#affordable fencing options

[johnsoncitytnfencecompany]

Choosing the Best Chain Link Fence Companies Near Johnson City for Your Property

In as much as you may want to improve the security or aesthetics of your compound, a good fence is a necessity. When it comes to hiring a company to install a chain link fence, vinyl fencing or even a design of your own, the choice can be very important. Fortunately, there are many choices for both residents and businesses in Johnson City, but it is always important to select the right contractor.

Why Consider a Chain Link Fence?

Chain link fencing has remained as some of the most sought after fencing solutions for both residential and commercial buildings. Because of the product’s dependable construction, low cost, and the fact that it requires very little upkeep, it is suitable for many people. Here are some of the key benefits of installing a chain link fence:

1. Affordability

In all aspects of comparison with other types of fences such as the wooden and vinyl ones, the chain link fences are relatively cheap, and they are quality. It is also cheap and affordable for property owners who wish to fence their compound or protect their land from intruders.

2. Durability

Using galvanized steel make up chain link fences opposing themselves to rust and corrosion. This makes it ideal for use outdoors most of the time in places that are known to experience very many natural vices of weather. If a chain link fence is installed by professional fence companies in Johnson City TN, it may not need any replacement or maintenance for decades.

3. Security

If you want to protect your backyard, garden or a commercial area, then chain link fencing provides a good security barrier. It is widely used for the protection of huge areas such as schools, parks, and industrial facilities.

Other Fencing Options: Vinyl Fencing

Well, if you do not fancy chain links, there is nothing better than vinyl fencing. There are many reasons why vinyl fence has become popular in recent years; it has smooth finishes, is strong and can be used in various styles. In terms of privacy, security or even the appearance of your compound, vinyl fencing can suffice your needs.

1. Aesthetic Appeal

Vinyl fences are available in different colors, designs and sizes. If you prefer a white picket fence or a tall privacy fence, vinyl can be customized to suit any homeowner’s needs and desires for the exterior of their home.

2. Low Maintenance

Vinyl fences, like chain link fences, are also easy to maintain, and only require occasional cleaning. You will not have to bother with painting, staining, or even replacing boards. It is often possible to wash a vinyl fence with only the help of a garden hose and without any additional effort.

3. Durability

Vinyl fencing is also waterproof and does not rot, crack or expand and this makes it ideal for use by homeowners who would wish to have their fences for a long time.

How to Choose the Right Fence Companies in Johnson City TN

There are numerous fence companies in Johnson City TN, all providing different types of services for their clients to choose from. Here are some factors to consider when searching for chain link fence companies in the area or other fencing services:

1. Experience and Expertise

The first thing that you will need to do is look at the experience of the company. A good fencing company will be in a position to provide samples of work done and satisfied customers. For instance, Johnson City Fence Company has been in the business of installing good fences for years now in Johnson City.

2. Range of Services

Ensure the company provides a broad portfolio of fencing options from across the chain link, vinyl, woods among other types. This makes it possible that if you want to fence your compound in a certain style, you can be able to try out several styles and choose the one that best suits your compound.

3. Customers’ opinion and feedbacks

Go to the company’s website and find out what other customers have to say about the company, or simply ask the company for references. A good fencing company will provide clients with references to past clients who can speak of the quality of the services delivered.

Why Johnson City Fence Company is Your Best Choice

When people and businesses are looking for a chain link fence company in Johnson City, they turn to Johnson City Fence Company. Here’s why we stand out:

1. Full Service Fencing

We provide any type of fencing that one would wish to have including the chain link, vinyl, wooden, aluminum and many others. If you are in need of a heavy duty fence for your business or an aesthetically pleasing vinyl fence for your home, we have the product for you.

2. Expert Installation

We have a team of professional fencing contractors who are fully qualified and committed to ensuring that your fencing job is done to your specifications. We work with our clients from the conceptual stage all the way to implementation, thus saving our clients a lot of trouble.

3. Affordable Pricing

At Johnson City Fence Company we have the understanding of providing quality fencing services cheaply. We need to be able to come up with a fence that you can afford but at the same time can withstand the test of time.

[vibinwiththefrogs]

Well we had a certified American moment happen last night. A stray bullet flew into our bedroom and embedded itself in the hallway door frame. No one's hurt, we talked to a cop, and we stayed with a friend last night. And now we need to figure out how to bullet proof our room because I probably won't sleep in there again otherwise. Sigh.

[hsmagazine254]

Affordable and Aesthetic: Cheaper Ways to Fence Your New Plot

Budget-Friendly Options for Fencing Your Property When it comes to securing your new plot, there are several cost-effective ways to fence your property without breaking the bank. In this article, we’ll explore budget-friendly options for fencing your new plot while maintaining aesthetics. Setting Your Fencing Budget 1. Define Your Budget Determine the budget you’re willing to allocate for fencing…

[ellecdc]

Not Alone

Marauders x fem!reader who is looking for somewhere safe during a zombie apocalypse [no pronouns are used, but gendered monikers are attributed to the reader!] - 1.8k words

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

CW: mention of losing loved one's/friends in a violent way but not described, reader has injuries, mentions of hopelessness and violence, hurt/comfort

A/N: honestly, I'm not even sure where this idea came from but I needed to write it down lol, so hopefully someone out there enjoys it too!

It felt like the majority of your brain was focused on keeping your breathing even (and more importantly, quiet) than it was at actually finding you somewhere safe to hide. 

You cradled your - now useless - arm to your chest protectively as you fought to keep the disturbing image of your friend being swallowed up by the horde as she told you to run. 

You couldn’t think about that now - couldn’t afford to think about the fact that you had now officially lost everyone who ever meant anything to you, and were completely and utterly alone in this world. 

You couldn’t think about any of that now; you simply had to run. 

You were sure you were only imagining it but you swore your socks felt squishy with the amount of blood accumulating there from the various blisters adorning your feet; you and…. you had been walking for days now in search of anything - any store, any shelter, any body of water - that wasn’t crawling with zombies or hostile survivor encampments.

It had been one bloody thing after another; setting off some security alarm in a pharmacy and having to outrun a horde, having to avoid a camp of survivors who were out for blood, and dislocating your sodding arm simply trying to hop a fence.

And your luck didn’t seem to be coming up any better; the vast abandoned fields ahead of you smelling like nothing but trouble. 

You didn’t want to walk through the unmanned fields, not knowing what could be lurking out of sight in wait for you. 

The only other option was the gravel road, which while leaving you completely vulnerable was undeniably the safer of two options. 

You tried to compartmentalise; you needed water, but to drink water, you needed to take your rucksack off. Taking your rucksack off sounded like a painful endeavour at the moment, so you would need a secure place to do so. If you could find a secure place, you needed to rest.

You needed to pop your bloody shoulder back into its socket.

You needed to take your sodding shoes off.

You needed to sleep.

You wanted to cry.

You needed to cry. 

You’re not sure how long you had been spiralling or how long you had been walking without direction when the blazing sun finally started to set and allowed you some reprieve from its scorching heat. 

And suddenly, you saw it.

A rather dilapidated barn could be seen just peeking through various overgrown shrubs behind a barbed wire fence a mere kilometre or two ahead.

You had no time (nor the wherewithal) to consider whether the building was safe as your feet seemed to head in that direction of their own volition.

You needed water, you needed rest, you needed to take your shoes off. 

You needed to get to that barn.

On autopilot, you crouched behind the rickety fence and listened for any movement. 

You creeped forward and pushed the barn door open, listening once again for any movement. You picked up a stick and lobbed it into the darkness of the barn - still nothing.

Rather desperate at this point, you pushed your way into the barn and took in the space. 

While there was evidence of people having camped out here before - a few sleeping bags, an empty can or two of food, and other survival paraphernalia - there was no way to conclude how long those individuals had been gone for, or if they planned on returning.

But you couldn’t think about that right now.

You turned and shut the doors behind you, using your good arm to pull a bail of hay in front of it as a poor means of blocking the door. 

You fell atop of one of the sleeping bags; your knees screaming in agony at the impact and crying in joy at the relief as you manoeuvred your rucksack off of your good shoulder and sucked in a pained breath as you removed it from the other. 

You pulled out your flask of water; the last remaining bit you had on your person since the other two bottles were with…

This was the last remaining bit of water you had.

You took a tentative sip; knowing you’d love nothing more than to down the rest and then some, opting to ration for now until you were able to get your hands on more.

You kicked your boots off and were happy to see that your socks weren’t as drenched in blood as they certainly felt when you were walking. 

You needed water - check. 

You needed to take your boots off - check. 

You had an obvious issue with your shoulder, but when you went to try to reposition it, you felt bile rise to your throat and hastily pulled your hand away.

You’d worry about that later.

You needed to rest.

You couldn’t worry about the fact that you couldn’t worry about your arm later, seeing as you had no one here to reset it for you.

You had no one here.

You had no one.

But you couldn’t think about that right now, as the adrenaline of the day seeped from your body and exhaustion pulled you further into a strangers sleeping bag where you finally fell unconscious. 

You found that you suddenly missed camping, which was odd seeing as your entire life now could be considered various forms of camping. You missed the bonfires that weren’t merely a form of survival, you missed the light conversation and inside jokes, and you missed the easy laughter one only ever heard in the company of trusted friends.

You could almost hear it from your curled up position in a sleeping bag; the sound of a gentle fire crackling, gentle whispers and subsequent chuckles.

You almost smiled to yourself, that is, until you realised you really could hear those things.

You could smell it, too; the smell of fire, the telltale scent of pine trees from where a door must be propped open.

And you could feel the heat of the fire, and the familiar weight of company.

Your eyes shot open then as you tried to control your breathing.

You could hear someone - multiple someone’s. Maybe two? Three? 

“Good morning.” A deep voice greeted you from near your feet.

You scrambled to a sitting position - painfully ignoring the screaming of your shoulder - and pushed yourself flush against the wall behind you. 

The voice was a man - possibly around your age - dark haired, tattooed, and intimidating as he watched you warily with narrowed silver eyes, opening and closing a switchblade in his hand as if he was having trouble sitting still while he watched you sleep. 

You turned to grab for your gun only to notice that your rucksack was gone - the only one of your possessions that you still had was the flask that you fell asleep cradling in your arms.

“Easy doll.” The bloke said with a smirk. “Your stuff is safe - it was just a precaution, yeah?” He offered as he motioned towards another member of his group who was holding your bag up for your view. 

“You’ll get it all back once we know you’re not here to off us.” A man with glasses and hair that appeared to be a level of wild that could only be natural attempted to placate you. 

“And you?” You finally asked; eyes darting between the three men (that you could see) frantically. “Are you lot here to off me?”

The dark-haired man scoffed. “Don’t you think we would have done that already?”

