#capitalist dream human nightmare

[nadekosnake]

First week of July means I can finally take a break from all of my responsibilities!!!

[chronicsymptomsyndrome]

Just called to schedule an appointment and an automated voice told me that phones are off for staff lunch every day from 12-1 and to please call back during NORMAL BUSINESS HOURS and I would just like to say, begging, desperately pleading, on my knees, sobbing, can we please universalize this concept that meal times≠normal business hours? that it is NORMAL to not only allow but require that your workers take adequate breaks for self-care? Can this be the new standard everywhere please

[solarpunk-nightbird]

For decades we dreamed dystopia, and in March of 2020, when COVID crashed upon U.S. shores, it seemed like we had dreamed it so well we wished it into being. While wealthy reactionaries are building actual bunkers and prepping for environmental collapse, fantasizing about which shade of hopelessness our apocalypse will take is a luxury we can no longer afford. By accepting as inevitable humanity’s demise by its own hand, post-apocalyptic fiction places no responsibility on the living to course correct.

These days, climate change isn’t over the horizon, it’s here. The virus that shuts down the globe? We had that, too. Dystopian fiction? That’s so 2012. It’s time we collectively dream of something else. A better world is possible, but if artists and writers are to contribute to that better world, we’re going to need to balance our splendid hellscapes with gardens of earthly delight. We need to envision futures that are livable and happy, and we need to imagine how we get there from here. What’s more, we need to make those worlds as thrilling and engaging as any post-apocalyptic zombie-strewn nightmare.

Fortunately, we don’t need to invent a new literary genre to show us the way to a better tomorrow. Just as there is a left-wing climate movement demanding humanity break from fossil fuels to create a bright future for life on Earth, so is there a parallel climate fiction that allows us to imagine that better world. In steps solarpunk, left-wing literature’s answer to the dystopian novel. Solarpunk looks towards a post-capitalist future of renewable energy. It rejects climate “doomerism” and shows what our collective future could look like if we heal our relationship with the natural world.

Far from Star Trek’s “full luxury space communism,” where humans race across galaxies via endless sources of energy, the technology in solarpunk is imminently achievable. In the anthology Future Primitive: The New Ecotopias, science fiction writer and democratic socialist Kim Stanley Robinson describes this genre as rejecting “the inevitability of the machine future.” Instead it asks, “What is the healthiest way to live? What is the most beautiful?” Rather than Elon Musk’s tent cities on Mars, these fictional worlds “cobble together aspects of the postmodern and the paleolithic, asserting that we might for very good reasons choose to live in ways that resemble in part the ways of our ancestors.” 

-via Current Affairs, March 25, 2024

[amnayel]

when i heard Leona sayings his plan of modernization/industrialization for sunset savanna in the bead brawl event I was so glad he wouldn’t become king bc I seemed like a TERRIBLE idea

especially for a country that people live in cooperation with each other and respect with the nature, his idea was bad in itself but in a country with this culture it was even worse

You CANT have progress without respecting nature, this is not progress, it’s trading the future for the present

A good life doesnt means a life full of money, it’s hard to say that considering most of us live in a capitalist country, but humans need food, shelter, art and other humans, not a new iphone. We believe we need money bc in the society where we live, money is the only thing capable of guaranteeing these things

But that’s not true for sunset savanna, they have the resources to guarantee a good life for everyone.

what Farene needs to do (and he apparently IS doing) is slowly working into distributing better the resources among the population to make sure that everyone can live well, without damaging the land

But well, that’s the result of Leona plan: abuse of the land that culminates into lack of resources and ends up with people dying of hunger and fighting to survive

His plan was idealistic and he couldn’t think about the consequences, although I thought it would work in a dream and I’m really interested in why it didn’t

I don’t blame him, he probably never got to understand this bc only farena got the heir education, I wonder if the reason why Leona dream became a nightmare is bc he internalized what people said about he never being able of being a king?

But im also glad that twst showed us how he actually was not fitted to be king, this is not a job he can get just bc he really wants it, people’s lives depend on it

although this was predictable considering book 2 and the lion king movie itself

[thenightpost]

Pairing Audio and Print Fiction: Moonbase Theta, Out and Everyone on the Moon Is Essential Personnel

Why you should listen to MTO:

This podcast by @monkeymanproductions is beautiful, grounded sci-fi that builds its world of struggle and hope through the hearts of its lifelike characters. The first season consists of micro-fiction episodes in the form of progress reports from a moon base in the process of being decommissioned. From the second season onward, the cast of one expands to a whole group of moon-based professionals, by necessity a kind of family that accepts their differences and their shared hardships. As I listened, I came to feel a part of that group too, and to care for these characters despite their shortcomings, as one does for real people.

Why you should read EotMIEP:

This short story collection by Julian K. Jarboe provides striking variety in its subjects while always cleaving close to its themes of queer/trans identity and resilience. Its title story/novella depicts a moon colonization industry that is obviously exploitative, but still offers hope to those laborers who have exhausted their opportunities on earth (particularly queer, disabled, and indigenous workers). My favorite story in the collection, "I Am a Beautiful Bug!", follows a person caught in a bureaucratic nightmare after receiving surgery to become a Kafkaesque giant insect. I reveled in the eventual triumph of this self-made bug-person, as well as in the trans joy of robots, troubled teens, and the other characters who populate these stories.

Why you should try both!

MTO and Jarboe's title novella share a vision of the moon as a place of hope to strive for, a hope frustratingly limited by self-serving capitalist interests. Despite coming up against systemic forces they can do little to combat, the heroes of both works find comfort and agency in community. There's a kind of queer revolutionary bent that runs through both of these texts, which does not proscribe what a better future must look like, but imagines possible paths toward it. These stories have inspired my own work in how they center the complexity and transcending power of human connection in overwhelming circumstances, and how our present shapes our dreams of the future.

[thefeminine-urge]

I woke up, and the grief was murderous. Sufficiently insufferable. I am so happy and so sad. So sad, I want to write the shit out of it, but I didn't. The memoir, my Amor Fati, this rooting journey and how to fall asleep at night with myself, who most parts longing for a sanctuary. But, I don't belong. There's only one hideaway. It would entertain me by strange dreams and nightmares. A lot of explicit dreams in the past nights of July. An adulting fantasy at its finest. The opposite of dream is nightmare, I had one of many about being in a car with my mom, dad and brother - we were on a ride at the edge of the sea and the car flipped right into the water but I escaped while the others drowned in. How ironic, my life is a movie. The Evil Eyes are watching me, perhaps. Reading me through the mirror shaped like a door to the abyss I just placed in my room. I'm happy to get to see how much I have grown day by day, and I remember death, so I shy away on wanting too much. But in nature, I'm still a naughty rebellious girl. My growth goes, for an instance, not from the root of a tree but from its trunk being cut down. Now I understand why some trees were slaughtered or plants get trimmed, it's for them to grow anew. Just like hair scientifically. Just like me. I missed a lot of July's sunlight, and my favourite park is like my other abandoned hobbies and dreams. I befriended the capitalistic sapiens and let them milked blood out of my breast. Forgive me, for I have sin to keep this lung pumping and this heart beating. My after effect should cause them to grow fonder of life that is not merely all about hustling to the grave, but a good life is like having access to real nourishing food and as simple as real love should be and divine intervention to guide through path after path. In case life ends, I don't want us to leave an empty journal we wished to write because time is truly brutal, and the metaverse has taken us over. What we feel and think is precious, more than any currency will ever be, and AI will never reach a human's peak.

[inkdemonapologist]

Ok. A hypothetical scenario if you'll indulge me. You are a casting director on the movie. You are familiar with the material and you are asked to present some actors to the crew- *besides JK Simmons who everybody thinks should play Joey I guess?* who do you suggest and for what role?

I don't know any actors other than The Guy With The Cool Lips Who Played Scarecrow That One Time, so setting me up as casting director would be a questionable decision! I feel like the very tiny amount we know about this movie also makes this difficult; like, am I casting Sammy in 1932, Sammy in 1946, Ink Sammy, all three?

So, rather than picking specific famous people, some broader thoughts on what elements to prioritise?? as hypothetical casting director. For sake of this exercise we're going to take this all very seriously and pretend that the writing for this movie is already great lmao.

Joey: Ironically for the first BatIM character to get a canon human appearance, I think Joey's acting chops are more important than his looks; as long as makeup can do a decent moustache and the voice is good, the energy is what will really sell him. Joey Drew is both VERY important to get right and also the most complex character in the Bendy Franchise, but he's also really really easy to turn into a stereotype, and I feel like this implication of "obviously he should be played by the guy who played J Jonah Jameson" kinda speaks to how easy it is to see just one side of him. Joey is simultaneously ruthless but also disarmingly charming, likeable but also punchable, confident but also pathetically insecure, genuine but also manipulative -- it seems like a tricky energy to nail. If he doesn't have a sharpness to him, that Curiosity Where Empathy Should Be element, you've erased a really important part of the man behind so many nightmares; if he's a cartoon evil capitalist, then everyone who believes in his dreams looks stupid for falling for something so obvious. Whoever plays him has to be able to get in his head AND ALSO convey that nuance. But if you have the luxury of nitpicking appearance after that, I think it's worth noting that Joey doesn't look the way he's trying to look. I keep saying I'm obsessed with his overbite in BatDR, but like:

See? Henry's the one with that aggressive strong jaw facial structure. Compared to him, even this less-aged Joey has facial structure more like mine, with a weaker chin that gives the impression of an overbite and a shorter face (which, to be clear, are attractive traits, but they are definitely not the Stereotypical Energy for this character archetype) -- he just knows how to carry himself to give off that j jonah jameson energy. I think attention to that kind of detail would also help him be his own fascinating character instead of just shoving him into an existing archetype.

