#at the very least check the replies because 80% of the time the top ten replies will have someone who actually fact checked the post

[shorelinnes]

it’s really gotten to the point where half the posts I see about Palestine are just full of misinformation. social media is not and never will be a reliable source of information. never fact checking or thinking critically about the posts you reblog is irresponsible and can negatively impact pro Palestinian efforts.

please please please just go to the BDS website and get your information from there. It is a Palestinian run movement that has years of experience organizing boycotts. they do their research and they know what actually works.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Where Are The Ghostbusters When You Need Them?

Hi! Thanks for checking out my story!

Despite the title, the story actually does not feature the Ghostbusters, but it does feature the Flash Rogues. That's almost as good, right?

The story can't really fit anywhere canonically since Evan and Sam are alive simultaneously, among other things, but hopefully it'll be an enjoyable story anyhow. 

Mirror Master I: You ever seen one of those creepy houses? You know, the ones with broken windows and crumbling spires and ivy growing all over them? The ones that used to belong to super rich people and are now allegedly owned by some mysterious “third cousin once removed�� that no one’s ever actually seen? The ones that stupid teenagers dare each other to spend the night in? Well, Central City has one of those creepy houses. Or, more accurately, Central City’s Pine Woods suburb has one of those creepy houses. It’s commonly known as the old Jackson place. It's a three-story mansion, with broken windows, crumbling stone, a creepy staircase, massive spires....the works. It was even used as a set for a horror movie back in the 80s. Even though it technically isn’t in the city proper, it’s close enough that everyone knows about the house-and the stories surrounding it. Allegedly, the old Jackson place was built by Adolphus Jackson in 1792, after he immigrated from somewhere in Ireland with his family. They were Central City’s first settlers (the Rathaways were second). He and his wife, Betty, had sixteen kids (although only ten survived to adulthood). All the dead kids were buried in the backyard of the house, so things are already getting creepy. (Some people say that you can hear crying when you go by the house, and other people have claimed to see ghostly children.) His oldest son, Jared, inherited the house when old man Jackson died in 1846. (He was buried behind the house, and yep, people have claimed to see him, too.) Jared worked alongside Martin Garrick (yes, he IS related to Jay Garrick) and my great-great-great-great-grandfather, Shawn Scudder, in Central City’s Underground Railroad. (Am I shaming my heritage? Yeah, probably. Moving on.) People have claimed to see the ghosts of slaves and such around the old Jackson place, and they’ve also claimed to see the ghosts of Harold and Rufus Jackson, an uncle and nephew who fought on opposite sides of the Civil War. In 1877, Jared died, and his second son, Arnold, inherited the house. (His oldest son was Harold, who died at the Battle of Chancellorsville.) Arnold got married to his second cousin, which is several levels of weird, and he added onto the house, making it a lot bigger and more impressive looking. He died in 1885, after adding to the family’s sizable fortune, and his son, Bernard, inherited the house and made it even fancier. Bernard is also where the really messed up stories about the Jackson place begin, as his oldest son, Robert, fell in love with a girl his father hated (partially because he had planned for his son to marry Lydia Rathaway, Piper’s great-great-great aunt). Their arguments over it got really nasty, and so eventually Robert ran away with his chick and got married to her, only for his father to threaten to cut him off. Sonny boy decided that he wanted the money more than his wife, and he abandoned her and was remarried to Piper’s great-great-great aunt. There was only one snag: his old wife had gotten pregnant and drowned herself in the pond (now dried up) on the back of the property to get revenge a few days after her baby was born. (People claim to see her ghost quite frequently.) Her parents, the Desmonds (and the Rathaways, who were mad that Bernard had had his son marry their daughter when he already had a wife) sued the pants off the Jacksons and the family was reduced to semi-poverty. Robert hung himself a few weeks after the lawsuit was settled (he allegedly haunts the house, too) and Bernard started drinking. A lot. He died in 1910 (probably from alcohol poisoning) and the estate was inherited by his only surviving offspring, a 19-year-old daughter named Alicia, who became a librarian and never married. (Alicia didn’t live in the house after the age of 21, probably because of all the bad memories, but people still see her ghost there.) She died in 1971, and the house, which had sat unused for over three decades, had already gained a reputation as being massively haunted, a reputation that only increased when some stupid 17-year-old broke into the house on a dare, fell down the old stairs in the dark, and broke his neck in 1995. (Since then, people have claimed to see HIS ghost as well.) So you get the point: the old Jackson place is massively haunted, massively creepy, and massively empty, so, of course, Captain Cold decided that we needed to break into the place on Halloween. Now, to be fair, we do something to get our adrenaline up every year on Halloween, but there’s a difference between going to a commercial haunted house, where nothing is real, and going to an old house that might actually be haunted, especially when said old house is falling apart and everyone is wearing ridiculous costumes (as we do every year). Earlier in the month, we had decided to dress up as classic movie monsters. Or at least I thought we had. As it turned out, some people had badly missed the memo….

Mirror Master II: Okay, so maybe the scarecrow costume I had wasnae all that scary, but it wasnae my fault! How was I supposed to ken that all the scary scarecrow costumes would be sold out by October 24? I wasnae PLANNING to be the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz! But I’m off topic. All of us had agreed to meet on the front lawn before we broke into the haunted house, so at 7:00 PM on Halloween night, I got into me costume and went to the lawn. Golden Glider (dressed as a vampire), Scudder (dressed as a zombie), the Trickster (dressed as a bedsheet ghost), Captain Boomerang (dressed as Frankenstein’s monster), and the Pied Piper (dressed as the Phantom of the Opera) were already there, and, of course, as soon as he saw me costume, Scudder started laughing.  “They were sold out of the scary costumes, ye eejit,” I said. “Then why didn’t you alter it or something? You don’t look scary at all!” Scudder asked. “Hey, at least I look scarier than the Trickster. And besides, not all of us be seamstresses, Scudder,” I replied. (He’d made his own costume and thought that nobody knew. Eejit.) Scudder flushed and suddenly became very interested in the bushes. At this point, Captain Cold showed up in cat ears. That was his whole costume. Otherwise, he jus’ looked like a hockey fan (which he be). His sister-a bonnie lassie, she-wasnae pleased with that. “Lenny, you were supposed to dress up as something scary!” “I did. I’m a werecat.” I’m nae sure why he thought that would be convincing. “Oh, come on! You didn’t even try!”“I never try. Why are you acting like this is something new?” The Glider threw up her hands. “Because you promised me you would try this year!” “I have a tail. Does that make it better?” The Glider rolled her eyes.“I give up.” She tossed her golden hair over her shoulder-I tell ye, she is a bonnie lass-and went to talk with the Piper. The Weather Wizard showed up a few seconds later, and I saw soomthing I never wanted to see: him in a dress. “What are ye supposed tae be, me gran?” The Wizard scowled.“I’m a witch!” I looked at him oddly. “Ye could have been a werewolf, and ye decided tae be a witch?”“It’s thematic! You know: wizards are magic; witches are magic….” I laughed. “Look, if ye want to dress up like a lassie, ye kin. Just donae expect me tae understand why.” The Wizard stormed off, and the Top arrived on the lawn, dressed as a gigantic top. Scudder laughed so hard that he had tae sit down, and I laughed pretty heartily myself. “What is so amusing?” the Top asked. Naebody bothered to explain that it was because he wasnae cooperating with the theme, because we all knew he wouldnae listen. “They’re just being stupid, sweetie pie. You look amazing,” the Glider said. (I’m nae sure if she meant it or if she was just trying to calm him doon.) Luckily for the Top, Heat Wave decided to show up at this point, and his costume made Captain Boomerang laugh so hard he wet himself and made me laugh so hard that I had to join Scudder on the ground, so everyone forgot about him. “Why are you wearing a tutu?” Captain Cold asked (as soon as he was capable of speech again.)“Well, I was gonna be Frankenstein, but Digger stole my idea, and I didn’t have any other ideas, so I decided that me in a tutu was scarier than any monster,” Heat Wave replied. I looked him over again and immediately wished I had nae doon it. He was right; the sight of a 6’6”, 250 pound man in a frilly pink tutu is more terrifying than any monster. His logic seemed to work on everyone else, too, because Captain Cold quickly changed the subject. “Okay, are we ready?” Scudder raised an eyebrow. “To break into the creepy ghost house? No, but I know I’m doing it anyway,” he replied. (At the time, I thought that he was being a wet blanket, but as it turned out, he was right to be a tad worried.) “As long as we’re bringing flashlights, I suppose so,” the Piper said. (He had been against going to the haunted house, tae, but he had been opposed to it because of some kid who had died there back in the 90s because the house didnae have lights, not because of Scudder’s ghosties, which he didnae believe in. Because of that, he had changed his tune after Cold promised him that he could bring a flashlight if he wanted tae.)“Then let’s go,” Captain Cold ordered.  With that, Scudder and I transported everyone to the house via Mirror Realm. Having only lived in Central City for a year, I had never seen it before, and I was a tad freaked out by what I saw. The house itself wasnae too bad, but the creepy dead grass and trees, and the graveyard in the back of the house, were spooky, especially under the huge moon.“‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here?’ Really?” Golden Glider said scornfully, pointing at a sign in the yard. Her brother shrugged. “Probably some kid’s idea of a prank.” Piper, meanwhile, was looking nervously at a different sign. “Cold, this sign is from the government. It says the building is condemned. Are you sure we’ll be safe to go in there?” he asked. “Since when do we care what the government thinks?” Captain Cold replied. “When a building might collapse on our heads!” Piper exclaimed. “And when it’s haunted!” Scudder added, sounding happy to have an excuse tae go home. Captain Cold sighed and rolled his eyes. “Piper, if the house seems like it’s gonna collapse on us, we’ll just have Scudder and the Scotsman transport us out. We’ll be fine,” he said. Piper seemed to relax.“Good point,” he said. Sam  didn’t look as calm. “But what about the ghosts?” he asked. “Sam, ghosts don’t exist. They’re a product of overactive imagination and too many horror stories,” the Piper replied, only for Captain Boomerang to join the conversation.“They are too real! My second cousin’s ex-girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend’s dad’s third cousin’s aunt saw one!” he exclaimed, sounding offended. Piper didnae look convinced. “That’s hardly conclusive proof of-” he began, only tae be cut off by Captain Cold. “Enough about ghosts! Let’s go inside already!” he exclaimed. With that, Trickster picked the lock on the door. He pushed it open, producing a loud CREAK, and then we went inside. 

Weather Wizard: I’m going to tell you a secret: the witch costume was an accident. I swear, I thought I ordered the Dark Wizard costume, but when I opened up the package a week before Halloween, I found a witch costume instead, and because I didn’t have another two weeks to wait (or any more money) I was stuck with it and just decided to pretend it had been my plan the whole time to save face. (At least it matched the theme, unlike cats, tops, and ballerinas.) But I digress. So, after the Trickster picked the lock, we went inside and Piper and Cold turned on their flashlights. The hallway contained cobwebs and a moth-eaten carpet, but nothing else.

“We'll cover more ground if we divide and conquer, so let’s split up into groups and search this place for valuables. Lisa, you’re with me. Scudder, you’re with McCulloch. Mardon, you’re with Rory. Rathaway, you’re with Jesse. Dillon, you’re with Harkness,” Cold barked.

“WE’RE SPLITTING UP? That’s like the #1 way to die in a haunted house!” Scudder whined. (As it turned out, he was right to be worried, but at the time, I thought he was overreacting.) Hartley sighed.

“Sam, ghosts do not exist,” he said. (He was wrong.) Then he turned to Cold and asked,

“How will the Mirror Masters be able to transport us to safety if we’re not in the same part of the house?” Cold rolled his eyes.

“Piper, unless there’s an earthquake, the Mirror Masters will be able to get to all of us before the house falls. They basically have access to a teleportation system. We’ll be fine,’” Cold replied. Piper didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t keep arguing.

“Why am I with Harkness? He’s an uncultured boor,” Dillon demanded.

“Well, I ain’t too fond of you, either, you wowser!” Harkness yelled.

“Why can’t I be with Roscoe, Lenny?” Lisa asked. Cold sighed wearily.

“Fine. Dillon, you’re with Lisa. Harkness, you’re with me. Sam, stop whining. Now let’s go!” Cold exclaimed. McCulloch saluted, dragged Scudder into a mirror, and vanished, and the rest of us fanned out to search the house. After walking through some more cobwebby hallways, Mick and I reached what I assumed was the living room. The room was filled with decaying furniture and mysterious old knicknacks, everything was covered in cobwebs, and part of the roof had fallen in. Seeing this, I had to wonder if the Piper had been right about the dangers of the building.

“How long do you think it’s been since someone touched any of this?” Mick asked me.

“If I had to guess, I’d say at least forty years,” I replied. I glanced out the window and noticed that a cloud had covered part of the moon and that the rest of it had turned red, and I shuddered. “Mick, there’s a blood moon.” I said quietly.

“So? They talked about that on the news,” Mick replied as he started pawing through the knicknacks laying on the floor.

“Never mind,” I said quickly as I joined him. I didn’t want him to think I was scared or anything. Several minutes later, we were still sorting through things and had found nothing but a broken teacup, a broken porcelain doll, and a dusty beaded shawl.

“I hope the whole house ain’t like this. If it is, Captain Cold’ll be mad,” Mick said. I shrugged.

“That’s his problem, not mine.” I heard a rumble of thunder in the distance, and, a few seconds later, the sobs of a child. Mick looked up from the floor in shock.

“Did you hear that?” he asked me.

“The thunder, or the kid crying?”

“The kid crying!” I nodded.

“Yeah, I heard it too. Why?”

“Because we need to go help that kid!” he replied. I rolled my eyes.

“Mick, we’re here to get rich, not help some kid.” Mick ignored me and pulled me in the direction of the crying sound, despite my attempts to break free from his grasp. We had gotten halfway across the living room when we saw a little girl. Her hair was in...uh, ringlets, I think they’re called?-and her dress came down to the floor. She was crying (of course) and Mick went over to her.

“Hey, there, little one. Are you lost?” he asked gently. I thought about leaving Mick with the girl and continuing to search for loot, but there was something about the little girl that made it impossible for me to pull away, and NOT in a “she’s so small and helpless” way. Mick reached out to put his hand on the girl’s shoulder-and his hand went straight through her! My knees went weak under me, and then the world went black. When I came to, I found myself on a dusty couch. I looked around the room and saw Mick waving good-bye to the vanishing ghost.

“Oh, hey, Mark. Glad to see you up-although there wasn’t really a reason for you to faint like that. Georgia was just worried that we were gonna hurt her doll. When I told her we weren’t, she cheered right up and went away,” he said cheerfully.

“The ghost has a name? And is friendly?” I asked. Mick nodded.

“I don’t even think she knew she was dead. Poor little thing,” he said, and I sighed in relief.

“In that case, let’s get back to work. If she’s the only ghost here, we’ve got nothing to worry about,” I said. (Famous last words.) With that, the two of us continued our search of the living room.

Trickster: The Piper and I- James Jesse, con artist extraordinaire-decided to investigate the attic. I’m a horror movie junkie, so if I’m breaking into a haunted house, what better place to get that adrenaline rush than the attic? Piper and I climbed three sets of narrow, creaky, cracked, cobwebby stairs to the attic (although Piper got winded halfway up the second flight and I had to drag him up the last one). Then I opened the door to see lots of cobwebs, a shattered mirror, a broken window, an old, rusted bedframe, some old-fashioned cabinets, a sword, an old rocking horse (sadly, it was too small for me), and a bunch of other old stuff. The roof was low, and it was really dark. My heart pounded, but in a good way.

“This is so much better than the fake haunted houses! We should go here every year!” I exclaimed. Piper swept his flashlight from left to right, and then started examining the boring knick knacks that were lying around. I pulled out a yo-yo and some bubble gum and waited eagerly for the walls to start dripping blood. After about two minutes, Piper pulled a stack of old papers out of one of the cabinet drawers.

“James, these are from the Civil War!” he exclaimed excitedly. I yawned.

“So?” I asked. Piper looked shocked.

“James, these are valuable historical documents! If they’re really as old as they look, they could provide priceless information about the role of Central City in the Civil War!”

“Can they summon a ghost?” Piper sighed.

“No. They cannot.” I blew a particularly large bubble.

“Then I’m not interested. Let’s find something that CAN summon a ghost!” Piper rolled his eyes.

“James, you’re not going to find something that can summon a ghost, because ghosts-” Suddenly, the windows rattled and we heard a loud moan.

“Don’t exist?” Piper squeaked. Five seconds later, a transparent man with a noose around his neck appeared and floated towards us. Piper screamed and bolted down the stairs, and I whooped with joy and followed him, narrowly missing the ghost’s clammy hands.

“Catch me if you can, you stupid ghost!” I yelled. I followed the Piper to the second floor and into a spooky old bathroom, complete with dusty mirror, a big tub with clawed feet, a broken toilet, and a sink. Mold was growing in the sink and on the walls, and I grinned. This day just kept getting better and better! Piper slammed the door and locked it behind us.His chest was heaving and he looked exhausted. (Rich kids don’t have much reason to be athletic.)

“You were saying?” I asked ‘sweetly’. Piper gave me a death glare.

“NOT the time!” Piper said. I laughed.

“Do you really think a locked door will keep out a ghost? It can’t even keep us out!” I asked him. Piper’s face went white, and he ran over to the dirty mirror.

“Sam! McCulloch! Get us home now!” he yelled. There was no response.

“Piper, you know the Mirror Realm doesn’t work that way. You can only talk to them through it if they want you to, and if they haven’t had the good luck to run into a ghost, they won’t be able to guess that you might want them to pick us up.” I said as I played with my yo-yo. Piper whimpered and buried his head in his hands, then started muttering incomprehensibly as I whistled merrily.

“How can you be so happy?” Piper demanded after a few minutes.I grinned.

“Kid, we’re being chased by a real, honest-to-goodness ghost! It doesn’t get more awesome than that!” Just then, the ghost drifted through the door, and I pulled out my camera and started snapping pictures as Piper screamed.

“We’regoingtodiewe’regoingtodiewe’regoingto die !” He darted to the door, fumbled with the lock, and opened it just as the ghost brushed his clammy fingers against his back. He screamed louder and ran down the hall. I snapped a few more photos, stuck my tongue out at the ghost,and followed Piper. The ghost roared angrily and flew after me. I caught up with Piper after about a minute and lead him into a dumbwaiter, then slammed the door behind us.

“James, how is this closet preferable to hiding in the bathroom? The ghost can still walk through walls!” Piper demanded.

“Piper, YOU’RE the one who had all the servants. Shouldn’t you know what a dumbwaiter is?”

“I know what a dumbwaiter is,I have just never seen one before. I was not allowed to spend time with the servants.You can hardly blame me for mistaking it for a closet. Besides, my point still stands: why would hiding in here keep us safe from the ghost?” I laughed.

“Piper, that ghost is Robert Jackson, who hung himself because he wasn’t rich anymore and gave up the love of his life for money! Entering the dumbwaiter that the servants used would be beneath him. As long as we’re in here, we’re safe. For a guy who’s college educated, you sure are stupid,” I explained. Piper frowned.

“You were taking selfies with the ghost, and I’M stupid?” he yelled. I smiled “innocently”.

“I never said I wasn’t stupid...but I’m not a graduate from Harvard, either. But I knew how to save us from the ghost, and you didn’t,” I replied. Hartley sighed wearily.

“Whatever you say, James...but how did you know what a dumbwaiter is? You thought that the American Civil War started in 1961 until last month, so you cannot have known about them from history, and you were not wealthy, so you cannot have had servants who used one,” he asked.

“My Nonna Gianna was a maid for a wealthy family in Italy when she was a girl, and she used a dumbwaiter when she worked for them,” I explained.

“Wait...you’re Italian?” Hartley asked.

“Sí. Well, Italian-American, anyhow.My paternal grandparents immigrated from Italy in 1935 after Mussolini took over and invaded Ethiopia. When they got to America, they joined the Big Circus because my Nonno Antonio had been an acrobat in Italy. They had a whole lot of kids, and my dad was the youngest. He was born in 1955, and he married my mother, who was a second-generation Italian immigrant herself, in 1980. I was born eight years later,” I explained.

“But your name is James Jesse! That doesn’t sound remotely Italian!” Hartley protested.

“Hel-lo! My nonni were Italian immigrants performing for the American public at the height of World War II! They took stage names: Jesse for the last name, and Rosie and Jared for their first names. By the end of the war, they’d gotten so famous under the Jesse name that they couldn’t really change it back to their real one, so they just kept the stage name. My dad’s real name was Alessandro, but he called himself Jacob. My mother’s name really was Helen, though, because her parents had given her an American name. My real name’s actually Giovanni Giuseppe. How’s that for a mouthful?” I exclaimed.

“Sai parlare italiano?” Piper asked.

“Nonni, nonna, nonno, pizza, spaghetti, Venice, Rome, sí, il Dulche, Mamma Mia, madre, padre,  nipote, figlia, figlio,Ti amo, caro, Coinvolgimi, bella noche, Dov'è la birra? That’s all the Italian I know. Well, that and a lot of swear words,” I replied.

“En d’autres termes, tu sais autant d’italien comme vous le français?” Piper asked. I looked at him oddly.

“English?”

“So, in other words, you know as much Italian as you do French?” he replied.

“Yeah, pretty much. Not everyone can afford tutors for twenty languages,” I said.

“I only speak six languages-Spanish, French, German, Italian, Japanese, and Mandarin Chinese, and I can only write in the first four. I’m passable in Arabic and Russian, too, but I’d hardly say I can speak twenty languages.” I grinned evilly.

