#anyway. we were wrecks before we crashed into each other

[davekatplayswiz101]

listening to sober to death and thinking about davekat top ten activities that make me ill (/pos)

[lazymonth]

Wreck It Ralph Ocs Crossover with Wodergøtten made by @danisha-tdh

The Hermit ( AKA. Octane ) made by @itschr1spy

The New paper edited ( I'm trying to find the closest font as possible ) ;;

Hey<33 thank you the original artist ( danisha-tdh )who made Wodergøtten for permission me to making this crossover!! I very love the concept and idea. I don’t sure how accurate this can be or did I made any mistake? But you can tell me if I made any mistakes I don’t mind 👍

Fact : I’m also thinking about draw a tarot card too for all of them but realize it’s would be rude if it’s already have a canon design for them so, I didn’t draw it

—— > A conversation between them and Anon about how they got here & Bonus doodle :

✦•·············•✦•·············•✦

The Wheel of fortune & The Emperor & The Hermit

“ How did you two get into this place exactly? ”

“ Puff, no idea. All I remember before getting here is I- wait no, we’re on the rainbow road? I guess? Anyway, both of us are racing with the king but it turns out the king is.. the other racer. He’s from the same company that made my game but much older. It’s complicated I’ll explain about that later ”

“ Ok? So, what’s next? ”

“ Oh yeah, oh yeah, after that we raced into the cave my kart is beside him and that’s another little girl behind us but that guy trying to crash my kart. I’m trying to fight back but it’s make me lose balance and accidentally full of the rainbow road…. Yah, I full into the cave’s pit ”

“ That sounds bad for you two ”

“ Of course it is! But luckily we don't game over yet but my kart is literally full a part. We were trying to find our way back to the road but instead we found the rabbit hole.. I thought it could be another way to at least get out of the cave. Sadly, we ended up here ”

“ Yup and the most important! Our body has to be split into two person ”

“ This little girl used to be my disguise identity but now we're split. I'm kinda upset about how I made her personality kinda a$▅ hø▊e ”

“ Hey!? ”

“ Just kidding, just kidding ”

“ But... If both of you two are the same person back then. What does it mean " We " ? ”

“ Well, there was another guy with us at that time. He's our friend but I guess we missed each other when we came here... I wonder if he's ok or not ”

✦•·············•✦•·············•✦

The Towner & The Chariot

“ How did you two get into this place exactly? ”

“ Hard to tell. We aren't sure how we got here ”

“ But if I need to explain a bit... We're trying to find that one selfish woman in the place we're pretty sure she's hiding in ”

“ Yes, but not even an hour we're searching for her. The big bug burst out of the ground hundreds of them! ”

“ That sounds pretty terrifying ”

“ It is ”

“ After that we're trying to find a safe place to hide. I found a rabbit hole and think it's a good place ”

“ I'm trying to tell Richard " it's not " but he doesn't listen... and now we're here ”

“ Hey, it's not my fall! Those bugs make me panic!! ”

“ You guys need to calm down a bit— but I'm surprised that both of you look very similar to The Magician twins ”

“ .... There's other twins!? ”

═════════════════

Bonus Doodle <3

[wedgieplease]

Roommate Wresting

It's been awhile, but I wanted to add some new content for others to enjoy!

My roommate, we’ll call him Dave, and I messed around with each other on a daily basis. Nothing too major, just the casual wrestling on the floor and “accidentally” spilling our drinks on each other. What wrestling match is complete without a couple wedgies!

Before I get into it, let me set the scene: Our dorm was pretty standard. Big enough for two twin lofts and two feet of space between them. Oh, and two wardrobes and two desks. Dave and I didn’t know each other until we moved in. We could’ve gotten in touch sooner, but why bother? Anyway, Dave was a tall guy, at least 6’4”. Me, on the other hand, I wasn’t even 6’, so there was an obvious height difference. Dave being Dave, he teased me about it, things like “everybody loves a short king”. It was annoying at first, but then I got used to it. 

The first few weeks were a bit awkward, just the nature of living with a stranger. We got to know each other pretty well though, we went to the mess hall for dinner together most weeknights. At dinner, we’d swap stories about high school. Neither of us were jocks, but we weren’t dorks either. I was good (enough) at math and he understood chemistry. We bonded over our old friends and all the crap we’d get up to with them. Eventually, we got comfortable with each other. 

One night, Dave was on the chair underneath his loft watching some nostalgic cartoon. I wanted to watch my current series, but he refused and jokingly started to pout. I cracked a joke like “if you’re gonna act like a child then I’ll start treating you like one”. To that, Dave held up the remote and taunted “At least I’m not throwing a tantrum for not getting my way”. That was it. I went for the remote, but he was too quick and pushed me back. I grabbed his arm and pulled him off the chair and we both crashed to the floor. 

He landed on top of me and tried to pin my arms to the floor, but he wasn’t fast enough. I grabbed one of his arms and pushed with my leg to get him off me. As I got up, he dove to tackle me. I pushed his head between my legs so he couldn’t move, when I noticed the struggle made his shirt ride up. I immediately latched onto the black waistband and gave a yank. 

“Hey! No fair!” he protested. 

“All’s fair in wrestling war” I joked.

“Well, in that case…” Dave muttered as he lifted my leg up and pulled so hard I fell to the floor. Before I could regain my senses, he spun me around and had my undies up to my shoulder blades. 

“It’s been a while since I gave someone a nasty wedgie”, he said as he grabbed my now-exposed legholes and proceeded to drag me across the room. 

Once he let go, I flopped back to the ground, defeated with my red briefs ballooning out of my shorts. 

“Come on dude, that was way worse than what I gave you!” I told him off as I shoved the sea of red back into my shorts. 

“You shoulda thought about that before you started it!” He retorted.

“Let me even the score, man, my ass is wrecked” I begged

“Did I hurt your widdle butt?” he taunted as he stuck out his in my face.

“You asked for this!” I spat, wasting no time grabbing his black waistband, and the handfull of white fabric that was still above his shorts. 

“Ye-OWW!” Dave jolted as his waistband reached his shoulder blades. 

“I’m not done yet!” I said as I swatted his hands away and grabbed the legholes that were starting to peak out of his shorts. Giving one more triumphant yank, I stepped back 

And admired how his legholes sat just above his pantsline.

“Jesus fuck, dude, ow.” Dave said as he put the white back where it belonged. “I’m gonna need to change now.”

“How do you think I feel?” I spat back.

“Again, you started it.” he said.

“Maybe if you had let me watch my show…”  I trailed off. 

“You musta given alot of these the way you pulled” Dave said. 

“It was usually one-sided with me and my friends. Me on the getting end, actually.“ I said, slightly embarrassed.

“Well. Remind me not to cross you again. Damn.” he said.

And that was the beginning of our shenanigans

[wishitweresummer]

Midnight Memories

Sitting Pretty (Chapter Eight)

Word count: 1113

Warning: A little angsty. Some kissing. More a fluff fic than a tickle fic for this one guys. <3

Dream was barely in the house when there was suddenly little hands tugging him forward and pressing him into the wall.

“Wha-!!”, he tried, but George’s lips silenced him. Before he knew it, he was melting into it and bringing his hands up to hold his face.

“I’m mad at Sapnap.”, was whispered against his lips. Dream pushed him away fast.

“Nope! I’m not getting into the middle of it!”, Dream declared, shoving past and making his get away fast.

“Dream!”, he squeaked, chasing.

“George!! Leave me out of it!!!”.

While he had been quick, George was quicker. In an instant, there was weight on his back and they both went crashing to the ground with a yell. George pressed Dream to the ground meanly, giggling.

“George, fuck off!”.

“No! Listen to me!”, he yelled. Dream slapped both of his hands over his ears. “Hey!!”. George poked into Dream’s sides fast.

“Hey!”, Dream squealed.

It was effective, but definitely a mistake. It only took a second for Dream to get George pinned on the floor of the living room.

“Okay, I’m sorry!”, he yelled through a flurry of giggles. His tail wrapped quickly around Dream’s ankle.

“Are you crazy? Do you want to get wrecked?”.

“No!!”. Dream raised his hand up in the air threateningly, making George scream in terror.

“What’s going on?”, Sapnap’s voice pulled both of their gazes up fast.

“Nothing!”. George squeaked out.

Sapnap stood above them with a little smirk of amusement on his face. George’s cheeks burned in embarrassment of being found in such a position.

“Anyway…Dream can we talk?”, Sapnap flashed a dangerous grin.

“No way!”, George yelled, trying to fight his way free. Dream looked between his idiots fondly. George whined, falling limp. “It’s not fair.”, he whispered. The tail that had been lovingly wrapped around Dream’s ankle fell away and Dream looked back at it.

“Huh? Wait…okay what’s going?”, Dream released George’s wrists and scooted off of him.

“Nothing.”, George scrambled to his feet and stalked out of the room. Dream and Sapnap watched after him in shock, stunned at the sudden change in vibe.

“Well…okay. So. I can tell you what we were arguing about. But, I didn’t realize how upset he was. Honest.”, Sapnap said nervously and stepped towards Dream as he got up.

“It’s okay.”, Dream pulled him into a hug and pressed a kiss to his hair. “I don’t think he did either.”.

~•~

Dream and Sapnap knocked quietly at George’s door before walking in. He was sat crosslegged on the bed watching TikTok’s. Seemingly, he had put on his collar.

“Hey Georgie.”, Dream said softly and they climbed up on the bed to join him.

“It’s stupid.”, he snapped and flicked his tail.

“Stop. Just tell us why you’re upset.”, Sapnap said and tugged George in to lean against his shoulder.

“I’m being dumb.”. George tossed his phone and put his face in his hands.

“You’re always dumb. We are very used to you Kitty. Sapnap says you guys were arguing about what would happen when the ball dropped on New Year’s?”.

“Yeah! But like, we were just kidding around!”, George exploded. “It’s so stupid! I don’t even care!”.

Despite the claim, George’s eyes were shining with unshed tears. Dream and Sapnap crushed him in a hug-sandwich, hushing him quietly.

“It’s okay, baby.”, Sapnap whispered.

They sat like that for a bit, letting George calm down. They both knew if he got too worked up, he wouldn’t share his feelings at all. It was always a delicate situation, dealing with George’s heart.

After awhile, he sighed.

“I didn’t get to kiss either of you last New Year’s. And you guys kissed each other.”, he spoke quietly. It wasn’t new information, but it made sense why George was telling them. That time where Dream and Sapnap were together with George stuck in England creeped back up to haunt his mind every once and a while.

“I’m sorry.”, Sapnap said and nuzzled his nose into one of George’s fluffy ears. “I shouldn’t have joked about it. You can kiss Dream for New Year’s.”. George scrunched away from the nuzzles, fighting a smile.

“That’s not what I want.”.

“It isn’t!?”, Dream gasped and pushed George into Sapnap gently. George giggled, pulling his hand up to block the noise.

“Well, I do. It’s complicated!”, he put his entire face into his hands, overwhelmed by the attention and his inability to stop his blush.

“You can have whatever you want in the entire world Kitty, okay?”, Sapnap nosed against the collar around his neck.

“Yeah, you choose. Neither of us will be mad. Unless you choose Sapnap.”, Dream grinned, giving George’s side a squeeze.

“Hey!”, he squealed and dropped against Sapnap to get away.

“Yeah, you better not pick Dream.”, Sapnap purred the words into his neck and dug meanly into both of his sides to make George shriek.

George with tears in his eyes from sadness was a rare sight, and both of them wanted to get the picture out of their heads as soon as possible.

They manhandled him onto his back between them, and he was already a giggly mess. Sapnap laughed at how Dream’s tail smacked against him at the sight of George’s smile.

“Don’t even think about it Sapnap, those lips are mine.”, Dream growled and grabbed at George’s ticklish hips. George screeched and smacked at the hands. Sapnap went in for the kill, tickling his ribs. George bucked and burst out laughing, always helpless under his boyfriends. He squirmed and screamed and begged, but it was useless when all his boyfriends wanted was his sweet laughter.

~•~

Of course, the real answer was so simple.

The Dream Team found themselves surrounded by friends on New Year’s Eve at Karl’s New Year’s Party.

The last ten seconds of the year were utter chaos. Karl was chasing Foolish around the room for a midnight kiss. Hannah and Sylvee giggling while trying to keep their drinks from spilling, cheering Karl on. Tina and George were blowing horns back and forth, trying to out-loud each other. They were both winning. Punz and Sapnap were counting along. Dream was smiling, just taking it all in.

At the last two seconds, George and Sapnap dropped what they were doing to rush Dream.

