#going to craft stores sober is like this too

[hunnylagoon]

Candy

PT1: Sober to Death

Ellie Williams x Reader

I’m home and here to stay like a ghost to haunt. You can’t shake me off your back for I linger in your head like carelessly uttered curse. Summer falls to ashes in my mouth and so I will spit them into your urn, just like that all of my devotion turns violent.

Premise: After a mental break you are being held together by nothing but glitter glue and craft yarn. You seek refuge with an old friend in a coastal town to live the life you thought you left behind.

Warnings: SENSITIVE THEMES / reader is a recovered addict / mentions of drug and alcohol abuse / angst / brief mentions of violence / possibly triggering discussions of drug addiction

Read at your own discretion

Inside me, something seethes. Inside me, some feral animal has been forced into a cage where it thrashes and screams. Perhaps I will turn into a snarling wolf and rip out the throats of each girl who made me go home crying in middle school. Maybe I will don the pelt of a sheep and surprise all of those who convinced me it was a good idea to try ketamine when I shed my cloak and reveal my long curled claws and fangs sharp as knives.

I'm heartless at worst and helpless at best.

I don't know how else to be. I was raised like a stick of dynamite lit from both ends and I can describe in detail how the earth warps beneath my feet or how I watch the sky bend until it snaps and collapses onto a body too tired to lift it back up.

Everything miles ahead of what I was, to them, I was only ever an addict. Cursed with the nickname 'popper' since tenth grade and everyone thought it to be nothing more than a joke they didn't know how I found serenity in the tablet of acid that rested on my tongue. 

It started with pot and drinking on the weekends then flew into full-blown benders when I swallowed back synthetic sunshine like it was candy. None of my friends thought I would end up with my back plastered on my dorm floor, eyes wide with what once was a bottle of pills frothing out of my mouth. 

It took me two overdoses to get here, had to put my white blood cells to work.

"I didn't think you'd be up this early," Joel smiled at me, he was nursing a mug of coffee, a plate in front of him with a half-eaten piece of toast and a golden yoke running onto the porcelain. That might've been my favourite thing about the farm, fresh eggs. Once you have them you can never go back to the sad pale grocery store eggs.

"That makes two of us," I pulled out a chair from the wooden dining table and sat down. Joel had put so much love into this home. These days I’m too nauseous to eat breakfast.

"Ellie doesn't even wake up this early," He took a slug of his black coffee, the scent was strong, filling up the entire house, I could smell it the second I woke up. "How's the room? Is everything to your liking?"

I had felt so guilty for free-loading off Joel whom I hadn't seen since I was twelve, it had been eight years. He sent me cards on my birthday every year but I never was able to grasp how close our parents had been. I'm pretty sure I was friends with Ellie when I was little, there were pictures of the two of us hugging each other and playing beneath sprinklers, my front teeth missing, Ellie covered head to toe in Spider-Man band-aids. I didn't have any recollection of us when we were close, as we got older we got more stiff around each other. When my family would visit, she would hang out with her friends and I would keep to myself. Of course, my parents moved us to the city where everything hit me too hard all at once. "It's perfect, thank you."

"It's pretty hard to peel yourself off that mattress, huh?" Joel smiled at me, showing me every ounce of warmth he had when I was a child.

I nod in response "So much more comfortable than those stiff dorm mattresses," It almost felt like I was making conversation with a ghost.

"Since you're up so early, care for a tour while I do some chores?" He asked. I had been here a few days already, though I just kept to myself I didn't want to impose on his pleasant life with his daughter who hadn't called him at three am sobbing because she had too many opioids. I had wandered briefly around the farm of course and I had remembered bits and pieces of it from my childhood but I felt so out of place that I mainly locked myself inside of my temporary room and lived through my friend's Instagram stories.

"I'd love to," I smile politely, unsure of what else to do. 

 "Do you think you're gonna go back to school?" Joel asked as he stood up with his plate and mug in hand and began to wash them in the stainless steel sink. "No pressure, there's life outside of a lecture hall."

This was a question I had been thinking about day in and day out. I was a year and then some into getting my degree when my 'fun habits' began spiralling uncontrollably. My parents had managed to snag me a two-year deferral so I could go to rehab and go back to school the following year but I was so full of shame that I shook with the thought of going back. For the first time in my life, I am afraid I have no real desires. 

When I was dead inside a motel bathtub, I thought I needed to be somewhere different but now that I'm there, I need to be someone different too. "I'm not really sure right now, just please don't tell my parents I said that."

"Secrets safe with me," He opens a cabinet and pulls out a bag of cat food, shaking it until a scrawny calico cat appears out of thin air. Pepper happily devours the food Joel puts in her little bowl. I remembered Pepper, she was a kitten way back then and I would cut open socks to make clothes for her. "You should just know that it's never too late."

Very early in my life, it was too late. "Thanks, Joel," Not yet a corpse and still I rot like all of my ambitions turn to sludge at my tired feet.

He looks around, exhaling a deep breath, trying to scope out anything else he has to do in the kitchen. "You outta get geared up, I'm gonna wake up Ellie then me and you can get to work."

I nod in agreement even though I'm not sure what he means by 'gear up' so I figure that's just him saying to put on a hoodie and some rain boots. I stand awkwardly by the door, waiting for Joel. Absentmindedly I rock back and forth on my heels hands clasped together. I'm twenty years old but I feel like I'm twelve again, trying to find a place for myself in someone else's life. 

I thought of the last time I was in this house. I was twelve, unaware of the future that awaited me, I had buried a time capsule with Ellie and her cousins somewhere on this property. Writing to my future self, talking about all of the things I should be. If only she saw the brain-rotten zombie that was her destiny.

My parents had told everyone back home I was backpacking across Australia and taking a break from academics to see the world. In the eyes of those who knew me well and were more than aware of what happened, it was a shame to them that I had wasted a sharp brain and a pretty face. It takes a whole lot of strength the endure myself.

It doesn't take long for Joel to walk back down the creaky stairs, Ellie trailing behind him, sleep in her eyes. She's in boxers and one of Joel's old t-shirts, hair still messy and unbrushed. Ellie yawns and gives me a little wave- it wasn't really a wave, just her raising a hand in my direction as an acknowledgment. 

We hadn't spoken much since I got here, I had met her in the past but we didn't know each other. A lot can change in eight years. She wasn't unfriendly toward me, we indulged in small talk and laughed at each other's jokes but each conversation was so shallow I wanted to lay face down and drown in them. 

Ellie goes straight for the fridge, unlike her dad, she pours milk into a sickly sweet cereal which seems cavity-inducing. She was back from college for the summer, taking advantage of her father's love and food. Joel walked over to where I was standing at the door, slipping into his mucking boots. "While you're both here," He says before looking at me "How much do you know about boats?"

I furrow my eyebrows "A good bit I guess?" I answer, figuring he was just trying to rekindle a spark between Ellie and me that had been put out eight years ago by rain, ocean spray, and vodka.

"Y'know, Els," He gestures towards me "This one used to work at her parent's marina, they tell me she's done a couple of repairs and I bet she could give you some pointers on how to fix up that boat." I'm confused by his words, this is the first I've heard about a boat. Joel can see the uncertainty on my face "Her uncle gave her a piece of shit boat last summer before she went back to school, over the year I guess some teenagers thought it was a good hideout and trashed it even more."

"Seriously?" Her head pokes up "It would be great if you could come down with me later, she just needs a little love," Ellie spoons some cereal into her mouth. I had always thought it weird how people spoke about their boats like they were women, I even caught myself doing it on occasion. "Only if you want to, of course."

"Sure," I agree, no idea how much repair this boat was in need of "I've got nothing better to do."

I could tell Joel counted this as a win. I knew he had been commuting with my parents and how desperately they wanted me to keep myself occupied for the summer. "Well, we've got some work to do, kiddo."

After a solid five hours of following Joel around like a duckling and re-learning all the names of the animals, I was walking with Ellie toward her pickup truck. "Wanna drive?" She asks as we walk to the long beaten driveway

"Oh, I can't." The coolness of the morning has ebbed away into a borderline unbearable heat, I wasn't sure how Ellie was absolutely unfazed in her Jeans, T-shirt, and trucker hat. 

"You never got your licence?"

"No, it got taken away."

She cracks a grin "Jeez, what did you do? Hit a pedestrian?" Ellie teases.

"Something like that," Truthfully, my licence got revoked after I got a DUI and swerved my car off the highway, I was too high to realize the danger I was in and laughed the entire time warm blood pooled from a gash in my head that had to be stapled shut. Luckily my parents can throw money at anything and the problem will go away. 

She hops in the truck, there are little bits and pieces of it that show how it's lived in. A rubber duck with sunglasses sits on the dashboard and I'm partially surprised it hasn't melted in the sweltering heat. 

As beautiful and scenic as the drive down to the docks is, it's also extremely awkward, only on my end, Ellie seems completely unfazed. Travelling down the dirt roads until we finally hit the pavement. 

The salty breeze of Andromeda Cove carries conversations of clubbing and tanning, mingling with the sweet scent of coconut sunscreen and sea salt. Colourful beach umbrellas dot the shoreline. Seagulls glide effortlessly overhead, their calls blending seamlessly with the distant laughter of beachgoers. Quaint shops and cafes line the bustling boardwalk, offering an array of surfboards, souvenirs, and freshly caught seafood delicacies.

The Cove was immune to those gross and bland modern buildings that looked like something I would've made in Minecraft as a kid. Everything down here was local and kept its charm even after all these years. "Do you ever miss it here?" 

"I don't remember much of it to be honest."

"Really?" She asks, taking a turn down to the docks "It doesn't seem like it was that long ago."

"Yeah, my memory just isn't very good." My lungs are burnt and my brain is fried. You could tell me that I was in cheerleading for five years of my life and I would probably believe you. 

"Alright." 

I hadn't remembered her being this quiet but then again I don't remember much, I should probably write down everything I can before Alzheimer's sets in. There are lapses in my mind where memories should live, I recall my life through glimpses.

Ellie takes her keys out of the ignition and hops out of the truck, leading me down the docks. I keep guessing in my head which boat belongs to her and then the second I spot it, I know and how I dread. It's a sailboat or what's left of one, sharpie graffiti scribbled all around it. The word 'wanderlust' had once been titled along the side though the first half was scratched out by what I assume were those teenagers Joel mentioned so it just said 'lust'.

Ellie had no problem climbing aboard, I on the other hand had doubts that it could support the weight of two people, let alone itself. There were chips of white paint scraped off, Ellie motioned for me to get on deck  "How long has this been abandoned?"

She waves me off  "There's freedom that comes with abandonment."

I raise an eyebrow "Sinking in a boat that's docked is a very lame way to die."

"Nah," She says "We can haunt the marina."

She holds out her hand for me to take it and with hesitation, I do. Stepping over the gap between the dock and the boat, I haul myself over the rails. Even in the dark, I could make that climb, it was almost like muscle memory from working at my parents marina summer after summer. "She's a beauty, yeah? In her own special kind of way," Ellie pats the side of the companionway. "I actually made some progress on it last summer, if you can believe me."

"I don't know if I can," I look around, following her as we duck into the saloon.

She reaches for a notebook with a pink sharpie clipped onto it on the table of the saloon and turns to face me "Whoever was here must've been a real wordsmith, what I can't figure out is how the words got out of the notebook and onto my walls." 

I crawl onto the cushioned V-berth to get a better look at all of the writing on the walls. Most of it had been poetry, not Edgar Allen Poe but the kind that only an angsty teenage girl on the verge of a mental break could've written. 

The Statue of Juliette:

May I ask what you have done to women?

That your hands have only learned to harm one

Hand after filthy hand

Is dragged

Groped

Caressed

Prodded

Over my rusted skin

The things I have seen

The things I have endured

No water can clean me

No blanket can warm me

Take a hammer to my bronze flesh

And I will thank you for your kindness

As my body crumbles and clatters against cobblestone

I am eternally grateful

For this is the gentlest act I have ever faced

"I know," Ellie says, and I look back to meet her sharp gaze "A real Sylvia Plath.”

"Is this your candle?" I reach for it on the ground, it's halfway through its life. A vanilla bean bath and bodyworks candle.

She takes it from my hand and gives it a sniff "I was wondering why it smelled so good in here, I just thought that was you." She places the candle back onto the saloon table "So, Neptune's daughter, where should we start?"

I snatch the notebook from the table and flip it open to a page clean of any writing. It takes a little less than fifteen minutes to seek out all of the trouble spots. Ellie followed behind me and nodded to everything that I was saying. 

The boat isn't in nearly as bad of condition as I expected. I suspected that the teenagers who occupied it while Ellie was away at college had all been girls, they took relatively good care of the boat aside from the graffiti, allegedly most of the damage had been there when Ellie got it from Tommy a year ago.

We now sat next to each other in the booth around the saloon table, the ocean rocked the boat beneath us ever so gently, the same way a mother would rock her child's cradle. I missed the sea when I was in college, on a bender I had driven three hours just to be back with it, it seemed the only safe place to let go and be reborn. I liked the sharpness of the air, the vastness of the horizon and the mystery beneath it. I thought I would rise from the seafoam a new woman the same way Aphrodite did but no, I threw up on the sandy shores and called my parents to make it go away.

I give the notebook over to Ellie, a new entry written in bright pink Sharpie amongst the poetry and anecdotes. 