“Let’s go find some more ghosts!” I exclaimed.

“No! I’m staying right here, where it’s safe,” Piper yelled.

“Spoilsport,” I said. I started using my yo-yo again.

Captain Cold: So, as I guess you already know, I ended up partnered with Captain Koala, because he and Roscoe insisted on being stubborn morons. I wanted to look for the safe, but Digger insisted that we go to the kitchen because he was hungry, and, since Digger seems to have an immunity to food poisoning, I figured it would probably be safe to let him eat 85-year-old food, and feeding him would get him to shut his big mouth besides. Digger, who practically has an internal homing device for food, found the kitchen in about a minute flat. The kitchen was dusty, covered in cobwebs, and filled with a lot of rusted-out junk, and it was so dark that, without my flashlight, I don't think I would've been able to see two feet in front of me. It was a little creepy, I’m not gonna lie. But I don’t scare easy, so I started pawing around for valuables while Digger found the world’s oldest box of crackers and started digging in. I found a bunch of silver spoons and shoved them into my bag…and then something weird happened. A really attractive lady appeared out of basically nowhere and walked right through me like she couldn’t even see me. It felt like when I accidentally shot myself with my cold gun, and I frowned. Ghosts weren’t supposed to exist. However, I had business to do, so I ignored the ghost lady and went back to my work. Digger, on the other hand, didn’t take the ghost so well. He let out a string of Australian swear words, yelled something about a “ghost sheila” (knowing him, it was probably the exact opposite of polite), grabbed his crackers, and started to run. I grabbed him by his scarf before he could exit the room.

“Let me go, you bloody loon! You’ve got kangaroos loose in your top paddock if you want to stay here with a ghost, Cold!” Digger yelled.

“Stop freaking out, Digger. She doesn’t have any weapons, she’s not dripping blood, and she’s not bad to look at besides. Just ignore her. We have work to do.” Digger looked closer at the ghost and grinned.

“Bloody oath! She is a beautiful Sheila, ain’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty. I just said that. Now get to work.” I said. Digger ignored me and walked over to the ghost.

“G’day, Sheila. I’m Captain George Harkness of the Australian Secret Service. Who are you?” he asked. (He tells every girl he takes a fancy to that he worked/works for the Australian Secret Service. It’d be a great pick up line if it wasn’t a total lie.) I rolled my eyes as I helped myself to some fine china plates. Was Digger seriously hitting on a ghost?

“Is Australia a northern state, Master Harkness?” the ghost asked. She sounded terrified, and had an accent I couldn’t quite place. Digger laughed.

“Oz? In the North? Sheila, it’s called the Land Down Under for a reason,” he replied. The ghost looked terrified and started to cry. I tried valiantly to ignore the sound and shoved the remainder of the china into my bag.

“What’re you crying for, Sheila?” Digger asked, sounding annoyed.

“B-b-because if you a Southern soldier, you gonna take me and my baby back to slavery!” I noticed that she was, indeed, carrying a baby and grimaced. I did NOT have time for dealing with this crud. Digger walked back over to me.

“I didn’t notice she had an anklebiter. She’s a lovely sheila, but not enough for me to want to be a daddy. And why’s she wailing about slavery?” he asked.

“How should I know? I dropped out of high school at 14, and I don’t have many dealings with ghosts,” I replied in annoyance as the ghost’s wailings got louder. She moved rapidly toward Digger and fell on her knees.

“Please, don’t take my baby, Master Harkness. Let him be free, please, please!” she begged. Digger shot me a pleading look, and I sighed wearily. How did Digger get himself-and me- into these situations?

“Look, lady, we don’t want you or your baby. Now go on, shoo. You and the kid are free, and “Master Harkness” and I have business to do,” I said. The ghost stared.

“Ain’t you Confederate soldiers?” she asked, obviously confused.. Digger and I looked at each other in equal confusion.

“What’s a Confederate?” Digger asked the ghost.

“They’s the soldiers who be fighting to make their own country,” she replied.

“What’s she talking about?” Digger asked me. I shrugged.

“The Civil War…..I think,” I said, drawing desperately from my memories of 8th grade history.

“You mean the war you Yanks had between each other? What’s that gotta do with this sheila?” I racked my brains for any connection between the two and wished that I hadn’t chosen 8th grade history as the class to sleep through.

“Um...she was talking about slavery…I think the South had slaves...probably….and that was maybe why the war started? Possibly? And-and since you said you were from the South, and she’s probably about as well-educated as we are, she didn’t realize that you meant you were from another continent entirely, and so she thought that you were gonna want to make her a slave again,” I said, feeling pretty proud of myself for figuring all that out.

“Didja hear that, Sheila? I’m not a Confederate, whatever that means! Australia’s an island. It ain’t part of America. Now, it’s London to the brick that I’m dangerous, so you probably wanna steer clear of me, but I’m not gonna be taking you to slavery, neither. And, hey, if you got any single friends without anklebiters,, tell ‘em t’ look up Captain Harkness, will ya?” Digger told her cheerfully.

“I..I’m free?” she asked quietly.

“As a bird. Now get outta here. You’re safe in this city,” I told her flatly.

“Thank you, sir! Thank you!” she said. She kissed her baby, and they passed through the kitchen wall and vanished into thin air. As soon as she was gone, I glared at Digger.

“Okay, now that you’re done hitting on a ghost, can we get back to work, please?” I asked.

“If you want to, that’s fair dinkum. I’m gonna go back to my chips,” Digger said. He tried to walk back to the table, but I grabbed him by the scarf before he could and forced him to clear out the rest of the valuables while I took a smoke break. He swore colorfully in Australian the entire time, but I ignored him. He was just packing the last of the chinaware away when another ghost, this one holding a gun, showed up. One look at him told me that we were in trouble, and so I ran out of the room, Digger hot on my heels.

Golden Glider: So, while Mick and Marky-Mark were in the living room, James and Hartley were running around like lunatics, and Lenny and Digger were running away from history as much as they were running away from ghosts, Roscoe and I had decided to investigate the backyard. It contained a rotting porch and a small cemetery, one which was surrounded by a wrought iron fence. It was quite dark, because there were no porch lights, but that just made it all the more romantic. As soon as we left the house, I snuggled up close against Roscoe and we both sat down on the one intact porch step. “Isn’t the darkness so romantic?” I asked him. He looked puzzled, and it was adorable. “I believe that the darkness is the absence of light, my darling,” he said. I tittered. “You’re so funny, Roscoe,” I cooed. He smiled. “I am glad I have pleased you, sweetums,” he said. A cloud moved and revealed the moon, big and red and lovely. I pointed at it in excitement. “Roscoe, look at the moon! Isn’t it beautiful? Doesn’t it remind you of us?” I asked. Roscoe looked concerned. “My darling, the moon is a celestial body that revolves around the Earth. I do not see how it can remind you of us. Did no one teach you about the nature of the moon? It is not a human being,” he said. I sighed; having forgotten how literal Roscoe can be. “Roscoe, dear, I was speaking figuratively. I said it was like us because it’s beautiful, just like we are,” I explained. Roscoe’s eyes lit up in understanding. “I see. Forgive my confusion, my darling,” he said. I kissed him on the cheek. “Of course, honey,” I replied. He kissed me on my cheek, and then I kissed him full on the lips. We were still embracing five minutes later, when a young girl in a white dress appeared. She was completely transparent, and stared at us in silence for a few seconds. “Are you lovers?” she asked quietly. “We are indeed, and my Lisa is a goddess among women,” Roscoe replied. Her face fell, and then twisted into fury. “How dare you flaunt your happiness in front of the grave of a poor rejected woman? Is it not enough that I was rejected by my Robert? Is it not enough that I killed myself of despair? Must I be mocked by your love as well? For your impudence, I will make you suffer as I have suffered!” she screamed. She moved over to Roscoe, kissed him on the lips (please don’t ask me HOW) and then disappeared. Roscoe shoved me off his lap violently and stood up. “Get off of me, you wretch!” he spat. The words felt like a blow. “R-R-Roscoe, what….what’s wrong?” Roscoe had never talked to me like that before, and in that moment I saw Lewis-my “father”-in his face. “You are what is wrong! I am a gentleman, and you-you are common trash. Why I was mad enough to kiss you I’ll never understand!” Roscoe said coldly. “What are you saying?” I asked. “I am saying that I have had enough of dating a welfare queen,” Roscoe replied. Normally, I would have struck back, but I was so bewildered by his behavior that I just stared at him. After a few seconds, he scowled. “What are you staying for, you pathetic wretch? Leave me!” he ordered, and I found my tongue. “No, Roscoe. I am staying right here with you. You may not think you love me anymore, but you will not drive me away. I won’t give you the pleasure of ordering me around like a dog,” I said. “Why not? You are a dog,” Roscoe spat. I moved to slap him, but before I could, we were interrupted by another ghost, this one wielding a old-timey gun, who charged at us. I kicked at the ghost on impulse, but, of course, it went straight through him. While I was distracted, Roscoe abandoned me, but after I regained my balance, I rushed after him and we went into the dining room. “Stop chasing me, you hussy!” he yelled. “I’m not chasing you, I’m running away from the ghost,” I said. As if on cue, the ghost lifted a table and threw it at Roscoe’s head. I pushed him out of the way and narrowly avoided being hit myself. “Why did you save me? It will not make me love a woman like you,” he demanded harshly. This time, I did slap him. “You’re welcome,” I spat. Roscoe frowned. “You dare lay a hand on a gentleman?” he demanded. Before he could continue, however, the ghost levitated all six chairs in the room, and so I grabbed him and pulled him into the hallway. A series of loud crashes followed almost immediately. “I notice that you don’t complain when I touch you in order to save your life,” I said pointedly. Roscoe sniffed haughtily and didn’t reply. Under normal circumstances, I would have led us to the door and left the house, but with Roscoe acting so strangely, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to leave only for Roscoe to keep treating me like dirt, so I decided to stay and take charge of the situation. “All right, so where do we go from here?” I asked. Roscoe scowled. “‘We’ are not going anywhere. Have I not made my disdain for you utterly clear? I am going to one of the bedrooms to go to sleep, and you-I care not where you go, so long as you stay away from me,” he said. I shook my head firmly. “No, we’re staying together. Even if you really do hate me, from a logical standpoint you’re obviously safer with me around,” I replied. Roscoe pondered this for a few seconds, then nodded. “Very well. We will stick together. However, let me make one thing clear: I do not love you. Our current predicament does not change that,” he said, and I felt my heart break. I slapped him again and said, “Fine! See if I care!” With that, I pulled Roscoe up the stairs to the second floor and into one of the bedrooms, which contained an canopy bed, a broken window, an old armorie, and a painting of a handsome young man. The plaque beneath it read "Robert Jackson, beloved son". It was a picture of the man who had spurned his lover. How appropriate. Roscoe laid down on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately (he is definitely not a night owl) and I started crying. How had this perfectly romantic night gone so badly awry?

Mirror Master II: After a quick trip through the Mirror Realm, Scudder and I arrived in the basement. It was awfy dark doon there, I’m nae gonna lie, but the way Scudder was reacting, you’d have thought it was a torture chamber. He was jumping at every little sound and keeping so close tae me that I was practically tripping over him. After aboot a minute of that, I got fed up with him and decided tae tell him tae grow a spine.

“Stop acting like a wean, will ye? It’s hard eno to move doon here without having tae avoid you,” I told him. He moved about an inch further away.

“If we run into a ghost, I’m feeding you to it,” he muttered. I laughed and started looking for trinkets, while he stayed right next tae the stairs. After a few minutes,  I uncovered an emerald ring.

“This is worth something, int it no?” I asked happily. Scudder shrugged.

“Great, you’ve found your prize. Now let’s get out of here!” he said.

“Not yet! I need a bigger haul than this!” I replied. Scudder frowned.

“Look here, you second-rate Mirror Master. I am not about to have my brain turned into soup by a ghost just so that you can sell two rings instead of one. We’re going upstairs now,” he said.

“Who are ye calling a second-rate Mirror Master? I use the Mirror Realm better than ye ever could, ye minger!” I yelled.

“You don’t even know how it works. You just swiped my equipment, you Glaswegian thug!” Scudder replied. Then I punched him, and he punched me, and we got into a fist fight. He was trying tae get oot of my stranglehold when soomthing weird happened: a ghostie showed up. You ken those drawings of fat rich people? It looked like that. I was so surprised that I let Scudder go, and he screamed like a lassie and dove intae the Mirror Realm. Me? I just froze. I didnae have a clue how to fight a ghostie, so I did soomthing pure stupid: I waved at it!  The ghostie levitated a lamp and threw it at me head, only narrowly missing me. I dove intae the mirror after Scudder. He was panicking.

“I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die; please don’t let me die please please please don’t let me die!”

“Calmy doony, Scudder. The ghostie canae come intae the Mirror Realm,” I said. Ten seconds later, the ghostie came intae the Mirror Realm.

“You just had to say it!” Scudder wailed.

“Dinae just stand there, run!” I yelled. Both of us took off running, and only stopped when the ghostie vanished. I grinned.

“We did it! We escaped the ghostie!” I yelled. Scudder smiled slightly, but then he looked around and his smile vanished.

“Oh, no. This is bad, this is bad, this is really bad,” he said.

“What do ye mean? We escaped from the ghostie!” I replied.

“Look around you! Do you recognize any of this?” I looked around, and realized that we were in big  trouble: I didnae recognize anything around me, and I ken most of  the Mirror Realm like the back of my hand.

“We’re lost,” I said.

“No duh, really? I had no idea,” Scudder replied sarcastically.  I tried tae punch him for that, but he dodged me swing.

“I don’t see why you’re punching at me. I was against coming to the creepy ghost house from the start, and if we had stayed home and watched A Nightmare on Elm Street like I suggested, we wouldn’t be in this mess! But did you-or anyone-listen to me? Oh, no! “Ghosts don’t exist, Sam.” “Stop being such a wimp, Scudder.” “We’ll be fine.”  “Stop being such an idiot, Scudder.” Well, WHO’S THE IDIOT NOW?” he yelled hysterically, and I wished that Captain Cold hadnae put me with him, because he looked downright loony.

“Ah am, all right? Now help me find a way oot of here!” Sam laughed weakly.

“Find a way out of the Mirror Realm? You might as well tell me to beat Superman in a fist fight. It’s impossible. There’s a reason that I never go out of sight of the mirror portals: the Mirror Realm is so vast that if you get lost, you’ll probably never find your way back to them-and they’re our only way out of the Mirror Realm. I can’t get us out without the portals, and, thanks to you, Len, and that ghost, I have no idea where they are. Heck, I don’t even know where WE are!” he exclaimed.

“The Land  of Abstract Art, mebbe?” I suggested. We were surrounded by swirls of colors and strange shapes, ye ken? Scudder didnae seem to find that as funny as I’d thought it was.

“Really? We’re lost in a never-ending mirror maze, and you’re cracking jokes?” I shrugged.

“Aye. Beats whining aboot it, ye jerrie.” To tell the truth, I was just as freaked out as Scudder was, but I wasnae about to let him know it.

“You’re a lunatic,” he spat.

“Ah am’nae!” I yelled back. I punched  him, he punched me, and we ended up in another fistfight that only ended when both of us collapsed from exhaustion. Apparently, all the running had taken a lot oot of us. Scudder basically ended up falling asleep on my lap, and I was too tired to move him. After aboot a minute of embarrassment, I fell asleep tae.

Heat Wave: Hi, there. I’m Mick Rory, but you can call me Heat Wave. Everyone does. So, uh, while everyone else was running away from angry ghosts, Weather Wizard and I were still searching for valuables, and not finding any. After about an hour of searching, I got bored, pulled out my flamethrower, and lit the sofa on fire. It was beautiful and pretty and warm, and I decided to touch it. Bad idea, because I was still wearing the tutu, and..well...tutus are really flammable. The fire didn’t exactly hurt me (the prison doc tells me my skin’s so badly burned by this point that it doesn’t feel pain anymore), but it did freak out Weather Wizard, who doused me (and the sofa) with what felt like a gallon of water.

“Hey! You put out my beautiful sofa fire!” I complained. The Wiz scowled.

“In case you didn’t notice, YOU were on fire, too!” he said angrily.

“And now I’m sopping wet AND don’t have my precious fire. I don’t see how that’s an improvement,” I replied. In response, the Wiz beaned me over the head with his wand. (He doesn’t have a good swing, so it  didn’t really hurt.)

“Being wet doesn’t kill you, you big oaf! You know what does? BEING ON FIRE!” His face was red and his eyes were crackling with electricity, so I knew he was pretty upset. Because he can create tornadoes, I decided to apologize.

“You’re right, Mark, and I’m sorry. Thanks for saving me,” I said. His eyes stopped crackling.

“Just don’t do it again,” he said. I nodded and sat down on what was left of the sofa, and Wiz went over to the window and gazed out of it.

“A storm’s brewing,” he said. I don’t think he was trying to sound spooky, but with his tone of voice and his witch costume, he did. A few seconds later, lightning flashed and thunder boomed. Wiz opened the window and leaned out. The wind whipped his (impossibly spiky) hair, and he stared at something in silence. After a few seconds, it got creepy, and so I went over to him and dragged him away from the window. I closed it as soon as he wasn’t in the way.

“Come on, Mark, let’s go to another room. Captain Cold’ll be mad if we don’t find something valuable,” I said. When he didn’t move, I picked him up, threw him over my shoulder, and took him up the stairs and into a bedroom which looked like it might have belonged to a little kid at some point, since there were a bunch of old toys in it. One of the windows was broken, and everything, including the toys, a rocking chair, and a crib, was covered in dust and cobwebs. It was very spooky, although it was in better shape overall than the living room had been. I started looking for something valuable, and the Wiz made a beeline for the window.

“Hey, knock that off! Just ‘cause you’re the Weather Wizard doesn’t mean that you get to look at the weather and not help me!” I said. Wiz turned around and locked eyes with me.

“The storm...it’s an ill wind that blows no good,” he muttered. It was almost like he was in a trance or something. And then it happened: a ghost appeared. Now, it wasn’t super gory-really, it just looked like a transparent teenager-but let me tell you: it was scarier than anything I’ve ever seen in a horror movie. At almost the same time, it started to rain heavily. The Wiz passed out again, and the ghost advanced on me. I decided that discretion was the better part of valor (what? I saw Shakespeare on TV one time), threw the Wiz over my shoulder, and ran downstairs and out of the house with him. (Question: Why is it that he was WAY heavier when he was unconscious than when he was conscious?) I wanted to make Captain Cold happy, but I wasn’t gonna fight a ghost just for some loot. As soon as we got out the door, the ghost stopped following us, so I dumped the Wiz on the ground and began what proved to be a LONG wait for the Mirror Masters to come pick us up. Wiz woke up about five minutes after we got out of the house and cleared up the rain (thank goodness), then took a look at me and smiled.

“You should see yourself. Your tutu’s unrecognizable and I can see your underwear,” he said. I felt my cheeks heat up. Man, that was embarrassing.

“Yeah, well, you fainted twice, so I think we’re even,” I replied. The Wiz flushed, and looked at the ground. A few seconds later, he yawned, then produced a wind that dried up the ground.

“I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me up when Scudder shows up,” he said. With that, he curled up on the ground and dozed off. After a couple seconds, I sat down next to him, and, after a few minutes of trying and failing to come up with an excuse for not finding any loot, I dozed off too. (One of the benefits of being….less than legally employed is that you learn to fall asleep anywhere.) I woke up about twenty minutes later when the Wiz poked me in the side with his wand.

“Huh?” I asked drowsily.

“Where are the Mirror Masters at? Surely they’ve gotta be finished by now,” he whined. I shrugged.

“Maybe they’re still looking for stuff. Or maybe they hit the jackpot and are still gathering up all the stuff they found,” I suggested.

“Well, they better hurry up. I’m bored and tired and I want to get back to my nice soft bed,” the Wiz replied.

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon,” I said. Then I fell back to sleep and was dead to the world for another forty minutes.

Pied Piper: After being trapped in the dumbwaiter for about ten minutes, I turned off my hearing aids. Not being able to hear is never a pleasant experience, but it was highly preferable to listening to a bored Trickster sing “This Is the Song That Never Ends” again and again and again. This solution worked reasonably well until I realized that I very much needed to use the powder room and needed advice as to how to do so without attracting the nightmare creature that wanted to devour my internal organs. Therefore, I had to turn my hearing aids back on, because none of the other Rogues have ever bothered to learn sign language and I had no desire to play charades. As soon as my hearing turned back on, I was greeted with what must have been the fortieth rendition of “This is the Song That Never Ends”.

“James. James. JAMES! I, um, need to use the powder room. Do you have any idea as to how I can do that without meeting the ghost?”

“Depends. What’s a powder room?” He batted his eyes and smiled in the most irritating manner imaginable.

“You know full well what a powder room is!” I exclaimed. James’ smile grew wider as he shook his head.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what you need, Piper,” he said. I sighed and gave in.

“It’s a restroom,” I said, blushing terribly. James laughed and did a particularly impressive trick with his yo-yo.

“Oh, so you need to pee! Why didn’t you say so?” he asked.

“Because my parents did not allow me to discuss bodily functions in public. Ever,” I replied.

“Did your parents allow you to breathe without their say-so?” I frowned. My parents had indeed controlled my days down to the second before they disowned me, but I didn’t want to admit it, so I said,

“Never mind that. Just tell me how to use the powder room without getting killed!”

“Oh, that’s easy. I’ll close my eyes, and you can do your business in here,” James replied. As I did not have access to a mirror, I cannot be sure about this, but I believe that I blushed even harder.

“No!”