“Oh god!”, Karl yelled at the scene.

It was a complete mess; the way they all shoved their lips together in a messy three-way kiss. It didn’t work at all. All three of them were giggling and trying to shove closer.

But, they entered the new year together.

“Let’s go!!!”, George screamed as loud as he could. “Happy New Year!!!”, they all yelled.

(Art by @kazenomegaminowanpisu )

[dgknightblue]

Crazy idea:

TFA

Optimus stumbles across one of Megatron’s book (he uses fake designations to publish) and since he’s never read this book he takes it and reads all of it.

Optimus has never heard of this book or the author and likes the book.

Megatron is angry that the only copy left of that book is gone. Then he sees Optimus reading and is confused. Why is the auto bot reading it out in the open?

One day Sari asks: what are you reading?

“Found this old book, thought it might have decepticon secrets, but it’s probably just propaganda. But I have to say it’s really good propaganda, can’t seem to put it down.”

“Oh can I read?”

“I’m not you know this language, how about I read it to you?”

“Yes please!”

So Sari and Optimus read the book together sometimes before bed.

“Wish there were more.”

“I know- but we’d have to go to a decepticon hideout to possible even find one.”

Optimus realized that there might be a whole stash of books on the crash site on the moon. He takes such a task on.

“What do you think your doing here autobot?”

Starscream points his blasters at him. A book fell out of his servos. They stare at it and then at each other.

“….nothing.”

Another fell out of his servos.

“Don’t tell anyone and I won’t say where you are.”

“…..fine, but take this one. It’s much better than all of those. Now that I think about it- here. These are ones you should start with. Ugh come back and next time I’ll have them ready.”

“Sure.”

Starscream joins their little book club. Lug nut surprisingly does too. Optimus is the one reading the books out loud to everyone.

If they manage to finish all of the books…

“There is one left but I don’t know where it is.”

“Do you have a copy lug nut?”

“No, only our glorious leader has it.”

“Guess we’ll never see how it all ends..”

“It’s okay Sari. We weren’t suppose to read them anyway. How about we find another series? From earth?”

“I don’t know, after reading this one… the sakes are high.”

“Guess we’re disbanded?”

“Or we reread them all over again!”

They do in fact read them all over again.

The club slowly gains members from the decepticon side. Black Arachnia came because she missed hearing Optimus reading out loud. Wreck gar came because friendship.

Sometimes they act out scenes they like.

[heliosthegriffin]

Some Crack

AN: I haven’t wrote any crack in a while.

“Well fuuuuuck, you too!” Jaune yells into his scroll, as he storms around the room knocking down anything on the shelves.

Nora and Pyrrha hide under the bed holding each other, while Ren is on-top of the bed in a pillow fort.

“Pssst~, Pyrrha!” Nora yells into Pyrrha’s elbow.

“Yes?” Pyrrha asks, with her head on top of Nora, petting the smaller red-head.

“What’s Jaune mad about?”

Crash!

A book shelf topples over, spilling out Nora’s collection of syrups.

“You harpy-ious whore!” Jaune kicks the bookshelf out of his way. The words, dick and fox and cream cheese come out of the phone, but and not necessary in that order, Jaune screams back into the scroll. “I will rip out your trachea and rub sandpaper through it, bitch!”

Pyrrha shivers. “I don’t know, but I find it kinda hot!”

Nora’s head looks down at her now wet legs. “I kinda noticed.” She taps the top of the bed. “Ren?”

“Who disturbs the Wizard of the Cloud-Pillow Fortress?” Ren answers, as a piece of the bed slides back, showing Ren’s eyes.

“Nora. Me. I disturb you.”

A boot goes flying through the wall.

Followed by a wall flying through the wall.

Replacing the back wall with the front wall, leaving a open entrance into the hallway, where everybody could see what was going on. If they were going through the hallway, which Dr. Oobleck was, who merely looked on in horror before running away.

“And we both knew that I was faking it!” Jaune bellowed into his scroll, with the sounds of sobbing coming out of it. “Say it again! I double dragon dare you to say that about by cinnamon apple muffins! ... How dare you!” Jaune eyes start to water.

“Ren, who’s Jaune talking too?”

“I dunno.”

Blake peeps through the opening too.

Much to Ren’s surprise.

“How long have you been in here? Wait how did you get in here?”

Blake looks at Ren with maximum dilated pupils. “If I fitz, I sitz.”

“If we fitz we sitz!” Chimes in several other cat Faunus, including Sienna, Neon, and Kali, who almost now were inside the pillow fort.

“Ahh!” Ren yelps and hides under the bed with Nora and Pyrrha. “Why is it so wet down here?”

Jaune kicks open team RWBY’s door, storming in and knocking over the bunk beds and anything on the walls. “Why are you like this! We could have shined like diamond and twinkies together! But, NNOOOOOOO! You had to be a smelly pirate mobster!

Blake slaps a sign on the pillow fort reading, ‘Kitty Faunus only!’ Sun, Adam, and Ghira look disappointedly at before wandering off to go get drunk together.

Ren begins mobbing under the bed, with Pyrrha and Nora hiding on Jaune’s bed now, surprised to find the remaining members of team RWBY hiding there already, with Cinder’s team hiding underneath.

Nora looks disappointingly. “Dang it.”

Ruby looks smugly at them, holding a Jaune dakimakura. “You snooze you loose. Anyway, why’s Jaune so mad?”

Jaune had wandered into the courtyard, and flipped a station wagon that was parked next to the fountain.

Peter Port looks at his wrecked car, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

Weiss blushes. “It’s kinda hot, though.”

Pyrrha opens her mouth to agree, but Nora covers it with her hand. “We know, anyway, no idea.”

Jaune walks up the side of Ozpins tower, the Wizard standing protectively in-front of his coffee maker.

“I want my son back, Jennifer! I will win the custody battle, you mad-woman!”

A look of understanding hits the assembled hunters and villains.

“Wait, he has a son!?” Ruby says with shock.

“He was married!?“ Pyrrha asks.

“So, that means he’s single, right?” Cinder realizes smugly.

Everyone looks at her, disappointingly.

“What, not like the rest of you weren’t thinking it!”

Then they all look away whistling, innocently.

“And, I’ve finally cleaned up that stain.” Ren nods to himself.

Jaune walks back in. “Guys, can I ask you one of you act as witness of my moral character in court?”

They look around the batter, broken, and beaten room, like a hurricane had gone through it.

Sun, Adam, and Ghira reappear. “We will do it!”

And so the four of them left, as brothers!

[xadoheandterra]

Series: Semblance Title: Patriciate Fandom: Jak and Daxter Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI Characters: Jak, Daxter, Samos, Keira, Kid!Jak, Ashelin, Torn, Tess Tags: Worldbuilding, Accidentally King of Haven!Jak, hurt/comfort, things go wrong, things get better, things get worse again, slow build, slow burn, slow to update, cross posted, fantasy racism, canon divergence, been meaning to share this here Summary: “It’s yours,” Jak said softly. “Keep it…remember where you come from. At least one of us should remember….”

If Jak knew the consequences of that one, selfish choice…well, he’d probably have made the same decision either way.

Jak takes a trip up to the power station. He is not pleased.

​“Bring him home, Jak.”

Jak breathed out heavily as he stared at the wreck that was the Industrial District. Daxter, on his shoulder, remained eerily silent as they looked out at the wreckage. Half-on-fire zoomers still littered the ground alongside metal head bodies, puddles of dark eco, and elfin corpses alike. When Ashelin and Torn flew Jak and the others back into the city nobody got a really good look at the damage except for the Stadium, Main Town, and the Waterfront. He focused on the immediate, and by the time they’d gotten back anyway most of the cleanup they already found accomplished. Now Jak couldn’t help but wonder if putting off this expedition for so long merely meant he attempted to hide from what he knew to be there.

Nobody mentioned the other districts, really, and Jak doubted they’d even want to. Not if the Industrial district looked like this. Jak fought down the urge to flinch and instead picked his way around the zoomers and corpses. Each time he passed a pool of dark eco he could feel his lungs burn as his body subconscious absorbed everything within reach.

“You gonna be okay?” Daxter asked quietly to his ear, but in the silence the words were frighteningly loud.

“Yeah,” Jak replied through gritted teeth.

“My fur itches,” Daxter complained.

“My skin burns,” Jak said back, and then they lapsed into silence. “We gotta do this.”

“Vin deserves it,” Daxter agreed, and ducked his head.

“They all deserve it,” Jak countered as he stepped around a mangled corpse pinned underneath a zoomer.

“What do you think the slums looks like?” Daxter asked, voice a bit faint. “The water slums?”

“I don’t want to think about it, Dax,” Jak whispered.

They continued the trek in silence, and Jak wondered how many people knew the state of the rest of Haven. Did Ashelin know the extent of the destruction? Did Torn? How many survivors were stuck behind walls and barricades of red, green, and yellow? Jak clenched his hands tight around his gun and girt his teeth. This was his city for better or worse, now, and nobody thought fit to tell him a thing. They were more worried about his knowledge of the political scene.

“Shit, Jak,” Daxter breathed as they inched their way up to the second level. Whole sections of the walkway appeared to have collapsed, probably from some abnormally large metal bug. Jak sucked in a sharp breath and picked his way across the crumbling path. He made sure to set each jump down as gingerly as he could, and swallowed heavily at each ruined wall and zoomer.

“Yeah,” Jak said hoarsely.

“D’you think anyone’s trapped?” Daxter questioned as they slipped around a still on-fire Hellcat—how they remained on fire Jak didn’t want to know. All of the flames by now should be burnt out, right? “D’you think the fighting’s even stopped here?”

“I don’t know, Dax,” Jak replied. “I don’t know.”

“This’ gotta change.”

“Yeah.”

Toward the last stretch before the power station, and Jak wondered how they even got the communications tower back up and running if the Industrial district still looked this bad, Jak monkeyed himself over a few construction beams that helped hold the walkway up in the first place, and slipped around yet another crashed zoomer. His ears twitched, some sort of faint sniffling sound—a gas leak, or water leak, or something—caught his attention.

“You hear that?” Jak asked lowly. He crouched down and shifted his feet so that they were a bit wider as his fingers adjusted the mod on the gun.

“Sounds like cryin’,” Daxter said back. “You think there’s a kid?”

“I was thinking more like a gas leak,” Jak muttered and carefully stepped around the zoomer. He nudged the wreck with his gun and winced at the unholy sound it unleashed, which almost drowned out the frightened scream. Daxter bolted from his shoulder and Jak jerked with a shout of, “Dax!”

“Jak there’s a kid!” Daxter hollered back from the hole he’d wiggled into. Jak cursed loudly and quickly holstered the gun.

“Alright, alright,” he breathed out sharply and tried to shove down the twist of the dark eco, the rage at this mess from overwhelming him. “Kid okay? Kid hurt? C’mon Dax, speak to me.”

“Scraped and banged up,” Daxter called back. “Broken wrist? Arm? I can’t tell. S’too dark.”

Jak scrubbed a hand down his face and closed his eyes. His breath shuddered and he tried to think of someone, anyone, that could be a calming influence. His mind kept on jumping over to Ashelin and Torn and the Council and possibly ripping people a whole new one. He grit his teeth.

“Okay,” Jak said. “Okay. Can you get the kid out?”

“Maybe?”

“Get ‘em over to a zoomer,” Jak instructed. “One of the wrecks, we’ll salvage it. Or something. I’ll check out the Power Station, find Vin. We’ll…figure something out.” Jak cursed. “Precursors!” He stomped over to the door to Vin’s Power Station a bit unneeded, but it helped burn off the twisted feeling beneath his skin.

Jak flexed his fingers and wanted to curse as the tips burned with the same intensity of his mouth. He didn’t doubted that his nails were now blackened, or that his canines elongated. He didn’t even question it, because the sparks of dark eco that leaped off of him as he reached toward the rubble that blocked the doorway told him enough already. He could feel his head throb, feel the burn of horns that itched beneath his skull. Jak let out a frightening roar as he tossed aside what blocked the doorway, eyes dark as pitch. He heaved, his arms and legs shook. Off in the distance he could hear a resounding crash and winced—he wondered if he’d hit a survivor? Perhaps killed someone again without thinking, without realizing—Jak hissed between his teeth and gripped at his ears—his scarf prevented him from actually grabbing his hair—and pushed the burn down.

Not now. Not now precursors damn it all. It felt like a thousand ants raced along his veins and muscular tissue. Each breath felt like he breathed in gravel. Jak shuddered and moved toward the door—he couldn’t lose control here. Outside, outside of Haven, away from people maybe. Maybe. The Forest no doubt—he could find metal bugs aplenty there and truly let loose, truly let everything he forced himself to seal away now free. With that silent promise Jak shouldered the rest of the way into the Power Station and had to stop.