Wanderlust's issues:

Mainsail and jib seem sketchy; Unfold the hoist for a full assessment

Wiring issues are out of my hands but a probable concern-should probably call in an expert

Nav instruments are cracked

Leaks on starboard window, probs cracked moulding

Interior woodwork is original, mainly solid despite a bit of mildew

Graffiti and chipped paint, graffiti likely cleanable (May need a new coat of paint)

Possible rigging issues

Underside? That's a question for the experts

Final Verdict: Wanderlust is a seaworthy vessel in need of some love

Ellie lets out a low whistle "God, I love a girl who knows the difference between a mainsail and a jib." She cracks a mischievous grin.

"You're teetering very close between sexy and crass," I tease her in return.

She seems a little taken aback by my comment, like she hadn't anticipated a response but ignores it nonetheless "What would it take to make you my first mate?"

"I'm sorry?"

"For someone with a bad memory, you seem to know your boats, Joel said that you used to work on charters. You gotta know more about sailing than me. It'll be a fun summer project, get you out of the house a bit."

I furrow my eyebrows as I look at her "You want me to work on the boat with you?"

Ellie nodded. She didn't rush to fill the silence that stretched between us, she didn't bother to sweeten the deal or hunt for some reason I would like working with her. She just let it stand. I looked her in the eyes, trying to figure her out. She goes from being almost non-verbal with me and now she asks me to spend the summer on a boat with her. I wondered if she knew what she was doing at all and if I would be carrying her through this.

I had a feeling that Ellie would become my next bad habit. It's easy to get addicted when everything interests you and nothing satisfies you. "I'm in."

"You won't regret this," Ellie almost jumps up, I swear I could've seen her making calculations in her head "So, I'm thinking we get rid of all this junk and get a good look at it bare bones, make a list of supplies and give her the spa day shes in desperate need of."

On my second day as first mate, I had been scrubbing away inside of the saloon while Ellie did some work on the exterior, my Scrub Daddy was being put to work. By the time I even made a dent in all of the Sharpie poetry, it was nearly falling apart and begging to be killed.

When I emerged from the companionway to replace my filthy bucket of water I spotted Ellie chatting up a girl on a dock. She had long glossy black hair that cascaded down her back in strategic ringlets. "So you're gonna sail on this thing?"

"Rebuilding her first," Ellie tells her, leaning against the railing. The girl she's speaking to looks like she's freezing, denim shorts cropped high and a white tank top.

"Do you need help?" She smiles and even I'm seduced by it. She has tanned skin that she's clearly been working on and sunglasses pushing back the silky hair from her forehead. "I've been on boats, lots of times," Her arms are crossed over her chest. I can see goosebumps all over her legs from the chill brought to us by the gray sky above and the frigid air. 

"That so?" Ellie asks, rising to her full height. A wrench in hand, it looks like the beginning of a really bad movie, not a family-friendly one. She saw me then, standing behind her. I watched her facade drop. Her smile changed as I approached, turning from flirt to friend in two seconds.

"Oh, hey," The black-haired girl regards me like I'm some kind of threat. "So do you need help or what?" 

Ellie looks at me and then back to her "Thanks for the offer but we're all set."

"Do you maybe wanna grab lunch or something?" She completely ignores me.

Ellie shakes her head "We've got lots of work to do, but-" She takes a deliberate pause and I almost cringe "I'll probably be at the shipwreck later. Stop by if you're around."

"See ya'," She grins and takes the sunglasses off the top of her head, placing them on the nose bridge before walking back down the dock.

"Wow," I dump my bucket of water over the rail of the boat "Looks like super difficult work out here, you are so brave." Sarcasm drips from my tone "Without you, who will flirt with all of the hot girls at the marina?"

"No need to be jealous," She says "I'm spending every waking minute with you after all."

I gave her the evil eye but I truly wasn't jealous. I didn't chase the thrill of a fling or late nights with girls whom I would forget by morning. I had dropped that by college and replaced it with ketamine and opioids, I abused liquor like I was its two-faced love. Now the only thing I chased was calmness. 

I wasn't jealous, just briefly reminiscing over how carefree I used to be. 

The tide was rolling and the sky above us was gray and angry as if something was raging within it. "Shit," I mutter, waves shifting from a distant hiss to a closer hush. The air hung heavy, I hadn't even noticed the change in weather from what seemed like the century I spent scrubbing away in the saloon. 

Ellie must've noticed what I was. "So, I'm thinking we should go?"

"You think?" I retort.

Moments later we're packed and rushing down the dock to find her truck. It doesn't take long for rain to begin to splatter on the ground beneath us, it isn't light and gentle, it's harsh. It sounds like pebbles being tossed onto a sheet of glass.

By the time we reach the truck, I'm soaked, hair sticking to my forehead and neck "You didn't want to poke your head into the saloon and say 'Hey, it's looking like there's gonna be a storm'?" 

"I was a little preoccupied," Ellie isn't much better off than I am, she takes off the flannel she had on top of her tank top and tosses it into the backseat, her tattoo out on full display. The rain is so heavy that everything on the outside of her truck looks like a blur. 

"Can you even drive in this?"

"No, can you?"

"No, I told you I have a DUI," The second the words leave my mouth I regret the slip-up. My eyes go wide and a hand slaps over my mouth, I'm acting like I just told her I was the one who took out JFK.

"You didn't tell me that."

"Well," I look forward, ignoring her piercing gaze, "I thought I did."

If not for the rain outside that pounded against the glass as if it wanted to be let in, we would've sat in complete silence while we drowned beneath all of the words going unsaid. My mind begins to wonder, first I think of the black-haired girl at the docks; I hope she didn't get stuck outside in the rain, especially with her lack of clothing. Then I think about what Ellie's thinking, did she know already? Had Joel told her? I'm humiliated all over again like I'd been when the paramedics dragged my half-naked body out of a bathtub.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" She asks. I don't say anything and she takes this as a hint "We don't have to talk about it."

I'm beginning to grow comfortable with the silence. I almost preferred it to the back-and-forth banter Joel and Ellie constantly had, which was more so father and daughter teasing each other.

Joel had probably known more about me than I did, my parents liked to keep him filled in after all. They just loved to keep tabs on me, if it was legal I'm sure they would put cameras behind my retinas and watch my every move. Eight months ago when I was in rehab, that was the most peace I've ever felt. As much as my parents wanted me clean, they held resentment since I ruined my life and was destroying theirs by association. Joel didn't seem like the type to gossip to his daughter but it nagged at me regardless. "Did Joel tell you anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just-like," I search through my brain to find the words "Like what I've been up to?"

She shrugged "He just said you are on a deferral and need a break from the city."

"Okay," I say, my voice so quiet it was almost smothered by the obnoxious rain. 

"Are you hungry?"

We had thrown on two jackets Ellie had in the back seat of the cars. She offered me Joel's black raincoat while she humbly took the bright yellow rain poncho. It took everything in me not to laugh at her, she looked like Georgie.

Ellie slung one arm around me, we were both hunched over as we ran as fast as we could. She was shouting stuff at me but I couldn't hear her through the rain, I just nodded in agreement and hoped she hadn't said something awful.

She tugged me left, the deluge chasing us into Salty's for cover. It was nearly dead in there, two other tables, one was an elderly couple and the other was a group of girls, laughing like hyenas while one of them showed the others a picture on her phone.

Ellie wasted no time in taking off her poncho and I didn't blame her, no one wanted to be seen in that. The second we settled into a booth by the huge glass window which took up the entire storefront, an over-eager waiter came up. He was tall, had dark hair and had handsome features, he must've been bored with how slow it was in here. "Hey, Jesse," Ellie said "Can I have water and a big-buck burger?"

He nodded and swerved his body to look at me, "Alright and for you-" He looked up from his notepad and paused for a moment before a huge smile cracked on his face "I haven't seen you in so long!" 

"Hi," I smiled, my mouth hanging openly awkwardly as I tried to recall him.

"Do you remember me?" He asked, his hand dropping to his side "Jesse," He reminded "We used to go to school together."

I had no idea who he was "Oh my god, yes!" I say "I remember."

His smile grows "God, you look so different."

"You too," I gesture at him "You're way more-" My mind falls flat "Grown."

He nods along to my words "Have you had a chance to look at the menu?"

Wanting this conversation as soon as possible I nod despite not even opening the menu “Yeah, I'll just get the, uh, big-buck and a club soda.” I repeated Ellie's order.

He jots it down onto his notepad "It'll be right up."

"Ellie, I don't know who that is," I say when I see him retreat to the server station to fill in the order. The entire restaurant is nautical-themed, the walls painted black, and there were nets with faux fish covering every square inch of the ceiling.

"Wow, I had no idea," She says, sarcastically "Damn, your memory really is fucked." 

Trust me, I know or at least I think I do. I disregard her comment "Water? Don't you wanna get rootbeer or something? Joel said you drink so much soda that your blood is made of corn syrup."

She grins "Gotta keep up the tough guy act."

Across the restaurant one of the girls waves to Ellie, this one has curly brown hair and a sundress "Hi, Ellie!"

Her eyebrows furrow "Hey there-um...you," Ellie said "Good to see you again."

The girl smiles slyly at Ellie before turning back to her friends. "Looks like I'm not the only one forgetting people, what's your excuse?"

"There's a lot of girls in the world, I can't remember all of their names."

"You must've gone through every girl in the cove, power to ya'," I say "No idea you had such a reputation."

"You don't know a lot about me."

I shrug "You know even less about me."

"I bet I could guess."

"Be my guest."

She leans back like she's carefully considering her next words, choosing them very wisely before she finally settles "You picked a major like communications and got bored quickly, decided you needed to do some soul searching. Probably read 'Eat, Prey, Love,' then went on a backpacking trip, expenses paid by your parents. Alternatively, you lived in a van and pretended to be a broke hippie."

I shook my head "Very cliche and you were only right about one thing."

"What?"

"I got bored quickly," The rain outside was failing to cease. Across from me, it looked like Ellie was calculating my every move. Her auburn hair was still wet, and from her hairline, a droplet of water dribbled down onto her button nose to rest on her cupid bow.

"Can I have a hint then?"

"No."

I see a realisation hit her "You partied with frat guys?"

I shook my head "I've always been too cool for them." I wasn't too cool for them, I was too fucked up to even know they were throwing a party until someone verbally informed me, by that point all I've ever done at a frat party was break in through a window and steal a keg like the disgusting fiend I was. It was nothing to be proud of, my friends thought it was hilarious and posted it on their Snapchat stories, egging me on and feeding into this sickening behaviour. What wasn't funny was how I got caught and winded up with a busted lip and broken rib. With pupils the size of my iris, I couldn't feel the pain I was in.

"Okay, now you have to tell me."

"I can't, I lose my mysterious allure."

The bell above the door chimes signalling the arrival of another customer and said customer makes a b-line for our table. She takes a seat next to Ellie "Jesse texted me that you were here.”

"Dina, were you at work?" Ellie furrows her eyebrows.

"Yeah, it's not like anyone's buying souvenirs right now and Jesse told me you finally came back," She whips her head to look over at me.

I genuinely remembered her, unlike Jesse. She had buried the time capsule with Ellie, her family and I. I also recalled how her older sister used to give us hand-me-down clothes. "Dina, hi."

She has freckles scattered across her face the same way that Ellie does. Her smile was so comforting, I forgot that I was soaked to my bones and shivering. "Well we should all do something together tonight," Dina grins "You're doing Ellie a huge favour by helping her fix that rig, she better give you some good head for it."

I almost choke on my saliva while Ellie just groans with disappointment like she had anticipated Dina saying something along those lines "D, you can't say that stuff around every girl I'm with, this is essentially my sister for the summer."

Dina raises her hands in defence "Sorry, my bad, I was unaware since you failed to mention that you have my old friend living with you." Ellie looks like she's going to say something but Dina speaks up again before she has the chance to "Let me give you my number."

Wordlessly, I hand my phone over to Dina who fills out her contact information and then gives my phone right back to me. I study Dina's face and her mannerisms, hoping that something might bring me back to my childhood which has been wiped away by every upper and downer you could put a name to. Something about her seemed familiar, maybe we had been closer friends than I thought.

I nod along to whatever she and Ellie are saying, chiming in random bits of dialogue but my mind is stuck on the two of them side by side. They're what I could've been if my family never moved us away and I hadn't turned my brain into sludge.

The life I could've had.

 Ellie smoked from what I knew, maybe Dina or Jesse were into something a little more hardcore. Hardcore? If hardcore qualifies as drowning in a concoction of cough syrup, Vicodin, codeine, and Gatorade to balance out the flavour of self-destruction. The bottles I swallowed to sleep, I showed up to almost every lecture high. Here I was handed what was nearly a good life and I tossed it away for something with a sweeter taste than a stable job and proper education.

The horrors I've committed. No good deed will ever outdo the bad that I have unleashed upon this godforsaken earth. From my clouded brain, paralyzing thoughts come to life to curse myself, the nightmare no mother would wish for her child to endure. 

Relapse after relapse, I would fall sick with the thought of how many times I had to relapse until I was finally clean and that bitter flavour washed from my mouth.

"Are you okay?" Dina asks with a smile and furrowed brows "We kind of lost you there."

It's one in the morning and I want to drink wine then slip beneath the rapid waters that will gladly pull me under and claim me as theirs.

Instead, I opt for a class of water. As Dina had said earlier, she wanted to get a bunch of friends together but the second we got home, I showered and locked myself away. Echoes of laughter and chatter drifted through my window.

