#and get lumped into that first group and trashed.

[lucienne-thee-librarian]

Funnily enough these same people suddenly have absolutely no trouble comprehending the idea that how you EXCLUSIVELY repeatedly write your only characters from a certain demographic can say something about how you view that demographic irl...when it comes to characters who are queer/trans/female/neurodivergent/disabled like them.

post: the way you write certain characters can reveal certain things about yourself and the way you view the world. for example, the way you treat your characters of color can correlate to how you view Black and brown people in real life.

addition: nope! stop fandom police! kill the cop inside your head! stop demonizing dark fiction! acab includes fandom police!

[strangersteddierthings]

Good People - Final Part

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

It is not often that Wayne is happy with the monotony of work. Tonight is one of those nights, if only because it allows him to think about where he went wrong speaking to Eddie. He had never meant to imply he thought Eddie was like Al; he'd meant the apple and tree comment to for Richard and Steve. However, he does acknowledge why Eddie drew the conclusion that Wayne might have thought Eddie would follow in Al's footsteps.

Wayne's being a hypocrite, applying the logic to one boy, but not the other. And even though he never, not once, thought that Eddie would become Al, he'll never be able to take that thought from Eddie's mind that he had. He can apologize until he's blue in the face, Eddie might even forgive him, but he's not sure Eddie will ever believe him. Not truly.

And how could Wayne expect him to?

No. That's a shame Wayne will take to the grave.

Next strike to Wayne's conscious; the misjudgment of Steve Harrington, and how it ties into the fact Eddie accused him of not trusting his judgement, and, moreover, Eddie being right. Wayne hadn't trusted in Eddie's trust of Steve.

He should have. It's been years since Eddie came home crying about a boy, but what father doesn't see their kid crying over their first heartbreak and doesn't grow protective? And with Eddie, it's even more terrifying. Getting mixed up with the wrong boy could mean bruised ribs, black eyes, or worse.

In a town like Hawkins, a boy would just have to claim Eddie made a sexual advance and his murder could (would) be justified.

Now add the manhunt and being suspected of murderer to that. Well, Wayne's scared for Eddie's life almost every minute of his day.

But it's no excuse. Or if it is, it's a poor one.

Wayne doesn't know the full story but he does know that Steve was with the group of people on Eddie's side; that he was there with the Henderson kid, the Buckley girl, and Nancy Wheeler, digging Eddie out of the rubble from the earthquake, getting him to the hospital as fast as they could.

Steve Harrington was part of the group that saved Eddie's life, and that should have meant more to begin with. Instead, Wayne's been waiting for a shoe to drop that very well isn't coming.

He's going to fix this.

He'll give Eddie his space to be angry with him, and he'll try again in a few days.

When Wayne gets home, around 6:30am, Eddie's van is gone. He's not surprised. He probably left shortly after Wayne did, not leaving sooner just to avoid him.

There is a note on Wayne's bed when he makes it there. Says he's at Steve, and instead of letting Wayne know when he'll return it just says the words 'be back' followed by a bunch of questions marks. He ends it with 'call if worried' and leaves a phone number that must be for the Harrington residence.

Another hurt Wayne can't blame on anyone but himself.

Wednesday passes. Wayne eats breakfast, goes grocery shopping, pretends to care about his shows before sleeping the afternoon away to prepare for another graveyard. Eddie has not returned when he wakes, and two short hours later, he's off to work.

Eddie's van remains gone.

Returns from work Thursday morning and repeats Wednesday. He replaces grocery shopping with laundry and cleaning out the leftovers for trash day tomorrow morning. Goes to work.

Friday morning he returns home. No Eddie. He waits for it to be a more appropriate time, a little before 10:00am to call the number Eddie left.

It rings, rings, rings, then, a voice he hasn't heard in years. Richard Harrington's voice sounds as cold as it always was as the answering machine recites, "You've reached the Harrington's. We are not available. Leave a message."

"This is Wayne Munson. I just wanted to make sure Eddie's- that's he's alright. Let him know that I called. Checked on him. He doesn't need to call back but I'd appreciate it."

He hangs up the phone, lump in his throat. He misses his boy, and he wants to make his right, but he can't force that. Eddie has to always want to make it okay between them.

He's usually off Fridays, but he asked to pick up a shift. He can't face Linda without having fixed this. He spends the morning and afternoon doing all the small fixes he'd been putting off. Anything to keep him busy. He goes to sleep at his usual time, and wakes up two hours before his shift like normal.

Check's his answering machine but if anyone called while he was asleep, they didn't leave a message. There's still no van when he heads to work.

The plant tells him to leave an hour early. He tries to argue to stay but he's just waved off, told to go get some sleep because he's been looking a little worse for the wear.

He gets back to Forest Hills around 5:40am and finds there is another car parked at his home. Not Eddie's van, but the sleek maroon BMW that belongs to Steve Harrington parked where the van usually is.

When he pulls into his spot, the headlights of his truck light up Steve, sitting on his steps, wrapped in a coat. It can't be more than 50℉ outside right now.

Steve stands as Wayne cuts the engine and climbs from his truck. He gets to the front of his truck and Steve speaks.

"Eddie's okay," Steve says, hands shoving deep into his pockets, "I tried to get him to call you back yesterday but, well, you know Eddie."

Wayne nods, because he does know Eddie. "I appreciate you tellin' me. But you coulda just called."

"I could have."

They look at each other for a moment, and just as Steve opens his mouth, probably to tell Wayne he's going to go, Wayne speaks first, "you wanna come inside and have a cup of coffee to warm up?"

Steve tilts his head slightly to the left before he says, "are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Alright," and then Steve steps away from the stairs so Wayne can climb them and let them into the trailer. Steve follows behind silently but with familiarity. He's spent so much of his time here since spring break- the shame crawls through Wayne again. He'd assumed, once upon a time, that Eddie and Steve spent more time here than at Steve's because why would Steve want the trailer park boy in his big fancy house? Now, though, he wonders if it's because this place felt more like a home, even with Wayne's cold shoulder.

Steve sits at their little kitchen table, a luxury they didn't have before because there was no room in the single wide, one bedroom they'd had before. The new double wide (with three bedrooms) offered them a bit more space for a dining area.

Wayne's still suspicious of the government's offer to replace their destroyed home, but he wasn't foolish enough to deny the offer when it was made to him by Jim Hopper (newly returned from the dead back then).

"How do you take your coffee?" Wayne asks, once the machine finishes filling the carafe.

"Oh, I can fix it-"

"Nonsense," Wayne waves him back to sitting, "just tell me."

"I like it with just enough milk to take the scalding heat out of it," Steve says, and while Wayne's not sure just how much that it, he tries anyway.

He sets a cup in front of Steve before taking a seat across from him. "I really do appreciate that you came to tell me Eddie's okay. I want to give him his space but...."

Steve sips his coffee before shooting his cup a small smile. Wayne must have got the ratio right. Then, he looks to Wayne and the smile drops, a more serious expression taking its place and he says, "Eddie wouldn't really tell me what your fight was about, other than, uh, me and that you... overheard some of what I said last time I was here. I don't, like, want to come between you and Eddie, but I'm not, I'm not going to let you scare me away. So, just tell me what I have to do to get Eddie to believe we're cool, and I'll do it. Anything, except for getting out of Eddie's life. 'Cause I won't."

"I would never ask you to do that," Wayne says. Steve squints at him, a look of suspicion now. Completely warranted, given what Steve has known of Wayne thus far. "I owe you an apology, Steve. For how I've been treatin' you."

Steve's eyes go wide, "Oh. What? Why?"

"You've been nothin' but good to Eddie. For Eddie. And I refused to see that. I made a judgment about you without knowin' anything but your name." Steve let's out a soft 'oh' at that, but Wayne plows on, "And that weren't fair, and it weren't right. I can't undo it, but I want you to know I regret it. I'm sorry."

"Okay," Steve says, after a moment. "I forgive you."

It's Wayne's turn to be surprised. He's a bit speechless. So much so, he takes a page right out of Eddie's book and asks, "are you sure?" which is a question he's never asked after having an apology accepted before, but one Eddie had asked a lot when he first came to live with Wayne, and they were learning to co-exist.

"Yeah. I get it."

He doesn't like that answer. Doesn't like the he contributed to the mind set that gave Steve that answer. "You're allowed to be mad at me for it."

"I think Eddie's mad enough for both of us."

It doesn't feel like closure. It doesn't feel like forgiveness, but Wayne doesn't know what to say. He can't just start sprouting all the bad things he thought about Steve; there's no reason Steve should have to listen to that. But without hearing it, Steve doesn't even know what he's forgiving Wayne for. "I'll be honest with ya, Steve. It feels like you shouldn't."

Steve frowns at him. "Why?"

Why? Why? For all the reasons Eddie yelled at him, and all the things Linda said, and all the agony he's felt these last few days. The guilt and the shame that still eat at him, even as Steve Harrington says he forgives him. "It's too easy."

Those three words have Steve leaning back against the chair. His eyes dance around Wayne's face before taking in the whole of him. Or, what Steve can see of him with from across the table. When Steve meets his eye again, Wayne sees recognition there. "If you can't forgive yourself, I get that. I do. I-I've spent most of my life as one big apology. And I'm not saying that I, like, don't still feel like- what I mean to say, is that, I forgive you. I'm not, like, gonna hold it against you that you were just trying to look out for Eddie, man. Like, two years ago your fears would have been justified, so."

"Don't make it right," Wayne argues, but he doesn't know why.

"No," Steve agrees, "but I'm forgiving you anyway. You think you're the first person to hear the name Steve Harrington and assume you know everything you need to know about me already?"

Steve's words sound like they could be confrontational, but his tone is light. Teasing? Wayne says, "no. Suppose I'm not."

"Every person I love has done that," Steve says, and the ease of which he says that has Wayne feeling some sort of way. Eddie's words echo in his mind 'you made me help him feel that way'. How many other people have made him feel like he's a bad person? "Even- even Eddie. He made a point, during spring break, to, uh, well, he didn't apologize for anything because there was nothing to apologize about, but he made a point to tell me I was very 'metal' and a 'cool dude' so.... I know my name comes with, like, a shadow or a curse or whatever. I think it will for as long as I live in Hawkins, but that's," Steve flaps his hand in the air, as if that fills in for the word he can't find, and it's a move so reminiscent of Eddie. "Anyway, if you aren't actually, like, ready to accept an apology, you shouldn't be making one."

Wayne sits in that for a moment. There's a lot more to Steve Harrington than he'd ever thought. So much he doesn't know, actually, but he thinks he's okay with learning more. This boy told Eddie he was half-way in love with him earlier this week, and while Wayne never heard Eddie say it back, he knew anyway. It's why he was so protective. "You're pretty wise for your age."

Steve grins and shakes his head. "Nah, that last part was all Robin. She says it all the time to me."

"Well, then you best stop apologizing when you ain't ready to accept the forgiveness," Wayne parrots back the words.

Steve throws his head back and laughs.

They finish their coffee with silence and small talk. Steve tells him about how he never thought he'd miss his job at the video store but working at Melvald's is making him long for the days when the biggest complaint was late fees. Apparently, there's so many more things to complain about in retail.

Wayne talks about working at the plant and how the tasks are repetitive and a bit labor intensive, but the graveyard pay is worth it. Steve asks him a few more questions about working at the plant that Wayne's happy to answer and the more Steve asks, the more Wayne becomes aware that Steve might be looking for a change of occupation. He makes a mental note to put in a good word to Floyd, just in case.

Steve leaves with the promise of returning with Eddie, as soon as possible. As he was heading to the door, Wayne asked why he showed up so early.

"Eddie can't stop me if he's not awake," was Steve's answer, a mischievous grin on his face.

Wayne watches from the porch as Steve backs out. Steve shoots him one last little wave with his fingers before heading away.

He goes back inside and washes the dishes. Even dries and puts them away, a feat usually done once a week; he and Eddie have no qualms with using dishes directly from the dish drainer. His only other chore for the day is leaving for work a bit early so he has time to stop at the gas station and fill up the truck.

Grabbing the remote from its spot on the coffee table, Wayne plops onto the couch to spend his day as mindlessly as possible with some TV.

He goes to sleep at his usual time and wakes up at 7:43pm according to his alarm clock; a little over two hours before his shift is to start. It's time for more coffee, he thinks as he dresses for work before heading to the kitchen.

He jerks to a stop when he sees Eddie and Steve sitting on the couch, leaned close and talking softly. He's not about to repeat a past mistake, so he makes his presence known. "Evenin' boys."

Eddie pops up from the couch quick as lightning, taking a few steps towards Wayne before stopping. "I don't like being mad at you."

Wayne nods, "I don't much like you bein' mad at me, either. For what it's worth, I am sorry."

Eddie closes the distance between them, then, and pulls Wayne into a tight hug. Wayne returns it instantly, how can he not? He hears Eddie say, softly, "it's worth an awful lot, you terrible old man."

They part, and Eddie speaks first, "but if you ever pull shit like this again, I won't be so quick to forgive."

"I won't," Wayne says, at the same time Steve says, "he won't."

Both Munsons look at Steve, who grins back at them.

"You think you know my uncle that well already, from one shared cup of coffee?" Eddie asks, sounding amused.

Steve shrugs, "no. I just, uh, plan to stick around, y'know. Kinda hoping there's no dude after me for him to be an angry dad about. I would appreciate it, though, Mr. Munson, if you'd skip the shovel talk bit of all this?"

Eddie sucks in a breath and Wayne's a bit shocked by what Steve's implied. What Steve's admitted, really, out loud in front of another person. Wayne wonders if any boy Eddie's ever liked before would have done that.

"What good's a shove talk when you've already told me you ain't goin' anywhere?" Wayne says, hoping his tone is as light and teasing as he wants it to be.

"Glad we're on the same page," Steve agrees, "but, uhh, do you want me to go? So you can have a real talk?"

"No," says Eddie.

"No," says Wayne, at the same time.

"Oh. Okay. Uh, in that case, you got anything to drink here besides coffee?"

Wayne nods and they all pile into the kitchen to get a beverage before settling in the living room. There will be time to talk later, Wayne realizes. He's going to apologize properly.

Later, though, when he'll really be ready to accept Eddie's forgiveness, because there's no doubt Eddie'll forgive him. So, he's going to sit in the living room and chat with his boys until he has to go to work.

By the time Friday comes around again, he'll be able to tell Linda she was right, everything's going to be okay one day, and maybe ask her on a date he's been putting off asking for since high school.

Done!! I hope the ending is sufficiently cheesy.

I'm so sorry if I missed you! There were a lot of people asking to be tagged haha

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @kaij-basil-lionelli88 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @mugloversonly @limpingpenguin @krazyperson @acrolius @salisbury-at-the-stake @littlebookworm86 @savedbytheirmusic @wxrmland @myownworstenemyyy @thelittleclare @awkotaco24 @djohawke @wrenisflying @croatoan-like-its-hot @actualwakingnightmare @krowepoison @jamieweasley13 @yourmom-isgay @irregular-child @oldwitcheshat @abstractnaturaldisaster @wishiwasacasualfan @vinteraltus @zerokrox-blog @warlordess @stevesbipanic @steveshairspray @slowandsteddie @samsoble @waelkyring @just-a-tiny-void @saramelaniemoon @halfadoginatank @nightmareglitter @scarletyeager @hellfireone @rovia2312 @munsonslure @a-little-unsteddie @soaringornithopter @eddiethehunted @starlight-archer @dryptid @inkjette

[blueicequeen19]

DHP Pt. 8

Warnings: angst, oral

Series ML

JJ doesn’t say anything at my confession. If anything he seems annoyed by it, his brows coming together in confusion as he looks away from me. I’m about to demand he say something or I’ll start crying but he slowly stands, offering me his hand.

“I gotta finish loading up the rest of my stuff in my truck then you can follow me to the Chateau.” I take his hand, unease filling my gut.

“Do the Pogues know about—?”

“About us sleeping together? No. They’ll definitely get a kick out of me getting someone pregnant though. They always joked it would be me first.” A pain of jealousy goes through me but I ignore it, following him into his old house.

“Better to rip the bandaid off. They’re cool.” JJ says, grabbing a few black duffel bags off the floor and leading me back outside. I glance around the living room, masking my distaste but also the guilt for making JJ come back here. It was trashed. It screamed toxic and hurt.

I quickly followed him back outside, gasping when I feel a flutter in my stomach and quickly cupping my bump.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” JJ asks frantically, placing his large palm over my stomach without hesitation.

“I think I feel him kicking.” I whisper, my eyes wide as I try to find the movement again. It happens, firmly against JJ’s palm and I watch the way his eyes light up. His smile is blinding as we wait for another kick, my heart beating rapidly in my chest.

“He’s kicking.” JJ breathes, smiling down at me like he’s just won the lottery. I guess in a way he has. I wanted to build a life better than what he’s leaving behind. What we’re leaving behind. One things for sure, I always wanted to see him smile like that.

“Congratulations?” Pope says with a grimace, looking around to the rest of the Pogues as they pass around the ultrasound pictures. I expected some sort of reaction from Kiara but her expression remains stoic from the moment she saw us arrive.

“Guys! This is good news! He even has JJ’s nose!” Sarah beams, leaning into John B as she smiles. It was odd that the baby - our son - resembled JJ so much already. Would he even look like me at all?

“We didn’t even know you were together.”

“They’re not.” Kiara’s irritated voice rings out among the group, causing everyone to look at her. “Just fucking, right J?” Kiara shoots JJ a look and I stiffen.

“Kie—.” JJ starts but she shakes her head, getting to her feet.

“Did you tell them what you did at Midsummers? How you almost drowned Bryce in a fucking toilet? He’s going to come for all of us. He’s not going to just let her walk away. Pregnant or not.”

“What the fuck—?” Someone says but I’m shaking my head, taking a step towards the angry brunette.

“Bryce doesn’t care about me. He’s with someone else.” I snap. How dare she try to act like she knows more about my own life than I do.

“How long has this been going on? Bryce’s family is powerful. More powerful than Topper’s.” Sarah asks.

“All summer? Since that first fight, right?” Kiara announces with an angry shake of her head.

“Shut up, Kie. You don’t know—.” JJ starts but she cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

“No it’s fine. You got your family now, right? Everything you ever wanted. A son on the way. A Kook on your arm. Your dad is gone. Do you even need us anymore?” Pope reaches for Kiara to calm her down but she jerks away from him, stomping towards the house and disappearing inside with a loud slam of the front door.

“Don’t worry about her. Kie takes awhile to come around.” Sarah appears next to me, taking my hand as she continues to stare down at the ultrasound picture. I force a smile, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“I can’t get into my apartment until tomorrow. Is it fine if we stay here tonight?” JJ sits down next to John B, taking Sarah’s seat as she gushes over baby items and names.