Henry: If it's Ink Henry, his vibes are the most important. This character is famously non-emotive, often to an inappropriate extent, and frankly I think whoever plays him should keep that as part of his character. Henry strikes me as someone who wants to be kind but he's so, so tired, and just looking at this guy needs to sell that because Henry's actual behaviour and dialogue won't.

If it's Actually Worked In The Studio Henry, then I think his voice and appearance need to be SPOT. ON. so that they can play him a little differently and it still works rather than just not feeling like Henry. If he sounds like a perfect Henry but he has more energy, he's still quiet but he's more confident, he's not the follower Joey tried to sell him as... that would be such a neat thing to leave as an implied reveal for fans -- that the Henry we know is either a dishonest representation, or changed by his experiences, and is actually a bit different from the man Joey worked with.

Susie: they won't do this because they're cowards, but I personally think Susie would be such a good candidate for protagonist of a Bendy movie..... anyway if human Susie is in it, she doesn't have a canon appearance so you have a lot of freedom here. Most important thing is that She Has The Range; she needs to be able to be both believably naive and starry-eyed in a likeable way rather than coming across as desperate or annoying, and she ALSO needs to have a ruthless energy in her so that her later Womens Wrongs don't come out of nowhere. If Twisted Alice AND Susie both make appearances, I'm torn on whether they should be played by the same person... it could be cool if they were, since then you could see a lot of Susie in Alice even when she's behaving VERY DIFFERENTLY, which I think would humanise Alice in a good way (and also humanise Susie as more than just a Sweet Naive Girl Who Was Tricked)

Either way Twisted Alice NEEDS TO BE HOT. IM NOT JOKING I THINK THIS IS THE PRIORITY. Yes yes half her face is melting, but her vibes are UNIRONICALLY "hot and evil and wants to vivisect someone." Like, it would also be nice to get someone who can play her with dimension, with an implication that she has reason to be a cartoon evil sexy person who flies into a shrieking rage beyond just women be crazy (which is kind of what she is in the games), but also, she IS a cartoon evil sexy person and you CAN'T lose that; she needs to be able to pull off EVIL AND HOT with half her face gone without it feeling like a parody. Lesbians in the audience need to fan themselves. ITS VERY IMPORTANT.

I don't have a ton of thoughts about Allison. We have a pretty specific physical description of her human self. She needs to have enough ethereal poise to justify the lovesick way she is described in every novel lmao. Allison Angel, though, is where I would put a priority of Needs A Character Actor i think; she's a fairly major character but it's so hard to get a good handle on what she actually like..... wants or feels beyond Helping The Protagonist and Being A Good Person, but if she could really sell the bits and pieces so well you believe it, so that she really seems like she's been harshened by the brutal world she lives in but genuinely values a hope she won't let go of, it could make the character really good.

Sammy.............. Well, it's hard to not be biased. But human Sammy has no canon appearance, so I think you can't go wrong there as long as you pick someone who could conceivably be described as "pointy", and I PERSONALLY think based on the little crumbs of description we've gotten that a human Sammy should be fairly distinctive and intense, attractive in a Strange way - but I think the really really important thing for Sammy (ink or human) is his vocal performance. This is a character who took off in popularity in large part because of a couple of really compellingly delivered monologues; Sammy's voice NEEDS to be right, especially when he's speaking quietly. I think physicality in the sense of How He Moves is ALSO really important for him; Sammy's wiggle-fingers in game and constantly odd descriptions in the novels and complete lack of personal space in both all imply that he moves Strangely, and I do think he should have an unsettling Renfield energy, but it's also so easy for Character Who Is Losing His Mind to get portrayed so over-the-top that it becomes goofy or unbelievable or weird for the sake of being "creepy". Sammy's energy shouldn't be Insane Batman Villain, it should be Doomed Guy In A Lovecraft Story -- it's just that nobody but him is in a lovecraft story.

there are other characters but I think these are all the ones i have thoughts on

[fictionalshippingbean]

Nightmare: LOWERCASE LETTERS ARE FOR THE LOWER CLASS!

Error: And here we have a capitalist.

Cinna: Did you just-

Dream: Let us all take a moment to appreciate that all of human history, human language, and the universe itself aligned to make this joke possible.

[anamariamauricia]

turning by Alexandra Dowling

when will we heed the warnings of a goddess in distress?

the scars of her abuse run deep she will no longer be oppressed

body plundered beauty squandered let this time be our test

maybe she feels rage

the same way humans do

a lack of love where love was due

we binged she gave we just kept right on it

still more we crave and now we’re hooked on our own vomit

like my friends bent over toilets with fingers down their gullets

to eject the fear and loathing that hides inside in a frantic bid to self correct

because they too believe the lie to which we’re still complying

that we aren’t enough

so we keep on trying

desperate for comfort we’re grabbing and grasping and taking and raping and using and clasping to the next rung on the ladder

and hey life is tough so why not numb out when waters get rough?

world leaders hang heads but refuse to be led by the science

or youth who are begging for truth

too overwhelmed by what lies ahead they shake hands or shake fists instead

‘cause how do you reverse a runaway train if you’re invested in keeping the game just the same?

if perpetual growth is our ultimate goal i feel stuck in a nightmare that deadens the soul of the mother that birthed us sustains all we do

we belong to that soul

we are nature

it’s true

and like wounded children that never grew up we’ve rejected our mother and now our times up

times up

on the lying and climate denying

times up

on excuses these times call for muses

because this guiding myth of more dictates one thing

that gdp growth is the cause that will win and all other missions just get in the way of this game that the top one percent love to play

and yes i confess

i belong the tribe of capitalist consumers brought up to thrive on socially sanctioned ecocide billed as wealth creation and enterprise

centuries of exploitation labelled development and progress

the mass manipulation of a colonial education and the corporate press

the problematic proposition that ‘the market knows best’

i won’t deny i’ve benefitted

i know that i’m complicit

but if i run from the blame i’ll keep doing the same old shit i always did and just ignore my part in it ignore the knocking at my ribs that says

i’ve had enough of this

if every earthly heart is broken

why not let yours crack wide open?

your fallibility - it’s human

we’re all caught in these stories that perpetuate distress by enshrining competition as the route to success but survival of the fittest only tells a partial truth

the better part of darwin’s theory is that we evolve not lose

through our empathy and care and collaboration too

a fact oppressive systems appear to refuse

we’ve been cycling these white lies inside our minds for our whole lives

and conditioning’s a powerful force to override

but I know that we’re here to do more than just survive

now it’s ‘too late’ to keep the dream of 1.5 degrees alive

but there’s a route through this crisis where we find another way

co-create a future in which children can play on our streets instead of protest

one that honours life

honours freedom wisdom love

honours beauty truth and mystery below and above

one that reunites us with our desecrated mother

helps us look at our divisions and relate to each other

not as winners or losers but sisters and brothers

fucked up, failing, flawed but capable of more

than we ever imagined

we just need the support

a revolution is here

it lives in our hearts

excuse me for being naive but it’s never too late to start

i’m sure we all feel it what i’m saying isn’t new

the only thing that’s left to ask is ‘what is mine to do?’

do i have the courage to stand for what i know?

do i have the humility to say that i can’t do this on my own?

find communities of care to upend the status quo proving economies that dare to put love first will grow strong enough to uproot the weeds it’s time to overthrow

can we empower each other to take a step that counts?

and keep taking small but hopeful steps until our time runs out?

can we keep an open mind and be kind

while we’re learning how best to turn up

in this time of great turning?