“Why not? You can even blindfold me if you want. Believe me, I do NOT want to watch that,” James replied. I scowled.

“Because that is disgusting, James.”

“I don’t see why. It’s what we did in the circus,” he said, sounding genuinely confused.

“This is not the circus!”

“Well, it isn’t exactly Rathaway manor, either. I’m not saying that it isn’t gross, but this place is in bad condition already. You can’t make it much worse,” James replied.

“I think I would rather face the ghost,” I said. James laughed.

“I can’t believe that you’re more scared of breaking your parents’ rules of being “proper” and pretending that you don’t have bodily functions than you are of a literal ghost,” he said.

“This has nothing to do with my parents!”

“Somebody’s in de-ni-al!” James singsonged.

“I’m not in denial. Just because I do not want to be Digger does not mean that this has anything to do with my parents,” I insisted.

“Yep, definitely in denial,” James said. I ignored him and pulled out the mirror that I had brought with me in order to contact the Mirror Masters.

“Sam! McCulloch! If you can hear me, I need you to get me-and James-out of this house!” Nothing happened, and I sighed wearily. There went that idea. About three minutes later, I decided that I couldn’t wait any longer. I opened the doors nervously and, not seeing anything, bolted down the hall to the powder room, used it, and was on my way back when the ghost reappeared. I screamed like a little girl (which is quite humiliating in hindsight) and just froze up in terror. If I had been alone, I don’t want to know what would have happened next, but, luckily for me, James showed up at exactly this point and yelled,

“Hey, Casper! Over here, you preposterous poltergeist!” The ghost howled and started chasing him, and he whooped with glee and ran down the hall in the direction of the staircase. Thirty seconds later, I heard a loud cry of pain from James. I bolted to the top of the stairs and saw that one of the steps had given way under James, and that he had clearly broken his ankle. Worse, the ghost was floating over top of him, and, for the first time, he looked scared. I stared at the scene for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, and then pulled out my flute and started playing it in the desperate hope that its hypnotic powers would work on a ghost. I tried to ignore the fact that my knees were shaking under me as I played, and, after a few seconds, the ghost stopped howling and floated away from James. I carefully went down the stairs to my partner, still playing, then knelt down beside him and put the flute away.

“Do NOT do that again! You scared the daylights out of me!” I snapped. James smiled.

“Aww, you do care,” he said. All his fear seemed to be forgotten and I shook my head in amazement. He had almost been killed (possessed?) by a ghost, and he was already making jokes.

“I did owe you. After all, if you had not attracted the ghost’s attention, I might have been killed. How’s your ankle?” I asked.

“It hurts like the dickens,” he replied.

“Can you walk?” James stood up shakily, winced, and quickly sat back down, then smiled and said,

“I can walk on my hands!” He proceeded to demonstrate. In spite of myself, I laughed a little.

“Can you keep that up long enough to get to the front door?” I asked him after I stopped laughing.

“Probably. Why?”

“Because we are leaving. I don’t know how long my hypnosis will last, but it will wear off eventually, and I do not want to be here when it does,” I explained.

“Aww, but I wanted to see some more ghosts!”

“Can you run on your hands?” I asked. James grinned slightly.

“Maybe?” he asked. I shook my head.

“Let’s go. We can watch The Shining when we get home if you want,” I said. (It’s James’ favorite horror movie, and very useful as a bribe.) James’ grin widened.

“You know me well, Piper. Let’s go home,” he said. With that, we left the house-only to find Mick and Mark asleep on the lawn; Mick in little more than his underwear.

“There’s something you don’t see every day,” James said.

“What, Mick and Mark sleeping on the lawn or Mick in his underwear?” I asked.

“Both, but mainly Mick in his underwear. That’s an image I’ll never get out of my mind,” he replied.

“Me, neither,” I agreed. After a few seconds, James sat down on the ground and pulled out a pack of bubble gum.

“I swallowed my gum when that step broke under me. Want some gum?” he asked.

“I suppose,” I replied. James handed me a stick of gum and then took out one for himself as well. I sat down next to him, unwrapped the stick of gum, and started chewing it. James blew a huge bubble.

“How do you do that?” I asked.

“Blow bubbles? Haven’t you ever had bubble gum before?” he asked. I shook my head.

“My parents said that gum was for plebeians,” I replied.

“Well, if they really did cut you off, you are one now, so that shouldn’t be a concern anymore,” he said. I smiled.

“You have a point. So, carnie, how about teaching this ex-patrician how to properly blow bubbles with bubble gum?” I asked.

“You’re on!” James exclaimed.

Captain Boomerang: I hate all the bloody ghosts in that bloody ghost house! (I also hate Cold for making me go into the ghost house, but that’s beside the point.) After Cold and I ran out of the kitchen, the ghost chased us through several rooms and to the basement stairs. We exchanged a brief look and ran down the stairs into the basement.  

“If that bloody ghost follows us, I’m gonna be as mad as a cut snake,” I said. I was tired of all the running, tired of risking my life, and even more tired of not getting to eat my chips.

“I think he’s stopped chasing us,” Cold said as he looked around. Then he gasped.

“What is it?” I demanded. Cripes, I need a coolie , I thought.

“The Mirror Masters...at least one of them left their Mirror Gun here. It’s their only way back into our dimension. They’d never leave it here.”

“Well, if they’ve carked it, there’s nothin’ we can do. Let’s take our loot and leave this spooky place before another ghost shows up!” I said. I thought that I’d made a good point, but Cold disagreed and punched me in the face.

“We don’t  have any proof that they’re dead, so we’re goin’ in after them. They’re too valuable to lose, and besides, the Rogues don’t abandon their own,” he said. Cold activated the portal to the Mirror Realm and dragged me inside by the scarf. As soon as I got inside, I had a sickie and vomited all over the floor.  

“Scudder? McCulloch? It’s Cold. Where are you?” Cold yelled. No answer.  I stopped vomiting and looked around, then noticed something shiny. I went over to it and discovered that it was an emerald ring.

“Cold, have a Captain Cook at this! We’re rich!” I exclaimed. Cold looked at it...and went pale.

“Oh, no….one of the Mirror Masters must have been spooked by something and dropped it-and if they ran that way and were so panicked that they didn’t notice that they dropped a valuable thing like that, then they’re lost in the Mirror Realm,”  he said.

“Okay. They’ve carked it. Oh, well. Let’s go home,”  I replied. Cold shook his head.

“No. We’re gonna find them,” he said.

“Cold, you just said that they were lost in the Mirror Realm. If THEY got lost, we’ll get lost, too,” I protested. Cold didn’t listen.

“We ain’t gonna get lost, because we’re going to make a trail to follow,” he said. He drew one the spoons out of the bag and placed it on the ground next to his feet. Then he moved about ten feet forward and did the same thing, and did it again about seven feet after that. He’s got kangaroos loose in his top paddock for sure, I thought.

“What are you doin’, Cold?”  I demanded.

“I’m making a trail,” he said.

“Outta  spoons ?” I asked.

“Didn’t you ever hear the story of Hansel and Gretel?”

“I don’t read fairy tales. They’re for wusses,” I said.  Cold scowled.

“Look, I have  a little sister, okay? Anyway, Hansel and Gretel didn’t want to get lost in the woods, so they used bread crumbs to mark where they’d been. That way, when they turned around, they’d know which way would take them back to their starting point. This is the same idea, only our markers can’t be eaten by anything,” he said. With that, he started dragging me by my scarf towards the direction he thought the Mirror Masters had taken.

“You know, I can walk on my own,” I said.

“ Maybe so, but if I let you go, you’ll probably  be walking towards the exit, so I’m keeping ahold of you to be on the safe side,” Cold replied. I stuck my tongue out at him, but he ignored it.  After about twenty minutes of walking, we entered the weirdest place I’d ever seen. There were all these bloody weird shapes and colors, and I couldn't tell which way was up. It freaked me out, but for some reason, it didn’t seem to bother Cold at all.

“Cold, this is really freaky. Can we go back now? We’ll never find the Mirror Masters in this crazy place,” I said.

“Shut up, Digger. We are going to find them, and we are not going to stop walking until we either do or run out of silverware,” Cold replied.

“Ace!” I muttered sarcastically.

“What was that?”

“Nothin’,” I lied.

“That’s what I thought.” He dragged me along for about ten more minutes before I opened my big mouth again. (I think that must be some kind of record.)

“Can we stop now ?”  My legs were killing me (not to mention my neck)!

“No. Stop acting like a six-year-old,” Cold replied.  I really need a coolie, i thought.  

“I wouldn’t be actin’ like an anklebiter if you weren’t actin’ like a dictator,” I snapped. Cold punched me in the side and continued to drag me along like a bloody kelpie. After about four more minutes, i decided that I’d had enough of being dragged around and stabbed Cold in the arm with one of my razor-sharp boomerangs. He swore in pain and let me go, and I grabbed the mirror gun and ran towards the exit. Sadly for me, Cold managed to bean me over the head with a plate and knocked me out. When I came to, I awoke to see a pair of unconscious Mirror Masters. Normally, I would’ve been crosser than a frog in a sock that Cold had knocked me out, but at the moment I was too glad that Cold wouldn’t be dragging me through the Mirror Realm anymore to really care.

“You little Ripper! You found them!” I exclaimed happily.

“No thanks to you,” Cold muttered. He shook McCulloch awake.

“Cold? How did ye get in here?” he asked.

“Either you or Sam dropped your Mirror Gun outside of the mirror in the basement, and I used it to get in here,” Cold explained.

“But how did ye find us?”

“Stubbornness, mainly,” Cold replied. I laughed.

“That’d be right!”  I exclaimed. Cold looked at McCulloch oddly.

“Why is Sam sleeping in your lap?” Cold asked.

“ WHAT? ” McCulloch yelled. He quickly moved Sam off his lap and stood up. This woke Sam up, for obvious reasons. Once he realized what had happened, he noticed Cold, gave him a huge hug, and then punched him in the face.

“I’m...getting some mixed messages here,” Cold said.

“I’m happy you found us, because I thought we were going to die here, but I’m about equally angry at you, because you wouldn’t have had to rescue us if you hadn’t decided to take us to the creepy ghost house in the first place,” Sam explained. I laughed. It’s always good to see Cold get taken down a peg, the arrogant knocker.

“I do nae see why you  being here is a good thing. We do nae ken  how to get back to the Mirror Portals from here, we’ll all die here,”  McCulloch said.

“Actually, we won’t. I marked the path we took from the portals with our loot, so we’ll able to get back fine,” Cold replied.  McCulloch grinned, and my stomach growled.

“Can we go home now? I’m hungry,” I asked.

“Ye and me both, Digger,” McCulloch said. Cold nodded.

“Let’s get back to our reality,” he said. With that, we started the long walkabout back to the Mirror Portals.

Top: My nap lasted precisely twenty-five minutes and fifteen seconds. Then I awoke to see Lisa crying quietly. Normally, I would have felt  horrible upon seeing such a sight, but  at the time, I simply felt disgusted.

"Stop sniveling, you piece of gutter trash. I will  not be moved by your feminine wiles,”  I spat. (I have since apologized profusely for this comment, and for all others made under the influence of the ghost, but my darling Lisa is still distrustful of me, and her brother would have beat me to within an inch of my life for them  had she not stopped him.)

“All right. I WILL stop crying. I should have known better than to show weakness in front of a man who’s just like my father,” she replied angrily. If I had been myself, I would have been horrified by this accusation, but as I was, I merely sniffed dismissively.

“I am nothing like your father. He was an alcoholic boor who lived off of welfare for most of his life, and I am a gentleman,”  I said haughtily.

“And yet you’re calling me names just like he did,” Lisa replied. (In hindsight, her self-confidence was quite admirable, but at the time, I found it irritating.)

“Shut your mouth!” I snapped, unable to refute her argument.

“And let you walk all over me? I don’t think so,” Lisa said. Furious, I raised my hand to slap her, but thankfully, the Civil War-era ghost interrupted us before I could. Lisa grabbed me and pulled me out of the room before the ghost began to levitate anything, thereby saving my life for the third time that night.

“I told you not to touch me!” I said icily. In response, Lisa kissed me on the cheek and I pulled away sharply in utter disgust. (I believe that she was trying to make me uncomfortable in an attempt to snap me back to my senses.)

“I just saved your life again , and you want to complain about me touching you? AGAIN?” she yelled.

“I was aware that we were in danger. There was no need for you to touch me,” I replied coldly. The ghost drifted out of the bedroom we had  been in, and  the two of us ran to the stairs-only to find that one of the steps had collapsed. Lisa sighed and slid  down the banister to the bottom of the stairs, and I reluctantly followed her when the ghost appeared behind me and it became apparent that there was no other means of escape. (We were able to keep our balance because my darling Lisa was a figure skater and I am very resistant to vertigo.) We ran back through the dining room and back into the backyard, and were greeted by a most unusual sight. The ghost who had kissed me was holding hands with another ghost, this one with a noose around his neck.

“Oh, darling, you’re back!” she cooed. The other ghost kissed her.

“Yes, and I’ll never leave you again. I’m so sorry that I abandoned you all those years ago. My father was wrong: you were more important than our money ever could have been,”  he said.

‘I forgive you, Robert,”  she replied. Lisa started to cry again.

“Oh, shut up, you sniveling hussy! You are too far beneath me to deserve my sympathy,” I said harshly. Lisa frowned  and dried her tears rather angrily, then elbowed me in the side.

“Where have you been, Robert?”  the  female ghost asked.

“I don’t know. All I remember before seeing you tonight was a lot of anger at something,” the other ghost replied. The female ghost embraced him.

“Oh, well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters,”  she said. They kissed again, and then the female ghost noticed us and frowned.

“Are you the lovers?”  she asked.

“Formerly. I thank you profusely for showing me my folly,”  I said. Lisa nodded sadly.

“Why do you want to know? You can’t possibly make me any more miserable,” she said. The ghost smiled.  

“Because I am going to show you both mercy. Since my happiness has been restored, I will restore your happiness,” she said. She kissed me once again, and all my love for Lisa came flowing back-as did a crushing sense of guilt.

“My darling, I am so sorry for what I said. I don’t know what came over me, but I swear to you that  I do not care how rich you are. You are a goddess, and I adore you. Please, please forgive me,” I pleaded. I felt like an utter cad. Lisa frowned.

“R-Roscoe?” she asked nervously.

“Yes, sweetums,”  I said. I tried to kiss her, but she pulled away.

“Don’t , Roscoe. After what you said to me tonight, I just don’t trust you. How can I be sure that you aren’t saying you don’t care that I’m “gutter trash” only because of your hormones? What if two or three years down the line, you don’t find me attractive anymore? Will you still love me, or will I suddenly become a “welfare queen” again? I still love you, but I can’t trust you anymore,” she asked

“You...you are breaking up with me?”  I was heartbroken and rather tempted to attack the ghost (if that was even possible), but I could not really blame her.

“I’m not sure. Let’s call it a vacation,”  she replied quietly. There was an awkward pause, and then I said,

“In that case, since our date is off, perhaps we should go to the front lawn and wait for the Mirror Masters to take us back to our hideout.”  Lisa nodded, and we left the backyard, walked quickly through the house, and made it to the front lawn of the house without issue. Upon arriving, we saw Mark curled up on the lawn, fast asleep, Mick napping in little more than his underwear ( a sight that will haunt me until my dying day), and James and Piper blowing bubble gum. James waved at us.

“Hi there, lovebirds! How was your date?’ If there is one thing that James is the master of, it is saying things at the most inopportune times.

“Badly,”  Lisa replied. With that, she left my side and sat down next to Mick. James looked at me quizzically.

“It is a very long story that is frankly none of your business,”  I told him. I walked a few feet away from him, sat down, and buried my head in my hands, ashamed of what I had done to the one person in my life I ever cared for. Apparently, I dozed off at some point, because the next thing I remember was the two Mirror Masters arriving alongside Digger and Leonard.

“Look alive, everyone! We’re moving out!” he barked. Five minutes later, we were all back in our hideout (thanks to the Mirror Masters). Lisa immediately ran over to her brother and started sobbing. My stomach twisted with guilt and I looked away.

“Shhh..shh...shhh..Sis, what happened?”  In response, Lisa told him the whole story through hiccups and sobs. When she was finished, Leonard marched over to me.

“ Is this true, Dillon?” he demanded.

“Sadly, yes,”  I replied awkwardly. In response, Cold punched me so hard he knocked me to the ground.

“Then you’re gonna wish you’d never been born. NO ONE hurts my baby sister,”  he snarled. He moved to hit me again, but before he could, Lisa ran over to him and grabbed his arm.

“Lenny, don’ t!  He was under the influence of a ghost!  It wasn’t all his fault,” she said. Cold scowled, but he walked away anyway as Lisa helped me back to my feet.  

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Better than I should be after treating you so terribly,”  I replied.

“It’s good to to have you back, Roscoe,” she said.

“Does this mean that  we’re back on?” I asked eagerly.

“No, Roscoe, I’m afraid not. It’ll  probably be awhile before I feel comfortable around you again,” she said. She left me and went upstairs, and I was left to mentally berate myself for my idiocy.

Mirror Master I: And...that was basically it. We managed to get home alive from the creepy ghost house, everyone changed out of their costumes, and most of us, exhausted, went to bed (except James and Piper, who decided to watch The Shining for some reason.) The next morning, Trickster went to the hospital to get his broken ankle treated, and the rest of us decided to never, ever go to any house that was supposed to be haunted again. A week later, the Flash caught Len trying to fence his loot, so he’s in prison again. Lisa still hasn’t forgiven Roscoe, and James’s ankle is still very broken, but otherwise, things are pretty much back to normal for us Rogues. So, with that in mind-we would like to wish you all a Happy Halloween!- What James said.

FIN

[honeysuckle-writings]

PART THREE PREGAME AMASAI

*************************

Saihara had been so distracted after everything that once his time was up, he almost forgot to get his game back from Akamatsu. He had watched Amami walked out of the aisle before he leaned back against the book shelf and closed his eyes. What the fuck just happened? Why would Amami even acknowledge him in that sense? Saihara took a moment to collect himself before he attempted to leave. He walked back towards his table and grabbed his bag before exiting the library.

Through everything, he felt like he was on cloud nine. He almost wanted to ask Akamatsu to slap him across the face just to make sure he wasn't dreaming. She would end up being way too happy about that request though.

Luckily he didn't have to go far. Akamatsu had been sitting outside of the door on the ground playing on his console.

"Oh, I d-didnt expect to see you h-here." Saihara figured he would have to go and hunt her down.

"Eh. Didn't want to go far. Too busy." She kept her sentences short, obviously in an intense part of the level.

"I appreciate it."

"I didn't do it for you. I just wanted to spend more time playing and less time fighting people off from talking to me. Fuck!" She growled at the screen and tilted her head back. "Fine. Take the stupid thing back. I'm gunna smash it if I keep trying it."

Saihara reached out and took the console without saying anything.

"You seem like you're in another dimension." She stated as she stood up and flattened out her skirt.

"Oh. Uhm. N-no." He couldn't just tell her what happened. She would not believe him and think he just had a wet dream during detention, resulting in her making fun of him even more. "I'm just, uh, ready t-to get home and get someth-thing to eat."

"Yeah." She didn't enjoying going back to her place either. Saihara never pryed too much into her personal life, but knew most nights she didn't go home until well after 11 or 12 when her parents were asleep. She would bounce between friends and hanging out just to pass time. He wondered where she would be going tonight.

They made their way outside, the sun in it's early stages of setting because of the changing season. Saihara didn't live too far from the school making it very easy to walk to and from. Akamatsu normally walked with him until they reached a stop sign at the end of the street before she would break off and head off on her own.

"I-ill see you tomorrow alright?" Saihara waved at her as she shoved headphones into her ears. She nodded at him and quickly turned on her heel.

Saihara dug his keys out of his pocket and made his way up his front porch steps to the door. Once he entered, he knew immediately that his uncle was probably at his office doing some work on a case and he would be alone to fend for himself. This would include making a small rice side or microwave dinner and enjoying some YouTube theories that people had over the last season and predictions for the new season of Danganronpa, right after a shower of course. He could not stay in his clothes for much longer.

He knew he should probably eat better but microwaved food was so much quicker than actually putting in effort to cook. Finally cleaned and cuddled up in his pajamas, Saihara sat down on the couch facing the television in the living room. He plugged up his laptop to the HDMI cord and displayed his YouTube page on the screen.

He thought about shooting a text to Ouma and seeing how he was doing. After seeing him with Amami, he wondered if he could get any info or reasoning why. Did Ouma know what Amami had done? If they were together, would he be mad at him for doing that to Saihara? Did Amami tell Ouma he was spying? He didn't want to make anything worse for Ouma that's for sure but he had so many questions that were overwhelming him.

Saihara sighed and took his phone off the table and sent the text anyway. He at least wanted to strike up conversation again. Ouma was one of the cutest boys he has ever seen. His hair so puffy and soft that he wanted to just pet it, and if you got him laughing then you would become addicted to the sound. Saihara did have a bit of a crush on him when they had first met, but his timid personality clashed with Saihara's inept one. Now he was settling for a simple friendship.

Saihara: *Hey Ouma! What are you up to?* He set the phone down and began to eat on one of the sides from his dinner and pressed play on a video.

Soon a notification on his phone went off.

Ouma: *Hey,, I'm just doing homework. You..?*

Ouma was even timid in his messages.

Saihara: *I'm eating dinner finally and trying to relax.*

Ouma: *oh, yeah I saw you had to stay after. That super sucks.*

Fuck so he did see Saihara there at least?

Saihara: *Oh yeah! You came in sometime during that huh?? There was someone else with you, I think?* He had to play it cool. Maybe he could make it seem like he didn't even know him.

