are right or correct. Stifling those opinions, however, tends to lock you into an ideology or worldview that encases you like a dirty sleeping bag. Certainty is usually a sign that you’re an idiot so don’t be so goddamned certain. Fear of what others might think or do is a chokehold on your growth as a human. Sometimes the consequences will be a loss of status, money, love but pony up and join the marketplace of ideas. You only learn by trying and failing.

Ask questions (even if the questions make people uncomfortable.) Suggest solutions (even if your suggestions result in campaigns against you.) Stand for something or be mowed over by those willing to do so.

LESSON #1

Saying “Yes” Has Enormous Power

Life is made up of experiences. Places you’ve seen, rides you’ve taken, people you’ve met. Experiences almost always start with the word “yes.” Do you want to be the House Manager of the largest park and concert venue in the city of Chicago? Yes. Do you want to tell your story in front of an audience? Yes. Do you want to go out and catch this band tonight? Yes. Do you want to pick up and move to Las Vegas, leaving behind the years of connections and networks and reputation in exchange for a complete sense of uncertainty as you slowly age yourself out of the game? Yes.

“No” can be good but it is always a dead end on some level. Sure, you should have an element of survival instinct but with the guarantee you aren’t going to survive in the long run, “yes” is better. “Maybe” is fence-sitting pigshit and should be relegated to the recycling can that ends up in the landfill anyway. A shark drowns if it stops swimming. Be like the shark and keep swimming forward or die the death of someone obsessed with Netflix and pork rinds.

I’m beginning my fifty-fourth year in transition. Today I celebrate survival for 53 years and tomorrow I spend my last week in the city I’ve called home for nearly thirty years. Then off to spend the rest of 54 in a new town with new challenges and a bit of a clean slate. Reinvention, transformation. Whomever said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks never met me.

[theworstbob]

yellin’ at songs, week thirty-four

in this post WITH A TWIST YOU’LL NEVER SEE COMING, we review the songs which debuted on the billboard chart the weeks of 8.30.1997, 9.1.2007, and 9.2.2017

8.30.1997

40) "All Cired Out," by Allure ft./112

Imagine how dope this would have been a capella. Like, you have a girl group and a boy group. That's at least six singers good enough to sustain their own groups. Why you gotta give this song all the production? Why not let the cavalcade of singers carry this one home? Curse that we're a good 15 years away from Pentatonix making a capella commercially viable! This song could have been something.

46) "Backyard Boogie," by Mack 10

/clears throat /tugs at collar Eh, now this mack should not have returned. /bows to thunderous applause /leaves the stage /audience still applauding /walks back onto stage /tugs at throat /clears collar Eh, now... /audience falls into rapturous, expectant silence This mack? /everyone in the audience is waiting for the words i speak to deliver their salvation /i hold them for a thousand years Should not have returned. /i am anointed Wonderful Comedy Boy /god himself weeps

62) "What About Us," by Total ft./Missy Elliott

Never gonna complain about Missy in YAS, except for the time she cropped up in 2017 and I wasn't into it. I complained about it then, if memory serves. But I only complained about it because it was a Missy song that didn't sound like this, because this song is smooth and fresh and several other outdated descriptors! Also, I haven't made enough a big deal about The Double Decade Dance Club, but, as far as I'm willing to go back through the archives, the folks who've had songs chart in '97, '07, and '17 are Missy Elliott, Jay-Z, Tim McGraw, and Faith Hill. Special consideration is given to Mariah Carey, who doesn't qualify for Decade Dance with no songs charting in '07 but DID have songs debut later in '97 and earlier in '17! Congratulations to those five people on this fake accolade in a blog read by an indeterminate but likely single-digit number!

68) "Around the World," by Daft Punk

Have I had my complaints about electronic music in the 1997 list? Yes. Have I wished for dance music that sounds like something I could dance to? Several times! Does this mean I like Daft Punk? I... I mean, y'all knew I wasn't cool. Like, this sounds fine, I don't disagree with every single thing happening in this song, which is a step up from all the other electronic music, but I connect to this about as much as I do a well-composed track in a video game. I admire how it does its thing, but I'm not attached to this song in any meaningful way, I'm not having any sort of emotional reaction to it. It just sort of exists while I'm hitting buttons. Wait and this is HOW MANY minutes long? Y'all, I'm behind on every single obligation, no thank you.

69) "My Love Is the Shhh!" by Somethin' for the People ft./Trina & Tamara

This is like a staler version of the Missy track we had earlier, and I already opted not to pay attention to the Missy track so I could blather about YAS mythology, I don't know how I'm supposed to come to this song and find something else to say about it. What kind of name is Somethin' for the People, anyway? How do you settle on that as a name? Did literally every other combination of words in the English language fail to please you? I have to access the Iowa Land Records website sometimes, and the captchas they use on that website are delightful words that are almost English but not quite. Today I had to enter Simbang Carrer. I don't understand how you could be given a set of letters and rules which can create Simbang Carrer and think, "No. Somethin' for the People. That is how we identify." I hope they had a rivalry with Nice Songs For Enjoyment.

