#cruising through the doom days

[beloveddawn-blog]

Call Out Doom! Aika Has a Sleepover!

Fandom: Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want to be a Magical Girl

Rating: PG for swearing

Summary: Akia and Zira have a sleepover. Evil has other ideas.

Word Count: 2500

Notes: This is for @kianamaiart's amazing new project! The idea came from @shroudtailor in an ask. Sorry for stealing it, but I just fell in love with the idea. Also this might be wildly OOC considering the pilot isn't out yet, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

“You could tell me how accurate it is! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

No, that would be the last thing I’d find ‘fun’ Aika thought, but when faced with Zira’s excitement all that she could actually say was, “Sure. Does Thursday work for you? We’ve got a Pro-D day on Friday so we’ll have some extra time.”

“That would be awesome!” Zira cried, vibrating with excitement. “I just gotta check with my Mom, okay? I’ll get back to you by the end of the day! She doesn’t answer my texts at work.”

Aika did her best to hide her wince at that. It was going to be a loooooooong weekend.

*

19:00

Zira’s house

“Thanks so much for coming, Aika! I hope you don’t mind that we’re watching it in the basement. It’s all set up for Dad to have his football buddies over, so at least it’s comfortable. It’s a bit away from the bathroom and kitchen, but we’ll have privacy. If we were in the living room Mom and Dad would be… well… they phrase it as it’s my house and I can go where I want and I guess they aren’t wrong but also, like, I don’t wanna hang out with them today? They’re my parents, they’re embarrassing, and they don’t even like Moon Sailor so I don’t know why they’d wanna watch anyway…” 

“Sound like my kinda people.” Aika muttered under her breath as she followed Zira down the stairs.

“What was that?” Zira asked, turning almost completely around on the stairs in a way that made Aika reflexively reach for them, her training shining through like it always did.

“I said it’s their loss.” She fibbed, basking in the way Zira’s face lit up at that.

“It is.” They agreed. “But that’s okay. I can share it with you now!”

Aika melted at that, her trepidations about the plan leaving her as her resolve hardened. It was just an anime. She reminded herself. If Zira likes it this much, how bad can it really be?

*

19:23

Zira’s House

“Don’t touch that cat!” Aika yelled at the screen, stuffing popcorn in her mouth. “That cat is bad news! Walk on by, girlie!”

“That would make for a very short show.” Zira replied wryly, sitting primly on the edge of the couch to avoid Aika’s animated limbs.

“It would make for a very happy show.” Aika insisted, inspecting her next handful of popcorn critically. Zira had no idea what she was looking for, but it appeared she found it as she stuffed that one in her mouth as well.

“Then it would just be a show about her failing her math test. Who’d watch that?”

“Excuse you, Azumanga Daioh is amazing.”

*

20:52

Zira’s House

“Dooooooooooon’t. Don’t do that. Just don’t.” Aika was hiding behind her hands like she was expecting a jumpscare. Zira shifted towards her in concern. The mist and the computers were a little creepy, but this still wasn’t really a scary episode. For someone who fought for real at times, Aika was being a bit of a baby about this.

“Don’t just declare her your friend, you only just met her.” She continued, her voice so soft Zira had to strain to hear it. The main girl embraced her new teammate, and Aika hid behind her hands with a squeak.

You’d have thought it was Jason with his chainsaw, the way she was acting.

*

22:22

Zira’s House

“Have you ever been on a cruise ship?” Zira asked, curious about the way Aika was scoffing.

“No. But do you hear those two? Ridiculous! She should have taken her night off and let her so-called friends deal with this nonsense. A long bubble bath would be way better than fighting a sea monster, and they said they didn’t want her there!”

*

22:45

Zira’s House

“Wait, they actually have character deaths in this show? I thought it was for kids!”

“... He’s a bad guy.”

“Still.”

*

00:39

Zira’s House

“She’s so stupid. So stupid. Why is everyone so stupid?”

“She’s in love.” Zira replied softly, taking some offence at Aika’s sarcasm for the first time.

“She’s still better than that. She can’t be making mistakes like this. Not this late in the game. Not with this much riding on them… And not when it’s so obviously a trap. Be honest, Zira, don’t you think you’d hesitate on the One True Love thing if it turned out they were flirting with every girl in town? Don’t you think she deserves better than a love like that?”

Zira paused, then nodded. It caused Aika to tug slightly on their hair from where she was styling it into two buns (“So we’ll match!). Aika let go then, and her voice dropped even softer. “She deserves her own future. Not just what everyone says fate has in store for her.

Zira didn’t know how to answer that, so she just laid her head on Aika’s knee in comfort.

*

03;17

Zira’s House

“Zira… I’m sorry to say this but I need to go to sleep.” Aika had curled up against the arm of the sofa almost two episodes ago, and now she was starting to do that jerk-startle thing that made it clear sleep was imminent.

Zira pouted. They couldn’t help it! This had been… This had been nice, even if Aika did take everything the characters did a bit personally. Halfway through the second villain arc she’d actually developed some sort of rubric and was giving all of the main characters scores like they were figure skaters and Zira had laughed so hard at some of her commentary that their sides still hurt.

They just… Didn’t want this to end.

Aika jerked awake again and Zira nodded, acknowledging that her friend-they were friends-was at the end of her rope.

“Alright. Pop up for a moment. The couch pulls out.”

Aika groaned dramatically and flopped herself over the arm of the sofa, landing in an undignified heap on the floor. Zira couldn’t help smirking at that, especially since it was so obviously on purpose. “‘S all yours.” She slurred with a slight wave. “Have at.”

Zira laughed again, then quickly set up the bed. As fast as it had been, Aika had still almost passed out on the floor. Zira had needed to help her up and tuck her in.

“Not much of a teenager sleepover.” She teased, though truth be told all of their information on sleepovers was theoretical. “I thought we’d aim for sunrise.”

Aika snorted. “Past m’bedtime. By… lotttttttttt… Hoshi g’n’a fight ‘bout it. “Mind me a… smother…” The last word trailed off in a soft exhale as she passed fully out, a surprisingly loud snore her next noise.

Zira tamped down on the wild urge to coo about it and instead got herself into the other side of the bed. They’d switched to pjs shortly after midnight with this in mind. And, as much fun as it was to tease Aika, she was also fading fast.

Between one breath and the next, darkness came.

*

06:23

Zira’s House

“Hmmm? Whazzat?” Zira muttered, a strange noise pulling them from sleep.

“Don’t worry about it.” A soft, familiar voice replied and Zira smiled. “It’s just the star shard.”

Zira hummed and fell back asleep.

*

10:03

Zira’s House

Zira was awoken suddenly by a loud thump. She shot up in alarm, only to blink dazedly at Aika. Aika, who was wearing her work uniform. Aika, who was staring at the floor in confusion as she tried to figure out why she was lying on it.

Zira blinked and went with the obvious question. “Are you alright?”

Aika turned her gaze up, then grinned when she saw Zira. “Oh good. Right basement this time.”

Zira turned that over in her mind for a moment before disregarding it. That wasn’t a question they needed answered right now.

“Do you need a hand?”

Aika waved her own around. “Got TWO!” She proudly announced, followed by a pitiful, “Owwwwwwie,” as she brained herself with her own staff.

“Have you been…” Zira hesitated, not quite knowing how to phrase this. “Out?”

“Growth ray got tested on a Chiuaua.” She confirmed, flopping down onto the floor. “Didn’t want to hurt the dude, ‘s not his fault, but the downtown was a mess. During rush hour too!”

Zira nodded, not quite sure how else to acknowledge that. “So… you definitely need a nap. Did you want breakfast first? Mom got this whole Dutch… thing for us to have. There’s bread and like four types of cheese and these weird chocolate sprinkles. Her uni roommate used to feed it to her on the weekend.”

Aika shook her head petulantly. “Nooooooooo. We had a… a plan. To watch the thing. Your thing. With the magic girls. I’m fine. I’ve had like… four redbulls. They’ll kick in in a moment.”

“Aika… You’re in no shape to watch Moon Sailor right now. You won’t even be able to pay attention.” They got out of bed and stretched. “Besides, I’m hungry. I’m gonna go grab us breakfast, kay? Just wait here.”

Aika gave her a thumbs up and a grin that held just an edge of mania to it as Zira passed… and was expectedly asleep on the floor upon return. Zira shook her head and hoisted her friend back onto the bed. Aika’s transformation had faded as soon as her conscience did, and Zira made sure to place the star shard carefully on the side table where Aika could see it as soon as she woke up.

It was precious, after all. It was what allowed Aika to transform.

*

15:37

Corner Store Near Zira’s House

“I’ve told you like a dozen times that you don’t need to apologize.” Zira insisted, snagging some gummy worms off the display. “Now pick a candy so we can go look at whatever dubious cheeses they have paired with the pepperoni over there.”

“For now.” Aika replied glumly. She perked up afterwards, but Zira could tell it was just a mask. Those words turned themselves over and over in her mind, but she put that away as well.

For now she would honour Aika’s unspoken plea and match her energy. They still had a whole weekend together. There was no sense in ruining it now.

*

16:53

Zira’s House

“Don’t eat too many of those pep ‘n’ cheds.” Zira warned. “Dad’s doing a BBQ tonight. You’re gonna want room for burgers.”

Aika stared critically at the snack in her hand, completely ignoring the show in the background. “I’m not sure if I’m tasting the cheese or just the spices from the pepperoni. I’ll have to give Monterey Jack another try some other time, I think.”

“Sounds like a plan.” They replied, tuning back in to the show just in time to watch two of the heroes make utter fools of themselves in front of a guy who already had a girlfriend. She winced. Aika probably had the better idea.

*

21:33

Zira’s House

“Thanks for being such a good sport about that.” Zira commented softly, eyes boring holes into the second fake male lead in as many days. “They… ah… have been worried. About the no friends thing. So they’re… A bit overdoing it. Thanks for not making it weird.”

Aika laughed, followed by one of the groans she’d been periodically letting out since her fourth burger. It had not stopped her from having a fifth. “Dude, don’t even worry about it. Your Mom brought seven types of cheese home with her. Seven. Then made a cheese platter while your Dad was cooking! I’m just glad I didn’t make it weird myself by asking to be adopted on the spot!”

Zira laughed at that, ignoring how weird an adoption would make… things. “I’m pretty sure you’d want to go home eventually. Their overwhelming parentness really starts to grate after a few days.”

Aika hummed, sounding unconvinced. “Why do people keep falling for the fake dude? Can’t any of these airheads tell it isn’t him?”

Zira let herself be distracted, as ready as Aika to drop the subject.

*

21:43

Zira’s House

“He fell for the fake too?? Never mind, those dumbasses deserve each other!”

*

23:58

Zira’s House

“They enrolled in Princess school?!? How do they keep getting dumber every episode? That’s it, they all fail this episode. All of them. And what sort of Finishing School teaches frisbee anyway??”

*

02:07

Zira’s House

“SHIT! Shit, don’t panic!” Aika sprang from the couch in a manner that completely belied the way she had been dozing mere seconds previous. Her star shard was pulsing and vibrating in a way she knew very well, but had been hoping wouldn’t happen for at least a few days (forever).

“Again?” Zira asked, and Aika flinched at the implied criticism in the question.

“Sorry.” She replied, staring down at her most hated possession and wishing it to the depths of the ocean. “I’m really sorry. I know we’re on the finale now and the timing is terrible…”

“Fuck the timing.” Zira replied with fervor. “Aika, you’ve had like nine hours of sleep across the last three days. You can’t go out now!”