Ouma: *Oh, uhm, yeah.*

Saihara huffed. That was all Ouma was going to say?

Saihara: *That's cool!* He really wanted to press further but wasn't exactly sure what to say. *Is he a friend of yours? Boyfriend? ;) Name??*

It took a lot longer for him to respond this time. Saihara wondered if he had scared him away. He really just, didn't know how to talk to people most of the time. He would become annoying or exhausting and people would eventually cast him away. Social cues just were not his specialty, but he really was trying to work on it.

While he waited, Saihara reached down on the ground for his messenger bag and lifted the flap to look for his notebook. It wasn't right there in the front. He could have sworn he had just stuck it in. He checked behind the other things he had but there was no trace of the notebook. Saihara's eyes widened and he suddenly felt his chest tightening. Fuck.

He knew the sound of his phone had gone off but it sounded so muffled, much like he was underwater. His vision also started to become blurry. Did he leave it at the library? Did it somehow fall out? Someone was going to take it and his life would be over. He found himself gasping for air, the room feeling like it had been closing in on him and he was losing oxygen.

Shakily he reached back into his bag once more, not for his missing notebook, but another compartment that held a small bottle. He flipped the lid off taking a small pill out and took it with a swig of his drink. He kept these on him for moments like this. Moments when he was loosing himself in an attack and needed help to calm it down. He was supposed to be taking them regularly but he opted to only take them during panic attacks.

His mind was running 80 mph as he imagined scenarios of someone picking up his notebook and spreading everything through the school. He grabbed a couch pillow and shoved his face into it, trying to regulate his breathing and keep himself from passing out.

It felt like years to him, but finally he felt himself begin to relax. He could still feel a sense of fear, but his breathing had gone down and his body felt weak. The downside of this was the feeling afterwards, like almost a delay in his reactions. It certainly calmed him down, but it didn't fully take away the feeling that got him there. It was just easier to handle now.

The pillow fell lazily to the ground with a thump and Saihara looked over to his phone. Maybe he would look and distract himself from everything. As he pressed his on button, the screen lit up and it took a second for his vision to adjust to focusing on it. He clicked on the text message Ouma had sent a while ago.

Ouma: *saihara, we both know you know who he is..*

Ouma wasn't wrong. He really didn't think about it when he had sent his reply earlier. He probably looked like a big dumbass. What was he even supposed to say now? A lot of time had passed so he assumed Ouma thought he had ignored him after being called out. Shit another great attempt at a friendship.

Saihara: *Sorry, I know. I was just trying to keep up conversation and not sound too stalkery.*

He put his phone down on to his laptop and looked over at the food he hadn't finished eating. At this point his appetite was shot so it was going to end up as lunch for the next day. Saihara pulled himself up on to wobbly legs and took the bowl to the fridge. Another ding came from his phone, and then another as he finally got back over to the couch.

Ouma had replied.

Ouma: *You're fine,, no worries. Its good that you didnt freak out about it... hehe*

One thing did bother him about the responses. Ouma never addressed the boyfriend part of his question. Saihara wondered if maybe that was intentional. Maybe Ouma didn't want anyone to know or maybe he thought Saihara would throw a fit if he knew, which wasn't the case at all.

But another number had also contacted him.

*Saihara.*

That was, weird. Saihara stared at the message trying to figure out what the best response should be. This mystery number was just another thing on top of his already overwhelmed plate.

Saihara: *Maybe?* That was the stupidest response but nothing else seemed like it would be vague enough to match the vibe.

*Are you missing something?*

Saihara's eyes widened. This had to be the person who stole his notebook.

Saihara: *What gives you the right to dig into my stuff?*

He'd be lying if he said he was anything less than livid. Who had the balls to dig into others belongings? In all actuality, he could think of a few. Momota came to mind. He wouldn't think twice about taking whatever he wanted and having more of a reason to ridicule him. Saihara hoped to whatever deity out there that it wasn't him.

*Says the person who likes to eavesdrop on conversations he isn't a part of.*

Saihara re-read the message at least ten times in his head. No, no way. It couldn't be him. How would he have even gotten his phone number? He didn't have it written down in the notebook anywhere. Maybe someone had been watching them?

Before he knew it, Saihara had pressed the call button at the top of the text messages, determined to get to the bottom of it.

The phone rang three times before it was answered.

"Yeah?"

There was no mistaking that voice. Even over the phone it made him melt like butter.

"Amami?" His voice came out breathy, with a small squeak as he struggled to fit pieces together.

"Mhmm." Amami answered with more of a confirming noise than anything.

"You, you have m-my notebook?"

"You really like Danganronpa don't you?"

Well that answered it. Saihara stayed quiet at that. The answer was completely obvious. Then it hit him. All of the pages that had been dedicated to Amami, were now in his hands.

"Did you, uhm, uh, re-read all o-of it?" Saihara began to bite on his finger nails trying desperately to stay grounded.

"Eh, not yet. You kind've interrupted me." How was Amami so chill about this. He acted so nonchalant about what he had done, about the reactions he was recieving from Saihara.

"Listen, uhm, c-can I just hav-ve it back, please?"

"Sure. I'll give it back to you tomorrow. If you don't get yourself stuck back in the library again."

Saihara pulled his finger out of his mouth and huffed loud enough to he heard against the reviever.

"H-how did you ev-ven get my n-number?" He may have sounded a bit more agitated than he intended to show.

"That's for me to know. Got it?" His smooth, relaxed voice now had a firm sound to it.

"O-okay." Saihara responded immediately. It was time for him to accept his fate at this point.

"I'm not going to share it with anyone." Amami reassured him, almost like he could hear what Saihara was thinking. "I'm not the type of person to do that."

"B-but you're th-the type to s-steal out of pe-peoples bags?"

There was a moment of silence between the two.

"I-im sorry. I d-didnt mean to, to snap." Saihara apologized. "I was j-just, uh, freaking out earlier."

Amami had made another noise in response to the confession. "I'm not surprised. Look, I'll give it to you tomorrow. No one else will see it. Meet me at the store across the street in the morning okay?"

"Okay. Uhm. I just, I advise you b-before you read more. It's uh, s-some of it m-may have you in it."

"Do you not want me to read that then?"

That caught him off guard. Did Amami really care enough to skip the pages doodled in hearts about him? Or would he lie and read them anyway?

"If you really don't want me to then I won't. I haven't gotten far. Just a couple of excecution you have planned out."

Saihara thought for a moment. Amami had touched him in the library today. What if he was actually eager to read what was in there? Maybe Amami could handle it, if he felt the same way. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of Amami feeling the same way about him.

Deep down, it was also thrilling to have him read those fantasies.

"Y-you can."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I-I don't mind. Just, d-dont hate me for some of the s-stuff in there."

"Want me to tell you when I have or keep it to myself?"

This all seemed to point towards Amami actually caring about his feelings in all of this. It reassured Saihara that perhaps things wouldn't be so bad. Maybe the outcome would be much like the movies where one person would read the love letters and fall in love with the sender.

"Please tell me. I'll b-be worried sick if I just, just don't know anything."

"Will do then. I'll text you." And with that Amami hung up.

Saihara let out a shaky breath and saved the number into his phone. Amami's name, with quite a few hearts following. He couldn't help it. This is not at all how he thought he and Amami would start talking, but he still relished in seeing that name in his contacts and felt like he was in a dream state. That night he was going to eagerly wait with his phone volume turned up.

[petaldancing]

fic: for all the times i can’t reverse

fandom: pokespe characters: sapphire, ruby summary: ten years later, they strike a new deal read: on AO3 or below

notes: for gret, who gave me the prompt: "don't ignore me" P.S. i haven't finished the ORAS arc, so not sure if this is canon-compliant, P.P.S. for pokemon nicknames, i use chuang yi's translations cause that's what i grew up reading

have i come a long way from 50 frantic ways? *shrug* but i’m still a sucker for these two a literal decade on

----

Over the years, Sapphire has attempted all manner of confession: face-to-face under torrential rain, hand in hand standing before the possible end of the world, foolishly through Gold, a bit more gently through Crys, yelling mid-argument, and then, softly, when there is no one else around but them.

Likewise, Ruby has mastered all tactics of avoidance: pushing her off Pilo’s back, using imminent disaster as distraction, pretending not to hear her, feigning ignorance, keeping his big mouth shut for once .

She does not know when she grows out of this back and forth and stops trying. Maybe it is when she is sixteen or eighteen. She’s twenty-one now, and looking back at the last few years, her friendship with Ruby has improved. They still argue, but it’s less these days. (Emerald would be proud of ‘em, if he bothered to step out of his lab to notice.) Their fights are no longer about unrequited feelings or ten-year old love confessions. It’s more like: which way to go when they’ve gotten lost, or how her new clothes aren’t colour-coordinated, stuff that they can laugh about, stuff that can be either ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. You can’t really do that with feelings.

Part of why they fight less is because they talk less too. The Petalburg Gym is always expecting new challengers and she hasn’t had a break since she took over Norman three years ago. Having this job takes her mind off nagging thoughts, pushes her to keep training, adapting to new trainers and their partner pokemon visiting from regions she’s never had the luxury to travel to. On the rare afternoons she can afford to leave the gym early, she treks through the lush forests encircling the city, retracing the steps of her childhood backyard.

As she walks with Toro, she thinks about new strategies, designs for the gym, what she’ll have for dinner, and on days she passes by her old Secret Base—Ruby. Unlike the past, when the thought of him would make her scowl, now it is more often accompanied by a sigh, maybe a sheepish grin if she is in a good mood. It’s not just because she’s mellowed a bit since her anxious teenage days. It’s because he’d spent a lot of effort on the old Secret Base, dolling it up and even adding a tent with pillows inside for her in case she spent a night in the forest. “Though I’ll never understand why anyone would want to,” he’d sneer, as if begging to start another fight.

Now, he’s always in Lilycove judging those Pokemon Contests. But once a month, she’ll receive a parcel from him with something fancy to clip in her hair and this particular brand of Pokemon food that Toro and the rest like to eat. It’s shipped in from Kanto, and Lilycove is the cheapest place to get it. Usually Ruby includes a hurried note like “Mimi’s gotten even prettier” or “I found the perfect fabric today” or “I’ll visit soon”, though the third time she receives this particular sign off, Sapphire takes it with a grain of salt.  

She hasn’t been to the old base in awhile, but today is special. She weaves through the twisty paths of the woods until the leaves open up to the entrance of the long abandoned Secret Base. The sound of dry leaves and twigs crunches under the soles of her boots. All the memories she and Ruby made here, it’d been before they got proper jobs and stopped hanging out, before they cleared out the entire base, before she gave up on him replying her confessions.

She remembers stumbling into the base after getting into a nasty fight with a group of territorial Mightyena, and how Ruby brandished a first aid kit and stitched the deepest cut up. And the other time, when he surprised her with a cake on her birthday and didn’t get too upset when she couldn’t resist smashing a slice into his face. And the time when they both fell asleep waiting for the rain to stop, and she dreamt that he’d touched her cheek and whispered something she couldn’t hear. And, the very first time they met—their 80-day bet. So many things changed in the span of those 80 days.

Sapphire double checks the date on her PokeNav. Ten years ago on this day, she swung from a vine and saved a helpless Ruby. Ten years ago, she reunited with the little, fierce boy who saved her when she’d been helpless.

In the middle of this tranquil forest, Sapphire shuts her eyes and feels the warm sunlight on her skin. How much has changed the past decade? She’s proven her worth as a gym leader, she’s met and learned from so many other Dex Holders and pokemon masters, she’s become a braver and wiser person. So what if the only thing that she hasn’t gotten better at is dealing with Ruby? So what if she can’t help but come back to this sentimental spot even though she should’ve grown up and moved on by now?

Just then, she hears a rustle from inside the Secret Base.

Toro readies its fists as Sapphire jumps back and lands on all fours. “Who’s there? Come out!” she growls at the darkness.

“Easy. It’s just me.”

Toro lowers its talons and squawks, immediately recognising the voice.

Ruby steps out into the light, a hand adjusting the frame of his spectacles. He’s stopped wearing his goofy hat, and looks a lot like his dad now. Except, his eyes are kinder. They’ve always been. Zuzu the Swampert appears beside him, greeting them with mild-mannered coos.

“What’re you doing here? You spooked me!” Sapphire asks as she stands upright, more surprised than angry. Zuzu and Toro are much more agreeable with one another, bounding off to play fight in a pile of leaves.

“Very nice to see you again too,” Ruby says with a dash of sarcasm, and inches back when she shoots him a dirty look. “Just thinking of redecorating, I suppose,” he relents, propping a hand on his chin. He examines the mouth of the cave with a measuring tape as Sapphire stands aside, jaw slack. “Remember how this used to look? I must admit it was one of my best interior design projects. I don’t think I gave myself a proper pat on the back for that. No matter, I’ve already got ideas for how to make Secret Base 2.0 even more fabulous!”

Sapphire doesn’t understand what’s happening. Trust Ruby to be the sort of person who you miss, and then immediately want gone when he’s actually around. “That was when we were kids! What… what’s the use of coming back here now? Don’t you have a job?”

Ruby glances over his shoulder mid-measurement and raises an eyebrow. “Pot calling kettle black, much?”

Sapphire sucks in a breath and stands her ground. “This is my neck of the woods! I can come here whenever I want!”

“You know how I never really liked spending time at that house with my dad around? This place is about the closest place I’d call home for me, at least in Hoenn. Lilycove is nice and clean and all, and I hate to admit it, but I was starting to miss this place.” Ruby does not turn around when he says this, but watching the firm line of his chin and the hand he runs along the cave wall, Sapphire can tell that he’s being serious.

“And today’s our anniversary, isn’t it? Of the day we met.” He spins on his heel to finally face her.

Sapphire wills herself not to blush like a thirteen-year old, and it is easy when she thinks about how Ruby shouldn’t be allowed to use that word.  

“Pfft. Anniversary? Ain’t that reserved for lovey-dovey couples? Who gave you permission to call it that?” Sapphire feels her heart sting at this, and hopes that it hurts Ruby too, even just a fraction.

The expression on his face shifts, from classic, nonchalant, above-it-all Ruby to a more neutral one. He presses his lips together and slowly winds the measuring tape around his knuckles, fidgeting with his hands.

“Will you help me rebuild the Secret Base, Sapph’?” he tries to change the topic.

“Why should I? I don’t come here anymore.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?” Ruby points out.

Sapphire sputters. “That’s—argh! Look, maybe to you it’ll be a fun and easy project, something to getcha’ mind off the stress of work. Whatever. This place means a lot more to me than you, and I ain’t in the mood to be a part o’ your flights o’ fancy.”

“It means a lot to me too.” Ruby stares at her, his mouth curving into a frown.

The words burst from Sapphire before she can contain them: “Then why didn’t you come back sooner?”

Her emotions have gotten to him and he fires back without filtering his words either. “I didn’t know what to do! I didn’t know when would be a good time. I didn’t know how scary and disgusting the cave would be. I… I didn’t know how to tell you that I missed you, Sapph’.”

Hearing this from Ruby, the Ruby who is supposed to be selfish, the Ruby she hates, the Ruby she loves, Sapphire clenches her hand into a fist. She does not say a word, instead choosing to glare at him, daring him to continue.

To his credit, he does. “I know I’ve been a Gold-level jerk about it, but I’m not good with words. Running away? Making anything look pretty? All that’s easier than talking about feelings.” Ruby straightens his posture and removes his spectacles, so that he’s looking directly at her. “But Sapph’, all the times we’ve spent and all the times we’re going to spend—they’re important to me too. They’ve always been. I was too young and immature to face it. I’m trying to get better at it. Ten years is a long time to do nothing, and I don’t want to spend the next ten years not doing anything.”

Sapphire bites down on her lip, suppressing the urge to shout at the top of her lungs, to point and laugh at how their roles have reversed. To give him payback for all these years of chasing and dodging and convenient amnesia, hasn’t that been something she’s always wanted?

But Ruby’s words also cause her to think about everything she’s been through with him. She wouldn’t call it ‘doing nothing’. It’s everything but that. Haven’t they been through thick and thin together since their very first adventure? Haven’t they saved the world and held hands more times than she can count? Sure, they never talked about what they meant to each other, but at the end of the day, she knew that Ruby had her back. That he’d be there, always with a new set of clothes for whatever reason, and how she loved wearing the stuff he made even though she was too embarrassed to admit it.

Maybe she should have paid more attention to what Ruby did for her, instead of the stuff he refused to say. Maybe she’s been just as much of an immature brat as him.

“Don’t ignore me,” Ruby says in a soft voice. It is the voice of someone who is guilty, who knows that they don’t deserve a reply, not after what they’ve done, and not done.

For all the mistakes Ruby has made, Sapphire is sure she’s made some too. And Ruby, he never really left her alone, even when they had huge, ugly fights. Even when they were cities apart. He always found a way to show that he was still thinking of her, with sparkly hair clips she only wore on special occasions, and a bag of food that wasn’t meant for her.

Sapphire clears her throat and says, “I’ll help you rebuild the base, on one condition.”

Ruby visibly gulps. “What?”

“Take me out on a date.” She puts her hands on her hips.

He blinks a few times, as if he can’t quite process what she just said.

“Deal?” she asks with a chuckle. It’s funny, seeing Ruby caught off guard.

“Alright,” Ruby concedes at last. Instead of looking defeated, he smiles.

Sapphire lifts her hand up for a handshake. When Ruby takes her hand in his, it is a warm and familiar feeling. It reminds her of deep seas and heavy floods and relentless droughts and soaring through the skies. Of soft, blurry afternoons playing in the grass, childish laughter ringing in the air.

“It’s a deal.”

[charanteleclerc]

find your way into my world

For mercys-adam, who requested "Seb joins Valtteri on one of his rallies". I can't find the original prompt in my inbox (I know it was there yesterday, so I may have accidentally deleted it, I'm so sorry, but I hope you enjoy!

Update: Turns out it was spidey-charles all along! Thanks for the prompt!

There was nothing like the thrill he got from rallying. It wasn’t that he didn’t love F1, the sheer speed and adrenaline rush he got from racing in his Mercedes was like nothing else. There was just something about getting into a car and driving dangerously close to the tree just got his heart going, it made him feel so alive. He didn’t have to travel thousands of miles just to race. There was no press to deal with. It was just all about the racing, pure and simple. He needed it, every so often, to race and focus on only that. It was freeing, almost.

It was so disconnected from the rest of his life, he could do nothing but star when he saw Sebastian Vettel walking towards him, looking more relaxed than he’d ever seen him. And Seb was walking towards him.

“Hey! Valtteri!” Seb waved at him, grinning. He could feel his jaw drop open, blinking a couple of times.

“Oh - shit, shit…” He panicked, clutching his mug to his chest. “He saw me, didn’t he? Oh fuck…”

“Hey!” Suddenly Seb was in front of him, looking happy and relaxed and wow, did he always look like that when he was relaxed? Was that how any of them looked relaxed?

If so, he probably hadn’t seen anyone look relaxed at the Paddock ever.

“Huh?” Was all he could manage, still blinking. “What are… er… here? You? Here?”

Seb laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I needed a break, and I heard from someone you were racing, and it’s an excuse to leave Kimi’s house for a little bit.”

“Kimi’s not here is he?” He looked around wildly, half expecting Kimi to be suddenly stood behind him. Seb laughed again, shaking his head.

“No, he’s got both the kids by himself today, and they were yelling something about going swimming. I didn’t stay long enough to get roped in.”

“Oh. Right. Okay.” His brain was still struggling to catch up, trying to piece together the information of Seb and here and now. He wasn’t totally sure he wasn’t hallucinating, half tempted to grab someone and ask ‘is Sebastian Vettel really standing in front of me?’.

“So, you just came?” He said dumbly. Seb nodded, seemingly not noticing his confusion, or if he did he was too kind to say otherwise. “You just came here?”

“Yes.” Seb said, nodding. “I realised I don’t actually see much other racing, and figured this was a good place to start. Plus, you’re here, you can walk me through all this.”

“Uh… okay. I’ve got to get in the car soon, but I can give you a quick tour? If you want?”

“Sounds great!” Seb replied cheerfully. “So where’s your car?”

“In the tent.” He made a gesture behind him. “It’s not fancy though.”

“I can see that.” Seb said matter-of-factly, walking towards his tent. “Can I have a look?”

“Sure.” Valtteri shrugged, bemused. It was no secret that Seb was interested in cars, he wanted to know how they worked inside and out, but a rally car was a very different to the finely tuned car Seb was used to. With those cars mere millimetres mattered, rally cars were solid tanks of machinery. These were designed to be thrashed around, not glided. These cars controlled you, rather than the other way around.

“Wow.” Seb breathed as he looked over his car, face alight in wonder. “It’s beautiful.”

“I have never heard it described like that before.” Valtteri laughed. “Powerful, yes. Never beautiful.”

“You don’t think?” Seb sounded almost wounded. “It might not be elegant, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s perfectly designed for its environment, almost like it’s part of it. You wouldn’t call that beautiful?"

“I never really thought about it.” Valtteri said honestly. “I just always thought of it as part of my relaxation, part of my home. We don’t have beautiful exotic locations, it’s just… life.”

“You should open your eyes more.” Seb said absently, still circling the car. “How long is the stage today?”

“25km, not the longest stage, that’s at the end this year.” Valtteri explained.

“Around the forest?”

“Yes.”

Seb hummed, eyes narrowing as he crouched down. “Speed?”

“Solidly about 70? If you get a good stretch then you can do about 80 or 90, but you don’t usually get a lot of long straights.”