“Yea man, whatever you guys need.” John B throws an arm over his best friends shoulder, giving him a side hug as they smile to themselves.

“Another Pogue, huh? Is he going to have sticky fingers like his father?” John B teases, making the rest of the group laugh.

“I’ll take the floor if you want the bed.” JJ says, a pillow and blanket under each arm. I roll my eyes as I climb into the small bed. It oddly enough felt comforting to be in his bed wearing his clothes to sleep in. Even though he called his dads house home, the Chateau was his safe place. This was his bed and his space.

“You think we can’t sleep next to each other? I’m already pregnant.” I tease, watching as he bites back a smile with a shake of his head. JJ flips the lights off before crawling in next to me, careful not to touch me. My hearts races in my chest just from being so close to him but eventually we both drift off in comfortable silence after a long day.

I jolt awake, the intense dream I just had wrecking me from the inside out. These hormones were no joke. I was constantly undeniably horny. It was a wet dream and I'd almost came in my panties. My breath comes in pants as I try to slow my racing heart but my clit was throbbing painfully while JJ slept peacefully next to me.

If I got up, he'd surely wake up. Maybe I can just quietly get myself off and go back to sleep. It felt wrong to do this next to him while he slept but the ache was too great. I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep like this.

I lift up my hips and slowly push his basketball shorts down my thighs. I slide my hand between my legs, my body jerking when my fingers find my slick, plump clit through my panties. It takes everything in me not to moan as I push my panties down next. My entire body practically trembles as I push two fingers to my clit, using my other hand to bite down on. I was so close already, this would be quick and I could go back to sleep. I widen my legs as much as I can, planting my heels in the mattress as I gather my wetness and press into my opening. I gasp against my hand, biting down on my own flesh as I push two fingers inside myself. I can't help it as my back starts to arch off the bed and I have to stop to catch my breath. I felt like I was going to scream. The intensity wasn't something I'd experienced before from just a dream. I'm about to say fuck it and go into the bathroom when a hand finds my wrist, pulling my hand free. I suck in a breath as JJ props himself up next to me, the heat in his gaze undeniable.

"I-I'm sorry. I can't help it. These hormones are so intense." I whisper, my thighs trembling with my impending release.

"Fuck." JJ bites out, his hand releasing my wrist to slip back between my thighs. He's hesitant with his touch, like he's afraid I'm too sensitive. When his fingers brush my clit, I keen, my back arching off the mattress.

"You're so wet." He murmurs, gently circling my clit as I shake uncontrollably next to him.

"I know. I can't help it. It won't stop." I cry softly, clenching my teeth as he circles my entrance.

"This happens a lot?" JJ rasps, bringing his fingers back to my clit.

"I've been uncontrollably horny for weeks. I brought my toys but they're packed away." I admit, my face heating with embarrassment.

"Toys. As in multiple." JJ shakes with a laugh before moving between my legs, dropping down on his stomach. He moves my legs over his shoulders, his hands finding my hips as he looks up at me with those fucking lust filled eyes.

"Cover your face with the pillow. Don't want you screaming the house down." JJ instructs, not looking away as he licks a stripe up my slit. I nod in agreement, taking the pillow out from under my head and bringing it down over my face. It almost made it worse not being able to see him. I feel his breath fan across my pussy before he flicks my clit. I jerk, feeling his hands tighten on my hips before he does it again.

"God, you're so creamy. I'm going to have to change the sheets." JJ's deep, husky voice has me clenching around nothing while attempting to lift my hips in search of his mouth. His skilled mouth finds my clit, licking and sucking until I explode, my cries muffled by the pillow. The wave keeps coming, not allowing me a moment to breathe as I cum again and again on his tongue until we’re both drenched. My thighs tremble uncontrollably, attempting to clamp shut on their own but JJ fights me, keeping them open as he feasts endlessly.

“JJ, please, please, I can’t take anymore. Please stop.” I yank on his hair, my eyes pricked with tears as another orgasm rips through me. I slowly come back down from seeing stars, my chest heaving as I open my eyes to find the pillow gone and JJ on top of me.

Just by the intensity in his eyes and the way he’s trembling, I think he might give in and kiss me. I want him to. I could feel how hard he was through his thin shorts, his cock pressed firmly against my thigh. My body and heart ache for him but the longer we stay unmoving, the more I see his walls being put back up and he sighs, rolling off me.

“I’m sorry. I—.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ll take care of you while my child is inside you. I don’t want you hooking up with anyone else.” JJ says sternly, not seeing the look I shoot at him in the dark.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” I deadpan, rolling over to give him my back, the mood officially over.

[autumn-leaves]

it's fanfic writer appreciation week and i wanted to take a minute to appreciate you!! i recently read your vld fic on AO3 and loved it so much. you're a very talented writer with creative ideas and great dialogue. you're also a delightful person to interact with in any capacity!! i think you have a lot to be proud of :)

I am. So genuinely touched by this, thank you 😭 I have been a very big fan of your writing for years now, and knowing you have read my writing is insane, and I'm especially grateful because I know you cut ties with that fandom a while ago.

Thank you so much for this kind message, I read it and blacked out and wrote a camp camp fic for you 😭😭 hope you enjoy, and thank you for being you!!! <3

(written all in one go and barely checked for errors, so my apologies for any mistakes)

When Gwen woke up that morning, she knew it was going to be a terrible day. She didn’t know the how or the why yet, but deep down something was telling her to roll over, close her eyes, and block out the world until the sun rose again tomorrow. 

Unfortunately for Gwen, that wasn’t how being responsible for a group of kids worked, no matter whether the kids in question were absolute shits or not. So, instead, she took a deep breath, forced her eyes back open and sat up looking over to David’s side of the shared councillors cabin. Normally Gwen would wake to the sight of David preparing supplies for the day’s craft activities, or planning the hiking route, or even doing some kind of strengthening yoga routine, which took entirely too much energy and willpower for five thirty in the morning, in Gwen’s opinion. 

Instead, what greeted her today was a vaguely David-shaped lump under the covers. Gwen blinked once, then twice, but the view didn’t change. In all the time Gwen has worked alongside David, she cannot recall a single instance in which she has woken up before him, and it does nothing to calm her nerves. 

Shrugging it off, she hauls herself out of bed and into the shower, and by the time she emerges David is up and ready to go, smiling and chattering away as usual, and part of her relaxes. Maybe today won't be so bad.

Typically, the day gets worse. 

That, in and of itself, isn’t strictly unusual for Camp Campbell, but it’s a different brand of WrongTM today, one that Gwen does not care for. That morning in the mess hall, a food fight had broken out, getting so bloodthirsty that multiple windows ended up smashed, shattering completely. Honestly? Gwen couldn’t care less; that was a problem for the Quartermaster. Their first activity of the day had been archery, which had ended in a flaming arrow planting itself firmly into their trash bin and starting a foul-smelling, impossible-to-put-out, literal dumpster fire. That’s whatever, if Gwen is honest. Lunch had passed in a blur, in which David and Gwen had had to ban knives, leaving the kids to poke aimlessly at their food with plastic sporks, but she thought maybe the little shits deserved it. 

Collapsing back onto her spot on the councillors table with David, she watched them wolf down their ice cream, clearly none of them willing to risk the rare treat by acting out, then looked sideways at David, pleasantly surprised to see him looking almost as exhausted as she felt. Don’t get her wrong; it’s not that she wanted her friend to be miserable, it’s just that he had this incredibly frustrating ability to remain the happiest, most chipper person on the planet in the face of the most infuriating circumstances. Sometimes it made Gwen feel insane, like she was the only one aware of what was going on in the camp.

Some of that relief faded, however, when David rested his forehead in his hands and mumbled, “How is it only lunchtime?”, with a weariness she’d never heard from him in her life. 

Frowning, she tilted her head down, trying to catch his attention. “What’s up with you?” She asks, and she doesn’t think it sounds angry until David is whipping his head up, plastering a - somewhat unnerving - smile across his face.

“Sorry, Gwen! Nothing’s wrong, today just seems to be a bit of a slower day today, is all. At least that means more time for fun activities, though!”.

She realises it’s meant to be reassuring, but honestly it’s downright freaky watching David put a personality on like a coat. 

“Are you okay, David?” She presses, voice slightly softer than before. 

“Of course I am, Gwen! Why wouldn’t I be? The sun is out, the birds are singing and I’m here at Camp-”

“Don’t bullshit me, David.” She says, her gut feeling from the morning coming back full force. “What is it? Was it Campbell? Are we getting more budget cuts? Or was there a complaint? Are we getting a surprise inspection, or - oh god, is our pay going down?” She asks, thoughts going a mile a minute about what could possibly have made David look so defeated a few moments ago.

“What? Gwen - no, it’s nothing like that.” David replies, a little startled. He sighs, and then he looks tired again. He’s still smiling, but it's smaller and a little awkward, and it’s so not David but somehow more David than Gwen thinks she’s ever seen him. “I’m just a little under the weather, that’s all.” He finishes, quietly, like he’s scared the campers might hear. Which - fair, Gwen can only imagine what those little assholes would do if they sensed weakness.

“Under the weather how?” She asks, sceptical.

He frowns, but seems to weigh his options and decide being honest is a better choice than keeping quiet, because he answers all the same. “A headache. And maybe a minor fever, some dizziness. I’m mostly just tired, so it’s nothing a little rest won’t fix. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow, don’t worry.”

Looking at him now, like, really looking, Gwen realises he’s pale and a little shaky; there’s bags under his eyes and a slight flush on the heights of his cheeks like he’s been rushing around, which he has, but she suspects it has more to do with fever than it does managing the kids. Part of her wants to reach out and press her hand to her forehead, but she gets the feeling David wouldn’t appreciate that, especially not in front of all of the children because god forbid he shows them that sometimes he isn’t having the time of his life, enjoying camp every step of the way. God forbid they see him as human, and not a punching bag only there for entertainment. 

“You know, I can handle the kids for an hour or two if you want a power nap? I’ll get the coloured paper and markers out and make up some bullshit about writing a letter to their future selves or something.” She offers, and the fact that David actually considers it for a second proves to her that he’s feeling worse than he lets on. Ultimately, though, he shakes his head. 

“No, it wouldn’t be fair to leave you to run camp by yourself. Besides, we’re supposed to be doing plant identification today, and I can’t deprive the kids of a valuable skill like that just because I’m a little poorly. I’ll be fine.” He says, decisively, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as Gwen.

Before she can argue the point further, the sound of the kids talking escalates to a volume that’s too much to tolerate as they get restless, dessert finished and their boredom rising. Standing, she shouts over the racket, “Everyone look at me! Shut up for a minute, would you?”. It takes a moment, but they do quieten and look in her direction, so she takes the win. “In a moment we’re going to head outside for our afternoon activity, okay, so everyone go and put your plates on the hatch for Quartermaster and then line up at the door.”

Predictably, there is no neat, single-file line like Gwen had asked, and instead a crowd of pushing and shoving by the mess hall doors. Shaking her head, Gwen lets them out, allowing David to start explaining what they’d be doing. In all honesty, Gwen tunes this part out, knowing vaguely that each group would have a plant identification book and a list of plants to find. Instead, she uses this time to study David, who’s energy seems to be waning quicker now that he’s on his feet. Max is giving David some kind of shit, and his plastered-on smile is faltering ever so slightly, the longer Max refuses to stop. 

Sighing, she shoots Max a look and he backs off, for now, but he doesn’t seem very deterred. David finishes up his explanation and sends the kids off in groups of four, instructing them not to go out of his and Gwen’s sight. A few moments pass in silence as they observe the kids, enjoying the peace for the first time that day. Around them, the kids seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves - the task gives them just enough freedom that they’re satisfied, goofing off as they look at plants half-heartedly and enjoy the sun, with the added bonus of letting Gwen and David take a backseat for a little while. 

The kids have quite a long time to find all of the plants on the list; they know their campers well enough to know that the work-to-messing-around ratio will not be equal, so Gwen takes a seat on one of the nearby picnic benches. She expects David to follow her lead and sit down too, and she hopes he does because he wasn’t looking too hot during his instructions earlier, but he remains standing. The feeling in her gut grows stronger, but she forces it down. She’s getting worked up over nothing, David said it himself, he’s just a little under the weather. David is a grown man; if he feels like he needs to sit down, he’ll sit down. 

Another fifteen minutes pass and the feeling only grows. She glances at her co-councillor again, but she can’t see his face from the angle of the bench. Before she can think better of it she’s standing and walking over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder with the intention of turning him towards her. However, the moment her hand touches his shoulder, her stomach drops. He’s so warm she can feel it through his shirt and, although they are standing in the warmth of the sun, that’s all they’re doing, there’s no reason he should be that warm. It’s a suffocating, dry kind of warmth too, one that makes her throat tighten and she steps round him, blocking the camper’s view if they were to look over. 

His eyes are cloudy and slightly unfocused, and he’s paler than he has been all day, swaying just slightly where he stands. His breathing is slightly wonky, like he can’t quite figure out a comfortable pattern and it takes him a while to track his gaze over to meet hers, and he shakes his head minutely, almost imperceptibly. Abruptly, she makes a decision. 

Whirling around to face the section of clearing that the campers are exploring, she raises her voice loud enough for all of them to hear. “Okay, David and I need to head inside to take care of some paperwork, so Quartermaster is going to take over for a little while. Do not give him any shit or I swear to god there will be hell to pay, understood?” She asks, waiting for nods before she’s satisfied. She turns back to face David, unsure if moving is a good idea right now given how pale he is. “Can you make it to our cabin?” She asks, quietly.

Something in David seems to click, and he tries to gather himself, swallowing hard. “Sorry, Gwen, I’m fine. There’s no need to worry, or- or bother the Quartermaster, I’m-”

“David I swear do not even try it. You look like you’re about the pass out.” She hisses, reaching her limit. “Now can you make it to our cabin or not?”

Chastised, David looks down, but nods anyway. “Yeah, I can.”

“Okay,” Gwen takes a deep breath, nodding as well. “I need you to stay here with the kids while I go and grab Quartermaster, can you do that?”

David nods again, but doesn’t protest when she leads him to the bench and sits him down. “Do not move.” She says sternly, then turns on her heel and rushes back to the mess hall, grabbing Quartermaster and dragging him out to the clearing, explaining on the way. He agrees in the weird, creepy way of his, and she has no doubt the campers will end up part of some crazy wilderness ritual, but she trusts him with the campers safety and that's enough for now. 

As they arrive at the activity spot, it’s just in time to see Max sauntering over to David, a glint in his eye that she doesn’t like. “Max!” She calls, intercepting him only a few feet away from the bench. “What do you need?”

Max regards her curiously, and she feels vaguely like prey. “What I need is to talk to David.” He says, and Gwen knows deep down that he has realised what’s going on.

She has two options now: lie and bullshit her way out of this, or tell the truth and hope Max doesn’t abuse the knowledge. 

Placing her hands on both of Max’s shoulders, she drops down to one knee, putting her at his level. “Look, Max, you and I both know why you can’t do that.” Max’s face lights up at the confirmation, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Gwen continues on, barrelling over him. “Max, listen to me, I need to get David inside, okay, I think this could be serious. I need to get him inside, and check his fever and maybe even take him to a hospital,” She says, looking into his eyes to try and drive her point home. She really isn’t sure if it will warrant a hospital trip, or even come close, but she thinks maybe that’s what Max needs to hear to back off a bit. “If I check him over, and he’s okay, I promise you that tomorrow you can have your fun with him, but you have to let me make sure he’s good first, okay?”

Max is silent for a second, eyes darting from Gwen to where David is slumped over, face in his hands now that Quartermaster is here and someone is keeping an eye on the campers. There is a solid ten seconds where Gwen thinks she’s made the wrong choice, that Max is going to grin and jump on the opportunity to trash the camp and make today even worse for David, but then he deflates and nods. “Fine. I’ll keep these assholes in check. But as soon as he’s feeling better there will be no mercy. So watch out.” He says, but Gwen has known Max long enough to know he’s concerned. Another beat of silence passes and then Max follows up quietly, “Do you…need help getting him inside?”.

A spark of surprise hits Gwen’s chest, alongside a feeling she thinks might be pride. She ruffles Max’s hair and he scowls, swatting at her hands before shoving his own hands back into his sweater pockets. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got him handled. You focus on finding those plants, okay?” She smiles at him, and Max pulls a face in return. 

“Ew, gross. I wasn’t worried.” He insists, and Gwen doesn’t argue it, just lets him walk back to his group.

Gwen forces herself to take some more deep breaths before she turns around, trying not to let her heart beat too fast when she finds David, arms braced on his knees and his head in his hands, eyes closed and breathing shakily. 

“David?” She asks softly, touching his shoulder. 

He lifts his head, blinking blearily at her, squinting in the sunlight. He doesn’t say anything.

“You ready to get inside?”

He nods shakily, standing up and immediately stumbling, but Gwen catches him quickly enough. Luckily, Quartermaster seems to have distracted the kids with some kind of dramatic retelling of a battle he had with some squirrels, and Gwen can’t quite tell if it’s made up or not, but it doesn’t matter because it means they don’t have an audience right now. (Except Max, and Gwen can feel his worried eyes tracking them, but she’ll have to deal with that later, because right now David needs to be inside and lying down, out of the heat of the sun and away from the stress of the children.)

She loops his arm around her shoulders, hooking her own around his waist and they begin to slowly walk - or stumble, in David’s case - back to the councillor’s cabin. What should have been a two minute journey becomes a five minute one, and the whole way Gwen can only think about how it got so bad so quickly. David is silent for the entirety of it, eyes closed and trusting Gwen to keep them on track. They’re barely ten feet from the door to the cabin when David finally speaks.

“Gwen, I think I’m going to pass out.” He chokes out, and she turns to find his face so pale he’s practically grey. 

“Shit!” She hisses, and she effectively drags him the rest of the way shoving the doors open, desperate to get him to his bed but he’s dropping like a stone the moment they’re inside, and it’s all she can do to stop his head from slamming down. His knees connect roughly with the wooden floors and she winces, knowing it’ll probably bruise, but there’s bigger things to worry about at that moment. 

Carefully, she lowers him to the ground and props his feet up on a nearby trunk, racking her brain desperately trying to recall her first aid training. She settles on checking his airways and, once satisfied, moves to the bathroom to grab their thermometer. It’s clear enough that he has a fever, but she needs to know what she’s dealing with and now is as good a time as any to check. 

The thermometer is an old thing, scuffed and peeling but it works and so she gently pushes it into his ear, waiting for it to beep. 103.1ºF. She sucks in a breath through her teeth. Not good.