[mbabol]

potal

potal

If I were to write like a legit literary essay about portal I think I would write about themes of infinity in the game and their relationship with the cartoonish satirical capitalist hellscape of aperture science. Like there has to be something there between portals being infinite loops and GLaDOS coming into being from the explicit wish to achieve immortality and the capitalist dream of infinity – of capitalism never dying, of infinite growth, of infinite profits. As a company, aperture was always chasing the concept of infinity because that’s what companies do. So theres something funny about how they did achieve a kind of infinity with the creation of the portal gun and the birth of GLaDOS. When infinity is realized, it’s often destructive, and the two infinity’s are at odds with each other even and destroy each other. Chell with the portal gun ends one infinity (GLaDOS) and by extension the infinity of testing that GLaDOS wants to realize. GLaDOS, obviously, loves violence and killing and is just in a defacto state of wanting Chell and the portal gun dead (until the end, but we’ll get to that). GLaDOS though, also, as an extension of aperture, also idolizes infinity. She needs the portal gun to prolong her infinite testing and she reveals in Portal 2 that she wants Chell to also join her in infinity (however sincere or deep of a sentiment that is). GLaDOS is bound by Aperture’s desire for infinity in ways that inevitably seem to only hurt her. She will outlive all her test subjects, any attachments, even the company itself. Even in death she is haunted by infinity, caught in the infinite loop of the automatic recording feature that replays her final moments in case of catastrophic failure. The tragedy of GLaDOS is the tragedy of infinity, and it’s so funny and sad that this means her happiest ending is what the game ends with, which is to let Chell go. Insert corny commentary about breaking cycles here. But it falls in line with the cartoonishly evil capitalist aperture, which is the institution of science and industry taken to its comical extreme. Ok how to tie the lesbianity into this OH yeah also the ending is just another rejection of infinity that cements that a happy ending necessitates grappling with finality. That fucking cube. GLaDOS takes care in both games to stress its replaceability and the cruelty of its death. They’ve got warehouses full of the things. An infinite supply, which makes any individual of them meaningless. To then mark the original cube (its scorched from dropping it in the incinerator) as individual and to return it in a gesture of goodwill and affection to yet another infinite yet finite “resource”, human test subject Chell, reasserts individual value and blah blah blah im boring myself. What else is there.

Idk. cant even think of any scathing critical commentary rn because I do think its fun that they made this ghoulish company to be like “the end state of nightmare companies is apocalypse and mass murderer robots”. Like that’s fun.

[andmaybegayer]

Huh, no it's not. That's not even a slightly realistic conclusion to draw from COTSbot. The COTSbot computer vision system is an extremely specific task recognizing a single species of starfish in a limited context and, crucially, is only experimental. There is no army of active COTSbots running around spearing starfish. COTSbot is a one-of-a-kind piece of research technology, the gulf between "this robot can perform interesting novel tasks with a lab backing it up" and "this robot can perform a complex task reliably and safely with minimum supervision in the wild" is the difference between a baby saying "mama" and a performance of "A Midsummer Night's Dream"

If you think for a second, it is not hard to imagine reasons why removing plastic from the ocean is difficult! Robots are expensive to build, deeply complicated custom-ass devices, they need constant maintenance, they need an army of engineers looking after them, they need to be recharged, they need to return to shore or a boat, they need to be checked for corrosion, they need to not accidentally get tangled in seaweed, these are all independently hard things.

It is difficult to get robots to perform simple, identical operations in a sanitized and controlled factory context, let alone The Ocean. The reason AI for text and images has taken off is because it's cheap and easy. It's just maths in the computer, no real world required, it is infinitely easier and cheaper to process terabytes of text than it is to make a simple robot arm work without human aid.

There's no mustache twirling capitalist going "ahahaha, I will use the infinite and trivially deployed power of TECHNOLOGY to solve poetry, and I shall not clean the oceans because I am literally a cartoon villain." If you believe this then you have a fundamentally flawed concept of what is easy and what is hard.

Any professional cyberneticist can tell you that making a physical robot do anything is a nightmare task, in fact, here's our very own cyberneticist going on an extended version of the rant I just did.

"A robot that cleans plastic in the ocean" isn't a simple design problem! It is as complicated as any other open ended free space navigation problem plus the difficulty of identifying an object which is literally named for its property of having any shape imaginable! These are not comparable classes of problem to "markov chain text generator times four hundred billion"

[rahonn]

Road to where?

Eustass Kid x male!original character

Modern AU

Word count: 10 430

Warnings: mentions of murder, kidnapping, robbery, dark thoughts, main character isn't a good human

______________________________________________

Headlights cut through the thick, oily darkness. The driver saw only as far as the machine would let him. Fog crawled up the road, curled between trunks of ancient trees. Woodland, cut in half by the hard, cold asphalt, seemed to try and absorb it. Slowly, the sides eroded, crumbling into nothingness with no one to maintain this stretch. Temperatures dropped suddenly, making wet road into skate ring for vehicles. One risky move and person would end up curled around the tree, becoming one with fog and nature, coming straight back to where they came from. This inky black night even moon didn’t dare to show her face.

But the driver, even though he had to move out of the way to let trucks pass him, was in relatively good mood. If you could even call it any sort of ‘good’. He just didn’t want to die that much. For now.

Nevertheless, he hummed along with music blasting from the speakers, bobbing his head a little. Maneuvering the average sized car on this road wasn’t an easy job, but since he drove through here multiple times every day, he knew where he could let himself speed up, where to be careful, because three potholes could sneak up on you any time.

Sighing heavy, he reached for can of energy drink propped up on his dashboard in makeshift cupholder. How many times did he have to cover Jessy’s shift now? Ten? Or was it over ten already? He didn’t really understand why old man Bob still let her work here. He should just fire her and get someone else to work in that forsaken shop. But no, it was too much to search, interview and then train new face. So there he was, after only three hours of sleep and on ungodly amount of caffeine, driving back to work to open the store. The store he closed not even 5 hours before.

Oh, how fun it would be to just get into an accident right about now, so he could get a little bit of rest. A guy without any dreams, living from paycheck to paycheck, living one day at the time in the middle of the woods, in a cabin that teenagers tried to break into, because it looked abandoned. Because who in their right mind would live there, miles from any civilization in every direction with elk, boars and wolves as their closest neighbors? Apparently, no one, because he was far from normal. At least in his head. He obeyed the societal rules, he played into the capitalistic nightmare of working to live and living to work. But if he had a chance, he would commit atrocious things. Deep in his house, hidden, buried under stacks and stacks of books, was his journal. Well, not really a journal. It was just old notebook he got when he entered university. It served as a memory of his bright years when he still had some hope for making it big, not having to work from duck till dawn just to afford a house, tattoos and cool things like a ship maybe. Those days, buried deep along with his notebook, birthed another side of him that he desperately tried to keep hidden. Dark, oily, just like the night around him. Entity that was a part of him, but also had its own identity. He could tell when it tried to take over, when it clawed at the walls to be let out, to get rid of those assholes that made fun of him, to just let loose. Not once did he let it go, so he really didn’t know what really was he capable of. But deep inside, where the beast resided, he felt he could really do anything. Only the fear of getting caught stopped him in any way.

The beast churned, poked by irritation arising in his heart when in first greyish rays of sunshine he saw the store come into view. Along with few assholes already yanking the handle. He peeked at the clock as he parked nearby. They knew damn well store shouldn’t be open for another half hour. But they still jiggled the handle, tried to open the door just to get another bottle of cheap vodka imported from East Europe in the back of those trucks he was passing, hidden in false tanks.

He put the headphones on, didn’t turn any music on though, and got out of the car. The sound of keys jingling acted like a bait, making starving hounds turn with foam dripping from their mouths.

“You’re late!” one of the locals yelled, still slurring his words. Not even those five hours ago he bought two bottles of cheapest wine, since they were out of vodka, and apparently drank it all already.

And he knew if Jess came instead of him, three alcoholic hounds would tear her to shreds with their snarky remarks and maybe even put their hands on her.

Suddenly, he felt bad for the girl. She wasn’t even 21 yet and her life seemed to end right about here where she was born. She had a child at 15 with her high school teacher who at the mention of pregnancy disappeared into thin air. She didn’t even finish the school and as a drop out, she couldn’t really find work outside the store she worked part time since she was in middle school. He understood why Bob still didn’t fire her, even though she often used her child as an excuse to get out of work. And everything fell right on his shoulders, because he didn’t have a family. He didn’t have anyone.

Drunks still yapped at him to open faster, but all it took was one look to shut them up. In silence he turned off the alarm, turned the keys and opened the door. One of the drunks tried to drab it and open it fully, but iron grip fell on his hand. Drunk man looked up and the wide, terrifying smile that never reached owner’s eyes and shivered.

“We’re open at 6am, gentlemen. In just thirty minutes” his icy cold tone almost froze entire area. Drunk let go of the door and watched as the clerk, still with smile on his face, turned keys in the lock from the inside while maintaining eye contact. They all bitched about ‘that fag with blue hair and pronouns that thought he’s better than anyone else just because he went to college’. But he didn’t hear them, putting heavy music on speakers to play throughout the store. If he had to work non-stop, he would work how it was comfortable to him. As long as the store was open and products were selling out, old man Bob didn’t have any complains anyway.

He didn’t even notice when the day passed. Suddenly there was his other colleague, Karen, walking through the door, already fifteen minutes late of course. At least she showed up, he thought, not even speaking one word to her. He closed his shift and logged out. With money in hand, he marched to the office in the back and opened the safe. He looked inside at the stacks of hundreds and twenties and fifties and he sighed. If he only could take it all, stuff it into his back pack and drive off. No one would notice until it was Karen’s turn to deposit all cash from the register. It meant he had nine hours to drive as far away from here as he could. It was an eternity to be honest, he could be anywhere by then.

But he just put his money on the pile in a plastic bag along with summary of his shift that register spit out and closed the safe. If he only let the beast take over for once in his life.