Metal heads, metal bugs, dark eco by what felt like tankards. Jak stumbled, dizzy. The mere scent of it all so overwhelmingly painful it forced him to his knees. He let out a faint keening cry and tried to rub his hands over his face, tried to ignore the way his body felt bloated and ballooned around his skeleton. Jak bit his lip, tried to focus on the pain and past the mess—past the burnt out consoles and the sparking electronics.

Vin. He came here for Vin. Jak breathed in sharply, coughed hard enough to burst a blood vessel in his throat and spat out what little blood gathered in his mouth. He shoved aside the metal heads nearest to him and looked hard for wherever Vin could be. He had to be here somewhere—somewhere—

A boot. Jak reached blindly for it, shoved away the two metal heads that blocked his view, and unearthed pants, a leg, an arm—Jak grit his teeth. He shoved away what he could and—there, there Vin lay.

“H-Hey buddy,” Jak mumbled. “Sorry it took…so long.” He didn’t know what Vin wore on his head, but it looked tacky and the design bulky. Jak figured it for some kind of last defense Vin made, not that it did any good once the shield wall went down. “Gonna…take you back home, okay?”

Despite the ruined state of the room, electronics, and the numerous corpses Vin looked almost pristine. Even with the tears in his clothes and the obvious killing blow Jak couldn’t find anything that even suggested the metal heads got any further than just hitting him the once. He breathed out heavily and grasped at Vin’s corpse, before he hailed it up and onto his shoulder. Exhausted, dizzy, and definitely oversaturated with more dark eco than he could remember getting stuffed into his body for a long time, Jak stumbled out of the power station.

He stumbled all the way over to the zoomer Daxter hotwired, carefully arranged Vin in the backseat, behind the sniffling kid, and picked his way back toward the Palace.

Ashelin came tearing out of the Palace the minute Jak pulled up in the stolen and hotwired zoomer. She looked infuriated, but Jak ignored her in favor of the kid in the front seat, and Vin in the back. He helped Daxter get the kid out of the zoomer, and then reached over and hauled Vin up onto his shoulder.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Ashelin demanded. Jak brushed past her with Vin, one hand gently guiding the trembling child while Daxter held the kid’s uninjured arm and chatted soothingly away. “Five days Jak! I’ve been looking everywhere for you for five days and don’t you dare ignore me!”

Jak slipped through the open doors to the Palace, carefully laid Vin down on one of the couches in the open foyer that served both as a trophy room for Baron Praxis back when he had control, and a receiving room that intimidated guests. The woman behind the front counter gasped at the sight of the corpse, and at the way Jak carefully handled it. Not even a second after making sure Vin’s body lay comfortably did the elevator doors open and Zoe come tearing through them faster than anyone her age should. Jak looked up at her, still ignoring Ashelin’s continued tirade, and tiredly spoke up for the first time since he unearthed Vin’s corpse.

“I brought him home, Zoe,” Jak breathed out. Ashelin fell completely silent when he spoke. “Like I promised.”

Zoe stumbled as she slowed down, and then without heed to her clothes or how it might look to others, she threw herself over towards Vin’s corpse and let herself cry. Jak closed his eyes, pressed his lips together, and breathed out sharply through his nose. When he opened his eyes he directed them right to Ashelin, and she could see the purple bleeding black that began to overtake them.

“We need to talk,” Jak said, and his voice sounded a bit rougher. “Now, Ashelin.”

Ashelin swallowed heavily, glanced to Vin and the sobbing Matriarch that named Jak King back in the council chambers almost a week ago, and without a word promptly turned on heel and headed toward the elevators. Jak nudged the boy at his side along and gestured to the receptionist calmly.

“Lyra, get a hold of Samos and bring him here,” Jak said, eyes hard as he tugged his scarf off from his head. “Have a couple of packs of green eco delivered upstairs with him.”

Lyra the receptionist nodded quickly and Jak followed Ashelin into the elevator with the kid and Daxter. Ashelin stood stiff off to the side, and she looked fit to burst but kept her mouth shut. Jak felt grateful for that; he knew he looked frightening at the moment. With forced calm Jak settled against the back rail of the elevator, watched the doors slid shut, and waited. It didn’t even take a minute before Ashelin whirled around.

“Where the hell have you been?” she demanded.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me that half the city remained in ruins?” Jak said slowly. He side-eyed Ashelin who looked like she swallowed a lemon for a moment. “Why didn’t anyone tell me that half the city hadn’t been cleaned up?”

“We’ve been busy—” Ashelin started.

“Going over useless crap,” Jak spat. “How many people are trapped, Ashelin, without food, water, or supplies?” He turned fully this time, teeth ground together. “How many injured? How many dead?”

“Jak that isn’t—”

“You made me King!”

Ashelin jerked back, and the kid at Jak’s side whimpered. Jak breathed out slowly, closed his eyes, and forced the burn of eco back. He clenched one hand at his side and kept the other relaxed enough to rub soothing circles against the kid’s back.

“You made me King, Ashelin,” Jak said softer. When he opened his eyes they were barely tinged purple. “You put me in charge of this entire city. Do you think I care about learning the most prominent families when there are still people dying out there?”

“We drop supplies regularly,” Ashelin said. She kept her voice soft, almost soothing. “Shipments of food, water, anything we can spare.”

“Spare?” Jak shook his head. “Out of all the districts which ones do you think were hit the hardest? Main Town? The noble houses? The Waterfront? The Stadium? Or was it the Industrial district? The Bazaar? The slums?”

Ashelin swallowed.

“How many people are trapped in buildings half collapsed, starving and drying from disease and dark eco poisoning? How many children?” Jak questioned, lips pressed thin. “The shield wall hasn’t even been fully repaired yet, how many metal heads still roam streets? How many people die while you force me to learn useless facts about a government that sits on its laurals?”

“Jak…” Ashelin picked her words carefully. “You have…you can’t make changes so easily. There’s protocols…the council has to approve things—I have a point to this, Jak. I do.”

Jak turned away.

“Get together the Underground, their KG minders, and start cleaning up the other districts,” Jak said. He completely ignored Ashelin’s words. “Starting with the industrial sections. We need that shield up and fully functional. Move refugees to the Waterfront and Stadium, and Main Town.”

“Jak you can’t—”

“Are you in charge of the KG or not, Lady Praxis?” Jak demanded sharply and Ashelin fell silent. “Am I not your King?” She swallowed, the doors to the elevator opened, and Jak carefully ushered the kid out. “Go and start recovery efforts. We’ve wasted enough time.”

“But what will we—”

“I’ll handle it.”

Ashelin shoved herself toward the elevator doors before they could close.

“How?!” she demanded. “How will you handle it?”

Jak paused, then glanced back at her. “You have three hours to get the KG and the Underground moving. In three hours everyone from the Sage lines will meet here for an emergency session. Am I clear?”

“But—”

“Am I clear, Ashelin?” Jak demanded, tone a bit sharper, and Ashelin jerked.

“Yes,” she bit out. Jak nodded, turned back around, and led the kid toward his rooms. He kept the careful façade of calm the rest of the way. There was way too much to do, right now, and first priority was to make sure the kid was healed up and had a place to go. He’d deal with everything else—and whether they listened—after that.

Ashelin stomped into her rooms within the Palace, a veritable cloud of rage storming around her. She breezed past the couch where Torn lounged, face drawn and tired as he stared at the television without really seeing it. She practically stomped all the way to her office and slammed the door shut with a loud bang. On the couch Torn pulled his hands over his face, twisted around, and got to his feet.

“Ashe?” Torn called. He leaned his back against the office door and knocked. “Ashe?” He could hear a thump, and the door rattled a bit. Torn sighed. “Don’t throw shit at the door, Ashe.”

“Fuck off!”

Torn groaned. “Ashelin what is going on?” The door shook again, and this time Torn could hear something shatter. Within the office Ashelin cursed, and wisely Torn shifted from the path of the doorway just in time for a knife to slice through it. “Ashelin what the hell is going on?”

For a moment, silence, and then the door yanked open and Ashelin stared at Torn with fury. The red of her eyes almost twisted with the eco Torn knew resided within her very blood, and Torn wanted to grimace. Out of everyone that he or Ashelin knew only a small handful of people could get her this worked up, and given the way things recently worked out Torn could bet on at least two people who pissed Ashelin off.

“Where is he?” Torn asked, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t even dressed for this shit right.

“In his rooms,” Ashelin ground out.

“And what did he do?” Torn asked. Besides disappear for five days. Ashelin stared at Torn for a long moment, then closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. Torn relaxed the slightest bit; if Ashelin was trying to calm herself then whatever it was definitely meant good things down the road.

That didn’t mean of course whatever got her pissed wasn’t good for the immediate situation.

“I have been commanded to move out the Underground and the KG,” Ashelin said, and her teeth were grit together.

Torn breathed out heavily and closed his eyes. “Well,” he said tiredly, “it was only a matter of time before he found out.”

“We don’t have the manpower for a rescue!” Ashelin practically shrieked. Torn jerked away from her and frowned.

“We don’t have the manpower because over half of our forces are still trapped and in need of that rescue, Ashe.” Ashelin’s mouth clicked shut. “You and I both know that we should have taken care of the other districts over a week ago.”

“But the council—” Ashelin protested.

“The council only cares for its own interests,” Torn pointed out. “Ashe, you know this.”

Ashelin looked away and scowled.

“Are you upset he gave you an order, or are you upset you couldn’t get this done yourself?” Torn quarried, one eyebrow raised.

“Shut up, Torn,” Ashelin grumbled. Torn smirked and Ashelin punched him in the arm. “Help me get the word out. I’ve got less than three hours.”

Torn blinked. Jak put a time limit on this? That the Commander hadn’t expected. Cautiously he asked, “Why?”

“Jak’s called an emergency session for the Sage lines,” Ashelin breathed out slowly. “All remaining direct descendants are required to attend.”

Torn nodded. If anything it made sense, although he wondered how Jak knew to even call for an emergency session. Ashelin hadn’t gotten around to discussing what emergency sessions entailed, or the reasons to even call on them yet as far as Torn knew. He cokced his head as he thought about that, and then as the reason for the session abruptly clicked. Torn wanted to laugh.

“Fuck, Mar, no wonder the kid doesn’t want to listen to political ramblings,” he said as he scrubbed his hand through his hair.

Ashelin, halfway back into her office, turned around. “What does that mean?!”

“Ashe, he knows Zoe,” Torn said with a snort. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it. Mar.” Ashelin blinked, took a second to think it over, then cursed.

“Why didn’t you tell me this, Torn!?” she demanded, decided it wouldn’t be worth it to have the argument when she had work to do, and turned around to finish fishing out the jury-rigged communications system that’d gotten buried.

“I didn’t think of it,” Torn protested. “Mar, I didn’t even realize how much like King Damas Jak even looked until after I finished up his hair. Put him in front of Zoe, someone who knew King Damas as a kid?” In retrospect the whole thing was actually obvious, but Torn couldn’t fault himself for not knowing. King Damas had been ousted when he was a kid and he could barely remember what the last monarch looked like—almost all materials on him had been removed. Plus Torn’s duties kept growing—keep Jak safe, deal with the emergency protocols and responses for the KG and the Underground, help with rescue operations—so he couldn’t be aware of everything.

“Fine! I wasted a week then!”

Torn rolled his eyes and moved back over toward the couch. He picked up his jacket and the breathing apparatus that attached to it, and calmly began to shrug the clothing back on. “Do you want me to say sorry?”

“Torn, just get the word out!”

“Yes ma’am,” Torn replied sarcastically. He slipped out the door before Ashelin could say anything, fingers already tightening the jacket closed. He shook his head; Jak never ceased to amaze him on the amount of trouble he got into.

[a-skirmish-of-wit-and-lit]

How the Wallflower Was Won (Last Chance Scoundrels #2) by Eva Leigh

What do you get when you mix an adept gambler, a bluestocking wallflower, and a marriage of convenience? That's right, you guessed it. HISTORICAL ROMANCE CATNIP.

The ingredients to that can only be found with Finn and Tabitha. It can only be blamed on their flaming attraction toward one another despite the oh-so "practical" terms of their arrangement. It's no secret that neither one of them have love down as a requirement for marriage. It's not in the cards. No bets necessary! In fact, Finn and Tabitha come together out of necessity - she, to gain admittance into an all-male intellectual society which requires her to have a husband; he, to make good on his deal to find a wife in under a year so that he, his brother, and his friend, Dom, don't have their funds cut off by their ultimatum-making families.