“You’re sleeping in our bed, princess.” The bespectacled bloke added. 

You felt horribly like the Brothers Grimm version of goldilocks - sleeping soundly in a bear's home only to be mauled to death upon their return.

“Where are your people?” The man holding your rucksack who had been silent up until this point asked you then, moving to stand beside the dark-haired man as he considered you.

He was tall, looking far more like he’d been living through an apocalypse than his two counterparts did with the various scars adorning his face and hands.

You simply shook your head in response to his question. 

His lips pulled together slightly before he looked down at your rucksack. “You don’t have much here.”

You shook your head again.

One of them sighed as the tattooed man continued to scrutinise you.

“Do… do you want something to eat?” The scarred man asked then. 

You quickly shook your head and made to stand, catching yourself awkwardly with your elbow as you teetered into the wall behind you, one arm useless and the other holding it protectively. “Sorry, no. I- thank you, but I’ll leave, I swear it.” 

“What’s wrong with your arm?” The tattooed man asked as he stood from his crouched position.

You let out a shuddering sigh. “I…I don’t- I think it’s dislocated.”

He let out a chuckle through his nose. “You’re not going to get very far like that, dollface.” 

“Do you really have no one?” The man with the glasses asked then as he moved to join the three of you. 

“No one.” You whispered, fighting back the violent image of the last person who meant anything to you being ripped from your grasp.

The three men shared a look; the scarred man shaking his head and walking back towards the fire with your bag still in his hand.

“My name is James.” The bespectacled man announced. “This is Sirius,” He continued, nodding towards the tattooed man, "and Remus over there will help you with your shoulder.”

“And then we’ll get some food in you.” Remus added.

“I…I don’t-”

But the tattooed man - Sirius - scoffed derisively at you. “You are not going back out there.”

“Not alone.” James corrected. 

The two men went and joined Remus at a makeshift camp stove where he was warming up some sort of canned soup, and James pulled up another lawn chair making four seats around their  designated kitchen area.

You didn’t know these men - although they didn’t know you either - but it had been so long.

So long since you met kind strangers, so long since you smelled food that wasn’t preserved fruit or pickled vegetables, and so long since you felt any inkling of hope since the world went to shit before your eyes. 

But you couldn’t think about that right now.

All you could think about was how Remus gently patted your new spot at their table as he explained how he was going to pop your shoulder back into place, watching as James spooned some soup into a bowl for you and Sirius grabbed a brand new bottle of water that you could have cried over and set it on the table in front of you.

So, perhaps against your better judgement, you took a seat and allowed Remus to shove your shoulder back into its rightful place before securing it to your side with what looked to be an old lace curtain, and told them your name.

You didn’t know what might come of this little foursome you suddenly found yourself in - you couldn’t think about that right now - but at least, for now, you wouldn’t have to be alone.

continue to part two here

[saladoffruitcolored]

Yandere platonic omega father x neglected child reader PT 6

Rowan wasn't surprised, he really wasn't, but it would be impossible to say that when his boss called him into the office for a private conversation he didn't have a sinking feeling in his stomach because he knew exactly what that conversation would be like

He was fired, and that was scary because if he hadn't married Sarah, if he hadn't looked at those red flags and decided that the best option was to ignore them and move on, he wouldn't have been able to support himself and you anymore

It was TERRIFYING to realize how close he had come to losing everything,

He was almost forty, at that age and with his secondary gender it would be impossible to find a job as well paid as the one he had been in for the last 16 years

If he was lucky enough to have a job it would be at least with a HUGE pay cut, you wouldn't be able to attend your school anymore, a lot of family memories would have to be auctioned off, the house would be auctioned off

With no family or close friends better than he could do is temporarily pay for a hotel, he doesn't have a large emergency fund because practically 70% of his salary goes to his ex-husband

He got into huge debts paying for private school and it was only the generosity of the principal that allowed you to continue studying normally even when the payments were late

He felt ashamed to pick you up from school, he always felt like he was being looked at with pity by the teachers and with judgment by the other parents, what kind of father isn't capable of supporting himself and his own child?

Many times he simply didn't pick you up because he would faint from exhaustion when he got home, he would work overtime and secretly work a second online job to try to make ends meet

Rowan felt very ashamed whenever he had to use money from his college fund to pay a bill or buy food how many times did he not eat and lie saying he had lunch at work?

It was always hard to look you in the eye afterward

Rowan was doing his best to shield you from reality, so he wouldn't have to worry about whether or not you could afford an expensive dinner at your favorite restaurant or pay the electricity bill, he was doing his best to hide the reality that despite the house and the nice clothes you were broke

The decision made it more real, the truth is that you were both a hair's breadth away from losing everything, Rowan, once an orphan, had to build his achievements through his own sweat and years after escaping poverty he almost returned to the cold clutches of hunger again, and worst of all he would take you with him

He gathered the material from his desk quickly, Rowan could feel his curious colleagues looking discreetly out of the corner of their eyes (he felt like all eyes were on him again)

Cold sweat ran down the back of his neck

If he hadn't chosen Sarah as your psychologist... if he... If he hadn't accepted her advances despite the discomfort... what... what would have become of him and you?

As he walked towards the exit he could hear the murmurs, the whispers and laughter

WHY DID IT SEEME LIKE EVERYONE, EVERYONE, EVERYONE WAS LOOKING AT HIM!?

He doesn't even remember how he left through the back doors of the company (avoiding the other employees) or how he got into the car (he threw himself frantically inside) but at some point he realized that he was parked in front of the house

Not his house, the house he knew, the house where he raised you, the house he bought when he was still a young man in love and full of dreams

This was a new house, still sterile and without decorations or personality, the house was perfect with three bedrooms, a beautiful kitchen, a spacious living room, strategically designed bathrooms, two offices, a musical instrument room and two backyards with beautiful flowers and trees and the other with a swimming pool, the house even has a fence so white that it hurt Rowan's eyes

The house was everything he had ever dreamed of when he was a miserable orphan, so different from the orphanage full of leaks that made all the rooms cold during the winter and so different from the old house his house that was slowly declining due to lack of care or renovation

He didn't have the time or money to solve the problems of the leaks in his room, the old coin purses were already starting to give way due to time, the paint was slowly peeling, the tap water itself had a strange appearance some animal probably died there again

This new house was different, it was new and impeccable, there were no small handprints and there were no leaks, the new house was in an upscale neighborhood that exuded silent luxury, everything was so perfect that Rowan was afraid someone would simply kick you out and he would yell that it was all a cruel prank

He felt like a country chicken among majestic peacocks, a plastic diamond among natural jewels, a peasant trying to pass himself off as a prince

Everything was scary, everything was so different from what he knew

Even the car was new, it was different from the one he knew (the old car always had problems and smelled like burnt meat because there was always some old dead squirrel hiding under the hood), it was new and shiny, it seemed to glide smoothly over the asphalt unlike the rough shaking that Rowan was used to

He always paid for a taxi to take you to school, he was always afraid that his really rich classmates would laugh at you if they saw you arriving at school in that old junk car

Rowan always tried his best to project the image of a successful father but he knows he failed even at that, why is he so useless?

He needs a moment to compose himself, to gather the courage to go in and tell you and Sarah that he was fired

What if Sarah thinks he's useless? What if she thinks he's really pathetic and decides to leave, leaving you and him in misery? Would she do that? What if you thought he was a failure as a father!?

Telling him the truth hurts his pride, despite your and Sarah's assurances he still feels like a failure

Being alone in the new house is strange, you are studying and Sarah is busy managing all the hospitals

It's just him and the loneliness in the huge house, with not much to do he starts cleaning and cooking, these actions end up becoming a habit

Getting up, taking a shower, brushing his teeth, going downstairs and cooking, cleaning the dishes while you and Sarah get ready, serving breakfast and delivering packed lunches to the two of you, saying goodbye, tidying the house and resting

He tries, REALLY TRYS to find another job but no one wants to hire an "old" alpha in the job market, the young betas who were just out of college were much more efficient, faster and versatile than him, Rowan didn't want to admit it but lately he was having trouble understanding new technologies

Why would any boss hire an alpha “old dinosaur” like him instead of a young man fresh out of college who was more prodigious than he had ever been?

It was clear that society was about to be intractable in a crisis involving alphas and omegas, no boss wanted to hire people with these secondary genders anymore

The society in which everyone lives is a capitalist society and what kind of capitalists would prefer to hire an omega who is required to take a week off with pay every month due to heat than a beta who, for a salary slightly higher than the omega's, asks to work the whole week without having to take time off for biological needs?

At that time, omegas were also exalted, pampered by everyone even when they were adults, justifying cruel acts and even crimes because according to conservatives it would be impossible for a little omega to make mistakes on purpose, they were too “innocent” for that

Nowadays there are movements created to hold omegas accountable for their actions and ensure that they comply with the laws and are punished like any other citizen

Why hire an alpha employee who is not fully capable of submission and can become irrational due to hormones when you can hire a beta employee who always remains balanced and calm?

A few years ago it was common for heirs of large companies to all be alphas. The collective thinking at the time was that alphas were superior to other genders. This idea changed quickly when dozens of companies began started to go bankrupt because young CEO's were more interested in chasing omega employees than managing the family business.

Back then, if your alpha boss growled at an employee, the employee would accept the humiliation in silence. Nowadays, if your superior growls at an employee, he can sue the boss and the company for moral damages, threats, and humiliation.

When companies began to realize how much it cost to keep an alpha employee, a rapid succession of layoffs began to happen.

Omegas were also no longer welcome. People began to avoid them. establishments with omega employees due to the fear that their spouses would be robbed, with fewer customers the best option for the establishments was to simply fire the cause of the problems

A great demand for beta employees began, betas began to earn at least 2 times more than omegas and 3 times more than alphas, the price of higher salaries for betas compensates more for the entrepreneurs than the price of the various lawsuits and benefits that they would have to pay if they hired alpha and omega employees

The Beta Harmony movement started a great discussion about whether or not omegas and alphas should be accepted for certain jobs, it was a fact that omega phenomena could influence the people around them, if for example an omega worked as a lawyer and had a session with an alpha judge the result of the judge's decision could be tampered with to favor the omega

That was all that was happening on TV lately, on every news channel there was at least one discussion about whether the Beta Harmony movement was right or wrong

It wasn't a very good scenario to look for a new job...