Aika gave her a grin, but there was too much darkness in it to lighten anything. “That’s just how it is, Zira. I don’t get movie nights, I don’t get family meals, heck I don’t even get birthdays off. I’ve snuck out of both of the last Christmases. Even most on-call jobs you can schedule some important time off, but not here.  I have to answer, so I’m never going to get to have anything that’s mine again. That’s what being a Magical Girl means. We just saw two of them die, and it’s supposed to be sad but I was jealous. They don’t have to answer the call anymore.”

That was entirely too heavy for Zira to manage at this time of night, so instead she just said the first thing that came to mind. “There’s four more seasons. They come back.”

“OF COURSE THEY FUCKING DO!!!”

*

03:15

Zira’s House

Aika was fairly certain this was the right basement and she wasn’t going to have any more incredibly awkward encounters. She was proven right when she was Zira, still waiting up for her, and she smiled.

“Sorry ‘bout… that.” She said, covering a giant yawn that appeared in the middle. “I was as quick as I could be. Let’s finish off this finale.”

Zira eyed her critically, then shook her head. Aika felt her heart drop to her feet. One more who can’t take it…” She thought, but was surprised when Zira just came over to wrap her in a blanket and hand her a cup of milk. She blinked at it, caught totally off guard.

“The internet said the fight was over.” Zira admitted, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “So I got you some milk. We’ll watch the finale tomorrow. For now, I think we could both use some sleep.”

Zira led her towards the bed, and Aika followed in a complete daze. She wasn’t sure yet if this was the first step to acceptance or leaving… but for now she’d take it. She’d take it.

For some reason her teammates had never been as lonely as she was.

She felt asleep with the warmth of a friend beside her, and her last thought was maybe I don’t have to be any more.

She’d forget it before she woke.

[honeybunhottie]

new story idea! are yall in?

You’ve always wanted a close knit friend group. Your entire life, it seems like you’ve spent longing for one. And one day, you believe you’ve found it! Only for your world to be completely turned topsy turvy when they not so accidentally sacrifice you during a camping trip gone wrong.

Suddenly you wake up and it’s 2013 again. Flappy Bird is the hottest new game, everyone is doing the Harlem Shake, and vines and dodge memes are the pinnacle of humor. Mustaches and Chevron are everywhere, and "Keep Calm and blah blah blah" sayings are on everything.

You don’t remember much from this year, but everything seems a little off. It’s like everything is a little to the left. You take it as nostalgia clouding your memory and decide to just coast along. You'll invest in bitcoin and become a youtuber or something. Everything is going perfect, your plan aligning until your first day at your new high school that your 'not parent' parents enrolled you in. It's been a couple of months of you working non-stop at Starbucks, you're feeling established, you even got a cute owl necklace to be fashion backwards forward! The day itself was going well, until a slightly younger Sam Giddings is giving you a mini tour of the school.

Oh shit.

You were desperate for a friend group, yes. But not THAT desperate. They barely even like each other! Most of them ended up dead in your playthroughs, and it was basically at the hands of their friends! Every. Single. Time.

Well, except that one time with the remaster. You somehow managed to keep everyone alive. Not a great track record though! Especially if you somehow got thrown into this now VERY real life weird game mix.

It should be obvious how to avoid calamity here, there’s even a few options! Beg your 'not parent' parents to transfer you to another school? Okay that was a fail, its only been two days of the semester, but fear not, there’s other ways to avoid certain death! Beg your counselor to switch your classes? This one works a little TOO good, and now all of your classes have at least one cast member in them. Your last hope is to ignore and avoid them,  entirely denying their existence in the first place. You think that it'll be easy enough...

Except you never stood a chance. Not when Sam looks at you with that amused quirk of her lip when you trip over your words as her lab partner. Not when Jess hits your arms incessantly as she laughs at your sarcastic responses. And certainly not when Josh throws his arm around your shoulder, treating you like he’s known you for years despite your short time together. These guys were crazy! They were insane in the game! Why are they growing on you? This just doesn't make sense!

Except it does.

Because here’s the thing: 

If the universe was working overtime to send you here through your possibly a cult old friend group, maybe this is life’s weird way of answering your years of tears and begging for a group of people to love and be loved back by.

And there's nothing wrong with that! You're allowed to have some fun in your life!!! You can totally just cruise on by with them, go to a few parties and sleepovers here and there, then say no to the lodge hangouts. Maybe you’ll visit your 'not grandma' grandma across the country?

Except that plan becomes doomed as well. Very inconveniently, your 'not grandma' grandma dies a month before your planned visit. Your 'not parent' parents are heading out of town that weekend for their anniversary. And possibly the most damming and inescapable of all, you’ve grown quite attached to the Washington sisters.

How could you, in good conscience, leave them to their fate without at least trying to save them? These people, YOUR friends, who you’ve exchanged hearts with? You’ve got to at least attempt it. That's what friends do!

So hit the gym! And take up a weird outdoorsy sport or two. There’s roughly 6 months until the events of the prologue take place, and you aren’t going down without a fight.

[janceezer]

“There must be something in the kool-aid,

cruising through the doom days,

God knows what is real and what is fake”

“Let’s pick the truth that we believe in,

Like a bad religion, tell me all your original sins”

“So many questionable choices,

We love the sound that our voice makes,

Man this echo chamber’s getting loud”

“we’ll be the proud remainers,

here till the morning breaks us,

we run away from real life thoughts tonight”

[icky-rickyy]

Joy Ride

Motorcyclist!Logan x Motorcyclist!reader

I am currently obsessing over street bike tik tok. Taking a short break from my multi part I am writing to supply this beauty.

Rated: E for everyone.

Should I do a part2

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Marissa, your roommate spoke from her bed. She was laid in snuggly under the covers, chin tucked to her chest and cell phone resting on her abdomen as she dedicated the first half of the day to ‘doom scrolling’ as she called it.

“Yeah why not? I never meet anyone, and I never get to show off. I haven’t gone on a joy ride in months.”

You were tugging the zipper of your armored pants up, making sure they were fastened tightly to your body.

“You’re going to go cruising into a bike meet? A male predominant space and expect to get treated like one of the guys? Your tits are out!” She inched up in her bed, resting her back against the headboard.

“The last time I went to a bike meet was with Ethan. And I went as a backpack. I didn’t even have my own bike to show off, I was just eye candy while riding bitch and holding on to him.”

“And I look better on a bike when my tits are out anyways!” You looked down the front of your white cropped top, tugging the bottom hem down.

“Are you going by yourself?”

“Well….. no. I was going to ask Ethan to meet with me. Buutttt, if you wanna play backpack then I won’t invite him.” You were pulling on a thin zip up jacket, zipping it only a quarter of the way.

“I am so sorry but this is my only Saturday off all month, I am not getting oogled at and then being scared for my life while you drive recklessly.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Kay fine. Don’t be mad when I come home with some biker hottie and we’re knockin boots all night.”

You grabbed your helmet from the end of her bed, tucking it under your arm with a firm slap to the top of it.

“Don’t die, and don’t get any STD’s!” She cheered after you as you headed through your apartment to the front door.

You dialed quickly on your phone, tucking it between your ear and shoulder as you pulled your keys from your pocket. It only took two rings before it answered.

“Uh hello?”

Ethan was on the other side, asking pensively.

“Are you going to the bike meet at the abandoned Jiffy on 10th?” You hung your helmet on the handle bar of your bike, swinging your leg over to mount it.

“Yes. How do you even know about that?” You could hear him shuffling on the other line.

“You’ll see. I’ll be there in 20.”

You hung up the phone quickly, locking it on to your phone stand and reaching for your helmet. You pulled it on over your hair, tucking the loose strands up in the back before fastening it tightly around your chin.

The bike roared to life beneath you, and your heart settled happily in your chest. You were excited for the evening, ready to see what the rest of the day could hold.

You weren’t even sure where to park.

The abandoned parking lot was already half filled with bikes of all shapes and sizes. Riders stood talking to one another while others stayed perched on their motorcycles simply observing or scrolling on their phones. There were at least 30 people stood waiting, and the meet wasn’t meant to actually start for another 10 minuets.

You tried not to shy away from peering eyes as you rolled into the large group of people, looking for an open spot to put the kickstand up on your bike and put it in park.

There was an open spot next to an older model Harley, the owner stood leaning against his bike puffing a half smoked cigar as he looked to the others suspiciously.

It was a stark difference, your bike next to his.

His classic looking motorcycle next to your lilac purple crotch rocket. Dark black leather next to pink and white accents and flashy rims.

You pushed the kickstand down, staying mounted on your bike as you fiddled with the helmet strap. Your hair fell from its tucked in position, setting your helmet on the gas tank and pulling your gloves off to run your hands through your messy helmet hair.

You tried not to look at the man next to you, watching his eyes scan as his large chest huffed with each inhale of his cigar. He had a leather jacket folded on the seat next to him, clad in a white beater tank top and bootcut jeans help up by a large silver belt buckle. His arms were big and muscular, covered by a vast sea of body hair. A tickle of the dark hair peeked up past the neckline of his tank top and teased at the base of his throat.

He looked many years you senior, and hot as fuck.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” You stuck your hand out to him sheepishly, introducing yourself.

“Logan. Like your bike.” He nodded down, eyes narrow with a stern look on his face. His words were curt but friendly.

“Right back at ya.” You chuckled back, pausing your next sentence when your phone began to ring in your pocket.

“Sorry.”

You dismissed yourself, answering Ethan’s incoming call and pressing it to your ear.

“Hey. Yeah. I’m next to an all black Harley. It’ll be hard to miss me. Yep. See you here.” You pushed your phone back into your pocket after ending the call, adjusting your seating on your bike.

Logan was still looking around, watching people walk past and nodding to the few that gawked openly.

A group of girls still wearing their helmets were walking by, whispering and squealing quietly to themselves at the sight of your bike. They all came by to swoon with you, asking where you got it and identifying questions you weren’t unfamiliar with answering.

You could hear the signature roar of Ethan’s bike as he approached, the girls standing near all making a clearing as he pulled in behind you and parking his own bike. He dismounted, swiftly pulling off his helmet.

“Wow. I’m impressed. You might have just out done me.” He stood with his hands on his hips, watching as you pulled your leg over your bike approaching him with a hug.

It had been nearly six months since your breakup that you had last seen Ethan. You tried a few times after the initial ending of your relationship to rekindle, but it never seemed to work out.

“I didn’t even know you got a bike.” He held you proudly by your shoulders, stepping back and putting his hands to his side when the group of people around the two of you finally registered in his brain.

“Well I was tired of being a backpack, what can I say? This is your fault though. You started this addiction.” You laughed open heartedly to him, watching him nod with a smile.

“Well I have a few buddies here to catch up with, but I’ll cruise with you when we get going later.”

You nodded as a quiet response to him, smiling as you watched him walk away and into a group of guys that all hugged and high-fived him happily.

“Boyfriend?” Logan asked from next to you.

You had almost forgot he was there, looming quietly from his bike.

“No.” You laughed to him. “Ex. This is actually the first time we’ve seen each other in months.” You pulled your phone from your pocket again, sending Marissa a quick text that you had arrived safe and sound.

“His loss.” Logan muttered quietly, pulling a final drag of his cigar. You looked over with a flash of shock, watching him smirk as he flicked the tobacco to the ground and stomped it to ash.

All you did was nod with a shy smile, looking to your street shoes and kicking a loose pebble around.

The entire group of bikers waited for another 10 minutes before everyone loaded up. You pulled on your gloves and helmet again, tugging the strap tight and hopping back on to your bike. Ethan mounted his behind you, you both shared an excited glance before you flicked down the visor of your helmet. Logan pulled on his jacket, climbing onto his bike without any protection. He smirked over to you, you blushed behind the darkness of your helmet.

Your whole body was vibrating in excitement when the group of bikes roared to life. There were at least 50 of you. It was too hard to count when the front of the group sped from the parking lot and out into the street.