Wasting no time, she gathers a washcloth and wets it with cold water, filling a glass at the same time. There’s a standing fan in the corner of their cabin which she manoeuvres to point at David and turns onto the lowest setting, trying not to shock his body too much, then places the washcloth on his forehead. 

Slowly, David stirs, eyes blinking open, cloudy and confused but he’s awake and a huge weight lifts off of her shoulders.

“David?”

“...Gwen? What- why am I on the floor?”

A flash of irritation hits her. “Because you’re an asshole who can’t wait two seconds to lay down in his bed and insists instead on passing out on the floor next to it.” She scowls, but the irritation is ebbing just quickly as it peaked, being replaced by concern.

“I passed out?” He asked, voice still slightly muddy from sleep.

“Yeah,” She sighs. “You did. And your fever is really high, as well. You scared me.” She admits, quietly.

David’s face crumples with guilt, and he tries to sit up but Gwen firmly pushes him back down. “Gwen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I know you didn’t David,” Gwen placates. “It’s not your fault, it's just a sucky situation. You should have said something sooner, though, David. You could have taken a break, or even taken the rest of the day off and we could’ve avoided all of this. I’d rather have to handle those kids by myself any day of the week than for you to get hurt.”

David nods, wincing. “I know. You’re right, I should have said something I just - I just have some things to work on.” He replies, quiet and raw. “But that shouldn’t affect you, I’m sorry.”

They look at each other for a moment longer before Gwen smiles, softly. “Hey, what are CBFLs for?” She asks, nudging his shoulder, and David smiles back, touched. “And besides,” she continues. “You deal with enough of my shit, only fair I deal with some of yours. Now, think you can handle getting up and into bed? You need proper rest and I’m not letting you do it on the floor.”

“Yeah, I’m actually feeling a bit better now.” David says.

Gwen snorts, holding out a hand to help him up. “Tell me that again when you’re upright.”

As expected, David immediately pales again the moment he’s stood, but he smiles shakily and manages to get to his bed fine, so Gwen doesn’t worry too much. Once he’s sitting with his back against his pillows, she hands him the glass of water and grabs some pills from her own bedside table. Dutifully, he downs them, and then lays down, damp cloth back on his forehead. It’s mid-afternoon and still light out, but Gwen just draws the curtains and turns off the light, leaving the bathroom light on with the door cracked to allow her to see without aggravating David’s head too much. 

Gwen pulls her armchair over to be near David’s bed, turning on Bob Ross with the volume almost muted, just loud enough for the man’s soothing voice to reach them. Beside her, David’s eyes are closed and his eyebrows pinched, but there’s a small smile on his face and he looks comfortable enough. For the first time all day, the feeling in her gut subsides, appeased, and she lets herself relax as well.

Two hours later, Gwen jolts awake, eyes flying around the room before settling on David, still fast asleep where she’d left him. Bob Ross is still playing idly, and she grabs the remote to turn it off. As quietly as she can, Gwen finds the thermometer and takes David’s temperature again, breathing out slowly when it reads 100.5ºF. Still a fever, but lower. Despite herself, she runs her hand through David’s bedhead of red hair, shaking her head and then sitting back down.

She has just settled back in her chair when there’s a quiet knock at the door. Opening it reveals Max, shuffling awkwardly. “He’s okay.” Gwen smiles softly, deciding to cut the kid some slack, knowing Max isn’t going to outright ask about David.

“Pshh, I don’t care. I just came to tell you Quartermaster is doing a shit job. He taught us how to fight a deer and now he’s making us wash the outside of our cabins.” He complains, but Gwen can see a bit of relief on his face. 

“Hm, not a bad idea. Maybe I need to get him to plan a couple of our activities next week. The cabin thing, not the deer thing.” She clarifies, seeing Max’s face. “Maybe tomorrow you can complain to David yourself.”

Max nods, satisfied with the knowledge that David isn’t too ill, and Gwen knew that was what he’d been waiting to hear. “Yeah, I will. Uh, but I should get back before Quartermaster realises I’m gone. He’s way less of a pushover than you and David.” 

Gwen rolls her eyes, but waves him off. “See you tomorrow, Max.”

“Night, Gwen.” 

She closes the door, still smiling softly. 

Sometimes, the kids were okay.

[crabs-in-a-trenchcoat]

eye of the storm chapter three :)

When the turtle woke up the first thing that hit him was the smell. The rank scent of old trash filled his nose and made his eyes water. The next thing that hit him was the realization that he couldn't move. His body was heavy and a dull tiredness wore down his nerves. His eyes fluttered open and closed in alarm. 

“He should be around here somewhere,” a muffled voice said. 

It was one of the voices from last night, a feminine one, her words had a soft, almost motherly tone to them. 

“How can you be sure?” another familiar voice said, masculine and wounded. 

“That dart I hit him with last night, it takes a while to kick in but it will keep him down for a long time. He ran off in this direction, and he didn't pass out in the open so I'm sure he hid in an alley,” she said. 

“Right,” a higher pitched male voice said, “I'm sure he ran in a straight line.”

“Hey Donnie, Karai knows what she's talking about, just check the dumpster,” the other man said.

“Leo he's not going to be in there, I'm telling you guys he's long gone.” That voice was getting closer and closer and the turtle trapped in a dumpster wiggled around more and more trying to get any one of his muscles to move. 

He could not hear footsteps, for whoever it was, knew how to move quietly. His fingers and toes wiggled anxiously and the feeling of terror was slowly replacing the heavy sluggish feeling.

He shut his eyes tight as the dumpster lid was opened up and fresh air was the only thing that made him feel any better.

“Mikey!” he called excitedly and a hand touched him.

“See, I told you so,” the woman sneered. 

“Yeah, yeah, just call Bishop.” A second hand grabbed him and his body was pulled up. Why was he being touched? He could feel the excess electricity flow into whoever dared touch him, why weren't they being shocked? He knew the current was weak but it should still be a deterrent. 

Why could he hear everything?

Every movement.

Every muscle twitch.

Every nerve that fired into that massive brain.

It was so loud, all of it. So many electronic signals that traveled all around their body and why was he hearing it? 

Let go. He begged silently. I'm trying to hurt you, let go. Please, it's so loud. 

“Isn't he shocking you?” a new voice, not one from last night, said. It was clearly a man but it was fruity and higher pitched. Then a new hand and a new body full of loud nerves and more space for his charge to flow into, touched him. “Yow!” 

“Oh yeah, stay back Casey, I'm used to small shocks like this but I don't think you are,” the person who was holding him said and set his body down. His stomach was exposed and growling madly. 

Man he was hungry. Wait, if he was feeling more parts of his body again then maybe whatever he was hit with was slowly wearing off. He fought the urge to flex his hands. 

Some deep instinct inside him told him to keep still. Just pretend a little longer. Escape when you can. Do not give up the element of surprise. 

He wasn't sure why he knew this. Why it just came to him. 

“Oh Mikey,” the first male voice whispered to him, “I swear this will be over soon, when you wake up, I promise it will be in the lair.”

“Ok guys, Raph’s group will be here soon, then this finally ends,” she said and the turtle heard faint metal taps on the ground as she walked closer.

He tried his best not to move too much, why were they still hunting him?   What did he do? And what was going to happen when Raph’s group got here? How much time did he have? He swallowed the lump in his throat and his feet twitched. He tried to quell the shaking in his arms. 

“So Mikey has electric powers now?” Casey- who he guessed was Casey - asked.

“Not for long, once Bishop gets here with the E.D.C Mikey should be fine.” The girl answered.

“Except for his memory,” the deeper male voice said, farther away than the other two. 

“Come on, Leo,” the second voice was getting fainter, “I'm positive he just has a concussion, he'll be fine.” 

“Man I just can't believe he got so messed up,” Casey said and the turtle heard his loud footsteps stomping towards the others. 

The voltage in his body was weak. He wasn't sure he had enough inside him to become pure electric energy if he needed to shrink himself down and speed away. He wondered how long it would take him to be back up to full power. How fast could he move until then?

I need to eat first, he thought as a hunger pang hit him again. 

He wearily opened one eye up. From what he could see two turtles and two humans were standing shells turned to him. It took a large amount of effort for him to twist his body and hold his head up. Everything was spinning slightly and he shook out the grogginess. 

He shut his eyes and laid back down, then with one push of motivation he managed to pull his heavy body up. 

The other end of the alley was closed. But there was a fire escape, he limped over to it and slowly climbed up despite his body begging him to go back to bed. His feet barely held his weight and he struggled to pull himself up to the roof. 

Once up there he had to rest, it was a wonder no one in the alley noticed he was gone yet, they were talking about what to do with memory and how to fix someone. The sky was dark and gray, the wind was picking up and it looked like it would be one hell of a storm.   

A van pulled up close by the alley’s entrance, a girl with red hair, two big lizards and a third turtle jumped out of its back and three of the same man came out the front. One had sunglasses and a huge gun looking thing.

He pulled himself away from the roof’s edge. With a deep breath he stood back up and looked for somewhere to hide, amazed at how quiet his body naturally moved. 

To Donatello it was the strangest thing. One second poor Michelangelo was passed out in the alley. And the next… he vanished. 

Didn't even make a sound, so at least he remembered all his ninja training. Maybe that was a good sign; that his memory might be intact... in some places. 

“Well he had to have gone up there,” Leo pointed up at the roof. 

“He's not back in the dumpster,” Casey hollered and the lid slammed down with a thud. 

“I just don't understand, he should still be asleep,” Karai huffed, “I hit him with the equivalent of a horse tranquilizer…well to a human anyway.”

“He's a mutant, it must have gone through his bloodstream quicker than you thought it would,” Donnie called from the fire escape. 

Up on the roof he looked around, no Mikey, just a water tower and some pipes coming off of it. “He's gone isn't he?” Raph called, joining his brother on the roof.

“Yeah,” Donnie sighed. 

“Damn it!” Raphael screeched and slammed his foot down. “Why weren't you keeping an eye on him?” 

“It's not my fault!” Donnie shot back completely offended, “what took you guys so long to get here?”

“We were across town!” Raph threw his hands up and Leo jumped up from the ladder and walked up to them.

“Guys! We won't find him by yelling, we’ll all split up and look in four directions, he can't have gotten far,” Leo said.

At this point Casey and April had gotten on the roof, Karai was still down in the alley, peering into the dark corners of it. 

“Sal, Mona and Bishop will stay on the ground, circle the area, and everyone else will pair up and head in different directions.” Leo commanded. 

“Guys wait,” Donnie said, “does anyone else feel that?” 

“Feel what?” Casey asked.

There was a strong buzz in the air and Donnie swore he felt his arms tingling. “It's like the air is humming?” he said unsure.

“It's strong over here,” Raph mumbled by the water tower. 

Everyone on the roof wandered over to the water tower and stood in questioning silence. Donnie noticed that April and Casey had goosebumps. 

“I think I read about this,” he started, “last night I was researching lightning and electrical properties and I remember reading about how the air might feel fuzzy and you can taste metal if lightning is about to strike…Guys! Move away from the water tower!”

Donnie gave Casey a shove and scrambled to get to the other side of the roof. Should they get lower? What did that article say again? How long could this feeling last before lightning struck? April’s hair was standing up and Donnie wondered how long they had. 

“Do you think it's Mikey?” Leo questioned and pulled Raph away from the tower. 

“He's long gone, I think it's just the storm,” Raph said. “We should get off the roof.”

A figure suddenly stood up on the water tower and Donnie could only just register it was Mikey before a bolt of lightning struck him and thunder roared in Donnie’s ears. The explosion of heat and sound and light made him crumple to the ground in shock. 

“Mikey!” Leo called and sprinted back to the tower. 

Michelangelo swayed back and forth before falling off, smoking slightly as he hit the ground. “Haha,” Mikey began to laugh as Donnie hurried, running up to him.

“hahHAHRAAGGHHHHHahaha,” Michelangelo screamed and giggled and cried and laughed. 

Donatello reeled back away from him. He looked insane. He was laughing wildly as he screamed in pain and tears cascaded out of his eyes and his head was smoking and his limbs shook madly.

Mikey trembled as he stood up, body heaving for air. Donnie was absolutely horrified. He wasn't sure what to do, he couldn't touch Mikey, he couldn't give him any support, he could only watch on in terror and listen to his pained screams.

There was nothing he could do, Donnie was helpless. Maybe that was what was so scary, he was helpless.

“What happened?” Leo called and pushed Casey back from touching him.

“Well he got struck by lightning, and I think his system overloaded,” Donnie cried watching small ripples of electricity come off of his brother. He had stopped scream-laughing and was now just silently crying and panting. Smoke rippled off of him and his eyes were wild and bloodshot. 

“Mikey,” Raph said softly, “it's going to be ok just hang on, Bishop is almost up here. He’ll fix you right up.” 

“No-not I don't want to…get away from me,” he hissed in response and stumbled backwards. Small bursts of lightning zapped down his shell and his body buzzed loudly. He shook his head and grabbed at his left eye. 

“It's ok, no ones going to hurt you,” Leo added. 

Mikey was staring at something above eye level, Donnie followed his gaze and noticed black power lines running parallel to the street. 

“Mikey don't,” he warned, “please we just want to help you, don't run.”

Mikey reached out to it.

“Mikey no!” Donnie called and his little brother stumbled forwards and jumped off the roof. For a second Donnie was scared that he missed and would fall and get hurt. 

He wasn't sure if he was relieved or not when he became pure crackling energy and shot down the wire faster than the bolt of lightning he had been hit with. 

“He's gone,” Donnie whispered.

A whirlwind of emotions suddenly hit him. 

Sadness at missing a chance to get him back.

Heartbreak at realizing if they did get rid of his powers he still didn't have a clue who they were.

Rage at this whole situation.

Fear that they would never bring him back.

Why? Why did any of this have to happen? Why did that stupid overgrown space roach have to invade the planet? Why did that newt have to come back? Why did he have to electrify Mikey?

And why? Why did Mikey sacrifice himself like that in the first place?

Over the past twenty-nine hours Donnie had lost Mikey once to the Newtralizer, twice to the warship, a third and fourth, fifth and who knows how many times when they were trying to catch him yesterday.

And now again.

How many times would his little brother slip through his fingers? 

Donnie just wanted him to be ok. He needed him to be ok. 

Donatello sat in his lab hunched over a scanner. It was supposed to detect large quantities of energy signatures around the city but with the wild electrical storm going on right now, it was impossible to see if it worked or not. 

“Guys did you see the news!?” a panicked yell came from the middle of the lair. 

Donnie recognized it as April's voice and rushed out. Leo and Raph were already gathered by the T.V. The sound of rain cascading into the sewer system echoed around. 

“Somehow he managed to quote, overload the ship's power and cause the reactor to blow.” a reporter's upbeat voice blared and there was a picture of Mikey on the screen. It was a close up of his face, smiling as he charged towards a ship with energy swirling around him. 

“We're on the news…” Donnie whispered in alarm. No one was supposed to know they existed. And now? 

“This isn't good,” Raph said with an edge of rage in his voice. 

“Mutants in New York! There were some sightings before but this is clear evidence!” the reporter said cheerfully. “Heroes from the shadows that fight evil! Who could have ever guessed that they would be good?”

“Be good!?” Raph screeched. 

Donnie and Leo were quietly seething beside him. 

“This is Warren Stone, and before I sign off, I have a special guest that would like to say a few words,” the news switched from the station to what looked like the back of a van. Bishop was standing in the center of the screen.

“This situation is difficult,” Bishop started, “yes mutants exist, yes the one turtle mutant is responsible for saving the earth along with his brothers. However… it would be best if the public stays away from him, he can be dangerous. Do not approach, instead call 111-12-”

“Damn it!” Raph screamed. 

Donatello felt sick, they saved the world and they were still considered dangerous and by Bishop of all people. 

“So mutants are dangerous after all?” the reporter asked, and the screen split views of the two, Bishop had the gall to look uncomfortable. 

“Well, no, not all of them, just that one, as of now. The Earth Protection Force is trying to capture and rehabilitate-”

“Capture?!” Leo hissed.

“So you heard it here folks, Mutants aren't heroes and you should fear them, this is Warren Stone, with channel six news, signing off!”

“Wait, that's not what I said-” Bishop was cut off.

“Are you serious?!” Raph was fuming as he spoke. Leo was sharing his rage.

But for some reason Donatello wasn’t that mad, this was almost exactly what he expected. The disappointment still stung. 

“I'll be in my lab,” he sighed.

“Donnie wait-” April called after him.

“I'll be in my lab,” he repeated and closed its heavy doors. He sunk down in a swivel seat and buried his face in his hands. 

He always knew him and his brothers would be exposed like this. He knew that one day they would save the world in front of everyone, and still as much as he wanted to hope against it, he knew this was more or less how people would react.

And the worst part, Mikey was just out there.

All alone , and confused and scared and probably starving and out in this miserable weather. What if people hurt him? What if they got scared and tried to attack him?

And what if Mikey fought back? 

What if Mikey killed someone in the state he was in? Then what would people think? 

He swept everything on the desk to the ground with a crash. “It's not fair.” He hissed under his breath. 

Why did Bishop have to say anything? It's not fair. It's not fair… none of it was.

Bitter anger gave way to frustrated tears. And that drove him to work harder on the scanner he was working on. 

He had to find Mikey before anyone else did. 

The power of the city was in him, around him. He was it and it was him. No sight or smell or sound but the feeling of flying and the sensation of energy. 

Every single nerve was on fire and weighed down by fatigue all at the same time. His brain was melting because he wanted to sleep for days and run a marathon. He had so much energy from the lightning bolt and all he wanted to use it for was sleep. 

It swirled inside his body. Each nerve tingled with the electric potential. 

The past ten minutes had been nothing but a blur, calmness up high then he panicked and there was so much going on. Out of nowhere he just had so much extra energy, it went into him so quickly and he didn't process it yet.

Then when the extreme suddenness of everything wore off he found himself riding an electrical current. He let it carry him far away from the others. He was running out of energy fast. Whatever hit him was wearing off.

The turtle’s body tingled heavily as he was spit out of the power line and onto the hard ground. He lay on the ground dazed as everything buzzed, his muscles twitched and his body shook.

It was becoming more clear to him as he lay on the concrete breathing heavily. He was up on the water tower. Then the people that had spent the past day chasing him all ran out from under it, that made him panic and he stood up. 

The energy from the storm above had somewhere to go, channeled through him. It left him stunned because his own energy was low. The influx caused him to jump into a power line and he rode it until the excess left him.

But where was he now? 

…where was he before even?

He collected himself. Looking around his surroundings he saw that he was on a street and people stared at him. He stood up wearily to face the crowd that had gathered. He couldn't make out individual faces or features but he felt their eyes on him.