When Sarah proposed that he stay at home he refused, he tried to refuse but honestly it was obvious that it was the only option

In five months he wasn't able to get a single interview, as soon as the interviewers read on his resume that he was an alpha he was rejected by default

Despite hurting his male pride he had to admit that staying at home wasn't so bad, he didn't need to stress about work anymore and now he has all the time in the world to spend with you

He's no longer late for your school presentations, he has time to have daddy-puppy dates with you, now he can really afford to spend money on himself and he doesn't even need to skimp on your gifts

Sarah just gave him a BLACK credit card and told him to have fun

It was like living in a dream and he was so, so, SO SCARED OF WAKEING UP

Everything was perfect until one day he received a notice from his ex-husband's lawyer requesting an increase in alimony again

Everything was going too well, of course something would eventually go wrong

With his heart racing and sweating cold, Rowan's hands shook holding the letter, what if... what if Sarah gets mad? What if she decides his ex-husband is too much for her to handle? What if she wants to leave? What if...

“Rowan! ROWAN!! Are you okay?”, she arrived and he didn’t even notice, he should have welcomed her at the door like a good husband

“What’s this?”, before he could answer she snatched the open letter from his hands

“Hmmm, it looks like we’re going to court, don’t worry dear, I’ll take care of everything”, Sarah hugged him, he couldn’t see it but he was sure she was smiling, the tone of her voice simply echoed satisfaction

Despite not wanting Sarah’s approval and comfort, it filled him with relief, he slowly relaxed in her embrace

he was so happy that she wasn't mad at him

After a small eternity Rowan looked up towards the clock on the wall

12:30 it was time to get ready to pick you up from school

[sinsofbeauty]

Red Stained Sunflower

Fandom: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Game

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Use of Pet Names, suggestive nsfw content, Johnny being “nice”, minor kidnapping mention

Requested?: Nah

Overview: The only car breaks down and your father can’t afford to fix it. He doesn’t have many options, but when you suggest a certain someone to take a look at, he can't help but feel uneasy. Little did you know that decision will lead to a whirlwind of trouble.

A/n: Thinking about making it into a series, so let me know what you guys think! Enjoy!

Your father was very upset this morning, and you couldn’t quite figure out why. He was stomping around the house huffing and puffing, mumbling to himself as you fixed up some breakfast. Up the stairs, down the stairs, back into the work shed. It made you furrow your brows, bewildered by his behavior. You set the table and sat down hoping to find out the cause as he made his way into the room. You haven’t really seen him this irritated in a long time, and he moved around restlessly despite him taking a seat for the first time this morning… still quite agitated.

"The car is acting up again," he complained, shoving a forkful of egg and toast into his mouth.

“Again?” You ask, spreading butter on a piece of warm toast. “Daddy I told you it was bound to break. Why don’t you take it to the shop?”

Your father looked up, annoyed, and shook his head. "It's too expensive," he explained after swallowing a bite. "The fence is falling apart and the shed needs repairs. I can't afford to manage all that work on my own, and it would cost an arm just to get in there."

“You could always have Johnny take a look at it.”

Your suggestion made him pause, his gaze incredulous as you shrugged. "Johnny Slaughter?"

“Yes Daddy, Johnny Slaughter.” You replied.

His eyes dropped into something more serious than before, and you could notice the changes in his facial expressions. If he didn't appear to be worried about it, that is. "What's going on between you and that boy Y/n? People in the community are always talking about that family, you know.” This was his technique of lecturing you, making you look at him with utter boredom. "He and his family are equally dangerous! What happens if the rumors are true?” Indeed. Rumors. The ones where members of the Slaughter family kept individuals in a cellar to later consume them? Or the ones that they were ferocious and would try to eat anyone who approached their house? Yeah, those.

“What if they aren't though?” You retorted while arching your brow. “Given how much time I've spent with Johnny, I figure something would have happened by now.”

"You're still spending time with him?!"

Oops. Yeah, that wasn’t supposed to come out like that. As your father flailed his arms around, you were slumped in your chair, picking at your food. So, as he lectured you about your decisions, you carried on eating your meal silently. He mentioned the potential damage to your reputation and the possible consequences for your family. Although he had legitimate worries, you also knew that he had a history with them, which probably contributed to his strong opinions.

“Relax,” You said, waving a hand. “It’s been a little bit since I’ve seen him anyway. If he really wanted to eat me he probably would’ve come by the house.” Your father gave you a disgusted look, making you smile nervously before setting your fork down on your empty plate. "On a… serious note, just this once," you attempted to negotiate. "Let Johnny take a look at the car; maybe he won't charge much."

“Johnny Slaughter is nothing but trouble.” Your father mumbled.

"You already mentioned that," you retorted, raising your brows. "Daddy it could save us money if we give it a shot." You stood up from your chair taking your dirty dishes and shrugging your shoulders. By the look on his face, you could tell your father was debating long and hard about it.

Letting out a sigh, your father rubbed his temples. He shook his head once more in thought before lightly thumping the table. "Just this one time," he asserted. “I’ll check with them after breakfast.”

“I can always go now while you fix the fence.“

“I don’t want you standing mere feet in front of the Slaughter boy,” Your father said standing with his empty plate in hand.

“You really think he’s gonna do something?” You say, raising a brow at him before transitioning into the kitchen. The long pause caught you off guard, considering that you expected your father to say something snarky or a short insult about Johnny. Though nothing came.

Your father had made his way into the kitchen, dumping his plate into the sink with his utensils. He gave you a firm look, his jaw clenched together tightly. "Check with him after the dishes while I try to fix the fence. If you're not back by lunch, I'm calling the sheriff."

You smiled and nodded while placing your own dishes in the sink. You hadn't seen Johnny in some time, primarily because your father didn't approve. Though he undoubtedly had little choice given the circumstances, you knew he would keep his word.

——

You arrived at the Slaughter House after what seemed like a never-ending trip. Having taken the back way since it was a little faster, it led you to the backyard which seemed for the most part unoccupied. You peered across to check if anyone was working yet as you leaned on the wooden fence. If it wasn’t Johnny it was most certainly Sissy prancing around here, roaming the sunflower fields in her bare feet. You briefly blinked, but you couldn't make out a single individual anywhere. It could have been simpler to go the long way to the front. However, just as you were ready to walk away, Sissy appeared from one of the back sheds. She doesn’t notice you right away, but when she does she approaches the fence, face once stoic turning into something… unusual. Almost like a fake smile, nothing enthusiastic whatsoever.

“Oh that’s who it is,” She said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Lookin’ for Johnny?”

Your eyes swept the surroundings as you furrowed your brows and nodded. “Uhm yeah… I wanted to talk to him. Is he here?”

“Of course ya’ do,” She said, looking at you up and down. The woman had turned her back to you before calling out his name, walking away completely as she made her way towards the shed she was just in.

Your eyes avert back to the shed, seconds later seeing Johnny peek his head out. Sissy gestures behind her and says something that you couldn’t quite hear, but it prompts Johnny to tuck something away and head over. Never have you seen a man jog so fast in his life.

“Hey sunshine!” As a silly grin developed on his face, his voice resonated in your ears. He walked up to you with his head tilted to the side and his thumbs in his belt loops. “Finally came ta’ see me hm? I thought I’d have to kidnap you from yer old man.”

You smile softly, watching as you take a step away from the fence. “The old man is the reason why I didn’t come.” You spoke to him. “I thought you’d be mad about it.”

“Mad?” Johnny chuckled as he leaned his arms on the fence. “Bein’ honest? I knew ya’d come crawlin’ back, ya’ can’t resist me~.”

You rolled your eyes at him with a smirk, making him cackle in response. Johnny had a tendency to be quite… charming. Flirtatious if you might say. He was a very attractive man and he knew that, with a simple snap of a finger he could probably get a dozen women on their knees. Maybe it was one of the reasons why he would get so many lingering stares when he’s in town. It’s not like you haven’t seen him there getting stuff like tools or groceries. The man could be persuasive as well. If it wasn’t for his good looks and deadly charm, your intentions would probably be… elsewhere.

“I suppose the reason you’re here isn’t jus’ ta’ see me, is it?”

You suddenly look up at Johnny, who is grinning slyly with his thin lips. Before shrugging your shoulders, your nose lets out an amused huff. “You can say that’s part of it,” You reply, making his grin widen. “Though I needed to ask a favor.”

“Anythin’ for you doll,” Johnny said to you. “What is it ya’ need?”

“Well the car is out of commission, not sure why. Was wondering if you could take a look at it?”

Johnny nodded his head and looked over his shoulder, gazing at Sissy who had just walked into the house. “Oh sure, it shouldn't be too hard now should it?” He said looking back at you with a raised brow. “Did ya’ tell yer old man?”

“I made the suggestion.”

“How’d ‘e take it?”

“You know daddy doesn’t like you all that much.”

Your sentence caused Johnny's eyes to flinch suddenly, and his jaw to clench slightly before briefly relaxing. “I could really care less ‘bout what ‘e thinks.” He replied with the small shrug of his shoulders. “But ‘e agreed did ‘e?”

“With a little convincing yes,” You replied with the nod of your head. “I was hoping you could possibly stop by today?”

“I can go righ’ now if ya’ want to.”

“That would be great.”

Johnny nodded his head and pushed himself off the fence. “Alright, I’ll go get the truck. Comin’ inside?”

You shook your head no. You expected yourself to be swarmed with his family. They did ask a lot of questions and you didn’t want to be bombarded to answer. Which honestly made you curious, considering what they ask is quite… strange. “No but thanks, I'll start heading home. I’ll meet you there.”

——

The lemonade you had prepared hadn’t been long. It was sweet, and tasted amazing. You hummed taking a sip from your own cup, setting it down on the counter before pouring another glass. Transitioning to the back door you take a glimpse through the window, which made you stop completely in your tracks.

There he was, the Slaughter boy working on the car out back. His slicked back hair came undone while little strands stuck to his forehead, the one he wiped sweat off from due to the heat from the Texas sun. Gloved hand reaching down to the hem of his shirt, lifting it up to wipe his drenched face. Those muscles, his toned frame as he turned slightly, all so shaped with scars of an unknown origin. It made your face heat up, cheeks dusted with a bright blush that only darkened when you stepped away from the window. Johnny was a fine looking man, and there was no doubt in his mind that you had some hidden feelings for him.

You opened the door to the back porch, a glass of cold lemonade in hand. Your thin flats make way to Johnny, strolling in your shirt and shorts. Jeez it's hot out. The closer you got to Johnny just showed how drenched he was in sweat.

“How’s it going?” You ask, finally approaching Johnny with the glass. “I got you this, you look like you need it.”

Johnny’s brown orbs flicked over to you, his brows raising in an instant. “You’re a sweetheart ya’ know that,” A smile spreads across his cheeks. Taking the glass from you he sighs, putting it up to his lips and taking large gulps from the beverage. You couldn’t help but stare, and when he was done he licked his lips before looking at you. Look at him all smug, the man chuckling as he took the hood of the car and slammed it shut. “Like whatcha see darlin’?”