Ethan replaced Logan’s spot on the side of you, keeping steady pace as you all began to race down the pavement. Logan followed shortly behind.

Passer-bys in their cars all gawked at the lot of you, heads swinging on a swivel as the singular headlights went by in a flash.

The group was picking up speed, going through main traffic until you took enough turns and ended up on an open paved backroad.

Evening was dwindling down, and the traffic was decreasing by the minute. This left the wide open pavement to the entire fleet of motorcycles to cruise in and out of the two lane road.

People were synced up to each others helmets, talking joyfully through about their lives while others shared music with each other in a collective jam session. You typically would enjoy far too loud music while riding, but you left your ears open to hear the herd of rumbling bikes race down the streets and to pick up on any important or urgent comms messages.

Logan managed to squeeze in between you and Ethan, his classic bike groaned and rumbled deeply as he yanked on his throttle in show. You laughed aloud at his ego display, looking between him and the road as he smiled brightly.

Logan leaned over as much as he could from the distance between you, sticking his hand out in invitation. You veered your bike closer to his, placing your hand in his open palm. He clasped his hand around yours, pulling your gloved knuckles up to place a soft kiss upon them. He squeezed your hand before sending you a wink and letting go.

You put your hand over the mouth of your helmet, tilting your head to mock grace at his chivalry. He threw his head back in a laugh, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

When you both quit giggling you watched Logan’s eyes flash dark with mischief. He scanned the area quickly, locating and calculating the closest bikers before he yanked down on his throttle.

His bike was absolutely screeching, hollering in a deep grumble as he pulled down harder and shifted gears. He was flying through the group, weaving in and out of everyone as he accelerated through them all.

You were almost shocked, watching him navigate the group with ease. You watched a few people flash back to you with confusion. You decided, why the hell not, and yanked down on your throttle just as hard.

The wind was whistling against you as you leaned down into the tank of your bike, feeling yourself accelerate even faster with the aerodynamics. It was a flash of headlights and rainbow colored modifications as you passed each biker swiftly in urge to catch up with Logan who was now coasting freely at the front of the group.

Your comms system was catching nearby voices, hearing them whisper in confusion or holler in excitement.

Logan was looking back as often as he could when he heard your bike accelerating behind him, a wide smile on his face when you finally caught up. You flipped up the visor of your helmet.

“You tryna race?” You yelled over to him.

He shook his head from side to side. “Not tonight doll, just wanted to show off a little.”

“Maybe next time?” You inquired with a smile, watching him roll his eyes playfully.

“Yeah, maybe next time.”

It was nearly 10 pm when you all returned back to the abandoned parking lot. Many of the bikers wished a good night as they broke up from the group to head home, the others followed back and were now parked in the meeting spot. Most were walking around in the light of the street lamps engaging in conversation or perusing the parked bikes in admiration.

You’d mainly went back to bid a goodnight to Ethan and then head home, to thank him for showing and for inspiring you to chase this particular fulfillment in your life.

It’s was hard to ever consider a time when you didn’t have a bike. From the moment you met Ethan and you began riding tandem with him, you were obsessed. The adrenaline, the quick feeling of flying through the open roads, the deep contentment that settled your soul and helped you sleep at night.

“Thanks again.” You confirmed to him, seeing his bright smile underneath his helmet. He held your shoulders kindly and his bright blue eyes shimmered down in pride.

“I’m proud of you. I hope you know that.”

You could have teared up at his endearment. Sometimes you wondered what it would have been like if this managed to work out with him.

“Thank you. Let’s plan another time to meet up, maybe without the other seven million people.”

Ethan nodded in confirmation with a laugh, pulling you in for one last tight hug before separating to head to his bike parked nearby.

He waved to the group and his friends as he drove away on his bike, peering out into the road before he filtered into the straying traffic and was gone in a flash.

Logan had still loomed by, leaning against his bike and finishing another cigar. You were ready to leave and head home, but felt compelled to talk to him.

“Thanks for the fun tonight. This was my first ever meet solo and you, uh, you just made it a lot better.” You stuck out your hand as a formality.

Logan reached out and shook it, his large hand wrapping around your gloved one like earlier.

“Thank you for playing along. Recklessness can get boring.”

You chuckled in response, nervously tucking your hand into your pocket and looking to the ground.

“Hey?” Logan asked, tentatively reaching for the bottom of your helmet. He tugged you closer, tilting your head up to look up at him.

“Let’s do this again, just you and I? Next week on Tuesday work?” He puffed a cloud of smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

You nodded wordlessly.

“Meet here? 10 am?”

You nodded again.

“Perfect. Good night, and get home safe doll.” He released his grip on your helmet, watching you stay frozen in shock. He stomped out his cigar like he did earlier, mounting his bike swiftly.

You watched in awe as he rumbled it to life. He sent a flirty wink before pulling up his own kickstand. Logan flew out of the parking lot and into the street.

“Oh fuck me.” You groaned, flicking down the visor of your helmet and mounting your own bike to head home.

[setmeatopthepyre]

thinking about the capsized cruise ship, a world upside down and uninhabitable, with doomed loved ones trapped within it. how it's cut off from the land of the living by a vast body of water. thinking about the prophetess Cassandra firefighter Hen Wilson, who took matters into her own hands when her warnings of impending disaster went ignored by those in charge

thinking about one ferryman helicopter pilot Tommy Kinard, bending the rules to safely guide mortals LAFD through a storm and across the deep dark depths to cross into the realms of the dead foreign waters so that they may attempt to retrieve their loved ones from the underworld upside-down cruise ship

thinking about Athena goddess of war and wisdom who aided heroes on their journeys and once bested Poseidon Grant shooting an illuminating light from a weapon flare into the sky in a last attempt to guide rescue towards their position and save them all from the ocean's grasp

thinking about Bobby being pulled up from the depths of what could have been his grave by Buck and Eddie. thinking about Bobby and Athena, two lovers just escaped from the underworld cruise ship, reuniting in the light of day in a world turned right-side-up again, back in the land of the living with all those who love them

(thinking of Buck finding himself, later, in a different kind of storm emotional turmoil, only for the clouds to part and reveal our ferryman pilot Tommy ready to help Buck cross into this newer, more complete version of himself)

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 38

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

I made myself paranoid all day. At work I avoided going down the long hallway to the isolated bathroom for as long as I could. I had been in that bathroom more times than I could count without a thought. My coworkers were right there. There was no chance this mysterious lady killer was in our building. Still, I felt anxious, peed quickly and hurried out there.

The same thing happened on the ride home and the stop for gas. I wanted to get out of there. I felt like death was a dark hanging cloud over the area and I just needed to go. My parents practically begged me to come home, but I assured them that a “girl’s weekend” away was the best thing for me. I didn’t know when I planned to tell them about my much-older boyfriend - who happened to be my professor. I was planning on leaving that detail out.

My eyes hit the rearview mirror as I cruised around. I was tempted to swing through the Dunkin Donuts drive through for a quick pick-me-up, but my nerves even talked me out of that. I couldn’t stop thinking about Trevor and his odd behavior as of late.

Could it be him? Was he actually sneaking up behind me the night he got into it with Dr. Miller on the sidewalk? Would he ever be crazy enough to follow me up this way?

I was suddenly thankful I had put my social media on private. At least there was a digital barrier, not that that would help me in the physical world. When I was certain no one had followed me home from work, I made the turn up the driveway to Dr. Miller’s mansion. I still couldn’t think of it as ours. I probably never would, even if I was lucky enough to marry him one day.

When I got there, the gate was open and I could see him loading up some luggage into the back of the pickup truck. He gave a wave and after parking I greeted him with a quick hug and a kiss.

“You okay?” He asked me, putting a hand on my cheek.

I nodded. “This just feels surreal.” I sighed, “I’m glad we’re getting out of here for a few days. “I need a break from the gloom and doom and the death.”

Dr. Miller nodded and pulled me in for a hug, kissing my forehead. “Now will you consider dropping Dr. Stevenson’s class? I don’t want you on campus.”

“I’m paranoid everywhere,” I admitted, glancing up at him. I shook my head with a little laugh, “I was nervous going down the hall to the bathroom at work today after they told me about the third body.”

“I get it. It shakes you up. If it didn’t there’d be something wrong.”

I looked up into his eyes and we shared another peck of a kiss. My eyes stayed locked on his as I stared up at him.

“What?” he asked.

I gave a half-smile. “Nothing. I’m just thankful I have you.”

Dr. Miller smiled back, “Let’s get the last couple things and we’ll hit the road.” He grinned and tugged on my sleeve, “Don’t forget your bathing suit.”

The ride to the resort gave me time to decompress. With each half-hour that passed, I felt the weights of Woodbridge falling off my shoulders. We alternated taking turns listening to songs we chose, talked about anything except for the murders and even played a silly game from passing cars’ license plates at the tail end of the trip.

And then, by nightfall, the gorgeous, illuminated snow slopes came into view as we made our way through the final stretch of the Vermont countryside. It was even gently snowing as we pulled onto the grounds of the resort. Another perfect winter wonderland.

“I wish I knew how to ski,” I said with a laugh, “This looks awesome.”

Dr. Miller, linked his hand with mine as we cruised down the long, bumpy driveway. “Well, there’s always time to learn. I think there’s a hill for snow tubing if you’re up for it.”

“No way.” I knew my face perked up like a small child at the thought of tubing down a hill.

“Way.” He chuckled at my reaction.

We found a parking spot and made our way to check in.

“I wonder who’s here yet from the wedding party,” Dr. Miller said aloud. We approached the front desk of the on-site hotel. “Here for the Brennan-Miller wedding,” he told the woman behind the counter.

“Ahh, yes.” She grinned to herself and glanced up at him. “What’s the name?”

“Joel Miller.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, handing her a card to put on file for the room.

After punching in the information to the computer and retrieving a pair of key cards, she looked back at us with a smile. “You’re on the top floor, room 522. Pool is on floor one. Gyms are on every even numbered room. Continental breakfast runs from 6-10 every morning.”

“Great,” Dr. Miller said with a nod. “Thank you. Have any of the other wedding guests checked in?”

“I can’t really tell you that,” she said, but whispered, “A few of the rooms have already been claimed but I can’t tell you who.”

He chuckled when she winked. “Thanks so much.”

“Enjoy your stay.”

I gave a friendly goodbye wave and made our way with our luggage toward a visible elevator. When we got inside and the doors closed, I glanced over at Dr. MIller.

“You know what being in this elevator alone with you makes me think of?” I wiggled my eyebrows at him, and he took the hint, giving in to a laugh.

“I know what you’re going to say.” Dr. Miller pulled me for a playful kiss.

“You had me wrapped around your finger that first time I had a drink with you.”

“I probably shouldn’t have said what I said, “ he told me, still with a sly grin.

“Yes, you should have.”

Our lips met again and we kissed until the little bell rang and the doors swung open at floor five. We both read the little golden plate on the wall across, tell us with numbers and directional arrows which way to go for room 522. 

Each window along the way gave a snapshot view of the slopes, where skiers and snowboarders still whipped around in the dark under the display of bright lights. It was a cool, new atmosphere that I wasn’t at all used to - but would be happy to embrace.

At 522, Dr. Miller placed the key card up to the slot and a blinking green light let us know we could enter.

“Here we go.” He glanced over his shoulder at me with a wink and I trailed him inside. 

Just as I had suspected, the room was another little slice of heaven. King sized bed, small kitchen, small hot tub on an enclosed balcony. When I walked into the bathroom I called him in. 

“This shower has like four shower heads,” I exclaimed, “And two more down by your legs.”

“Well, I know what our first activity should be.” Dr. Miller huffed a laugh and gripped his tongue between his teeth.