Unfamiliar. 

They were unfamiliar and he took solace in that fact. 

“Hello?” he asked. 

The people flinched at his voice and moved away from him. 

“It's one of them,” a man said. 

He turned to face the person that spoke, “one of whats?”

“You helped stop the invasion right?” another younger voice spoke out excitedly.

“Oh umm…” he trailed off.

“Of course he is, just look at him, he has to be,” a woman said.

“Tell us, what's the name of the hero that saved this city!” the first man exclaimed.

“My name?” he echoed. 

Did he have one? He had to…right. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't recall anything that had happened to him before yesterday. 

There had to be people that knew him, friends, family, someone. But who? Where was his home? 

What was his name?

M…something. Yes but, it was an artist. Of that he was sure, but what one? It was a famous, well known name. Not wanting to keep the crowd waiting he said the first one that came to him.

“My name is…Monet, like the painter.” 

Oohs and ahhs from the crowd solidified the name in acknowledgment. 

He felt…almost lighter, Monet let his shoulders relax, and the nervousness in his body melted away.  

Now that he found a name for himself he wondered how easy it would be to find a home. Maybe he already had one? He wondered what it was like. 

Monet clutched his stomach as it growled. 

“Are you hungry? Let me buy you something to eat,” the first man said and offered his hand. Monet smiled but refused to take it. 

“Alright,” he cheered as he cautiously moved around the crowd of people. 

He followed the man to a restaurant nearby, the name of the place didn't stick with him but the food was delicious and filled him up with warmth. Monet ate quickly, not remembering the last time he had eaten anything. 

“You sure are hungry huh?” the man asked, “I guess saving the world will do that to you.”

“Hmm?” Monet hummed, not sure what the man was saying. He was too busy slurping up noodles to even think. 

“Thank you by the way, for all that you've done. My wife and daughter were taken by those aliens and you saved them. You saved so many people,” the faceless man said with pure admiration in his voice.

“Uhh sure,” Monet responded with a mouthful of ramen. 

“You are a true hero.”

Monet looked up at the man. He would never remember his face but those words would follow him for a while.  

But what if he wasn't a hero? 

If he was a hero why would he have been chased throughout the city. They had a gun, a powerful one. He could tell it had immense power just by being near it. 

Monet felt guilt. 

Was he a hero? 

He was…who was he? 

“Hey, are you alright?” the man asked and reached out. Monet felt the voltage in his body flow out the second it had somewhere else to go. All the nerves in the man’s body screamed with pain. Monet could feel the man being hurt. 

Hurt by him. Hurt by the hero. 

There was a scream and flashes of white and crackling sounds and he hurt someone. Monet quickly recoiled and threw the man’s hand off of him. Smoke drifted upwards and skin was red and charred in places. He was breathing heavily while Monet was perfectly calm.

He looked around the ramen bistro they stopped to eat in. People. All around. Staring. They had no eyes but he felt their sharp gazes on him. 

Monet turned back to the man that he had just fried. No, it was clear to him now, he was no hero. That man was mistaken. 

“I'm not a hero, I'm not sure who I am. Maybe it's a monster. Maybe that's all I've ever been.” 

Monet walked out of the restaurant, eyes hidden behind fog watched him leave, “thank you for the food, and…I'm sorry.”

He strolled around the street, the sun’s light buried under deep clouds. Thunder roared in the distance and it warned of rain. A drop here and there patterned down on Monet’s skin.

Bright lights and sounds caught his attention. He turned and pressed his hands up to a glass window. T.v’s all tuned to one channel were on and playing the news. The static tickled against his hand. 

“New York saved by turtles? That's right folks! The alien invasion was stopped by four turtles, who have allegedly saved this city countless times before! Eye witness testimonies all recall large mutant turtles by the ship shortly before it blew up!”

Then the screens all played videos of four large green blobs running around and then a huge hulking mosquito-like building crashing around the city. There was also footage of people encased in egg sacks and damage to the city. 

“One of the four turtles is responsible for blowing up the ship itself, Michelangelo is the true hero of the day! Somehow he managed to quote, overload the ship's power and cause the reactor to blow.”

A picture of who Monet guessed was Michelangelo was displayed. He was smiling as bright as the sun and his face was a cheerful orange. 

Now that, Monet thought, is a true hero. 

He turned away from the screens and walked off, a storm would break soon and he didn't want to be caught out in the rain. It was already beginning to drizzle and drops were cold on his skin.

Monet walked until he came across grass, by now the rain was coming down fast and it was chilly as it hit him. The wind was also strong which didn't help with his shivering.

Barely being able to see three feet in front of him the turtle ran until he was under trees, their many branches shaking in the bitter wind. He crouched down by the base of a large oak and curled up on himself. 

“Atleast,” Monet mumbled, “I'm not hungry.” 

Lightning crashed in the sky and warned him of their power. All that voltage up there, Monet could sense its strength. He could almost hear the lightning. Feel its charge.

Its electric hum filled the air around him and he huddled closer to the tree. There was no path that awesome power could take to reach him, he was more or less safe under the leaves. Booms of thunder stopped him from sleeping and so did the cold wetness that seeped into his bones.

Monet wanted to go home. 

He wondered what that home looked like. Warm and dry. There would always be a fireplace lit and so many soft blankets and pillows. The air wouldn't be filled with a dull drone and it would be quiet. 

But it wouldn't be dark, no, there would be big windows to fill up the house with sunlight. Oh! It would also be out in the woods, away from all this stupid energy. No cars or tv’s or powerlines. It would be quiet. 

And he would have a family too. 

A huge burst of intense light and a ground shaking crash and the feeling of too much energy filled up his senses as a bolt of lightning smacked the earth right in front of his face.

Monet reeled back and pressed himself up against the tree.

The chaos of the storm wanted him badly. Monet just wanted to go home. To be dry, to be around others, to be safe and warm. 

He wished for a distant home he had forgotten all about.      

[hongchenzhu]

This is part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 3.5

Also pls read the chapters in order, cause there is a lot of information in chapter leading up to this one

Also same as other chapter, if you don't like the outfit I describe then change it I don't mind, same with height the only thing that can't be changed is the eye's and hair cause they are plot related.

Also swearing

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Timeline might not match with the Manga)

“My logic is very simple if you are not dead by the end of this training session. Then I will make you work to death.”

WTF, who are you

Yup, that's me. You're properly wondering how I ended up in this situation? Well…

24 hours prior

“Congratulations on passing the 3rd selection. But bad news, your soccer careers are in danger of disappearing forever like worthless trash, along with Blue Lock.”

Murmurs of disbelief started among the boys

“But good work, playing against the world all-stars was quite the experience, right?” Ego display on the screen

“A lot happened since the third selection, I plan to narrow you down to five players, but… the plan has changed. The main problem is the bigshots of Japanese soccer are trying to put kibosh on Blue Lock, so I decide to send them a challenge.”

A holographic appeared on the screen.

“This means the next selection, which is done in three weeks will define the outcome of Blue Lock’s future.” Ego pushed his glasses towards his face, the light reflecting off the glass giving him a sinister look. “If you win this game, you can steal the honour of representing Japan at the U-20 World Cup.”

A series of murmurs started again “What” “No way” “For real”

“Therefore the time has come, my lumps of talents. To bring a new era.”

Small time skip - after the groups have been chosen (Cause I’m lazy 👍)

“For the first few days, you’ll have matches between each other after that you will start training, for the next two weeks.” Ego’s on the screen again telling group A what the plan is for the next three weeks “Of course, there will still be matching between to see how much you have improved.”

Isagi raised his hand.”Ego-san” “Yes, Yoichi?” “Who are we training with?”

Ego’s sadistic smile appeared on his face again “you’ll know who your trainer is when the time comes.” Shivvers were shot down the spine of people in the room, including Rin and Shindou. Just then a female appeared behind Ego “Ego, there is no need to be that harsh on them.” An elegant woman wearing a large hat came into view, with the hat obscuring her face but her straight posture exposed who she is to Isagi. ‘!!! Y/n is going to our trainer??? . . . We’re fucked,’

Another magic time skip cause I can’t be bothered writing the different matches ✌️

Day 1 of training

Everyone in team 1 was chilling, more like waiting cause ego called them into the meet room. “Hello, my diamond in the rough, how was your match? Not bad… great. Today marks the start of your training camp. And who is your t-” the screen closed

“That dame bastard, so annoying.” A new voice appeared in the room,

“Ahh” “Who?” “Ahh,” “WTF”

A Tall, white-haired female who clearly wasn't here before stood in the middle of the room. “Hello” waving her hand “I am your trainer for the next 2 weeks”

Murmurs began to start “now, to officially start this training camp, start by running 50 laps around this room”

“What?” “Do what?”

“Start now, or no dinner.” this caused people to start running. ‘I knew that would work, no one would reject not having dinner.’

“Oi, old hang you do I have to run,” Shido shouted

Y/n turned around and look at Shido through the pitch-black glasses she wears. “Because Ryusei Shido, it’s for you to get stronger.” Shido could feel her gaze through her glasses “Now get running or you’ll run another 5- laps”

Out of fear, Shido began running again, this time faster as he could feel her gaze on him almost making two holes in the back of his head.

Isagi was out of breath by lap 34 Shido was the second to finish, after Rin, and Isagi finished at number 8 and everybody slowly after that.

“Great, now that everyone is done with the warmup, I should do a little introduction.” Y/n clapped her hands as the last few finish up “I am Gojo Y/n your new trainer until the U-20 Japan match, nice to meet you” Everyone looked at her “Now, I will spend two hours each day for the next two and push you as far as you can after all” A shiver was sent down everyone’s spin… again almost like there fucked “My logic is very simple if you are not dead by the end of this training session. Then I will make you work to death.” In the sweetest voice anyone could have, but saying the most brutal thing.

And this was how most people in group 1 would die after every training.

Time skip … again

In the main presentation room, all 45 participants were present. Ego was on the stage. “When a person focuses on something, they can get so absorbed in their work they don’t realise the passing of time.” Ego’s tone was very stable and calm “taking enjoyment in the process, their brain enters a state of excitement. To put it simply, that is the ‘flow’.”

The Flow is a state of extreme focus where you are immersed in what you are doing.

“Now that Ego is done with his presentation, let me introduce you to another phenomenon called ‘curses’” Y/n stood on the stage in a black long-sleeve kind of body-hugging long dress with a long black coat, black heels and her signature black glasses. (Again if you don’t like this outfit then you can change it)

“Curses, are a race of spiritual beings created from negativity. Now everyone in this room has curse energy, but only a selected few can weld it by will.” A cart of glasses rolled toward Y/n “here, take one and passed it on.”

After everyone got a pair of glasses Y/n started talking again “Put the glasses on before we continue.” A movement of kids putting their glasses on. “These glasses have been imbued with curse energy, therefor you should be able to see the orb that I am creating.” Y/n held her hand open and a red ball appeared in her palm. “This is a form of curse energy, normally you wouldn’t be able to see it but since you are wearing the glasses it allowed you to see it. And that's what the flow is like a sudden surge of curse energy that gives you a push in what you are doing. Isagi!”

“Hai”

“Is a perfect example, he momentarily entered the state of the flow which means he had a burst of curse energy in physical strength and most importantly, the firing of neurons which allowed him to have a full spital awareness of the court.”

Yukimiya put his hand up “Yes, you”

“Y/n - san, how did you know Isagi momentarily entered the flow?”

“Yukimiya, to those who could weld curse energy at will we also have the ability to see curses, in a matter of fact if you look at the end of the room” Y/n walked off the stage while the boy’s head turned to see the back of the room. “What is that!” “That thing!” “I… want to vomit”

“This gents is a curse and as a jujutsu sorcerer, it’s my job to excoriate it.”

‘That thing’ thought Isagi ‘is similar to the one I saw in the training room’

“But like skills, different sorcerers have different ways to excoriate a curse.” Y/n walked towards the curse at the end of the room. “First grade huh,” she whispered, with a click of her finger, the head of the curse turned into a splatter with purple goo covering the corner that was trapped in. Everyone else in the room looked at her, more like her back standing tall and proud it seems like this is her everyday job.

“Now you can keep the glasses, but if you don’t want to see this creature when you are going to bed I suggest only wearing them when you are analysing your opponents.” Her glasses slid down a bit, allowing her eye to be visible. Bright blue eyes, like the reflection of the sky staring back at the player, the brightest object in this dark corner that seems to peer into the souls of the living. Unnerving and unwavering of the eyes looking back. “Right now get out and start training for the round coming up.”

Time skip to one day before the match

“Isagi, good luck on your match tomorrow” “Y/n why are you telling me this now” “Isagi, I have a mission tomorrow so I won’t be able to tell you that, I’ll try getting to the match as fast as I can after finishing off my mission, ok”

Y/n raised her hand and touched Isagi’s head, ruffling his hair “Isagi I know you can lead this team to win, you will become the star of this show.” Her bright blue eyes look into Isagi’s eyes “Because Isagi, you are similar to us. Your eye has traces of curse energy more than the average human but less than curse users, if you can somehow manipulate it at will then this will help you in the near future.” Y/n then touched Isagi’s face, her eyes began to water making her already mesmerising eyes even more ethereal.

“Wait for me Isagi, and let me see you win this match.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After this is offically start of the U-20 arc the arc might be split up into different parts to make my life easier.

[needleandstory]

My muse is dead. Tell me how yours is dealing with it. @scxrytxles

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah, Jer, I'll be fine." Xander waved off Jeremy, who lingered and peered in around the bathroom door.

"If you're sure. Call if you need anything."

"I know, I will."

Finally, Jeremy relented, closing the bathroom door, and Xander sagged against the counter he leaned on, holding himself up on both forearms. Unlike his, Jeremy's apartment was blessed with an elevator, but getting from the van to here had still been a trial by fire. All the hiking had caught up to him: every bone and muscle fibre in his legs ached, from the soles of his feet to the meat of his hips. Worse, trying to push through it was impossible: any time he found himself starting to grow breathless, he'd just as quickly grow light-headed; the world would spin; and the whole group would be forced to stop and wait for him. Even Cyrus had given him advice.

And that didn't even account for the injuries Nil hadn't fully healed. Every brush of his tattered clothes against fresh flesh or scab stung; pain ran currents from his soul to his body at the site of each injury. In a couple places, he felt warm dampness seeping onto his skin.

It was important to clean himself. It would protect him from infection. The dried blood stunk, and the mud was hardly better. The dirt itched. Yet, when he gazed into the shower, he felt every part of him cringing away.

He persevered. Limping over to turn on the hot water, he dropped heavy on the toilet as he began to peel off layers of clothes. First, his battle vest. Nil had offered to help repair it, but there was hardly any point: it was in tatters--nothing but the hilt remained of the sword painted on the back--and what little remained was stained a dark ochre.

Is all that mine? The thought made him taste bile, and he threw it away behind him, into the trash. His shirt followed suit without a second look, as well as his pants--as soon as he could get them off.

Screaming that drowned out everything. Hot, salty blood gurgling in his throat and staining his teeth. Warm wetness seeping down his torso--funny, there was something wrong about that. Didn't matter. He had to get up. The monster had Chester. His limbs felt so heavy. He had to get up.

Tears ran down his face as he came back to himself, and he hurriedly wiped them away, smearing the clean lines they had made. "Fuck," he whispered and turned his attention to the tub, as if that would be any sort of distraction.

The moment he set foot in there, this venture would well and truly be over. No more second chances. No last minute turnarounds. No more magic, or monsters, or Alice. He clawed at his throat, feeling the lump growing. He would go back to his normal life, back to before he found his Honeybee, back to being just Nadia Xander. He had given it everything. He was willing to let her hate him. And it hadn't been enough. It wasn't enough. Alice was gone, and that thing was still out there.

Gasping sobs choked out through gritted teeth. "Dammit," he whispered, voice shaking. Slamming his fist on the wall, his voice caught on a shout, "DAMMIT!"

He clutched himself as he cried, trying to hold it back even as it came pouring out. "Dammit, dammit, dammit," he gasped out. He was such a failure.

He gave up, letting the rushing emotions take him. Not good enough for Alice, not good enough for his friends, not good enough for those who he'd dared to give hope, and most of all, not remotely good enough for himself. No more strange little stories, no more soft songs, no more peculiar questions or trinkets left after a lesson. She was gone. There was no going back.

After a time, the tears abated. He stood up. He glanced back, and he wondered dully if Jeremy had heard and now hovered just outside the door. (He hiccuped.) It didn't matter. He had procrastinated long enough.

He got into the shower.

[leelatea]

Round 1 has been completed!

Uh... so, my goal for this round (mainly the round without any babies) was to have them fish for their lives. They would keep the less than §10 fishies to use for food, and would sell the more expensive ones.

With the big fish money, each tribe gets to buy 1 starter pack of fruits, veggies, and herbs. (I never really use these for food. Also so few of them are even in season for the never-ending summer the neanderthals have to survive through. They are more for the income.) Right now, each tribe only gets one of each, so hopefully they get a plant in season, or else they're... uh... they don't get any...

And... what else...right! Each day, a call is made to all the other tribes to come hang out. So, hopefully friendships can be made, which I plan to use when it comes to their children's marriages. Perhaps...

So... how do I want to do this?... Um... from the beginning? Sounds good. Here we go!

First family up: the Pamadam Tribe. (da red ones) Jiall & Gniba.

Overall, they had a slow start comparatively to other tribes around them. They ended the round with §36 in the proverbial bank. It took them a hot minute to catch anything. They did catch 2 cowplant berries... so, maybe that can come up with future descendants or something.

They got (in their packs): 3 bananas, 3 peppers, 8 parsley, and 3 sage for their plants, and sold 5 fish.

Next! The Lumesh Tribe. (yellow) Chedu & Irrig.

These two: scaredy cats. The big one, on the right: terrified of the dark. So, no night fishing, which... wasn't great. Also, thunderstormed almost 2 out of the four days, so, they wouldn't fish in the rain either. But, they did manage to get enough money to get all their gardening packs.

They got: 3 bananas, no veggies, 4 parsley, and 6 sage. They sold 8 fishies, and ended the round with §135. They have also got to harvest once so far... so, not so bad.

Wow... I got really bad at taking photos halfway through... whoops. Anyways...

Next! The Zival Tribe! (the blue ones) Etu & Croc.

Etu... loves digging in the trash. Loves it. Moving on. These two also had a really good first round. No hiccups really. During one of the thunderstorms, a cool rock was left. Added that to one of the many piles in the house. Kinda cool.