I slip down the steps that lead to the kitchen. Outside the rain has finally dissipated and Ellie, Dina, Jesse, along with a handful of people I don't know crowd around a bonfire. The kitchen is illuminated only by moonlight, the moon hung over me as I poured myself water from the tap, a dead thing over a dying thing. 

I have seafoam in my veins and centuries-passed sunshine that induces my craving for some pills that will put me to sleep. Three months completely clean and yet that doesn't end the yearning for the drugs that comforted me more than any human ever had. 

The door cracks open and in comes Ellie, she's laughing and from the uncontrollable giggles, drowsy gaze, and slightly disoriented walking I can tell that she's been smoking. "Hey," She smiles at me, reaching passed me to grab a mug with Garfield on the front and fill it with water but she doesn't take a sip, she just sits it down on the counter behind us and stares at me.

Our faces only inches apart, I contemplate her next move. This close I can smell the marijuana on her and I almost want to scuttle upstairs and light a candle. Ellie hugs me, wrapping her arms around my midriff and letting her head find its resting place in the crook of my neck "Are you okay?"

"Mhm" She hums "I'm just glad you're here, whatever the circumstances are, I'm happy that you're helping me with the boat," I'm carrying almost her full way, and she's slouched against me "I love you man, I know you don't remember a lot from when we were kids but we had a lot of fun together."

"Thanks, Ellie," I give her a little pat on the back "That's really nice of you."

She peels herself away from me, using the counter to lean against instead. She looks me up and down, having an intense staring contest with my pyjamas "Do you wanna come out and smoke with everyone?" She's shed her tank top and thrown over a gray hoodie to shroud her from the oncoming cold.

I shake my head, no "I don't mess with that stuff."

"That's smart," She says "Have fun in your room, stowaway, I'll see you tomorrow to work on our boat," With that Ellie leaves without grabbing the Garfield mug she came in here for.

A/N: Hey, y’all. I’m aware I have a million open docs, I assure you they are all getting some love but I needed to come back to my roots and write some angst. These are some issues I have struggled with and I feel that it’s important to bring attention to it so it’s not taboo.

[cephei-ea]

The Constant (Geto)

CHAPTER TWO

Warnings: angst, descriptions of vomit, derogatory behavior, foreplay, fingering, possessiveness

Genre: angst, smut (<400 words)

Word Count: ~4.0k

╭─────────────────.★..─╮

As the days passed, the summer heat melted into fall and the air began to nip at your skin instead of warm it. It was the strangest, almost absurd feeling of not having Suguru at your side.

If you’d spoken to yourself from just four months ago, you would never believe what had happened. Suguru, in all of his righteous, vengeance seeking glory, nearly went looking for Gojo, his best friend in the world. It was many weeks, maybe a month or two of enduring the feel of misplacemnt in your shared home before you decided that the consequences of staying by Suguru’s side, as well as the affects on your mental and physical health were dire enough to finally leave.

No doubt, it demanded a level of self control and will you weren’t sure you had.

You love Suguru Geto.

You love Suguru.

How could you leave him? How was it possible for you to go out of your way,

to put in all of your effort to blatantly leave behind and give up the very last piece of your heart that resided with Suguru?

The man you had revolved your world around, your love, in all honesty, was too far gone. Though his view hadn’t changed much, the one constant in his morality was his love for you and the devotion he held for Gojo as his best friend despite their separation. It took months, and Suguru proposing new ideas that shook you to your core in order to convince yourself that you were better off without him.

And that he was better off without you. Whatever sense of normalcy you could help Suguru hold onto following his defection, you would accept.

You love Geto Suguru.

He made you one.

He made you whole

Together, you belonged.

___

So you spoke. “He was-..” a melancholy in your voice that wouldn’t likely vanish without considerable time, or the right puzzle piece in your existence. “He was going too far. He said how he was going to come find you because you disrespected him so badly by seeing me.” A guttural but quiet moan spilled from you. “I couldn’t let him.” Your brows furrowed, a thick ball of saliva in your throat that wouldn’t pass down. “I love him, Satoru.” The can of beer in your hand sloshed, your hand loosening around the metal. Gojo mirrored you, his own can in his hand, but almost filled to the top. It was rare that he got drunk off of the alcohol from convenience stores. He would have them specially crafted for himself if he wanted to beat his tolerance. Still, he sat with you as you drank your sorrows away, the empty that Geto had left in your chest was irreplaceable, a thick and profound melancholy blanketing over your soul as you blabbed about all the things you didn’t say when you were sober.

Satoru was over for a visit, knowing how much you’d been struggling with the breakup; he said he had alcohol and a shoulder to cry on. It was an offer that was hard to pass up.

The sorcerer was surprised to find that it was the same apartment you lived in prior to moving in with Suguru after your defect. You explained how despite being on the market, the fact that the two strongest curse users once lived in this apartment was enough to drive tenants away. Even the neighbors had moved out.

“I don’t want to side with him but it makes no sense why you would have followed him. He left of his accord.” You quickly shook your head, placing your face between your palms, unable to keep still. Suguru and Satoru had a friendship that should not and could not have been cracked by anything, not even his defect. Not even the years they spent apart. To think that you’d gotten in the way of something so beautiful and strong, to think that it was your fault that they would fight. All because you were selfish enough to meet with Satoru during Suguru’s absence— it heart breaking. A form of betrayal not quite prominent, yet still deep enough to cut your love. Satoru had to stop himself from reaching out to you and gripping your hand in his own, as though to take the pain from you and bear it for himself. He was the strongest, he could take it.

“That bastard.” your voice cracked, involuntary gasps from your heavy lungs erupting suddenly, your hiccups interrupted your speech. “He keeps texting and texting and calling over and over again I can’t bear it anymore, I can’t keep doing this. It’s tearing me apart to ignore those texts. He’s genuine, I know he’s genuine.” The beer in your hand clanked to the ground, empty. Your head pounded, your stomach churning with bile that would surely amalgamate into a ball of sickness in your throat in due time. “I don’t even know why I did this. Toru, I’m not even sure if I did the right thing. Did I make things worse by leaving? Or was I enabling all this chaos by staying? I mean-”

Gojo clicked his tongue and he turned to you. “Don’t start with that shit. I hate the blame game.” He complained, unlike his usual upbeat self. “If your going to wallow in self pity, don’t do it in front of me.” His words were harsh, but the sadness in his eyes almost betrayed him. “I can’t help you.” A surge of frustration ripped through your limbs.

“Well I’m sorry I couldn’t be miss perfect jujutsu sorcerer, okay?? If you loved someone like I love him, you would understand.” Your voice was a deep cacophony of mental maladies unable to be interpreted. Gojo almost looked upset, a look he rarely sported, or maybe he easily masked with jokes and giggles. “I dont know what to think. Or do. Or..” the ends of your words began to meet the beginnings of the next ones, slurs and inaudible mumbles riddling your speech before Satoru was standing up and sitting beside you. “It feels like I knew every- was so sure of everything with him. What do I do with my extra time? There’s no one to cook a meal for, no missions or jobs to take, there’s no Nanako and Mimiko to teach math. Is this,” Gojo found that for the first time in ages, he was holding back the lump in his throat when he placed his large palm over your head and pressed your face into his chest. “meaningless?” Your voice was nothing but a short squeal that echoed in your empty living room. Gojo heard as you sniffled, and instead, let liquid drip down the bow above his lips from his nose, and he let his tears soak instead of wiping them, in fear you would notice.

It was maybe another 20 or 30 minutes before Gojo was releasing your sorrow soaked face and instead, placing a hand slowly and tentatively over yours, on your thigh. The movement was almost inperecptible, but a light touch encompassing your ice cold hand shocked you to gaze up at him. His eyes were just barely streaked with tears. A small but bright streak of light dotting his eyelashes a give away. Satoru looked at you in a way you knew you’d seen before, the same way he looked at Suguru before his defect. Gojo felt as his heat transferred into your hand and yours cooled his skin, and then his hands were interlacing with yours, every indent of his long fingers tying together with yours as he held you tightly. The hold was almost comforting, an insufficient but meek substitute for the hold you yearned for.

“I don’t understand you. All of this. All of this could have been avoided.” He spoke. Your ears were trained on the rain pattering at the windows, hardly picking up the inquiry that came from just beside you. “He couldn’t hurt me. I’d win. You didn’t need to do that.” The volume of his insistence increased, a cold bucket of water over your already trembling frame. Gojo was desperate when he looked at you and squeezed your hand in his, white hair loose and shadowing the usual glow of his blue eyes. Still, the darkness of your living room was not match for the brightness of the six eyes. Not when he could sense and nearly take on all your pain, his senses acute and on point with every movement you made.

Suguru Geto was different. His eyes did not shine like Gojos. Rather, they entranced and penetrated with an abyss of darkness that offered no rival. His hair was not white and short like Gojos, it cascaded down his back in a beautiful waterfall of shadows and deep, black water; soft and velvety to the touch. Suguru’s touch was not like Gojos cool ones; his skin was hot, feverishly warm enough to counter the ice of yours. Geto Suguru was nothing like Gojo Satoru. Gojo was upbeat, naturally understanding with his six eyes, and talkative. However, Suguru was quiet and pensive. He held true and raw understanding in a profound manner of skill he obtained from being considerate, kind and tempered.

In an instant, the lukewarm touch of Gojos hand was off of yours when you pulled away and stood, looking away so as to not progress a moment with him you had no interest in sharing. So instead, you explained.

“You don’t understand. It’s not about who would win.”

___

You sat by that same dam, hearing the loud crashing of water through its holes and the swaying of trees behind you. It was becoming warmer outside when you finally left Suguru that day. Now, the trees were green again and the water was still chilly but slowly warming from its prior frigid temperature.

April 27

It was your passcode and the first date in your series of journal entries in a while. You didn’t have too much to write about. When you did, you would talk to Sugu. He wasn’t here now, not since April 27th.

Two days after you left, probably when Suguru realized you weren’t just mad at him, and that this wouldn’t be so easily fixed, that was when you received the missed calls, the spamming texts, the location requests.

April 29

Suguru realized that your relationship

was not salvageable.

You weren’t being petty or throwing a tantrum, you’d left him. So when he called your phone and you didn’t pick up, he called another 15 times.

16 missed calls, 49 unread messages. Of course, they all consisted of similar complaints. Asking where you were, if you were being serious, if you were safe, to please answer, what happened? He’d even come to your new apartment a few times, though you were uncertain of how he found out the address. A month later, 47 missed calls and 78 unread messages. Suguru now sent you updates on his days, any big events; but most of all, when he missed you. When, similar to you, the ache in his chest grew unbearable and he took the risk of texting you knowing you would not respond.

And every Sunday, just like while you were together, he would send you a bouquet of flowers, your favorite kind. The ones with the petals soft enough to resemble clouds, color soft enough to relax you and scent warm enough to remind you of Suguru.

<<<

“Angel,” Geto begins, arms held loosely behind his back as he approaches you, nearing you by the stove as you prepare dinner. A quiet smile splits your face, eyes shining, it feels like days since Geto left for work. Although it’s only been a few hours, you turn on your heel and embrace him immediately, feeling cellophane and tissue paper beneath your touch. You back up immediately, eyes wide and staring up into his narrow ones; Suguru smiles. “You’re not supposed to ruin the surprise.” His even smile beams down on you from above, his arms swinging out in front of him and displaying the large bouquet of flowers he’s picked up. For a while, you can’t speak, only watching as he pushes your hair back and steps forward, pushing your back against he counter. You glance back, ensuring the stove was not behind you; Suguru beats you to you, his arm caging you from the right, blocking your access to the hot metal where your meal cooks.

“Baby..” a ball in your throat threatens to make you sob aloud so you press your nose into his chest and circle his lats with your smaller arms. His immediately comes to encircle you, pulling your body taut against him and pressing a loving kiss to your head. “I don’t remember telling you my favorite flowers.” You beam up at him, turning against his chest to the flowers and using both hands to haul the bouquet.

“Well, I do. The old couple selling them even gave me something for you.” He explains, rounding the corner of the kitchen and grabbing another flower from next to his belongings. He hands it to you, a single rose. The flower is gorgeous, made of rose tinted glass and a shiny green stem, the petals bounce rays of light and color off of them. Your jaw drops at the sight, staring between him and the crystallized flower. “Did he sculpt this??” Wonder and awe grace your features and Suguru places a large hand beneath your jaw, tilting your head up and placing a deep, enamored kiss against your lips as his body encases yours.

>>>

The scale must’ve been off. Everything seemed to be breaking these days. You step off the glass plate after holding your breath, a bit of air to make yourself heavier, maybe? Or maybe it was in anticipation of the weight displayed, knowing it would be lower than it should. 42 kilos. Far too below your average weight. Frighteningly so— you didn’t show Shoko, or Gojo, or Nanami, quickly hiding the plate in your closet when they would visit to check on you. You refused a therapist; they wouldn’t understand, not now. You swallowed upon glancing in the mirror, your eyes stung and your bottom lids were tinted red: exhaustion. A proper nights rest wasn’t something you came across lately, not since Suguru held you in his arms as you slept, not since before April 27th. You huffed a laugh of embarrassment, almost looking away before a familiar shadow tickled your back. And as you looked back to the mirror, there stood Suguru, his chest hovering just behind your back and his hands on your arms.

Bile.