“We haven’t tackled that one yet.” I wrapped my arms around him and we indulging in making out for a moment. “I really could use a shower.”

“Well, let’s not waste any time.” Dr. Miller unzipped my jacket and then reached into the pocket of his when his phone buzzed. He read the text aloud, “Meet for drinks in the lodge at 8?”

“Carol?” I asked him.

He nodded. “It’s seven-fifteen now.”

“Plenty of time.” I grinned and unzipped his jacket now. In a jokingly sexy manner I slowly took off mine to reveal the striped sweater I still had on from work.

Dr. Miller laughed out loud and did the same, giving another wink for good measure.

I then tiptoed toward the shower and cranked the lever, almost immediately sending a pool of steam into the small cubicle when I shut the door.

I proceeded to strip down in front of him, flicking my lacy thong toward him with my toes and he hummed a, “Mmm,” of approval.

“I see you’re in a lighter mood,” he pointed out the obvious, still grinning as he removed his jacket and tossed it out the door onto the floor.

“I know a way to make it even better.” I opened the door to the shower and the pitter patter of the water grew louder.

When he joined me inside, the stress of real life all but disappeared. Dr. Miller was the perfect medicine for that. A getaway with him was just icing on the cake.

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1 @smolbeanzzz @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @bandluvr97

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

[co-mixed]

Fantastic Four: Reed Lies. Again

Every major Fantastic Four story at this point starts with the same thing – Reed finds something he’d like to keep from the rest of his family. It comes out, everybody hates Reed. 

In this regard, Matt Fraction went with a classic winning formula, and… it won. No, seriously, I know I say that after every run but this one is so far, my favorite. 

Let’s go see some spoilers. 

Fraction continues Hickman’s fresh tradition of splitting the run into two parts. But what I think I enjoy more, is the fact that he brings the team back to their roots. The Fantastic Four and their kids stay in the Fantastic Four run, that’s all adventure in the face of impending Doom. The Future Foundation gets a temporary replacement team/babysitters in the form of Medusa, She-Hulk, Ant-Man (Scott Lang), and Darla Deering. 

I’m gonna have to deal with the Fantastic Four first because there’s a lot to cover.

What’s up 

So like I said before, Reed finds out something terrible: the team’s powers are killing them, destroying their bodies. He knows for sure it’s affecting him, and he has a suspicion it might affect the rest of them. Honest man that he is, Reed decides ‘not to worry anyone' and find a cure on his own. Understandable too, if he lies well enough, he won’t even have to face the consequences. Instead he takes his decaying family on an adventure – a year of travels through time and space… which he personally would spend researching their condition. 

Spoiler: Reed does not find the cure. The cure finds them and it’s actually the future Johnny who brings the news. So there wasn’t even any point in dragging the family through hell while Franklin would literally wake up crying and saying he wanted to go home. 

That’s why people hate you, Reed

No, this run doesn’t make you like Reed or even feel sorry for him. To cover for the team, he tasks every member with bringing in a temporary replacement, and he himself goes to Scott Lang (who’s recently lost his daughter to Doom) to practically push him into babysitting. Is it a good idea to send a clearly traumatized man to do the job? Reed apparently believes so. He even promises that it will be only 4 minutes because space-time travel is like that. It’s not 4 minutes, and I can’t stress this enough, because whatever’s going on in FF while he takes his dying family on a cruise is on his conscience.

It doesn’t take long for Sue to find out, she once again confronts Reed and I gotta say, this man is a manipulator of the highest level because every time Sue is mad at him, she ends up apologizing and reassuring him. For once I wish she stood up to him and didn’t let it slide. And I feel like I keep repeating myself with that but the story keeps going in circles.

Sue tells Ben and then the three of them continue to keep this from Johnny, who is obviously freaked out. 

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Fantastic Four book without some signature moves from Reed. He defaces a cave with a portrait of the FF, starting a cargo cult among aliens. He comes across Skrulls and turns them into cows (again!). And it’s ironic how just seconds before that he goes on a diatribe about the complexity of heroes and slavery, and the next moment he claims that all skrulls are evil. His racism and obliviousness about it are this little gem that writers often forget about. Now that I think about it, I don’t remember seeing him in the same room as Hulkling… ever? I wonder what that’s like.

He travels to the day of Doom’s failed uni experiment and attempts to find out whether Ben was responsible for creating Dr.Doom.

But through all that, Reed doesn’t find the cure. Instead, he manages to get his family almost killed and almost eaten several times. His plan failed and for all the ‘smartest man alive’ bs we keep hearing about him, he gets upstaged by both Valeria and Scott Lang. 

What we do find out is that Fantastic Four doesn’t even need a Reed. There’s a perfectly fine Stevenson Storm out there, who seems like a great guy. 

Susan, Susan, Susan… 

No matter how much progress Sue makes, she ends up right back where she started. But there is one thing Fraction and his writing team finally did for her that was long overdue – they retconned the age gap. Now Sue is in college when she meets Reed, and he’s getting his third doctorate (which, of course, doesn’t mean he’s old, you can get 15 of those by 12 in the Marvel Universe). Reed instantly falls in love with her and decides that he needs to move out because he can’t focus on his studies. It’s Sue who makes him stay. Sigh. 

She still looks up to him and for some unknown reason, she believes he makes her happy. I would like to see that once because so far everything that happens is her trying to force him to admit he’s hiding something.  

But the fact that Sue helps Reed hide this from Johnny and Ben and their kids, is disturbing. I think, Reed’s rubbing off on her. And before you ask me why should they worry the kids, let me remind you that Val is smarter than Reed. She may be a supervillain in the making (she definitely has higher chances of making it than Bentley) but when she did find out, she immediately started working the problem, and she would’ve figured it out too had it not been for side adventures. 

Anyway, Sue really goes on this “vacation” expecting rest and fun, and she isn’t even hoping to spend any time with her husband at this point. She knows he’ll find a dozen other things to occupy himself with, and she accepts that. Not because she doesn’t want attention or any kind of open communication, it feels like she’s given up on those entirely. 

The more I read about her, the more I think she deserves her own solo book, so we could learn what she’s thinking. Not what everyone else thinks of her or what she is trying to be for them, just who she is. 

The Thing 

Ben nominates Jen Walters as his temporary 4-minute replacement and sets off on an adventure with his best friend’s family… A few days later he already feels out of place. That’s not shocking, since he tends to feel that way (especially when it’s hard to think of something to do for him other than yell at Johnny and punch things). But then he starts having anger fits (that are more angry than usual) and it turns out, Reed and Sue have been keeping the big news to themselves.

That was ridiculously unfair to Ben, since he had it arguably harder than the rest — aside from being a threat to everyone around him, he had his stony exterior fall off and then his skin melted away. I can’t help but think, if things were that hopeless, he probably could find better use for his last year than to get Reed’s ass out of yet another space adventure. So he isn’t mad enough at Reed (and Sue for that matter). He really should take the time off from this codependent friendship.

Ben also goes on a solo adventure during his human form week. I’m genuinely surprised he didn’t choose to spend that time at home with Alicia but well… he decided to go to the 1940s and put the Yancy Street gang in its place. It’s a joke that’s been done and redone, but I guess every once in a while it's still fine to do a side story like that. 

Johnny: still useless? Almost

Johnny forgets that he’s supposed to pick a replacement for the team, so he quite literally calls the first random person – singer Darla Deering whom he’s dating at the time. I would say it’s the most irresponsible thing he’s done so far considering both the implications for her and the kids in the foundation. But Johnny doesn’t really have time to, you know, call Spider-Man… 

So off he goes, and he shares the adventures with the family but when he finally finds out the real reason they’re even taking this vacation, he flips. He actually flips and yells at Sue (because I think he knows at this point that Reed isn’t even considering him most of the time), and he tells her “You treat me just like he treats you” (pointing at Reed). As savage as it is, it’s also true. Sue is upset and hurt every time Reed lies and then she goes and helps him cover up something that causes Johnny to feel the exact same way. It gets to her, I don’t know if it ever gets through Reed’s head but I doubt it. Johnny’s reasonably angry, for all his tomfoolery, he’s an adult and like he said, he died for that family several times.

He should be packing his things and going but they’re on a ship. 

Old Johnny shockingly turns out to be relatively insane but way more serious. And it’s actually he, who helps fix the powers and stop the team from losing control of them (and possibly dying). So good on him for being useful for once. 

Everybody's thinking of the kids 

As a dedicated Reed-hater, I appreciate how Val is losing faith in her father. First, she gets mad at him for not telling them anything sooner (and I covered that, she could’ve handled it and helped), then she gets mad when Reed turns skrulls into cows, and then when he sends Old Man Johnny back to his time to confront Doom and die. She has a point on all three occasions and if that were her villain origin story, I’d take it and run with it. She doesn’t trust her father and that’s probably equally because she’s the only one who can understand the way he thinks and because she does the same thing on occasion. 

Franklin is more of an actual child. But it’s sad to see how all his fears and nightmares are blatantly ignored by Reed. The kid literally says he doesn’t want to go to space, and Reed’s next words are “Let’s go to space”. Congratulations, Reed, you’re as bad a parent as you are a husband (and an even worse friend). 

Meanwhile on Earth 

Yes, yes, the replacement Fantastic Four and the Future Foundation (the run cooked up by Fraction and three Allreds). Shockingly, Scott, Jen, Darla, and Medusa manage to keep it together but not for long. Maybe the Baxter Building is cursed (obviously, otherwise why would Reed live there?) but problems start for the team right away and never stop. Some of them are even custom-made by Ant-Man, because hello, grieving father. After some adventures and misadventures, he decides to go after Doom and bring along the kids. The whole irresponsible approach mixed well with Scott’s personal issues make him a good Reed stand-in, which really just mirrors the FF dynamic. Oh, and he gets together with Darla who, let’s face it, is better off anyway. 

By the way, Darla is a really fun example of a regular human being thrown into the blender that is superhero life. To be fair, everyone is taking Johnny’s pick too seriously, really, they should’ve just called Spider-Man. But she does bring a certain uncertainty and clueless charm of an outsider. 

Jen and Medusa are both former members anyway, so it’s less of an adjustment for them.

And if you thought keeping it together as FF was doable, keep in mind that there are like 10 kids running around the place, and they keep adding more. The Moloids are hilarious, Bentley is adorable with his supervillain goals, The Uhari kids are mysterious as hell, Onome is fun and clever, and Alex Power is making problems. Oh yes, the kid goes off to make a deal with Doom and everything. It’s Puuuuure Chaos! And it’s extremely fun to read. 

So what happens is Scott decides to go after Doom “once and for all”. And every time someone makes this kinda claim, we see them 10 issues later lying on their back asking “What was I thinking”? 

Scott was looking for revenge, he was having nightmares and flashbacks of Cassie’s death. On top of it all, he was trying to keep the team together and safe, all while wondering where the Fantastic Four were. And the mess that he was, he still did better than anyone expected. He was a decent caregiver for the kids, he was attentive to the rest of the team, and he designed an elaborate plan for conquering Doom. 

The most impressive thing though, was his hero moment. Something you don’t expect to see because he is only a temporary “Reed”. He’s supposed to turn everything over on its head so when the time comes and the OG FF returns, they’d be in shock seeing his failures. 

But that’s not how the story goes. He, in fact, defeats Doom and he shows Doom exactly how it felt to lose someone dear to him. No kids suffer in the process. He is reckless in his decision to go after Doom but he is also someone Doom does not expect. Just an Ant defeating Doom. It’s poetic if you remember the first encounter between the Fantastic Four and Galactus.

Let me just say, Doom (the vain little thing that he is) gets a hell of a punishment from the Living Tribunal.