As he walked out of the shop, it was already dark outside. He sighed again. That’s what he signed up for when he decided to move to the middle of nowhere in northern part of USA, but he thought then that he’d work in a lab, maybe in coroner’s office, leading exciting life, not being spit on by drunks that blacked out again right outside their door.

Turning his car around to go back into his home, vast forest denser than he was, he looked at the fog rolling down the mountains in last rays of setting sun. If he hurried up he could… He could what? Lay in his bed longer or stare blankly on empty word doc on his laptop, unable to write a single sentence? No, he had all the time in his life to drive back home. His old, beat-up Mercedes from 1983, still in perfect condition, couldn’t really drive fast anyway if anyone asked. He had to hide the fact he made some changes, that he learned how to work that car like a magician to drive fast and crazy. Just in case. Just in case the universe wanted to give him one last chance to live freely.

Slight movement on his right up ahead made him slow down a little. It wasn’t uncommon for him to encounter wildlife, not in those parts, so when large antlers came into view, he stopped completely. Huge majestic elk stepped on the crumbling asphalt as if he was king of the world. In a sense, he really was. The driver sighed deeply, envious of the animal, of its freedom to roam the woods like this without being accused of trespassing immediately. He imagined, with smile stretching his lips, running down the hills at high speed, narrowly missing trees, feeling the air trying to push him back. Lost in his own world, he didn’t see another movement, this time behind him. Something ran towards his car, like a bullet, aiming straight into his so-called peaceful life.

He jumped, hearing back door open. Tearing his eyes away from the elk disappearing between the trees, he whipped his head to the back, just to feel freezing metal on his cheek. The door closed loud, but it didn’t drown out the panting and grunting coming from behind his seat.

Living out in the middle of the woods taught him many things. One of them was the fact that anything could be used as a weapon. But he never saw the muzzle from this side, at least not until that very second.

“Drive” gruff voice, deep, rumbling, almost making his bones vibrate, spoke up. As if the god of the forest just materialized on his back seat. “I said” he heard the god shift a bit, hissing through his teeth. “Drive. And don’t talk.”

He just turned around, eyes locked on the road and put the car into first gear, then second, slowly accelerating. His eyes didn’t even try to move to rearview mirror, yet he instinctively knew someone was following this god on the backseat. “Where to?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly as he tried to keep the car from sliding on icy road.

“I’ll tell you, now shut up” the voice sounded angry, so he did as he was told. He kept the music on, not wanting to make any sudden moves.

When he heard police sirens, he sighed deeply. “They’re looking for you?” he asked quietly, not expecting an answer, maybe just the sound of gun being raised to blow his brains out. But it didn’t happen, the god in the backseat cursed, trying to slide off so he wasn’t visible through the window.

As always when he heard police, he slowed down and pulled to the side of the road, letting the car just roll on its own. “Drive!” the voice yelled, he felt muzzle touch the back of his neck, but he knew damn well what he was doing.

“They know my car, if I speed up suddenly, they would stop me, because I just don’t drive like that and it would be suspicious” he explained quickly, completely taking foot off the gas. He heard the god curse under his breath as the flashing blue and red lights came closer with each second.

“If they pull behind us, I’m putting a bullet in your head.”

“Deal” he almost laughed, because he knew old man Bob’s son would never stop. Not for him. The guy made it his mission to never speak to him if he could help it. He could drift in the middle of the road right in front of the cop’s car and only would get disappointed look from behind windshield.

And he was right, cop car blew past them, honking once as a greeting, common thing around here. He honked back quickly and watched as the lights disappeared between the trees. He looked around to see if any trucks were approaching and when he didn’t see anything, he sped up suddenly, turning the car in the opposite direction. “What the fuck are you doing!?” the god screamed. He heard it grunt in pain. Like wounded animal baring its teeth, the god raised its gun. “Where are you going?” the hiss popped up a lot closer than he expected.

“I’m getting some money” he said flatly, speeding up quickly. Third gear, fourth, fifth. And finally sixth. What should be twenty-minute drive, turned into just five when he pulled into parking lot of the grocery store he worked at. For the first time he turned around to see glowing red eyes and muzzle pointed at him. “There’s a blanket under the backseat, cover yourself. I’ll be back in a second” he informed the god and got out of the car with backpack in his hand. Trying his hardest to hide the smile, he opened the door. With voice shaking slightly, eyes darting from one place to the other quickly, he laughed nervously. “Hey, Karen. I forgot my phone in the office” he ran fingers through his hair and walking fast past the register. Karen looked up at him, raising both eyebrows at his behavior, but she just shrugged in the end and went back to scrolling through social media.

He had his doubts about all this. Opening safe as quietly as he could, he thought about what he could buy if it all turned out fine. But what if the god ran off, leaving him with all the consequences? He shook his head and put as much bundles of hundreds as he could without making backpack looking like a balloon. He closed the safe, took phone out of his pocket and walked out of the office just as quick as he walked in. With nervous smile he raised it victoriously. “Got it” he laughed to Karen who just started ringing up one of the assholes from this morning.

Quick decision. He could sock the drunk in his teeth, but he wouldn’t have anything for his own defense later, so he just ignored it all. Opening the door and walking out into black night, he inhaled deeply, letting the smile light up his face. Suddenly whole world looked brighter, colors popped like never before. Not changing his walk for a second, shuffling a bit when he felt like skipping, he approached his car. He threw the backpack on passenger seat and jumped in, starting the car.

Looking in the rearview mirror to turn the car around in one swift motion, he saw red eyes staring straight at him. “So where to now, boss?” he asked, kicking the gas pedal to the floor. Old car roared, speeding through small town. The god was silent. “I’m Vis by the way.”

“Why?” the god asked suddenly, groaning slightly.

Vis raised his eyebrows. “Why what?” he turned the wheel and pulled handbrake, drifting into lesser-known road leading straight back to his house. He straightened the wheels, disengaged handbrake and floored it again.

“Why did you come back?” the god spoke up again, sounding suspicious.

Vis giggled. “If you think I called the cops or something, why didn’t you run?” he asked, swerving a bit for fun. He heard god grunt again after rough turn. Vis’ eyes shot wide open. “You’re injured.”

“Still can kill you, motherfucker” the god said with dangerous glint in his eyes. Vis nodded and shrugged.

“Sure, but I don’t think you’d drive far in my car by yourself. First, you don’t know how to work it. Second, all people in hundred-mile radius know my car and if they saw you driving it, they’d know something happened to me.”

Silence enveloped the car with only music and engine making any sounds. Vis didn’t get any instructions from the god, so he just drove out to the middle of the woods, the one place he knew no one frequented. And he turned engine off again. “What now?” god groaned, pressing down harder on the blanket covering his thigh. Vis turned to him suddenly, meeting the gun once again.

“Will you be okay for another fifteen minutes?” he asked, motioning at the injured leg. God didn’t respond, so Vis took it as a yes. “I’ll be right back” he said, grabbing his backpack and without any light he stepped into the night.

God shivered slightly. This guy was seriously unwell. Anyone else would be already on their knees begging to be let go to their family, pleading for him to just take their car and leave them alone. No, this one went to the store, came back and drove him out to the middle of nowhere. But it was infinitely better than some whiny bitch, because this Vis was right, he wouldn’t be able to drive manual right now. Automatic car sure, but not manual.

Damn, where was this crazy fucker? He felt more shivers crawling up his skin like a horde of ants and he knew from experience it was bad. Feeling extremely tired, he fought to keep his consciousness. He was on the run for so long, he forgot when he had full five hours of uninterrupted sleep. Not that it mattered, he wouldn’t be able to get it a bit longer than he expected.

Driver’s door opened suddenly and Vis jumped in, backpack still in his hand. “We’ll go to my house for a bit, patch you up and we have to run quickly. We only have seven hours to put some distance and lose the hounds” he rambled, starting the car and peeling off again. “What’s your name, by the way?”

God looked at the driver in rearview mirror. He should ignore him, remind him who was the boss here. But he felt so fucking tired and this guy wasn’t even scared, what’s more Vis planned to help him. Maybe he could relax for just a few hours.

“Kidd” he found himself spilling the beans, still staring at the guy. Vis looked into the mirror too, their eyes met and he smiled.

“Nice to meet you then.”

Not even ten minutes later Vis parked the car in front of log cabin. He jumped out and skipped to throw back door open. Kidd pointed gun at him instinctively and they looked at each other for a second. Vis sighed deep. “Sorry, I wanted to help you walk inside” he explained. Weapon was lowered, but stayed in Kidd’s hand. With his other hand, the god tried to put his injured leg out of the car, but his grip slipped resulting in wound hitting edge of the seat again.

Kidd almost yelled in pain, but years of enduring shit like this made him only grit his teeth harder. Vis moved slowly to help him move and he let him, giving up for now. He knew he wouldn’t do much in this state anyway, his only advantage was the gun in his hand which already started cramping.