Since Finn has a learning disability, he has low self-worth. He believes he's not a suitable enough match for the erudite catch that is Tabitha, having heard his whole life that he's "unintelligent" and "ignorant," so he initially tries to set her up with Dom instead. That crashes and burns pretty quickly. In part, because Dom's still reeling from his wrecked nuptials with Willa, and in part, because Tabitha's trying to get into the Sterling Society before a new educational reform bill is passed. She, like Finn, has been underestimated. Undervalued. Invisible to men and society for much of her life, especially by way of her academic gifts. With heartbreak marring her past, she has learned to operate by logic rather than emotion, coming to believe that her heart is not something she can afford to risk.

The stakes are high for them both in different ways, but together, they weigh the logistics and decide to marry, leaving love completely off the table...

That is until love calls, anyway. Forcing them to roll the dice and play one Ace of a hand.

This was a solid follow-up to the first in the series. I liked how fervently Finn worshipped Tabitha for her mind, the way he championed her intellectual pursuits at all costs and seemed to fall more in love with her because of them. Tabitha was equally supportive. She not only encouraged Finn to open his own gaming hell but she saw he was shrewd and analytical and made sure he knew that. (In this house, we love couples who support each other!) I didn't care for their climactic conflict at the end, though. It seemed to build up out of nowhere and the apology afterwards was too one-sided when they were both in the wrong.

That said, I was grateful for the hefty dollops of spice, for the marriage of convenience trope, which is a favorite of mine, and for the foundations that were set in place for Dom and Willa. (I have a hunch they're going to ruin me. And to that I say: bring it on!)

Special thanks to NetGalley and Avon and Harper Voyager for the ARC in exchange for my review.

3/5 stars

**Follow me on Goodreads

[chidnoels]

you said it was okay and "would all blow over soon." what does that even mean? are you serious? i thought i meant more than that. losing me really is just okay to you? losing you was the end of my world. a week after you said it was over i already lost 8 pounds. i couldn't eat. i couldn't sleep without waking up shaking and crying. i couldn't work the job i got for you. i cried at school. i cried at work when i dragged myself in just to keep that job i grew to hate. 4 months later, i still can't listen to my favorite band. i can't eat mexican food. just seeing people hold hands makes me nauseous. a win for me is going a day without sobbing crying. you gave me a reason to stay around. i didn't believe i was capable of love before you showed it to me. i was fully accepting that i would never really love and i would spend most of my life on my own. but with you, i wanted to marry. i wanted to have a baby with you. sleep in your bed. i wanted to move to washington with you because thats where you wanted to live. you changed my views on love and life and my plans and i wouldn't hesitate to give up everything i have for you. i bought you expensive gifts and wrote you letters. you gave me a reason to take care of my body when all it made me feel before was shame. i worked for you to buy you things and see you and be there. you told me before you left how you wanted to stay. just one night before. you said you wanted to marry me a minute before you cut me off. then the next two months of torturing each other. you flirted with me. you wouldn't admit that. but you did. you called me nicknames and asked me to call you them too. maybe i was naive for believing someone could love me that way. maybe you only loved me because you hated yourself. you'll marry a man one day and i'll be on my own like i knew from the start. i told you this would happen. but i let us both attach anyway. i shouldn't have done it. i know i have an addictive personality. i'm too harsh and you're too delicate. i am stupid. we were wrecks before we crashed into eachother.

[salasalasalamander]

I WROTE A BOOK pt1

this is the first book ive written

¹Chapter 1

Sniff sniff sniiifffff. My eyes cracked open—a stray dog was sniffing my face. Shluuurp. The stray dog seemed to enjoy the smell of someone who has been on a bender for a week. Well, that's one way to wake up. I stood up and cans clinked across the sand. I felt like I had been through a motorcycle crash. 

I realized I was lying in a hole on a beach with singed clothing and a broken watch. I checked my pockets for clues to where I was, but only found half a pack of Mallgorillas and an empty pack of Oldsea matches from the bar down the corner from my home. I started looking for the car wreck I must have windshield-cannoned from, but I could only see a rusted-out pickup truck in the distance. 

I walked along the beach and up some stairs. I figured I must be really far out into the country because there was a truck here; you never see a vehicle this close to a city. Beyond the truck there was a wooded area that looked maintained enough that it could be a park, so I headed in that direction, really hoping for a forest ranger station. 

I walked through the park for a while until I saw two people sitting on a bench. One was a muscular goth chick and the other was a scrawny greature of a man. There was a six pack on the bench next to them and more cans in a backpack at their feet. 

Looking back, maybe I should have been suspicious of their lack of horns, but on the other hand, maybe they both just had Male Pattern Hornlessness. (There are two types of hornlessness: Type I is physical abrasion, while Type II is a degenerative disease. With your donation, we can put an end to Brittlehorn.)

I walked up to them and said: "Hey, I have two questions: can I have a light? Also, where the fuck am I?"

The goth chick replied, "You can have a light if we can have a cig." 

"Hell yeah," I said, handing them each a cigarette. 

"Thanks, man," the goth chick said as they lit all three cigarettes. "We're in Throwweptain Park."

"Oh, I meant that more generally," I said. "I've never seen a grainy beach on the mainland before."

"No, we're in Salttray Park," the scrawny guy chimed in. 

I looked past them and saw a sign hanging from a tree that said "Cheesecliffe Park". 

"Hey, I'm still on the mainland, right?" I asked. 

"Yeah, we're in Florida," the scrawny guy said. "What mainland do you mean?"

"You know, Dregg?" I said. They both looked at me like I had three heads.  

"What are you talking about, man?" the scrawny guy asked. "Did that mai tai do some damage?"

"Yeah, are you good?" the goth chick said. "You're like, bleeding a bit, dude." 

I put my hand to my forehead. There was a trickle of blood going into my left eye. "Oh yeah, I woke up in a hole today. Pass me a beer."

"Oh yeah, I know those days," the scrawny guy said as he handed me a can of Brockman's.

"So what happened to you? You look like you fell out of a car," he continued.

"I think I got my ass kicked, y'know…" I said, trying to remember. "I think it was at a party. I'm not sure how long ago. I'm not sure what happened but I was having a blast."

"You don't seem too concerned," the goth chick said. "Does this happen to you often?"

Oh man, did I have strange dealings with the bridgeman, that guy who's always under the bridge? What's his name again? The guy who makes various white powders? I must have been really off the rails…or on them I thought. Or at least, I thought I had thought it, but it turns out I said it out loud. I must have hit my head pretty hard. 

They were both staring at me. "This isn't the first car wreck I've woken up in," I told them. "But this wasn't as bad as the time I went off the bridge into the ocean. It was co-o-old. I probably would have died if I wasn't wearing winter hunting gear."

"And I thought the winters at home were bad," the goth chick said. 

I took a drag of my cigarette. "No shit." I wiped the blood off my eye. "Anyway, my name is Deer. What's yours?"

The scrawny guy began to answer first. "I'm Anthony—"

"JANE." The goth chick interrupted him in a loud, strange tone. Then they smiled awkwardly and wiped a bit of lipstick off their teeth.

I returned the smile and wiped a bit of blood off my own teeth. "So, how are you guys getting back into town? Come on down to my home-bar."

"You have a bar in your home?" Anthony asked.

"Nah, my home IS the bar," I replied. "It's a dive on the second storey of a ramshackle building in the toxic waste part of town. There's a lot of fake mahogany in it. I sleep in one of the booths with a blanket and a heater. I 'work' full-time security for the guy who owns it. It's a deal I worked out—he lets me live there and gives me food and beer all day and I bounce people for him."

"Sounds like a pretty sweet setup," Anthony said. "We're pretty far from the nearest town, though."

"Do you want to sleep on my couch tonight?" Jane asked. 

"That sounds warmer than a cubicle," I said. 

"We're hosing you down on the front lawn first," Jane said. "It's like chipping paint."

"What do you mean by that?" Anthony asked. 

Jane said, "You know when you can see the layers of graffiti on a wall? Just tags on tags? That's what the crust on you looks like."

"That's fair," I replied. "It's hard to find the motivation to shower when the shower is a sink in a bar bathroom."

"Sometimes I just use the soda gun behind the bar. You can use a lime instead of soap in a pinch, and bar towels get the job done. It's more refreshing than you'd think."

Jane snorted, but Anthony nodded sagely in understanding.

"Ah, yes," Anthony said. "I used to bathe in rivers, I get it."

"I think you have a concussion," Jane said. "Let's get you home."

"Do you know a good doctor?" I asked.

"There's only two kinds of doctors in this world, man," Anthony said. "Good doctors and cheap doctors. And we can't afford the good ones."

"I know a guy who sews up bullet wounds for five dollars a pop," I said.

"That sounds good, let's do that," Jane said. 

We walked out of the park to the parking lot to find Jane's car. Jane's car was a rusted dark green Chrysler New Yorker that had been lifted, but it was an old lift kit so the frame was beginning to sink again, giving the entire car an off-kilter appearance. 

"The car sits even when it gets to over 40, so as long as the cops don't see us while we're in an under 40 zone, we'll be fine," Jane assured us.

"Yeah, but it starts rocking at 80," Anthony said. "So you have to keep it between 40 and 80 because that's as smooth as this car drives."

"Partymobile," I said. "At least it has all 4 doors still."

As I said this, I tried to open the door behind the driver's seat. The entire door came off in my hand, clattering to the ground making me step back in dodge.

Jane just said, "I got this. Hold the door for me, would ya?" They went to the trunk and got a hammer and some nails, and then with one hand picked up the door put it in place nocked a nail between her fingers and  hammered the nail halfway in held the door with her knee and hammered it the rest of the way down  

We got in the car and started driving. As I looked out the window, I started thinking, Man, I must be really far out in the country. I've never been here before. I didn't know there was still this much island left that I hadn't seen.

I started to feel carsick and the rocking didn't help. "I think that head wound did some damage," I said. "I just need to sit in the dark of a bar." I didn't know where my home was, but I figured anywhere that's dingy and skunky is home. 

Jane pulled over at the first roadside bar that we came across. It was called The Shady Ox. As we walked in the door, I watched Anthony bump into someone on their way out and steal their wallet. He opened the wallet and looked at the ID once we sat down.

"Hey, I think that guy stole this wallet," Anthony said, holding up the ID. The person in the picture looked nothing like the guy who he had bumped into.

"Who are you to judge?" I asked. "You just stole his wallet."

"Yeah, but it still has cash in it!" he said, giving me and Jane each a share of about 10 dollars. I looked out the window and saw the guy getting into an unmarked white van. 

"I think he was a cop," Anthony said. "I've been busted by undercovers before."

"Who, them? Outside in the car?" said Jane, he would have busted you if he was a cop

We all leaned over to look out the window. "What the hell is that?" I asked. There was some kind of bizarre animal sitting on top of the garbage cans outside of the bar. It looked like a little hairy man with a mask and black gloves. "He looks like a small burglar."

"That little felon man is called a raccoon," Jane explained. 

"A racket?" I asked. "Wait… you don't normally see a dog with all four legs together like that. It's too symmetrical. Someone must have made that rocket dog."

"'Too symmetrical'? What does wildlife look like wherever the hell you're from?" Jane asked. 

I took a picture of my childhood dog out of my wallet. He had two heads and mostly straight legs, though the third back one was on a pretty serious angle. "All in all a pretty standard dog, right?" I said, showing them the picture. "The second head breathed fire sometimes. That was pretty cool. I'd always lose my lighters so the lil bastard came in handy. Man, I loved that dog."

Jane and Anthony stared at me in stunned silence. The waitress came by and placed our beers on the table. "So what childhood pets did you have?" I asked.

"...I had a chow…" Jane said. 

"I had a cat with a missing leg," Anthony added, nodding sagely. 

"So… where did you say you were from again?" Jane asked. 

"Dregg," I said.

"I've never heard of a Dregg," Anthony said. Jane looked at their phone. 

"I just looked it up but all I could find was a rap-metal fusion band," Jane said.

"So is that a 'sold to One Direction' kind of situation or what?" Anthony asked.

"What is that?" I replied.

The look on Jane's face shifted from confusion to excitement.

"Would you call yourself a traveler?" they asked.

"What?"

"Are you from another dimension?" Jane pressed.

"I mean, I could be? I don't really know where I am now!" I said. "It's too far away from the ocean here. I don't like it." 

"We were just at the beach," Anthony said.