They got: 3 bananas, 3 peppers, 8 basil, and 3 sage for their plant packs. Not bad. Also, sold 9 fish and were able to harvest once for a grand total of §413 at the end of the round! 🥳

Only 2 more familes. We can do this!

This is literally the only one I have of them... I was trying to take a pic of the lump of clay turned into a teapot... I'm terrible at this... by the way, EVERYONE LOVES THE LUMP OF CLAY! Its... like... amazing to them...

The Rhosh Tribe! (GREEN!) Raan & Ubod.

So, Ubod hates children. So, hates the entirety of being pregnant... so... this is going to be awful for them. (I'm so sorry.) Another good round. Not top dog or anything, but not too shabby.

They got: no fruits (I believe they are the only family without bananas), 3 peppers, 8 parsley, and 4 basil. They sold 9 fish, harvested once, and ended the round with §234.

I took photos of these two together... but there isn't one where Umli isn't naked in them... So, I'll settle for this group shot (which I'm actually quite fond of). I will do better next round and get good photos (I will!).

The Murad Tribe! (black) Umli & Dheesi (not pictured).

Umli... is a character. Talks to walls. Takes showers outside. And, enjoys their body. A lot. But! On the plus side! They are super in love with Dheesi! They are adorable.

They got: 3 bananas, 3 peppers, 8 parsley, and 4 basil for their starter plants. They sold 9 fishies, and got to harvest crops once. They ended the round with §347.

So, we'll end this rainy round with that. Next time, many babies are anticipated and I'm sure chaos will ensue.

See you next time. Bye!✌️

[lizardsfromspace]

Apparently there's a movement called "blockout2024" that is blocking celebs for many reasons, but I've seen it on here from people saying you should block every celeb at the Met Gala, and also a hundred more who nebulously "haven't done enough". This list includes everyone, including Gigi Hadid. You know, the Palestinian-American who is one of the most outspoken pro-Palestinian-freedom celebrities? In fact, it has several Palestinian and pro-Palestinian people prominently on it, lumped in with actual supporters of the genocide against them, and classed as one and the same

Obviously this is a stupid - no wait people are defending it

This isn't even thinking imperfect allies are worse than enemies. The idea that Palestinians who are extremely vocal about supporting Palestine should be dismissed as gross, awful, tone deaf people who need to be blocked and ostracized for attending an event that wasn't even being boycotted is just. What are you even doing.

Gigi Hadid, who donated all of her 2022 earnings to Ukraine and Palestine. Gigi Hadid, who has received death threats over her support for Palestine & who had family members doxxed. Gigi Hadid, who needs to be held to account for...attending a museum fundraiser? Eurovision was being boycotted for very specific reasons, this one is a bunch of people on social media saying "well it's a bit Hunger Games isn't it" because they have the secret BDS list that has all the celebrities they already hate on the top of it. In this case there's also evidence like "she was holding a Starbucks cup in one magazine photoshoot" & "she may be in the background of this photo someone took at a Starbucks", definite proof that she doesn't care and is secretly evil and lying about everything so she can maybe stand in the background of a Starbucks

How can the type of slacktivist that constantly calls everything a psyop look at a list saying "hey, go ahead and block all these pro-Palestinian activists! Make sure to trash them as awful people too. This is violating BDS guidelines btw" and go, this is legit and I need to defend it to the death. They're seriously not only not questioning that but coming up with reasons to justify it? Not the SLIGHTEST bit of pause about anonymous uncited internet lists telling them comrades are irredeemable scum? Everyone who is a slightly different type of communist than them is a Fed, but this anonymous internet list telling them to stop boosting anyone with a platform who supports their cause...that's the real thing baby

Also it is slacktivism. It is slacktivism to make a righteous cause out of blocking celebrities on Instagram en masse. It's funny that a lot of these posts say they don't care about celebrities when like. Yes, if you're attaching grave importance to methodically blocking thousands and thousands of famous people, you...are actually extremely celebrity-obsessed? Far, far more than most people. Literally no one else is still talking about the Met Gala, if it was a distraction, the one getting distracted is you. If your activism is about finding ways to justify silencing Palestinians and supporters for minor mistakes bc a random internet list told you to...I repeat: what are you even doing

If someone tells you to block and denounce people from the oppressed group you're supporting, your first reaction should be "are you a cop?", not "yes, I'll do this unquestioningly, and you're an awful person if you don't too"

Not that it's above criticism, it's not, but I feel your Met Gala take should at least acknowledge it's a fundraiser for an art museum with pay-what-you-want admission instead of vaguely presenting it as as if it's an event where everyone goes to dump their money in Scrooge McDuck pits and jump around in it

[firedragon1321]

The Pokemon Terminology Rant

I fucking hate official Pokemon terms sometimes.

"First partner Pokemon"? When they were called "starters" up until Generation VI? And like no-one noticed the change (including me)? Okaaaaay, whatever. Also, it's annoying because it's unwieldy. Terms like "Ultra Beasts" or "regional forms" get right to the point, and are easier for the target audience of children to remember. Also- as a Digimon double-dipper- I just hate it because a Tamer's Digimon is also referred to as their partner, and they usually only get one.

"Ecologically similar Pokemon"? Okay, let's get little Timmy into the room. What's he more likely to remember- that mouthful of bullshit, or "convergent Pokemon"? This has the same issue as "first partner Pokemon". Hell, the fan term might teach little Timmy something neat about real-world evolution!

Eeveelutions? Mostly official, with there being multiple other terms. Sometimes it's used, and sometimes they go with "Eevee Evolutions". Which...no-one uses, except as a verb (i.e.- "I'm going to evolve my Eevee into Espeon.") To refer to the group as a collective- including Eevee- there's a term already neatly packaged. Japan even has its own version- EVs! There's also the sister term "Veevee", which refers more to Eevee (even showing up in "Veevee Volley"), but would make a cute nickname.

Legendary vs. Mythical Pokemon? That's always been a thing in Japan, fair. But what defines a mythical Pokemon, versus a legendary? You can only get it via event? Bulbapedia clarifies "at the time of release", but there's like. Fourteen of the twenty-four as of Gen IX that don't need a special event. And you can get them right now if you have the appropriate game. Most are on the fucking Switch, Go, or Home!

And then there's groups that obviously exist which don't. Like the electric rodents or Pikaclones. They have no official term, yet there's a lot of art and merch that lumps them together. So clearly they're related...right? Also- route one trash. Early-route Pokemon. The birds. The rats. The bugs. I guess no-one could come up for a collective term that everyone agrees on- including GameFreak. Despite them being a staple since Day One.

Pokemon fans are literal saints for identifying/naming some categories and ignoring the bullshit naming of others.

[u5an5]

Jacobs' Journal: Tape #10 - Destination: D Class

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.

[START LOG]

Jacobs: (sigh) <hysterical> Well, that was probably the craziest thing I've done in my life.

Jacobs: Note to yourself: if I ever feel the need to round up another group of misfits to bring down a Site Director and his PMC, don't. enlist. the D-Class. I don't care how much help they'd be, or how far down the rabbit hole I've come. I am not risking my neck ever again for even one of these pricks!

Jacobs: (deep sigh) Hoo, I gotta catch my breath.

... *Jacobs walks away, takes several deep controlled breaths*

Jacobs: *grabs microphone and holds it too close to himself, causing his voice to be slightly louder, distorted and bass-boosted*

Jacobs: As much as it pains me to say it, I owe Aaron Chen my life.

[Rest bellow the cut]

Jacobs: The Major has helped me put the final pieces of the puzzle together when it all seemed doomed to fall apart. The day had come for him to deliver on his promise: Wilson Miles. Potentially the largest cornerstone in my plans, success rested on whether we could secure his support.

Jacobs: Lambert's had the kid locked up in High Security Zones for... well, forever. Places where my presence would seem intrusive. Even if i could make contact, Lambert has his claws dug so deep into miles that I'd need a hell of a convincing package to put together to tear away his allegiances. At least Chen's offer to tour me around some of the restricted areas on the basis of a false inquiry on behalf of the O-5 Council could get me close.

Jacobs: Once there, it was up to me to do the talking.

[click]

(footsteps)

Jacobs: Little barren around here, isn't it?

Mjr. Chen: <exasperated> Don't get too into the role. You're acting like you're actually on some secret mission.

Jacobs: I am. Just... not the one lab that thinks I'm on.

Mjr. Chen: Apparently, I'm supposed to keep you from taking notes on anything "problematic". <amused> Rate my performance.

Jacobs: Easy assignment. 

Mjr. Chen: I'm not complaining. I'll take affirmative espionage action over pushing orange jumpsuits into the jaws of some stinky dinosaur anyway.

(keypad beep) *door opens* (faint keyboard clicking sounds)

Mjr. Chen: <sarcastically> After you.

Jacobs: (scoffs)

(footsteps, door close)

Jacobs: <quietly> Oof, chilly in here.

Mjr. Chen: Climate control, to keep the equipment cool. Hard to ventilate when you're a dozen miles underground.

Jacobs: Thanks, Major Obvious.

(keybord noises get more audible)

Jacobs: Is that him?

Mjr. Chen: (huff) That lump over there? Correct.

Mjr. Chen: … What are you waiting for?

Jacobs: I need to be careful how I approach this guy. Push too hard, he goes crying to Lambert, but don't push enough... I have nothing to hold over him.

Mjr. Chen: If you need a little persuasion, you could always say you know about the "thing".

Jacobs: What thing?

Mjr. Chen: (whispers)

Jacobs: <surprised> ...That'll work

(footsteps, beeping sound) (pencil scratches, typing stops)

Tech. Miles: Uh... can I help you? You're kind of standing a little close...

Jacobs: Name.

Tech. Miles: Um, I'm sorry?

Jacobs: Did I stutter? I said: Name.

Tech. Miles: *awkwardly* Oh, er, Miles. Technician Miles.

Jacobs: And do you have a first name? Or did your parents think it hilarious to have a child called "Technician"? 

Tech. Miles: Wilson. My name is-

Jacobs: What are you doing? (scribbling returns)

Tech. Miles: I'm-I'm working, I... excuse me, but are you assessing performance?

Jacobs: <sarcasticaly> No, I'm the social workplace fairy. Of course I'm assessing you! And I must say, your performance is quite poor indeed.

Tech. Miles: What?!

Jacobs: <incredulous> Look at all this trash! Since when is it appropriate to consume crisps anywhere near Foundation equipment.

Tech. Miles: Hey, it's not my fault! Management stuck me here and told me I couldn't even leave her food!

Jacobs: Oh, well isn't that convenient? I suppose management just lets you get away with slacking off on the job too?

Tech. Miles: Hey... Wait you're that guy. The one lambert said i shouldn't speak to! Wait till he hears about this! You're going to wish-!

Jacobs: What? <walks up to Miles> I'm going to wish... what?

Tech. Miles: You-you'll get in a lot of trouble,

that's all. I'm telling him now.

Jacobs: Fine. You do that, Technician Miles. (phone dialing sound) But the second you mention this, your little secret gets out.

Tech. Miles: What are you talking about?

Jacobs: "Unacquired taste". (dialing sounds stop) Isn't that how you justified liking them so much? "Just like any other kink".

Tech. Miles: (puts down the phone) H-how did-

Jacobs: You can worm your way into any position of power, but believe me when I say as a universal fact: no one is untouchable.

Jacobs: <disgusted> Lambert may turn a blind eye to a disgusting shit stain like you, but I drop what I know into the pocket of any law enforcement body and real-world you is a goner. You'll be tried, convicted, and sentenced faster than your typing speed. Who knows? Maybe we'd see each other again, except my suit would be black... and yours would be orange.

Tech. Miles: Please don't tell anyone. I have a life on the outside. I can't lose, it I can't!

Jacobs: If you want all this to never see the light of day, then you would better do everything and anything I tell you. No questions, no choices. Do you understand me?

Tech. Miles: Mm-hm.

Jacobs: You screw me, you won't live to see the consequences. But you play ball, and I'll scrub your record so clean, you'd think you were born again. Do you understand me?

Tech. Miles: Yes.

Jacobs: Any word of this reaches Lambert, or Hillard, or your goddamn pets, and I will use everything in my power to ensure every inch of you is destroyed. Do you understand?

Tech. Miles: Yes! Yes.

Jacobs: You take your orders from me now... Clean up this pink slime.

(footsteps) (door closes)

Jacobs: (sigh) <under breath, with disgust> Filth.

Mjr. Chen: People like him are a dime a dozen around here. You'd be amazed what's excused for the sake of productivity.

Jacobs: Not under my watch.

Mjr. Chen: There are people who are far better at covering their tracks than Wilson Miles. What makes you think that you'll find them all? 

Jacobs: It's not my concern. Right now, I need to come up with a way to get to D-Class undetected.

Mjr. Chen: Ah, yes, that predicament. I gave it some thought, and I believe there is a way to make it happen.

Jacobs: What did you have in mind?

Mjr. Chen: Well, that all depends? How good are you at growing a beard?

[click]

Jacobs: In point of fact, it took me slightly over a week to grow one in. (scratches it) I haven't had one of these since Bosnia, <voice gets shaky> and that was because a guide got us lost in the jungle for 13 straight days.

Jacobs: I covered my absence by faking an appendix removal, and met with chen at a secure location far away from Site 19.

Jacobs: I would have documented the events on my recorder, but Chen, quite rightly, pointed out that it would seem suspicious for a D-Class to be caught with prohibited items on their person. That's right. I was going undercover as a lab rat.

Jacobs: He'd overseen the arrival and segregation of the incoming D-Class personnel, and had also arranged that the four picks on my list of candidates would be sent to Site 19. Denton the smuggler Manning the CIA agent and Jacques and Nikolai the criminal masterminds. Although I'm not sure if you can retain "mastermind" if you've been caught.

Jacobs: I was processed under an alias in a center not too far from the Site. From there, I rode in the back of a cramped truck into the facility. It's strange, I must admit, entering my place of work from the perspective of a glorified tested dummy. Corralled like lambs to the slaughter. Pfff, lambs tempers.

Jacobs: Even here, I witnessed the odd fight break out. Tensions were high, and I'm pretty sure some willingly committed suicide by MTF. They were the smart ones. ...They threw us into a decontamination shower, scrubbed us down, then gave us medical examination. I made sure to be selected for the line of the medical examiner Chen had told me about: an old acquaintance of his called Reyes.

Jacobs: The doctor took false samples and scribbled in his recommendations that would place me with a certain group of D-Class. I thanked him, but before I left, he told me to tell chen that they were now even. He didn't seem too pleased at having done the favor.

Jacobs: I was shackled once more and taken directly to the Detention Level. When we reached the floor, my heart left into my throat. Directly ahead in our path, Colonel Hillard was closely inspecting the fresh stock. I was being forced towards her, and all I could do was hope I wasn't recognized. We passed within inches of each other. But thankfully, her attention was directed elsewhere.

Jacobs: I couldn't believe how close I had come, and for a moment I wished i was back in my office. It was... weak of me... and I quickly shook off the thought. Moments later, I was unceremoniously tossed into a cell. Hit my head on the floor, but was otherwise unscathed. My guests did not take to my presence kindly. Jacques was immediately suspicious with Nikolai backing him up. Denton antagonized from afar, while Manning just... stared at me. she was sizing me up, and I'm pretty sure she figured me out fast.

Jacobs: Jacques and Denton got into an altercation about what to do with me: one wanted me to prove my worth as part of the group, while the other wanted to kill me as a show of strength to the rest of the prisoners. I'll let you guess which one said which. When it seemed the tide was turning towards my early demise, Manning finally spoke up. "Let him talk." The others fell silent. She asked who I was, and I told her exactly that.

Jacobs: I explained that I required their assistance and that they would be handsomely rewarded for their services. Denton shot me down immediately, stating that he knew exactly how to handle life in prison. That there was no way I could do anything for them in here, and that I was just trying to save my own skin. "This is not some ordinary prison.", I said.

Jacobs: He should be able to see that.

The system doesn't work here. They weren't inmates, they weren't on anybody's register. None of them existed beyond this cell. They could take my offer or leave it, but the moment I walked out of that cell, they wouldn't get another chance to exist again. And finally, they started taking things sensibly.

Jacobs: I explained to them that at some point in the coming days, they would be taken to a room, and inside this room would be a man dressed as a plague doctor. They were not to get anywhere near to him, but to inform him that the time had come to meet the Site Director. He would understand. From there, they were to escort the doctor out of the room and give him protection until he had fulfilled his purpose. Oh, and to not let him anywhere near a corpse. I told them that upon completion of the task, once I had taken control of the facility, I would ensure their crimes were pardoned and records expunged.

Jacobs: Three were silent, but Nikolai broke the quiet. He asked, "Why don't we just turn you in? Knowing what you're up to must be worth something." I implored him to try. Once they had the information, there was no guarantee they'd be rewarded for it. I came to them, I had my own ass to cover, this meant I was obligated to honour my part of the deal.

Jacobs: Not entirely convinced. but... what choice did they have? I wasn't able to confirm their cooperation, as at that juncture, the cell door opened. I was whisked out by a couple MTFs who shoved me down the hallway. I asked where i was going and they kicked me forward. This wasn't meant to be happening. Chen was supposed to meet me and get me out. But, as I looked down in a joining hall, I saw what had held him up.

Jacobs: Hillard was talking to him. Chen glanced my way, a flash of concern on his face, but there was nothing he could do. I just have to play along and hope that wherever i was being taken it wasn't a death sentence. They took me deeper into Site 19, down to the SCP Containment levels. My hopes... were dashed. I recognized it immediately as the sector where we contained the Keter SCPs.

Jacobs: A group of scientists strapped a recorder to my belt, handed me a piece of paper, and instructed: "Read the phrases ,stay in the light", then shunted me into the containment area.

Jacobs: I managed to get a copy of what.. happened... thought about whether I should play it here, but... I think it's very telling us to the quality of treatment here at the facility.

[click]

*containment door shuts* (footsteps)

(footsteps stop)

Jacobs: <shaky> Hello?

(echo) Hello? Hello? Hello?

(paper rustling)

Jacobs: Nice night for a walk.

(echo) Nice night for a walk. Nice night for a walk. Nice night for a walk.

Jacobs: (unbelieving huff)... Have you met the postman?

…

…

SCP-939: (repeat in his voice) <voices come from different distances> Hello?Hello?HelHello?lo?Hello?Hello? Nice night for a walk.HNiceenightlforlao?walk. Nice nightHeforllo?a walk. NiceHellnighto?for a walk.

SCP-939: <in woman's voice> Who's there? Nice nigHellhto?for a walk.WhNiceo's there?Helnightlo?for a walk.

SCP-939: <in child's voice> Mummy, iWho's Helthathlo?ere?you? NicHelelnigho?t for a walk.WhoNic'sethere?night forHeallwalk.o?