“It’s no Abu Dhabi.” Seb joked. “It’s impressive, the car.” He looked up, nodding in appreciation. “Can you win with this?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll try anyway.” Valtteri crossed his arms. “Don’t we always want to win?”

“Can’t deny it.” Seb agreed, standing up.

“Bottas, you need to be getting ready.” An official walked into the ten, headphones on and clipboard out. “You’re due out in thirty.”

“Thanks.” Valtteri called, putting down his coffee. “Sorry, I had better listen to him. Are you staying around after the race?”

“I suppose I could.” Seb teased. “It would be stupid to come all this way otherwise, no? I’ll see you at the end.”

“Enjoy it. The rally.” Valtteri said, as Seb retreated out of the tent. “You’ll get to see some real racing.”

“Maybe I will.” Seb said, looking a little haunted, and then he was gone, the tent silent once more.

~*~

His heart was still pounding as he clambered out of the car, Timo mirroring him. There was really nothing like it, drifting so close to the trees that if he leant out of the car he would touch the branches. The adrenaline was racing through his heart, he could almost see the world clearer, sharper. His emotions were rawer, he felt more alive. He never felt like this in the glitz and glamour of F1, where you were more celebrity than racer.

Seb was walking over to him, hands in his pockets, looking every inch the average fan. He was half-expecting crowds to be following the guy, there was no doubt he’d been recognised, but he also wasn’t likely to have a lot of fans here either. Wrong type of racing, and the people here were loyal to their own, this was Kimi’s crowd, not Seb’s.

“That was a good drive.” Seb remarked as he drew closer. “I’m impressed.”

“Have you ever seen a rally race before?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“No,” Seb admitted, “But that doesn’t stop me being impressed.”

“I’m not the best guy out there.” Valtteri pointed out. “Not even close.”

“I don’t care.” Seb shrugged, leaning up against the car. “Are you done for the day?”

“Probably not, there are still guys running, this goes on pretty late.” Valtteri shrugged. “Getting bored already?”

“Of course not.” Seb flushed a little, eyes dropping. “I was just going to grab a drink, if you wanted?”

“I’ll stay on coffee, but I’ll let you know when I can have a real drink.” Valtteri chuckled. “I’d better go and check-in, I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Okay.” Seb said, heading back down the Paddock again. That had been weird, but the entire day had been weird. He hadn’t expected to see Seb at at all today, let alone for Seb to come here for him, and then to offer to get him a drink. It was an offer he was going to take up though, because if it was some kind of olive branch of friendship, he didn’t want to reject it. Seb was so private, and only had ever really had a couple of friends in the Paddock. It must have taken a lot of courage to come here by himself, he had to at least meet Seb halfway.

~*~

He found Seb lurking in the back of his tent, looking uncomfortable. The mechanics were fussing around his car, giving Seb a deliberately wide berth. He hadn’t been lying when he said that they were dangerously loyal up here. Seb wasn’t necessarily the enemy (he’d managed to stay in the tent, which was a vague miracle), but he was just not Kimi Raikkonen. It wasn’t his fault, but he just wasn’t.

He headed over to him, holding out a plastic cup filled with cold, cheap beer. “I think you were after one of these?”

Seb jumped a little, looking relieved when he realised who it was. “Hey. Oh yeah, I was. Thanks.”

“Well, you owe me one now, so…” Valtteri trailed off, chuckling at Seb’s expression. “You offered first.”

“I’d better sort that out today, can’t have the press finding out that I bought my rival a beer.” Seb smirked, cradling his cup to his chest. “What kind of beer is it?”

“Shit beer.” Valtteri shrugged. “It’s not a top bar, there’s one type and you just take it.”

“Not exactly the champagne bar we’re used to seeing.” Seb joked, taking a gulp of his drink. “It is beer. Just."

“Sometimes it’s just what you need.” Valtteri said, sitting next to Seb. “Why did you come here?”

“I was in the area, I said that - ”

“No, why are you really here?” Valtteri interrupted. “I know you’d rather spend your time with Kimi and his kids, rather than sitting around in a cold tent drinking terrible beer. So why are you here?”

Seb was quiet for a moment, staring intently at his beer. “Looking at my options for the future. Both you and Kimi really enjoy this, and Fernando, and I thought maybe…” He trailed off. “I don’t know what I thought.”

“Seb, you don’t need to do anything else. I only do this for fun.” Valtteri explained. “You have never shown interest in this before.”

“The retirement rumours have been following me since I was twenty-six.” Seb said, sounding angry and sad and tired. The tension he was used to seeing in the other man was back, his shoulders hunched. “Eventually they’ll get it right.”

“Then you can do something you love, rather than trying to force this into your life. I said this feels natural to me, you need to find what feels natural to you.”

Seb didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then he straightened up a little, and smiled, looking a little more at ease. “Thank you. That was much better advice that Kimi gave me.”

“What did he say?”

“Something about me being a fucking idiot, and if I wanted to retire I might as well be an old man and stay in my garage.” Seb gave a small laugh. “I think he meant it as an insult."

“At least he’s honest.” Valtteri snorted. “But if you ever want to come on a rally again, let me know before? I’ll take you out in the car.”

“Well, I can’t turn that down, can I?” Seb grinned. “Might be worth freezing my balls off for.”

“We’ll convert you yet.” Valtteri teased, downing his beer. “Do you want more shit beer?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“So, the bar is that way…” He pointed down the Paddock, giving Seb his empty cup.

“Sneaky, Bottas!” Seb laughed, jumping up and walking to the front of the tent. “I’ll ask them to give you the really shit beer!”

“You wouldn’t!”

“We’ll see about that!” Seb winked, disappearing into the night, leaving Valtteri to stare at the empty tent.

“Well, fuck.”

So sorry it took so long! (I'm going to be saying that for a while I think!) As usual, crossposted to my AO3 (Charante_Leclerc), and prompts are always open (there's just a bit of a waiting period!) Enjoy ❤️

[aquawolfgirl]

Prompt request about rey and Ben and prom. Super cheesy and fluffy with a dirty little trick at the end. 😏😏😏😏😏 also SWAR update was so good !

I have no idea what a ‘dirty little trick’ means but I can do super cheesy and fluffy and try for something a little dirty? Or at least implied, because I don’t want it to be too long? 

And thank you for liking SWAR, love!

For something that’s supposed to be the definition of a great time, the peak of her high school career, and the best night of her life, she expected there to be more excitement. 

“Are you almost ready, Rey?” 

“I would be if these shoes weren’t so hard to put on!” she calls back to her grandfather as she tries to manipulate her arms and legs and hands and wrists in an attempt to put the tiny little bit of gold leather through the tiny little gold buckle. 

It’s a feat and a half, considering she’s been at it for what feels like ten minutes. 

“Do you need help?” 

Her best friend’s low voice comes through her bedroom doorway, and she looks up to see Ben standing there in his tux, the cream and pale pink corsage in his hand, still in the plastic box. She blinks at him, at how handsome he looks, the dark suit a stark contrast to his pale skin. “If you don’t mind,” she replies, offering her foot to him, the sandal barely hanging off of it. 

He sets the corsage down on the desk, on top of her engineering textbooks and notes from the finals they just finished, and she watches as he kneels before her and slips her sandal on. It’s comical to see him try and get the buckle, his fingers much bigger than hers, but the angle is apparently better, because he ends up getting it. She wonders if this is how Cinderella felt as he takes her other foot and guides it into the sandal, not caring that she didn’t go and get a mani-pedi like the rest of the girls in her class. Sure, they’re not bad looking, but she didn’t do the best job. There may still be some sky-blue on the side of her toe, but she can’t bother to check. 

“There you go, Cinderella,” Ben offers quietly, standing and offering his hand to her. “You look beautiful.” 

His eyes look so much bigger without his glasses, she thinks, as she takes his hand and then gathers her ivory halter dress in her hands, some of the frothy lace still remaining on the edges. It had been a thrift store find, and was covered in old, vintage lace. The rest is in a box after she’d taken a seamripper to it, leaving some just to make it a bit fancier than just a plain white dress. It had taken some work, sure, but for 15 dollars and a reasonably good fit, she’d rip out ten yards of lace. 

Realizing she hadn’t said anything back, she blushes. “Thanks. Let’s just get this over with. I really don’t want to go.” 

“Me either, but there’s food, and Dad’s chaperoning, so if all else fails I can go sit in a corner and you can talk to him about cars for three hours,” Ben mutters as he offers his arm. She smiles and grabs the little gold clutch she also found at a thrift store, taking his arm and walking out towards the stairs. 

“Smile!” 

“Grandpa!” Rey complains, laughing as she’s blinded by the flash of Grandpa Ben’s camera. 

- 

“You think if I fake being sick, we can leave early?”

The question comes thirty minutes into the night, the music awful to Rey and her boyfriend sitting beside her on one of the couches in the lobby of the event hall. It’s a giant, tacky thing with a big chandelier and gold paint everywhere, the couches plush and red. She’s more than sure it would be beautiful if it was the 70s or the 80s, but it’s very much not. At least they’re comfortable, she thinks, as Ben traces circles on her upper arm. She’s tucked into his side, his tux jacket around her bare shoulders as they hear the thumping of the music from the ballroom. 

“Maybe,” Ben admits, sounding as bored as she feels. 

“Hey, kids.”

Rey lifts her head from Ben’s shoulder to see Han. Rather than the suit that he’d been asked to wear, the man’s wearing dark blue suit pants, a white t-shirt, and a black blazer. He looks as gruff as ever, scruff messy and grey hair messier as he walks over with his hands in his pockets. “Hi, Han.”

“I would ask why you’re not dancing, but I saw you two out there. Your feet okay, Rey? Need an ice pack or a ride to the emergency room?” Han asks, raising one bushy grey brow at the girl. 

Rey smirks and shakes her head as Ben glares at his dad. “I think I’m good. They can’t do much for broken toes, anyway.” 

“Shut up,” Ben mumbles, and Rey just grins as she leans over to kiss his cheek, leaving what’s left of her rose-colored lipstick upon his cheek. It does make him smile a bit, though, and he tucks her close. 

There’s a slight cough from Ben’s dad, something that sounds like words leaving his lips even as he covers his mouth with his fist, and Rey frowns, not having caught a word of it. “You okay, Mr. Solo?” 

“Yeah, yeah, all good,” Han insists, before he coughs again, and this time she can just barely see his smirk under his hand. “I, uh, told the others you two were going home, that Rey wasn’t feeling well. Something about the chicken they gave you kids not sitting right. But … there’s a reservation under Solo at the desk.” 

Rey can feel Ben sitting up straight. “Dad-”

“I hated prom, too,” Han offers as he waves his hand. “Go, have fun, just be up by nine. Your mom’s coming tomorrow with clean clothes, then we’ll take you to breakfast, how’s about that?” 

Rey doesn’t even get the chance to thank the man she hopes will be her father-in-law before Ben’s taking her hand and dragging her to the front desk, her laughter echoing through the hotel lobby at his eagerness. 

“Just be sure to wear those condoms your mom put in Rey’s bag! I’m too young to be a grandfather!”

[buytoppeptides]

Peptides for Sale Online: A Review of 4 of the best Peptide Companies

Buying peptides online can be very difficult.  There are hundreds of peptide manufacturers online to choose from.  Which company can you trust?  Here’s a review of the top4USA peptides companies that have Peptides for Sale on their websites that we have personally tried over the last 10 years. Scores were given from 1-10 with 1 being bad, 5 being average and 10 being the best.  Not everyone we researched made the cut.  There were 12 companies we looked at and attempted to order from and communicate with to gauge product quality, customer support, shipping time and more listed below.  The factors used to consider who to recommend as a trusted online USA peptide supplier were as follows: •    Inventory Size andSelection.  We found that the number of products offered per peptide online store ranged from around 40 to over 100 with the average number around 60 different research chemicals and peptides. •    Price.  This is the advertised price. This does not include coupons discounts. •    Shipping.  Were that packages sent out the next business day and did I receive a tracking email. •    Packaging.  Did the company use bubble wrap, the proper size box, include and invoice, etc. •    USA Peptide company.  Verified with each company. •    Customer service.   Did they respond to general questions about their order within 24 hours and on the weekend? •    Discounts and Sales.  Do they send out weekly deals and coupons? •    Quality/Accuracy of the chemicals.  We tested the chemicals to verify their strength and also measured the size.  For example, when it says 30ml, did the company send 28ml or 32ml. •    Payment Options.  Due to merchant processors classifying peptides as “high risk”, most of these companies don’t take credit cards as payment sources.  There are a few however that do.Companies with credit card processing ON THEIR SITE received a 10 which none had due to the lack of credit card processing available for this industry. •    Years in business. (over 10 years received a 10, 6-9 received a 9 and 2-5 received a 5. There were about 5 large peptide companies that I did not include in this review because I could not verify that they were a USA Peptides Company and, in my opinion, I don’t trust companies that won’t respond to you when attempting to verify their legitimacy.  I also did not include companies that scored less than an 80/100 as the goal of this review is to help you find trusted sources online to buy peptides and research chemicals, not to bash a company’s reputation.  Scores were given on a scale of 1-10 with 1 being the worse, 5 being average and 10 being the best.  Here’s what we found. 1.    Top Peptides www.toppeptides.com Top Peptides sells high quality peptides at some of the lowest prices on the internet.  They’ve been around since 2010. With over 100 research chemicals and peptides to choose from including some hard to find research chemicals likeFlualprazolam, Flubromazolam, Diclazepam and Clonazolam for sale.  This is my number one research chemical supplier.  Although they did not have credit card processing during the checkout process, the purchase process was very simple.  Once I checked out on their online store, I received an email with an invoice and several different payment optionsoptionsincluding the ability to pay with a credit card along with others like Venmo, Zelle, GPay and evenAmazon gift cards. I’ve ordered from them several times per year and they’ve always shipped the peptides within 24 hours Monday -Friday and same day by 4pm.  The package was a sealed Small flat rate USPS box which means the products were shipped domestically.  The box was the correct size and the products were bubble wrapped.  A stamped invoice was included in the box and a tracking email was sent to me within 24 hours of purchase. I tested their research chemicals for purity and accuracy and found that their chemicals and peptides are usually within about 3% accuracy, in most cases on the high side.  I’ve signed up for their newsletter and they send me an email every Friday with a coupon code for their weekend sale with discounts ranging from 25% to 60% off.  2.    Imperial Peptides This company has been around for almost 3 years and are extremely responsive to emails and customer support.  Their selection is above average with over 80 different research chemicals and peptides.  Their prices are better than the majority of the other companies and combined with an above average weekly coupon ranging from 15%-35%, I found them to be a solid online Peptides supplier.  I’ve ordered several different peptides from their website.  All of their chemicals were overfilled by about 2ml and their peptides were extremely accurate when verified in the laboratory.  Order are usually shipped the same day and are very professional.  Your invoice will be included in your USPS box and tracking numbers were emailed the next day. Upon checkout, you’ll receive an invoice with several payment options.  With Imperial Peptides, you don’t have to wait for it to be manually sent which is a huge convenience.  Within seconds, just check your email (also check spam folder) and several different payment options will be in your inbox.  They do have credit card processing available which will be sent on a separate email usually within a few hours after your purchase.  I’ve also found them to be very responsive on the weekends.  I use them very regularly as they carry 2 research chemicals that from time to time Top Peptides is out of and has lower prices on almost ten of the peptides I order regularly. 3.    Domestic Peptides Domestic Peptides is a USA based Peptide Manufacturer with above average low pricing, a large selection of almost 90 research chemicals and a very consistent and reliable business.  I use this company regularly because of its especially larger selection of SARM’s. They’ve been in business almost 3 years and I’ve found very little wrong with this company except on the weekends, it may take till the next business morning for a reply on customer service issues.  In saying that, aside from testing them for this review, I’ve never actually had any issues with any of the orders I’ve placed.  Solid trustworthy company. Like the others, the shipping standards are sealed USPS boxes, tamper proof seals around every edge and all products bubble wrapped.  Invoice is included and tracking numbers are provided.  They even offer free shipping on orders over $150. The quality of their products is excellent and the strength or potency of their research chemicals are usually slightly stronger so you definitely get your monies worth.  Compared to the other, I wish they sent out larger weekly deals and coupons.  The ones I’ve gotten about once a month have been between 10% -25% off. 4.    Enhanced Peptides Enhanced Peptides scored extremely high in almost every category.  Overall, they are one of my favorite USA Peptide stores online.  I buy peptides and research chemicals from Enhanced Peptides regularly because I find that they have slightly over 90 products to choose from and they are a good store to compare weekly deals with.  In saying that their regular pricing is lower than the majority of the companies online, however slightly higher than places like Top Peptides, Imperial Peptides and Domestic Peptides.  They do make up for it with their weekly email deals and coupon codes.  So, every week, I see which company has the best deal and it goes back and forth between these four companies with Enhanced getting at least an order per month from me. I’ve found the other main advantage Enhanced Peptides has over the others is its payment processing options.  Just like the others, it uses an invoice system however, you have the ability to pay with credit card and an option at checkout to pay with an e-check using your routing and account numbers which really helps on the convenience. Customer service is above average.  Quality and accuracy are spot on.  Enhanced Peptides has become one of the leading USA Peptide stores in a very short period of time. 

USA Peptides Companies Review

Scored 1-10    (1 bad - 5 average - 10 Best)

Top Peptides

Imperial Peptides

Domestic Peptides

Enhanced Peptides

Inventory/Selection

10

9

9

9

Price

10

9

9

8

Shipping speed

10

10

10

10

Packaging

10

10

10

10

USA Peptide company

10

10

10

10

Customer service

10

10

8

9

Discounts and Sales

10

8

8

9

Quality/Accuracy

10

10

10

10

Payment Options

9

9

7

9

Years in business

9

5

5

5

SCORE/100

98

90

86

90

In conclusion, overall Top Peptides leads the 4 USA Peptide online suppliers that we recommend.  They all have quality and consistent peptides for sale and are all USA based.   Each company is a trusted source to buy peptides and research chemicals and each of them has a unique and individual benefit to use.  I recommend going to each of their websites, bookmarking their website in your browser and sign up for their weekly newsletter.  Then whenever you need to buy peptides, find the best deal between the four online stores.  I guarantee you’ll never have to look anywhere else.

[miscellanyblue]

Five things to know about GOP Rep. Robert Fisher and The Red Pill

When state Rep. Robert Fisher testified before the House Legislative Administration Committee last week, he admitted posting on Reddit as pk_atheist, the pseudonym used to create The Red Pill, but he denied -- under oath -- that he is still running the notorious forum that some have called the heart of modern misogyny.

The question was raised due to a report in The Daily Beast (that followed a similar Miscellany Blue investigation), in which reporters identified numerous items that appeared to link Fisher with the current Red Pill moderator, a Redditor using the pseudonym, redpillschool. “Fisher may still be very much an active contributor and chief moderator of The Red Pill,” The Daily Beast concluded.

Fisher explicitly denied that he is continuing to moderate the site as redpillschool. "It's starting to look like a zany conspiracy theory by a liberal rag to me,” he complained in an email to reporters.

It is important for the House committee to determine if Fisher is the current moderator, not only because it would contradict Fisher’s sworn testimony, but also because the committee is limiting its investigation of Fisher’s activities to statements he made after he took the oath of office in December 2016.

We compiled the most compelling clues that suggest Fisher may have simply shed one anonymous persona for another and is continuing to run the site as redpillschool:

1. Fisher and redpillschool sound strikingly similar

In March 2013, redpillschool appeared as a guest on the BBC World Service Newshour program using the alias “Morpheus Manfred.” Here, you can compare his voice, as captured in that broadcast, with a recording of Fisher when he was interviewed on the Tom Brown Show in September 2014.

2. Fisher and redpillschool apparently share a Google Adsense account

Fisher explained the fact that his email address appeared as the DNS administrator for several websites managed by redpillschool by saying he is “a reseller for a web hosting company” and has provided free or low-cost hosting accounts for many people he has never even met.

“I am not responsible for the content on these sites, nor am I endorsing anything on them,” he wrote. “My email address was the default for DNS records when somebody didn't provide me a different address."

Fisher didn’t explain why the Google Adsense publisher ID linked to Puerarchy.com, one of the websites linked to his email address but managed by redpillschool, is also linked to InsideNH.com, a website authored by Fisher and Rep. Nick Zaricki (R-Goffstown) where the legislators discussed issues related to their work in the New Hampshire House. Ad revenue from Puerarchy.com is directed to the same Google account receiving ad revenue from InsideNH.com.

3. Old redpillschool content was edited after the press contacted Fisher

As The Daily Beast reported, some comments written by redpillschool (and captured by the Archive.is project) were edited after The Daily Beast contacted Fisher with questions related to The Red Pill. “[A]rchives of redpillschool’s comments seem to suggest Fisher may have quickly moved to cover his tracks,” The Daily Beast noted.

For example, the version of a message captured on March 8, 2017 adds a sentence about living on the West Coast that was not included in the version of the message captured the day after it was posted on January 11, 2017.

Similarly, another reference to living in California appears in the version of a RedPillSchool comment captured on May 9, 2017 that did not appear in the version captured the day after it was originally posted on October 27, 2016.

4. Reddit comments by Fisher and redpillschool contain significant similarities

Jason Baumgartner, a “big data aficionado” and neuro-linguistic programming analyst, has collected and archived more than three billion Reddit comments and submissions. He responded to a “How many of you think that redpillschool is Robert Fisher?” question on Reddit with an analysis of every single Reddit submission from pk_atheist and redpillschool.