"I'm used to ALWAYS being able to see the ocean," I said. "The land to ocean ratio here is wack. There's only supposed to be like three islands on the whole planet and there's just so much, where did you guys get all these continental plates from?"

I started to clean myself off with bar napkins.

"Uh, guys? I think I just heard someone say 'deploy the ferret'," Anthony said. 

"Deploy the what?" I asked. I felt something sharp dig into my skin and crawl up my leg. The next thing I knew, there was a gigantic furry worm attacking my face. "Aaah! Get it off!"

Jane threw a punch, which connected with both the worm and my head, resulting in a mighty crash as we both fell backwards off the bar chair. I got to my feet a second before the "ferret" did. I squared off with the ferret and prepared to fight it. It hissed at me viciously. 

I stepped to the right, then dodged to the left and threw a punch, but the ferret jumped onto my arm. It started running towards my face.

Jane ran up to me and tried to kick the ferret off my arm but ended up kicking me in the head instead. I fell and the ferret was launched behind the bar, straight through the swinging doors to the kitchen. 

Jane's half-court kick knocked me flat on my ass and I got up seeing stars. "Can you take me to your couch now?" I slurred. And then I passed out again.

—

Chapter 2

I woke up and pulled the pillow off my face; it was glued with blood. Looking out the buckshot holes of Jane's garage, I saw that the rusted-out red truck was parked down the street again. 

I poured instant coffee into a kettle which I'd filled up with water from Jane's garden hose and walked into the living room. Jane was already there, staring out the window. 

"That's the same truck I saw when I got here," I told Jane. "I'd think it was following us, if it looked like it could move." 

"Let's keep an eye on that," Jane said. "ANTHONY!"

"What?" Anthony responded from the next room.

"Raise the paranoia meter one—no, two notches. We're on high alert," Jane said, and lazily saluted.

"On it boss," Anthony said in a 20s mobster voice.

Anthony walked into the living room with a red bag with a white cross on it in one hand and a sewing kit in the other.

"That ferret did a number on you, buddy," Anthony said to me. 

I touched the back of my neck and felt warm blood. 

Anthony pulled a beer from the red bag. Inside the bag there was a box of bandages, a roll of gauze, scissors, a bottle of disinfectant, and a six pack of Lucky. "Yep, we're gonna have to stitch you up."

I took off my shirt and opened my drink. "Welp, can't say this is my first time doing this," I said with a sigh.

"Got enough barbed wire tattoos," Jane said.

"I think I need one more," I responded challengingly.

"Allright, don't move." Jane stood behind me and threaded a needle. "Just look at the pretty trees and hold still." 

"I can see a couple inches of ocean, I'll be fine." I could see the tiny patch of ocean in the distance between the trees across the way, so I focused on that while Jane sewed up the back of my neck. 

"You weren't lying when you said you'd done this before," Jane commented, tying a knot in the thread. "We'll pop this string sucker out in a week and ya should be good." 

I rubbed the stitches. Anthony slapped my hand away. "No touching."

"Hey, your mobster voice gave me an idea I've been trying not to forget," Jane began. 

"Oh, what is it?" Anthony asked.

"Iiiit waaass…" Jane had apparently already forgot it and was struggling to remember. 

"'On it, boss'?" Anthony supplied helpfully. 

"Right!" Jane exclaimed. "Let's fire down to the thrift store, pick up a couple of suits, do an outfit thing."

"That sounds good," Anthony and I said nearly in unison. I noticed my clothes for the first time since I woke up on the beach. My worn-out jeans, denim vest, and long-faded past recognition Sledder t-shirt were gone, replaced by a cozy pair of pajamas.

"I washed your clothes for ya," Jane said. "And you, as well." I looked out the back window and saw a crushed, dirty patch in the tall grass. "How are you dirtier than outside?" Jane continued. "Anyway, you're the least drunk, so you're driving," they said matter of factly.

"Fuck yeah," I said as we walked to Jane's car and they tossed me the keys.

"Hot one today, eh?" I said, lighting a smoke off the mirror and handing them each one. "Your car makes me nauseous, man."

"You get used to it," Anthony said. He seemed zoned out in the back seat.

I noticed a mark on the back of my left hand when I put my hands on the steering wheel. "How long's that been there for?"

"I thought it was one of your tattoos," Jane said. 

I examined it closer. It had 2 rings bridged together with X's and a symbol of a bird holding three keys, one in its mouth and one under each of its wings. "Ya don't see many 2 winged birds. This is strange." 

"Whaddya talking about?" Anthony said, suddenly alert.

"You really aren't from around here, huh," Jane commented.

I gripped the steering wheel and focused on my hand. It started to feel hot. I moved my hand to the window; the leather under my hand was slightly melted. 

I turned the ignition and it only struggled. Jane said "Feather the gas a bit," and flicked the windshield wipers on. A loud bang and a plume of black smoke from the exhaust. The car started and the right windshield wiper stuck half way while the left moved squeakily back and forth. 

"I'm fuckin starving," I said and drove off, the car rocking and making hideous sounds, shedding rust down the driveway.

"Your Sledder t-shirt turned to rags in the dryer. You should pick up some new clothes while we're there," Jane was telling me. 

"Man," I said, taking a second to mourn my Sledder shirt. "I'm shocked it lasted that long though."

I heard a voice shout from three houses down. "FUCK OFF WITH THE NOISE!"

- 

Chapter 3

A few hours later, we pulled into the parking lot of the beach with our pinstripe suits and our fast food feast. I tried to brake but the pedal jammed, so I geared it to neutral and cruised into two parking spots, then pulled the hand brake. 

"Another perfect landing," Jane said. I pulled the key out—or rather, the plastic top of the key, while the metal part stuck in the ignition. 

"That happens sometimes," Jane said. "It's an easy fix. Pliers and some glue. Any of you got pliers? Because otherwise we're catching a bus."

"We have thirty eight cents between us," Anthony pointed out. 

"I could weld ya a new key top," I said. "...If I had my torch. Goddamn, I kinda miss the little bar cubicle." It sunk in that I wasn't home anymore.

We got out of the car and started looking for somewhere to sit.

It really cooled of jane said sitting on a log

"I think it's safe to say we're not in Kansas anymore," I said. I was referring to the fictional land of Kansas, from the popular story The Oz of Wizard, but Jane later told me that in this world Kansas is in fact a real place.

"Tell me about where you're from," said Jane with barely concealed excitement.

"It's a pretty nice place. The wildlife is beautiful, but ya gotta watch out for it."

"Tell me about those birds with more? Or less? Than two wings," Jane asked.

"Well there's the birds with four wings. They're called rhythm birds. They write complex melodies; their songs are beautiful. It also gets sampled all the time into music."

"That sounds like the best pet ever," Jane said excitedly.

"Oh no, they're deafeningly loud indoors. They perch at the top of trees, which are few and far between on the mainland. A lot of the other wildlife can climb trees so the bird that could sit at the top of a tree, nest there, and still have their song heard was the one that survived."

"There's also 7 winged birds that are nearly silent and fast as the devil. They have 6 wings to the side and one rudder wing at the bottom. I got attacked by one once—their claws are sharp. The more curved scars are from that."

"Also on the island there's a lot more terrifying wildlife. There's three species of bats. One of them is about man-sized and terrifying. Pray you have a shotgun when you see those bloodsuckers. They don't come out much though and the others are tiny, maybe 6 inches long, but they breathe fire and never stop eating. The fire comes from a methane gas sack and they have flint-like fangs. Pretty much organic flint, I suppose. I found one that wormed into my engine block, chewed into the wires, then died. I made a lighter out of it with a tooth, a bone and a leather body. It was dope. I actually kept track of that thing for 2 months."

"And then there's vulture bats. They're born about three inches long but don't have a limit on how big they can grow. There's a theory that this is how the man-sized bats came to be."

I looked at Anthony and Jane to see their reactions. Anthony was stunned but Jane looked fascinated. 

"Those burgers were good, man," I said before slurping down the last of my milkshake. 

"I'm outta smokes and I'm starting to get angry," Jane grunted through a mouthful of fries. 

"There's something in my suit sleeve," Anthony said, undoing a zipper on the inside of his sleeve. They reached into the suddenly appearing pocket and pulled out a slim jim. "Hey, score. I think I know how we're getting home." 

"Put that away, dumbass," Jane snapped. 

"You wanna walk home?" Anthony suggested.

"No," Jane relented, "I'll keep lookout."

We eyed the parking lot for an easy lift and chose our prey: an old white van. We oozed across the parking lot to the edge and Anthony slipped the jim in and wiggled it to the left then wiggled it to the right and still couldn't get it in place.

"Pass me that." He passed it to me. I stepped up to bat, slid down, found the groove, and popped the locks in 2 seconds flat. "Numbnuts," I said offhandedly and pried the wire plate off. "Oh shit, it's different," I said, seeing the many wires. "The cars I'm used to have like three or four wires."

"Numbnuts," Anthony mocked in the way that puts your upper lip to your nose,and started to pull the wires down.

"Look with your brain, dumbasses," Jane said opening the visor. The keys tumbled down onto Anthony's head. "Looks like you're sitting in middle," they continued, "princesses first." 

Anthony and I climbed into the car and Jane followed and started the car. "It's been a while since I've done that without fiddling." 

"Hey, this van's pretty bougie," Anthony said, touching the console screen with his knuckle. "Heated seats? Lets turn them up. Check the glovebox, man." 

Jane started the car and I looked in the glovebox. Inside there was a pair of leather gloves and a box that took up most of the space. I shook the box gently; it made a soft thunk. I opened it and unwrapped the silk sheet. Inside there was a revolver with a note: "in case of emergencies".

I inspected the revolver. It had a pearl handle and sleek shiny body. I checked if it was loaded and it was. I took a bullet out and saw ornate runes carved into the shell and put the bullet in my pocket leaving five in the chamber so it wouldn't blow my package off if it misfires. 

"Talk about a score," I said, tucking the gun into the waistband of my suit.

At the bottom of the box was another six bullets and a fifty dollar note. "Let's hit up a gas station. These are my last three smokes."

We drove, careful to not get pulled over, to a gas station and Jane smoothly backed the van in and we got out. I could have sworn I saw one of the top rear exhaust pipes move, but figured my eyes were playing tricks on me. I looked at the back of the note and saw it had the same symbol on my hand. I put it in my pocket to check later and make sure it was real and walked into the gas station.

"Heyooo," I said warmly to the clerk. "I need a few packs of smokes, man. I'll have some mallgorilla—"

"What the fuck is a mall gorilla," the cashier slurred and pushed a far too heavy tongue piercing back in their mouth. "We got marlboros," they said, eyes red and droopy. 

"I'll take a pack of that then and gimme a pack of cheap and some menthols too."

"What are you, a chimney?" said the cashier turning around and grabbing three packs from behind the counter and putting them on the table, that be all for ya.

Just then Anthony walked up, put three beers on the counter, and said "Why yes I am." 

I handed the clerk the fifty and they handed me less change than I expected, but at that point I was jonesing too hard to care. I had barely walked out of the store before I had the first marlboro in my mouth and Anthony was already pulling out his lighter. I handed Jane one through the window and climbed in.

"Is it just me or does the exhaust look like it's moving?" said Anthony. 

"It's probably just loose," Jane said before taking a large drag, leaning back and starting the car. She exhaled through her nose and said, "Thank god for Seven Eleven under their breath while driving out of the parking lot."  

We pulled up to Jane's house and Anthony and I hopped out. Anthony went inside and opened the garage door then sat next to me on a chair while I sat on a rock in the front yard. Jane backed into her garage. Lets see if there's anything in the back she said. 

"Good idea," I responded, flicking her a menthol and lighting mine and Anthony's. "Lets hang out a spell, grab the pliers and pick up our car." 

"That sounds good," Anthony said.

"These taste different from the smokes back home," I said.

"Yours were smoother," Anthony responded.

"Uuuuuh, guys, we have a problem," said Jane.

Chapter 4

Jane was staring, horrified, into the back of the van. Two thankfully out of shape middle-aged guys wearing sweater vests, bowties, sweatpants and bunny slippers stared back, looking like a pair of toddlers caught with a meth lab.

I jumped to my feet, staggered two steps, and hit the ground, dizzy from the nicotine. the two guys jumped out and went for the front seat of the van. The taller one hopped in the driver's seat and the rounder one got in the passenger seat. The tall one opened the visor, looking for the keys  (now in Jane's pocket) while the fat one opened the glovebox, looking for the gun (now a centimetre away from my left testicle). 

"Grab the keys," the round one yelled to the tall one. 

"It's not there! Grab the gun!" the tall one yelled back.

"It's not there!"