SCP-939: <in male voice> Stayforaway!a walk. StaWhyoa’swaHethllNicey!o?erMoe?mniHegmy,t<voices overlap up to the point of being incomprehensible>

...

SCP-939: <in another child's voice, much louder than others> Want some candy?

[click]

Jacobs: Those bitty red eyes swam slowly closer, taunting me with the voices of the dead. I backed away. Finally realising where I had wound up, and wise still knowing exactly what was about to come. A monstrous claw strode into the light and, just as I had almost backed into the wall, something heavy grabbed me from behind. I was pulled back through the doorway and dragged into the observation room.

Jacobs: (huff) I had never been so happy to hear the sound of Chen's voice chastising the scientist in charge. He spouted some B.S. about how I hadn't been properly assessed yet, that management would have his head if they found out testing and jumped the gun, then took me personally from the sector explaining, "Someone's gotta do your job right."

Jacobs: I didn't say a word as we headed back upstairs. The encounter played over and over again in my head, but the stress helped me stay in character. I was running on adrenaline. We finally came to a storage closet where Chen had stashed my clothes. I changed as quickly as I could, neither of us had enough time before our absence would be noticed.

Jacobs: But just as we exited the closet, Hillard descended upon us. Chen played coy, pretending he'd found me here, and so she inquired as to what I was doing here when I should be at home. I told her I'd left my shaving kit in my quarters and she rightly pointed out that I wasn't anywhere near my quarters. That's when I snapped. I told her it was my job to inspect Foundation Operations regardless of if she or Lambert liked it or not.

Jacobs: She grabbed me by the collar and pressed me into the wall. "Listen.", she warned me, "You're only alive because you aren't expendable, while you're cooperative. If I find out you're no longer living up to that promise, I'll put a bullet in such a deep part of your brain you'll be sipping meals through a straw for the rest of your natural life."... Then she left.

Jacobs: Gotta give her credit, she sure knows how to drop a threat. That's when I heard Chen whisper "I can't wait to have her job." I wanted to laugh,... but I couldn't. I was still in shock, so... that's where Chen and I parted ways,... and I came here. Doubtful of this D-Class alliance, Hillard watching over my shoulder... one more memory to add to the PTSD pile. Lucky me.

Jacobs: Well... there is one positive out of all of this. I... (huff) can finally shave this damn beard off.

Jacobs: This is Administrative Oversight Jacobs, signing off... in every sense of the word.

[END LOG]

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[mazikomo]

Change of Attire

Arno's new outfit will be the death of you.

AO3 Link

Arno Dorian/gn!reader, NSFW 3.8k words PWP, fingering, semi-public sex

Sans-Culottes outfit > Athos Duel Shirt When the husband @straight-into-the-animus says there's not enough true gender neutral reader inserts for Arno, you finish your year old WIP. Anything for you honey 😘

Thanks for my favorite piece of trash and the brain rot crew for betaing!

Sitting on a bench at the edge of the market, you watched the movement of the crowd in front of you. Paris had been tearing itself apart at the seams and this was certainly reflected in its citizens. People were shouting at one another, a desperate look in their eyes as they fought over what little food was available. Thievery was at an all time high due to the shortage and that was just what you were trying to fix when you had agreed to help Arno on this mission. 

You had been surprised at his request, but with tensions so high in the city, even he saw the rationale in working as a pair instead of alone. Initially, you had been hesitant to lend your aid, as you had been developing an attraction toward him for quite some time now. You knew the best way to get over this was to avoid the man, but the people of the city came first over your own personal matters. Besides, you were an adult and full fledged assassin, it shouldn’t be any problem to put a lid on your feelings and work together.

Finally, you saw Arno across the market. Your heart jumped into your throat as he grew nearer. Instead of his usual long, navy coat, he was dressed in an outfit you had never seen before. A soft, lightweight shirt clung to his shoulders and sturdy leather sleeves wrapped around the muscles of his arms. Over that was a very well-fitted vest that accentuated his narrower waist and two thick, leather straps crossing over his broad chest. Arno’s usual red sash and belts were present, but in contrast to the impeccable fit of the top garments, loose, striped pants completed the outfit.

“Wh-where’s your usual clothes?” you asked as you stood from the bench, trying to sound as normal as possible despite your brain beginning to overheat. The lid you had oh so carefully secured lay shattered at your feet. 

So much for getting over that attraction. 

“Snagged my coat yesterday while on a run and tore it. While it’s being mended I thought I would try something a little different.” He spread his arms. “What do you think?”

“Uh, looks good.” You coughed in an attempt to clear the sudden lump in your throat. “Very flattering.” 

“Thanks,” Arno replied with a smile. If he noticed your flustered state, he didn’t let on to it. “So what have you been able to gather so far?”

You explained what you had learned over the past few days. It seemed there were many small groups that were causing the food shortage. Rumor had it the Templars played a major role in organizing them. Luckily, you had an address of where several related meetings seemed to have been taking place. Today’s goal was to search the place and try to find out where all the food was being hoarded.  

The two of you set off. It was only a short distance away, but you kept to the rooftops. It was safer that way, but you also knew Arno liked to show off his free running. 

And show off he did. Scaling building sides like gravity was nothing and smoothly shifting from move to move, over chimney’s and across balcony railings, like water flowing through a stream, motions as second nature as breathing. 

However, that wasn’t what captured your attention. 

Oh no, as you clambored a few yards behind him, your eyes were glued to one thing. 

His ass. 

You were well aware of the effects the man’s backside had on you. This wasn’t the first time you had admired it, but usually it was in passing as he strolled through the hideout. Seeing it in action, the loose pants hindering it in no way as they stretched across the swell when he crouched, had you almost falling to your death on more than one occasion. 

Death from ogling the ass of the most pompous assassin in Paris. There were worse ways to die.  

Thankfully, for the sake of your own physical well-being, you arrived and slipped through a conveniently open window. 

What greeted you, however, almost caused you to keel over on the spot. 

The view of Arno’s ass, single view, already had you floundering, but multiple views… dear Lord, you were surrounded. 

Mirrors. Were. Everywhere. 

“Well, someone likes to show off their status.” Arno remarked all too casually. 

You scrambled to pick your jaw up off the floor and spoke in a cracked voice, “probably all paid for with dirty money no doubt.”

“That’s what we’re here to figure out. You start searching the study, there’s probably nothing of use in the rest of the house, but I’ll do a quick sweep before joining you.” he said as he began to head down the stairs to the main floor, your eyes hungrily watching his retreating form. 

As you entered the study, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. If the mirrors lining the hallway had been pretentious, then the amount in the study was downright obscene. Every space on the wall that wasn’t taken up by a bookcase or painting was covered with a mirror. Reflections of yourself filled your vision wherever you walked. 

“There’s probably mirrors on the ceiling in the bedroom,” you murmured to yourself. 

Wouldn’t that be an interesting display? Sweating bodies, being pinned to the mattress by strong arms, looking up to see— 

No. Best not to let your thoughts go there. 

Eyes surveyed the actual contents of the room instead of their impostors. The desk. That’s a good place to start. 

Its surface was covered with newspapers and a few personal letters, but nothing of worth was there or in the drawers, you learned as you rummaged through them. Disheartened, you pulled at the handle of the last drawer only to be met with resistance. Finally, something promising.  

You crouched down and withdrew your lock pick from your belt and set to work as Arno entered the room. 

“Woah,” he paused in the doorway at the sight of all the mirrors before blinking himself back to attention. “I didn’t find anything useful, you?”

“Not yet, but this locked drawer seems promising,” you replied, “I’ve only looked through the desk so far if you want to check out the bookcases.”

Arno nodded and began to poke through the nearest one as you returned your attention to the lock. Normally, lock picking was one of your better talents, but this desk seemed to be an antique and the old pins did not want to cooperate with you. Frustration built as you fought the stiff mechanics. The drawer probably hadn’t even been opened in a while if it was this tough. 

Movement out of the corner of your eyes caught your attention. It was Arno’s reflection in the mirror closest to you. The particular angle gave you the perfect view of his back. Arno was by no means a broad man, but as your eyes raked over his form, you knew without a doubt that there was nothing but lean muscle under those vexing clothes. 

That outfit does cling to him rather nicely, you thought to yourself as you imagined what it would feel like to run your hands across his strong shoulders, down his chest to slim hips, and even lower to—CHINK! The metallic sound of the pin breaking snapped you out of your thoughts and you swore under your breath. 

“Everything alright?” Arno asked from across the room.

“Yes everything’s fine! Just broke a pin.” You replied quickly, hoping the nervous pitch of your voice wasn’t too noticeable. 

“You sure you don’t want to trade—“

“No no!” You cut him off, “I got it really, just a stubborn lock is all.”

“Of course,” he replied, sounding unconvinced but returned to his own searching nonetheless. 

Okay, focus now. You have a job to do. You told yourself as you reached into the pouch on your belt for another pin… only to freeze as your hand felt nothing but empty space. 

This just wasn’t your day. 

“Uh, Arno?” You called out hesitantly.

“Broke your last pin, didn’t you?” The smug tone of his voice only served to deflate you further.

You sighed, “yes.” 

“Here,” he walked to the desk, “You search the bookcases, I’ll pick the lock.” 

Reluctantly, you got up and moved to the door, eyes cast to the floor as you passed Arno. You squared your shoulders and took a deep breath, determined to be productive in any sort of way, but your eyes betrayed you. They couldn’t help but peek a glance backwards via the closest mirror. Once again, the damned things were providing you with a delicious view of Arno. If you thought seeing the back of shoulders had you flustered, then sight of his behind as he squatted down in front of the locked drawer was downright torturous. Quickly, you snapped your eyes away and bit your lip trying to keep your composure. Still, you couldn’t help but sneak glances every few seconds. 

“Got you!” Arno exclaimed. You jumped, fearful that he had caught you shamelessly eyeing him before the click of the lock opening eased your mind. He pilfered through the drawer and, seemingly finding something useful, tucked some papers into his belt. 

“What did you—” the front door banged open downstairs. 

All it took was a single glance at each other before you both darted across the house and back to the open window. Your pursuers reached the top of the stairs just as you leapt out. 

“After them!” someone shouted as you begin to fly across the rooftops right behind Arno. 

This time, you actually focused on the path below your feet and only glanced up at Arno occasionally to make sure you hadn’t lost him. You didn’t care where he was headed, just as long as you were able to keep him in sight. 

The distance between your pursuers and you shrank while the buildings were becoming further and further apart. Arno jumped to the ground in a small courtyard and hopped into the well. As much as you hated being in the city’s sewer tunnels, it was the best option you had. 

Despite their massive size and the maze of their layout, it wasn’t hard to follow Arno down here as every movement echoed and broadcasted your location. Just as you thought you were making headway, splashes from behind told you otherwise. The pace picked up again and you stayed right on Arno’s heels this time. All sounds blended and echoed together in the tunnels and in your head; you didn’t know which were your own footfalls or which belonged to your enemies. You hoped Arno had a plan because you certainly did not.

Just as you were sure they were closing in, Arno grabbed your arm and darted around a corner. He pushed you against the wall and covered your body with his own in an effort to make yourselves disappear. Your heart was in your throat as the running footsteps drew closer and closer until they, finally, ran past your hiding spot. The both of you remained frozen as you listened to them get farther away until they couldn’t be heard at all. 

It was then you fully realized the position you were in. Arno’s body was pressed flush against yours and his panting breath was tickling your neck. Despite your pursuers being gone he made no move to step away.

“You know what I love about mirrors?” he murmured, soft lips just barely ghosting over your ear, “two people could be looking at the same one, and yet be seeing completely different views.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been eyeing me all day.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, “Like what you see?” he asked with a hum, nuzzling his nose just below your ear before continuing, “Lucky for you,” he emphasized with a chaste kiss to your neck, “I liked what I saw too.”

Your head was spinning. Not moments ago you had been running for your life and now you were cornered, literally, by an entirely different adversary—one you didn’t want to get away from. You couldn’t believe this was happening. All day you had been worked up by just being around Arno. The way his clothes clung to his lithe body just made things all the more difficult to bear. Your mind had been running wild but the situation you were in now was far beyond anything you could have possibly imagined. 

Arno drew his head back but kept his body still pressed against yours. You knew you were staring at him with wide, dumbstruck eyes while his own bore into you. His hands slid down to your hips as he leaned forward, stopping with his lips fractions away from yours. 

“Do you want this?” he whispered against them so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. It took a moment for your mind to process the question. On the one hand, this was a terrible place to be doing this. The men chasing you could turn around at any moment and catch, possibly kill, you. On the other hand, that just made it all the more exciting. 

You were sure your heartbeat could be heard. 

“Yes,” you breathed. No sooner had the word left your mouth and Arno’s lips were on yours in a hungry kiss. 

His mouth ravished yours and you eagerly wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him close, his own hands slid from your hips to your backside with a strong grasp to do the same. Everything about your movements was urgent, the adrenaline still pumping through both of you from the chase now fueled your actions. He licked at the seam of your lips and you happily opened your mouth for his tongue to slip in. Neither of you could get enough of the other as your mouths moved desperately together.  

Arno’s thigh moved between your own and pressed up, forcing you to stand on your toes. Your hands clung to his shoulders, nails digging into the leather straps as you tried to keep your balance. His mouth moved back to your neck, the teasing movements of before now replaced with heavy kisses as he sucked marks into the skin. Thrills shot down your spine at the action and he worked each part thoroughly. 

His hands squeezed your backside before they began to move. One came up to grip your hair to pull your head back while the other, slowly, slid to the front of your pants and firmly cupped your sex. You couldn’t help the low moan that left your mouth from the contact and the sound echoed down the tunnels. 

“Better be quiet,” Arno teased in your ear, “Wouldn’t want to get caught like this.”

You knew Arno was right but you couldn’t help the small gasps that left your mouth from his actions. You could feel his length hardening from where it was pressed against you and suspected that, despite his warning, those sounds fueled his own arousal. He was purposely trying to draw them out of you, reveling in each echo as he did so. 

“What was that?!” a gruff, but distant voice shouted. Your head snapped in the direction and the unmistakable sound of footsteps began to draw closer and closer. 

“Merde,” Arno cursed against your skin. He grasped your hand and pulled you into a run once more towards the way you had come in. 

Out of the tunnel and into the streets once more, your head swam as your senses were immediately flooded by the bright sunlight and sounds of the crowd. Arno all but dragged you into a side alley, trying to get off the main street as fast as possible and avoid attracting anymore attention to yourselves. You didn’t even try to keep track of where you were going, all your attention focused on not tripping over your own feet. 

Large stones flashed past in your vision as Arno brought you to a small, decrepit looking shed and led you down the stairs and back underground. Out of one tunnel and into another. You were thoroughly lost as he zigzagged through the carved passageways and finally brought you inside a small room. 

It was hardly larger than a kitchen storeroom but you could see the appeal to someone down on their luck as a place to stay—the small chest in the room indicated as such. Besides that, the only things in the room was a frayed blanket and a few discarded wine bottles. 

“There,” Arno stated as he stepped away from securing what looked like a makeshift door. “No one should interrupt us here.”

“Interrupt?” you questioned, and eyebrow raised as Arno sauntered towards you.

“Unless of course you’d rather not continue where we left off and forget the whole thing.” he said, slowly pushing your hood off and cupping your face in his hands. “I, for one, would greatly enjoy hearing more of those delightful sounds you were making,” he rested a thumb on your lip. 

A small spark of indignation flared in your gut. You darted your tongue out to lick at the digit, enjoying the brief flicker of surprise on Arno’s face. “I don’t know how much noise I’ll be able to make with my mouth full,” you drew his thumb into your mouth and sucked on it, feigning an innocent expression and looking at him with large, doeful eyes. 

Arno gasped at the action, but to your dismay quickly regained his composure as his eyes darkened. “I’m afraid we’ll have to save that for another time,” his other hand moved to retrieve something from his pocket, “because I went to the trouble of acquiring this,” he held up a small vial of what appeared to be oil, “and I plan on using it, now.” He withdrew his saliva covered thumb from your mouth and smeared it down your chin. 

“Where did you—?”

“Paperwork wasn’t the only thing I was searching for.” Arno replied with a smirk. The smug bastard had planned this. “Now,” he gave you a wet kiss, “bend over.”

A chill ran down your spine at the command and you quickly complied, turning around and falling to your knees. Arno’s firm hand between your shoulder blades pushed your body down over the chest. You heard him kneel behind you and soon felt him work at your clothes. The end of your coat was pushed up over your back out of the way and your belt and sash quickly discarded before your pants were tugged down to your thighs. The cold air raised goosebumps over your exposed backside immediately. 

A warm hand ran over you appraisingly, lower and lower, working its way between your legs and over your undeniable arousal. You bit your lower lip as it ground against you, once, twice, before disappearing. The protest on your tongue became a gasp as it returned, this time cooler and much wetter, and a finger pressed against you. 

Your body acted on its own as it pressed back, eagerly seeking more contact than a single fingertip. Cheeks burned from the sound of an amused chuckle but you didn’t care. You had wanted this, dreamed about it for so long, that nothing was going to ruin it for you. 

The finger pressed in and you gasped. So little, and yet it felt so good. Hips shifted again until you felt the breach of another digit. 

“So eager,” despite his teasing, Arno sounded a little breathless himself, “go on then.” 

And you did. Not caring how desperate you must look. Not caring that it gave away your hand. Not caring how it gave him full control.

No. All you cared about was the stretch. To work those fingers inside until you were ready for something else. 

You took your time, back and forth, back and forth, grinding onto his hand and taking your pleasure. Back arched and hands pressed onto the surface of the chest for better leverage. It had been too long. Too long since you had felt the touch of another in such intimate places. You wanted to savor it. 

But you also wanted more. 

Soon enough, you were properly fucking yourself against his hand. Head tossed back and breath panting as you reveled in the sensation. Distantly, you heard the clink of metal and shift of clothes, felt the cool metal buckles and scratch of fabric against your backside. 

“P-please,” God, when had your voice become so ruined? “Please, I need more.” 

You whined when instead the fingers were removed and left you grinding against nothing in a desperate search for contact. At any other time you would be ashamed at how easily you had given away control, had let another play you like a puppet on strings. But you didn’t care. All you cared about was the blunt intrusion of Arno’s cock as he finally gave you what you wanted. 

“So tight,” Arno groaned, the sound coming from deep in his chest. 

You quivered around him as he gripped your hips in an attempt to keep you still for a moment. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. It was maddening. Delicious. Torturous. Euphoric. 

Your knuckles were white around the chest’s edge, your entire being suspended on the precipice, lungs tight as the air in the room became stifling. Until it snapped. Until Arno snapped. 