His long, layered hair dripped down his shoulders, his bare torso exuding heat you would never forget the warmth of. He was leaned slightly over your shoulder, his face tilted toward your ear as the smell of his musk and cologne violated every pore of your body. The sweet embrace of his muscle corded arms and the capture of his scent made you the world tilt and you almost melted into the scent, the familiar comfort. But then a sharp sting of memories invaded your every pore. Sweet, sour, beautiful and everything you would never have again.

Stomach.

A pounding in your chest formed, you gripped your shirt, watching in a mind boggling mix of horror and elation as Suguru’s bare arms reached for the straps of your tank top. The smooth skin on hard chest rippled with every gentle, smooth and effortless movement he made to run the straps down your arms, allowing the airy garment to fall to the floor.

His gorgeous features did not twitch with judgement or anything except love and adoration when, through the reflection in the mirror, he displayed your bare chest to the both of you. You were so thin. Thinner than you should be. He should look away from the mirror before you, he should step away and dress himself and walk away forever when he sees the thin limbs you sport. But Geto didn’t even look away from the reflection of your eyes. Even the feeling of obligation to look down at your ugly body hurt your eyes and ushered tears to your eyelashes, he remained steady in his gaze on yours. Surely, he noticed your tears when they gathered. Surely, he felt your awfully cold skin tremble beneath his feather like touch, but his warm smile did not falter.

Churning.

You did not dare look away from mirror when the dangerous man behind you inched to the hem of your panties and slowly dragged them down the shapes of your thighs. You did not dare move when you felt his delicious, warm and familiar hands drag up to just below your breasts. This moment felt strangely familiar. Seven, three, two and then one inch from your nipples and you felt like you’d been here before. The tears, the sting in your eyelids and the sudden palpitations of your heart at the erotic scene in the mirror before you forced a few blinks out of you. Back to back, your eyes opened and closed to rid of the salty liquid threatening your cold skin. One, two, three, seven blinks and the tears were gone, taking Suguru with them as he disappeared from behind you when you opened your eyes.

You whipped your head around, finding the space behind you entirely empty and untouched, your clothes were removed but held within your own grip. The bile churning in your stomach came suddenly and unforgivingly as it demanded release from your confining belly, your body rejecting it just as much. In your toilet, tears, vomit and snot all expelled from you, leaving their host in a heaping mess of whimpers and sobs as your body rejected the memory of Suguru Geto.

___

It felt as though you’d swallowed a ball of emotion, your throat constricted by the feeling of sorrow overcoming you. The first night that you received a bouquet from Suguru prior to your separation, you were alone in your apartment. And somehow every time you received another set of flowers, Suguru managed to read your mind and send you a color or a fragrance that was particularly on your mind that week. That’s another reason why you loved Sugu, he knew you almost too well. With his blue flowers came a calm, melancholy mood for your week that whispered into your ear that you would never recover from him, late at night as you lay curled up beneath your feather filled quilts and blankets.

With the orange bouquets came anger, crashing out and breaking things around the apartment in a fit of disbelief and utter hysteria. With red came intense longing, an ache in your abdomen and the red hot desire to feel his enormous hands press you into the mattress. With green came a feeling that maybe one day, these feelings would pass. A hope in the back of your head that allowed you a moment or two, or even a day or two, of salvation from your eternal heartbreak.

Maybe one day, however far in the future, the bouquets would mean nothing to you, your anger toward him, yourself and your situation would dissipate, and the feeling of an empty existence would fade. One day, you would move on.

Yet still, time passed and the hefty feeling of displacement was prominent in your chest and still leaked into your fingertips, where your skin went cold with the changing weather. It was weird to lay in an empty bed. The blankets never made up for the scorching heat that accompanied Suguru Geto, they never came close. The nights spent accompanied by your friends didn’t make up for the lack of his presence, the night could always be more fun if Sugu was beside you. The meals you made whenever your hunger got out of control did not replace those you made with Sugu, the flavor he brought was much more potent. An ingredient you no longer possessed, one only he could add, and one you would not find ever again. The alcohol did not serve as a distraction, nothing made up for the way Suguru could quell the raging emotions inside you.

Nothing was working.

<<<

Suguru’s arm stretched from above you, reeling you from your deep slumber and tenderly wrapping around your slender frame. The touch was immediately welcomed as his skin molded with yours and your differences in heat melded to create a perfect combination of warmth that settled deep in your tummy. You smiled eagerly as a deep groaned escaped his yawn, curling into his burly side and resting your head against his hard chest early in the morning.

“Angel,” he began, illiciting a churning of your gut, a warmth in your cheeks and a liquid between your bare legs that really only he could instigate. You purred against his skin, feeling his muscled arm press against your waist and into his chest. He wasted no time in lowering his head to your cheek and pressing a few tender kisses into your skin before pulling you even closer, his other arm assisting its brother in pulling your legs over his waist and urging you to straddle him. You never had to put in the work, Suguru effortlessly lifted you with the mere tips of his fingers to lay you above him, an easier position in which to hold your naked frame against his. He was quick to lift the covers and settle them over your body, running his palms over the course of your skin and memorizing every indent of your body as though he were studying for an important exam. Always the intellect.

“You were made for me, Angel.” He whispered into the crevice of your shoulder, your head resting gingerly against his chest and completely blanketing him with your body. “This, and only this, is real. Only for me.” His hands find your ass and his gripping the flesh there, dragging his fingers tightly up your sides to brush across your breasts. “This body was made for me.” And then his voice is a guttural groan, his finger dashing down to your legs across his waist to tickle the flesh soaked between them. As your lips part and his skin delves into the wetness between those legs he’s claimed as his, they plunge to meet your insides and open them up for him. He always knew how. How to will your leg apart with just his words, how to pry your walls open with just his fingers and how to use his other hand to press your arched back hard into his chest, forcing your legs further apart to where it stung in your cunt.

His fingers are so, so, so fucking long, and his skin is so, so, so hot as it splits you open for the nth time, preparing you for yet another session of body crippling love.

“I love you, Angel.” He whispered against your skin and you felt him hard against your abdomen. “I love you-“ and then his so, so, so long fingers were plunging endlessly into your cunt, ripping moans and screams from your lips. He swallowed each one with passion, his lips never leaving yours unless it was his own name on them. The only sound he allowed was that of his name on your lips, so long as it was loud and accompanied a tight squeeze around the two, three, four fingers he lodged up into your cunt. Those fingers that easily curled into your bowed body.

“Suguru-“

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

>>>

And then an orgasm ripped through you, a sorry excuse for a substitution for the ones he scorched your body and branded your uterus with. The fingers he would expertly press into your body as though he were a starved man, as though he could die without your contact, were now replaced meekly by your shorter, thinner ones. The soft lips he kissed you with, that he bit hickeys into your neck with, were now gone. The hips that rocked into yours and the thick, muscle corded thighs that smacked heavily against yours were now but a memory. The body that once offered you night after consecutive night of unmatched pleasure and deep, rough, aggressive love, was now a distant flicker of your past as your fingers slipped away from your panties and moved to remove your covers.

No amount of alcohol, partying, or men were ever— would ever be enough to replace Suguru. Or even pretend to substitute him.

╰─..★.─────────────────╯

[sofasoap]

Miss Starlight

Pairing : Kyle “ Gaz” Garrick x F!reader Summary:  First date...? Part 3 to Miss Sunshine

Warning: M theme.

Gaz route for my Mini MacTavish verse, I just love the photo of Elliot Knight big cute smile!

As always, Thanks to mother of my Mini MacTavish @saltofmercury for lending me the character “ Mini” from her story. Go read her  “The Favorite MacTavish”  !

“Masterlist” for other stories to this Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

“You want to meet up and give it to me in person?”

Is this a date?Do you want it to be a date?

Gaz has been buying all little trinkets from places he travelled to during missions, little shot glasses, locally crafted bracelets,  postcards, anything that reminds him of you. He had a whole bag of goodies accumulated, ready to give to you. 

How is he going to give to you?

Ask you for your address?Or ask Soap to pass on to you?

He debated with himself for a while. Deciding at the end not to risk his life to ask Soap to pass on the gifts to you.  He can imagine the outcome. So he summoned his courage yet once again, asking for your address. To his surprise, you suggested both of you meet up next time he is in London. 

“I want to see you anyway, when was the last time we saw each other, a year ago? It’s ok I will be more sober this time”. you joked. Gaz shifts around nervously. He couldn’t sleep the night before with excitement like a 16 year old boy, going on his first date.He ended up getting to the meet up spot you both agreed on an hour early. Amongst a bunch of passengers pouring from the Tube station, he spotted you, wrapped up nice and warm in a long coat and pastel colour scarf and a beanie. Drastic contrast to the LOW CUT sunflower dress you wore in summer. Get your mind out of the gutter Kyle! Giving you a quick wave,  he saw your eyes brighten up and your signature smile appeared as you ran up towards him and gave him a big hug. “HELLLOO Kyle!!! Long time no see!!” Boy, was it getting warmer?  You pulled back a little, still holding onto his arms, “ Thank you so much for meeting up with me today.” “No worries. I thought about asking Soap to pass the things to you..” You rolled your eyes,” Good thing you didn’t. He probably start interrogating you non-stop. How many times he has hassled me about people who I am texting to or if I am dating something.“ You know your brother too well.

“Come on, let’s go get something hot to drink, I found a coffee shop that serves really good tea….. WAOH!” You nearly slipped over on the icy footpath, but Gaz was quicker to grab onto your waist, pulling you closer to him, preventing you bum planting onto the ground. “That was a close one, here, grab onto my arm.” he offered his arm after making sure you are standing straight. “I knew I needed new boots… the pattern is pretty worn out.” You sighed as you lifted one of your feet up, checking the sole of your boot. You tilt your head left and right, he can practically see clogs turning above your head, and  look up to him with a cheeky smile, “ Come boot shopping with me?” He doesn’t have the heart to say no to you.

“What a lovely boyfriend you got there, so attentive!” Gaz was flustered as the shop assistant made the comment as you pay for your new boots. Out of corner of his eyes, he saw you paused for few second as you fish your wallet out, before leaning into him.

“He’s the best isn’t he? I got really lucky.” Before looking up to him and giving him a wink. He can feel tip of his ears burning. How he wishes you really belong to him. “ Come on, let’s head to the shop down the road. There’s that new video game that came out yesterday that you've been waiting to get right?”  “Oh what a nice girlfriend… getting a video game for her boyfriend.” Gaz heard the assistants comment as you tugged him out of the store. 

Gaz insisted on escorting you home. 

“I want to make sure you make it home safe.” He just wants to spend a bit more time with you. Enjoy the feel of your arms wrapped around his, keeping you safe and warm.

“ Well, this is me, thank you for the lovely day Kyle, I had a great time.” You turned towards him as you stood at the bottom of the stairs of your flat. As he handed you the shopping bags and the gifts, Gaz opened his mouth, and closed it. He wanted to ask you about this afternoon. You tilted your head, eyebrows raised, smiling softly, to encourage him to speak his mind. 

The beautiful orbs of yours. Glittering like starlights. 

Gaz had to resist hard not to bend down and kiss you on the lip. 

“... Why didn’t you deny it when they said I was your boyfriend?”

“Why do you think I asked you to meet up today?” you throw the question back to him.

His breath hitched. Awkward silence. Your smile turned into a frown as it drags on. “I am sorry Gaz.I must have mistaken…” You never called him Gaz before. Bad sign. 

You shove the bag of presents he gave you back towards him. Before he can apologise to you, you already unlocked the door to your flat and slammed it shut.  He can just hear the faint sound of your sobs through the thick wooden door. 

Shit. he totally fucked up. 

Gaz you coward. I needed a Gaz of my own to hold my hand back in the days when I lived in a snowy city, the amount of times I nearly landed on my ass because of icy footpath… yaks. taglist @deadbranch

@voxyin

@lia0-0

[nickgerlich]

Beer’s To Ya

Truth really is stranger than fiction. The funny thing is, I am reminded of this truth at least once every week. It’s just that there’s always somebody different hammering home this little gem. Kind of like the guy who just introduced Conservative Dad’s Ultra Right Beer.

Say it with me. “Oh noooooo.”

To be fair up front, I would say the same thing if someone on the hard left did it too. I am an equal opportunity critic. It’s just that this fellow is gliding in on the aftermath of the Bud Light beer can incident that featured trans-woman star Dylan Mulvaney. The new beer can says in small print, “100% Woke-Free American Beer.”

Well, somebody hand me a flag so I can wave it.

Right now, he is mailing the beer to customers starting in early May, which clocks in at $19.99 a six-pack plus more than $14 for shipping. That’s about as much as five or six craft beers at a brewery. Shipping is limited to just 42 states because of some arcane laws still on the books. But with that price, I’m betting not a whole lot of Joe Six Packs will be slamming these down at home, especially once the novelty wears off.

The 49-year beer can collector in me also says I want one of these. I’ll make sure I get one, somehow. But I am reminded of other novelty beers from the 1970s, like Billy Beer (named for President Carter’s beer-swilling brother), as well as JR Beer (based on the hit TV show Dallas), and 4077th M*A*S*H Beer (another TV show knock-off). None of these cans are worth more than a quarter on a good day, because millions were saved by collectors.

Furthermore, this guy is going to have a hard time getting distribution. I doubt many retailers would want to carry a politically divisive product like this. Sure, Bud Light has kind of become that, but that was never the intent. And, worse yet, as someone I know at an Amarillo liquor store told me yesterday, the people coming in the store asking for a Bud Light alternative have absolutely no clue all the brands that AB InBev owns or distributes. Say goodbye to your Amstel, Modelo, Karbach, Hoegaarden, Rolling Rock, Goose Island, Kona, and many others.