They hopped out and started legging it down the street while I carefully tried to stand up. Anthony helped me into the chair and I caught my breath.

Once I wasn't dreadfully dizzy, we carefully examined the back of the van. It had a periscope attached to the left “exhaust pipe”. There was a sofa along one side and a built-in computer/radio station along the other. At the far end of the van, there was a coffee maker bolted to a cabinet and a 24 pack of donuts that was about half eaten.

Jane entered the van first. "The donuts are still fresh," she said, putting one in her mouth and passing two back to us. She looked in the cabinet and retrieved three cups and poured still-hot coffee into them. "So what the fuck just happened?" Jane said.

Chapter 5

Scraaaaatch scraaatch. Anthony was scraping a coin across the table anxiously. We had all changed back into our regular clothes. 

We were in the basement, coffee and donuts in hand, and sat down on the old raggedy sofa. Jane sat next to me and Anthony in a chewed and taped together armchair separated by a coffee table with two drawers and coated in all manner of scratches. The basement was comfortably dim and grungy enough to really feel like home.

The question of "So what do we do now?" hung in the air but no one dared ask it.

I checked the inside pocket of my vest, finding my pocket knife and a quarter of weed that thankfully survived the wash without the baggie ripping.

Jane pulled a pink and purple tray with a grinder and papers from a drawer in the coffee table and set it in front of me. I started rolling and tried to come up with a plan.

After rolling three joints I lit the first and passed left to Jane. 

"So if they haven't come for us yet, they're probably waiting till dark. I'm not sure what to expect but I think they'll send someone tougher than a pair of desk jockeys. We got lucky they weren't the gnarly kind of agents."

"So what should we do?" Jane said, barely audible as she passed to Anthony.

"We can run or we can fight… most likely we'll do both one way or another," I said.

"I think the van's in better shape than your car, Jane. No offense," Anthony added. 

"None taken," Jane said.

So we take the van. I suggested that we put a mattress in the back and drive as far as we could. "If we never look back we just might make it," I said.

"We could lay low somewhere out of town," at least, said Jane, mid exhale the colour slowly returning to their face.

“That's a good idea,” I said.

“And if we fight?” Anthony said and swallowed uncomfortably.

“What have we got for weapons?” I asked.

Jane stood up and rummaged through a toolkit, chose a larger than average hammer, spun it in her palm and nodded approvingly. She walked to a section of wall with a poster worn beyond recognition. She took the poster down and—SMASH— hit the drywall with the hammer. SMASH SMASH. "Give me a hand, would ya?" they said, tearing out a piece of drywall.

I stood up and helped them rip up the wall.

Once we had created a fairly large hole, they reached in and felt around before pulling a duffle bag with Y2K stitched into the front and 2012 stitched underneath out of the wall.

"We made a bug-out bag, yeah," Jane said, walking back to the couch and sitting down.

We looked through the bag. It had two sturdy pairs of black clothing, a few MRIs, five hundred dollars in cash and a purple box with a pink strap that clipped at the front. 

"These are for once we're safe," Jane said, tapping the box and putting it back in.

Jane pulled open a side pocket and removed a handgun. “Glock, ten mil,” she said, checking it to make sure it was still in working order. There were two boxes of rounds that Jane examined a few bullets out of. “Nothing seems to have gone," Jane said, high-fiving Anthony.

"Well, let's get that mattress in the van," I said, carrying the duffle bag out of the basement.

Jane grabbed a hacksaw from the toolkit. “Might come in handy," they said.

We went into Anthony and Jane's bedroom and carried the mattress to the van. Jane helped me pull the couch out and put new sheets on the mattress. Anthony got fresh bedding. By the time we finished we figured we'd have about forty minutes before dark. We sat down in our new surveillance camper and lit the final joint.

“Well, tonight we toast to living or dying,” I said, holding the doob up like one would with a drink and passing left to Anthony.

Anthony said, "Living or dying," with grim commitment and toked, then passed to Jane then started coughing once he had finished. Jane said the same and stared off for a second after exhaling. 

"Do you hear that?" Jane asked.

“It's time to move,” I said urgently. Jane and I hopped out of the back and ran for the front. At that near exact same moment, two SUVs the colour of the stormy night sky screeched to a stop and three agents hopped out of each, clad in tactical gear and bearing submachine guns. They jumped into action while rubber was still burning.

Me and Jane jumped into the front seat, ducked and started the car. Bullets raged off the front and shattered the glass. The rest of the car seemed to have been armoured. The glass tore into our skin as we careened through the neighbour's lawn, bullets praying for weak spots the whole way through. Anthony slammed the left door and returned blind fire with the machine pistol. It would have been like trying to kill a dragon with a zippo, but it made the agents and drivers duck, which cooled our lead shower long enough to barrel across the road and through the shrubs into the yard of the least lucky bystander.

“YYYEEEEHAAW,” I exclaimed. “THIS VANS REALLY SOMETHING!

ANTH, YOU STILL ALIVE BACK THERE?!” I said not daring to pick up the pedal in the slightest as we blundered through the (thankfully not home) neighbour's front yard and onto the road.

“The highway is just forward and left of here,” Jane said urgently. The van lurched forwards, relieved to taste concrete again. The speedometer ticked up as we raced for the freeway.

“Uhh, I think so,” said Anthony shakily. "That was the biggest gunfight of my life." Anthony promptly fainted, thankfully onto the mattress.

[bandofchimeras]

posting a lot rn sorry Im gonna readmore this vent that is a standin for next therapy session

i have a lot of trauma from losing my last few housing situations over interpersonal conflict and not having enough money or being good at managing my money. I was too ashamed to ask for what I needed until it was desperate and I had no options.

I have big decisions to make that are producing so much anxiety. and am burnt out. but also grateful and astounded at the miracle that is life.

so can't handle small talk right now. my whole chest is splitting open with the need to be somewhere I feel loved and safe bc I know who tf I am now....but knowing I have to make these next moves out of my own initiative

somewhere deep in my brain I know this isn't all my fault but I had to stop victim thinking to get myself out of the Hole and consequently just Shut Up about the Pain

the last people I lived with really wanted me to shut up and conform perfectly to the anxiously controlled life they'd constructed bc I was there temporarily

and for my part I was in depression self centered funk and coming out of abuse too brainfoggerd to remember the rules

One of them is a former mutual and he was also a transmasc person I had a crush on and we had a short little Thing

what they ended up doing was 1000% shitty asshole stuff like kicking me out in the middle of winter after I communicated I was in too much pain from moving in and work, and requested a two week extension, and trying to charge me illegal "storage fees" when I needed time to get my stuff after being kicked out.

my discord friends had to help me parse that these people were not my friends and did not care about me at all. I thought they did. but the guilt they laid on thick and blamed me for their actions has been dragging around my ankles for awhile and I just want to shake it off, I want to be okay and not soaked in guilt like milk toast

the situation also led to my car being stolen, getting in a crash, my cats health severely declining until she passed away this spring. just fucking wrecking ball on everything I was attached to for any sort of comfort or sense of reality.

Right before that my long term job that was....dubiously ethical, my sort of boss fired me in a similarly guilting way, and similarly could see exactly why they had a problem with me but I just, at the time I simply could not show up how I needed to. Not killing myself was an accomplishment. And this boss was deeply prejudiced against autistic people despite running a group home. I genuinely hated her guts for how miserable she made everyone around her while also recognizing I wasn't doing much better.

anyways through this time period kitchen work has become this attachment that toughens me up and feels doable while my brain is inflamed, despite being shit for my disabled body. I can't shake free quite. I don't have a permanent house and all my friendships feel weird and troubled in that way only mutual survivors of emotionally neglectful or abusive families and religious trauma can, like every thing I do or say can be wrong, or isn't giving someone enough attention or isnt the response they want or is bad bad bad bad

and so yeah, making new friends is hard

letting people in feels impossible

looking for decent jobs too

I'm not a mess in the way I have been but it's all messy inside and I'm sad and tired and very hypersensitive to rejection, every day breaks and makes me again and I miss writing and loving and feeling good

I thought pride would be so fun and make me feel better. It was cool in a lot of ways, but also grimly corporate and fangless and expensive, there were a ton of missed connections and the couple I went with was being nitpicky and hurtful to each other and even at the club dressed to the nines and dancing my little gay heart out I felt disconnected and ignorable (maybe it's just a Seattle thing, moving from a small-town environment into big urban reminds you you're nothin special all in all) and couldn't see the magic

I miss my ex or at least keep seeing stuff that reminds me of caring about her in that specific way and the bridge we tried to build across everything despite it all and I know we still care about each other just couldn't stop the fucking awful Bullshit, moving on would be easier if I could just dismiss people entirely

and at work things started falling apart too, my boss got super guilt happy at overworked caregivers and I lost all respect for him and was mega triggered and posted about it and embarrassed myself. theyre more okay I guess but everyone seems so demoralized and worn down by being criticized and used up and overcharged and under loved and I don't want to give any more right now, I want to rest rest rest and make art and I can't let myself while I'm living in someone's living room and both of us are working around eachothers mood disorders

meanwhile my family while making progress is still on about how I have to accept criticism of my gender identity if I want to talk to them about the harm done by their religious ideology and MEANWHILE I develop deep feelings for yet another unavailable cis man for bare minimum shit

i don't know I guess it feels like other people know how to have friends and love and enjoy things and I am missing the boat and if I don't change something indistinguishable super fast, it will be too late for me and I will continue to ruin every good thing that comes my way and.magnetically attract trouble

and it doesn't help that my attempts to connect online also feel desperate and awkward like I'm really a sick puppy who wants headpats but aren't we all they say

some days I do think overall it would be easier to Kermit but I can't do that to my siblings AND there are many buoyantly beautiful things bout life I am looking forward to like top surgery and kissing boys like I mean it which someday will feel real and not like a knife twist in the chest

also I haven't got enough sleep lately and my period came back so hopefully this stupid shit is more bearable in a few days I'm just gonna watch OFMD and hug myself to sleep and literally kill anyone who is a hater about the tiny things that bring me joy bc I am fucking doing my best out here to stay afloat and not yuck other people's yums either

[majoringinsarcasm]

He’s gonna be rude about the gift, about Penny’s sword, and Ruby is gonna be pissed isn’t she? Guess this has become a running commentary fjdjdndnd

HE KICKED IT?!?!?! BITCH???? RUBY BOUT TO THROW HANDS WITH A TEN YEAE OLD AND SHES JUSTIFIED

THEY WERE EXECUTED??? BRUH

ITS THE SHOT FROM THE FIRST TEASER WAAAAHHH

So it’s like a combination of Chess, bc of the term Pawn, and checkers, bc of the movement? I know you take pieces in each game but I’m less familiar with how chess works

Also those poor white and gold ones look so battered they look like little salt shakers 🥺

Something something Ruby is once again tasked with leading her team to not just victory but also safety only now they are Her Pawns. My girl is not catching a break anytime soon is she?

Little. I love Little so much.

YANG GIRL FRJDBJDJDNDJD HES ALREADY DOWN

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH THATS SUCH A DEEP BLUSH OH MY GOD SHES SO RED HAVE WE SEEN A BLUSH THAT DEEP BEFORE

The white team has been beaten down not just in skill but also in team moral. It looks like they aren’t patched up after the games or replaced which is why they’re so dirty and broken. They’re used to losing so they want to get it over with. But team rwby being so confident in themselves and Ruby’s leadership in this moment make the pawns believe in her too and that’s what’s giving them the guts to fight back with their full power again.

Pardon me as I weep

…… so I’m gonna guess that some humans before them killed the red king and also like fucked shit up in the Ever After. But I’m not sure if it’s Neo and Jaune or other humans.

AHHHHHH TINY BUMBLEBY WRECKING BALL MOVE HAHAHAHAH

Also yes I loved this OST in the trailer it’s so fun

WAIT LYRICS AHHHHHH CRUNCHYROLL WHERE ARE THE FUCKING SUBTITLES ok wait so. They are selected. But for whatever reason the only ones that aren’t working are English the ones for other languages seem to be working so. MAYBE MEXT WEEK the English ones will work? Has this been a problem for English dubs on CR before I’m so confused

Also even tho they are tiny rn how helpless must Ruby feel without having her weapon. She can’t catch a break even in the tiny-verse I’m

Blake running to help Yang and getting punched back I’m gonna scream. If anyone says “she’s too focused on her it’s why she got hurt” but still calls Bees queerbait I’m gonna block them so hard their internet crashes

IIM CRYING ITS THE GAMBLE SHROUD SLINGSHOT HOLD THING THAT THEY DID IN V1 WHICH I THINK THOSE TWO EPISODES WERE CALLED PLAYERS AND PIECES IM GONNA SCREAM

THEY ALMOST FELL TO THEIR DEATHS WHAT THE HELL

Sorry the cat is very distracting but it sounds like. We gotta make a change bc it’s time for a change

LMAFOOOOOO NOT CURIOUS CAT WHO LOVED TO ASK QUESTIONS

RUBES 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I think that’s the first time we’ve ever heard a nickname for any of them aside from Klein calling Weiss his little snowflake 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Hi Neo

So. My question is. Did she fall WAAAAY after the others, or did she fall at the same time and we are seeing like a flashback?