Vis’ knees buckled a bit when Kidd stumbled, but somehow, they managed to stay upright. He took the key out of his pocket and turned it in the lock, kicking the door open. They wouldn’t fit in the narrow corridor, Vis knew that well, so he instructed Kidd to get behind him and put his hand on his shoulder, to use him like oversized cane essentially. By some miracle they managed to wobble their way to the living room and Vis grabbed Kidd’s arms to help him sit down slowly on the couch. Quickly he turned the light on and ran back to the car to get his backpack. As soon as he came back, he ran straight to the bathroom. He knew damn well Kidd wouldn’t be able to walk more, so he grabbed all the things he needed and went back to the living room, almost kissing the floor few times, tripping on books and clothes.

“Okay, take your pants off” he sighed finally, pushing everything off the coffee table and dumping first aid kit on it. Kidd looked at him weird. Vis finally had the time to look at his god more and damn, there were things to look at. The guy was huge, muscles almost made his clothes bust in the seams. And he had scarlet hair, crimson eyes.

And Vis just told him to drop his pants. Sure, it was completely normal.

“I can’t take care of your wound if you don’t take your jeans off, Kidd” Vis sighed, propping hands on his hips. Highly dangerous and bloodied guy that basically kidnapped him with gun in hand just shrugged and unbuckled his belt with one hand, working on the button quickly.

Hot damn. What a show.

But as soon as it came to actually taking of clothing, Vis had to help. He grabbed blood-soaked material and pulled it slowly off of the skin. He saw where main injury was, it was really hard to miss, but he had to go slowly as to not cause any more damage. Sticky, warm substance stained his own clothes, but he didn’t care.

He really wanted to lick the blood off. He could gobble up whole thigh actually, feeling the urge to bite it as he worked on getting material over the wound. Finally, after much hissing and cursing from Kidd, he got the pants over the injury and down to his ankles. Working quick, he handed Kidd bottle of rubbing alcohol. God just looked at him weird, Vis was sure he wasn’t all there from all the pain he just endured.

“You have to pour it on my hands on this side” he pointed edge of the couch far from the wound. Kidd just grabbed the bottle and did what Vis said. “I don’t have gloves or any anesthetic, sorry” he whispered, threading fishing line through curved needle. When he looked at Kidd to get confirmation that he was fine with it, he saw the god stuffing his mouth with nearby cloth, from the color Vis realized this was his shirt. He just nodded, their eyes met and he knew it wasn’t Kidd’s first rodeo. “Just keep your hands to yourself, okay? No grabbing my hands, I have to stitch you up” he explained, kneeling next to Kidd’s legs. He looked up to see his god crossing arms on his chest and nodding once. He was ready.

With much grunting and tensing, and clenching, Vis worked as fast as he could on the injury. Thankfully the wound wasn’t that deep, only irritated so much it felt and seemed much worse at first. It took only thirty minutes to tie two pieces of skin together, but to Kidd it had to feel like an eternity. As soon as Vis started cleaning all the blood that poured out during stitching, Kidd spit out the shirt. His face almost matched his hair, Vis knew he probably was feverish from the pain, so he abandoned cleaning and ran to get some pain meds. He gave his god a bit over max dose of ibuprofen since the guy was huge and also suffering. He helped Kidd drink some water and went back to cleaning his tender leg. It was hard, especially because the juicy thigh sang to him love songs, begging for him to take a bite out of it. But he resisted unholy temptation and put sterile gauze over the stitches, making Kidd almost jump. Vis grabbed his knee to keep the leg in place, because every quick movement was a danger to freshly patched up wound. “I have to cover them if we want to go soon. It’s too cold to go out without any pants on and material would only irritate the injury more” he explained, looking straight into red eyes burning with fury. He held Kidd’s gaze until god relented and nodded. “I only try to help you, remember that” Vis lied, his voice as soft as he could manage without cracking.

Oh, he was an awful human being, he knew that well. He could feel the notebook full of his desires burning under the pile of books. He had to get rid of it before they go. He had to pretend to be normal if he wanted his plan to work out.

“I’ll go grab some things, find some pants for you. We have to hurry up a bit” he whispered, standing up quickly. Good, now he had excuse to make some ruckus in his bedroom.

Digging in the pile of books, he looked frantically around for that one, brown notebook. Piece of his soul that should burn in hell for the eternity. It shone through like a beacon in the night, peeking out from between two other, much bigger books. He grabbed it and threw it into his backpack as if it burned him to the point of meat falling right off his bones. Along with some of his underwear, he packed two shirts, one bigger than the other. He stopped in front of the wardrobe and looked down. The pants he was wearing were the biggest he had. With a sigh, he tugged loose, soft material off his body and put on smaller, almost skintight pair. He winced at the sight, but it was only clean pair left.

Finally, he ran down the stairs with his backpack and additional, bigger bag. He threw there more gauzes, bottle of rubbing alcohol, more things he deemed necessary from first aid kit and some food, mostly cookies and chips. All baggage found itself in the trunk before Vis ran back into the house to find Kidd pulling up the pants, almost ready to go. Ibuprofen seemed to work a bit, because god moved around without even hissing once. But he also moved a bit sluggish, so Vis wrapped muscular arm around his own neck and helped Kidd limp his way to the car, the whole time resisting biting into deliciously looking flesh right next to his nose.

He looked at Kidd trying to find comfortable position to sit in in the backseat and thought for a second. He went back into the house, grabbed two pillows and fresh blanket and came back. Watching Kidd was entertaining, especially when drugs started to take away his ability to move in a way he wanted to. But he knew they had to go, so he handed Kidd the pillows and instructed him to lay across the seats with his leg stretched and straight. Not even fifteen minutes later, Vis drove out on the beat-up road leading to interstate, waving goodbye to his peaceful life with middle fingers up high. At least for now.

Five hours to the end of Karen’s shift.

Vis took a lot of backroads, not really knowing why Kidd was running away or how extensive the search for him was. He knew he only had few hours to drive away as far as he could before Karen realizes there was cash missing from the safe. To be honest, he didn’t know if Bob would even call the police on him or would he try to contact him at first. Maybe they had even more time than he thought. Bob wasn’t the one to contact his son either, they weren’t really on speaking terms, so there was a possibility that owner of the shop Vis worked at would call him first. When Vis wouldn’t answer first few times, Bob would probably drive out to his house to talk face to face about missing cash. Vis smiled at the thought of his employer knocking on his front door with trusty flashlight in hand and looking around, just to find little slip of paper by the doormat with little ‘help’ scribbled on it.

Vis liked to think Bob would get massive heart attack and die right there in the doorway. It would buy them even more time. Maybe, just maybe, he could escape to Europe somehow. But at first, he had to take care of his god for a while longer.

“Kidd, hey, wake up” he whispered, carefully touching sleeping god from safe distance just in case he woke up and decided to attack. But apparently drugs didn’t wear off yet and Kidd grumbled something under his breath, cracking open one eye, searching for the source of noise. Vis smiled. Nice. “I got us a motel room, you can sleep in bed.”

Complaining incoherently, Kidd let Vis lead himself to the room. He could barely stand, the exhaustion from the last few sleepless days and pain draining him from the remaining energy took a toll on him. Vis helped him take his clothes off, checked if the gauze was still in place and finally let him lay down. Somehow, stuffy blanket found its way around his body just the way he wanted it to and Kidd felt the rest of his consciousness leave him.

Vis looked at his sleeping god and smiled. Quietly he put on his shoes and went back to the car to get their things. His cheeks hurt, not used to smiling so much, but when he crouched between the trees on the other side of the road with lit match right under his notebook, he couldn’t stop grinning. Orange and blue flames licked plastic cover, pages hissed, turning black and crumbling to the ground. He observed destruction of his secrets calmly as if he sat in front of the bonfire waiting for his friends to come and join him. Years and years of writing down every little thing he thought wasn’t normal about the way he was, dreams and plans for dealing with people who wronged him and detailed notes of most bizarre crimes he heard about. All of it ceased to exist, leaving behind only small pile of white and grey ashes. With a deep sigh he got up and looked up at the night sky. Not wanting to waste any more time he put the hem of his shirt in his mouth and faced the tree, leaning back a bit. As soon as his head made contact with rough bark, white letters appeared in his brain.

Phase two.

Pulsating, dull pain woke him up. Vis opened eyelids with difficulty, immediately noticing he only could see right through his right eye. Maybe he went overboard a bit.

“Wakey, wakey, fucker” he heard low voice from just across his bed. Trying to sit up when his head felt like a ball of solid iron presented bigger issue than he thought, but he finally managed to do it. “The fuck happened to your face?” he heard Kidd more than he saw him, but when he closed left eye, fog lessened, shapes appeared, contours sharpened.

“I hit the trunk yesterday when I went to get bag from the car” he mumbled, every move and noise sent sharp icicle of pain down his spinal cord. He had to ignore it the best he could for now. “How’s your leg?” Vis asked, his eyesight slowly returning to normal or at least the closest it was possible to come back to. And the first thing he saw clearly was the gun in Kidd’s hand laying on his healthy thigh.

“I am the one asking questions here, dumbass” god growled, baring his teeth like an angry animal. He had every right to act like that. He was hurt, stranger he literally kidnapped took care of his wounds and acted as if it was natural, everyday occurrence. Everyone would be suspicious in this situation. “Here’s how it’s going to go. I tell you what to do, not the other way around. I fucking tell you where and when to go, I tell you when to talk, I tell you how to breathe and you’re going to listen” the tone, low and deadly serious, conveyed more than the words alone. If Vis went against anything Kidd said, he’d be disposed of.