You pucker your lips and blinked in shame, realizing you had been staring at him intently. Then you grunted and crossed your arms as the person in front of you laughed. Such a confident smile on a man. It surprised you that you didn't seem to care about it as much as you implied. “I’d like to see if the car is fixed,” You replied with the simple roll of your eyes, making Johnny take the keys from his pocket and wave them in your face. With that, you went to grab them but he pulled his hand back.

“I have a question for ya’.” He blurts, the keys still in his possession. “I remember the las’ time ya’ said somethin’— when ya’ came over. ‘Bout the sunflower fields, yeah?”

You blinked at his question, nodding your head in response. “Oh… yeah, I think I remember.” Raising your brows you thought about it for a moment. “I think it was how pretty they looked in the evening. Though I didn’t get to stay for long.”

You recall it clearly leaving at that time. In your short sundress, you stood next to Johnny as he leaned his back against his truck while you spoke. The man had just finished his cigarette, leaving a difficult day at the back of his boot. Before you arrived, the brunette and a member of his family got into an argument. In any case, that is all he told you. You had just mentioned the sunflower fields and how much you cherished the scene each time you visited. How lovely they appeared in the garden in the waning evening light.

During that time you had caught Johnny staring, his brown orbs gazing from where he leaned at on the side of the car. You had made a comment, making him smirk and push himself off the vehicle. “You’ve got some nerve sunshine,” His voice all teasing as he took your wrist. The man had pulled you close to him, the heat from his body signaling your proximity. “We’re all alone out here. If I wanted ta’ ‘stare at you all night’, I know jus’ the way to do it~.”

The reality that was only intensifying your blush had slowly crept back into your thoughts. Johnny had drawn nearer to you, which you suddenly realized. His face was incredibly close to yours—just inches apart. You raised your head to see him as his eyes played with a sly sparkle.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout it too?” His tone of voice was playful. Given that you didn't react, he laughed. “I know ya’ are darlin’, considerin’ I have it on my mind.”

Your breathing quickened, and it seemed as though a simple step or downward lean would practically close the distance between you. You couldn't speak because your stomach was churning with butterflies.

“I almost had ya’, if it wasn’t for Sissy butting into what didn’t concern her.”

Johnny didn’t have to say much to make you feel flustered, let alone so excited by him. His words had made your thighs press together slightly, in an attempt to hide that feeling which pooled in the pit of your abdomen. Oh and did he notice. He was observant to say the least, so of course he noticed the subtle movement of your thighs just clamping together. Pressing together at his words that you knew in some ways were true.

“How cute,” He teased, making your eyes widen slightly. “And ta’ think— you didn’t want me, but look at cha’. Holding those cute little thighs taa’ hide what I do to ya’.”

“No! That’s not true!” You fought with him, taking the keys from his hands while he was so distracted. Johnny chuckled as you moved quickly to the driver’s side door, opening it and hopping in. Putting the key into the ignition, you look over at the man who was gesturing you to roll the window down. With a loud huff you did. Set his arms on the opening of the window, a shit-eating grin appearing on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason,” He responded. The young man watched as you turned the car on, the engine running to life and your face lighting up in the process. “Good as new. Jus’ a couple loose wires and bolts.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” You thank him, turning the car off. “Now I don’t have to walk miles just for a carton of milk.”

“You’ve been walkin’?”

“It’s been an on and off issue.”

Johnny raised his brows at that, but shrugged his shoulders moments later. “Well if it breaks down again, come by and see me.”

“Why thank you,” You roll your eyes and open the door to the car, making Johnny step away as you pull yourself out. “It’s getting close to lunch time, would you like something to eat while you go home?”

When it was time to close the door, you noticed that Johnny had been creeping up again. When you turned, he was as close as he had been before. It was like a predator stalking his lonesome prey, all alone with nowhere to go. He wrapped his thumbs in his belt loops, eyes glancing at the house before his full attention on you. “Shooin’ me ta’ leave already?” He grinned, making you roll your eyes again.

You cross your arms, this boy had some nerve. Standing so dangerously close and making those remarks. “I was trying to be nice.”

“So sweet,” Sarcasm poured from his lips as a large smile curled. “But sure, as long as it's as sweet as you~.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You could feel your face start to heat up again, oh did it amuse Johnny. His charm worked without even having to break a sweat.

“Playin’ dumb hm?” He had a cheeky smile on his face. “If ya’ want, I can get inta’ more detail.”

You were hesitant, feeling the raw stare of questioning eyes from afar. The tilt of Johnny’s head fuels your hesitation but only momentarily. “Johnny you shouldn’t be so close,” You say, your eyes wandering to the window who you expected your father to be watching. They widened and went back to Johnny immediately. “Daddy’s watching us.”

Johnny’s eyebrows come close together, making the bridge of his nose scrunch light folds. “And?” His voice lowers an octave, eyelids lowering to a half lidded stare. “Could stare all ‘e wants.” His eyes lower into a half lidded stare, his smile fading away. He looked… dangerous. “Ya’ liked those sunflower fields huh? Why don’t cha’ come by this evenin’ after eatin’?”

“You know I can’t do that…”

A hint of disappointment sparkled in Johnny’s eyes. “Why not?” His voice sounded almost monotone.

“Because—“

You hear the back porch door open, turning your head to see your father walking out of the house. Johnny took the opportunity to step back from you, moving his way to the front hood of the car. Despite your father’s efforts, he still had a suspicious look on his face. He approached the two of you, his hands once shoved in his pockets now out as he moved around to the side of the car where you were.

“Is she fixed?” He asked, Johnny nodding his head.

“Yessir, jus’ a couple wires and bolts.” The Slaughter boy replied. “Shouldn’t be any issue fer now, but yer more than welcome ta’ stop on by if it happens again.”

Your father nodded, inspecting the vehicle and getting the keys from you. “I’mma take her for a drive, see if she’s running properly. I… appreciate your help… Johnny.”

The grin on his face told you plenty. “Anytime.” Johnny said to your father.

The man who raised you had given you a side eye, taking a sigh before going to the car. He had hopped in and both you and Johnny moved away. “Did you want to come?” He had asked you.

“Oh no, I’ll get dinner ready.” You said waving your hand. “You’re just going to town right? It should be almost done by the time you get here.”

Your father had indicated that it wouldn't be long by nodding. He was aware that leaving you with Johnny could lead to problems, but since you were an adult, he couldn't stop you from doing it. After saying that, he drove off the property while you closed the fence in his absence. You watched as he proceeded down the road until, at last, the car was no longer in view.

“So… about the fields.” You turn to Johnny, who you had heard from behind you with his heavy boots. He’d been smoking a cigarette, the bud stuck in his mouth while his hand shoved something in his back pocket. “You said after supper?”

“Ohhh, are ya’ considerin’?”

“Shut up,” You scoff, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes. “Maybe if you say please… I might consider it.”

“You’re kiddin’?” You smile and shrug your shoulders, making Johnny roll his eyes with the click of his tongue. “Please?”

“You could do better.”

It made him laugh, shaking his head with a malicious smile. He had cleared his throat, leaning in close to you before he purred a low, “Please~?”

It made you blush deeply, before coughing softly to look away. “Okay… you’ve convinced me.” Side eyeing him, you smirk. “Could’ve been better.”

“Cheeky lil’ thing aren’t ya’?” He scoffs. “I’ll see ya’ later then, sweet pea.”

Tags: @optimsluv

Part 2 is up! >> RSSF PT.2

[reasonsforhope]

"Fencing offers a ray of hope to young people living in Nairobi's poorest neighbourhoods.

Despite a lack of equipment, the sword fighting sport is growing in popularity in Kenya.

They cut a striking group as they wander through Huruma in their pristine white outfits.

These young people are heading for their favourite hang-out spot: the Tsavora Fencing club at the local community centre.

The street becomes their arena as they parry and riposte in front of passers-by.

This is not just a hobby for them: it's a force for good in their lives.

Fencing has helped carve a path away from crime, drugs and other social pressures.

"I used to be a gangster," says Mburu Wanyoike, who is now a coach for Kenya's National Fencing team.

"I was in crime and crime makes you feel isolated. It actually puts you in a place where you are isolated, making you feel depressed, having stress and I chose fencing as a way for me to escape out of the hood and escape that lifestyle."

His journey from delinquency to fencing coach and senior athlete in Kenya's national team has been transformative.

Inspired by the personal tragedy of the death of two friends, Wanyoike pursued training and education in South Africa, ultimately founding Tsavora Fencing in 2021.

Tsavora Fencing has made significant strides.

The team has produced 15 talented fencers who have earned spots in the national squad, with plans to represent Kenya in the African Olympic Qualifiers in Algeria this year.

However, challenges persist, particularly regarding the affordability of fencing equipment.

"Sometimes it is tough when it comes to competing with well-equipped international countries that are well organized, so what we do is just to move on with enthusiasm and obsession. The fact that we don't have the equipment, the limited ones we have, we use them. We don't complain that we do not have equipment, we just use what we got and put in the obsession and the enthusiasm and the passion combined, that's what we do, we fence," says Wanyoike.

Tsavora Fencing Mtaani, an initiative under Tsavora Fencing, offers mentorship and training in fencing to the youth of these impoverished neighbourhoods, shielding them from the dangers of their environment.

With 45 members, most of whom are students, the team serves as a beacon of hope in the community.

Participants are required to become disciplined and put on integrity.

"Initially I had bad company at home but now that I am in fencing, it has kept me busy and now it is a better option for me because I feel happy doing it," says Jemimah Njeri, a 17-year-old member of Tsavora Fencing.

"I cannot imagine myself without this sport because it has kept me very busy. In my area many girls have become teenage mothers and that is not a wonderful life," adds 16-year-old Allen Grace...

As Tsavora Fencing continues to thrive, fuelled by the determination of its members and the support of the community, it stands as a testament to the transformative power of sport in, even the most challenging environments."

-via Africanews, April 1, 2024

[goldenroutledge]

nose dive

pairing: john b. routledge x kook!fem!reader

word count: 3.0k

summary: in which john b is running from trouble and comes knocking at your door, rekindling a forgotten spark between you

warning(s): canon events, blood, being chased, slowburn ?, fluff

john b. routledge masterlist

Figure 8. Also known as uncharted territory for John Booker Routledge, whose reputation only worsened with time. Years ago, Big John’s disappearance– then surprise reappearance– seemed to set off John B’s domino effect of bad luck. Being caught up in the gun incident at the break and consequently being fired by Ward Cameron, being involved in a dispute with Barry, formerly on trial for killing the town’s sheriff in cold blood… not the cleanest track record in the eyes of the people he wanted nothing more than to get away from.