Good luck with this folks. Oh, and don’t forget that the folks who make Coors Light have also long been a supporter of gay rights. Don’t swap one brewery for another without knowing your beers.

But now comes the really insane part. It’s not just my students who do the learning and changing during a semester. Sometimes it’s the professor as well, and you can count me among those who are now beginning to see that some companies may be willingly playing the controversy card, knowing that any damage inflicted on social media will be short-lived. 



And here’s the other part, which is actually a sobering reality for me: It is the acknowledgement that some companies simply no longer care all that much about old people like me. It’s good for business. They happily rattle people’s cages, because they are pandering to younger consumers, people with a lot more open minds on a lot of these hot-button ideas. We old timers have the majority of our consuming years behind us. I sure as hell don’t drink as much beer as I once did. I’m too old for that. I don’t eat M&Ms, and my preferred shoes for hiking and walking are Merrells.

Now as in all controversial things we have discussed this term, I respect what each of you believe to be right. You don’t have to agree with me, nor I with you. But from a purely marketing perspective, this new beer is a lot like the bottle rockets people will be sending off on the 4th of July. The show will be over in seconds.

Maybe I better try to grab one of those while I am still able to. This one may go away faster than all those 70s brewing mistakes.

Dr “Foam On The Range“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[the-tin-dog]

One of my partners is starting their sobriety journey and literally the above comment is 1000% right.

I work in the liquor industry. I drink a L O T. I do sensory on rums at the distillery I work at. I am the creative lead behind the bar I built for my establishment. My roommate is a gin distiller, and I help her with stuff at home. I brew my own shit. It’s a hobby for me. *HOWEVER* despite my like, constant exposure and probably higher than I should level of drinking it’s not a *need*. I take sober months, I do non-drinking social things, I have other non-alcohol hobbies.

My partner, however? They literally say “I’m too anxious. I can’t socialize without drinking to take the edge off”. They don’t know when to cut themselves off/are incapable of doing so. We’ve had *actual fights* over me saying “hey hon we’ve both had a lot at this party let’s switch to water” or “maybe we should pace ourselves a bit”. They *cannot* control their consumption when they start, and they have an *OVERWHELMING* urge to consume alcohol *ALL THE TIME* and literally cannot stop themselves. (Because addiction is a MASSIVE beast)

So like, I’m bringing all this up to say that if you have a friend who seems like they simply cannot stop drinking, or cannot do anything without an alcoholic beverage, maybe have that tough chat with them? Recognize the difference between “someone who drinks a lot and enjoys some non-effects aspect of alcohol” [craft beer, bourbon fans, someone like my other friend who just loves tiki bars a lot…] vs “someone who *cant* go without drinking, and exclusively drinks for the affects of alcohol.”

And if you do have a friend that’s sober! Some tips:

- be sober with them! If you struggle not drinking around them, or can’t seem to stop yourself from having a drink while they’re there, you might *also* have an alcohol addiction. (I had a friend who realized this due to my partner’s sobriety)

- if it’s a friend or partner who you usually go out and drink with, or drinking socially was a big aspect of your interactions, try to get non-alcoholic beer, or learn a few mock-tail recipes! (I have another 7yrs sober friend who likes bar environments, but only gets mocktails and n/a beer. I make a point to *also* stay sober when we hang out)

- keep the liquor hidden or stored away, especially in the first few months. It’s much easier to remove temptation and thoughts entirely.

- try to find other things to do that aren’t going to bars/breweries. Hang out with them in non-alcohol centric spaces. (I know that’s hard in the US, and that’s a whole other can of worms, but try your best). You may even be surprised with what you can discover about your own city/town/area.

some sobriety ideas

[what-the-hayl]

Another Update

Hi Guys,

Ive been slacking so much lately, really focusing on my mental and being mom though. Which counts for something!

395 days no alcohol, ive been around it a few times and didnt feel the need to drink anything which was cool, i had my redbull. I was out on NYE downtown like i always used to do, but this year i went out after a year of isolation basically.. went to this techno thing with my friends that ive probs been in the most trouble with. A couple of us are on this sober ride which is cool, my one friend has been sober for awile now after he got into some trouble again but he said he will have a couple beers here and there. To each their own path, <3 I found a N/A beer i was never a dark beer, sour beer drinker. But, this N/A drink was a mango drangonfruit sour it was good. I had too many so safe to say i would of picked up right where i left off had i allowed myself to drink again... damn.

Sober life is treating me well though, im staying focused and have found and still contiune to find new or pick up old hobbies now a days. Working on disciplinary actions for myself with simple things as getting my reading, writing, walks and meds down everyday. Im still slacking every once in a couple weeks. I am doing alot better now a days though then i was when i began this journey.

I have recently dug up my art box, ive always been artistic i would like to think, im good at drawing if i got back into it. I love writing ive always thought about writing songs and having someone sing them, haha. But, now i plan to get my Etsy store open in the next two weeks, im going to start making crafts.. it'll be a mess at the beginning but i know i can succeed at a store like this!

Follow more and help support me(:

Im proud of you for all the hard work you are putting into a better life for yourself, never give up on you.

[love-toxin]

ok i know that Eddie's whole graduation speech + his picture being in the yearbook is definitely a hot topic, but it didn't occur to me until now.......prom.

like imagine Eddie surviving and healing in time for prom, something he never even thought about attending because why would he want to go to a dance filled with people who would rather avoid him? plus, they're not really his thing anyways (a suit is WAY too stuffy for him besides being too expensive) and he'd rather hang out with Hellfire or practice with Corroded Coffin.

but he has you, and you want to go, and there's no way he's gonna disappoint you by insisting he's not gonna join you. that would be kind of a dick move and he knows now that life can be cut very, very short, so he's not gonna skip out on some potentially good memories with his angel.

so he gets the tickets, crafts some little matching corsages for you two out of some wildflowers growing around the trailer, and uncle Wayne surprises him with his own suit to borrow for the event and shows him how to wear it. it's a little ill-fitting in places but it's much better than nothing, and Wayne even gifts him some really nice cologne he had stored away so he can "impress that pretty date of yours", and then helps him get ready when the night comes. pulls his hair back for him into a ponytail, and fixes his tie for him before turning him to the mirror, and patting his shoulder with pride in his eyes at his nephew growing up right in front of him.

and when you show up at the trailer to meet him, all dressed up and eager with a huge smile on your face, Eddie's breath is just taken away the first moment he locks eyes with you. it's like he's seeing you for the first time all over again, and for once he struggles to find the words, or any words, to express how he's feeling in that moment. he can't. you just render them all inadequate, because the love he feels when he looks at you is beyond words--and he finds himself squeezing you so tightly to his chest, arms so strong around you like he doesn't ever want to let you go. it's such a sobering experience after that close scrape with death, and any hesitancy he had about going out and enjoying prom with you is erased completely.

Eddie's glad it did when you get there, too. there's very few people either of you associate with there, and even fewer who want to associate with you. there are whispers about the freak crashing the party, and snickering about Eddie's secondhand suit and the lopsided, cheap corsages you're both wearing, but they all fall deaf to Eddie's ears when he's next to you, because you're all he has his attention on.

when it comes time to lead him to the dance floor, you're so gentle and cautious with him--he's still recovering, after all, and you don't want to stress him out too much more than you already have. but he lets your hands lie where they may and holds your waist in either of his, his steps an echo of the ones that Dustin and Steve spent a whole week teaching him. it isn't what he pictured, swaying to some soft music surrounded by a crowd of conformists, and sharing kisses with someone he would never even dream he'd be with. but when your foreheads finally touch as you lean into each other, and you let that sweet voice of yours pierce through the music to tell him "I love you" in his ear, Eddie finally finds those words he was searching for.

"I love you more, my angel."

[solarpunkism]

While the easy answer to cleaning up the earth may be “Just recycle!” unfortunately, it is not that simple. Many areas do not have recycling plants available or nearby. In my own neighborhood, to be part of the recycling route, you have to pay a monthly subscription, which not everyone can afford. 

Because of this, I have found myself becoming increasingly creative in the ways that I reduce waste. Below are some of my most practical tips.

1.) Containers!

Containers are very easy to reuse--whether its a glass jam jar upcycled into a trendy coffee cup, or an old mayo jar being reused as a craft supply holder, containers are my favorite reusable item. I have washed out plastic ice cream tubs and used them as flour/sugar containers and as planters. Tin cans become cute pencil holders and planters with a coat of exterior paint or a ribbon. I have used vitamin/pill bottles as bathroom organizers for Q-Tips, tweezers, and make up brushes. Cutting a milk jug in half and covering the exterior with a colorful cloth makes a handy sock/underwear organizer. The possibilities are endless!

2.) Paper Goods!

Instead of throwing away paper, look for ways to reuse and donate! Many cat shelters use newspapers for their litter box liners and are glad to take the newspapers off your hands. There are DIY tutorials online about how to make a pet mat with newspapers and fabric, also a great item to donate to shelters! Make sure to call and check with the shelter to see if they need these items before beginning any project, though. Paper can also be reused to make fire starters, beads, decoupage material, and paper mâché. You can shred it and use it as small pet bedding, as well.

3.) Plastic Bags!

It is incredibly sobering to see so many photos of plastic bags in landfills, in oceans, and around the necks of our wildlife. Easy to make and easy to throw away, plastic bags are easily a castaway product that is easier to use and not think about. After seeing my own plastic bag usage, I realized I needed to make a change. I cut plastic bags into loops, connect, and roll them into balls of “Plarn” (plastic yarn). I have been crocheting the plarn into containers and reusable grocery totes. While the prep work is a bit time consuming, making plarn is still a lot of fun, and its the perfect fidget task for me while I watch movies.

4.) Clothes!

Clothes are one of the slower biodegradable items, with the plastics of common day production making breaking down difficult. Instead of tossing out a shirt with a rip in it, or a pair of shorts with a stain, look for ways to repair it first. Sewing a flower over a stain, or using a cute stitch to seam up a tear is a great way to add character and longer life to your clothes. If clothes no longer fit or are too damaged to repair, many thrift stores (or craft clubs!) will accept them. I like to donate clothes to smaller, personally owned thrift shops before large chain shops, but any type of donating keeps clothes out of landfills! If there are no thrift shops that accept donations, churches, benefit clubs, and homeless shelters often accept items into their closets so they can give them to people who need it directly. Sometimes food kitchens will collect clothes so when visitors get a free meal, they can also get a free shirt if they need one.

5.) Electronics!

Electronics are easier to donate, if recycling is not possible, with many pick up locations by large stores or busy areas. If there are no pick up/drop off electronic places, local high schools, trade schools and the like will also accept electronics (working or not) for the students to tinker with. Women’s shelters and assisted living centers also accept (working) electronics, even if they are older. Many occupants need devices or tech related items to help them apply for jobs or learn new skills, and often these places don’t have enough to go around. Depending on what electronic you are trying to dispose of, you could use the frame (like a computer frame) as a cute planter or quirky garden decor, or paint it into an artistic piece. 

These are just a few of the tips I have picked up along the way! Happy reusing and recycling, SolarPunks! Let me know what you have reused or how you have recycled it.

[kayr0ss]

Hands that Remember [AO3 Link]

[Horizon Zero Dawn, Elisabet Sobeck Lives, Found Family, Mother-Daughter Feelings, GAIA is recovering, Ereloy]

Summary: Aloy saw the recordings, felt their grief over the death of their culture - the loss of their identity. Ted Faro had blown away the light meant to guide humanity through darkness - but she was willing to risk it all to take it back. To bring APOLLO back.  It wasn't the first time that the world asked her for a miracle, but it bargained with a miracle of its own: This time - she didn't have to do it alone.

[Wherein Elisabet Sobeck returns, GAIA is recovering, Erend is done waiting around, and Aloy discovers a family she's never had before to help lift the weight of the world off her shoulders.]

---

Chapter 1: Resurfacing

It was endless.

The dust and sand reminded him of the canyons north of Meridian—but it seemed harsher.  Endless, expansive. Flat. He’d lost sight of All-Mother Mountain days ago and soon even the icy northern peaks of the Cut had fallen behind the horizon. All that was around him were rocks and packed earth.

Clouds of dust rose from under his footsteps, caught in a wind swooping over from further west. He wondered if they would reach the end of the world before the end of this desert. Did it just… stop? Was there an edge where everything ceased to be, a void down below ready to consume anything unfortunate enough to travel just a bit too far?

He grunted at his thoughts. Way too poetic. Been hanging around too many Carja these days—and not enough ale to drown out all the needless chatter.

What was Aloy doing out here anyway?

Still, he pressed on with gritted teeth, pulling up the fabric of his scarf above his nose. There was shelter up ahead. The faint purple glow he was following led him straight down its path: a ruin of the Old Ones full of rusting metal and crumbling rock. There were a few trees in the vicinity, tall and shooting straight up from the ground as though they were arrows.

“Must’ve taken shelter here,” he grumbled to himself.

It was a short trek to reach the threshold of the ruins. There was an archway holding a dilapidated sign, looking as if a strong kick to the base would be enough to knock it over. For a minute he entertained the thought, but what for?