This story once again proves to me (even if temporarily) how Doom and Reed are alike and that this is what makes their never-ending war… well, never-ending. It takes someone different to defeat Doom, and not become him, and Reed is not that person. 

I loved Fraction’s run. The OG team is back doing what they do best – adventure, the Foundation are up to their own set of no good and everyone is happy (except for Reed, which is fine by me). 

[blinktwicebaby]

Whumptober 2024

Day 6- unhealthy coping mechanisms

Fandom- thunderbirds

Also posted on ao3 here :)

* *

Drowning was a natural system, one that every animal on the planet was susceptible to in some way. Even whales gave up at the end of their lives and fell to the bottom of the ocean, water flooding their massive bodies and stopping them from going on anymore.

Sometimes land animals lost their way and fell into the water, screaming and thrashing until their tired bodies couldn’t keep their head above the water. They gave up because they had to, sometimes with hours of panic before their airways were blocked with water for the final time.

Sometimes they just went down too deep and couldn’t come up again in time to take a breath, doomed to their watery grave with only a couple of minutes at most with the certainty that they were going to drown.

Of course it wasn’t entirely grim. Other creatures in the water took the provided nutrients and they got to live on, at least until the water eventually took them too. From huge sharks to the tiniest microbes, the creatures in the water always won.

Gordon had seen three people drown.

He’d seen them struggling for their last gasps for air, taking in water where they’d desperately needed oxygen.

He’d seen the hope in their eyes dwindle to terror and fade to a blank, dead stare void of whatever identity they might have once had.

It happened twice in his stingray years; the first was a man named Thomas Uggins who tried to detonate a bomb underneath a cruise ship. They were supposed to bring him on board and arrest him, but he chose to drown himself instead of face the music. He died with a smile on his face that flittered almost immediately because of the current, his lifeless body drifting like a plastic bag.

The second was a teenaged boy barely younger than Gordon at the time, Gregory Axle, who’d fallen off a boat and been hit by the propeller. It cut partway into his neck and he bled out before Gordon’s team could reach him. He’d been face down in the water, the red still streaming from him. If he’d just managed to get his mouth out of the ocean, even a little bit, he’d have lived.

Neither of those had been a result of negligence, and there were plenty of brain damaged people in the world to prove the fatality of a life that a near drowning could inflict. It seemed that in some instances, death really was the much kinder alternative.

That’s what Gordon told himself at least. The sanctity of his work counted in lives opposed to livelihoods.

What about the crippling debts some families faced after emergency medical interference? Would they have preferred their loved ones deaths? Gordon didn’t think there was anything wrong with a family regretting a life, or mourning the person they’d once loved. Was it worse to live with the fact that he knew he was the one doing it to them?

Of course, most of the people he’d ever saved went home with a bad cough or a sore throat, at worst uncontrollable vomiting. Worse than the few who’d drowned, he also remembered the names of those few he’d doomed to new, harder lives.

Harriett Field. A girl who was pushed from her friend’s boat when she was 8. They’d abandoned her in the water and Stingray happened upon her by coincidence. Gordon did an hour and a half of CPR before she was put on oxygen in the ambulance, and she was still alive. She lost all conscious mobility in her limbs and was fed through a tube, and that was because of Gordon.

Johnathon Sanders. He’d had an allergic reaction while working on an electricity rig and Stingray was called out urgently. Gordon pulled him from the water, his lips purple and twice the size of his head, and given him an epipen. Water had trickled into his lungs and now he couldn’t breathe without assistance from a machine that cost thousands of dollars a month to run.

Anthony Pearson. He broke his back when his sail knocked him into the water so violently that he shattered his hips. He was still adjusting to a life without legs or function in his right arm two years later.

Felix Sellerman. Ahndeep Singh. Hillary Bethany Phillips. Roger Biller. Nancy Derwent. All of them were still adjusting to their new lives. Did they wish they’d drowned, or did they still know how valuable they were?

No. Even with the cost, the loss of limbs, the crippling medical situationships, it was better to be alive than whatever the condition of drowning made them.

The third person he’d seen drown had been a woman, Amanda Sorelli. He said she was a woman, but she’d only been 19.

He dived into the family’s 25 metre pool the next morning and ran his usual practise; a 1km warmup followed by intensive. The sun was peeking over the horizon, the orange and pink sky blotted with grey clouds that wouldn’t reach the island for hours.

His intensive swim consisted of all 4 strokes on repeat. Where his focus was usually on form, he decided that he was well overdue for strength training. Every recovery was fast, and every push was hard.

Kick off, six butterfly kicks, freestyle, stop at the other end. 20 laps, 30 seconds from one end to the other per lap. Kick off, split stroke, breaststroke, 50 metres with a turn, 20 times. Kick off, butterfly, one breath per lap. Kick off on his back, 6 butterfly kicks, lowest number of arm rotations per lap, if he didn’t match it or beat it he added two more laps.

He didn’t time his swims unless the pacer clock was needed. What he didn’t have was a real clock to tell him how long he’d been in the pool for.

The rain started tinkling down on him lightly, completely unnoticed. When it pelted down, disturbing the water and blowing light waves, he noticed but kept going. It was nothing compared to the ocean conditions he’d endured hundreds of times before. Not even the thunder brought him out. It eventually disappeared, fading into the background without his notice.

Freestyle. Two laps without breathing. Three laps. Four- his head started spinning partway through the fourth lap on his five lap pace and he threw his arm over the lane rope dividing him from the rest of the pool- the zone his brothers dubbed ‘the fun part’. His mouth didn’t quite clear the water when he took in a huge gulp of air and it delved into his lungs mixed with chlorinated pool water, piercing his lungs without any warning.

He curled into the lane rope and coughed harshly, his lungs hacking up the water with difficulty. He held onto the lane rope for dear life. When he finally recovered, his cheek was touching the water, his mouth sucking in air only a centimetre above it. He thought briefly of Harriet Field, brain dead but alive. She was quickly dismissed for Amanda Sorelli, who was simply dead.

“There’s a mission off Italy” someone called from the diving block.

Gordon kicked his legs lazily underneath him, hands still firmly on the lane rope. He’d had a go at everyone in his family at some point for doing the same, but this was different.

His chest felt frozen, like he’d been sitting outside on a freezing night. He could feel heat coming off his face and he was still heaving from the near drowning he’d given himself. It took him a moment to register what Alan had said and he shook the water from his hair. It probably didn’t improve his hearing at all, but it had become such a habit that he was convinced that it did.

“A mission?” He asked monotonously.

“Yeah, off Italy.”

Alan was sitting on the diving block with his bare feet hovering above the water kicking back and forth, a towel draped around his shoulders. The rain had reduced to a light spray that made his hair shine, but didn’t penetrate it to the roots.

“I’ll be in Thunderbird 2 in 2 minutes.”

“Scott’s taking this one” Alan said quickly, his lips curled into his mouth as he anticipated Gordon’s reaction.

As expected, he kicked his way to the diving block with venom in his eyes. He tried to pull himself out of the water, but immediately he fell back in with a splash.

He grabbed the rope instead and stared up at Alan with that same nasty look, completely ignoring the fact that his arms had just given out on him.

“He’s taking Thunderbird 4?”

“It’s an underwater rescue, so yeah.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me!?”

He sounded angry, but more than that he sounded hurt.

“You’ve been out here all day. Virgil saw you jump in before 5:30 this morning.”

“And!?”

“You’ve been swimming for 12 hours.”

Ah.

His eyes dropped shamedly and his mouth went under the water. Tiny ripples moved under his nose with every breath and his muscles started screaming at him for stopping. He grunted, the sound muted into bubbles.

“Come on” Alan said, reaching his arm down towards Gordon.

Defeated, Gordon took the hand and let Alan pull him up out of the water. He sat on the edge and Alan threw the towel from his shoulders around Gordon’s.

He felt heavy out of the water. With every effort, he lifted his legs and swivelled around so he was sitting on the dry side. Alan tugged him up and they stumbled back inside just as the rain decided to fall harder.

12 hours. Had it been enough?

“Was it a good swim at least?” Alan asked, opening the door for him.

“I don’t know yet.”

Alan laughed. “What does that even mean?”

“I’ll know the answer the next time I have to swim out to someone.”

Alan stiffened and his entire demeanour changed. His shoulders slumped sympathetically and his head cocked to the side, his fingers flexing and unflexing. Suddenly he couldn’t meet Gordon’s eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault. You did your best-”

“And it wasn’t enough” Gordon interrupted harshly, “I need to be better.”

Alan gaped at his brother.

“You’re an Olympic gold medalist! If you couldn’t get to her in time, no one could. Your best is THE best.”

“Yes, but I need to be better. Amanda Sorelli is dead… because of me.”

Water was still dripping from Gordon’s hairline. It might have been on purpose because his eyes looked shinier than they usually did.

Alan sighed. There was no getting through to him, and he knew it. Tracy stubbornness was next level.

“Scott said he’ll ban you from the pool if you keep beating yourself up.”

“Not beating myself up.”

Alan pulled a face that suggested he strongly disagreed with Gordon’s assessment. Gordon didn’t see it though because he kept closing his eyes tiredly, exhaustion pulling him from the adrenaline of his 12 hour intensive swim. He was dragging his legs and hardly seemed to notice.

He needed a shower, but there was no way he’d last through one alone.

Alan deposited him onto the shower floor and turned the stream of water away from him. He got it to a warm temperature before he turned it back. Gordon hugged his knees and closed his eyes. He might have fallen asleep, but once Alan had rinsed him and run shampoo and conditioner through his hair, shut off the water and draped a huge fluffy towel around him, he came to enough to stand up and hobble back to his room with Alan’s help.

Alan pulled pyjamas on over Gordon’s swimwear and dumped him on the bed. He’d probably get a rash, but that would be his problem.

He seemed to fall asleep somewhere between standing and lying down because his legs were dead weight as Alan slid them under the covers. He pulled the quilt over his older brother’s shoulders and watched him sleeping for just a little while longer.

He’d been so close to saving Amanda Sorelli. If he’d been a little bit faster, he would have made it and she might have come out of it unscathed. She also might have suffered irreversible brain damage, Alan reflected, and really which was worse?

But the answer was simple in his eyes. This could go on for days or weeks, with Gordon killing himself in the pool, unable to stand the fact that no matter how hard he trained, he would never save her.

Gordon didn’t know that Alan knew his phone’s password, and even though this might reveal the fact it was worth it. He turned off Gordon’s 5am alarm and put the phone on charge before leaving the room, aware that he’d have to do the same thing all over again tomorrow.

[unicorn-virus-syndrome]

let’s goooo, doing yet another one. They are very fun to make.

Baxter is causing mass destruction and mayhem with a flying cruise ship that he definitely did not steal from anyone.

Baxter: “Mwahahaha!! Yes! Cower before me demons! Accept your doom!! You are all no match for my genius!”

A small fish-bot wearing a business tie nods along with Baxter.

#23 Fish-Bot: “I concur, Dr. Baxter. Your cognitive abilities cannot be replicated.”

#33 Fish-Bot: “You have shown those imbeciles who’s in charge of this fiery purgatory. All will fear your presence.”

Baxter nodded happily.

Baxter: “Indeed! At this rate I shall cease control of the entire east-side of the pentagram by the end of the day! And no one shall stand in my way!”

#67 Fish-Bot: “Hazzah! Three cheers for Dr. Baxter and his destructive capabilities!”

#98 Fish-Bot: “Hip Hip Horray!”

Baxter: “Hell will belong to me, and everyone shall flee in terror of the name Doctor B-“

Velvette: “Bitchboy!”

Baxter: “Wha- Hey!! Who said that?”

#45 Fish-Bot: “Twas not us Dr. Baxter. Perhaps we have an intruder on this airborn vessel?”