Only a few people might’ve topped that list. The mercenaries were lurking around the island like hungry crocs waiting in water, keeping a close eye on John B’s friend group and their treasure hunting pursuits. The one guy in particular, tall and built with brown hair and a dark look he couldn’t shake, had all the pogues walking on eggshells and looking over their shoulders constantly.

Right now, John B wishes he could spare a second to look over his shoulder, as he sprints down the road as fast as his feet will take him. Dirt turns into gravel before it turns into a paved road with beautiful homes on either side of them. He pants, painfully so, a deep scrape on his abdomen turning an angry red from a fence he just had to climb over. He doesn’t remember accidentally cutting himself on it, but the dampness though his shirt tells a different story.

The scenery around him begins to change the further he goes, letting him know that he’s not on the Cut anymore. Just when he wants to stop, having nowhere else to go, he recognizes the familiar knockout rose bushes near the curb of the driveway ahead. Your driveway.

Maybe it wasn’t the best scenario, but this was his only option at the moment. You two were acquainted, meeting last spring when he did some jobs for your family, preparing the pool for summer and what not. The two of you hit it off surprisingly, but John B stopped coming around as quickly as he started. It was slightly disappointing for you, but as you saw it, he probably wasn’t interested in you anyway. If anything, he flirted with you for the tips.

Though there was never an official hello or goodbye between you two. You could either slam the door in his face or not answer at all, maybe you weren’t even home. It was worth a shot in any case.

John B can’t hear footsteps chasing after him anymore, he’s pretty sure he’s lost the guy. But making the assumption that he’s safe is a luxury he can’t afford. With a fisted hand he knocks on the wooden door and rings the doorbell once for good measure.

You swore you were hearing things until the doorbell sounded, leaving you to sigh and place your bookmark between the pages that you just barely started reading. With no patience to check who was behind the door or bother to yell out “Who is it?”, you swung it open.

“John B? What are you doing here?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as your eyes land on him, leaning up against your home on an extended arm as he pants to catch his breath. To say this was the last person you expected to see on a random Tuesday afternoon would be an understatement.

“Do you mind if I come in? Please?” He answers breathlessly, golden brown eyes meeting yours with a pleading look.

“Sure, come in.” You open the door wider for him to enter, examining his disheveled appearance. Patches of dirt, grass, and even some blood stains covered his loosened button up, making you wonder what on Earth could have led him to your front doorstep. “Are you… okay?”

John B doesn’t waste time, entering your home and plopping down on the leather sofa with a sigh, running a hand over his face and then through his hair. You were close behind, sitting beside him as you held an expression and feeling of concern. “I could be better.” John B quips, monotone as ever. And by the looks of it, you believe him.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? A Bandaid?” You ramble, his eyes shooting down to his injury once you mention the latter.

“Shit.” John B mumbles to himself, blood now visibly seeping through the thin material of his shirt. “I didn’t realize… I can um- would you mind if I used your bathroom to clean up?”

“No, no. Stay here.” You assure him, fingers grazing over his shoulder to keep him from standing up, afraid that if he does, you’ll have a harder time helping him if he passes out. “I’ll help you.”

You scurry to the kitchen to grab him a bottle of water, twisting open the cap and handing it to him quickly. He takes several gulps like he just ran a marathon, not even bothering to put on the usual manners that are standard here on Figure 8.

“Thank you.” John B acknowledges, his voice less hoarse now that he’s rehydrated.

“Sure.” You respond with a soft smile, standing up and holding your hand out for him to take. “Come with me. We need to get that wound taken care of.”

“Alright.” John B agrees, but then again, he probably would’ve agreed to just about anything right now. His head’s spinning and it doesn’t seem to be slowing down even though his body has.

You lead him to the guest bedroom and gesture for him to sit on the rectangular ottoman at the end of the bed. “One second.” You tell him, before going to retrieve some first aid supplies from the en-suite.

John B looks around at the tastefully decorated room, feeling out of place as everything looks like it’s straight off the cover of an interior design magazine. He doesn’t remember your house being so nice, but then again most of his time working here was spent outside.

Except for when you would purposely, unbeknownst to him, fix lunch around the time he was present, offering him to come inside and eat with you. Just because it was convenient of course, you’d hate to let the food go to waste. He could never resist a good meal anyway.

Your house appeared spotless enough to eat off of any given surface, he’s seen JJ eat off dirtier things. And here he was, feeling like he just rolled around in a pigpen, while resting on a plush couch in your gorgeous home.

“Can you unbutton your shirt for me?”

“If you insist.” He chuckles, earning a look from you. Your eyes widen upon seeing his injury close up. This is the first time John B had the time to examine it, too. He cringes at the sight as it’s a lot worse than he expected. Adrenaline will do that to a person.

“My God, what did you do?”

“How much time do we have? You want the short or the long version?” John B prompts.

“I want the truth, John B. What happened to you?” Your eyes soften with sympathy as they scan his appearance.

He sighs. “Do you remember when I first mentioned my little treasure hunting gig with my friends?” You give him a nod. “Well, we’re not the only ones after it, obviously. There’s another guy and he’s really after us. Dodged so many run-ins with him that he started chasing my ass in the street. I hopped a fence, probably lost him around that point and now I’m here.”

You try your best to make sure your expression doesn’t come off as judgemental to avoid being rude, until your heart softens when he speaks up again. “I didn’t know where else to go. But I thought I’d be safe here.”

“You are safe here.” You smile. “Don’t even worry about it.”

He nods, lips pursing together. “Yeah, I’ll try not to until I have to go outside again.”

You begin dabbing at his injury with a damp washcloth, cleaning up the excess area to find the root. “Whatever you do, try not to die.”

“Trying.” John B murmurs, hissing as the cloth meets the cut on his abdomen. “Maybe it’s time to take a vacation though. We’ve risked a lot.”

You giggle at his contemplations, knowing he doesn’t believe a word that’s coming out of his mouth. “Just don’t get caught. First thing you should do with your treasure money is hire a full security detail.”

“Ehh, there’s no fun in that. I’d rather fight ‘em myself.”

“Of course you would, John B.” You smirk, knowing that once you sterilize his open wound, that tough guy act will vanish.

“Holy sh-!” He shouts, clasping a hand to his mouth, as he bellows in pain. “So, you weren’t even gonna warn me? Just rub salt on it, why don’t you?”

“Oh relax, smartass. It’s better not to warn you.” You shrug, continuing your process despite his uncomfortable squirming and shifting. “The pain’s over before you know it so it’s not anything worth warning you about.”

“Uhm, speak for yourself.” He retorts, exaggeration clear in his tone. “Warn me next time, maybe?”

“Why? So you can be dramatic about it in the same amount of time it could’ve been over and done with? Didn’t know you were such a baby, John B. You seemed pretty tough when you were running from your adversary 30 minutes ago.” He remains silent, figuring that you must know best. It would only take the lightest pressure from the cloth to set his cut on fire again. Talking back wasn’t worth it.

“Mhm. That’s what I thought.” You mutter in victory, gathering the used products and returning them to their original place, tossing the dirty materials. “Would you like to take a shower? I’m sure we have some spare clothes you could wear while I throw yours in the wash. I’d hate for that blood to stain your shirt permanently, it looks good on you.”

He smiles softly at your subtle compliment. “Thanks. But I don’t want to overstay my welcome, you’ve helped me more than enough.”

“So you’ll just drop this off at the dry cleaners on your way home?” You implore rhetorically, asking a question you both know the answer to. “You might as well take advantage of my kindness, John B. I don’t mind, y’know. It’s actually nice to have some company.”

“Alright, if you insist. I’m glad I could keep you company.” He trails off, puzzled at how cleaning him up was your idea of good company. “You think you can get the blood stain out?”

A chuckle escapes your lips unexpectedly at his question. “I can get blood out of pretty much anything.”

“Oh.” John B realizes, a rosy color taking over his cheeks. “Right. That might come in handy again someday.”

“As long as it’s not a murder cleanup, I’m happy to help. By the way, towels and everything should be in the cabinet.” You inform him from the doorframe of the bathroom, both of you sharing quick smiles and nods before you shut the door and leave with his stained button-up tee.

-

John B took longer than expected in the shower, his body going numb under the feeling of the warm water. It was refreshing to have a good shower in the midst of all the chaos in his life. Protected from all of it within these shiny porcelain tiles and the comfort of your home. When he comes out, he can’t help but smile at the fresh set of clothes laid out on the bed, neatly folded in a pile.

He saunters out of the guest bedroom, retracing his steps and following the scent of food into the kitchen. It was hard to remember his way around this place.

“Did you find everything okay?”

“Yeah, I did. Nice home, by the way. I always remembered it from the few jobs I did here. Not that I’ve been inside many of the houses over here but… you know.”

“Thanks. Have my parents' careers to thank for that.” You jest. “They’re never home to enjoy any of it, though. It’s usually just me around here.”

“You’re lucky I’m not scoping out potential burglary spots.” John B cautions. “You probably shouldn’t announce that. There’s some crazy people out there. Believe me.”

“Like you?” You chide with a sarcastic look, earning an eye roll out from him. You offer him the serving spoon to dish his food after you’ve dished some for yourself. “Thanks dad, but I think I’m fine.”

“Just telling you to be safe, Y/n.” John B defends himself, his hands up in surrender. “Don’t wanna see anything bad happen to you.”

“What happened to the whole kooks vs pogues thing? With the way some of these people have treated you, I’d say you deserve to be the one orchestrating robberies.”

“Got bigger fish to fry these days.” He shrugs, picking up some of his food on his fork. “And thanks for the food. Best meal I’ve had maybe ever.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m just saying, that kind of self control is amazing. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I don’t have as much of it as you might think.” He argues. “Standing next to JJ, maybe. Standing next to Pope? Not so much.”

“And you’re humble too? No wonder the kooks hate your guts.”

“You know, you’re not so bad either. I can’t imagine what they’d do to you if they knew how generous you’ve been to me.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” You shrug. “The less I can be like them, the better.”

–

You both finish eating in a comfortable silence, the sun setting before you have the chance to double check the time.

“So, I’m assuming you’re spending the night…?”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m positive, John B. If I minded, I would’ve kicked you out hours ago.”

He stands beside you at the kitchen sink, helping you wash the dishes. It had been ages since he’d even touched a glass dish, let alone eaten off of one.

“If you insist, Y/n. How can I pass that up?”

You suppress a laugh as he nudges your side. “You can’t. You’re gonna get a good night’s sleep if I have anything to do with it. After the day you’ve had, I’m assuming you could use some sleep. You look tired.”

He cocks an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest to feign offense. “Do I, now?”

“Mhm.” You hum sleepily in response to his query.

“You look a little tired yourself, Y/n.” He observes jokingly. “But I guess that might have something to do with me. Sorry about dropping by so unexpectedly.”