Hips shot forward against your own, knocking you flat against the chest as a rough pace was set. You didn’t care. It was exactly what you wanted, what you had been craving for so long, and you were more than happy to let it happen. 

“Is this what you were thinking about while you stared at me all day?” Arno gasped, “Would you have let me take you then? In front of all those mirrors so you could see just how desperate you were from every angle?” 

“Yes! Gods, Arno, yes. Anything you want.”  

He responded with a particularly hard thrust, as lost as you were. Sweat dripped from him and mingled with your own in your suffocating robes. 

You knew you weren’t going to last much longer, and from the gasps above you neither was Arno. You shifted in order to work your hand between your legs but it was swatted away and replaced with Arno’s own hand, his gloved hand, to work over your aching sex. 

That was it. Your heavy breath became sobs as the sparks that had been flitting under your skin finally ignited. You shrieked, body jerking violently against Arno as your orgasm surged within you. His own body ground to a halt with a deep groan as he spilled inside you. 

The pleasure  smoldered in your veins as you lay panting, sandwiched between the hard chest at your front and Arno’s firm body at your back, but you couldn’t imagine a more perfect place to be. 

“Now,” Arno, breathed against your shoulder, too out of breath to achieve the teasing tone he had adopted earlier, “about your mouth being full?”

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[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Monday

Tuesday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Pairing: SBI x sister!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: swearing, toxic friends, panic spirals/attacks, injury, taking pills for pain

Summary: you have a very bad week, how will you manage? (Characters are fully human, but based on their DSMP characters. High school AU)

Word count: 4,818

(A/N): I’ve never played volleyball or watched Haikyuu before, so I’m not 100% certain how games work. Also, I probs should’ve split this into two parts, but eh.

“(Y/n) love, you look homeless in that sweater, it’s literally so fucking ugly.”

“Haha, yeah it is. I guess I just wasn’t really trying today.”

Adrian snorted, scanning your body with his cold eyes. “Today? You don’t try at all. You always look like trash.”

“More than trash, you always look like you just rolled in dog shit.” Sammy threw her head back and cackled at her own joke.

Your friends around you erupted in laughter as you four walked down the hallways of the hell that was your public high school. You awkwardly chuckled alongside them, you didn’t really find it funny, but you didn’t want to draw more attention towards yourself. 

“Seriously, (y/n), I really don’t know why we still hang out around you anymore. You really let yourself go.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it, you did gain like five pounds in the past week.”

“Really not a good look on you, love. Then again, nothing you do can make you look good anymore.”

You tried to not let their comments get to you, you really did, but sometimes their comments just rooted themselves deep into your subconscious. You didn’t try looking good anymore, you couldn’t wear anything without them criticising it. You could never win. 

“Awe,” Adrien poked your cheeks, “stop looking so sad. We’re just trying to give you advice. You really need it.”

“Yeah, (y/n). You’re so sensitive, get a grip.”

“Guys look, I think she’s gonna cry!” 

You wiped at your welling eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. “I’m not. I just got allergies.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Anyways, what are our plans for Halloween? We should totally dress up like sexy angels! I think that’d be so cool. Like, Clint’s party won’t be ready for us.”

“Oh, about that Annie…”

“God, what now (y/n)?”

“I was actually planning on spending Halloween night taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating with my brothers and dad. I won’t be able to go with you guys, I’m sorry.”

The group groaned loudly. “C’mon (y/n), you never hang out with us anymore.”

“Oh my god (y/n) you still go trick-or-treating? We’re juniors.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with my AP classes and studying for the SAT. My team captain’s really been pushing the team hard with volleyball practice. State finals are soon and we want first this year.”

“No matter how much studying you do, you’re gonna fail. You’re stupid, so why try? Just give up and hang out with uuussss.”

“Yeah (y/n),” Adrien looked at you suspiciously, “you’ve been ignoring us lately. I thought we were friends. Do you even wanna be friends anymore?”

You felt a flare of panic flare up in your gut. “I do! I-I just have so much going on right now. It’s starting to get hard to juggle everything.”

“We’re starting to think that you don’t like us anymore, we want our (y/n) back!” Sammy whined. The others agreed with her, making you feel guilty. You were ignoring them, it was selfish in your opinion. You supposed that you could skip out on taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating, there’ll be other years you could take them. 

“I guess I can take Tommy and Tubbo another year. They’d just have to go without me this year.”

They cheered, giving you praise. You beamed at that, they seemed down lately and you loved it when they’d give you compliments. They didn’t do that much, so that made their praise more special to you. You strived to get compliments.

You four went off to your separate first classes for the day. Yours was statistics, a class you’ve been struggling in lately. You didn’t know anybody in there except for your oldest brother Techno, so you tried to stick with him. Unfortunately, the teacher’s seating chart placed you both on opposite ends of the room, probably because of your last names indicating that you’re siblings. You placed your stuff down on the table and plopped down into your seat, already drained. You had a long day ahead of you; you had a major AP world history test in your next class, you had to give a presentation in your AP english class that was worth a quarter of your final grade, and you had a semifinals volleyball match that would last until late in the night. If your team won, you would be going to state finals, so it was a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You were the main setter, so you had to really focus tonight if you were going to score your team points. 

“Alright class, pull out your homework!”

Fuck, you had homework? You looked in your folder, only to see the unfinished sheet full of equations you didn’t understand staring back at you tauntingly. Mr. Mullins walked over to your desk, took one look at your blank homework, and just walked right past you. Another big fat zero in the gradebook for you, just what you needed. At least he wasn’t in the mood to berate you today. You didn’t need any more stress piled onto your shoulders. 

The lesson felt like it dragged on forever with you frantically trying to copy down the notes on the board and trying to understand the content at the same time. Overtime, he would call students up to the board. Hopefully, he would skip over you today. “Ms. Minecraft.” Goddamn it, you spoke too soon.

Your head perked up and you looked at him. “Yes sir?”

“Come up to the board and solve this.”

Gulping, you felt panic rise up in you and stood up with shaky knees. On the board was part of the newer content he was just teaching. Something that you understood only a little bit better than the rest, and that’s not saying much. You still didn’t understand the content completely. Your writing was shaky as you wrote what you thought was right on the board. Finding the answer, you circled it and looked at Mr. Mullins. He looked disappointed. 

“That’s wrong, Ms. Minecraft. Please sit down.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you saw the entire class burning holes into you with their eyes. Though they looked dead inside, as per usual with any morning class full of tired teenagers, their effects still took hold on you. You wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. You sat back down and stared at your note packet, you couldn’t focus on the lecture anymore. Your attention was fully on your surroundings, you were hyper aware of every little whisper and bouncing leg in your peripheral vision. You could feel yourself spiraling, usually that wouldn’t happen until after your third class. Today was going to be rough. 

The loud chime of the bell startled you out of your thoughts. You shakily put your papers back into your binder and put the binder back into your backpack. Right as you were about to walk through the door, you heard Techno catch up to you. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah Tech, I’m just peachy.”

“Are you su-”

“Technoblade. I’m fine. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to my next class. I have an important presentation I’ve gotta prepare for.”

Without giving him any room to argue, you rushed off to your english class. You had Adrian and Annie in your class. For your presentation, you were paired up with people that you hardly knew. At least they did their part in the project, you were certain you were going to die if you got paired up with Adrian and Annie again. You loved them, but they never did any part of their portion of work. They left it to you to finish at midnight the day the project was due. To be fair, they both told you they had family emergencies, so you covered for them just that once. 

You pulled out your flashcards only to have them knocked out of your hand when someone bumped into you. You quickly crouched to pick them up so you could have them in order by time class started. “Oops, sorry love.”

It was Annie. She and Adrian towered over your crouched form smirking at you. Looking back down to rearrange your cards, you murmured “it’s ok.”

“Are you ready for this presentation, I know I am.”

You smiled a little. “Actually, I think I’m going to ace this. English is my best subject.”

“Yeah (y/n), I wasn’t asking you. I was talking to Annie. Besides, you’re probably going to fail this.” Adrian scoffed. 

“Thank you for asking, Adrian,” Annie shot a pointed look at you, “at least someone cares.”

The bell rang, signifying the start of your second block. You felt like you had a lump in your throat blocking your breathing. If Adrian, one of the smartest kids in your english class, said that you were going to fail, then you probably were going to fail. That would take a huge hit on your grade, this project was worth a quarter of your final grade after all. You were zoned out for the entirety of your classmate’s presentations putting yourself into a spiral. You jumped when Mr. Todd, your teacher, called your group up to present.

You stood stiffly in the middle of your two groupmates and clutched your flashcards with clammy hands. Luckily, your part of the presentation was not first. When it came to your part, you were stuttering and tumbling over your words. You even dropped your flashcards in front of everybody, causing half the class to snicker. Your face burned as you hurried to pick them up and your other groupmate took this as a signal to continue the presentation. You still had an important point to make that was integral for the set up to your other groupmate’s part of her presentation. You stared at your flashcards for the rest of the presentation. 

When the bell rang, you made a mad dash out of the classroom. You didn’t want to talk to anybody, especially not Adrian or Annie. It was a relief that you had your lunch period at the moment. You could hide yourself in the bathroom nobody used and let your panic attack ride itself out. 

You ducked inside a stall and sat on the toilet, bringing your knees up to bury your face in them. The tears and panic you were holding in all day let itself out with explosive effects. You started to hyperventilate as you muffled your sobs with your knee. Your chest painfully clenched so you couldn’t breathe. Your limbs felt like they weighed two tons each and they were shaking intensely. You didn’t hear the end of the lunch bell ring. By the time you calmed down slightly, you were five minutes late to AP world history. 

You packed your stuff up in a hurry, power walking through the halls. You probably looked like shit, but you didn’t care, you had a class to get to and a test that you probably wouldn’t be able to finish now. You lost ten minutes of your test time. When you tried to open the closed door, you found that it was locked. You had to knock if you wanted to get in. You raised a shaking hand to knock, but the door was opened by a less-than-impressed Ms. Osborne. She ushered you to your desk and gave you your unit test. 

You couldn’t focus. The multiple choice section was usually a breeze to you, but you couldn’t comprehend any of the questions. When you could comprehend them, you couldn’t concentrate on choosing an answer. You did your best to find the correct answers, but you were almost positive that at least half of them were wrong. Your handwriting was nearly incomprehensible and your essay topic was something you didn’t study for. When you were done with half of the body paragraphs, the bell rang and you had to turn in your unfinished test. 

You had your independent online psychology course next in the library. You usually worked alone secluded in a corner deep inside the library where nobody went. You would get some solace in being alone. Maybe you’d calm down enough so that you could ride home with your brothers and not go for a long walk so you could avoid them. 

You settled down in the comfortable chair and pulled out your laptop to get started. Psychology was your favorite class. It was easy for you to understand, it didn’t have much of a workload attached to it, and it was fun to learn about. It always calmed you down reading about the intricate workings of the brain. 

By time the day was over, you got most of your psychology work done and you were on your way to the car you shared with Technoblade and Wilbur. You took out your spare keys and slumped against the window in the backseat. You were absolutely drained after your terrible day and you still felt panic swirling deep within you, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

You stretched out your legs across the seat and leaned your back against the door. For the first time that day, you felt peaceful. You still had at least fifteen minutes to yourself until your brothers would start to make your way to the car. You felt the panic subside slightly and you fully relaxed. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off into a light sleep. You needed your energy for tonight’s match. 

The door you were leaning on swung open and you tumbled backwards smacking the back of your head against the metal frame of the car and reverse scorpioning onto the pavement. Your entire upper back and the back of your head exploded in pain and your lower back hurt slightly from having your back bent uncomfortably. You heard laughter above you as you felt tears of pain start to slip out of your eyes. Your legs swung out from their place above your face and landed on the ground with a painful thump. 

You saw three blurry figures above you laughing at your pain. You reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at your tears and saw Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. They were cackling as you shakily stood up and sat on the comfortable seats of the car. You waited patiently for them to calm down. 

Eventually, Sammy calmed down enough to explain what happened to you through chuckles. “I’m sorry (y/n), it was just too good to resist. You should’ve seen your face.”

She and the others broke back into uncontrolled laughter as they remembered your embarrassing fall. You were used to their antics, and quite frankly it felt good to make your friends laugh, even if it were at your own expense. Just as they were calming down once again, you saw Wilbur and Techno walk out the front doors of the school laughing at something the other said. Annie and Sammy heard their laughter and quickly turned around to watch them. They had massive crushes on both of your brothers, many in the school did. 

Your brothers made their way to your shared car and stopped to look at you in slight confusion. “(Y/n), were you crying? What happened?” Wilbur asked worriedly. 

“Yea-”

“Oh Wilbur, it was terrible, (y/n) fell out of the car. I don’t think she closed the door before she leaned on it.” Annie interrupted you with a faked concerned tone, a complete contradiction to her reaction before your brothers came.

Techno hastily made his way to the driver’s side door. “Well, if she’s hurt we better get going, right Wilbur?”

“Yes! We better get going, please excuse us.” He sat in the passenger seat and closed the door without hearing Sammy and Annie’s desperate attempts to stop them so they could talk to them. Your brothers thought Sammy and Annie were annoying. They absolutely hated being around them. 

Waving apologetically at your friends, you pulled yourself into the car and closed the door. Annie and Sammy looked offended that you had let Wilbur and Techno get away from them. Avoiding their eyes, you looked down at your tightly clasped hands. They were shaking slightly. 

After pulling out of the parking lot, Techno glanced at you from the rearview mirror. “You ok (y/n)?”

“Yeah, my back just hurts and I have a headache.”

“Well, do you wanna go and get some ice cream? We still have some time left before we have to pick up Tommy and Tubbo. Dad doesn’t have to know,” Wilbur asked you.

You sighed, you wanted nothing other than to take a nap before your match. “Sorry, but I need to watch what I eat today. We have semifinals tonight and I can’t have anything sugary. I just wanna go home and take a nap.”

Your brothers were quiet for the rest of the car ride until you reached your driveway. Techno twisted his body around in his seat to look at you after he put the car in park. “Did you actually fall out of the car?”

Shit, should you tell him the truth? If you did, they would almost certainly get mad at your friends. Sammy and Annie would never forgive you if you turned your brothers against them. You decided that you would take one for the team again. “Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Techno snorted. “Well, that was stupid,” he jokingly said. “Next time you’re gonna get run over by a parked car.”

You knew that he meant that as a joke, but it still stung. Stamping your emotions down, you laughed with him and Wilbur. It was stupid of you to do, you shouldn’t have let your guard down if you weren’t at home. 

You winced as you slung your bag on your back and walked the best you could back into your house. Your upper back was killing you. You made a beeline to the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for some pain relief pills. You took some and shambled off to your room to take your well earned nap. You set your alarm’s setting to its loudest volume and passed out. 

You jolted up and gasped when you felt a wave of pain hit your upper back. You blearily looked at the time. You had a little under two hours before you had to get back to the school for your match. You groaned when you pulled yourself up, your head pounding with every turn. You pulled yourself out of bed and once again took some pain pills. You went downstairs to grab an apple or something to eat. Your dad was at the stove stirring something around in a pot. 

He turned to look at you with an excited smile. “You ready for your match tonight? You’re gonna kill it!” 

You only nodded halfheartedly and plopped yourself down at the table with your apple. Philza frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, but he figured that it was just because you just woke up from a nap. You’d bounce back eventually. 

“Wilbur told me that you fell out of the car? How’d you do that?”

You shrugged, wincing slightly as it moved your back slightly. “Dunno, must’ve not closed the door.”

Philza was at your side in a hurry, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Did you get hurt? Show me where it hurts.”

“My back and the back of my head.”

“Can I move your shirt so I could look?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

You felt him gently pull the neck of your t-shirt away from your body to peek at your back. You heard his breath hitch as he looked. Was it that bad? “Good god (y/n),” he breathed out.

“What, is it bad?”

“Don’t you feel how bad it is? Your entire back is bruised. I think there’s some blood too.”

“Damn.”

“First, language. Second, that’s all you have to say? Aren’t you in pain?”

“Yeah, but the pain pills are gonna kick in soon. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you be able to play tonight? I really think you should sit this one out.”

“No, I’m playing tonight Dad.”

“(Y/n),” oh no, he was using his stern dad voice. “It’s not a good idea to play tonight. You’re hurt, I’m sure they’ll understand if you sit this one out.”

You felt frustration rise up in you. “We’re in the semifinals. They need me, I’m the main setter. They’d lose without me playing.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious. You’re not playing today.”

“Dad, I am playing today. Look, I’ll talk to Coach Williams to see if I could be rotated out more often. I know she’d let me.”

He stared at you for a while before sighing. He knew there was no convincing you. “...Fine. But you better talk to Coach Williams about sitting out for a bit if your back hurts too much or I swear I’ll drag you off the court myself.”

You smiled a little at the small victory. “Thank you! I promise I’ll sit out if needed.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “If needed?”

You sighed, “when needed.”

He walked over to the pot, stirring the contents slightly. “That’s better. Dinner’s almost ready, I made some pasta.”

“It smells good, but I think I’m skipping out on it for today. I already ate this apple and if I eat any more I’ll probably hurl on the court.”

He made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, “fine, but you’re eating something when we get home tonight.”

He walked off to go get your brothers and Tubbo for dinner. You could hear their booming steps racing down the stairs towards the kitchen. They raced into the kitchen and almost crashed into the back of your chair. You stood up and looked at the two excitable fifth graders. “Careful boys, don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re no fun (y/n),” Tommy whined.

“Sure, sorry bout that,” Tubbo beamed at you.

You chuckled, making your way upstairs to get ready for your match. You took off your clothes with great difficulty and slipped on your jersey and your spandex shorts. They were way too short for your tastes, but you couldn’t wear longer ones, they’d just get in the way. You fondly remembered how your dad flipped out when he first saw you in them, he hated them with a burning passion. He still hates how short they are.

When you were struggling with pulling your hair back into a tight, sleek ponytail, the back of your head throbbed continuously with pain. You most likely bruised your scalp. 

You slipped on your shoes that were made specifically for playing volleyball and headed downstairs. You were met with Tommy and Tubbo jumping in excitement seeing you in your uniform. They loved going to your matches, even if they would always pass out in the car after them because matches usually ended late at night. You grabbed your dad’s keys and headed to his car. Before you could lead the boys out the door, Philza’s voice stopped you.

“(Y/n), coat.”

You huffed, grabbing your coat and putting it on before tossing him his keys. You four got into the car and set out for the high school. The short drive was filled with Tommy and Tubbo asking you questions about volleyball and encouraging you. “(Y/n), you’re gonna kick their butts!”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheered 

Despite their voices causing a spike of pain to shoot throughout your head, you laughed at their enthusiasm. It was always nice to hear your little brother and pseudo brother in the stands cheering you on, they were your and your team’s personal cheerleaders. 