72) "Don't Say," by Jon B

milquetoast (adj) - a word used by people looking for a synonym for 'bored' that happened to open the thesaurus while they were hungry

73) "As We Lay," by Daha

"I'll be fine," Bob said as he decided to put off writing the entirety of YAS to Wednesday evening. "I know 1997 has 11 songs, but there's no way all of them are going to be '90s R&B! I won't get burnt out by the fifth R&B jam because there will only be five, with enough variety between R&B jams to keep these songs fresh1" Friends, I can admit when I have erred. In my defense: have you listened to Bad Cop/Bad Cop's Warriors? I feel I should be forgiven for making Bad Cop/Bad Cop's Warriors the only thing I've listened to the last five days. This song is pretty okay. I think the beat isn't quite sure what song it belongs to, but it gives this song a unique sound, which, hey, you probably didn't listen to all these songs. You probably don't get how much I treasure something that sounds unique, even if it's a not especially great kind of unique.

78) "Happy with You," by Samantha Cole

HELL YEAH I LOVE THAT SEINFELD-ASS BASS. You know what, song of the year, right here. I feel like this song is the reward for sloughing through Slow R&B Mire, and now I have this upbeat song about the joy of finding another soul in this world and being in that moment with them, and I just, thank you, thank you everyone for creating this moment, for giving me just like a nice song about how good an emotion love is. Yeah, girl, you try to hit that high note! A for effort! A for good song! A+ to your bassist, what a pleasant song!

80) "No Tengo Dinero," by Los Umbrellos

"Los Umbrellos was a Latin pop dance group formed in Denmark" Um "It was led by the rapper Al Agami, the exiled crown prince of the small African enclave of Africa" UMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM DID SOMEONE SEE THAT NO ONE HAD WRITTEN AN ARTICLE ABOUT THIS PARTICULAR GROUP AND JUST SAID "I'LL TAKE TO WIKIPEDIA!" AND JUST MADE SHIT UP? DANISH LATIN POP GROUP "The song hit #1 in Austria" OK, that I'll believe, knowing what I know about Austrian music that absolutely tracks, this is the trash they love in Austria. But no seriously DANISH. LATIN. POP. GROUP.

86) "Piece of My Heart," by Shaggy ft./Marsha

Oh hell yeah. This is everything the "I Shot the Sherrif" cover wasn't. Like, that was a song that wasn't quite sure what it wanted to do with the song, but you know what this does? You know what made me laugh in my apartment? It took the Janis Joplin cover, it gave it the reggae backing, it did the "COME ON! COME ON! COME ON! COME ON!" thing, and that led RIGHT INTO A GODDAMNED SHAGGY VERSE. LIKE HELL YEAH. That's the music version of the hidden blocks in Kaizo Mario. Just get dunked on. "COME ON, COME ON, COME ON, COME ON," and then it turns out we were building up to Shaggy. That was beautiful. Like, this kinda garbages up a standard, but I don't care, it's hella fun.

88) "I Care 'Bout You," by Milestone

Yep. Yeah, there's about only one way 1997 could end. "Sometimes I feel so alone/I call your heart but there's no one at home." Oh absoLUTEly fuck off.

9.1.2007

38) "You Are the Music in Me," Zac Efron & Vanessa Hudgens 60) "Gotta Go My Own Way," Zac Efron & Vanessa Hudgens 66) "Bet on It," Zac Efron 74) "I Don't Dance," Corbin Bleu & Lucas Grabeel 90) "Everyday," Zac Efron & Vanessa Hudgens 92) "All for One," High School Musical 2

Even in 2007, I was already too old, as well as a tad bit too straight, to have any opinion on the High School Musical series. But! While I have gotten approximately 10 years older in the intervening ten years, I like to think I've become substantially gayer, so HERE WE GO. Honestly, HSM as a franchise is inoffensive fun. I enjoyed the first movie when I was of an appropriate age to have watched it, I enjoyed the clips from the second film as a 28-year-old alone in an apartment, and "Bet on It" is a classic piece of American filmmaking that should be taught in schools. I’m not afraid to say it: High School Musical is great, and we are going to be so grateful if the world lasts long enough for the ‘00s nostalgia wave to hit and create the 20-year High School Musical reunion and/or reboot movies.

46) "Clothes Off!" Gym Class Heroes ft./Patrick Stump

So this song is breezy fun, almost certainly the song of the week were it not for the fact "Bet on It" belongs in every museum, but it does sort of foretell the disappointing direction in which Travis McCoy would venture, dunnit? "Cupid's Chokehold" is this equally fun song about a neurotic, emokiddy person finding love in this crazy world, and it's not the most sophisticated thing in the world, but it's a nice song with a distinct feel, and then there's this party jam about gettin' naked, and it's like, alright, I dig this party jam, but you're gonna go back to, y'know, the emo stuff, right? But they never did. They made one really dope song and then just made this forever.

98) "So Small," Carrie Underwood

Finally: an inspirational ballad from a female country singer. Don't think I've heard one of those yet from 2007. Great times.