A pile of metal junk lies near the perimeter of the building—one of those rectangular containers, similar to those dumped by the Old Ones in the scrapyard near Free Heap. The building itself was covered in vines and… flowers? That’s when he noticed the grass by his feet. It was lush and green, much like in the Embrace, and where plant life thrives it means—

“Water.”

He picked up his pace, falling into a jog. The journey had taken a toll on him. He was glad to have kept some empty water skins on hand—a fresh refill and his store of dried meats would be more than enough to last him the walk back. It was a small comfort against the mounting restlessness that clawed at the back of his mind, the feeling that he was never going to catch up with her at the rate he was going. He wondered if he’d tracked Aloy down this far west only to have her meet him on the road—already on the way back.

At least he hoped she was. Coming back, that is. He shook his head. Not the best time to think about that.

Further inspection revealed no machines in sight. Odd. Did Aloy clear the way already? Or was there something else, something that kept them away? The thought was unnerving, but he kept his hammer stowed away at his back. Couldn’t pick up any threats, anyway. No mines either, he nodded to himself. Stalkers could be ruled out.

He looked up towards the building. It was worn down, only the haunting twisted metal of its skeleton left standing, rubble littered at the base. “Probably fed a whole thunderjaw into a forge to build this one.” He chortled. “Great. Now I’m talking to myself. Right. Water.”

He followed the way to a patch where the growth was thicker. “Huh.” He paused, frowning. There were purple flowers arranged in a triangle too perfect to be natural. Some sort of stone seating structure was in the center and—

“Fire and spit!” he sputtered out, war-hammer pulled at the ready while he awkwardly regained his footing after nearly tripping. For some reason, even in the heat of battle he decided he didn’t want to step on the violet blooms that seemed so dainty and beautiful.

Was that… a person?

His frown deepened, brows knitting together as he looked over some sort of machine suit. It reminded him of the material Aloy had crafted over standard Nora leathers. He gently prodded at the suit with the end of his hammer’s grip. No movement. The overgrowth consuming it was an indication that it’d been sitting there for, well, a while.

He stepped in a little closer, laying a hand along the suit’s shoulder to dust it away. Cold. He recoiled.

Cold as death.

For a second or two he considered scavenging the strange machine-suit for parts, but quickly dismissed the thought when he realized there might be someone… inside. He stepped back, putting down his hammer. Oseram were delvers, not grave robbers.

I should probably go. He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling intrusive and out of place, but one last look over the suit made him shake his head. Was this their home? He tried to imagine what the ruins might have looked before. Like Meridian, perhaps?

The person looked peaceful. Content. But it looked like a lonely way to go.

“You, uh…” he set a heavy gloved hand on the suit’s shoulder. “Have a good rest.”

The stillness didn’t last for very long. As he lifted his hand a cloud of cold, frigid gas began to leak from the small slits along the suit’s shoulders and joints.

The focus Aloy gifted him began to buzz, in sync with the deep onset of frantic panic at the pit of his stomach. By the forge did he break something? He stumbled backwards, hand coming up to tap his focus. Purple lights sprung to life—a spattering of odd blinking symbols and words that were enough to disorient him. Circles of light hovered highlighted portions of the suit, bringing up numbers and flashing words—counting down with urgency.

[WARNING:  Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Atmospheric Seal Compromised]

"Seal?" What was that supposed to mean? He frowned. Too sober for this.

A disembodied voice buzzed into his ear—eerie and inhuman, like how the Shadow Carja’s god HADES sounded, except not quite as threatening. A woman’s voice.

[Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Oxygen Supply—Depleted. Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Potable Liquid Tank—Depleted]

There was a chilling pause.

[External Personnel Detected. Assessment: User of FAS Standard-Issue FOCUS Unit Number ZERO-ONE-ONE-THREE - Assistance Required. Please attend to personnel within UTS Unit Zero-Alpha-Psi.]

“What am I—?!” He looked around in a panic, feeling out of his element. Was it talking to him? This was the sort of thing Aloy was good at! “What am I supposed to do?!”

[Please attend to personnel within UTS Unit Zero-Alpha-Psi.]

“You already said that.” He grumbled back, frustrated. Does that mean this thing—this…Old One—was still alive? Upon closer inspection he could see it: frost crawling out of the vents. Cold. Still as cold as death.

He couldn’t believe it. Frozen in time.

[Stand-by for assisted reanimation.]

He reached out towards the blinking lights across the rectangular badge on the suit’s odd chest plate. It responded to his touch with purple lights blinking into living words floating across his fingertips. He gasped.

He recognized that name.

[Disengaging Cryostasis Protocol. Stand-by for assisted reanimation. Projection: ninety-three minutes to thermal homeostasis.]

--

“Captain, what happened?”

Voices. Too far away. Or were they nearby? Damn. She couldn’t tell. Couldn’t even open her eyes. It was cold. So fucking cold—colder than Nevada had any right to be.

“Get blankets! Anything! Beladga, got any shirts you can spare?”

Why was everyone in a panic? Had she fallen asleep in the control center? Huh. She didn’t recall Travis sounding nearly as gruff as that.

Travis? The others—

She… she had a job to do. A mission. What was it? Everything felt distant—disconnected. She vaguely realized she that she was shivering but why? She tried to call out but realized that she was physically unable to speak, her throat feeling dry as sandpaper. Coughing erratically, she noticed that she was partially intubated with a sort of breathing apparatus.

[Seventeen minutes to thermal homeostasis. Please prepare for disengagement of auxiliary respirator.]

An automated voice was buzzing into her ear through her focus. She could feel her senses turning, along with the slight mobility of her limbs. It seems she was being carried—or rather, being laid down onto something soft. There were footsteps. Movements. The voices were hushed, secretive and confused. There was a soft yellow light through the ambiguous blur of color that swam around her vision.

[Auxiliary respirator disengaging.]

The machinery abruptly detached the mask from her nose and mouth. The sudden brightness made her recoil, her face feeling exposed. She fell into a fit of violent coughing—as if she had forgotten how to breathe. It was painful. God, it fucking sucked.

“Take it easy now,” said the voice from earlier. It was a man. He—He was speaking with her through his own voice. How is that possible? No one could survive out here without a suit. The atmosphere was too—

A sudden wave of nausea overcame her.

Memories of her last excursion came flooding back: the bunker door failing to seal. Her last transmission to the Alphas. Project Zero Dawn. GAIA—the Swarm!

Coming home.

Dying.

I’m supposed to be dead.

“I—” she rasped out, voice hoarse and jagged. Panicked.

“Whoa there,” there was a steady hand on her shoulder, helping her turn to her side. She felt something press against her mouth almost forcefully. “Drink this.”

“We got to get her out of that suit, captain.” There was another voice, female this time.

“I think—” the captain, she assumed, replied “—I think we need to wait a few more minutes. The device is telling me that—”

Everything was fading into black again.

--

“—else to go follow her trail, or just hope she comes back. She has to… she needsto see this. I just… Oh. She’s awake, I think.”

There was some shuffling. Once again, she was offered water. It was sweet this time. Did they mix in sugar? She tried to ask but she was so, so tired and…

--

Sobeck Journal, 1-27-66

I wasn’t going to see any of it anyway.

Best I can do is hope, I guess. The landscape is barren now – I’m kind of glad the other Alphas don’t have to see it this close up. Stings. I’m half-expecting to hear Patrick patch me in via holo, asking why I haven’t dragged my feet to the conference hall for the scheduled status briefing. He’ll take good care of the younger kids, him and Charles both. ZD and the Swarm seem so small and faraway now that I’m walking away from it all. Quite literally. Hauled my ass all the way to Nevada.

Glad mom isn’t around to see the ranch like this. When I close my eyes I can almost imagine it: the tall pine trees, the grass. Maybe I’ll get to see things the way they were before on the other side… wherever that might be.

I’m tired.

Time to rest.

--

She woke up with a jolt.

“Hey.

He was still there, sitting on the ground across from her and looking just as confused as she was. Her vision was clearer now—and every detail she managed to catalogue drove a spike of panic and confusion deeper into the hollow of her chest. They were in a leather tent lit by a small gasoline lamp in the corner. They seemed to be in the outskirts of an encampment, faraway enough to not be disturbed.

“I’m guessing this is freaking you out a little.” He scratched at the back of his head, unable to meet her eyes. He pointed to a waterskin laid down beside her bedroll. “Maybe get some more water in before you speak? I’ve got some dried meats too. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten in… a while.”

On the matter of guesses, she had a vague idea what might be going on. It was equal parts terrifying and exciting and a hundred percent something she did notask for.

She had an unfortunately stellar track record for hypothesizing, though. Chances of her guess being wrong were dreadfully slim. The cold. The scenery. Even the clinical tone and instructions of her Ultraweave Suit’s reanimation module—a system she helped develop herself, back when the prospect of sleeping through the disaster was considered an option.

It wasn’t. Not consistent enough to use en masse—not enough foresight to secure species continuity.

She took a drink of water, willing to steel her nerves before panic caught up with her executive faculties. She needed to orient herself with wherever it was she woke up in. Hell, forget where, the real question is—

“When… is it?”

He blinked. “Uh, today?”

“What year is it?”

The man’s expression softened—a look that didn’t quite fit with the rest of his character. He was big. Towering—even while seated on the floor—with broad shoulders and a figure strong enough to walk around with enough steel to build a car door, apparently. “You sound so much like her.”

“I don’t follow.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming along. She needed to eat.

“Sorry I—” he scratched at his beard. “It’s the reign of the 14th Sun-King, Avad the Liberator.”

Kings? Again?

“I’m Erend, captain of the King’s vanguard.”

He paused.

“You’re Aloy’s mother, aren’t you?”

-

fin

-

A/N: I'd like to acknowledge Tototops for doing an amazing job beta-reading this! It's always a pleasure, and my writing is always pushed to grow better with every suggestion and correction you help me with. x) And to my friends Sleepy, @theguardiandragon1, @saltypyrotato, @tanuki-pyon and Fridge for listening to my HZD manic fever ramblings and helping me make sense of the plot I had in mind.

Just finished the game about two weeks ago and read a bunch of fanfic. I consumed Writerly's Second Dawn (which is absolutely amazing!!!!), which is my foremost inspiration for even attempting to write fanfic of this wonderful franchise. I base a lot of my characterizations and format of story telling in this fic from their work, and hope to do so in a way which is still true to the unique plot I've set for it. I am very excited to be trying something new and to learn and get better along the way. Hope you all enjoy. :)

[mitsukijuni]

yet another smut fic of mondstadt npcs, this time Wagner and his apprentice, Schulz🤥

______________

Summer in Mondstadt means days of living through hell for us blacksmiths.

While the others are busy frolicking around in the grassy hills, winds intertwining in between their hair, the both of us are trapped in this cramped space; sounds of metal pounding against metal, water evaporating swiftly into hot mist as hot red iron was dunked into it. The small canopy on top our heads a slight reprieve from the smoldering heat.

With that said, the heat is a blessing in disguise. Summer in Mondstadt could mean a lot of things to others, but to me summer means that my master, Wagner, strips himself off of his shirt more often than any other seasons.

Opportune time for me to let my eyes wander about.

The scars scattered on his arm attracting my eyes, moving like water as he flexes his hand, shoulder blades tensing, hammering down on a rod; shaping it. Sweat dripping down his chest, making him gleam in the light. His presumably rock hard abs clenching as he heaved yet another lift with his hammer.

Although, this does bring some unwanted attention from the others, the town folks walking by our store repeatedly, sometimes even pretending to forget something, their actions deliberate and yet he seem to take no notice. Hell, even Captain Kaeya made a move on my master, leaning in too close for comfort, his only eye lidded with obvious lust.

Okay, maybe I am being a bit overprotective. Not my fault he's so hot.

I never knew when the seed of this —whatever it is— had been planted deep in my heart. But the one thing that I do know of is that, he'd probably never reciprocate this feeling that I have for him, the thought of it making my heart aches. Does he even, feel anything for me, I catch myself wondering at times.

Even when I had begged to him, face facing down into the dirt below, to accept me as his apprentice, he had begrudgingly took me under his wings. Every time I had presented to him a new craft of mine, a simple huff would be his answer before he melts it back down. But, its fine. As long as I get to be by his side, I would be fine admiring from the side.

"Oi!"

A hand; calloused and bigger than mine, circled my wrist, pulling it away roughly. I winced, the hold tight, almost bruising. "Watch what you're doing," he scolded, brows furrowed deeply. The slight panic in his voice alarming me back to reality. I raised my eyes to look at his bearded face, confused as to what happened that elicited such a reaction. That's when I noticed, the melted ore dripping down, my hand mere inches from it and nearly disintegrating my hand had it not been for him.

Silence fell, the topic dropped, faster than I could craft a dagger. The air around us tense as we continue to work and if there was a distance between us whenever we passed each other, neither of us did acknowledge it.

"Wanna go out for a drink?" I had blurted out, a silent hitch of breath escaping my mouth, scolding myself internally. He looked up, his dark eyes gazing into my own, his workspace now tidied and put away. "Sure," I almost missed it with how quiet he had whispered it out. My face lit up but I scrambled for words, explaining to him that he isn't obligated too but the tangent was cut short, "It's okay, Schulz. Let's just go already."

Knowing that I'd never get any other chance like this, I gathered myself, quickly catching up to his retreating figure, already heading towards Angel's Share. "Wait up, master!" I shouted, as I near him, walking briskly, following his pace. The night was silent, cicadas chirps filling it, when he said, "Just Wagner is fine, we're off work." It was my turn to stare at him, wondering since when he's become so, talkative. I hesitated.