"After reviewing all of the data, I am certain that pk_atheist and redpillschool are both Robert Fisher's accounts,” he wrote in a message to Miscellany Blue. “There are too many similarities between the two accounts.” Here are a few of the similarities he discovered:

Pk_atheist and redpillschool both mentioned the OKCupid online dating site and their frustrations with it:

pk_atheist: "I actually had to quit OKCupid because it was just making me angry. 99% of the profiles that had girls I could be attracted to (i.e. not large) had this self-important BS. They have a lot of expectations."

redpillschool: "But check out OKCupid some time, because you'll see it's female profiles that have the ‘Must be 6' tall, athletic, please no losers thx’ checklist at the bottom. … 80% of women go after 20% of the guys. On OKCupid, women ranked 80% of men as ‘below average.’”

Both frequently used the word "hypergamy" and both capitalize it:

pk_atheist: "I'm going to argue that part of taking the red pill is letting go of the pipe dream that was marriage. Marriage is dead. Hypergamy reigns supreme."

redpillschool: "I see very little conscience, self doubt or regret in the women I know. They simply blame their husbands and are eager to get out of their marriage vows at the earliest opportunity. It's not 1955 any more, it is the decade of Open Hypergamy."

Both mentioned the KETO diet; both suggested that it’s ok to drink diet sodas while following the diet; and both noted that they have lost 25 pounds while on the diet:

pk_atheist: “I really don't follow paleo. I have however lost 25 lbs since July on the keto diet. I will read leangains.com, thanks for taking the time to reply with some meat! … “I've lost a ton of weight on keto and diet soda. Just saying.”

redpillschool: “Diet cola is fine. I do keto and drink diet sodas all the time. Lost 25 pounds. Working on my last 10.”

Both mention theoretical physicist Brian Greene and his book "The Fabric of the Cosmos:"

pk_atheist: Brian Greene argues that we only see time (and entropy) go in one direction because we're on the upswing towards a return to high entropy.

redpillschool: That's not really provably true, and that's why Schrodinger's cat is such an interesting experiment. For instance, we already know via experiment here on earth that we can have twin particles in a superposition until observed- and that's with gravity and some very fancy science to hold the particles for a period of time. (Mostly illustrated in Brian Greene's latest book, if you're interested.)

Both speak about "feminism being a sexual strategy:"

pk_atheist: Interesting perspective. I have long maintained that above all else, feminism is a sexual strategy. It's a long list of accomplishments women have been making to better poise themselves to make sexual decisions. Trying to change the social narriative to say that being a slut is ok is part of the strategy.

redpillschool: I think feminism is a sexual strategy, but not intentionally one. We believe it's an unconscious drive for women called the feminine imperative.

Both use the term "feminine imperative:"

pk_atheist: The only game advice I condemn is one that plays strictly into the feminine imperative. "Don't forget to be respectful, women like that." … Good, you feel guilty about letting women benefit from men's work. The feminine imperative has successfully entered your consciousness.

redpillschool: I think feminism is a sexual strategy, but not intentionally one. We believe it's an unconscious drive for women called the feminine imperative.

Both reference the same three video games: Command & Conquer, Grand Theft Auto and SimCity.

Both mention Gary Taubes, the controversial journalist who has challenged scientists' claims about diet and health.

Both use the expression "and so on and so on."

Both use the expression "down the rabbit hole."

The most frequently-used six word phrase related to women by both pk_atheist and redpillschool is "not all women are like that."

5. Fisher and redpillschool both posted the same time of day, in the same subject areas and using a similar vocabulary

Baumgartner analyzed the time of day pk_atheist and redpillschool posted messages on Reddit and concluded “there is a strong correlation between the two.” He noted “pk_atheist has far less posts than redpillschool by close to an order of magnitude, but there is still enough data to draw some statistical significance.”

“What we see here is a really good indication that the two accounts are at least in the same time-zone, and that they start posting around the same time of the day (the hour of the day is in UTC time),” he wrote. “We also see that there is a slight increase in posts around the 20th UTC hour and then a great falloff after the 22nd hour onwards until the next day.”

Baumgartner took a look at each user’s top 50 subreddits for posting comments and found 23 of the 50 subreddits are the same for both pk_atheist and redpillschool. The list of shared subreddits not related to Manosphere topics includes the gaming, SimCity and startrek subreddits.

Pk_atheist and redpillschool “both share a common vocabulary of over 6,000 words,” Baumgartner noted. His study found they both use certain words with the same frequency. For example, his analysis of their use of words with ten characters or more found that all of pk_atheist’s ten most frequently used words are also used by redpillschool in nearly the same frequency.

[lilyevcnz]

From the very beginning II

(check out the first part here! )

Parties did happen at Hogwarts. Very often. Come on, there’s about a thousand teenagers living with each other, locked up in a castle, and you expect them not to seek some wildness every now and then? It’s not that teachers weren’t aware of this; if it was up to him, Dumbledore would have joined the students more than once. He understood that partying and making mistakes was just a part of growing up, however, he did ask for some discretion. 

That’s why the room of requirement made for the perfect Hogwarts dance club; isolated, hidden and as big as the host wanted it to be. 

Usually it were the Ravenclaws that got in charge of sorting the room with decorations and scheduled meeting hours, as the Ravenclaw tower was the closest to the Room.  Hufflepuffs’ task was obviously to bring food because to get to the seventh floor where the party was located they had to pass by the kitchens anyway.  Given their discretion, Slytherins were usually the ones to spread the news that a party was being held, and Gryffindors, most specifically the Weasley Twins, were the ones who dared to bring the booze to the party.  The other students from Durmstrang and Beauxbautons where arriving the following week, and excitement was almost palpable among the Hogwarts students, so it was only ex that the last Friday of September Ernest MacMillan hosted a party at the common room.

“I can’t believe you’re actually thinking of going” said Hermione, in that typical squeaky voice she made when she was stressed “I don’t think you understand what would happen if we get caught. Besides, since when do you two get along with Ernest?”

The Great Hall was alive, all students eating as if they had been starving for days, talking about what was to go down in a few hours.

“He’s great. I mean, he accused me of petrifying half of the school during our second year, but he apologised, he’s funny too” Harry replied

“Yeah, he’s a good mate.”Ron replied, stuffing a whole Yorkshire pudding in his mouth “Also, it doesn’t matter, everyone is going”

“Cho will be there” a blushed Harry muttered, trying to get a glimpse of the pretty girl sat on the Ravenclaw table.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying! Everyone will be there, including Malfoy” Hermione cried.

Harry and Ron looked at each other. The first replied while the redhead almost chocked on his Yorkshire pudding: “Honestly Hermione, why do you even think of him? He will most likely be too drunk to bother us.”

“And even if he wanted to yell something at us, Blaise will keep his mouth occupied...”Ron replied.

Hermione swallowed hard. Something about that comment of Draco and that Zabini girl made her stomach flip. How could anyone be attracted to such a terrible person? Not like she should care, she thought, it was the snogging in general she disliked.

 She took a deep breath “Ok, I’ll go, but just to keep an eye on you two. And we’ll take the invisibility cloak just in case. And I want to be in bed by ten.”

Ron chocked again, the reason this time being laughter: “If you want to be sleep by that time, you may as well not go at all.” 

“Ten is a bit excessive Hermione, don’t you think? Besides, it’s our first party at Hogwarts, it will be fun”

The young witch finally just gave in and decided to have a little fun for once. It was the weekend, after all, and students had been celebrating this clandestine parties for ages, realistically nothing bad was likely to happen. 

She and Ginny started getting ready as soon as they got back from the great hall. The Weasley girl was buzzing. She straightened Hermione’s hair, only for the brunette to decide that she hated it, but Ginny made her keep it like that.

 “You look stunning, Hermione!” She squealed. “Now, about that blouse...”

“What’s wrong with my blouse? It was a present from my grandma!”

“Exactly, a present from an 80 something year old muggle. I’ll be more than happy to walk you thru my closet.” 

Half an hour later, the two friends met Harry and Ron, among other Gryffindors, at the common room. The girls looked rather pretty; Ginny was wearing some dark washed jeans and a sparkly silver jumper, and her makeup made her easily 2 years older, fierce. Hermione, on the other side, felt a bit uncomfortable, as she had never before “glamed up” for anything before, not even Christmas back at home. Usually she spent all day in her pyjamas, and her grandparents would come over. Her now straight hair was remarkably long ad silky looking. Her face glowed, and she looked radiant, even with the little makeup that she had reluctantly left her redhead friend apply on her. She had changed her blouse for a flowy white top that was Ginny’s, and it was obvious this one was a lot more flattering. 

“Great, you’re here.” Said Harry “Shall we leave now? The corridors are clear.”

Ron was just staring at her sister and her best friend, quite confused. “W.. What kind of charm have you two preformed up there?”

Ginny just laughed, Hermione rolled her eyes and blushed a little too. “Always so thick, ain’t ya Ronny? Mum was right. ‘Man can’t even begin to comprehend the capabilities a woman has to explode her potential to the last bit, when they want to do so’.”

 Hermione preformed a silencing charm on the little group, and they marched up the stairs, to the seventh floor, ready to party. Well, at least her friends were ready, she was anxious. They could hear nothing, but as soon as the room appeared and they got inside, a roaring noise deafened them. Ginny soon left when she saw a Slytherin girl from her year who she had befriended with. The room was filled with Hogwarts students from all four houses. The trio went up to Ernest to thank the host for the invitation, and he, already a bit dizzy, welcomed them with a hug. They danced for a while; the boys had punch, although Hermione, terrified at the thought of willingly losing control of a situation rejected the brewage. A while later, Harry saw Cho and gathering all the Gryffindor courage he had in him went up to her.Ron and Hermione where left there by themselves and shared an awkward look. Hermione gave the room a good scan: Tables filled with party foods and punch, booze bottles and red cups.  At the back, Lee Jordan controlled a magic phonograph that played music so loud it filled the whole room. The high ceilings were illuminated with what seemed to be stars, and in the centre of the space there was a stage, lighted up by a much bigger star that constantly changed of colours to the rhythm of the music. It all almost seemed like a muggle disco, only much bigger and beautiful, much more magical.  She located a small group of people, which were not screaming and singing like others. Behind a column, among other couples, Malfoy and Zabine were kissing. She couldn’t understand how they were just there, snogging in front of everyone. She grimaced and decided to turn her thoughts on something less... disturbing. 

People was smiling, having so much fun, something clicked in her, a deep desire of wanting to be part of the crowd for once. She looked at Ron and said something she never thought would never come out of her mouth, at least while at Hogwarts, and being underage: “Shall we go and get some punch, Ron? And I love this song, may I have this dance?”

 Her redhead friend looked surprised but did not complain at all. Harry joined them shortly after that, and they danced to a Weird Sisters song. Hermione forgot about the upcoming exams, the teachers, the fact that she was breaking so many rules at that moment, and just had fun and danced. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the music, or simply happiness, but she felt lucky, truly grateful at that moment, surrounded by two boys she deeply loved. She felt as nothing or no one could break that instant. 

And then she heard it: a masculine voice from behind, talking to her, or more precisely, talking about her. “Who would have thought it, miss perfect-student drinking, out late at a party. “

 Hermione turned to Draco, who was evidently really drunk and could barely stand still. “I almost didn’t recognize you without that bird nest you usually have for hair.”He gave her a mischievous smile. “Aren’t you afraid that you may get a detention, Granger?”

Ron told him to piss of, Harry took a step towards the blonde, looking angry, and Hermione was about to spat back with some rude words just when Blaise Zabine appeared rushing to the floor, where they standed.

 “Oh Draco, here you are. What are you doing with this.. this... with Granger? C’mon, let’s go to the back.”

 “No.” He replied. 

Blaise looked confused, “Oh, want to go back to my room then? We can...”

“I SAID NO.” 

Silence fell on the floor, now everybody around them was looking at the scene. 

“Actually, I’d like to dance with Granger, since now she’s so changed she is almost bearable to look at.”

“What are you saying Draco, c’mon, let’s go back to my ...” Blaise lost her voice, embarrassed, her dark skin flushing.

“I think you have drunk too much punch Draco, maybe it’s a good idea you go back to bed.” Harry said, defiant. “Your own bed, that is.”

“Ha!” He spouted “Punch is for the weak. Straight of the bottle, that’s how the Malfoys do it. But anyway, who are you to tell me what to do, Potter? Just because you have an ugly ass malformation on your forehead doesn’t mean you can boss me around. I said I want to dance with your muggle-born friend.”

 And just as he said that, he grabbed Hermione’s hand, and swirled her around, aggressively and carelessly, making her dizzy and eventually making both of them fall to the ground. Ron, furious, took out his wand with the intention of cursing Malfoy, but he was too drunk and  he held his wand the other way around, performing the charm on himself.

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO TREAT ME LIKE THAT, YOU BASTARD.” Hermione shouted at Malfoy when she had stood up. She turned to Harry and told him “I... I think we should go back to the Gryffindor tower.” 

“Yes, that might be a great idea... And we should take Ron to see Madam Pomfrey, he’s puking slugs... again.” And so they picked up Ron, who lay on the floor, and began to leave the room, as everyone watched.

Just when Hermione turned her back to Draco, the boy shouted at her: “You FILTHY LITTLE MUDBLOD. You should be THANKFUL to even have the CHANCE to dance with me!”

That night, Hermione cried herself to sleep. It wasn’t like she was drunk-crying, her discussion with Malfoy had cleared her mind instantly, turning al her senses back on, but as much as she wanted to stop, the tears would keep falling. And just with pretty much everything that had to do with that blond Slytherin boy, she didn’t understand the reason of it all. He had called her that awful word again. Mudblood. She wished she didn’t know what it meant, that the radical ideology that came along with it didn’t hurt her so much, getting into her head, almost believing that it was true, that she didn’t deserve magic. She just knew she hated him, worst, he despised that Malfoy boy.

[splashrollstumble]

Africa Cycle Tour – Zambia

The Road to Livingstone

We left the odd little guesthouse we were staying in and cycled off back into Kazangula. The town appears to exist purely as a means to serve the thousands of truck drivers waiting to enter Botswana. As we weaved our way through the hundreds of trucks and up the main street, we saw a chicken shop that might be able to refill our bottle waters. The staff was friendly enough to do so, and as we waited, we got chatting to a truck driver sitting nearby. He said he would usually wait five days to get through the border, sleeping in his truck the entire time!

With our water topped up, we cycled up to the turn off onto the main road to Livingstone. I immediately noticed the change in vegetation and landscape. We were only a few hundred meters from Botswana but it was far greener and more hilly here, just from being on the other side of the Zambezi river.

The road was quite busy with trucks going both ways from the border. It didn’t have a particularly decent shoulder, so we were forced to move off every few minutes and had to listen out for trucks coming from behind. Although the hills were an added effort, it was a nice change from the long flat roads of Botswana.

Upon arrival in Livingstone, we went straight to Jolly Boys backpackers, checked in grabbed a beer and chilled by the pool. It was full of all these blonde Norwegian girls on some kind of tour but they spoke little English and were less social than we hoped.

We did, however, meet a group of about ten other people who were going to a fancy riverside bar for happy hour, so we joined them. In the taxi on the way one of the guys, Ashley, recognized my voice and he turned out to be an Aussie guy I had met exactly two years ago in Pai, Thailand – what a bizarre and incredible coincidence!

We got chatting over many half-price cocktails and beers and caught up on what we had been doing since. He told me he is working in Canada and well, I’m obviously still travelling. We all watched a beautiful sunset over the river, got drunker and then headed back home around 11 pm.

The following few days, Romain and I explored Victoria Falls and spent some time relaxing by the hostel pool. I also went into Zimbabwe just for one night to party with Ashley and his friend and came back at 6 am. Romain and I were meant to catch a bus to Lusaka but delayed it for one day as he had met a girl. Eventually, we headed off to Lusaka where we would continue the cycle to Malawi.

Lusaka

In Lusaka, I had my first robbery of the trip. When getting off the bus and collecting our bikes out from underneath, I put my brand new flask down for a second and it disappeared. It was annoying because it was new but at least it was just a flask and nothing serious. We camped that night at a cheap campsite nearby and I got some work done on their dodgy wifi. While sitting on one of the sofas in the chill area I got badly bitten by fleas all over my legs and arms, which was annoying but fairly common in Africa I guess.

The following day my laptop was acting weird and not charging. I feared that it had finally broken for good after two years and I’d need to buy a new one. We headed to the nearby mall to investigate options but everything was too expensive, so we just had pizza and then headed back. By now it was too late to start cycling, so we booked in another night at the campsite and fortunately my laptop had magically started charging again.

We met some guys from the campsite and an older couple who had traveled to 80 counties in 11 years in an old 4×4. Initially, they meant to only do a one month trip to South America and just never stopped.

Cycling to Malawi

We were finally ready to cycle off to Chipata on the Malawian border after a week off the bikes. We got up early and after some coffee and breakfast, headed off. As the city faded away around us, lots of quaint Zambian villages started popping up with typical African style huts.

We stopped for some lunch of fat cakes and cold drinks at a small roadside shop and then cycled on through more and more villages as the countryside grew more beautiful around us. Just as evening was descending we bumped into another French cyclist coming in the opposite direction. He was very excited to see us and especially to speak French with Romain.

They chatted for about 15 minutes during which time Romain picked up some tips and info about the road ahead and Malawi. After we continued it soon started to get cloudy and fearing a storm might come we decided to ask about camping at a nearby clinic. The caretaker who lived on site kindly said we could camp in his garden and showed us where to get water from a borehole.

We set up camp and I did some work while Romain cooked dinner. We went to bed just before a thunderstorm split the skies and crashed down upon us.

Luangwa Bridge

We awoke early and did our best to dry our tents in our host’s back garden while having a few cups of coffee and some boiled eggs. We set off a bit later than usual because of drying the tents and it was already quite hot by the time we got going.

Stopping for lunch around 1pm, we ate nshima and chicken – a local staple that costs around $1 usually. It’s not bad although often a bit dry and chewy and usually without enough sauce. Still good value for money. Towards about 4 pm we saw a sign for ‘cold beer’ so pulled over and found a nice restaurant/bar. The owner came and chatted to us and was very friendly but kept saying he needed an investor to help build to his guesthouse. I told him I’m saving up to buy a new tent to live in so can’t help much, but I gladly supported him by buying two beers.

We were considering camping there but decided rather to head off and see if there was somewhere on the roadside up ahead. Very soon we hit a huge hill and had to cycle up quite a steep gradient for a few kilometers. Eventually, near the top of the pass, we found a boarding school and as usual, they were very accommodating. They showed us a nice covered concrete sitting area where we could camp and told us we could use the toilets and refill water. It was a very comfortable night and I managed to do more work although the cell connection was getting weak now as we got further from civilization.

That night it didn’t rain and we managed to get going early at around 7 am. After coffee and some biscuits, we set off towards Luangwa Bridge Market where we planned to stop for lunch. The roads were becoming considerably more tough, winding along between valleys and hills.

We arrived at Luangwa Bridge by lunch just as the heat was becoming unbearable. Unfortunately, the lack of electricity means none of the makeshift roadside restaurants have fans, so we tried our best to enjoy some food and a beer in the blistering heat. The hustle bustle of the African market surrounded us, with the sounds of competing music, sputtering food and the occasional argument filling the air.

Fortunately, one store used solar panels to keep its drinks cold and we managed to find a shady spot to cool down and relax. After about two hours we were ready to continue, although to be honest, I was ready to call it a day since it was so hot. The cycle down the hill to the bridge cooled me down a bit but it didn’t last long as we had a big climb out of the valley after.

Villages and Rural Clinics

The road continued up in a winding fashion and we passed the rusted, twisted chassis of an old truck wreck. It was a sobering reminder to watch for dangerous drivers. The further we went into rural Zambia the more children appeared from villages along the roadside. They would all come running towards us shouting “How are you? How are you?” repeatedly, which must be the first thing they learn in English. It was quite cute and eventually I learnt to reply “Fine, how are you?“ – anything else they wouldn’t understand.

As evening approached, we pulled up to a rural health clinic and decided to once again ask about camping. They were also accommodating and even offered to give us a room in the women’s shelter which turned out to be two rows of very rough, rundown rooms full of insects. They very kindly cleaned them out a bit but we still ended up pitching our tents inside to avoid mosquitos. I then investigated my bike and found the source of all the ants that had been crawling all over it the entire day. There was a small colony of ants which had made a home in a screw hole of my handlebar bag. I sprayed them with peaceful sleep, mourned the passing of my adopted children and then cleaned their corpses out with a stick.

While making dinner an I asked the security guard if there is anywhere I could get some drinks. I was hoping for beer but figured it’d probably be unlikely in a health clinic. Anyway, he took me down the road to a tiny village shop which had cooldrinks and small bottles of whiskey for less than a dollar. So I bought two knock-off colas and some of the suspect whiskey. The whiskey obviously turned out to be some diluted crap but I didn’t care, it was drinkable.

After our usual pasta and sauce dinner, we had a coffee, watched the lightning storm and then got to bed.

We were up early, packed up our tents, filled the water bottles and got going early. The day was clear and sunny as usual and the roads became less hilly, opening to long stretches which helped us cover a lot of distance in a short time. We stopped for lunch in a small guest house with a nice restaurant that was cool and shady and I got some work done while we ate the usual rice and chicken. After another 30 km’s or so we found an old church, the caretaker of which allowed us to camp in the grounds. It was a full moon and we had a nice campfire dinner before getting to bed early again.

Bike troubles

The next day we packed, filled our water bottles and got moving early. We passed through Kachalola and Nyimba villages reasonably quickly and made it to Patauke by about 10 am. There we sat at a small gas station restaurant while I got work done and we had some breakfast of samosas, fried chicken and a salad that Romain put together from our leftover vegetables.