9.2.2017

42) "Silence," by Marshmello ft./Khalid

This is a sensitive EDM jam like all the other sensitive EDM jams. I'm still lukewarm on Khalid as a whole, like I think he does a fine job on this song but I don't understand why he's this whole thing, don't really get what he brought to this song that no one else could, but honestly that doesn't matter when I probably couldn't discern this from a Chainsmokers joint. Y'all have fun with this one, teens. Y'all do you.

88) "More Girls Like You," by Kip Moore

Hold up. Hold up. Can we talk about the amazing mixed similie in the first verse? "I've been livin' like a wild old Mustang out in Montana fields" A mustang is a horse. He is comparing himself to a wild horse. Understandable, and hey -- interesting spin on the usual back road cliche! Montana is the state equivalent of a back road. Quality shitty songwriting! "Mighta earned me a bad reputation, but never stopped these wheels" A mustang is a car. So he's a Ford Mustang in Montana? I mean I guess? Always good to compare yourself to an American-made automobile in country music. "I'm like a Camry runnin' with a full tank!" said no country star ever. "From rollin' and goin' too far/From runnin' and gunnin' too hard" OK, so he's a car, I recognize these as car terms, you gun engines, I get that, I remember the word rollin' playing a starring role in the Chamillionaire standard "Ridin'," I guess I got that part wrong at the start. Definitely a car. "So unreigned, so untamed" WHAT A HECKIN' TWIST HE WAS HORSE THIS WHOLE TIME?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!? Man, this song is trash.

92) "Something New," by Wiz Khalifa ft./Ty Dolla $ign

"Girl, you look just like something out a magazine/You smell great, know your body clean" ...Di, um, excuse me, but did Wiz Khalifa just compare his girl to the perfume samples that sometimes come in magazines? Anyway, this song sure existed for three minutes.

95) "Untouchable," by YoungBoy Never Broke Again

Various other videos call this man NBA YoungBoy, and with respect to the choices he has made, I am going to refer to him as that from here on out, assuming we hear from him again, which, hey, he's not the worst of the mumble-rap cohort! I kinda feel bad calling him mumble-rap, because this song actually goes more than one place, and that's at least him mumbling! No auto-tune over a trap beat, an actual human being mumbling over a fairly compelling track. Beat's really good, this might be the first song that actually held my attention for all three minutes. Don't know who produced this, but I hope that person goes just a bit farther than NBA YoungBoy.

97) "I Could Use a Love Song," by Maren Morris

I really wish the first six seconds of "Sugar" could be a single. The rest of the song is good, too, but those first six seconds are goddamned flames. I think it's important for you to know that Maren Morris is way more compelling than this song. It's fine, but like we had "Every Little Thing" two weeks ago, y'know? Like, the music video talks through the song, and I don't... blame it? It's OK! Just slight.

98) "Fix a Drink," by Chris Janson

OH FUCK THIS DUDE AND HIS "ROCKABYE"-ASS SPOKEN WORD NONSENSE. This is stupid. This is stupid, and I'm stupid for ever complaining about the preponderance of '90s R&B I've foisted upon myself. It has a sense of humor decidedly sub-Toby Keith. Congratulations on being able to make beer.

100) "Woke Up Like This," by Playboy Carti ft./Lil Uzi Vert

Billboard didn't classify any songs as either debuts or re-entries, songs that weren't on the chart last week simply didn't have an arrow next to the name and I had to guess if they were actually new or retreads of previously released songs. Like, I could have sworn I had to deal with Kip Moore, but that's prolly just 'cuz it sounds like the rest of bro country's nonsense. So I can't tell if this is a new song because they restyled the title or if this is an actual new version of "Woke Up Like This," but I'ma just go ahead and assume my initial assessment of this dude being boring still holds. I can’t believe an entity called NBA YoungBoy won the 2017 Song of the Week title. I can’t... I... Oh. Hold up.

Who won the week?

Did High School Musical 2 just win this one for 2007. Did 2007 really produce the best songs because this was the week High School Musical 2 dropped. It’s not 2017 because the highest grade I’m willing to give “Untouchable” is C+. It’s not 1997 because there was “Happy with You” and a lot of interchangeable nothings. Holy cats. 2007 won High School Musical 2 Week. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I’m going to say, of the three years, 2007, BASED SOLELY ON THE STRENGTH OF HIGH SCHOOL GODS DAMNED MUSICAL 2, WON THIS FAKE ACCOLADE ON THIS LITTLE-READ BLOG. I forgot “Clothes Off!” dropped this week. This is all HSM2. Wow. What a week this turned out to be. When I was makin’ these lists, when I saw all the High School Musical 2 droppin’, I said, “2007 is dead in the water.” BUTCHA KNOW WHAT HAPPENED?!

2017: 12 1997: 11 2007: 11

2007 has won three of the last four weeks. Don’t call it a comeback, because 2007 never left. History is permanent, it would be weird if the entirety of 2007 disappeared even for a second. And next week, the last selection remaining from HSM2, “Fabulous,” will team up with 50 Cent to take on “Barbie Girl” and what appears to be /sigh/ an Avicii tune. Will the dream die? FIND OUT!