WHERE IS MY BOY JAUNE

Uhhhhh is she doing this on purpose or is her semblance going haywire?? She looks a little surprised

Anyway that fucking ruled it’s stupid how good this volume is it was 100% worth the wait we have Neo now all I personally need is MY BOY JAUNE WHERE IS HE IS HE LOST FOREVER LIKE CRESCENT ROSE

[cafedanslanuit]

- ̗̀ boy, you write your name, i can do the same ̖́-

day twenty-three humiliation ft. porco galliard [shingeki no kyojin]

☄  tags/warnings: +18, afab reader + she/her pronouns, college/university au, humiliation (verbal), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), oral sex (m and f receiving), established couple, football player porco galliard <3333

☄  words: 1.8k

☄  a/n: god knows i've had this idea since the copa américa in july... hope y'all like it <3 tagging @bokebelle because football player porco hits different ~

☄  masterlist

The first moment you set your eyes on Porco Galliard, striker of the Marley University Football Team, you knew you were done for. You caught him smirking at you for a brief second before you looked away, pretending to be interested in whatever Reiner was talking about. As you tried your best to hide the smile on your face, you couldn't stop thinking how utterly good-looking he was. Was he single? Would Reiner tell you if you asked? Were you really planning to make a move on someone from Marley?

Months ago, you wouldn’t have believed if anyone told you you’d be seen at a barbeque hosted by the rival team of your university. However, after befriending Reiner during the semester he played for your team, you had agreed to join him after he assured you you’d have a good time.

Now, Reiner probably didn’t anticipate Porco and you would have an instant connection, and that after that first look he'd approach you two and start a conversation with you. You didn't even notice Reiner excusing himself as you and Porco kept talking, flirty bantering your main language as everyone seemed to disappear around you. Before you left the house party, he made sure to get your number― it wasn't long before you were officially dating.

Porco was charming, fun, and so incredibly good-looking. And best of all, he didn’t attend your university, which gave you both lots of free time on your own. Whenever you went out on a date or he crashed at your place, you were really itching to spend time together, rather than getting used to seeing each other every day at the campus. Your friends could tell you two got along exceedingly well, the honeymoon phase never seeming to end as both of you had this dreamy smile on your lips every time the other was around.

It all changed once the football championship started.

Porco knew it was stupid, but there was something about seeing you using Shiganishina’s football jersey during his matches that really struck a nerve. He had offered you one of his spare jerseys, yet you had refused. You were committed to cheering for your university to the very end, both in their games against Marley and in their games with other teams. Porco didn’t understand why you even bothered attending Marley’s games if you were so adamant about wearing that stupid jersey.

Marley and Shiganshina were set to clash twice, and the results of both games were going to determine who went to the next stage. After losing the first game 2-1, Porco sat on your bed and watched you happily singing to yourself your team’s chant as you took off your makeup, a giddy smile on your lips. He was crazy about you, he truly was. But never before had he wanted more to throw a pillow at you.

“Aw, quit that sour look, babe. Not my fault our team’s better,” you teased him, walking back to your bed and straddling him.

Porco arched an eyebrow. “We’re still in the quarter-finals. You guys haven’t advanced to the semifinals yet. And both of us know that 2-1 was mere luck.”

“Aww,” you cooed, pinching his nose. He swatted your hand away. “That’s what a loser would say. But don’t worry, I still love you anyway.”

You pushed him on the bed, a cheeky grin on your face before you removed your top. As you were leaning down to kiss him, your boyfriend grabbed your chin with his hand, stopping you just mere centimetres away with his lips.

“When we win, I’m going to wreck you,” Porco warned you. An easy laugh escaped from your mouth.

“I’d like to see you try.”

In retrospect, you set yourself up.

You still remember Porco’s obnoxious smirk as he pointed at you as he scored his third goal in the game, achieving the first hat-trick of the season. While losing the match was always a possibility you surely didn’t expect to lose 5-0. Neither did you expect your boyfriend to ask you to keep your jersey on as he took the rest of your clothes off back at his place.

“Hm, I may have made a mistake before. You do look pretty in that awful jersey.”

Porco’s words sent a bolt of pleasure between your legs as he sheathed his cock deep inside you. He loved every desperate whine that fell from your lips, and how you were obediently holding the back of your knees, pressing your thighs against your chest. It filled him with an absurd amount of pride to see your face twisted in pleasure, wearing the losing’s team jersey and taking his cock so well.

He watched in awe how much you were gushing around him, how wet his cock looked every time he pulled it almost all the way out before thrusting back inside. Your high-pitched cries as you asked for more were the most perfect thing he had ever heard, paired with the way your pussy was almost sucking him back in every time he bottomed out inside of you.

“Fuck, babe,” he grunted, kneeling on the bed and pressing his hands on the back of your thighs. “Feel so good around my cock. Like you were made for me,” he snorted.

“Yes― I, I was. I was― made for you― made for your cock, Pock,” you whimpered, feeling him bury himself even deeper inside. “Just for you, only for you.”

Porco took a second look at your face, swollen lips parted as you let out the most desperate moans he had ever heard and glassy eyes looking up at him in adoration. You had truly surrendered to him, all while wearing that stupid Shiganshina jersey. Long gone was the girl who was teasing him about the previous score, now he had you moaning about you being made for his cock, like a whore .

It scratched an itch.

He moved one of his hands to your clit, moving it in small circles as he kept thrusting inside of you. Porco smirked as you loudly whined, your nails digging on your skin as he drove you closer to your edge. You threw your head backwards, your hips stuttering as you tried and failed to grind against Porco’s hand.

“Look at yourself, acting like a little cockslut for me,” he teased, and God-- he was not prepared for the way you squeezed his cock at his words. “Oh? You liked that, huh? It’s okay, baby, you’ll always be my pretty whore. All dumb and needy, just how I like it.”

His words made you come harder than ever before. Your entire body shook as the orgasm hit you, making you moan loudly, curses mixed with your boyfriend’s name pleasure travelled all over your body. Porco watched amused as you broke down, your walls fluttering around him, eliciting a few groans for him. He knew that he wasn’t far from coming himself, but he wasn't nearly done with you yet.

He pulled away and took your hands away from your legs, letting them rest on the mattress. He lowered his body, placing his head between your legs. Feeling his weight shifting on the bed, you propped yourself up on your elbows, widening your eyes as you watched Porco place a kiss on your inner thigh. You whimpered when he parted your folds with his fingers and licked a long stripe of your cunt, overstimulation flooding your senses.

“How does it feel being fucked by a true winner, unlike your shitty team?” he asked, arching his eyebrow in a teasing way. He spread your wetness across your folds, smirking when your body jolted underneath him.

“Pock― Pock, baby,” you panted, curling your toes at his ministrations. “I just came.”

“I know,” he retorted, placing an open-mouthed kiss right on your clit, humming at the whimper that left your lips. “But a pretty slut like you can give me one more, right?”

By the way he smirked, you knew he had caught you clenching over nothing at his words.

Whenever Porco ate you out, you had always felt it was something he really enjoyed doing. And if he hadn’t taken the time to learn exactly what made your eyes roll, you would have believed it was solely for his pleasure. He held your thighs as he buried his face in your cunt, tongue lapping greedily.

Porco hummed each time you cried out, your sensitive folds both wanting more of him and also feeling like they had reached their limit. But he ate you out like his life was on the line, sucking your clit so deliciously your arms gave out, making you fall on the mattress again.

His hands caressed your thighs up and down as he continued his chore, completely entranced and pussy drunk by how wet you were and how good you tasted. He would have laid like this for days, feeling your fists closing on his hair and tugging, his name escaping your lips like a goddamn prayer.

As he felt your thighs closing against his head, he quickened his moves, making you come for the second time. He let you hold his head still as you ground against his face, his tongue out for you to use as you pleased while you rode out your orgasm.

Once he felt your muscles relaxing, Porco crawled up your body. Tiredly, you put your arms around his neck, pulling him close as his lips fell on you. Unlike the previous events, his touch was gentle, caring and it was easy for you to melt into him once more.

“I’m sorry― I think that was out of line,” he mumbled against your cheek before pressing his lips on your skin. “But I thought you liked it and―”

“I did. It was, uhm, certainly new,” you chuckled. “But if I didn’t like it, I would have told you so. Thanks for apologizing, though.”

“Of course,” he said, his lips ghosting over yours. "I love you. I love you so much."

After whispering a love promise back, you pulled him close and kissed him softly. The shift made you notice Porco’s erection poking on your hip, just as hard as he was when he was fucking you. Slowly, you caressed Porco’s side and then shuffled your hand between your two bodies until you reached his cock, closing your fingers around it. The grunt that he made against your mouth made you smile.

“Now, I hate to admit it, but… I guess you are tonight’s champion,” you reasoned with a playful tone. Porco locked his honey eyes on yours, and you could notice how they darkened when you gave his base a small squeeze. “I would be a bad girlfriend if I didn’t treat you like one, right?”

The dissatisfied groan that came after you pulled your hand away made you chuckle. Before he could complain, you rolled over him and shifted until you were kneeling between his open thighs. You took his cock in your hands again and started pumping him, making him curse under his breath.

As you leaned down and took his tip inside your mouth, Porco had the crazy idea that maybe being in opposing teams wasn’t a bad idea after all.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Finally | Corpse Husband

Requested? For once, yes! LMAO I hope you like it :)

Warnings? Nah

Summary: You and Corpse after being best friend's for years now finally break the distance

Word Count: 1,388

“Come on pick up pick up,” you whisper as you watch your phone ring over and over.

“Hello?” your best friend picks up and you grin widely.

“Corpse!!!” you yell and he flinches but smiles anyway.

“Guess where I am,” you continue.

“I don’t fucking know uh,”

“I’m at the car wash!!” you yell and turn your camera to show him you’re midway through the tunnel that washes your car.

“Okay?” he questions still uncertain as to why you insisted on calling him and telling him you were at the car wash.

“Remember I told you about the last time I was here,” you start, and realization washes over the older boy’s face.

“Oh my fucking god,” he groans and you laugh loudly. “You didn’t know how to put your car in neutral.”

“I figured it out this time!” you cheer loudly.

“I’m proud of you,” he says and you smile.

You realize you’re getting to the end of the tunnel and hold up one finger to Corpse, dropping your phone in the cup holder next to you. You put your car back into drive, cheering as you do so, and pull out of the cave-like building. You grab your phone as you start to exit, propping it up so you can see Corpse once more.

“And you even know how to put it in drive. My best friend is a fucking genius,” he says and you laugh.

“Shut the fuck up,” you joke.

As you drive, you tell Corpse about your day, happy to be seeing and talking to your best friend. You felt like you hadn’t talked to Corpse in ages, but really it had probably been two days since you last facetimed, and an hour since your last text exchange.

You and Corpse had been best friends for ages now, finding each other through the beauty of loving Machine Gun Kelly. You had fallen in love with the older rapper and his music just as Corpse was starting his youtube channel. You had been following numerous fan accounts and found Corpse’s with a decent following and a slowly building YouTube channel.

He had followed you back, and after a few interactions on the timeline and later in direct messages, you two never stopped talking. He trusted you with a face reveal, staking your life on the fact that you would never betray him like that.

Over the years you had only grown closer despite the distance between the two of you. Being across the world from each other sucked but it never really stopped the two of you. You had synced sleep schedules whether it was with you falling into California time or him falling into east coast time. You had tried your best to seem like you were closer than you actually were.

You both for a while were apprehensive to meet, and in general, were a bit too busy. You knew when you met you would want to spend the better part of a week or two together, finally enjoying each other’s company. You both made a million plans whenever you were on the phone, deciding that it was going to take you ages for you to get the things done you wanted to do at either your house or corpse’s.

You lay on the floor of your living room, your class had just ended and you were going to get up and get food but ended up on the carpet, trying to reach something. As you lay there, your phone rings, and you maneuver it out of your back pocket before swiping answer on the call.