Vis nodded calmly and stretched a bit, grimacing at sudden pang of stronger pain throbbing just above his left eye. Slowly he lifted left eyelid, with sigh of relief noticing his sight getting better.

“Focus, fucker” Kidd snapped fingers at him and he obeyed, staring right at redhaired god. He couldn’t help but notice how the gauze lifted on one side, dried blood visible through it. “Why did you help me?”

Vis blinked, coming back to reality. He knew the topic would come out eventually, but he didn’t know it’d be so soon. “It’s in my nature to help people in need” he shrugged carefully.

“Bullshit” Kidd growled, cocking the gun.

“Okay, okay” Vis raised his hands, sighing deeply. “I really wanted to leave that life behind and this is the opportunity for me, okay? I just want go do something more than work my life away.”

“And that includes sucking off fugitives? Don’t fuck with me” Kidd raised his hand, holding Vis at the gunpoint. “You’re too calm to be simple clerk. Who the fuck are you?”

Vis grimaced. “You heard about me?”

“I’m not alone in this shit, my plug researched a bit when you got your beauty-sleep. My people are coming to get me. Until that time, I’m going to use you however I please” Kidd smirked, his hand not moving even a little. Vis nodded again. Soon he wouldn’t need Kidd anyway.

“Yeah, so your plug couldn’t find anything on me, right? Because there’s nothing to find” he said emotionlessly, staring straight into those red eyes that seemed to pull him in. “I’m just another worker who waited all his life for a chance to maybe turn it all around, change something. That’s all.”

Kidd stopped smiling halfway through his little speech, he put the gun down on his lap, but never let it go. “So, because you led boring life, you decided to not turn me in when you had a chance? That’s it? And you think I’ll fucking believe it?” he cackled quietly, but there was no humor in his laugh. “You could run away when you went to that damn store, when you went into that fucking forest, you could call pigs when I sat on your dusty fucking couch, you could drive me straight to jail when I passed out on your backseat. And all of that because you’re bored? You’re fucking nuts, crazy motherfucker.”

“What else do you want me to say? That I have some bigger plan or something?” Vis raised his voice a little. Immediately he got warning look from Kidd, who gripped the gun harder. “How could I know you’d get into my car? I wouldn’t be able to plan everything so quickly. Going along with all this” he motioned the motel around him and pointed at the gun. “This is the best I can do to ensure you or anyone who works with you wouldn’t kill me if anything happened to you.”

“So there’s more than just wanting to change your poor boring life.”

Vis sighed again. “Yes, of course there is more. I couldn’t risk you bleeding out in my car if I didn’t know if you’re alone or if you work with anyone. The best course of action is to go with the flow” he folded arms on his chest and looked at the clock standing on bedside table. 9am. Karen probably contacted Bob already, Bob tried to contact him many times. There was a chance he already went to his house and found the small paper he left.

But he wouldn’t know any of that since he left his phone between books in his room.

Kidd stayed silent for a second, digesting everything he learned. Sure, it was logical explanation and this weirdly calm and nonchalant guy was definitely better than some sloppy crybaby whining about their family and how he could let them go and they wouldn’t tell anyone. Finally, he found someone thinking with their brain and not emotions. This guy could be useful.

“Sure, I can work with that” Kidd decided suddenly, relaxing in his armchair. “Where are we?”

“I have no idea” Vis shrugged, earning another frown. “What? If even we don’t know where we are, cops probably don’t know either. I chose random backroads, basically playing quick rock, paper, scissors at any crossroad.”

God nodded, knowing it made sense. Somehow this random guy he stumbled upon knew what he was doing. And it was even weirder than the whole explanation why he helped some bloodied stranger with a gun. Nevertheless, he had to think what to do now. He already contacted Killer about abandoning their posts, because someone snitched and he almost got caught the day before. Squad was on their way to pick him up, but they couldn’t stay in this motel for long. There was always a possibility police caught a whiff of them and already were on their way.

He twitched, instinctively raising the gun when from the corner of his eye he saw slight movement. Vis froze with one leg on the floor and slowly raised his hands up. “I just want to pee” he explained slowly. Kidd nodded, pointing the gun towards the bathroom. “Thank you. I’ll also freshen up a bit and come to check out your wound.” He took clean underwear and a shirt from the bag and waddled away, swaying slightly.

Damn, he hit his head a little too hard.

Just like he promised, as soon as Vis got out of the bathroom, he prepared makeshift infirmary on the bedside table. Kidd moved quietly, a bit too quiet for someone so big and with injured leg on top of that, so when he suddenly appeared next to Vis, he jumped back, almost falling back on the bed. God grabbed his hand instinctively and pulled. A bit too hard. Kidd was always a bit too much in everything so it wasn’t at all surprising that Vis hit his massive chest with muffled groan. Kidd sat down on the bed sideways and watched as this weirdly calm guy finally cracked. His face grew red, eyes darted around nervously. But his hands didn’t shake even once when he took off wound’s dressing or when he cleaned all the blood and puss around it. He checked and double checked if the stiches weren’t loose or stretching. No, everything was okay, so he put on clean dressing and looked up with a smile.

“Done, boss” he got up and stretched a bit, wincing when headache intensified for a few seconds. “I’m going to get us something for breakfast. What do you want?” he asked, rummaging through his backpack and pulling out hundred-dollar bill. But Kidd snorted at that.

“We don’t have the time to sit around. Get my pants and we’re off.”

Vis nodded, pulling out bigger clean shirt he took from his house and along with his pants he handed it to his god. With Kidd bitching about not having stable place to hide his gun since the pants he got were made from elastic material, he walked out of the room. Not even checking out of the room, they packed everything and themselves to the car and drove off.

“I rented it for three days, so it’s another ruse for the popo” Vis explained, obeying every possible traffic law there was to minimalize the possibility of being pulled over. He needed a little bit more time. Just a day or two. “Hey, do you think you could teach me some tricks or something?” he asked to fill the silence.

“And what else? Am I a fucking magician? This isn’t a Make a Wish, dumbass” Kidd barked quickly, tapping on his phone and putting it to his ear. “Yeah, we’re on a move” he fell silent for a second, listening to whoever was on the other end. “What do you need to get out location? No, I can’t tell you where we are. That’d require us driving into the town. Where the cameras are. And cops. Think a little, Heat” he sighed, squeezing and relaxing his hand. Vis realized what he was doing instantly. Anger control. This guy had similar issues. “Yeah, I can give you that much, I think. Hey” he turned to Vis. “Give me your number.”

“It’s useless” Vis replied without as much as a thought behind his eyes. “I left it at home, so your guys would drive straight to where local police already went.” He turned onto small, gravel road and put the car in higher gear, immediately speeding up.

Kidd cursed loud. “And why did you do that?”

Vis raised his eyebrows, peeking at Kidd for a second. “Because cops could use it to find us.”

 God just stared at him. No emotions, no response. Even when this Heat guy asked rather loudly if everything was alright, Kidd stayed silent. Damn it. Vis cursed internally. One time. All it took was one sentence for him to fumble his chances of new life.

“I’m putting you on speaker, because you just have to hear that bullshit” Kidd finally spoke up and pressed the button. “Is Killer nearby?”

“I’m here, what’s up?”

“Listen to this” Kidd’s voice was void of any emotion now and Vis didn’t know if it was a good or really, really bad sign. “The guy I get a ride from not only patched me up and drove us to fuck knows where using only backroads by playing damn child’s rhymes or some shit. No, get this. He also left his phone at home. In case cops wanted to find him that way.”

The silence was deafening.

“You didn’t want to be found, did you?” Kidd barked, squeezing his fist as hard as he could. “You fucking have some plan in your damn sleeve! What is your fucking goal, motherfucker!?”

Vis remained quiet, eyes glued to the road. But his face wasn’t relaxed anymore. It wasn’t relaxed for the longest time. Mask fell, shattering into million pieces.

“Better have some damn good explanation for that. Boss isn’t known for letting liars go” voice popped up from the phone, probably Killer.

But it was over. They knew. Damn, if they didn’t ask for his phone, he could play good, logically thinking person who just wanted to survive. And now he probably should tell them everything, that was the only way to stay alive in arising situation. Especially when the god he drove around was just a guy with huge anger issues. And a boss of some crime organization.

And on top of that, he already cocked the gun and was ready to shoot.

“If you do that, we’ll crash and you won’t see the light of day ever again” Vis said calmly, speeding up. Truck was coming up to the intersection they also approached. But if he slowed down, Kidd could pull the trigger. The faster he was going, the less chance of that happening was there. “I’m already going almost 100 miles per hour, so better think before shooting.”

“Stop the fucking car! You’re going to hit that fucking truck!” Kidd’s voice raised an octave or two. Hilarious honestly. Vis smirked at him and winked.

“Oh, am I?” he asked, hitting the gas. Truck’s horn blared for full ten seconds when the driver saw car approaching fast, too fast to stop in time. But the car he worked on in his spare time never let him down before.