“Don’t be. I like having someone around, even if you are being chased down by a treasure hunting psycho. You’re actually not that bad.”

“Uh, oh. Hallucinating already? Sounds like it’s time for bed.”

All of a sudden, he sweeps you off of your feet and carries you bridal style into the guest bedroom. You let out a shriek as soon as your heels leave the floor, fingernails digging into his shoulders as you hold on for dear life.

He gently places you on the neat duvet, gaining a sigh of relief from you. Your hand takes its sweet time to trail down his arm, your fingers grazing over his muscles. A lovesick smile pulls at your lips as you stare into John B’s eyes, receiving the same expression back while he looks into yours.

“I missed seeing you for so long, Y/n.” He admits, just barely above a whisper. “I wish I had stayed around longer. I always tried to get more jobs here so I could see you.”

“Really?”

“Of course I did. Do you think pool water chemistry needs to be checked twice a week?” He compliments with a smile that makes you feel weak, sitting down beside you. The tips of your ears warm at his words.

“Good to know.” You ponder aloud. “I totally didn’t bother my dad to keep hiring you because I liked you, either. So I hope you don’t think that.”

He chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his lips turn up. “Ah, okay. Then I totally didn’t white lie to your parents about the pool checks because I liked you, either.”

You avoid his eyes, instead paying attention to the polish on your fingernails as you change the topic off of whatever’s going on between the two of you. “Is there anything else I can do for you, John B?”

“Kiss me and maybe I’ll feel better? I’m sure Ibuprofen works fine too, though.”

You really had to be delirious or something, as you obliged his request and kissed him. It was clear he didn’t expect it, but didn’t waste time relaxing into your touch. He places a hand to your cheek and deepens the kiss.

You both have matching drowsy smiles when you pull away. “Feel better?”

He sighs contentedly, head falling back on the pillow next to you. “I’m on my way.”

A yawn threatens to escape from you, so you take your last moments of consciousness to not let the moment pass. “If you ever need a hideout again someday, I’m your girl.”

He turns toward you, heart fluttering at your pretty face under the warm lights from the glow of the lamps on the nightstand. He couldn’t help but admire you.

“My girl.” He repeats to you in a mutter, thumb caressing your cheek. “I think I like the sound of that.”

Leaning forward just as the words left his mouth, you press your lips to his once again and kiss him with all that you could muster at the semi-late hour. Exhaustion makes for bravery you wouldn’t have otherwise. This time, John B smiles into the kiss.

“Good.” You murmur, thumb brushing over his lips once you pull away. “‘Cause I do, too.”

💌: this is meant to be a one shot so there’s no plans for another part, but i hope someone out there enjoyed. reblogs are very much appreciated :) thanks for reading!

[seat-safety-switch]

Most dogs are trapped in an endless loop of boredom. After millennia of hanging out in the wild, they're now stuck in suburbia. Just like their so-called best friend, the human, dogs yearn for stimulation that they're not getting in their off-eggshell-white, HOA-controlled economic-efficiency prisons. In recent history, these stimuli used to come from long rides in cars, but with the price of gas, and especially the death of our beloved Saab Automobile AB, who can afford to just drive their dog around while they bark at weird birds they see on the highway?

In the modern era, the rapid development of "dog parks" has attempted to provide a substitute to the demanding dog. No roar of engines, sure, but you get to run around a bit, maybe bite a Little League player. Unfortunately, dog parks are expensive to safely fence, and the poop has lots of negative impacts on the local real estate market, which we have collectively decided is the most important thing in existence and should be the sole survivor of our civilization, the only mark in the historical record that we were ever here. So they get turned into luxury condos.

Trains would be an option for the bored pooch-about-town, had we thought to build them. Dogs are notoriously enthusiastic about steam locomotives in particular, a fact which alternately thrills and horrifies animal psychologists the world over. Electric less so: the inverter whine hurts their little ears, and most of those run underground, where the only thing to bark at is weird rats. No fun at all. Streetcars, you ask? Don't make me laugh. You know what happened to that clown college at the bottom of the hill.

There is, however, hope. At the pet store, I have just now found this rubber bee that squeaks when you squeeze it. I am assured that it is the end of dog boredom for all eternity, or at least until my miniature Pomeranian, Ripper, tears the squeaker out and pukes it up on my duvet at 3:15 in the morning. Don't thank me: I'm just doing my part for all of dogkind.

[m3dieval]

If one was looking for armor, not just for the look, but for jousting and fighting. How would someone go around and do that? You seem to be more knowledgeable than most about these things and I’m lost on what to get. I’ve foolishly gotten pieces that were really for decoration rather than practicality.

This is going to depend on what sports/activities you plan in doing with your suit. Buhurt and balsa jousting for example will have different requirements. But the main things to look for are: material and fit.

Spring steel (properly tempered) tends to be the gold standard for combat sports. But mild steel (for more historical) and titanium are also used. Some groups/leagues have specifics on minimum thicknesses of material based on what it is and where it's protecting.

Stainless steel is generally not recommended if you plan on doing anything with metal weapons, but I have seen it used in some older jousting suits.

Chainmail is the one easy answer I have: if you want it to hold up to any of the armoured combat sports you need riveted mail. No butted mail!

For buhurt armour, which has a reputation of being made of good material but having a questionable fit, Buhurt Tech and Medieval Extreme are the shops that come to mind. One of the reasons I think buhurt is popular, is because they've made armour relatively affordable. You can get a full suit for as little as $3000 USD at Medieval Extreme and it will hold up to buhurt hits. If buhurt is popular in your area, you might also be able to buy some secondhand pieces.

Buhurt style suits are generally teased by the historical community for the fit. They're made to be more heavily padded, so they usually fit a little too big. They're made to be easier to fit, so often there is basically no shape at the waist. And there are other sport-specific adaptations that aren't based on history. But that's okay, most people in buhurt aren't trying to pass themselves off as reenactors. When looking at armour it is helpful to be able to spot the difference (look at the fit and proportions):

For historical armour used in jousting, harness fencing, and reenactment battles: either find a reputable armourer or buy a secondhand suit. Finding an armourer can be challenging. If you're part of a group (jousting, medieval society, etc), ask around about where people got their stuff. The United League of Armourers on facebook might be able to help you locate someone (even just reading the discussions there can be educational).

Sometimes there's a decent local armourer who you doesn't have an online presence (usually they are found though said group). This unknown hobbyist armourer is going to be significantly more affordable than a well established armourer who's getting international clients (and their waitlist should be a lot shorter) but there is a bit of a gamble on quality. If you find one, make sure you see what they've already made first.

Armourers whose work I've seen in person and can vouch for the quality (just looking at their portfolios should give you an idea of what quality looks like):

Jeffrey Wasson:

Eric Dubé:

TBH I usually forget to ask who made someone suit 😅 But if you're on the market for armour it's a good habit to get into asking that.

My helmet is made by Jeffery Hedgecock (he makes the armour at Historic Enterprises). My suit is made by Marc Hamel (he doesn't take online commissions). These were both bought secondhand from a jouster I met when I was working as ground crew years ago (it was over $600 CAN just to get it shipped from Quebec to Alberta).

My gauntlets are the worst part of my suit, they're these hourglass ones from Armstreet. They don't fit will enough for jousting, but they have protected my hands for sparring with synthetic swords. I am looking to replace them soon.

Armstreet is hit or miss. Definitely do your own research before you go browsing there.

The secret third option is to do a massive amount of research, get some mild steel and tools, then make your own armour. I'd start with watching videos about this (I recommend Greenleaf Workshop). Some armourers also sell classes, like Eric Dubé.

And we haven't even gotten around to discussing arming garments! We'll save that for another post.

Long story short: I probably can't make better recommendations than whatever group you join to participate in the activity you are requiring armour for (there are many types of jousting, there are many types of foot combat). But hopefully these resources give you somewhere to start looking.

[bigbigtruck]

Hi EK!!

I was wondering if I could possibly get your advice on something. You absolutely don't have to answer this. It's A LOT.

So, I'm an undergrad senior who's about to graduate from university, and I want to make comics professionally. I'm really on the fence about getting an MFA in Sequential Art. Shit's EXPENSIVE, but I'm really looking for community and networking opportunities and I know cons exist, but im not sure I'll get the same kind of connections with other artists I would than if I went back to school.

Do you believe that it's possible to have a successful career in comics without getting a degree in comics?

Thanks for your time!

vvvrrrrmmmmmm [quickly taking to the air in a little Cessna with a banner that reads:]

Comics is a low-paying, physically punishing job with no security. PLEASE DON'T GO DEEP INTO DEBT TO LEARN COMICS.

Learning by diving in and doing it, getting your hands in the muck, with guidance from texts like Understanding Comics or a series of remote or online classes, is a way more affordable option.

The Cartoonists' Co-Op is working on gathering resources for comic artists, and is definitely worth looking into: http://cartoonist.coop

And... that's as far as I'm qualified to answer, I'm a little embarrassed to say.

So opening this up: I know some folks who follow me on here are genuinely successful and / or have done advanced education in comics. What are your experiences? If you're successful, how did you get where you are, and how did education figure into that?

[zebulontheplanet]

Listen y’all, I understand that assisted living facilities and group homes are notorious for being bad and sometimes even abusive, however when I reach out to the community and ask for advice relating to me possibly going into assisted living or a group home, your automatic response shouldn’t be to attack me.

To automatically assume that it’s my parents who are pressuring me into it. To assume that I don’t need it. To say that I’m a horrible person for even suggesting it. Some of us can’t live on our own and don’t have the best home life. I HAVE to look at other options and I honestly don’t think having support care come to a house or apartment I own is for me. (Not to mention I probably will never be able to work enough or at all to be able to afford my own place)

It’s very…demeaning. I understand completely why some people are on the fence about it and have had bad experiences because I know there’s more bad then good experiences, but please don’t assume. Please don’t attack me for just asking questions.

It’s really annoying and I will start blocking people who do it.

[fix-it-darlin]

Propaganda Under Cut

Masc Listener Designs

That's it. That's the propaganda for this one.

Hurt/Comfort Darlin' and Sam Oneshot

It's about three quarters finished at the moment, and it's a bit of a what if situation where Quinn has escaped and Darlin's having a panic attack at Sam and their's home. Going to have a fair amount of comfort, but they're also making plans about how to handle everything.

Excerpt:

“Hey, Darlin’, are you home?” He tried again and caught the sound of a heartbeat going so fast that he couldn’t even count a second between beats.

A thud. 

Then a pained shout.

And then– then there was the smell of Darlin’s blood. 

There’s a second thud and the screech of metal across the floor. Sam’s running.