Baxter: “An intruder?”

Just then, a small bouncy-ball with a star on it crashes through a window and lands right between Baxter and his minions. Wait. Is the ball beeping?..oh shit.

Baxter: “ACK! Take cover!!”

Baxter jumps out of the way as the ball explodes into a cloud of…glitter?

Baxter: “COUGH COUGH- Eughh, what the fuck was that?”

Another demon stands before Baxter, glaring at him with annoyance. Next to her flies a mini drone, seemingly recording the fight.

Velvette: “What the fuck do you think you’re doing on my turf, you pompous little bitch?”

Baxter: “…What???”

Velvette: “My turf. I claimed this area already so why don’t you fuck off!”

Baxter: “What are you talking about? I claimed this side of pentagram city, not you! I appeared with a battleship and everything! All you have is a glitter bomb and an attitude!”

Velvette: “Oh if you think you’re getting an attitude now you just wait! I’ll fuck you up so hard even your own mother won’t recognize you!”

Velvette proceeded to pounce at Baxter.

Baxter: “Oh shit-“

[ritchiepage2001newaccount]

Project2025 #TechBros #CorpMedia #Oligarchs #MegaBanks vs #Union #Occupy #NoDAPL #BLM #SDF #DACA #MeToo #Humanity #FeelTheBern

JinJiyanAzadi #BijiRojava Rojava Dispatch Three: Members of Commune Sehid Kawa C Decide on New Boundaries [UPDATES]

The two Hyundai minivans cruise caravan style through the backstreets of Kobane. In the first van are two representatives of the Kobane Canton’s TEV-DEM, the body charged with implementing Democratic Confederalism. In the trailing minivan I ride with the translator and driver. Tiny children play on either side of the street and seem ambivalent to the passing cars, if they can survive a month long siege by ISIS, a few stray cars are nothing…

RELATED UPDATE: HPG releases balance sheet for March: 43 occupiers killed

RELATED UPDATE: Turkish invasion is doomed to fail

RELATED UPDATE: TJK-E: Let's fill the streets with the slogan 'Jin Jiyan Azadi'

RELATED UPDATE: Call from 150 people to France to 'defend Rojava'

RELATED UPDATE: Kurdish artists in Amed: We stand by the Rojava Revolution with our art

RELATED UPDATE: Rojava Tribunal: Investigating Turkey’s war crimes, attack on a democratic revolution

RELATED UPDATE: Bayik: With the Jin Jiyan Azadi uprisings, a new process of struggle began in Iran

RELATED UPDATE: Message to Rojava from Sahrawi Solidarity Summit

FURTHER READING:

[loveletterstoeverything]

on smelling the flowers

Walk One

My dog takes great pleasure in our evening walks. I have not always felt the same. Our walks, historically, go like this: she pulls on her leash, and I follow behind doom scrolling social media on my phone. The heat of the evening feels oppressive, the breeze hot and taunting. She is happy, and I think only of getting back inside to lay down in the AC. She insists on smelling every fallen fruit and darts after bugs with joy. I endure.

On one of our very first walks together, Daisy rolls on her back, feet in the air, happier than I have ever seen her. I pull out my phone to take a quick video of her joy, feeling it rise in my chest as well, until my nose catches up with the situation. My dog, finally out of the shy shelter dog phase, has rolled in feces. Any joy I felt is lost in the realization that I will now need to wash a three legged dog who hates bath time and that I might be late to work because of it. Daisy, despite being covered in shit, seems to be even happier. 

I envy my dog for her seemingly natural propensity for joy, especially in the face of hard times. I brought her home 10 days after she lost her hind leg to a car accident, her side still scraped and scarred from the pavement. And yet the first moment we met she came bouncing over, sat in my lap and licked my face. She was sniffing flowers with her entire cone in the bushes, tail wagging like nothing bad had ever happened to her. Could I ever do the same?

In church I grew up hearing that happiness was a feeling, but joy is a choice. To a 17-year-old with severe depression, this sounded like bullshit shared to shift the blame of our pain from God to ourselves. I spent my life with a clenched fist, nails digging into my palm, enduring what the church might claim was God’s plan for my life. Expressing unhappiness was met each time with a smile and a condemnation: happiness is a feeling, joy is a choice; your feelings don’t matter, do a better job at getting rid of them. Truthfully, I still believe that this mantra was shared with the purpose of absolving the Almighty of any hand in our affliction, though I have found meaning of my own in them since.

Walk Two

My favorite time to walk with my dog is right before the sun fully sets, when the heat has started to seep out of the concrete and dissipate into the air but it hasn’t quite become dark yet. We walk along the fence of our complex, where bushes of purple flowers bloom when it rains. My sweet dog, with her flopping ears and wagging tail, has always believed in smelling every single flower for as long as necessary. I, with my allegedly important life, believe in shorter, functional walks. I believed that feeling joy and that noticing the beauty of this world and this life was something I could only achieve through time and medication and luck. 

I want to be clear: medication is for many (and certainly for me) a prerequisite to study and participate in joy. But I thought medicine would be magic. I was disappointed to discover that it functions more as a life jacket than a cruise ship. I wanted joy to happen to me, and I was frustrated to find that all the mood stabilizers and anxiety meds in the world wouldn’t bestow immediate happiness upon me. 

But here was this dog sniffing flowers. 

Why could I make hours of time for things that made me miserable but not take these ten minutes to be present, outside, a spectator to my dog’s delight? Why was I so annoyed when our walks would take longer while she took the time to smell every fallen olive from the trees, as if each would be a brand new scent? Maybe they are to her. Maybe each sniff makes her heart feel lighter, more excited to go to the next, the way I read books when I was young and joy was easy. Maybe if I stood here with her, I could learn her secret to happiness. 

Walk Three

I think Daisy knew what all dogs innately know: to experience joy we must choose to participate in it. Every walk, she knows to smell everything in reach of her nose: pink and purple flowers, a grasshopper before it leaps away, even the occasional snake. I wish I could say it only took one or even a handful of walks for my perspective to change. But it took years of walks (and of therapy, and of finding the right balance of medication) before anything clicked. Walking a dog is consistent; it requires intentionality and participation. Joy is similar. 

We cannot choose the perfect set of conditions to experience joy any more than we can make flowers bloom, but we can choose to seek all those places where the conditions are right for it. And when they do bloom, soft orange petals bursting open to the light, dirt still soft from the rain, we can choose to give into it. When we are consistent in looking for where our heart finds joy, in noticing where that little pull in our chest whispers “pay attention”, we can choose to experience that joy fully. 

Daisy reframed joy and happiness for me. Happiness is a feeling, yes – one of the many across the spectrum I can experience and express fully and with no shame. And joy is a choice; even when I might be covered in shit from my roll on the grass, I can choose to feel joy that I am alive, joy that there is grass to roll in, joy to not have a cone around my neck any longer. Daisy would.

On our walks now, when Daisy smells a flower, I smell one too. The yellow ones make me sneeze, and the purple ones smell a little like feet to me, but each time I breathe in the flowers with my dog I find myself smiling and marveling at what it is to be alive. Daisy rolls in the dirt, and even though a part of me wishes to pull her back to avoid trying to de-mud a 3-legged dog who hates baths, I take off my shoes and jump in puddles with her. I laugh and her tail wags and I realize that this is the way we choose joy. 

[novocaineheart]

Fronnie Week 2024 Day 1 - Space Heroes

Captain Freddy And The Attack of The Mutant Space Rabbit!

Captain Freddy faces off against a monsterous mutant space rabbit to save the sole survivor of a party cruise spaceship! Sort of...

Rating: General Fandom: Five Nights At Freddy's Security Breach Pairing: Glamrock Freddy/Glamrock Bonnie Characters: Glamrock Freddy, Glamrock Bonnie, Gregory Universe: Alternate Universe, Furry AU, Anthropomorphic

The ship was completely compromised and all the crew and guests were dead. The only survivor was a young boy who’d managed to hole up on the bridge and send out a distress signal from the space cruiser. From what Freddy could make out from the garbled message and the boy’s pleads a monster had snuck on board and attacked everyone in sight save for him. Freddy found himself running as stealthily as he could through the once bustling party cruise ship halls with his blasters in hand hoping the boy was still alive. He’d avoided the monster entirely but heard it lurking around as he made his final dash to the bridge where to his relief he found the boy safe and very eager to get off the doomed vessel.

They were on the home stretch now back to his own ship but had still yet to encounter the creature, which was quite horrifying from the boy’s, Gregory’s, description.  Freddy peaked around the open elevator door down the dark hallway to the stairs they needed to go down into the cargo bay where his ship was docked. He motioned the boy to follow him, creeping down the hall with his blasters held high and primed to shoot. He cleared each room they passed with the blaster lights, checking the shadows of each murky room for the monster. He still didn’t find it but had a bad feeling it was waiting for them in the docking bay and it would not let them leave alive.  They crept down the stairs, Freddy sweeping the bay with his lights over the many cargo crates and machinery that moved them around. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, it was here, hiding, waiting to attack, they had no choice but to press forward if they were to escape.

They were almost at the docking door when it finally revealed itself, leaping out between them and their exit growling. It was as horrific as the boy had said, a giant mutated rabbit with elongated limbs that would twist and twitch. It snarled though its jagged teeth and foaming mouth, glowing red eyes pierced the dark and it raised its wicked claws to attack as it stalked towards them. Freddy opened fire on the creature but it was quick to dodge his shots; hiding behind anything it could while inching closer to them, herding them to the stairs to force them back into the ship. He was able to get a few hits on it but they proved ineffective, only making the monster angrier. Full of fury it leapt at him, grabbing his blasters to throw them away. He resorted to his laser sword at his hip; it hummed as he swung its red blade at the beast but it was nimble and dodged each strike, eventually knocking it from his grasp as well to land near the frightened boy.

The boy called to him, the monster using the moment of distraction to whack Freddy to the floor and begin raking its claws over his chest, through his armor. Of all the monsters he’d fought this was the worst and he feared he wouldn’t make it this time. He looked back to the boy who yelled for him again, telling him to run and save himself but with a determined face he screamed back ‘NO’,  grabbed the sword and sliced it across the monsters chest. It screamed and stumbled back to clutch it’s bleeding chest, the boy using the opportunity to attack other parts of it. It swung at him wildly but he was able to duck from each swing. In a final move he aimed the blade high to its chest and stabbed the monster through its heart. It screeched and flailed before collapsing, a final gurgle came from its maw and its slimy tongue lolled out of its mouth. It was dead, its victims were avenged.

The boy went to Freddy to help him up who kept a hand to his chest to cover his wounds, putting his arm over his shoulder to try and help his much bigger rescuer back to his ship, sitting him down on a seat inside.

“Thank you Gregory. I had thought I would be coming to your rescue but in the end you came to mine, you have my deepest gratitude and I shall be forever in you dept.” He bowed his head to the boy.

“I was just doing what you told me to do when you found me, to be brave oh look the lights are back on.”

Freddy looked up from the pool chair he was sitting on to their house now lit up again after the black out.

“Dad come on we can finish the movie now!”

He followed his son back inside, watching him sidestep the Nerf guns and darts littering the floor before jumping over the mutant space rabbit still playing dead on the floor.

“Dad get up!”

“Can’t, you killed me.” Bonnie rasped around his still out tongue.

Gregory pulled the foam sword out of Bonnie’s armpit where he ‘stabbed’ him and started hitting him with it to get him up only making Bonnie laugh before yelling ‘it’s still alive!’ and grabbing the brown bear boy to mercilessly tickle him in penance for his attack. He wasn’t related to them by blood but he was just as ticklish as Freddy. He managed to wriggle out of Bonnie’s hold giggling while he ran to turn the TV back on.