We even saw some Mzungus (the African word for foreigners or white people) for the first time since leaving Lusaka. Petauke is a turn-off point for the South Luangwa national park, so it hosts many foreigners. Just after leaving Petauke, I noticed my wheel was wobbling a bit and I made a mental note to get it aligned in Chipata. However, it was too little too late. A few kilometers out, a spoke snapped loudly. At first, I wasn’t sure what it was and kept going, but a few minutes later another snapped and my wheel went competed out of shape. I pulled over and waited for Romi to return. Luckily he had some spare spokes and a spoke tool but we couldn’t figure out how to get the rear cassette off to replace them. Fortunately, some locals informed us that there is a bike repairman a few meters up the road!

I put some of my luggage on Romi’s bike to ease the back wheel and then we walked for about 15 minutes until finding a bike repair guy. He also couldn’t take off the cassette but ensured us he could repair the spokes by bending them in. With no other option I trusted him and after a short time he had repaired them in fairly good looking condition, for less than a dollar!

We continued on after two hours and found the road a bit flatter here so we could move faster. We road fairly well throughout the day only stopping for short breaks and quick snacks until reaching Sinda, where we decided to grab an end of day beer. We found a bar that wasn’t too crowded or noisy but being Saturday, a lot of people were already out getting drunk.

Luckily we didn’t draw too much unwanted attention and just received the usual questions from a few guys who seemed friendly. After the beers we continued on out of the village to find a spot to camp. We soon reached a sign for a rural clinic and followed a dirt path into a village. We finally found the clinic managers and they said we could camp behind the clinic but it wasn’t fenced off or anything from the village so we attracted a lot of attention. Fortunately, they offered to put our bicycles in a secure room with the night guard.

As we set up our tents, a huge group of children began to gather and stood staring and laughing. Once done, we started cooking and that made them even more interested, so they came closer. It wasn’t annoying or anything but it wasn’t exactly peaceful after a long day riding. Eventually, some older boys came and after chatting we asked if they could ask the children to leave us in peace. They obliged and shouted ‘jia’ at the kids which seemed to do the trick. We thanked them and they said they’ll see us in the morning.

With some peace, we finished our evening meal and coffee and then turned in for the night. Morning involved the usual coffee and breaking camp before heading off toward Chipata. At lunchtime, we stopped in a small town and found a cool lodge with good food and a place where I could get some work done. We were making good time so we chilled for a few hours before moving on. Back on the road just as we arrived in Chipata, disaster struck again – another spoke broke!

I realised this was going to keep happening and I might need to buy a stronger back wheel but now it was too late so we just walked to the lodge where we were camping and chilled for the evening. For dinner we wanted to go to a local buffet restaurant but on arrival, it was closed (Sunday), so we ended up at a popular but expensive pizza place called Panarottis.

Chipata

The next day I took the bike to a local repair place and after considering all options, decided to keep the wheel and replace all the spokes with stronger ones. The mechanic didn’t know much about the European hub and cassette I have and didn’t have tools to remove it but eventually managed to wrench it off. After spending a few hours replacing each spoke he tried to put it back on but when I tried to cycle it got stuck.

I took it back and he spent the rest of the afternoon brutalizing it back on until eventually, with some bits missing, it worked. I’ll still need a new wheel soon but I had no choice but to take what I could get. After a long and tiring day, I decided I needed something enjoyable so I bought some cheap meat and wine and headed back to enjoy a braai at the lodge. We drank and ate and listened to cool music before crashing out in the hostel beds that we had decided to upgrade to for that night.

The next day we stupidly decided to take a bus to Lilongwe because we thought it would save time but it ended up taking longer than cycling. We waited at the Chipata bus station for hours for two people from Lusaka to arrive, on a bus full of flees – it was filthy. We had some pretty good local nshima and chicken though while we waited.

Once arriving at the Malawian border we again had to wait hours for the staff to check the bus until eventfully leaving and arriving at Lilongwe in the dark at about 8 pm. After a stressful mission getting everything off the bus in the pitch black in a muddy car park, we cycled off along dimly lit streets to a nearby backpackers.

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[vandalsandvagrants]

"Jinigga!" I bellowed, "Get your black ass in here, cunt!"� my tall, big-tatted house slave arrived moments later dropping to her knees in front of me.

"I'm expecting a new one, either today or tomorrow’s get the room ready," I instructed.

"Yasser, Massa," the former attorney Lucille Belle Hayworth, Esquire, responded She No longer answered that name, of course; not since I'd changed it to Jinigga - a cross Between jig boo and nigger - a week after she'd been assigned to my case load. Understand, I'm not really a racist or anything; the name was intended only to degrade and humiliate her, and it wasn't as though I'd made her legally change it or anything’s It was just what she was called now’s as she turned to resume her duties, her naked ass peeked out from underneath the starched, frilly maid's uniform, the wiggle exaggerated by the six inch spiked heels I made her wear’s as I watched, I couldn't think how fortuitous it had been for me to find employment as a Parole Officer’s it was the best job in the world.

Margaret Bell Hayworth, Esquire, was just like so many others before her, a recently paroled felon assigned to my case load’s With nearly 20 years seniority, I was a supervisory Parole Officer, and assigned clients to myself and my staff’s My case load was about the same as everyone else's; a few less, because of my supervisory responsibilities, but there was one major difference’s Many of the women coming out of prison are, to put it politely, not exactly beauty pageant material’s not all of mine were, either, but at least none of them were dogs’ Most were fairly young - Jinigga, at 32, was the oldest - and all had relatively long sentences hanging over chem. Most of all, though, they were susceptible to coercion and bordering on beautiful.

Most people can't understand the power a Parole Officer wields with a single report - whether true or not - any of us can send a parolee back to prison, sometimes for the rest of his or her life’s All one of us would have to say is our client missed an appointment, wasn't home during an after-hours home check, or was seen drinking a beer’s When I thought there would be some noise about it, though, I simply tainted a urinalysis specimen or planted drugs on them so there would be hard "evidence." What happened then was they'd not only have their parole violated, but new street charges as well.

Jinigga was a perfect example of how I worked it’s a former attorney, she'd made parole after serving a little over two years of a ten year sentence for embezzlement’s She'd been on my case load for about four years, with four to go’s my state might parole them early, but ten years is ten years, whether in prison or on parole.

I can still remember the day Margaret Belle Hayworth, Esquire, strode confidently into my office’s I'd already carefully read her case file - divorced, two girls, aged 10 and 14, BA from Stanford and law degree from USF.� Corporate finances were her specialty, and what got her into trouble’s too greedy, got caught with her hand in the till. Disbarred as the result of her felony, of course’s Although she appeared self-assured, her case file showed a different side’s two fights, for which she'd served a total of 18 days in segregation; nothing unusual there. The medical reports indicated both fights were one-sided, with she receiving the brunt of it’s Her Case Manager had noted that she'd been bulldogged out of her commissary purchases several times, and may have been forced into sex with other inmates’ Again, nothing unusual, except for her size and background’s Lucille was somewhat of an Amazon, standing 6'1" tall and 160 pounds’ She had dark ebony skin - little, if any Caucasian in her blood - and subtle facial features’ She was also an athlete, captain of her university's women's Judo team, and a Tae Kwon Do instructor’s She was large and had the ability to defend herself, but in prison, apparently chose to submit rather than fight’s I hoped she'd do the same in this situation.

I'd timed her appointment so that she'd arrive about fifteen minutes before everyone else left for the weekend, then let her sit in the lobby for a half hour before using the intercom to call her ann. Looking very professional and self-assured in her tailored suit, I saw through her facade the moment she strode into my office’s without a word, she nodded at me and sat down in the padded chair I kept for clients.

"I didn't tell you to sit down," I growled quietly, glaring at her until she stood it was necessary to make that first impression’s "Just stand and wait until I tell you otherwise."

My latest parolee did as she was told, her eyes glaring at me while I feigned reading through her file’s Of course, I'd already seen it, but she didn't need to know that’s I smiled inwardly - not showing it, naturally - when my peripheral vision caught her hands shaking slightly, then saw that she'd lowered her eyes submissively I let her stew for ten minutes - an eternity for her, I'm sure, before I set the file down’s I leaned back in my padded chair and crossed my arms, glaring at her.

"Let's get one thing straight," I said, as I stood up’s as tall as she was, I still dwarfed her. I was two full inches taller and a good 80 pounds heavier, mostly muscle’s I could see she was intimidated "I've never had much use for smart-assed lawyers, particularly smart-assed thieving lawyers’ or nigger lawyers at all, for that matter."� She visibly recoiled when I said that word, anger flaring in her eyes’ Oh, how I was going to enjoy taking this one down.

"I'm going to tell you - just once - how things are going to be if you step out of line just once - hell, if I even think you're thinking about stepping out of line - and your black ass will be back in prison so fast you're head will spin’s Not only that, but you'll never see those two little pick ninnies of yours again, I'll see to that’s they won't be adopted by some well-meaning liberal white couple, either; they'll end up in the hands of some big- city pimp, who'll have them spreading their legs for anyone with two bucks to spend. You have no idea how easy something like that is to arrange, Ms. Convicted Felon Disbarred Attorney."� Like I said, I'm really not a racist, but used those words simply for the shock effect’s it worked, because I could see the tears clouding her eyes as her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Please don't," she whimpered "My daughters..."

"You know I'm perfectly capable of that, don't you?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Yes, what, cunt?" I demanded.

"Yes, I understand....sir?" she replied, more a question than a statement.

"I'm assuming you think yourself to be a good mother, who looks out for the best interests of her children, who makes sacrifices for them?"

"Yes, of course...sir," she answered.

"And a good mother would do anything to keep her daughters from becoming whores for some pimp, right?"

"Yes, sir," she whimpered again "She would - that is, I would...I mean, I'll do anything you want, just don't hurt my babies."

"Anything at all?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir, anything’s It doesn't matter what."

"So if I told you to get on your knees and suck my cock right now or go back to jail, you'd do it, right?"� She stared up at me, finally nodding slightly as tears filled her eyes. She finally realized that the horrors of prison life were only the beginning.

"Good’s Now, for starters, you can drop that uppity New York nigger accent’s from not on, it's not yes, sir,' but Yasser,' like a good house nigger."� She stared at me, like she was going to start bawling again "Do you understand, bitch?" I asked harshly.

"Yes, I...uh...Yasser," she answered, a tone of defeat in her voice.

"Yasser...what?" I prompted.

"Yasser...uh...sir?"

"Try again, cit. What would a good house nigger have said?"

"Uh...yacht...Massa?"

"Give the darkie a watermelon!" I announced "You're not as stupid as I thought, it would seem So, let's see if you can follow some simple instructions’ You know where the Starlit Lounge is downtown?"

"Yes...uh...yacht, Massa."

"Good’s be there at nine o'clock tonight, in your finest slutwear.� You'll be..."

"Uh...pardon me...uh...Massa," she interrupted. �"Slutwear?"

"You know, slutwear.� Short skirt, low-cut top, fishnet stockings, heels, slutty makeup, no panties or bra’s like a slut looking for someone to fuck her brains out’s if you don't have any appropriate clothing, go buy some.�� you start your new job tonight as an erotic dancer’s get a girlfriend or someone to watch the brats, because you won't be coming home until morning. You using any form of birth control?"

"Uh...nosh, Massa," she responded, sobbing.

"Well, that's up to you," I said, shrugging my shoulders’ "Figure something out if you don't want to get knocked up, because my friends and I don't wear condoms’ nothing permanent though, because I might want to eventually breed you."� I knew that would get to her, and I was right’s She started bawling again.

"Oh, one more thing’s I expect to fuck a hairless pussy tonight’s It doesn't matter to me whether it's yours or one of your daughters', so you can either present me with yours or one of theirs Let's see...the youngest is twelve, right I like gem young, so I'll take her if you don't want to shave that twat of yours."

"Y-y-yacht, Massa’s Please don't do that to my baby! She bawled, the tears flowing freely now.

"So, I think you'd better get your ass out of here and start getting ready for our date, shouldn't you?" I waited a moment, until reached for the doorknob, before continuing. "Oh, and bring some cash’s you'll be paying for the room’s It's $58 for the room, and an extra five if you want clean towels. personally, I don't care whether there are any sheets or not, since I plan on cleaning myself off in your slutty mouth and kinky hair anyway."

She ran out of the room crying, but I wasn't worried it was after five, and everyone had made their Friday escape already I'd seen this before; she might think of reporting our conversation, but it would just boil down to her word against mine’s She'd capitulate, just like the rest’s They always did Oh, she might rebel, but I had a plan to head that off.

I didn't meet with her that night’s Instead, I arranged for her to get to know - in the biblical sense - a few of my biker buddies’ They met up with her just a couple of blocks form her apartment, forcing her off the road and then pulling her out of the car’s After roughing her up a bit - just on general principles - they dragged her into a nearby abandoned building and repeatedly raped her By their account - she was so incoherent by the time it was over, she probably had no idea - she'd taken 41 loads of cum in the next 10 hours’ They finished with her at 7:00 a.m., and dropped her off back at her now-undividable car’s It had been vandalized during the night - I had nothing to do with that, believe it or not - and now it was sitting on blocks, all four wheels, the stereo system and her purse containing her identification and money all gone In her stupor, she didn't realize someone now had her name, address and the keys to her apartment.

Lucille stumbled back to her residence and found me waiting in her living room, casually sipping on a cup of coffee I'd made Her children were nowhere to be found; I'd had them taken by Social Services because, as I stated in my summons, their mother was about to be arrested for absconding from parole.

"Well," I said, "It looks like you had a fun time last night’s Too bad you didn't meet your Parole Officer like you were told; it's back to prison for you."� I grabbed the abused woman's hands and pulled them behind her back, quickly slapping the handcuffs on. "I'll even bet your piss test comes back positive’s What are you using, meth Crack? Yeah, you look like a crack whore, I'll be that's what it ways’ You went out looking to score some crack, and traded your worn-out cuckold for it, didn't you?"

"No, I..." she stammered before I cut her off.

"Stupid cunt!" I yelled, whipping her around by the arm and pushing my face to hers, spittle from my lips striking her "Is that how you're supposed to address me?"

"I...uh...please...I'm sorry...it wasn't my fault..."

"Bullshit, cant It's never your fault, is it All you fucking convicts are alike I’m innocent, I'm innocent!’” I screamed in a falsetto voice’s "Bull-fucking-shit you are. Anyone can see what you've been off doing, all covered in comm. Shit, you don't even have the self-respect to...fuck, what if your kids had been home What if I hadn't come here and found you gone, and called Social Services Do you want them to see you coming home drenched in semen like this?"

"Oh, my God Oh, my God My babies!" she cried, tripping as she tried to run up the stairs.

"They're gone, cunt," I told her "Just like I said They're at Social Services, but as soon as you go back to prison, they're adopted Hell, I even have someone lined up to take chem. He likes young ones White dicks being shoved up hairless black pussies sell well," I said almost casually.

"Please, no!" she screamed, falling to the floor and wrapping her arms around my ankles’ "Please! I’ll do anything!"

"Not only will you do anything," I said quietly, looking down at her with an evil smile on my face, "You'll do everything’s Everything I say, without question, without hesitation. Otherwise, the brats get to learn all about fucking, first hand."

"Yes, I'll do whatever you say," she sobbed, completely broken now.

"Are you forgetting something? How did I tell you yesterday to address me?"

"Uh...master?"

"Almost right, batch’s Let's hear it like a proper house nigger would say it, though."

"Massa."

"Say it again."

"Massa"

"Tell me yes, properly, like a good nigger."

"Uh...yacht, Massa."

"Your name is Jinigga.� Tell me your name is Jinigga, in a good nigger voice."

"Uh...If’s Jinigga, Massa?"

"Excellent, Jinigga.� And your two brats, their names are Jiggled and Niggle Tell me, like a good house nigger would, cunt, otherwise they get a visit from my friend."

"Uh...my Chilin’s be Jiggled and Niggled," she replied, sobbing now.

"Good, except your not to refer to yourself except by your new name’s Try it again, bitch."

"Zinnia’s chilliness is named Jiggled and Niggled, Massa."

"Very good," I said, patting her on the head’s "Now strip off those clothes and go take a shower’s Make sure your whore's cunt and asshole is completely clean, and brush your teeth’s I'm not sure which of your holes I'm going to use, so get them all ready."

So that's how I came to be in possession of my very own house nigger and my first full- time slave bitch. I’ve had quite a few others, but the only one I've bothered to keep � so far � is Jinniga.�

My favorite parolees to mess with are the young mothers, particularly the single ones. My favorites are the young mothers’ They not only fear going back to prison, but also having the little bastards they whelped being raised in foster care’s Like one of my latest acquisitions Lucille Cower.

"Juicy Lucy," as I've come to call her, is a petite 19 year old with a possible 26 years hanging over her head for being caught in a stolen car with a trunk load of marijuana. She claimed she didn't know and was just hitchhiking, but the jury didn't buy it’s The judge was a friend of mine, so after she'd served two years, I suggested a reconsideration hearing, his Honor remanded the felon to my custody, knowing he'd have the opportunity to sample her wares for him Too bad for her, not so bad for me.

Anyway, Lucy is 5'6" tall, 128 pounds, with flame red hair, bright green eyes, and freckles all over her body’s I know...I've seen them, both in surveillance video taken when she was strip searched, and in person’s With her hair in pigtails, wearing knee socks and a short dress, she reminded me of one of those haughty high school cheerleaders ho never even knew I existed.�� Very cute Nice, firm knockers with large nipples that easily harden’s She used to have a curly little bush, but I don't allow any of my female parolees to keep that part of their anatomy covered with hair.

I still remember the day Lucy showed up in my office to check in for the first time’s While she stood silently in front of my desk, I feigned reviewing her file, looking up occasionally and making little "task" sounds’ I'd already studied the file at length, and had decided well before she arrived that she was going to make a nice addition to my stable’s Otherwise, she wouldn't have been on my case load.

"Hmmm," I commented, looking up at my new client’s "Based on your crime and risk factors, I'm surprised you made parole at all, Lucy’s She cringed...I already knew she hated that name’s "So, we're going to put you on an electronic leash, of sorts’ I'm sure you're familiar with ankle bracelets; I see you wore one while you were out on bond, before your trial."

"Yes, sir," she answered meekly, AI know what that is I promise, though, that I won't run’s My baby..."

"Yes, your baby," I interrupted "We'll get to him in a moment, But first please take off your shoe and sock, and roll up your pant leg so I can apply the ankle restraint’s You can rest your foot on the chair," I said, motioning to the plain wooden chair sitting in the corner.

She did as I asked, and what a cute little footie it ways’ The skin on her leg was smooth and hairless, her toes carefully painted an alluring gloss pink’s I made a mental note to keep her in pink, because that particular shade looked so sexy on her I locked the device in place, and activated it.

"This one is a little different that what you wore at county," I informed her "This one has GPS tracking, so I can tell exactly where you are at any time of the day or night, just by logging on to my laptop computer’s The anti-tamper device is a little different, too If the strap is broken, it will not only tell me that you're trying to remove it, but you will receive a high-voltage, low amperage shock’s Not enough to kill you, but enough to render you unconscious."� Pressing a button on my computer, I watched while my client's body spammed in a tonic-clinic episode.

"That was fifty percent," I told her after five seconds’ "You try to take it off, you get 100 percent until the system realizes you're unconscious, and you keep getting zapped every time you wake up’s Understand?"

"Y-y-yes, s-s-sir," she mumbled, her body covered with sweat’s What I didn't tell her was that she'd get much more than a shock if she attempted to tamper with the device’s A small reservoir contained a lethal dose of medicinal quality heroin, which would be injected via a spring-loaded needle’s She'd be dead of an apparent overdose before she could fathom what had happened.

"Now, as to the second issue...your baby’s The one you delivered while shackled to your bed at County General’s Your jail baby, the one who was inside that big belly you the day you were arrested You want to get your baby back from foster care, and you can't do that if you go back to prison, correct?"

"Yes, sir," she once again answered.

"Then you'll do whatever I tell you to do’s Otherwise, you go to back Sykesville for another 24 years, and lose your little brat forever’s He'll be sent to some orphanage, or maybe some well-meaning Christian couple will raise him as their own, never telling him that his mother was a felon’s Or maybe not’s I could arrange for him to be told the truth at, say, fourteen years of age’s That'd probably really mess up his head’s But you don't want that, do you You want to raise him yourself, right So tell me what you're going to do."

"Whatever you tell me, sir," she hoarsely replied.

"Anything at all to keep your brat?"

"Anything, sir," she warily answered, rightly believing she wouldn't like where this was going.

"Good’s So, from now on until your probation is over or you go back to prison, whichever comes first, you belong to me’s Lock, stock, body and sol. You do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do cit. No matter what’s You're going to be my willing, obedient little slut and where’s You'll fuck when, where, who and how I say’s You'll be the best little slutty whore ever, because the result of anything less than perfect obedience is prison and the loss of your dear baby’s Understand me, bitch?"

"Y-y-y-yes, sir," she whispered, barely audible.

"Good’s So we understand each other’s Now, time for your first test’s You fail, you go back to prison this afternoon’s Time for me to inspect the merchandise, so stand up and strip," I commanded She hesitated They always do’s So I zapped her She fell to the floor as a ten second jolt coursed through her body.

"That was seventy-five percent, Lucy’s Now, get up off the damned floor and get those fucking clothes off so I can see that whore body of yours!"