Corpse’s face pops up and you smile wide at your best friend, it takes him a second, looking at your background before tilting his head in confusion.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I was trying to grab something on the ground and couldn’t reach it so I gave up,” you explain and you both end up cackling together.

“Anyways,” he says making you giggle. “I found out another thing we have to do together when you come here.”

“Wait let me get the list up,” you say switching apps to the note on your phone of the millions of activities that you and Corpse would complete when you would visit him one day in the future.

“We have to go to LACMA,” he says and you type it in the notes before switching back to facetime and giving your best friend a confused look.

“It’s an art museum I’ve always wanted to see. We can go and take pictures and be dramatic about the art,” he explains and you grin.

“Fuck yeah I love it,” you say.

Silence washes over the two of you, both of you having the exact same thought at the same time, thousands of miles away. Why couldn’t you two just be near each other? Your eyes try not to trail to each other, knowing any words might break the other.

“Hey,” he finally says and you look up at your phone again. “Come visit me.”

“Corpse,” you say and he shakes his head, defiance in his voice.

“Visit me. I’m sick of this distance. I miss you and I wanna meet you and hug you and complete the list we’ve been working on for years. Come on,” he says and every word has you more motivated than the one before.

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly. It’s time. Come visit me.”

You and Corpse had started planning the minute you had hung up the phone that night. How long you would stay, getting your time off work, buying the plane tickets, everything. You grew more and more excited as each part of the plan was solidified.

You had only a few days left till you got to see your best friend and your nerves were now at an all-time high. You sat in your room, double-checking that you packed everything and packed it perfectly. Your phone rings, your set ringtone for Corpse playing and you dive onto your bed as you answer it.

“Please tell me you’re not checking your suitcase again,” he says and you smile.

“I’m nervous okay, don’t tell me you’re not nervous,” you respond.

“I’m terrified. What if you’re secretly a murderer that has lured me into complacency after all these years?”

“Ooh that would be a good story,” you say and you both end up laughing.

“See you tomorrow,” he says after a bit.

“I’ll be there.”

Your excitement courses through you the entire ride to the airport, during the plane ride, and skyrockets when you step foot in LAX. You were a wreck, not being able to stop moving as you grabbed your backpack and carry on and bouncing nervously in the middle of the plane, wanting to run out as soon as possible.

You text Corpse, telling him you made it off the plane and he tells you that he’s at baggage claim. It hits you like a ton of bricks, that your best friend was in the same building as you, and that you’d finally be with him after all this time. You’re practically running through the airport, finding the correct escalator, and making your way down.

As the escalator moves slowly down you look around anxiously and there you spot him. Corpse stands not too far from the escalators, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in hand and a messily written but absolutely adorable sign with your name on it. You’re beaming so hard your face hurts and as if he can feel your gaze his eyes lock with yours.

His smile reflects yours, and without thinking, you book it down the escalator. You drop your things, your brain focused on Corpse and getting to him. Corpse drops his stuff too, running to meet you and a laugh escapes you, just as you crash into each other.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, his grabbing around your waist and you both teeter back and forth in the hug. Part of you wants to pull back, look him in the face and finally see him but nothing, nothing could pull you from his touch. You press your face into his neck, your heart pounding as you breathe in the scent of his cologne, and smile wide.

“Finally,” he whispers into your hair and you giggle.

[pennylaneforthoughts]

Okay but episode 4 from Mobius' perspective is literally the saddest thing if you let yourself think about it for too long.

Imagine you're Mobius and you have a huge massive crush on Loki, and by the end of episode 2 you feel like you've bonded so well, and you know, maybe there's a chance he likes you back. But then he betrays you, runs through that time door after Sylvie and everyone is telling you he's just yeeted out Like Always but you're like "No there's gotta be another explanation. We were friends. Really friends. We had something."

And then you find out that not only did he yeet after Sylvie, as you're dragging them through the halls, all they look at is each other, and it's not until Sylvie's down another corridor that Loki even pays you any mind or says anything to you. And you're just absolutely seething because of course everyone else was right. How could you be so stupid to think Loki could ever like you back? Hes a literal god. You're just some random guy, a bureaucrat. Of course he would rather be with some crazy, stab-happy version of HIMSELF than you.

And you feel so jealous, so angry, so unwanted you can barely think straight. But you still have to do your job even though you feel like this, so you lie and sneer and poke and prod because you're angry and hurting and a part of you wants Loki to hurt too. And then as you're interrogating him, you see him get all teary eyed over Sylvie, and you think, "How horribly painful and awful is this?" He'd cry over this girl after knowing her for less than a day, but he'd leave you without a care in the world. Not a goodbye or any sort of explanation. Would he even care if someone had told him you were pruned? Unlikely.

And you're so upset that even when Loki's yelling at you, desperately trying to make you see he's telling you the truth, it doesn't relieve you to see so clearly in his eyes that he's not lying, because those are the same eyes that you just saw worried over and crushing on Sylvie. So you slam your face directly into denial because how dare he? How dare he be honest now? And so you run away before you let yourself get sucked back in by those eyes, but it's too late, the damage is done. And even though you're angry and bitter and kind of wish Loki would just disappear, you can't deny he was being honest for very long. So you go and stick your neck out and investigate anyway, because you're nothing if not a lovesick fool, and even being angry at him isn't going to change that, no matter how much you try.

And if you're being honest with yourself, something really has been off about this whole thing, and Loki's rare honesty was the proverbial straw that broke your camel's back in this whole mess. After all, you've never been good at denying him when he looks at you like that. You were bad at it when he wanted to go to an apocalypse with you, and you're bad at it now. So you steal Ravonna's tempad and look for yourself. And where else could you go except to the archives where you and Loki had spent so much time together hidden away? It's only appropriate. And what you find just makes your heart sink.

Not only was Loki telling the truth, it's so much worse than either of you realized. Ravonna had killed C-20. And she had lied to you. And what beautiful, horrible irony that the person who was supposed to do nothing but lie was the one being honest, and your friend for nobody even knows how long is the one lying to you. Your whole world starts crashing down around you, and it's too much. You were already emotionally wrecked by everything going on with Loki. You didn't need this too. And oh God, the implications of it.

This means that everything you've done and said your whole known life has been wrong. And more importantly, it means you've hurt and killed for nothing. And that guilt just eats at your soul as you remember what you've said even just to Loki.

"You were born to bring pain and suffering and death. All so that others can be the best versions of themselves."

What have you done? How much damage have you caused? And it's this thought that spurs you forward. Because screw ideology. Screw glorious purpose. What even are those in the face of a person in pain, much less the person you've found yourself caring about more than anything else?

So you run. Almost on instinct. You run to Loki knowing exactly what memory you've looped him through out of bitterness and jealousy and spite, and you're praying you haven't caused irreparable damage.

"You deserve to be alone, and you always will be."

No, no, no, of course he doesn't. He has you. He'll always have you if you have any say in the matter. He has...

Sylvie.

You remember her. Them. The nexus event. And you have a theory. A theory you hate so much it makes you want to crawl out of your own skin and die, but it makes too much sense, and unfortunately, it could work. So as you step into the time prison, you ask.

"Do you really believe you deserve to be alone?"

And he says he doesn't know, but you can see he just doesn't want to admit that yes, he does. And it breaks your heart because you know that you've had a part in that. So you apologize in the only way you think Loki could begin to accept.

"You can be whoever, whatever you want to be. Even someone good."

And part of you is saying that to yourself too, because heaven knows you need to hear it just as much. And Loki's words are still ringing in your ears.

Friend.

How bittersweet. But you're an adult. You know you can't demand Loki's affection as much as you selfishly want to. If he wants to be with Sylvie, you'll force yourself to find some way to cope with that. It's fine. It only makes sense. You'd rather have Loki in your life as a friend than nothing at all. And you're happy to be reconciled at least a little.

But then you step out into the Time Theatre and everything stops. Ravonna is standing there and she's obviously pissed. She knows. You deflect, you lie, try to be as Loki as you can to get out of this. You're surrounded by Minutemen and pruning sticks but all you can think is you can't let Loki get hurt. Not now. He's the key to taking down the TVA. And it's clear Ravonna is having none of it. But you know her. You were friends. Good friends. And you know she's more angry at you than Loki at the moment. So you realize what you have to do to keep it that way. To protect him.

So you press the button you know will hurt her the most. You answer her question from just a short while ago. You bring all the focus onto you, knowing what it'll likely mean. Knowing it'll hurt her and make her lash out. You're not stupid. You're good at reading people. That's why you're an analyst. And if it means protecting Loki, you know you'd have been willing to die much longer ago than is probably reasonable.

You don't even try to avoid the pruning stick. And honestly? It's not even the most painful thing you've experienced today.

And besides. It's better this way. Now Loki can be with Sylvie, be happy, and you don't have to feel a dagger through your heart every time they look at each other. And it's not like Loki will really miss you.

It's better this way.

[universallychaoticpan]

Anyone but her

Levi x reader

CW; descriptions of blood and torture

"You're a dead man, you hear me? Dead," he spat out from his spot at the wall. His wrists, red and bleeding from the harsh metal on his skin, were chained tightly to the cold stone walls, keeping him from strangling the man in front of him.

The man who currently had your life in his hands.

"Oh yeah? Doesn't seem like you can do all that much at the moment. Should probably tell your girl here you're a little tied up at the moment."

Laughing cruelly at his own joke, he once again brought his whip down against your skin. The sting and sharp snap was followed by another cut opening up, your clothes torn and bloody as your own hands kept you hanging from the ceiling.

"On second thought," your tormentor said in mock thought, "it seems like she's the one tied up at the moment."

Whatever hell this was, you'd now been living in it for four days if you counted right. Having been lured into a trap by corrupt members of the military police, you'd been tortured for days, each in front of the other as they berated you for the location of the scouts. Or, more specifically, the location of Commander Erwin. They'd go at you for hours, leave you a wounded mess on the floor and ask you the same question. Now that you thought about it, it should be time for him to let you down.

And let you down he did, cutting the rope and letting you crash to the cold floor as Levi lunged towards you.

"Now," he said, his voice threateningly soft, "I'll ask you again. Where. Are. The scouts hiding?"

"And I told you, I. Don't. Know," you spat, blood spraying from your mouth and onto his boots.

"Liar," he hissed, pulling you up by the hair as you winced. "But it doesn't matter. We'll be back tomorrow for another round of your favorite game anyway, you useless little wench."

As he rose and walked away, he didn't even spare the two of you a glance as he left.

"Sleep well, love birds," he taunted, "it's pretty boy's turn tomorrow."

As soon as he was gone, it was Levi's turn to play his game. Picking the lock expertly with the pin he'd managed to keep from your hair the day you were captured, he fell forward and caught himself just before hitting the floor. Gently, he pulled you into his arms, lifting what was left of your shirt away from your wrecked skin. Angry red gashes were torn through it, blood dripping down your torso all the way to your neck. In another moment, you felt warm tears hit your skin, the sooft sounds of Levi's quiet sobs echoing through the small cell.

"I'm sorry, y/n," he choked out, "I couldn't protect you. And I can't get us out out of here. I failed and I'm still failing and now you're paying the price."

Wincing at the slight movement, you raised your hand and pressed the warmth of your palm to his face, feeling the salty tears against your hand as you did your best to comfort the man you loved.

"We're going to get out of here, Levi. I know we will. I'm strong, and so are you; strong enough to make it through this just like everything else. We've been through some shit. But as long as you're by my side, I know there is nothing and no one that can hold me back."

Even as you tried to sound sure and confident. you could hear the tremor on your voice that hung on your lips with each word. For your sake as well as his own, you both pretended like you didn't hear it.

After a while, you slipped into sleep, your only escape from the strange and painful hell you'd been in for days, Levi keeping watch over your slumbering body as his mind kept him trapped between exhaustion and the pain he felt everywhere, in every part of his being. Down his back were the fresh marks of punishment, matching yours in a morose painting on the canvas of his skin. And then there was you, lip split and raw even after days, your body broken and beaten like a bird who'd fallen to the ground. Your wings had been clipped, the both of you, caged underground with no way out.

All he could do in that moment was to wait for the sun to rise, try to keep you alive for one more day. That was the secret. If he could only stay alive for one more day, survive just like he had for years, live to see you walking beside him in the sunshine again, he would make it out.

Levi had lost too many people he'd loved, too many he'd cared about. He knew he'd loose many more before death welcomed him into it's soft embrace. But he also knew that he wanted to spend years in your arms, feel your hands in his own long before he met death's cold touch.

He knew there was no future for him worth living that didn't have you in it.

And he was going to get you out alive even if it took his last breath.