Not long after you got to the school, you were stretching with your team on the gym’s floor. Your posse found their way into the stands, sitting in the front row. The away team watched your team like a hawk, analysing every single player for any weakness. It was because of them that you tried to not show any pain when you moved your back. You talked to Coach Williams before the team stretch and she was obviously sympathetic with your situation. She agreed to switching you out with the standby setter every few rotations. 

The echo of the whistles caused pain to ring in your head every time someone scored or a foul was called. Your team captain, Haley, was constantly, yet discreetly checking on you throughout the game since she was always next to you. She was the team’s main spiker after all. 

The game droned on and on before you realized that the opposing team was targeting you when they were offensive. They probably realized that you were injured a round ago. You tried your best to block every ball that was sent your way, but a few managed to slip past you when you couldn’t move fast enough. This team was good, but your team was better. 

The score during the final round was tied and the clock was on it’s last ten seconds as the ball soared your way. You dove to hit it, landing on your shoulder on the hard floor and hitting it up high enough for Haley to spike the ball down. The crowd went wild as the ball bounced off from the opposite end of the court almost simultaneously with the screeching of the referee’s whistle, signifying the end of the game and your team’s victory.

You laid on the floor in pain, you thought you must’ve pulled your tender muscles in your back and shoulder. It hurt to move it. You felt one of your teammates grab your hand to yank you up into a giant full team group hug. You yelped slightly in pain as you felt arms press against your back and hands firmly patting your bruised shoulders. You were whisked away into the locker room to change into the pajamas you brought with you. 

“(Y/n), are you alright? That was a pretty hard fall.” Haley’s soft voice asked you. You felt your heart sing in your chest. 

“Yeah Hales, I’m fine. I just pulled a few muscles.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed together, “are you sure? As your team captain and your friend, I’m worried about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You felt warm knowing that she cared about you. “I’m sure, worrywart.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and breathed out a soft laugh. “Sorry for asking, grump.” Her laugh sounded like music to your ears. 

Your phone vibrated in your pajama pocket, alerting you of your family waiting for you in the car and for you to hurry up. You sighed, “sorry Hales, I gotta go. Dad’s getting impatient.” 

She gave you a small smile. “Oh, well, tell your family I said hi! Good work on the court today, I wouldn’t ask for a different setter.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you watched with wide eyes as she left the locker room. Your phone vibrated again, your dad was really starting to get impatient. 

You walked out of the school as fast as you could to find your dad’s car waiting for you up front. Jumping in and softly closing the passenger side door, you slumped against the window. “(Y/n),” Tommy’s tired voice slurred. “That. Was. Pog…”

You glanced back to see him and Tubbo snoring away in their seats. Your match was more exciting than usual, so that must’ve really tired them out. You chuckled, turning back around to lean against the window. You took care not to put any weight on your shoulder or back. 

“(Y/n), you were amazing out there, but why did you dive for that ball? That fall looked like it hurt.”

You hummed tiredly, “thanks Dad. I just did what I thought would win us the game. We’re going to finals!” You quietly sang. 

“Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“I actually don’t know, but I think I might’ve pulled a few muscles. Nothing too bad.”

“...I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you tomorrow morning during your first and second blocks. I want you to get your back, shoulder, and head looked at. You looked miserable the entire match.”

You sighed, too tired to argue, “mmk.”

He chuckled before the car fell into a comfortable silence. The gentle bouncing of the car and the subtle hum of the engine was lulling you to sleep. Your eyelids were drooping by the time you pulled into your driveway. 

You drug yourself out of the car and into the house, leaving Philza with the sleeping boys. You walked straight to your room and plopped down on your bed, passing out instantly for the second time that day.

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

[gigaguy]

Exposing lies in Canonseeker's anti-Fixing RWBY blog.

Below this link to Canonseeker's blog is a revised repost of my qoute reblog before I was blocked. Despite Canonseeker being made explicitly aware of the very real problems in their blog, they refuse to edit it and have covered it up with reblogs and deletion of messages.

I'm also utilizing Canonseeker's tags (in addition to others) to get this exposed to as many people as possible.

Canonseeker's Blog:

My OG Response Post:

So a lot of these “points” about the Fixing RWBY show are blatantly false, and I’m going to show that with evidence from both the rewrite and the canon RWBY. I won’t be talking about the points that came down to: “this was changed/added and I personally don’t like it so it’s bad,” (which is most of them) as all that is entirely subjective and best saved for direct discussion.

I also noticed that repeats of the exact same points and the FRWBY crew’s own opinions outside of the quality of the rewrite were used to artificially increase the point number, which just comes off as desperate. But anyway here are the points and evidence in no particular order.

"Apparently the artists on the project do not get paid. They work for “exposure”.

False. The artist's VOLUNTEERED for Fixing RWBY because they're interested and enjoy supporting. They were not promised exposure nor is that what they were seeking. Here's it straight from one of the artists themselves.

"Raymond meanwhile repeatedly insults CRWBY and calls himself superior, while claiming that Miles and Kerry deserve no respect from him. Apparently, according to their discord and their youtube channel, loving and respecting RWBY proper makes you a “toxic simp”

Lumping the two of these together because they fall under the same "Phoenix hates everything about canon RWBY" propaganda Canonseeker and their friends are trying to push.

Now unless you think giving criticism AND praise to CRWBY writers is Phoenix saying that they "deserve no respect" from him, than this is another blatant lie.

As for the claim that Phoenix & crew feel that if you enjoy canon RWBY you're a "toxic simp," it REALLY should go without saying that the amount of time and effort the entire team put into Fixing RWBY shows how much they love the show, but here's the words straight from Phoenix once again.

And this.

"One of the artists claim that Yang is a party girl."

Yes because she is and CRWBY agrees, so this shouldn't be a "problem" directed at one of the FRWBY artist's for stating a canon fact.

“Raven is now trash-talking Summer to Yang’s face, calls Vernal worthless, and cuts ties with her tribe at the end of V5… NONE of this is Raven….”

Canon Raven:

Yeah no, all of what OP mentioned minus “cuts ties with the tribe” is canon Raven. And what’s funny is in the rewrite she doesn’t even cut ties with her tribe in the first place.

Skip to 59:30 in the video below.

Shiloh is the one that cuts ties with Raven and makes the tribe leave HER.

Watch. The rewrite. Before making blogs. Please.

Also notice Raven’s face in the image below as she calls Vernal worthless, heck just listen to how her voice breaks up while she’s talking about her. People, don’t let misinterpretations and out of context quotes give you a specific opinion, watch the material yourself.

The WF is no longer a civil rights group, extremist or otherwise.

The WF is literally the same as how Blake explained it to Sun in canon. Go to 10:17 in the video below.

I really don’t understand how someone can just lie about something that is readily available for people to check out themselves at any time.

“Not only is Roman now the protagonist of FRWBY, and given far more screentime than any of the RWBY protagonists”

Here’s a fun challenge for everyone, starting from Fixing RWBY Part 3, (skip the History, Lore and Response videos in the playlist below) scrub through all of the episodes and see how many times Roman shows up compared to the RWBY girls.

Spoiler for the result: Roman is NOT shown more times than the all the RWBY protagonists, not even close. Neither Roman nor any other male characters get an "excessive" amount of screen time compared to the female characters like Canonseeker claimed. And this would be very obvious to anyone that actually watches the series all the way through.

“The entire Brunswick arc in V6? It’s now devoted to Roman.”

Fixing RWBY hasnt even reached Volume 6 yet...it JUST wrapped up Volume 5..(check the playlist).. once again another blatant lie.

“Salem has YET to make an appearance…that is to say, she is discussed, but despite being in v3, v4, and v5, has not been shown in any way shape or form once.”

SHE’S RIGHT THERE. She shows up in the Battle of Haven just as she does in canon! Holy hell man this is embarrassing-

Now as you can see, Canonseeker’s (ironic name) blog is just downright unreliable. They didn’t watch Fixing RWBY, they just either based it entirely on word of mouth from people like the ones they thanked at the end of their blog, or they did watch all of them and just intentionally lied to slander Fixing RWBY. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the latter given the discussions I’ve had with them directly.

Like I said at the start, I didn’t even talk about most of the things in Canonseekers's blog as I just wanted to expose their notable lies and double standards that can’t be argued one way or the other whatsoever. And trust me, I (and I’m sure a ton of others) have LOTS to say about those other warped and out of context takes, but I’ll just take that to the comments. I just wanted to get this out quickly as to not let something so maliciously dishonest stand on it’s own.

Everyone involved with this should be ashamed to have let this slide, and I highly recommend you make a new one without all the lies Canonseeker.

Remember, it’s perfectly fine to not like Fixing RWBY and express that, but it’s something else entirely to intentionally LIE about it just because YOU don’t like it and don’t want others to watch and like it either.

[taliaaurora]

Welcome To The Family

Pairing: Matt Casey x Reader

Requested: "I do not know how much Matt Casey request you have but I just thought of this and it is very cute where Matt and the reader (a doctor) are married and have a son together. A child Matt saves from a fire and the reader treats ends up getting very attached to the both of them and they discuss about adopting her."

Word Count: 833

Warning(s): smoke inhalation, hospital (is it something that needs to be warned? lol)

A/N: English is not my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes. I hope you have a nice day/night and enjoy this drabble! 💕

Want to join my tag list? You can request it here! 🦋

“Hey, Maggie!” You called the nurse as you reached the reception, leaning on the desk. “Do you know where Dr. Halstead is? I need to talk to him about Ms. Jones’ case.”

Raising her head to look at you, Maggie shook her head. “He’s in his lunch break right now, but I’m not sure where he is.”

The sound of a stretcher being rushed inside the hospital startled you. Looking at the source of the sound, you noticed Brett and Violet handing a little girl to one of the nurses before you rushed towards them. The sight of that fragile girl laying across the stretcher made your heart squeeze.

“What do we have here?” You asked Brett, checking the girl for any external injuries.

“Smoke inhalation,” Brett answered. “She was found in a structural fire. There are no signs of relatives, no one we can call.”

Sighing, you took your stethoscope and tried to listen to the little girl’s shallow breathing.

“Maggie, we need to intubate her, now!” You hook the stethoscope around your neck and, with Maggie’s help, you settle the girl in one of the rooms in the ER.

Once the kid was out of danger, you felt like you could breathe again. Leaning on her bed, you watched how her chest rose and fell in her peaceful sleep. Although her skin was covered in soot, you noticed that she had a few scars on her arms.

Biting your trembling lip, you brought the covers to the girl’s chest and tucked her in. You couldn’t imagine what she went through in her life, but you knew it couldn’t be good.

Stepping outside the room, you took your gloves off and discarded them in the trash. Your eyes glanced at the waiting room and you caught the sight of your husband, sitting in one of the chairs with his head down, still wearing his turnout gear.

“Hey babe, what are you doing here?” You asked, approaching him.

Casey stood up from the chair and locked eyes with you. You noticed that his eyes were red from crying.

“Matt, is everything okay?” Your voice was soft, worried.

Nodding his head, he wiped off his tears.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He flashed you a half-smile. “How is the little girl?”

Glancing at the girl’s room, you sighed. “Well...she inhaled a lot of smoke, but nothing that can’t be treated.” You answered, trying to study his face. “Matt, what’s going on?”

Licking his lips, he took a shaky breath.

“During our last call, we found a group of kids hidden inside a secret room.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “CPD thinks that they were victims of human traffic or something like that.”

You noticed how his lower lip was trembling, so you rested your hand on his shoulder, trying to show him your support.

“There were four kids but-...but by the time we got there only one of them was alive. They were the same age as Noah.” He whispered, trying his best to hold back his tears, but failing.

With glossy eyes, you wrapped your arms around his neck and embraced him in a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” You whispered in his ear, stroking his hair.

After you became parents four years ago, every time you lost a child on the job the pain hit you ten times stronger. You saw their parents grieving and couldn’t imagine how would it feel like to be in their place.

Resting his head on your shoulder, you could feel Casey’s tears soaking the fabric of your shirt.

“Do you wanna see her?” You whispered in his ear.

He nodded his head frantically, making your lips curve slightly into a smile.

-/-/-

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” Casey said, leaning on the balcony of your shared apartment as he watched the two little kids playing and giggling in the middle of the living room.

Standing by his side, you wrapped your arm around his back and rested your cheek on his chest.

“It’s the right thing to do.” You said with a soft voice. “We felt a strong connection with her the moment we saw her. Besides, I couldn't let her go to an orphanage, not after all the time I spent with her at Med. She deserves to have a place to call home.”

Kissing the top of your head, Casey smiled. “And this is just the right place. Now Noah has a little sister.”

“Yeah…” You whispered with glossy eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy.”

Before you started to cry again, you went back to the kitchen and placed the homecooked lasagna on the table.

“Noah, Emma. Dinner is ready!” You called.

The kids ran straight to the dinner table, giggling on their way. Matt helped them settle on the table while you served their plates. Your eyes met and you shared a fond smile. Things couldn’t be better. You couldn’t be more grateful for being married to such an amazing and loving man, and you couldn’t be happier for the small family you build together.

Want to join my tag list? You can request it here! 🦋

Tag list: @dedlund82 @mrspeacem1nusone

[godsfavefemboy]

I would rather kill myself than be as smart as you. I wouldn't like to be lobotomized.

You say I'm projecting as if that has anything to do with the dunning Krueger effect. It just means that the less someone knows about a subject, the more they think they know about the subject, because they don't understand how much they don't know about the subject. It has zero to do with projection. I brought up the dunning Krueger effect because it applies to you.

Now I'm gonna ignore the first bit because I'm not explaining emphasis to a full grown fucking adult. Also I don't think you would understand it.

Now you have said that there is no difference between Nazism and communism. That doesn't mean it's true it just means you said it.

And communism has been around longer, but it still hasn't caused the same amount of death. If we're counting ALL innocent people then we can count Russian soldiers and civilians AND the Jews. Ignoring the bullshit numbers you probably made up and literally 2 minutes of google, that brings the death counter to,

Nazis: 70-85 million kills

And those dirty commie trash: 60 million kills

And remembering that communism was around 40 years longer than Nazism, we can clearly decide which one is better.

Now you're right that it's not a democracy. America is a 50+1 mob rule.

But that doesn't mean it's free.

Now antifa is still, despite your incorrect opinion stating otherwise, not an anarchist group.

"Individuals involved in the movement subscribe to a range of left-wing ideologies, and tend to hold anti-authoritarian, anti-capitalist, and anti-state views. A majority of individuals involved are anarchists, communists, and socialists who describe themselves as revolutionaries, and have little allegiance to liberal democracy,[8] although some social democrats also participate in the antifa movement."

Now that's pulled directly from the Wikipedia page on antifa. And that anarchist flag you mentioned, is this.

Black flag for anarchy, red for communism. It comes from the original German anti fascist movement.

So you're wrong about that too.

And I actually did know that the Russians killed gays. I've known ever since I actually listened to 3rd year history. I just assumed that like an idiot conservative, you would lump every group you dislike into one big group, so you can hate people more efficiently, as conservatives tend to do.

The sentence "That's a political compass of someones malformed opinions of where political groups fall on a political compass" sounds like it was written by an AI. It means nothing at all. But go on. Tell me you've never heard of a political compass in less words. You want specifics? This is one of the most detailed political compass's there is.

Now if you'll notice, what you've been calling communism is actually Stalinism. Communism wasn't in practice in soviet Russia. It was a modified form of communism that gave more power to the state. So you've really been arguing against Stalinism this whole time.

Still different sides.

Let's address some of your other terrible opinions shall we?

You lie about trans people not being allowed to receive gender affirming care not being a genocide. It is.

Ok here's something! Men should not be allowed in the women's bathroom. Ok so we should let women into the women's bathroom. You should know though that women includes trans women because, get this, no matter what they were told they were at birth, they're now women, so they should be allowed in the women's bathroom. Crazy right?

You must know that no one forces children to take hormones or anything. Surely you know that. Right? What would even be the point? Like "oh haha, I've made this child transgender now... I'm not sure why though. I don't know what I'm hoping to achieve. I'm sure it'll come to me eventually". And yes it is a blanket statement. Many GOP politicians try to use the bible, a book of literal fiction, to say that trans people are bad or wrong and say they should be banned.

Now that's a direct quote from Michael Knowles. Give that guy a German accent and see who he sounds like. Theres no way you can say it's not a blanket statement without realising your hypocrisy.

I didn't realise that you were one of those COVID conspirators too. Although when one has bad opinions it leaves you open to even more bad opinions.

But I surely don't have to explain to you that normal people, who interact with others, might have gotten sick if they went outside and got infected by someone else. And that old people or immunocompromised people, might get sick. They might also smell you. And that would be like 9/11 but with more deaths. And sadder.

And you go back to being jealous of trans people for having a bigger dick than you. They are being called sexual predators and it's now illegal in some states to receive gender affirming care at any age. That checks the boxes of moral and legal.

If you are trans people will accuse you of disgusting things, and you could also go to prison. If you even have a trans child, they could be taken from you and you can go to jail.

Back to this definitely not a coup attempt.

"The mob sought to keep Trump in power by preventing a joint session of Congress from counting the electoral college votes to formalize the victory of President-elect Joe Biden. According to the House select committee investigating the incident, the attack was the culmination of a seven-part plan by Trump to overturn the election."

Pulled directly from Wikipedia. But yes do go on. Tell me why I don't like the oppressive disgusting laws that attack a certain group of people just for existing, and then say the media tells me what to think.

Then lie about how authoritarianism works, say fascism is radical, demonstrating that you have no idea what radical means. Then maybe misunderstand, but I'm leaning more towards lie, about what philosophy itself is. There's no way you still haven't looked it up.

There you go now you won't have to do that chore called moving your fingers to type.

Now I don't know what you mean by I'm dirty, but can everyone for one second please appreciate the pure narcissism that is the sentence "if you rose to my level you would be looking down on the milky way galaxy". That is something a well adjusted person says. (I said sarcastically)

Talk about a high sense of self importance, dude I don't think I could be that egotistical if I fuckin tried.

But I know what your going to do. You will either block me (like a fucking coward) or you will take something I said, misinterpret it, take something you made up, misinterpret that, straight up lie about something, or just try to insult me. Insult won't work. Your "boos" mean nothing, I've seen what you cheer for.

As predictable as the next sunrise? Indeed you are

Antifa literally fought against the nazis

They literally didn’t but it’s cute you think so.

Anyway, nazism is just an idea 🙃