"Okay, Wagner."

By the time we had reached the tavern, drinks were passed around, men and women stuffing their bellies with wine and countless pints of beers. The young lad, Venti was there too, drunk as it seems by how flushed his face had became. We sat on opposite ends, facing each other, between us a single pint of beer each.

Few minutes passed, the drink in my mug almost finished and yet not a single word was exchanged, leaving us-maybe just me-in an uncomfortable silence. The bearer stopped by our table many times, each time leaving a mountain of alcohol. And each time I drank and drank until I could no longer see the man in front of me clearly.

"I like you, Wagner."

I had messed up, I knew that and yet, I couldn't help but to gush out all of my feelings; bottled and finally being let out. Wagner sat there, his drink untouched. Empty beer mugs filled the space between us, the sight of the wooden table underneath vanished. By the time I had finished venting, an awkward silence hung amid us.

Wagner stood up, silently heading towards the bar, his pouch in hand. That's it, I was rejected, point blank. He must have left by now, the seat in front of me now vacant, my head hung low, tears brimming. A hand awkwardly clamped down on my drooping shoulder, sweat warming the spot. I glanced up, slowly meeting black eyes, red hue staining his cheeks.

He came back.

"Do you want to, um, come back to my place?" he sheepishly said, his other hand massaging his nape. I looked at him, surprised at what he had just said. With each seconds passing by, the red shade on his face grew brighter. "So, you're going to come or-"

"Yes!"

Or so I said, brimming with confidence too. But now as I sat on top of his bed, palms gripping onto my knees tightly, my thoughts wandered wildly to where this would lead us. Wagner waltz into the room, face still flushed from the amount of beers and ciders he had swallowed.

Rustling caught my attention; the man trying to —clumsily— untie the laces of his corset. The saliva welling in my throat felt heavy, I swallowed it before nearing his stumbling figure. "Would you like a hand, with that?" Wagner looked down at it for a second, accusing almost before relenting; his arms hanging limply by his sides.

Shakily, I held the ribbons, sweaty palms making me lose my grip on it. I let out a nervous laughter to which Wagner replied with a warm smile, my giggles fading, bright red blushing my cheeks.

We stood in silence, my fingers deftly working on the ties of the corset, metal clasps making a loud 'snap' sound that echoed in the room. I became aware that, the both of us are alone, in his room, whilst I was untying his corset and we're alone and I could see the chest hair peeking through from the laces of his shirt and

I have an erection.

'Fuck, why now,' I lamented, tilting my head back in frustration.

"Is everything alright, Schulz?"

And my erection grew harder, the way my name rolled off his tongue, albeit it came out slurred, was just incredibly sexy. My thighs shifting, trying my best to cover up said growing problem. Wagner however, was sober enough that he noticed the tent, proceeded to grope it, a drunken crooked smile creasing the corner of his lips.

"Wagner, wait!" At this, his hand stopped, the air becoming tense by the seconds. "You're not thinking right, let's send you to be-" my words were cut off with a simple punch to my shoulder, eyes wide as I looked at the taller man. "Schulz, you idiot. Why else do you think I invited you here?"

Oh.

I stared off to the side, feeling the embarassment creeping up my neck, unwilling to make any sort of eye contact with him. Calloused hand cradled my face, bringing me forward to look at him, warmth in his gaze as he lowered his head down, meeting my lips halfway.

The room, only lit by a candle, left us in darkness. Harsh breaths echoed in my ears as we deepened the kiss, my mouth clumsy against his own, experienced one. I let out a yelp when his hand brushed against my groin, making a shiver run down my spine.

Wagner's lips slowly moved away, leaving a trail of saliva and started to mouth at my neck, "You seem to enjoy this," he whispered with a tint of humour in his tone. "You don't even know the extent of it," I sighed out as his hand continues to rub against my cock.

A clank of metal and my cock was out, twitching upon hitting the cold air. The first stroke made me lean against the wooden wall, lips still attached on my neck, as Wagner leisurely jerk me off.

Hitched whines and gasp was the only sound that came out of me, his fingers lightly scratching the sensitive head before he flatted his palm against it, rubbing and rubbing until drool dribbled down my chin. "Fuck Wagner," I breathed out, eyes rolled back when he cupped my balls, rolling it in between his palm.

Suddenly, he ceased all of his doings, making me groan in frustration. "Can't have all the fun," untying the laces of his pants, Wagner sat on the bed; creaking under his weight, expectant as he looked at me. I gulped.

This was my first time doing anything remotely sexual afterall.

Kneeling in front of him hesitantly, I looked meeting the lust filled stare of his before opening my mouth and taking him whole. Which proved to be a mistake since moments later, I spluttered, choking on his length. Wagner's finger trailed over my throat, comforting, as his other hand slowly direct my head into motion.

Taking in his cock, inch by inch and with the help of Wagner, I was able to reach the base, breathing loudly at the effort taken. Wagner growled out a moan, the sound so feral making my own cock spasm. Mouth stretched open, painful yet pleasurable, I bobbed my head up and down, the tip of his cock hitting the back of my throat.

"Is this okay?" I asked, the words muffled and the only indication that Wagner was feeling anything, was the grip in my hair tightening. A popping sound echoed as I stopped to take a breather, momentary it seems when Wagner grabbed my head and started to fuck my mouth, leaving me gasping and holding onto his knees.

Just as sudden it happened, he halted, although his hips are still trying to buck into my throat. "Come on," was all the warning that he gave, dragging me up the bed effortlessly. 

Wagner, now stripped fully, crawled over me, his whole figure encaging mine. A dip and a kiss and I was writhing under him, clawing at any muscled surface I could reach. Tongue licking stripes over my neck, chest, stomach, and finally settling against my taint, leaving me a shuddering mess. Lapping at my puckered hole, he inserted a finger making my whole body tense.

He studied my face for a while, inserting another finger in, rubbing and searching for something. "Ah!" Wagner smiled, knowing. He pressed down, stroking it over and over, pre-cum pooling at the tip of my cock, face now scarlet all over. Mouth wide open as I tried to suck in air, desperate before Wagner took his fingers out, leaving me craving and hole throbbing in need.

Arms laid limp by my side, reaching out to spread my cheeks revealing my hole to Wagner, “Please,” a sharp intake of breath and he was on top of me once again, stealing all my air with a kiss, hands clumsy on my waist. I moaned into the kiss when I felt the nudging of the tip of his cock against my hole. 

Carefully, he pushed in, a gasp of pain released from my lips; breaking the kiss. Wagner braced an arm before leaning down, nipping and kissing my collarbones in an attempt to soothe my nerves down. It took minutes but finally, he was fully sheathed in. "Can I move?" Wagner breathed out, face scarlet and brows furrowed.

And with a nod, he moved. First, out all the way before going back in, making sure that I was opening up to his length. Tongue finds it to way my nipples, sucking in and sending jolts of pleasure, taking me away from the numbing pain.

He soon picked up his speed, brushing against that one spot, flashes behind my eyes. Muscled arms came to cradle my figure, bringing me closer to his chest as he slammed into me. Mouth wide open, a silent scream hitched, and with each thrusts I couldn't help but to just hang onto him.

Heat coiled in my gut and sweats trickled down my back; I am close, that I was certain of. Wagner seems to know that too, a warm palm circling my cock, jerking me in time with the thrust.

"Wagner, I, ah! I'm going to-" a kiss cut me off, moustache tickling against my chin. And with just a few more thrust of hips, I was cumming in his hand, stomachs splattered white and my insides filled.

We fell back into the bed, Wagner shifting his weight off of me, his cock slowly going soft in me. "Well, how's that for a first date," I laughed at that, Wagner letting out a huff. I let out a small whine when he pulled out of me. "Don't cry, there'll be a next time."

And to that, I looked at him, shocked.

"There's a next time?" My face was dusted red when Wagner gave me a look. "Of course there'll be a next time," hand ruffled my hair, making it unkempt even more. Smiling at him, I leaned forward to give him a kiss, Wagner grinning back into it.

"I like you too, Schulz."

[venomous-ko]

Wine Drunk while watching Godzilla vs Kong

Some major spoilers up ahead!

Mans really just annoyed the shit out of his coworker until he left so he could hack shit, huh?...I love it! 🤣🤣

——————————————

You mean to tell me that the explanation for why Godzilla attacked the one tech company site by the dude who studied Kaiju communication and behavior for a living is just, “sometimes people (and creatures) change”???? Like some dumbass justifying a toxic person/relationship??? Like excuse me???? Why are the literal teenagers making more sense than you?????

Also, we’re all in agreement that this facility is either housing Ghidora’s dead head, Mecha Godzilla, or Mecha Ghidora, right?!?

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Lol! “Apex Cybernetics!” That’s not foreshadowing! 🤣

——————————————

Apparently, I didn’t get my fill of white nonsense from Falcon and Winter Soldier, bc someone decided to put this blonde-hair-blue-eyed little bitch in charge! That’s not ganna go wrong somehow. 🙃😑👀

Like this bitch literally wanted to send a fucking child into unexplored hollow earth territory without a second thought! 🙃🙃🙃🙃 I was literally like 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕 for that entire convo.

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I’m sorry! This conspiracy man just met these teenagers, and his first impulse was, “yeah, theses seem like some good people to break into a tech conglomerate with!” 🤣🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

Why are these people surprised Kong knows sign language? These are people who study Kaiju (and presumably other animals in order to draw conclusions about certain behaviors) for a fucking living!!! We have primate species that recognize and communicate in sign language already! Why is this surprising???!?! Like...has NO ONE except this precious child tried this????

Also, nothing bad better happen to this child.

——————————————

That ship literally fucked around, and Godzilla let it find out! Lmao!

——————————————

Kong: Hey, Godzilla...look at me...

Godzilla: >:[

Kong: ...bitch.

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Precious girl: Thank you, friend 🧏🏽‍♀️

Kong: ☺️😴

THIS GIRL IS TOO PRECIOUS!!!!

——————————————

Bitch-ass White Man: How’s Kong with heights?

BITCH, you really ganna try that?!?! You really think you ganna find any aircraft(s) that are ganna be able to support all that weight?? Never mind any other problems with Kong trying to nope the fuck out of that situation and all kind of other hosts of problems!

And if you do somehow have one (or multiple) WHY TF DIDN’T YOU USE THAT BEFORE KNOWING FULL AND WELL YOU RAN THE RISK OF GODZILLA MERCING KONG’S ASS IF YOU TRAVELED VIA SHIP!?!?!?!

——————————————

Down the Hell Naw tunnel we go!

——————————————

“I think it’s romantic,”

I fucking love Millie Bobbie Brown’s character!! 🤣❤️🤣

——————————————

WHY IS THIS TEENAGER SMARTER THAN EVERYBODY OMG!!!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

“This is page one in the ‘Playing God’ handbook, right?”

I’ve decided I love this character! 🤣

——————————————

WHY YOU GETTING INSIDE THAT THING—Oh god! 😨 Why y’all got eggs!?!? This is like if Weyland-Yutani succeeded in getting Xenomorphs! 😬

——————————————

Oop! Locked in! THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T HIDE OUT IN MYSTERIOUS ROOMS!!!!

——————————————

Oh shit! Apex Cybernetics think they on that Wakanda shit now!

Also, why was that one Apex Cybernetics bitch bitching about how one of those HEAV crafts could power Vagas for a week if y’all clearly have a whole network or transportation using this tech!

And I never understood how tech companies kept that shit to world domination shit! Build a public transportation system with that shit! Boss man said he likes ideas that make him rich! Pretty sure that would do the trick!

——————————————

WINE BREAK!!!

Saving the rest of the last bottle for coking Gumbo, so gotta open up a new bottle

——————————————

Aw, Kong is so sick of this bullshit! 😂😭

——————————————

“It’s not working”

Bruh! Give it more that two seconds!

——————————————

HOW DARE Y’ALL USE KONG’S LOSS AGAINST HIM!!!! HOW DARE Y’ALL!!!

——————————————

HEAV go Brrrrrrr Shoooooooooooom!!!!

——————————————

LMAO!!! Monarch has their own brand of bottled water!?!?! Idk why that amuses me so much!

——————————————

This hallow earth portal thing is some Pacific Rim bullshit right here, lol!

——————————————

NYOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM

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Are we...are we really Ice Age: Dawn of Dinosaur-ing this shit rn??? 😂😂😂

——————————————

“It’s beautiful,”

Of course it’s beautiful! No hoomins have touched it! Lol

——————————————

Y’ALL GOT FUCKIN DRAGONS IN THIS BITCH!?!?!?!!! 8D YO!!! SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!!!!

——————————————

*marvels at the creature creation ideas*

——————————————

Kong’s first thought: *nom the dragon guts*

——————————————

THE ROCK HAND OMG IM GANNA CRY!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 It’s the same gesture the Precious Girl did OMG!!!!

——————————————

“We going in?”

“Yeah”

The BALLS on this child!

——————————————

“AAAAHH 😐”

*fear*

LMAO!!!!! I’M FUCKIN WHEEZING!!!

——————————————

“Sacrifice Pit”

OMG 🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

I KNEW IT!!!! MECHA-GODZILLA MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!! 8DDDDD

——————————————

YO PACIFIC RIM RAN SO MECHA-GODZILLA COULD FUCKIN SPRINT!!!!!!!!