“Can we have ice-cream?” Gregory asked Freddy who’d watched the whole scene amused.

“Sure, pick whatever flavor you want.”

Gregory scrambled over to the kitchen while Freddy came to stand next to his husband who was still lying on the ground.

“Are you going to get up?”

“Can’t, I’m dead.”

Freddy huffed but reached down for Bonnie to grab his offered hand and pull him up.

“Did you use whipped cream to make it look like you were foaming at the mouth?”

“Yep, did it work? Did I look like a terrifying mutant space rabbit?”

“Oh yes it was very terrifying, I thought you’d truly gone rabid.”

Bonnie scoffed and was pulled closer to Freddy by the arm around his waist.

“You do still have some cream on your lip though…”

Freddy leant down to kiss Bonnie which only led to more kissing then an exaggerated ‘eww’ from their young son in the kitchen who thought it was gross watching his dads kiss, so they did it more until he told them he wouldn’t let them have any ice-cream if they kept doing it which just made them laugh more, they’d never want to miss out on that.

[ohmystarrynight]

The Miller Farm in June

There is no progress without fear! No growth without discomfort! Being so brave and sharing my writing even if it makes me writhe in agony :) enjoy the little blurb/snippets about my oc below the cut if u want ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Cassius lay in bed, thoughts continuing to swirl around in his head as he drifted between sleep and wake. It was a blissfully peaceful state he hardly found himself in. That is, until this summer began.

There was always a gnawing sense of dread or impending doom to be felt with his line of work, an unrelenting knot in his stomach and a racing mind that couldn’t be silenced. Everyone was always out for blood, or revenge or god knows what else. But here…

Here, time was slowed, as if in its own little bubble. It was safe from anything and everything outside of it, untouchable. Here, his work couldn’t possibly interfere. Here, he could breathe.

Clark had made him feel incredibly welcome from the very beginning, of course. Nothing, however, could have prepared Cass for the days after that first semester; of their first meeting. Never before had he laughed so much, nor had he ever truly, properly relaxed. Not once, in his twenty-one years on earth, had he expected anything Clark had in store.

Not the malt shop, not the carnival. Not the cruises in Clark’s truck with Elvis Presley and Patsy Cline and Doris Day and Johnny Mathis coming through a staticky station. No, not a force on earth could have prepared him for the accidental grazes of their hands, nor their proximity when they sat on the tailgate sipping sweet tea, leaving no space between each other. All too often Cassius found himself thinking -more than he should- of the way the summer heat would leave their thighs stuck and faces flushed. The way they would bump together while Clark mindlessly swung his feet as they talked for hours. Or even of the feeling that shot through him the first time Clark had yanked him into an exuberant embrace while he cheered about something on the television. They were watching The Lone Ranger… or something along those lines… Cass could hardly care to recall. The rest of that night was spent staring at his ceiling gnawing on his lip while his heart hammered against his chest. Though he wondered how many of those times were just the sweat and the heat and how much of it really was…. Regardless, the suspense to follow in wake of these ‘accidents’ left Cass reeling. Each night would end the same way, with confusion, fear and guilt writhing and churning and fighting for dominance until he could finally persuade sleep to take over. It wasn’t always just those three, though. Sometimes fondness and warmth joined the mix, along with curiosity and a fascination with it all, which really only lead to confusion again. The cycle continues. Before this summer, if someone had told him any of this would happen, he would have thought them insane. Because for him to have a life like that, well, that sounded a lot like having a home.



Home.

He supposed he did rather think of this place like home. He’d never had a home before, nor a friend, but he could tell Clark was a good one. All because…

Well, because he feels like home.

Cass’s eyes snapped open.

Home??

His heart raced as icy panic shot up his spine, tensing every muscle he had.

You know damned well why this cannot be home. Get ahold of yourself.

What was he doing? What was he thinking? He wasn’t sure what terrified him more: the risks Clark and his mother unknowingly took by insisting he stay with them during the summer, or how easily he gave in to them. Was it all that tempting?

Surely, his will was stronger than a few pleas? An offer of a place to sleep and home-cooked meals?

Stronger surely, than all those hot days spent swimming with Clark in the lake.

Or than the nights spent in the back of his truck bed watching fireflies dance and stars twinkle while crickets and peepers and owls sang their serenades in competition with the radio.

Incredibly selfish. The very idea- the danger you’ve already put them in… that you continue to put them in, every day you spend here!

Cassius ran his shaking hands over his face, scrubbing away whatever lingering feeling of sleep his sudden anxiety neglected. He tossed the covers back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The alluring temptation to lay down again almost instantly beckoned him. To simply put his head back on the pillow and be welcomed once more by the serene dreamlike trance he was in just moments earlier. To hell with the day, to hell with this sudden anxiety.

But no.

Opting instead to stand, to somewhat clumsily make his way to the bathroom and splash cold water on his face, Cass pushed the panic and guilt back down inside his chest, somewhere deep and far enough away to allow for a halfway decent rest of his day. It could churn and writhe as much as it would like when he tried to find sleep again later. For now, he was completely. Fine. He owed them that much at minimum.

Clark was a bit more perceptive than Cass really liked, but he would never push Cass into an explanation. That much he could appreciate. But Clark’s mother was a force to be reckoned with. Her radar was truly the most fine-tuned instrument of empathy Cassius had ever encountered, (must be one of those ‘motherly’ things) and he’ll be damned if he gave it any reason to go off. Their generosity and hospitality, their kindness; it was already more than he could afford. There was no need to worry them.

Surely, any threat would have presented itself by now? Wishful thinking, Cass knew, but it was the only thought keeping him from losing it completely, or from up and leaving in the dead of night to lure any impending danger away from his beloved little ‘family’. It wouldn’t be hard to do, of course. And he’d, of course, have no trouble at all leaving any of this behind. The thought of his other life colliding with his new one was just as nauseating as it was dangerous.

Family?

Was that how he thought of them? Who was he kidding? What on god’s green earth had he gotten himself into?

So to the thought he clung, with all of his confusion and guilt and fascination and hope attached. Desperately. Needily.

Selfishly.

[kyndaris]

One BILLION Dollars

Working five days a week, 7.5 to 8 hours each day, and commuting a total of two hours is an exhausting cycle most people find themselves trapped in. Is it any wonder we all wish to strike it lucky and escape the rat race? I know I certainly do. Saddled with a mortgage and looking to eventually move out, the idea of being able to freely do whatever I want with all the time in the world, without the threat of ending up destitute hanging over me like the Sword of Damocles is a very appealing idea.

But I wouldn't need a billion dollars to be comfortable. No. At most it would be a lump sum of five million that would see me cruise through the rest of my life. Especially if I choose to continue working part-time, or use the my freed up obligations to become a full-time author. Throw in a few lavish overseas holidays and I would be golden.

And yet the hypothetical still reamins.

If I had a billion dollars at my disposal, what would I use it for? It is, after all, a ridiculous amount of money.

When I was first presented with this question on my first date with Dikottir, I'd focused on the good I might do. Invest some of the money in stocks, perhaps create a fund to help out the homeless and give poverty a kick in the nuts. Or maybe I'd pour it into actual rehabilitation programs instead of the very punitive systems most governments have in place for criminals. What about youth outreach programs? Heck, affordable housing!

The list, it felt, was endless.

Especially as I'd not be beholden to the limitations governments face when they try to spend taxpayer dollars to fund a means to better society. I, a person of means, could give back to the many. There wouldn't be any need to appease a section of the community who think helping people to develop life skills is utter tripe or who think handouts simply enable bad habits.

Of course, I wouldn't need a billion dollars to pull some of these projects off. 75 million here, 100 million there...

After I'd done all the good I could possibly do in the world to make it a better place, there's still the possibility I'd have money left over.

How much I'd still have is unknown, but I think I could say with confidence that I'd probably still have enough to buy myself a Ferrari if I was so inclined. Maybe a slew of properties I'd watch grow. And live comfortably.

What if, though, I threw away all such expectations of helping the needy? If I had a billion dollars to invest into just one thing, what would it be?

Should I, perhaps, build myself a penile looking rocket to take me up into space a la Jeff Bezos? What about constructing a whole virtual world like Mark Zuckerberg?

I mean, with humanity rushing up to meet its doom - whether that be from global warming, microplastics, nuclear showdown, other hazardous chemicals we put into things supposedly to help us - who wouldn't want to escape from our current reality? I know I certainly would.

But I must admit, the technology I'd really want to invest in is something akin to what Elon Musk has dreamt up. And it's been seen in many a science fiction show or game. In fact, a version of it can be seen right now. Depending on the app of course.

I'm talking about augmented reality.

Shows tell us we would be swiping at menus and screens in mid-air. But I'd like to think we would do away with such limitations and scrolling through news articles, or, ahem, questionable fanfiction could be done with just a thought.

Imagine, if you will, the possibilities.

There you are, doing something mind-numbingly boring and repetitive at work? What if you could also be doing something else? Multi-task by watching a movie on a transparent overlay?

And why stop there?

The internet is already at our fingertips. What if you could look at something and have the information already beamed to you. That's not a random flower you see struggling to peek through the cracks in the footpath. No, that's a dandelion. If we wanted to be more technical, its scientific name is taraxacum officinale. Family: asteraceae.

Think of how useful having a toggleable heads up display would be!

Yes. If I had a billion dollars, I'd use it to create something akin to the Horizon: Zero Dawn focus. It's light, it's versatile and it looks pretty snazzy.

And if I have some money left over, I can pour it all into creating the ultimate space shuttle for out of space. Maybe one shaped like a questionable taco? Yes, the logistics might take some figuring out, but rocket designs are so bland that something a little creative might help our scientists stretch the other parts of their brains.

Who knows, we could have gummi ships in the future!

If I had another billion dollars, perhaps that's where I'll pour all my money into!

True, I might be pulling a Bezos and trying to escape our dying planet. But at least I'm doing it in style!

And, honestly, that's probably what matters more.

Now I just need to think up a snappy name for my trillion dollar company.

[warningorder]

THE LAST STAND OF THE GUARDS

The Gulf War’s Ground Campaign and Iraqi Resistance

Good day everybody! Since I loudly declared I would be leaving Twitter until the Afrikaner rodent was dead or missing, I felt I should post this pet-project of mine here instead of on Twitter as a thread.

The Gulf War, at least in its political aspects, was a modern iteration of the Battle of Waterloo, as it represented the decisive military triumph of reaction over progress and development. It was, as Victor Hugo once described Waterloo, “intentionally a counter-revolutionary victory”. It was Iraq against the status-quo. It was the revolutionary Arabism of Baghdad against the triumphant imperialism of Washington D.C, the reactionary backwardness of Riyadh, the comprador-ship and treacherous realpolitik of Cairo and Damascus. The final extinction of that vast people which had been in eruption for thirty-five years, since 1956–such was the dream.

However, that is not what I will be talking about today. See, as much as I would like to delve into the political & historical consequences of this great war, I wish to cover its military details, unlike what Hugo did with Waterloo. Today, I shall be focusing of the Coalition’s ground offensive and the Iraqis’ doomed attempt at resistance. So let’s set the scene.

Bombs over Baghdad and Gorbachev’s Deal

A month has passed since the Coalition started its massive air campaign over the skies of Iraq. A vast armada of close to 2.800 jets and hundreds of cruise missiles hit Iraq’s industrial centers, civilian infrastructure, energy production facilities, even research reactors, with the goal of quite simply returning Iraq, until then the Middle East’s sole modern economy, back into the stone age. More bombs were dropped on Iraq in a month than were dropped on Berlin, Germany’s capital, throughout all of WW2. The Coalition had more or less proven its point, and Iraq wanted out.