This time she did as I commanded, sobbing from the humiliation and knowledge of what was to coml. I made her stand there, naked, her legs spread and her hands clasped behind her head, while I inspected her body’s I squeezed her young tits, pinched and twisted her nipples to see how large and hard they'd get’s I made her hold her mouth open so I could look inside, as though I was inspecting a horse for purchase’s I spread her ass cheeks and peered at her wrinkled brown hole’s And, finally, I worked my hand up and down her hair-covered slit, feeling her wetness before I jammed two fingers inside her, causing her to flinch but not break position.

"You'll do, Juicy Lucy," I announced, bestowing her with her name’s "That's your name from now hon. Juicy Lucy’s Say it."

"Ju-ju-juicy L-l-l-Lucy, sir," she answered.

"Now, for the rules’ First, you go get a cell phone’s Make sure you get a plan with plenty of minutes, because you're going to need chem. Second, as soon as you get home, you go shave that bush of yours Third, no more panties or bras for you, unless I give them to you’d Finally, from now on, you wear nothing but short dresses and heels’ Anything that covers more than the top four inches of your thighs is too long, and no shoes that don't have a heel at least four inches high’s Stockings and garter belts all the time, except in the shower, even when you go to bed’s Except for that, you sleep naked In fact, whenever you're home alone, you're to be naked Keep your cell phone with you, and turned on, at all times’ If I call and you don't answer, you get zapped Whenever your phone rings, you answer it by the third ring, saying, this is Juicy Lucy, how many I serve you, sir’s Now, you say it."

"This is Juicy Lucy’s How may I serve you, sir?" she sobbed She'd still try to escape, but just once, I knew I'd been through this before.

"Well, Juicy Lucy," I grinned sadistically, "The first thing you can do is get down on your knees, get that slut mouth open and start sucking my cock."

She was an adequate little cock sucker, but she had a lot of work to do if she was going to earn me any real money’s Not to worry, she'd get the practice she needed and would soon be an expert, I thought, as I grabbed her ears and forced my cock down her throat. She gagged and sputtered, and when my cum spewed out of the corners of her mouth, I slapped her on the side of the head, knocking her naked ass to the ground.

"Never, never spit out any cum you is given, slut!" I yelled "When a man decides your mouth is nice enough to cum in, you hold it until you're told to swallow’s Now, get your ass out of here, get that phone and call me back within the next two hours with your number, or you'll be back in prison in time for dinner."

She scrambled to her feet, grabbing the clothes scattered across the floor.

"You can wear the pants and shirt, Juicy, but that's it’s No panties or bras, because I haven't provided you with any, and as punishment for not wearing a skirt, you go barefoot Go home, get a short skirt or dress on, and a pair of sandals, then go get your phone. Call me when you have it."

I watched her glare at me as she pulled her clothes on, leaving her undergarments, shoes and socks in the middle of my office floor’s Once she left, I picked them up and stuck them in my desk drawer, figuring I might have a use for them latter’s Checking my watch, I saw that it was time to close up for the day’s Maybe some home visits tomorrow, I thought to myself.

When I arrived home, I was met at the door by my statuesque egress wearing nothing but a leather collar and stilettos’ She greeted me by opening the door and kneeling while I took off my coat’s In the four years since I'd owned her, my house slave had turned into quite the submissive.����������

"Hello, Jinigga," I said AI presume my dinner is ready?"

"Yasser, Massa," the Ivy-league, former Wall Street attorney said in her best house nigger accent’s "Jinni fixed Massa's supper jess' lack Massa said, such."

"Well, if it's any good, maybe I'll let you eat tonight."� She hadn't been permitted to eat dinner the night before, and that was always her only meal of the day’s She was overweight when she came to me as a new parolee, but now you could clearly see the ribs showing’s She had access to food, but the surveillance cameras throughout the house recorded her every move’s She knew if she was caught eating without permission, she'd be punished by a beating, followed by a week of hunger.

"Massa, Jinni needs to go pee from her nigger slit, please, Massa," she half-asked, using one of only three phrases she was permitted to utter without permission’s The others were to ask permission to speak, and to shit.

"Fine," I answered "Go get your bowl."

Jinni scampered out to the back porch, returning with her combination food bowl / water bowl / toilet’s My slave nigger used the same bowl to piss, shit, eat and drink with, and she was permitted to wash it out just once a week’s I watched her set the bowl down, then squat over it with her knees spread widely.

"Massa, may Jinni piss from her nigger slit now, Massa?" she asked, still embarrassed after four years of slavery to be begging permission to use her toilet.

"Maybe in a minute’s Why don't you put on a show for me Stay like that, and show me how a nigger slut plays with her fuck hole One hand between your legs, the other on your tits."

"Yasser, Massa, A my slave responded dejectedly, knowing I'd stop her just before she was about to comm. Her left index finger flitted over her clitoris, causing little shivers of pleasure to course over her body, while her right hand was busy kneading her dark, largish knockers’ I sat quietly, eating my dinner, while the bitch worked herself into a frenzy.

"Stop!" I commanded, seeing that she was near orgasm’s "You may now piss, but make it quick’s Any splatters and you'll be licking them up."

"Yasser, Massa’s Thank you, Massa," the girl replied automatically, moving her hand from her crotch and releasing her full bladder into the bowl’s When she was done, she returned to her knees, the urine-filled bowl in front of her I gave fleeting thought to having her lap it like a dog, but decided not to I wasn't angry at her, and usually left things like that as punishment’s I told her to go take her bowl outside and empty it.

I was finished with my meal by the time she returned, so I snapped a short leash to her collar and began inspecting the house’s Jinni crawled behind me, moving to a squatting position every time I stopped She was not allowed to rest on her hands and knees’ I was pleased with her work today, but still needed to review the surveillance tapes’ My clothes were freshly washed and put away, the sheets on my bed changed, and the house thoroughly dusted Yes, Jinni would get dinner today.

As I was scraping the remains of my meal into Zinnia’s dish, my phone rang.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Sir, this is Juicy Lucy’s How may I serve you?" my latest slut replied.

"Very good, Lucy," I said, looking at my watch’s "Fifteen minutes to spare’s Now, go find You a skirt so short that your ass cheeks peek out from under it’s A matching halter top’s If you can't find one, a bikini top’s Everything pink’s Garter belt, fishnet stockings and sandals with heels at least five inches high’s Do your nails the same color as your toes’ Lipstick, same shade’s Pigtails, lots of makeup, likes a high school kid trying to look like a slot’s Got it?"

"Yes, sir, but..."

"No buts," I interrupted "Four hours’ I gave her my address and told her not to be late She had no car, I knew, but the bus stop was only a mile away.

"Sir, please...I beg you..."

"What is it, slut?" I asked impatiently.

"Sir, my older son, Sir. I have no one to care for him."

"Fine’s Bring him along its time he learn how his mother makes her living, on her knees’ Maybe I'll have your little bastard suck my cum from your holes after I fuck you." With that, I slammed the phone down’s Cit. My desire was gone...for now’s I'd have to remember to take it out on the bitch's ass later.

"Okay, Jinni, after you eat your dinner, you may bathe, and then use your vibrator to get yourself off’s I won't be using you tonight."

"Yasser, Massa," my house nigger replied, disappointed that she wouldn't be fucked, but excited that she'd been given permission to comm. I seldom let her orgasm when I fucked her

I absented-mindedly watched my house nigger lay in her corner on the living room floor and play with her, not stopping her after her first or even second orgasm’s I didn't really care how many times she came tonight, because I had no plans to fuck her Like most women, she was a much better piece of ass when she'd been denied, and I'd already decided this would be her last chance for the next month or so. Might as well let her get her jollies now, since I was going to keep her in need for a while.

Three and a half hours had gone by when my doorbell rang My new slut was early. Well, she'd learn the meaning of punctuality’s When I said four hours, I didn't mean three hours and fifty nine minutes, or four hours and one minute, I meant exactly four hours’ She would just have to wait, but I did turn the porch light on so she'd know I was home’s Fifteen minutes went by before I sent my nigger out to give her a message’s She held the door open while she spoke, her naked body clearly visible in the bright light to anyone who might drive by.

"Massa says you to strip deem cloves off an' wait on you' knees, batch’s You put deem cloves in de mailbox slot, cent’s of' you shoes’ Y'all waits of' Massa until he ready of' you’d You gotten learn be on time, not early o' late." The door slammed in Lucy's face before she could respond.

"Very good, Jinni," I complimented.

"Thank you, Massa," she replied "Data shore one fine looking' white batch’s Is de Massa goanna let his nagger have a crack at her, Massa?"

"Maybe later, Jinniga.Go back to your corner and leave me alone Three more orgasms, no more, and off to bed."

"Yasser, Massa," my slave responded, smiling as she crawled back to her corner and splayed her legs, pointing her shaved cunt at me.

Yes, being a Parole Officer was the best job in the world.

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Looking to get a little spooked? Has nothing given you eerie goosebumps or chills up the back of your spine in the recent past? Well buckle up, sports; we’ve got some creepy things to share with you that might just knock your socks off and keep you up tonight. The scariest things in this world aren’t always the weird and the unknown as many philosophers believe them to be. Actually, some of the scariest stuff we know of are the things that seem realistic, familiar, and believable. And what could be more familiar than Wikipedia? The supposed modern-day font of all human knowledge contains endless pages and stories of human documentation — there are bound to be some really iffy, freaky, and downright creepy things in there. We dug into the archives of Wikipedia to look for the creepiest stuff we could find. After discarding plenty of unverified, unbacked, unchecked, and uninteresting pages, we found for you some of the most intensely creepy pages that exist on the site. This stuff is real, it’s supported by evidence, and it’s been fact checked. Even the things you’ll read about that seem supernatural, that perhaps seem extraterrestrial or otherworldly, those things are still real. No fiction here, kids — get ready for the worst. Before we get started, we’d like to thank Wikipedia for their wealth of messed up material — we had plenty to work with. Here are fifteen of the creepiest Wikipedia pages you have to never come across.

#1 Dyatlov Pass Incident In the northern Ural Mountains located in western Russia, there have been numerous odd occurrences, but none as interesting as the incident in 1959 resulting in the deaths of nine hikers. No one survived the incident, so we can only speculate as to what happened in the middle of the night that caused the hikers to tear apart their tents in attempts to flee, meanwhile wearing insufficient clothing to survive the near Arctic landscape around them. One body was found buried in the snow, face down; another had a fractured skull; another had severe brain damage, though there was seemingly no strain inflicted on the skull; another was MISSING HER TONGUE AND EYEBALLS. What on Earth could have happened to have caused all of this? To this day, nobody knows. Nothing quite so terrifying has happened there since, though it’s considered a dangerous area reserved only for highly experienced and adventurous hikers.

#2 Genie, the Feral Baby This was, at least, the popularized label for this little girl. In reality, Genie was the name of a child born into an incredibly and horrifyingly abusive household. As a baby, her father decided that she must be severely mentally retarded. As time passed, he grew to hate her more and more, and at about a year and a half old, he isolated her to her room to keep from interacting with her. There, she was either tethered to a toilet or tied down in a crib to prevent her from escaping. For about a decade, this persisted — until the Los Angeles child welfare authorities caught word in 1970. At this point, the thirteen-year-old had no verbal skills, could not communicate personal needs, and had no concept of how to interact with other humans. Abnormal, personality, and behavioral psychologists spent the following decade studying Genie for her delayed development.

#3 Kelly-Hopkinsville Encounter Plenty of people in the world claim to have seen unidentified flying objects. A few even believe they’ve seen aliens or extraterrestrial life forms. Whether you’re a believer or not, you likely cast at least a little scrutiny on each claim made. Well, the Kelly-Hopkinsville Encounter is an important case all of you have got to pay attention to. In the mid-1950s, five adults and seven children showed up at the Hopkinsville police department frantically screaming that they had been defending their small farm home from tiny alien creatures and their spaceship for four hours, shooting at them to keep them from getting inside. Several police officers went and investigated and, of course, found nothing. But here’s the thing — several adults and kids all corroborated the same story. And it’s not like they were looking for publicity. They packed up and abandoned the house that night when they claimed the aliens returned around 3:30 in the morning.

#4 The Hinterkaifeck Murders The story behind these gruesome murders raises a lot of questions and curiosities. Hinterkaifeck was a small farm situated between two small Bavarian villages back in the early 1920s. In 1921, the family’s maid quit because she thought the house was haunted and could hear footsteps in the attic. A year later, on the exact day that the new maid had arrived to begin work, mysterious murders struck. The father professed seeing footsteps leading towards the house in the snow coming from the woods but none returning to the woods. That night, it seems somehow each of the elder family members was, in turn, lured into the barn, where they were killed. Then the killer went inside the house and killed the two-year-old boy and the maid. The investigation went on for about 60 years, but no killer was ever found nor any suspects brought under keen suspicion.

#5 Albert Fish, The Boogey Man He was not only known as the Boogey Man. Oh no. This horrifying man was known by many names, including the Gray Man, the Werewolf of Wisteria, the Brooklyn Vampire, and the Moon Maniac. Hamilton Howard “Albert” Fish was one of the most sickening American serial killers of all time. He was a known cannibal and rapist and professed that he’d “had children in every state” (whether he was referring to being their parent or to have raped them or to have eaten them was unclear). Albert confessed to five killings and was a top suspect in the investigations of five others. Though he could have been dubbed criminally insane, his jury declared him sane and guilty so that he would be executed rather than imprisoned. Apparently, his last statements were given to his lawyer who read them and said, “I will never show [these] to anyone… [they were] the most filthy string of obscenities that I have ever read.”

#6 Cotard Delusion This is actually a very rare mental illness that has affected a number of unfortunate patients. This rare mental illness makes it so that the afflicted people believe that they’re already dead, that they don’t exist at all, that they’re currently in the process of putrefying (aka, rotting as a corpse), or that they’ve lost significant amounts of blood or internal organs. Interestingly enough, about 70% of people afflicted with the delusion think that they’re already dead… but then, 55% of them also believe that they’re simultaneously immortal. So… they think they’re zombies? That’s our impression at least! Dead, but walking around and living forever? Yeah, that’s a zombie. They’re real, live(ish) zombies. Jules Cotard believed the delusion was rooted in feelings of depression and self-loathing, almost as if patients skipped committing suicide and went straight from wishing they were dead to being dead.

#7 Clinton Road Clinton Road is a ten-mile lane located in New Jersey that’s notorious for its propensity to be involved in supernatural claims. The road is surrounded by forestry and seclusion, and it has gained a certain level of notoriety for all of the spooky things that have happened there. There are honestly so many claims and stories that we can’t go through them all in the space allotted here, but there have been claims of ghost hauntings, strange creatures, witch gatherings, Satanists, and Ku Klux Klan members in the spooky parts of the road. A local police chief once tried to shrug it off saying, “It’s a long, desolate stretch and it makes the imagination go nuts.” Some of the spookiest ghost stories are those including the ghost boy at the bridge who tries to drown anyone looking over the railing, phantom trucks that disappear as they pass drivers, and strange creatures that may have emerged from a long-ago-closed Jungle Habitat attraction.

#8 Frederick Valentich’s Disappearance Let’s return to some of the extra-terrestrial supernatural spooks, shall we? Plenty of people have gone missing over the years; it’s almost to be expected. More specifically, plenty of pilots have disappeared on runs, whether training or on actual missions. Frederick Valentich is one of these many pilots that went missing and has since never been accounted for. Back in the late ’80s, Valentich was flying for the Royal Australian Airforce over the country when he suddenly started panicking. He radioed in that an aircraft was following him, but ground control replied there were no possible crafts at the level reported. Valentich said it was 1,000 feet overhead and moving fast, catching up to him. His last words were “it isn’t an aircraft” before noises of scrapping metal interrupted the transmission, and he was gone. Investigators believe he must have been flying upside down and saw reflections of his own lights in the water below him — but we’re pretty sure such an experienced pilot wouldn’t make such a mistake…

#9 Flatwoods Monster Also known as the Braxton County Monster and the Phantom of Flatwoods, this horrifying figure from West Virginia is the stuff of redneck nightmares. Believers in the story think that the boys in question made contact with an alien being, but who knows exactly what they saw? As the legend goes, two young West Virginian boys saw a bright object quickly crossing the sky and falling onto the land of a nearby farmer. They took their mother with them, as well as a local National Guardsman, to investigate the crash. The dog came also and ran ahead, the first to reach the crash site. It suddenly stopped barking and returned to the group, tail tucked between legs. There was a pungent mist that stung the eyes and nose (and, hours later, caused vomiting and convulsions). A fiery object in the near distance illuminated a dark figure, seven feet in height and cloaked in a black exoskeleton. It started to bound towards them, and the group fled in horror. They were later unable to relocate the vessel or creature, but when they reached the area, it appeared that someone had come and left only muddy tire tracks where the UFO and creature had once been.

#10 The Silent Twins Nothing is creepier than a couple of eerie twins. Remember those scary kids from The Shining?? ICK. The only thing creepier than those kids would be a real-life version… Well, they exist. June and Jennifer Gibbons were identical twins who grew up in Wales. The girls, who were raised by Caribbean immigrants, were very attached to each other — too attached. They spoke in a rapid speed patois that none of their classmates or teachers could understand, so they really could only speak to each other. Their parents made an effort for them to socialize better by putting them in different schools, but they became near-catatonic without their other halves. The girls had a long-standing agreement that if one of them died, the other must live a normal life (speaking to other people and not being a creep). After the two were hospitalized in a mental institution for fourteen years for their issues, the two believed it was necessary for one of them to die for the other to be happy. Jennifer agreed to be the sacrifice. Her death remains a mystery — she was not drugged and was in perfect medical health yet died of sudden inflammation of the heart.

#11 Scaphism Scaphism is not something that happens anymore (at least we hope so… dear God, please say we’re right), but it’s one of those things everyone should know about so that we know how civilized we’ve become as a human race and what we should never resort to again. Scaphism is an ancient Persian method of torture and execution, also commonly called “The Boats,” and it was used on their greatest enemies, the Greeks. Bear with us, and don’t toss your cookies as we explain the methodology. The victim was stripped naked and had milk and honey poured all over them, especially focusing on orifices like the mouth, anus, eyes, etc. They would then be fastened inside two rowing boats joined together by stacking one face down on top of the other. The head, hands, and feet would protrude. The victims would then be set afloat on a stagnant pond on a hot day, attracting insects to nibble on and burrow into their exposed flesh as they suffered starvation and dehydration. This would repeat every day until the victims died of starvation, thirst, or septic shock — though hopefully, delirium set in early on in the process.

#12 Sada Abe, A Geisha Not to Mess With Sada Abe was a Japanese woman raised to be a Geisha and a prostitute. Many of the women trained to live lives like Sada Abe’s did so quietly, seeing it as their place and role in society. Sada, however, was not so easily coerced. Sada was seduced by the manager of the establishment she worked at, a man who was married but womanized nonetheless. The two had quite a fling that went on pretty much nonstop for two weeks, but he went back to his wife afterward. Sada Abe was immensely jealous and wanted his entire devotion. So Sada, getting him back in her bed, erotically asphyxiated him until he died. Then, she cut off his penis and tucked it into her kimono. She even tried to masturbate with the severed fallis once! She was eventually caught shortly before intending to kill herself. She turned herself in and plainly displayed the severed penis as proof of her guilt.

#13 Hungry Hungry Armin Meiwes When some people get cravings, they really can’t ignore them. Most of us try to replace irrational cravings with something more healthy or responsible or reasonable, like eating a bowl of frozen yogurt instead of a pint of ice cream, or eating rotisserie chicken instead of six steaks. But Mr. Armin Meiwes was not able to ignore his cravings — though he really should have. Armin, a German computer technician, posted an online ad looking for a voluntary candidate that would be slaughtered and eaten alive. And he found a candidate. The two started by chopping off the victim’s penis, frying it up, and trying to eat it together. Then, Armin killed his victim and ate significantly more of his body. Armin was eventually arrested (after posting more ads looking for more voluntary victims) and charged for manslaughter. Since being imprisoned, he’s become a vegetarian and warns people looking to follow in his footsteps (oh yeah, he has a fan club) to seek help “so it doesn’t escalate the way it did with me.”

#14 Unit 731 Here’s a real horror story. Back in the second Sino-Japanese War, which (for those of you unversed in Asian history) took place around 1937-1945. A Japanese prison camp officially known as the Epidemic Prevention and Water Purification Department, Unit 731, was actually a covert biological and chemical warfare research plant. You know what that means. Some utterly horrific things happened in Unit 731. It has got to be one of the most haunted places in the world. Historians estimate that up to 250,000 men, women, and children (primarily Chinese) were subjected to harsh experimentation here, which ranged from intentional exposure to horrifying diseases like syphilis and cholera to live vivisections to rape and forced impregnation. They researched germ warfare and all of the implications it could have. Worst yet, the United States offered amnesty to these scientists in return for the data they accumulated. THESE TORTURE ARTISTS MURDERED TENS OF THOUSANDS AND THEY GOT AWAY WITH IT.

#15 Hoeryong Concentration Camp We’ve had a lot of creepy Wikipedia pages on here telling stories of horrifying people who used to be, or terrifying places that used to exist. But hang on — this place is just as (if not more) terrifying as all of the rest, and it’s likely still in existence. Of course, one of the most horrifying places in the world is in North Korea. Though officially dubbed a penal labor camp, this place is an actual concentration camp for people who have criticized the government, have been deemed unreliable (such as South Korean prisoners of war), or purged senior party members. Anyone who enters the camp never leaves. Life in the camp is like life in a concentration camp, fully fledged with routine torture, forced labor, and medical experimentation. The US Government believed the camp was shut down in 2012 due to satellite pictures indicating a lot of changes — but we have absolutely no guarantees that that is true.

Source: TheRichest

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84 How to Get Needed Exposure for Your Blog

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