Kidd stared at bright lights in his window as they flew right in front of truck’s nose.

Vis didn’t even react. Sure, he slowed down a bit, but not as much as Kidd would like to. “Kidd! What’s happening!?” his underlings were screaming one over the other, trying to get their boss to talk.

“Motherfucker made it” god just replied, still in shock. “He’s crazy. I got a lift from a complete fucking psycho.”

Vis gave him a side eye, relaxing completely on his seat. “Oh, don’t flatter me, Kiddo. I’m not that crazy. But” small smile bloomed on his face. His real face, not the mask he sculpted throughout the years with immense precision. “But if I tell you everything, you’ll probably kill me in the end. If I don’t tell you anything, you’ll kill me as soon as I slow down.”

“I’ll decide if I want to kill you after I hear about that fucking master plan of yours” Kidd replied, genuinely curious now.

Vis nodded, deciding to turn on the nearest interstate to have more room to navigate the car. “So, from the top. As soon as you entered the car and pointed the gun at me, I knew what I could do. I could beg for my life and completely flip off, but you’d probably kill me right then and there. I also could use you” he heard Kidd inhale sharply, but before he could even open his mouth, Vis raised his hand. “Let me finish, roads aren’t endless, I’ll have to slow down eventually and there is a possibility you’d shoot me. Okay, so I decided to use you. That’s why I went to that store. I work there and the owner leaves large amounts of cash in the safe. I took a lot. Like a lot. Bundles of hundred-dollar bills. Stacks. And when I got back to the car where you still were, I knew everything would go according to my plan. I went to the forest to hide most of the money I took. When I saw what shape you were in, I knew I had to keep you alive and conscious for my plan to work. That’s why I cleaned and patched you up. But I also left behind my phone and slip of paper at my front door with ‘help’ written on it in shaky handwriting. Because, you know, you kidnapped me, forced me to rob my workplace and then forced me to drive you somewhere. Even though you fell asleep as soon as I started the car” Vis giggled quietly, finally seeing the interstate. “Yeah, so I wanted to basically let them catch us, tell them you forced me to do all those things, like robberies, murder and torture, cannibalism maybe, and the least I could do was to hide the money of my dear employer.”

“Murder? And what fucking cannibalism?” Kidd growled, feeling as if someone poured bucket of cold water over his head.

“Oh, chill, I didn’t get to do it since you caught on so quickly. I just wanted to do it and then basically get away with it by blaming you, the bad guy with a gun. Anyway, I orchestrated everything so it’d look like I was held hostage as your driver, because of your messed up leg. In the end, I know dear Bob would be so grateful I rescued most of his money, he’d give me some of it. I would then act as if I had PTSD and had to move from there to heal. With the rest of the money of course. That’s it. What’s the verdict, judge?” Vis sighed, blowing past yet another car on the interstate. The worst thing was that there could be more cops than they would realize. But it didn’t matter anyway, Vis’ chance at experiencing the life he wanted already disappeared.

Kidd still held the phone up so his squad could hear everything. They talked amongst each other, but their boss stayed silent. He just pressed another button and put the phone back to his ear. “What do you think? Is Wire there? What’s up with that?”

Oh, so the council will decide his fate. Vis sighed, only waiting for blue and red lights to suddenly start flashing right behind them. Until then, he had to push his dear car to the points where it didn’t venture for the longest time.

Kidd mumbled something a few times, nodding once, then twice. He hummed low, amused suddenly. Vis raised his eyebrows at this.

“And the eye?” Kidd finally asked, looking straight at him. Vis clicked his tongue. Fuck him and his observation skills, honestly.

“I smashed my face against the tree to try and sell it as if you forced me with violence to do whatever. I planned to make bruises on my wrists also. And somewhere on my torso. To make it more believable.”

Kidd hummed again. “Yeah, I think so too. You still have that passport, right? Good. You’ll know where to get me, I’ll make sure of it. Later” he cut the call short and sighed. “You can slow down, we’re doing your plan.”

It was honestly the first time Vis felt even a little bit of shock in a few years.

“Only if you give us more than half of your money.”

Oh, of course.

“Or you join us along with your money and we could easily triple it in less than a year.”

Vis opened his eyes wider. “The fuck? You think I’ll believe you’d just let me join your little crime ring? After I almost put you in prison for bunch of serious crimes?”

“That’s exactly why. Your plan was good, you think outside the box, you can act quickly and make fucking wicked decisions. You don’t loose your cool even if you’re held at gunpoint. You can lie and you’re pretty fucking good at playing normal. And you have the money” Kidd shrugged. “My guys can break me out of jail in no time, there’s nothing they could prove anyway.”

“According to my plan, I would be a key witness” Vis said, voice strained. But he slowed down a bit.

Kidd grinned. “Yeah, but if I disappear and you’ll move away, what case will they have against any of us?”

Vis laughed, truly laughed with his belly and everything, for the first time in few good years. He looked around, searching for undercover cop cars, but he didn’t see any. “So, we’re going to town then” he decided, taking nearest exit. Before they drove in, Vis stopped the car behind some bushes and rolled his sleeves up. “Here” he presented his arms to Kidd. Without a word, god grabbed his wrists and squeezed as hard as he could, holding for a few longer seconds. Vis hissed, feeling all the blood flow getting cut off.

“Pussy” Kidd mumbled with a smirk.

“No, just horny” Vis winked at him, making Kidd blink in shock. “Yeah, you’re cute, actually” he laughed. God let go of his hand and punched him straight in the ribs. Vis groaned, when another jab landed near his sternum. “Don’t be a homophobe, Kiddo” he hissed, massaging tender places on his chest, but Kidd just shrugged.

“You’re not that bad looking either, but we have to sell this as believable, right?” god chuckled, pulling his gun out and laying it on his lap. “Let’s go. But please, remember me.”

Not even fifteen minutes later, Vis jumped out of the vehicle with furious Kidd yelling after him and fumbling to get his gun. Officers pulled their guns faster, though, so Kidd just sighed and yelled that he gave up.

Everything else went according to the plan. Vis was taken care of and transported back to his hometown, where he paraded as a hero for getting away alive and with large part of the money. He was grilled for hours by Bob’s own son who hated Vis. And Vis gave his all to act confused as to why were they even holding him there when all he wanted was to go and sleep all the emotions off. But Bob’s son was sharper than Vis anticipated and asked about why he didn’t call them or mentioned anything to Karen when he walked to and from the office. There wasn’t anyone with him or near him then.

“I can’t tell you why I didn’t do anything then. It all happened too fast. I thought if I go along with him, I could save myself, since he knew where I lived, and Bob’s money. If I didn’t do it, he could come into the store and kill Karen and me, and take the money anyway, right?” Vis sniffled a bit to seem more believable. Assholes didn’t even let him shower before sitting him down in cold, silver interrogation room.

He didn’t know if his theatrical abilities would be enough, he didn’t have any prior experiences like that. But even if Bob’s son was sharp, his colleagues and even sheriff weren’t. They all let him feed them lie after lie and they even praised him for it in the end. When they finally cleared him from all suspicions, he was transported to nearest clinic where nurse, regular client in the store he worked at, almost started to cry after seeing the bruises. She cooed at him, showering him with praises and ‘if you need anything’s. He honestly wanted to laugh in her face and tell her to fuck the wide side of a broom. But he held it together, his grimaces perceived as pain and bad memories coming back to him.

Just like he thought, Bob awarded him with rather large sum of money, a bit pressured by the townsfolk who even chipped in to give him a bit more cash with a note ‘for a new car, hero’, because his vehicle probably brought forward those awful two days.

Vis endured another two weeks of that, getting more and more annoyed. Every time he left the house, someone stopped him, wanted to talk, offer their help. And he played along, but always said the same thing – he just needed some time. As soon as his eye healed a bit, he went back to work, not caring about weird looks and subtle questions if he didn’t want to change work. He always smiled slightly and said that he loved that job, he protected the money with his life, so there was no way he’d leave so suddenly. But he started to act more erratic, he became jumpy, twitchy. Few people told him it was best he took vacation somewhere far away, some even started to tell him to move from there. With a sigh of relief, he agreed. Yes, maybe he should start thinking about going back to his parents, at least for a little bit.

But he had to wait just a little bit longer.

During one of his usual walks through the forest, he went back to that unused road. He searched for a bit, picking up some of the pinecones and rocks, and putting them in his backpack. Just in case someone was watching, he pretended to drop his phone into small hole. He cursed loud, but not too loud, and dropped to his knees. If anyone looked at him from behind, they’d think he was trying to grab important device, maybe cleaned it off. In reality, he stuffed remainder of the plastic-covered money into his backpack. Mumbling under his breath about ‘hoping the damn phone didn’t get water damage’, he got up and pretended to lose all interest in walking around.