He finds Darlin’ sitting on the floor of the garage with the old metal stool that’s usually set by the wood working bench toppled over by the punching bag they set up a while ago. They’re curled in the fetal position and they haven’t even wrapped their hands properly, but Sam knows exactly what they were doing as soon as he gets his head on straight.

Teen Darlin' Fic

My take on Darlin's backstory and family situation. Darlin's a late bloomer in terms of magic with this one and that causes a fair amount of angst. Also full of Washington specific slang because I could not help myself once I went down the research rabbit hole.

Excerpt:

Jesse runs through the middle school’s front doors and flips Tank off on the way, nearly dropping her breakfast. Tank scowls and calls out to her, “Yeah, fuck you too!”

They regret it almost immediately after as they’ve got a horrified mother staring at them from the window of her car as she drops off her own middle schooler. Tank gives a shy smile and waves before they drive off, cheeks burning a bright red that they’re lucky the helmet hides. 

The road is a welcome distraction to the angry thoughts that swirl in their head, each passing white stripe erasing a nearly muttered fuck or cunt, and almost clenched fist. The next red light nearly prompts the script for an argument they know will happen to start running through their head again, but Tank chooses to notice the odd bit of metal work done on the garbage can attached to a sign post nearby to stop that train of thought.

“Clear head now,” they mutter to themself. “Road rage ain’t gonna do anyone any good.”

Turning the corner to their school and catching sight of the battered fence around the field with plastic bags fluttering off the crossed wire like flags was like putting their head in a cold bucket of water. A kind of sobering thing that their ma and pa did one time when they’d accidentally gotten shit faced at a new year’s party and someone had spiked the punch. That was before they’d moved to Dahlia. That was before they’d gotten kicked out of their last school.

Tank had a plan, and they’d been following it pretty well up until this point. Keep their head down and do the work. They didn’t have to be exceptional in anything, just do enough to pass. Don’t talk too much because people don’t like their stutter or ideas. If they have to talk, keep it to a few words and two syllables max. It’s sophomore year. Who gives a damn if they don’t show up to any sports events. That shit’s for seniors who can afford a break. Don’t get into fights. 

Okay.

That one hadn’t been going so well, but they’d managed to keep most of them off school grounds. They were working on it though, and they’d managed to go a couple of weeks without a fight. Of course, that streak had ended the night before with a prank call and a few choice words said about their family with a promise of violence if they didn’t comply, so who could really blame them for knocking Tim’s teeth out over it?

[intheholler]

hii

so, i have nothing to do with appalachia or even america cause i come from alllll the way over the sea in this tiny town in england…but reading up on this blog or experiences online // my friends who have moved over here from the states has made me think abt the huge similarities in the gentrification and religious aspects from across the globe (and it’s happening everywhere, but this is just from a UK perspective)

theres lots of rich farmland and wealthy rural areas in england. but the further into the country you get, there are towns/places in deep deep poverty because of the dead industries (that goes into heavy british politics) or facing a severe homelessness crisis because everyone is building holiday villas and country retreats. **

we used to live on an old farm before the land got renovated to make space for two other houses along the road. i would find bricks and planks// wooden posts, barbed wire fences etc around which looked ‘eyesore’ (to quote my neighbour) because of how modern the surrounding area was. literally just grey shiplap. everywhere. there were neighbours who had lived there for decades trying to help out with the land; then upon realising that the only field left for miles was now a jumbo golf course, had to move away or got kicked out by the council cause they couldn’t afford to live there and ‘just weren’t needed anymore’. moving away & meeting others myself has made me realise how many people (esp large families) moved down to the overpriced city because they literally had no other option.

** every city has its surrounding land & when they begin bulldozing a village to make another coffee place, they don’t care about you, the land, the cost crisis, your job or your roots

and that’s just my experience in england, that’s not even to mention the rest of the UK (eg. the scottish highlands, most of wales, northern ireland)

but also the heavy religious aspects, the indoctrination, the isolation, churches being built over and turned into pubs/bars and still so many communities believing that it’s just the consequences of the countries sinners..

(and that’s just Christianity cause we all know how Britain has diluted and stripped so much culture and other religions down to nothing.)

god i love these asks from intl folks who note such similarities to appalachian socioeconomic/religious/political circumstances. i think it really highlights how much rural folks really understand each other in a way urban people just can't, and it gives me a nice sense of global solidarity (as much as the shared pains fucking suck)

this was really interesting to read, thanks so much for sharing and i'm sorry this took so long for me to reply to; it's been a weird few months

take care <33

[awhalesrider]

Where Did You Sleep Last Night

A translation to my old fanfic on AO3. Apologies in advance for some clumsy wording and bugs in timeline.

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand/Female V (Valerie)

Chapter Summary: V had a bad birthday, and Johnny offered some sleep aid.

Additional tags: During canon, Pre Pistis-sophia, Soft Johnny

Getting a room is usually for a wild night.

That's true.

They rarely slept outside because it wasn't worth it - he spent too little time understanding a merc's lifestyle in the 70s. V was kicking around like a puppy. With those few eddies earned, she could barely afford a full meal and throw a few chromes on her body. It's kinda dumb for a merc worrying about the next meal and the next day to pay for someone else's bed. According to V, she’d rather get a good fuck. The only reason why they spent money on this shabby hotel for the first time was because of the thunderstorm, heavy as shit.

Johnny Silverhand stepped on V's wet footprints and stood behind her. He looked inside. The birthday suite was just as bad as he imagined. A sour smell mixed with the moisture of rain rolled out as soon as the door was opened. The air rushed straight to their head. There are generally only two possibilities for this situation - either time has rotted inside like a corpse, or there really was a corpse. Either way, it's all fucked up.

V stood at the door for a long time. "'kay..." She grabbed her half-wet hair, trying not to show her disgust too obviously. But Johnny could easily sense the resistance from the instinctive reaction of her throat and nose. She took a long breath: "Not that bad, right?"

Not that bad, you serious? Johnny had to admit that V got talents in self-persuasion. But they would have to continue to fight against her senses. Preem for both of them.

Unfortunately he's not the one in charge.

"C'mon, Johnny." She said, more like trying to convince herself than trying to convince him. The high frequency of self-talking always seemed to make her feel better.

"Let's see what we have here."

The door slid shut behind her. V found the switch with a few coughs. The light, however, only made the abstract badness a little more realistic. Prolly this is the characteristic of a roadside love hotel - kinda arrogant frugality: tattered curtains, dirty carpets, old toys, and super dream equipment on the table as if the cleaners quit after washing the sheets without taking those leftover gifts (mainly used syringes and condoms) in the corner for the next guests.

"Gonk's gettin five-star service. " Johnny decided to remind her of another option at the right time, "Another lesson for our merc."

V sighed, "Know what? Whatever you gotta say – say it."

"Never heard the old saying? East or west, home is the best."

"No, no...Johnny. It's raining like shit outside. And didn't I tell you cops are locking down Watson? Maxtac is prolly having a party there too." V gave a bunch of good reasons, though she was obviously frustrated about it, and she should be,'cause no one would get themselves in a stinky room on a night like this - well, maybe he would fifty years back. But she's not him, and she didn't want to be him.

"Well, then, got two lucky misters spending the night with ya." He pointed to the two dildos on the table that were performing a fencing match.

"Haha, very funny." V laughed dryly and took them away. She flipped him a finger and Johnny returned it back. She ignored him and opened the window.It was raining just right. V threw the two outside onto the awning to shower.

Johnny smiled. She was always very creative when it came to little revenge on nobody. The rain soaked into their palms. V turned around, taking a moment to wash away those flowers of blood, and she began kicking the garbage into a corner where she couldn't see it.

Poor girl, being angry for only two seconds, was now busy cleaning up the mess without getting paid. Should've spent the time roasting some brains of NCPD who blocked her way.

Johnny leaned against the wall.

Never thought brain-dead made mercs rush for biz at a loss.

Johnny came up with some jokes at this moment, like "somebody deserved a wanted poster hanging on her neck with what she's done, and now she's trying to be a law-abiding citizen". But V was a little too quiet as she walked around the room, not even commenting on the endless complaints in her head and yelling "Johnny you are not helping".

He got a bad feeling.

V kept the window open, making the smell in the room less unpleasant, but the strong wind, thunder, and wetness made them feel as if they had just moved to a different place to get caught in the rain. V tried to pretend that she did this on purpose, but their sensory pathways were exposing the truth: She had a loss of sensation in her lower limbs for a while, and she could not manage to stand up on her own.

This is no good. Johnny thought. The biochip was taking advantage of her injury, forcing her to retreat. But he could do nothing about it except watch the effect of the combat stimulant fade in her body.

V took off her jacket, and then the coat with blood spots. She put them on the bed sheet, and then the smell of blood temporarily covered the smell of old bedding. She sniffed, put her gun next to the pillow, and slowly lay down. Merc fumbled in her waist bag for a bottle, impatiently letting the alcohol pour rudely into her torn wound. Johnny saw the dark sweat marks on her close-fitting vest blurred into large patches, and the pain was vividly soaking her again. And V just lay there quietly, holding her arms tightly, waiting for this torture.

She was too tired to sustain any confrontational behavior, which was not good in any sense. Johnny dropped his previous attitude.

"V." He sat in the chair next to her, staring at her tense shoulders, "Can't sleep like this."

"Shut the fuck up, old man." She turned towards him. The words from her mouth seemed damp, wearily sticking in the air. Johnny noticed that the bullet pendant was sliding down her wet chest. V didn't look at him, as if she couldn't lift her eyelids at all. She was just clenching her teeth, insisting on digesting the painful groan. She shrank to the corner of the bed, with her shoulders trembling in the cold air, avoiding the radiation of the "flash bomb" that enveloped the entire city.

"Just… Stop talkin' for now, okay?" She tried to steady herself by holding the pendant, with her voice barely audible in the rain. "Need to meet the VDBs in Pacifica tomorrow... and I'm really tired."

Alright. Johnny stood up and walked away a little, hoping that she was not tired of living.

The windowpanes were clanging in the wind, and he watched V close her eyes in the noise and pray to get accepted in dreams. Fate is not such a cruel bitch if V could get what she wanted. Unfortunately, life is always hard, and most people in this city can't afford the ticket to a sweet dream. Only death has a kind heart not to turn people away.

Her eyelids twitched. The intense pain began to peel away from her body, getting replaced by waves of neuralgia, which was not life-threatening but still a continuous torture. The disrupted cognitive system made her fall into a trance similar to a hangover. Merc was still far from her dreams, but she was already having nightmares. Some noise was running wild in her blood. The strong wind blew into her brain, blowing into a mess of thoughts, some of which came from his memory fragments, but more of them were the bloody parts of her own story.

Fuck. The sting in his chest grew stronger, but he wasn't sure if it was her feeling it.