An agreement was reached with the Soviet Union, with the hopes that this would present a fait accompli to the Coalition and have them cease the bombings (and hopefully even end the sanctions). According to this agreement, Iraqi ground forces would immediately begin pulling out their units from the “Kuwaiti Theatre of Operations”, with the last units leaving in around a few weeks. In fact, a shadow retreat was already being allowed to happen, with individual divisions ‘melting away’ and reconstituting themselves back in Baghdad. With Tariq Aziz (Iraq’s Deputy PM & Foreign Minister) announcing Gorbachev’s deal and the pullout of all Iraqi forces from the KTO on the radio on the 22nd of February, this shadow retreat suddenly turned into a large and chaotic movement of units still under air attacks, with large traffic queues and more-or-less total abandonment of all Iraqi defensive works which had been prepared in the south of Iraq as well as inside Kuwait (like the well-known “Saddam line”).

As Iraqi troops were hastily withdrawing from their prepared defensive positions and clogging up the vast road networks of Iraq and Kuwait with huge lines of trucks, heavy vehicle transporters, tanks and other military equipment, the Coalition knew it had to act fast. The conclusion of the Gulf Crisis through Soviet mediation and without a crushing defeat of the mass of the Iraqi military was considered an unacceptable result, and thus plans were quickly drawn up to lunge forward at the retreating enemy columns and shatter the mass of the Iraqi military as it was attempting a cumbersome and chaotic march back towards Baghdad, Karbala, Najaf and Basra.

The first Coalition attacks struck (and quickly scattered) vastly outnumbered and confused stragglers from infantry divisions which had been attempting to withdraw from their prepared defensive fortifications. After quickly dealing with these minor centers of resistance, the Coalition units started a large-scale ground offensive relying on shock and speed to either cut off the retreat of Iraqi units on the road or to hit them from the behind and shatter them. Iraq’s military leadership, after shaking off the violent shock of the ground attack (and in their eyes, from the shock of Gorbachev’s betrayal), made the hard and rational, yet arguably callous, choice of ordering their armored-mechanized Republican Guard formations to immediately turn 180 degrees and lunge forward towards the Coalition offensive to either meet them in hastily and rather shoddily improvised defensive positions or to counter attack them with the purpose of delaying their general advance, so the rest of the 50 division strong Iraqi military could withdraw back to Iraq relatively unscathed. With great difficulty, these ‘elite’ formations were able to extract themselves from the large traffic jam which had almost entirely paralyzed the movement of panic-stricken Iraqi units and prepare themselves for the coming battle. This would be their last stand, for they were the modern iteration of Napoleon’s Old Guard, who had been cut down by British musket fire yet fought until destruction, to the bitter end.

Although the Republican Guard had been the preferred target of continuous Coalition air attacks from the outbreak of the war, they had not suffered serious losses due to their safety precautions and effective camouflage procedures. In an interview, a Republican Guard commander claimed that despite attacks from the most advanced planes at the Coalition’s disposal, his forces had suffered relatively few losses. In fact, attacks by A-10 aircraft would have to be called off for the rest of the campaign after suffering significant losses due to RG operated Strela-10 SAM systems.

When the ground offensive got underway on the 24th of February, the Coalition forces stepped up their bombing campaign on the Republican Guard, using large numbers of aircraft and combat helicopters that attacked them constantly. To make sure his units could set up mutually supporting defensive lines in the chaos of the 180 degrees turn and expected attacks by the Coalition’s tank forces, the commander of the Republican Guard decided to transfer the ‘Tawakalna’ RG Division to rear positions in order to close the gap between the ‘Adnan’ and ‘Al-Medina’ RG Divisions.

‘Mother of All Battles’

On the division’s way to its new position, they suffered an air attack followed immediately by an extensive armored assault in which 3 divisions from the American 7th Corps took part, with massive air support. The battle - known as ‘Battle of 73 Easting - was fought mainly between elements of the ‘Tawakalna’ Division and forces from the US 1st and 3rd Armored Divisions, the 1st Infantry Division and 2nd Armored Cavalry Regiment. American artillery and MLRS batteries played an important role in the battle.

The ‘Tawakalna’ Division fought an incredibly hard battle in difficult visibility conditions due to heavy dust that was stirred on the sandy terrain. Some of its formations were badly damaged but the division succeeded in reaching its rear positions, ending its participation in the war. Parallel to this, the Americans also attacked the lines of the ‘Nebuchadnezzar’ and ‘Adnan’ RG Divisions, even succeeding penetrating the Iraqi defensive lines on the morning of 27 February. As a result of the withdrawal and partial destruction of the ‘Tawakalna’ Division, Republican Guard Commander Gen. Iyad al-Rawi ordered the ‘Hammurabi’ RG Division to advance its 17th Armored Brigade to occupy new positions on the border between the sectors of the ‘Adnan’ and ‘Al-Medina’ Divisions.

The brigade moved to its new positions followed by 2 additional mechanized brigades and prepared for a counter attack. According to their version, the Iraqis sought a confrontation with the Americans advancing towards them from the West, and all of the Republican Guard’s artillery units bombarded American positions for over 3 hours. Next, the 17th Armored Brigade along with 21st Commando Brigade attacked in the sector of the ‘Adnan’ Division in Rumelia and managed to push back the forces that had occupied the defensive positions of one of its battalions. The ‘Adnan’ Division was later instructed to move in the direction of al-Qurna.

Another clash occurred between forces of the ‘Al-Medina’ Division and the American 7th Corps on the night of 26-27 February, after the latter attacked the Iraqi 14th Mechanized Brigade. The division mounted a counter attack with its 2nd Armored Brigade, reinforced by additional battalions, forcing the enemy to withdraw its forces to the rear. As a result, the American forces in the area increased their artillery fire in order to block the Republican Guard forces, who were attacking relentlessly and even making minor advances in some sectors.

The American 1st Infantry Division, which tried to advance across the sand dunes to flank the Iraqi line from behind, got stuck in this area, becoming a target for Iraqi artilllery and retreating helter-skelter from the area. At that point, forces from the ‘Hammurabi’ Division arrived in force in the sector between the ‘Adnan’ and ‘Al-Medina’ Divisions, deploying to mount a counter attack along with the ‘Al-Medina’ Division— a move that had the potential to threaten and encircle forces from the American 7th Corps in the Iraqi view.

While all this was taking place, forces of the US 18th Corps attacked the Special Forces Division of the Republican Guard in the Nasiriyah sector. An American force the size of a brigade (from the 101st) was also operating inside Iraqi territory in the Basra-Nasiriyah axis. The corps’ forces (82nd and 24th Divisions) mounted a frontal assault on the Iraqi positions from the south and west, attempting to gain control over them. Brutal fighting developed and continued throughout the day and into the night of 26-27 February, with the Iraqis, supported by heavy artillery fire, demonstrating very stubborn fighting spirit. In the end, the attack was stopped by the resistance of the Special Forces Division and by the heavy fog which covered the entire area.

Post-Battle Assessment

The Iraqis viewed these two battles - of the ‘Hammurabi’ and ‘Al-Medina’ Divisions and of the special forces in the Nasiriyah area - as a great victory for the Republican Guard, which had warded off a combined attack of two American corps on Basra and Southern Iraq. In their eyes, these developments, along with the 7th Corps’ failure to slice through the lines of the Republican Guard’s armored forces, had prevented the Coalition forces from taking control of Southern Iraq, destroying the mass of the retreating Iraqi military and/or disrupting their withdrawal back to Iraq. They portrayed the battles conducted by the Republican Guard as being among the greatest armored battles fought in modern history since WW2 in terms of the size of the formations and the number of armored vehicles taking part.

In their eyes, they had at least temporarily succeeded in effectively defending against and pushing back various American assaults, and even partially enveloping the American 1st Infantry Division, albeit very briefly. They concluded that the American High Command’s concerns about the 7th Corps taking further casualties and even being pushed back by the ‘Hammurabi’ and ‘Al-Medina’ Divisions caused them to agree to a ceasefire on the 28th of February and to put an end to the fighting. However, the Gulf War as a whole caused horrendous losses to Iraqi ground forces, who according to statistics from the USAF lost 2.500 tanks, 1.500 APCs, and 2.200 artillery pieces to enemy ground and air fire. However, later studies of Iraqi casualties during the war have shown them to have taken around 15.000 to 25.000 casualties, indicating that the RG had, in the end, succeeded in its task of sacrificing its own armored-mechanized brigades and divisions to allow the mass of the Iraqi army in the KTO (around 900.000 men) to retreat relatively unscathed back into Iraq. These forces, as well as the remnants of the RG, would prove pivotal in the Iraqi government’s response to the uprisings and mass-infiltration attempts of 1991.

Thanks for your attention! For further reading I would recommend Majid Khadduri’s “War in the Gulf”, the “Iraqi Perspectives Project” article covering the Gulf War, Pesach Malovany’s “Wars of Modern Babylon” and lastly the article “Correcting Myths about the Persian Gulf War: Last Stand of the Tawakalna Division”.

[doamarierose-honoka]

Boruto has gained significant attention in recent months, especially after the Blue Vortex time skip, and a character who has become one of the most prominent in the story is Eida. From her character design to her nature as a cyborg, Eida is someone the fandom has appreciated quite a lot, and one of the reasons was her most powerful ability, Omnipotence.The Omnipotence ability can lead most characters in Boruto, bar the ones who have blood connections to her or are part of the Otsutsuki race, to be charmed by her. However, the ability can also switch a person's place and role, as happened with the title character and Kawaki. Now, there is information that the inspiration behind the ability can explain much of it.

Disclaimer: This article contains spoilers for the Boruto series. Any opinion expressed here belongs to the author and not Sportskeeda.

The inspiration behind Eida's Omnipotence ability in Boruto

There is a fan theory that Eida's Omnipotence could be inspired by Ryōsuke Takeuchi and Takeshi Obata's 2014 manga known as All You Need is Kill, which was adapted in the West as a film titled Edge of Tomorrow, starring Tom Cruise and Emily Blunt. The main character of that manga has to live the same day over and over again, which is something that connects with Eida's ability.This is further emphasized in recent chapters of the manga when Boruto is talking with Shikamaru Nara, stating that they have had this conversation in the past and that the new Hokage will forget it soon. That theory could explain why it feels like Sarada Uchiha has been saying the same thing for the last three years: the events are repeating themselves, and the protagonist is, on paper, doomed to relive these moments.Of course, much like in the movie, Boruto could potentially fix this situation since there is a chance of him changing things. The solution, as a theory, could be him making some changes to the events and different situations in the hopes that it could affect the flow of things, which is something that author Masashi Kishimoto could aim for with the recent plots in the manga.

The current state of the series

The cover of the first volume of Blue Vortex (Image via Shueisha)

Boruto is a series that has had a lot of ups and downs since it started, although there is general consensus that the Blue Vortex time skip has been one of the best decisions for this manga in the long run. Compared to many other moments in the series, there is a common conception that this is the best period of the story thus far.This is because of several reasons, such as the protagonist's current state as an outlaw, Eida's manipulations through her Omnipotence, the whereabouts of key characters such as Naruto and Sasuke, and the impending threat of the clones at the moment. There is a lot to unpack in the series at the moment, which is why there is so much interest in the fandom now.Perhaps the biggest challenge at the moment for author Masashi Kishimoto is giving these plot points the conclusion they deserve. Kishimoto has been criticized for not sticking the landing on many of his biggest plots in both Naruto and Boruto, so it is going to be interesting to see what happens in the coming months.

Final thoughts

Eida's Omnipotence ability in Boruto could be inspired by the All You Need is Kill manga, also known as Edge of Tomorrow, because of the Western film adaptation by Tom Cruise. This is because both situations have led to the main character having to deal with an endless cycle of the same day constantly repeating itself.