Days and weeks passed, and he started to worry. Maybe Kidd’s crew wasn’t able to get him out or worse, they just decided to leave him on the whim. And he didn’t know how long he could act all scared and traumatized without turning it into overdramatic caricature. Once, he was close to busting into full blown laughter when regular customer asked if he needed maybe some help at home, because she heard from Bob’s son his living situation was a mess. Sure, he knew they searched his home from top to bottom, but he didn’t think they’d spread rumors about the mess he had there. Other regular asked if he didn’t want to maybe get rid of his car, since he bought another one. Vis almost spit in his face. Sure, he got old trash that barely worked, but it was just cover up, a thing to please townsfolk who gave him money to replace the source of his trauma. His pride and joy stood under the tilt, waiting for the day Vis could spread his wings and do what he was made for. Truly, he was concerned about his ability to prolong the act. He didn’t even know how they’d contact him to get ready. Would they call? Or maybe just drop by, telling him to just grab essential things? But then everyone would think he was kidnapped again and would search for him again. No, he needed to put them all at ease, tell them he went back to his parents, thank them for everything.

That’s why when he found slip of paper in his mailbox with ‘One week’ written on it, he almost pissed himself with excitement. That same day he called Bob and told him he’d move back home after all. He couldn’t even cover it up anymore, everyone saw he regained some pep in his step, smiled more easily. They commented on it and when he nodded one time and said he finally talked with his parents, allowing them to convince him to come back. Congratulations and ‘wish you well’s dropped from everywhere around him. Some people that came around the store brought bottles of whisky and wine, and left it for him to take, saying he would be missed. He wanted to say he would certainly be happier away from here and he couldn’t really care less if he was missed.

But the one week mark came and went, and no one came to him. He stayed up all night, waiting for any sign with all bags and boxes packed tightly into his old Mercedes. Finally, when 4am rolled around, he went to bed, feeling betrayed. Metal gates closed right in front of his nose, better life waved him goodbye and laughed at his tears.

Whole next day he sat on the couch, not moving, just existing in mostly empty space. He already thought about what to say to all the people who’d realize he didn’t move. Damn, maybe he should just get in the car and start driving. He had enough money to settle down somewhere. But that’s the thing, he didn’t want to settle down. He didn’t want to live by the book, he didn’t want to pretend he was normal anymore. Those two days he spent with Kidd three months before were the best days of his life. He finally got to be himself with possibilities stretching beyond horizon. Suddenly he was all alone again and he wouldn’t live for long as a free man if he started doing all the things he wanted to do without help. Munching on last piece of bread from his pantry, he decided. As soon as he woke up the next day, he would just drive. Anywhere. And where his car would run out of gas, there he would live for the rest of his life.

His eyes shot open. Why? What woke him up? He listened intently for a few seconds, awake and alert. Steps echoed in mostly empty cabin. Intruder tried to be quiet, but it went poorly. Vis shot up in his bed and grabbed the first thing he saw to beat the living shit out of the fucker. He was already mad because Kidd didn’t show up and now someone dared to wake him up? No one but him would leave this house alive.

He flew down the stairs, not even trying to be quiet, buzzing with pure hatred and fury, but no one was in the living room. Turning in every possible direction, almost foaming at the mouth, he listened for even the shadow of steps to appear again.

Vis felt movement right behind him, coming from around the corner in the kitchen. Before he could turn around, he felt arm wrap around his neck and squeeze.

“That’s not the warm welcome I expected” familiar voice rasped right above his left ear. Vis gasped with delight, dropping bedside lamp to the floor and letting it break right there. He finally turned around, red eyes shone bright as if something lit them up from the inside of Kidd’s head.

“Oh, my god! You really didn’t forget!” Vis yelled, jumping at him and hugging huge man koala-style. Kidd froze for a second, not expecting it at all. Well, he should start getting used to stuff like that if he wanted to keep Vis around.

“Yeah, we didn’t. But we have to go. We can throw a damn party if you want, but we have to move. Killer and the rest wait for us few miles away” Kidd peeled Vis off his body and put him down on the floor.

“Sure, I have all my things in the car. I’m ready, just have to put some clothes on” he giggled and ran upstairs to throw on the things he had on the previous day. In just one minute he stood in front of Kidd again, almost vibrating with excitement. God shook his head at him and walked to the door. Vis skipped after him and hummed happy song.

With one swift kick he opened metal gates and chased his new life down, grabbing its throat and strangling it with all his might. He didn’t want to rely on something like fate if he could create it himself.

Turning the key in ignition, he looked at Kidd. Again, they sat side by side, this time as partners in first of many crimes. Car started and Vis felt hot lava pooling between his legs.

“I’m going give you the best head of your life” he suddenly spoke up, peeling off into the night. Kidd laughed and slapped his hand down on Vis’ thigh.

“You’re gonna give me much more than that.”

Yeah, everything would be alright, he thought, pushing gas pedal to the floor.

[capitalism-is-a-psychopathy]

Unlocking the Truth: Why Capitalism is a Psychopath and Worthwhile Pursuits

In the dead of night, the capitalist machine whispers, a siren call to the weary. Souls sold for coins, dreams bled dry. A faceless psychopath, it ensnares us in a loveless embrace, our humanity gambled away on the altar of endless greed. We awake, yet the nightmare thrives. Hey there everyone! It's time to dive into a topic that is bound to get your blood pumping and your thoughts racing. Today, we're going to uncover the hidden truth about capitalism and its relationship to worthwhile pursuits. Many of us have been brought up to believe that capitalism is the ultimate driver of progress and success, but what if I told you that it has a darker side? That's right, capitalism can be likened to a psychopath in the way it operates and influences our perceptions of what is truly worthwhile. So let's shake things up and explore how the pursuit of worthwhileness is impacted by the insatiable nature of capitalism. Get ready to challenge your assumptions and think critically about how we define value in our lives. You won't want to miss out on this journey of discovery! Stay tuned for more mind-blowing insights.

[cripplerage]

Oh my god.

ID: A screenshot of a paragraph from The Guardian. It reads, "Musk envisions both disabled and healthy individuals swiftly getting surgical implants at local centers. These devices aim to cure a range of conditions from obesity, autism, depression and schizophrenia, and to enabling web browsing and telepathy."

Listen. I'm not here to say that disabled people shouldn't want cures. There's a lot of people suffering and I get that. But obviously this trial will not help us get there.

I don't know how his trials are going to work but if you hear anyone considering signing up or having hope in his trials I'm begging you - please be kind. A lot of low support needs people on here will tell you that it's evil to want a cure but whilst it's ok if you don't want one, it truly is ok if you do. Don't harass anyone for wanting more options in this capitalistic nightmare - just warn them that Musk isn't a safe place to go with these dreams.

And please keep an eye on people who might be likely to be talked over or have someone else "consent" on their behalf.

The way people are talking about Musk's Neuralink FDA trial approval is so frustrating to me. "Oh haha, Musk fanboys are going to get their brains fried!" But that's.... that's just not how FDA trials work. They're not things that perfectly healthy people can sign up for just for fun. FDA drug/medical device trials are for specific health conditions - I'm having a hard time finding which exact conditions Neuralink is approved to have trials for, but all I can see is they intend to treat neurological conditions in general. When you look at people who sign up for trials though it's pretty much just people who are absolutely desperate for a new treatment because what's available isn't working for them - or they have no medical insurance (medical trials usually cover not only the cost of the trial but the continued treatment with the trial drug for X months/years after) and people just desperate for money (many trials offer financial compensation). And it's like.... Sure maybe a handful of those people might be Musk bros, but they aren't going to make up the bulk of the ones killed and maimed by this. It's going to be disabled people in desperate situations, I'm sure many of whom have no idea or only a vague idea of who Musk is.

[undeadhorse]

had a nightmare about a capitalist dystopia where the last bastion of humanity was all in one big cement city, bc the rest of the planet was a dead wasteland. also i kept getting sucked into the dimension of pain and suffering. and after i left it it stayed overlapped on reality. no sun or moon, almost no light at all. red and black howling winds and blood and gore so thick it made up the ground you walked on. grotesque screaming faces depicting unimagineable suffering. and these horrible red basin things that were all ribbed and organic, like a flower made out of human corpses. it really sucked. the dream ended as the city collapsed and the world ended. bc capitalism.

suffice to say as an ocd anxiety ptsd girlie im not feeling so good! my brain does this occasionally and it really sucks.

[lestatwillneverhurtyou]

sometimes i just think about how i wasn’t expecting to be here this long

i wasn’t actively suicidal, at least not for long

i just felt like i wasn’t gonna be alive i wasn’t gonna survive to 30 or 40 or whatever milestone means you’re a real grown up human

i don’t know how to plan for the future, cause i didn’t think i had a future to plan

sure i had dreams and hopes, but they were far fetched and far away. i didn’t know how to get there

now, im 30 years old. im still here. i don’t know how, or why. im taking it a day at a time, a week, a month maybe. just like i always have. im doing better, im trying really hard to be better.

i go to shows, i play games, i watch movies, i travel, make friends, try to stay alive. anything i can find meaning in in this capitalistic nightmare of a life.

so, why is it still not enough? why am i shamed for living my life? in the way i want, in the way i can. i know im ‘behind’ on a lot of things, a lot of milestones.

i don’t know how to drive, and i should. i don’t have my own place, i would like to.

i have a job, i pay bills, i save money

and again, i survive. i just wish trying, surviving, could be enough for everyone else. i just want to exist.