V suddenly opened her eyes, with her forehead covered with sweat. Her wet red hair was stuck to her temples.

"... Johnny." She spoke in a low voice.

 See? Here's who shut his mouth just now.

"Johnny?" But she called him again, as if she hadn't heard his thoughts, or felt in need of more response. Kinda disturbing, that, like a string of trills hanging alone on a music sheet.

"What? Need a napkin to draw unicorns, Matilda?"

"Kiss my ass." Said V, searching him with her eyes. Preem, at least she had regained the energy to curse. He met her gaze and felt a little ease of the dull and heavy pain in her chest.

"By the way, I'm Leon when it comes to professionalism."

Johnny raised an eyebrow with a little surprise. The film was half a century older than she was, but she knew what he was talking about. Maybe she was good at appreciating antiques.

"What now?" He asked, as a reward, "Our cold-blooded killer needs a bedtime story?"

He expected V to say something more, but she didn't.

"…Yeah, I guess." She just nodded and turned over, as if she's tapped out after trying to maneuver on the tattered sheets.

"Let's talk." She looked at him and continued to persuade him, "Do me a favor. Today's my birthday. It's now or never."

They both sadly realized that the joke was likely to become a reality, but she was still like any girl in 2020 who's a little off her rocker, except not that empty and fanatical, but still treating him as a confession window in the church. People would fill the desperate indifference with burning fuel.

Maybe she should really join the Animals if they would still like a rain-soaked puppy after seeing her sober self.

"Fine." Johnny compromised too quickly, and as he sat close to her, he began to strongly suspect that this was some scam created by the mental link between them. "'bout what?"

He felt strange after a second. Dumb questions. They were inseparable for 24 hours every day, and their brains were so small that their souls would collide with each other at any time, just like when he knocked her to the ground when they first met, she pointed at his nose and called him a dickwipe the next day. People always have noise in their heads. They should have talked a long time ago. In fact, they did: about Arasaka, Mikoshi, Soulkiller, and how to save her life.

"Anything. Just...don't be quiet." V narrowed her eyes. The lightning left a bleak white mark on her face, and she spoke again amid the chaotic thunder.

"...I...dunno, Johnny. I'm scared… for a little. " She smiled. The curve of her lips turned into a heavy expression. But it's unlike the kind she was good at expressing or he was used to dealing with. The smile was almost unattractive, but he suddenly felt that he had encountered a huge problem.

Johnny fell into a rare moment of silence.

"Of what?" He sat down and asked in a low voice, "Thunder?"

"Ugh, fuck off."

The joke was inappropriate, but it worked, obviously making her a little happier. "Think I'm a baby girl crying for her mother?"

Johnny snorted, "Whatever you say."

How old was she? Not even thirty. Many people in Night City didn't live to that age. He didn't deny that if anyone told his story, thirty might be considered his "old age". But she was still a girl, a stupid little thief who hadn't seen much of the world. Not old enough to die anyway.

"Okay." V ended the topic resignedly with a strange expression on her face, as if not knowing whether to cry or laugh with the fact in their head.

The rain made a series of sounds on the iron sheet outside the window, and she immediately wanted to break away from the silence in the room.

"…Wanna guess why I can't sleep?"

Johnny looked up at V's pale face, still unsure whether he should be her doctor.

"Too busy in your head?"

"Didn't even think about it seriously, did you?" she questioned like she was complaining, but her voice seemed to have reached the edge of blurred consciousness, with sleep or death on the other side.

"Same at first." She took a breath and finished her sentence. "Y'know, seeing your past all the time... Not the 'fuckin' something up' part. I mean, sex, gigs, radio-hacking..."

"Havin' fun, huh?"

"Hah, it's a mess. Bright light, loud music...gets me all dizzy, and... When I opened my eyes, cops were chasing me for blocks. My brains were 'bout to be shaken out." She released the hand that was tucked in front of her chest from the pendant and stretched it towards the direction where he was sitting. "But it's not bad... It's crazy but... alive. So... not exactly what kills my sleep."

Johnny sat near her without a word, waiting for her to explain.

"Don't wanna fall asleep," she said slowly, "cuz I'm afraid that...I won't wake up again."

"…"

V raised her eyelids and stared at his chair in a daze, then looked at him again. The scene of rain and fog outside the window appeared in her eyes.

Okay, merc's really going to give him a hard time. Her face and her thoughts got him amused but worried. Johnny found that V always confused him, even though he knew her thoughts better than anyone else. What? You are worried about your life every day, and you have been busy for a long time just to get rid of this fucking chip in your head. And now you are treating the time bomb as your guardian angel?

"Feel like dyin' when I fall asleep, Johnny." Her fingertips drew helpless swirls on the bed sheet, obviously not sober enough to answer his question, "A few days ago... I mean when I could still get some sleep, I thought I wasn't afraid of this... and anything. When Dex DeShawn asked me if I wanted to die at the age of thirty or get old in bed, I thought it was only about where to close my eyes. But I ..."

V closed his eyes again.

Building. Thunderstorm. Fall. Delamain. Smell of blood. Sad eyes. Bullet in the skull.

The dream screamed past his eyes. Johnny heard her spirit trembling as if she would collapse at any time due to info overload, which was a hundred times more painful than lying on the operating table without anesthesia.

"...Always dream about that day in the car... Every time I thought Jackie's just... falling asleep... Dunno how he felt at that time. Is it the same as I am... or you were...?" Her whole body was tense, and her breathing became disordered. "Pain, cold, nausea, like a nightmare, right?"

"So I was wondering... I was wondering why can't I just go flatline?"

The thunder almost shattered her words.

Johnny looked down to the floor, wondering if V noticed that she sounded like sobbing, though she wasn't. That's so not V, 'cause she was the kind of tough, sharp, brave, and capable person who was liked by everyone - of course they liked her. And she was the kind of fool that fixers favored, the kind of friend that edge runners loved, a kind of brave coward who forgot how seriously she took death. She's willing to eat the blood on the tip of a knife as long as she is given enough eddies or a true heart.

"…It's not that simple." He had no choice but to say this first, but he still didn't have much of a clue.

"Huh?"

"Been dead for fifty years, 'course I know more."

"But now I'm the one with only a few days left。" She pointed out.

The pain then hit him, much more severe than he expected. It was spreading to her limbs and organs and almost everywhere. Johnny couldn't even tell which part he was responsible for. He didn't like it, and he didn't like her saying so, because it reminded him that it was him killing her for all times, even today.

Johnny walked to the window, lit a cigarette, and heard the countdown ticking in her mind. Prolly this was why she didn't want him quiet. It was rare that they didn't break out into an argument, but still, they fell into silence with confrontation.

V had every reason to want an end. After all, she had come this far.

But she has survived until now. He always thought she was the type who liked to risk her life, taking jobs without careful consideration, and going through fire and water for everyone who regarded her as a friend. And now she wanted to dig a grave for herself in advance? This is not V.

Or maybe this is her?

Johnny let out a long exhale. The smoke and rain slowly mixed together, and he tried to calm himself down.

"…Emptiness." He told her.

"What?"

"Feeling of death." He turned around, putting the sentences together in the severe pain flowing through him, "Thought it was a stupid BD playin' for 24 hours? That's too fucking silly. You'll understand when you've been dead for a while... No sound, no perception, nowhere to rest for your consciousness. Last bit of existence's been taken away, like a fuckin broken plastic bag flying everywhere, and no one will give a fuck to ya."

V's eyes rested on him quietly: "…What are you tryin' to tell me?"

"I'm telling you getting some fuckin' sleep is never the same as dying."

The chair legs made a sharp sound on the floor, and he sat down in front of her again.

"... and stop thinkin' 'bout putting that bullet back in your brain. It's not any better than you are now."

Johnny leaned back in his chair and realized what he just said was a pure mistake, as if he was comforting a frightened child from a nightmare. Sounded like something that would be filmed in an animation half a century ago, the kind of unrealistic fairytale. But he was completely involved in her feelings and emotions. Nicotine was not enough to relieve his anxiety. Johnny continued to be annoyed that he had no right to accuse her of a bunch of depressing words, and he couldn't help wanting to finish what he said.

"Listen, V." He pinched her chin with his hand, forcing her to look at him more closely, but it seemed more like he was trying to pull her out of the suffocating fear. "Havin' your nightmares means you are still alive. We have a chance to think about how to be buried in the future. You hear me?"

V also stared at him, holding his wrist tightly and breathing rapidly. Her lips tightly pursed: "Sounds more like telling me not to be afraid of dying?"

"I'm telling you not to be afraid to live, V." Johnny let go of his hand and stood up, feeling his thumb brushed by warm rain.

"…and then get some ideas of makin' your days less fucked up next year."

He threw the cigarette on the ground and extinguished it, and the spark jumped into her eyes. V looked at him, and her cheeks finally turned red again because of her attempt to disengage herself. After a long silence, she finally smiled, but also really shed tears.

The sound of rain outside the window gradually weakened. It took a long time for V to speak this time.

"…Without you." She said with her voice hoarse.

It seemed that she finally remembered the solution they had agreed on at the beginning. Johnny was not sure whether he heard more certainty or more regret, but weaving a dead person into the story was a good sign for a dream anyway. This was exactly her current symptom.

Her breath was no longer so heavy, and Johnny could feel that the tingling in her nerves was gradually leaving. The dark water stains on her chest had not yet dried up, and were illuminated by the dazzling white light into a shining river, flowing slowly with her breathing.

Are you asleep, V?  He asked, never needing to speak but intending to reach out anyway.

Thunder exploded again not far from them, but this time V was not awakened. She lay quietly, holding the bullet in her chest with her fingers, and seemed to fall into an eternal sleep.

He had to admit that he was a little scared now.

As if by magic, his fingers reached behind her ear.

Her pulse beat beneath her warm skin. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"…G' night, Johnny." V said, exhausted, but alive. She smiled for the first time today. Her red hair fell down in a relaxed manner, like a cluster of flames pouring down on him in the whistling wind, and his chrome hand that had felt the heat of countless explosions was withdrawn as if it was burned. Johnny heard her sigh softly, like blowing out a candle.

The electronic projection of him dissipated, like a light smoke.

[boozy-dwarf]

I ordered myself a Tatar saber for training! It's so nice and neat.

I've been saying for a long time that I want to order myself a Talion sword, but I don't have the money for it yet, and I don't have a master of two-handed swordsmanship. But since I want to keep my body in good shape, I decided on a more affordable weapon. The saber is a great option for me, it has a nice unusual shape, the fencing technique is a bit different from “straight swords” and it only makes me more interested in it.

I just need to make a nice scabbard and belt for it and I will be completely satisfied.

( But don't even think I forgot about Talion's sword. I'll definitely come back to it one day :D )