——————————————

YO IT’S A GOOD THING I AIN’T SEEING THIS IN THEATERS BC I’D BE FLIPPING MY SHIT!!!!

——————————————

“Humanity, once again, will be the apex species,”

THERE it is!

——————————————

Why Mecha-Godzilla so skeeny?!? He need ta be thicc if he ganna take down REAL Godzilla!

——————————————

*Ryan Bergera conspiracy voice* Is this the real reason Kong was contained!? So this douche could snatch up Skull Crawlers without Kong intervention???

——————————————

OH SHIT!!! I think this thing is emitting alpha waves (or whatever we’re calling it) and THAT’s what set Godzilla off!!! He fought Ghidorah, heard this shit and went, “Nu-uh, bitch! NOT AGAIN!!!”

——————————————

Monarch dude: Yo, Godzilla’s headed to Hong Kong for some reason?

FUCKIN CALLED IT!!!

——————————————

This look like the door to fuckin General Grievous’s lair,da fuq?!? 🤣🤣🤣

 ——————————————

I got waaay too emotional over that handprint, y’all! 😭😭😭

——————————————

Y’all, the fucking art history major in me is fuckin screaming at this temple scene! The fact that some of these Kaiju not only had the urge and drive and capacity to build a fucking temple around this power source or some shit and create weapons like the axe that Kong just fucking Excalibured the shit out of that one skull crawler’s skull fucking implies the fact that there is intelligent civilization amongst these fucking Kaiju and all that shit! I want to know more about this shit! Take that you fucking racist-ass white historian motherfuckers!

(Note: I definitely needed to use talk to text for much of this bit, because there was no way I was going to be able to contain all my excitement in just typing, alone, lmao)

——————————————

BRUH!!! Why y’all exiting g the HEAV without no breathing apparatus or lead suits or nothing!?!?! In previous movies, y’all implied that these Kaiju lived in environments in which their environments were hella radioactive compared to our own!!!

——————————————

Kong is s the true heir to the iron throne, Lmao!

——————————————

FUCKING CALLED IT!!!! THEY HAD GHIDORA’S REMAINS IN THERE SOMEWHERE!!!!

——————————————

OH FUCK!!!! Y’ALL AINT JUST SENDING OUT ALPHA VIBES WITH YOUR MECHA-GODZILLA!!!! YOU SOMEHOW USING GHIDORA’S HIVE MIND OR TELEPATHY SHIT TO DO IT!?!?!?! AAAWWWWW SHEEEEEET!!! Y’ALL ARE BONED NOW!!!! FUCKIN BONEROWNED!!!!

——————————————

Godzilla! My bruh! My dude! You didn’t HAVE TO get up right where that bridge was!!! 😂😂 Ya douche bag!!!

——————————————

At the same time, tho, I can just hear him going, “Ah! FUCK! NOT AGAIN!!! Sunova bitch!! Motherfuckin!! STOP BUILDING sHIT SO DAMN HIGH!!! Goddammit!”

——————————————

You know, with all the Bright twinkly lights in Hong Kong, I can’t help but think of the sequel to the original Gojira movie ( that I can’t remember the title of ,rn) where he was fucking triggered by fucking lights. And I wonder if this little scene where he’s stomping all through Hong Kong is a tribute to that or whatever. But I’m probably overthinking it.

[Sober Edit: it was Godzilla Raids Again]

——————————————

*GASP* HOLY SIHIIIT!!! The axe is made out of Godzilla skute!?!?! GOLY BALLS THAT’S NOT ONLY COOL BUT CONTRIBUTES MORE TO THE FACT THAT THESE KAIJU (likely Kong’s species, in particular) WERE REALLY FUCKING INTELLIGENT AMD TJOUGHT, “Imma beat this muthafucka with their own spiky thing! Bc that’s what screws us over, so, why WOULD’nt it hurt them!?!” I need SO MUCH MORE of this Kaiju/Kong culture studied and shit! HOLY FUCK!!!

It even fucking glows!! Like ... they managed to fucking piece together that its glow was a fucking warning sign like Sting or some shit!!!! Holy fuck!!!!

Also, how does that work? How are the skutes still connected even after dismemberment???

 ——————————————

NO FUCKIN WAY WRE YOU—AAAAAAAAHHH!!! Excalibur that shit my boi!!!!

——————————————

I FUCKIN LOVE YHIS MOVIE HOLY SHIT!!!

——————————————

“ that’s Apex property now,”

Excuse me bitch! Are we really not gonna listen to the scientist who saying “hey we don’t understand the shit out of this fucking power! Maybe we should hold off on taking some fucking samples!”

Are we really just gonna ignore that shit???????

 ——————————————

Kong said: TRY ME BITCH!!!!

——————————————

Oh thank the GODS this Serizawa dude is taking precautions like his old man! Also, what is his relation to Ken Watanabe’s Serizawa!?!?!

——————————————

UH OH!! SOLDIER DUDES GETTIN ATE!!!

——————————————

OH SHIT!!! PILOT JUST GOT ATE!!! FUCKIN DRAGON BASEMENT UP IN THIS SHIT!!!

——————————————

BITCH YOU REALLY GON THROW A ROCK AT IT!!! FUCKIN NONSENSE OF THIS BITCH!!!

——————————————

LOVE AND FITE ME ENERGY IS STORED IN THE ATOMIC BREATH

——————————————

“Shoot him!”

WHY!!!???!! He literally had NO problem with you before then!!!

——————————————

Why does white man who don’t know anything about this vehicle suddenly know how to pilot this shit!???!?!!!!!

 ——————————————

Y’all love had SO MUCH wine!

——————————————

The FUCK this dude got a flip flop phone for!!!?!????!!!?

Da fuq!?!?! 🤣🤣🤣🤣 yeah that’s the most unrealistic part of this entire fucking movie! Not the fuckin Kaiju robots. Not the fucking hollow earth bullshit! The fucking flip phone! LMFAO!!!!

——————————————

“Maintenance! I’M MAINTENANCE!!! This bitch ain’t buying it”

That made me laugh WAY FUCKIN harder that it should have!!!!

——————————————

Y’all really ganna try to shoot at a kid!?! REALLY!?!?!??!

——————————————

GAWD, I’m so glad I impulse bought these oatmeal bites from Dominos! 🤤😋

[Sober Edit: I have no idea how my autocorrect managed to convert “Parmesan” to “oatmeal,” but okay! 😆😅]

——————————————

Kong be like, “Hey, bitch!!! You lookin’ for me!?!?”

——————————————

Find you a partner that bites your neck like Godzilla does! Lmao!

Sorry, I’ll be crawling back into my hell hole, now.

——————————————

EAT YOUR FOOKIN VEGETABLES GODZILLA!!!!!

——————————————

Did Godzilla just axe throw with his fuckin teefs!!!????!?!?!

——————————————

THIS IS THE FOOKIN MONSTER VS MONSTER FIGHTS IVE BEEN CRAVING SINCE KING OF THE MONSTERS HOLY SHIT!!!!

——————————————

“Really? Groupies, again?”

First of all, again!?! What happened last time???

Secondly, where tf are YOUR grpupies, asshole! No need to judge! Ya cunt!

——————————————

“There can only be one alpha,”

Really! You really gotta bring your toxic masculinity into a fuckin monster fight, my dude!?!

——————————————

Kong said, “Yeet! YEET SELF!!!”

——————————————

I am living for the feral fight scenes!!!!

——————————————

Kong’s expression , tho! 🤣🤣🤣

Like, “Can you ducking NOT, Godzilla?!? Can you, like, fucking chill??!!? Aight, fine! ASDASHKLSDJKLDZJL ADKLKDZDJ!!!!!!”

——————————————

Awwwww! Godzilla let Kong go, bc he knows what it’s like to be the last of his species! 🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭

——————————————

“This is how we [...] win!”

Oh, honey, you ‘bout to die! Lmao! 😂

——————————————

Oh god! I knew he was going to use the sign for “coward” at the most inappropriate time! Lmao! At least the Precious Girls is smart enough to know what Dumbass White Man means, lol

——————————————

Oh, thank god we do t see this dumbass in any sequels!

——————————————

Dammit, he escaped!

——————————————

This girl is too good!

——————————————

Did y’all really think you were ganna break into a semi-sentient Mecha-Godzilla by GUESSING ITS FUCKING PASSWORD!!?!?!?!!!!???? 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

YEAH!!!! TEAM-UP COMING THROUGH!!!!!

——————————————

“I was hoping to die with adults, but that’s okay,”

🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

“I’VE GOT TO DIE WITB YOU AND SOBER!!?!?!”

GOD, I love this movie!!!!

——————————————

OOOOOOHHHH HOLY SHIT!!!!! 😱😱😱😱😱 He powering up the axe!!!!!

——————————————

YOOOOOO KONG WENT PREDATOR/YOUTJA ON MECHA-GODZILLA’s ASS!!!!

——————————————

Kong said, “I’m done, y’all! Imma take a nap!”

——————————————

“Dad. Uh...Bernie.”

I fucking love Bernie!!! 😂😂😂😂

——————————————

JIA NOOOO!!! Don’t go running between two disgruntled Kaiju bby!!

——————————————

Yo, why do monsters have less toxic masculinity than we do??? Lol!

——————————————

Yaaaaaay! Kong has a new home!!

——————————————

WELP!!! I fucking loved this movie, and I highly recommend it to everyone!!!

[nanyoky]

@essayofthoughts asked for:

"Perc'ahlia babe and also Vaxleth and Pikelan"

Mwahahaha...

Perc'ahlia:

Who’s the messiest one: I mean it depends. Cuz Percy has a place for every little thing. But when he's mid project it tends to turn into organized chaos. Vex may occasionally leave things lying around if she's tired or distracted.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: definitely Percy, but it's less uncomfortable and more "easily flustered." Like it's just something he's accepted. Vex gunna smooch. Percy gunna blush.

Who’s the funniest drunk: Percy. Cuz he has the same attitude, but he's struggling to take off his socks for bed like "what a- a- idiotic invenshuhh..... Fucking.... Stuplid..... Imma make em better... Make... Sock....better...." While Vex is equally drunk but still doing her four step skincare routine like "yes dear"

Who texts the most: probably Vex. Anything between conversational back and forth, long rambling but deep trains of thought and "LOOK AT THIS DOG I MET"

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: hmm probably Percy but only in like a "parody of himself" kinda way. Nothing but a mix of chamber orchestra and emo music. Which aren't all that bad on their own, but he is a hashtag Byronic Posh Boi and so of COURSE that's all he listens to. Vex has cool(tm) tastes in music. Even if a song or artist wasn't cool (tm) before, it becomes cool(tm) once she likes it.

Who reads the most: I mean Percy. Not that Vex doesn't read, but he big nerd.

Who’s better with kids: ooo boy that's A QUESTION for some canonical parents, huh? I'm going to say Percy, just because I feel like Vex is a parent who can get overwhelmed sometimes and not know how to handle needy kids when she's running on empty (feel like I should say this does not make a person a bad parent- just that as a kid it's hard to understand that adults get tired). Meanwhile Percy has a natural tone that suggests what he's saying is fact, so if he's too tired for high energy toddlers he's just like "sitting by the fire drinking tea is a very fun game" and the bbs just climb into his lap like "you're right being quiet and snuggly is very fun" while Vex watches like "HOW."

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Percy's a good good tinker boi

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: listen one of them invented firearms and the other has a pet bear it's a toss up.

Who cooks and who cleans up: Both are what you might call... Functional cooks. Nothing to write home about, but they get the job done. But Percy excels more at baking (structured, exacting) and Vex is better at more loosely defined things like soups and sauces. Cleaning up is a duo activity and a nice part of their evening wind down.

Vaxleth:

Who’s the messiest one: deffo Keyleth. Houston we have a hoarder. She gets emotionally attached to everything, and saves up little bits and bobs of things for crafting and home diy projects all the time.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: probably Keyleth, but it's in like- the most Social Anxiety way possible. It's not so much that she's uncomfortable, it's that she gets worried that being snuggly or kissing will make others uncomfortable.

Who’s the funniest drunk: oh that's a hard one. Cuz we've seen them both be high quality drunks, (ie day drinking queen and "heterosexuality is fake and magic is just the fucking best????????"). I'd say Vax because I feel like he's more likely to insist he's not that drunk and doesn't need anyone to look after him, and therefore will get into more shananigans/flirt more

Who texts the most: another toughie. Probably Vax, in a similar style to Vex.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: they both have the same issue as Percy, in that their tastes are just a parody of themselves. Vax has three categories of favorite music: sad emo boy, sexy alt boy, and rebellious 90s girl. And then Keyleth is just unironically into the softest cheesiest music you've ever heard on the soundtrack to a chick flick. We're talking Jewel here, folks. Also retro oldies cuz Homeschooled Vibes. I'm going to say Vax tho, cuz he's the one who gets emotional about it, while Keyleth is just a casual listener. And he listens to more of her music than she does his. She'll send him the Live at the Troubadour recording of Kelly Clarkson's Sober and he responds back like "??? Why would you send me this??? At 10am on a Tuesday??? When I have things to do??? Now I'm crying on the bus?????" And she's just "glad you liked it! :D"

Who reads the most: probably Vax. He gets deep into reading in attempts to find less self destructive ways of getting out of his head.

Who’s better with kids: hm I'm gunna say Vax on this one because Keyleth has a tendency to try too hard with everyone and was also an only child who was forced into very structured time while growing up cuz expectations. Vax has more clear memories of actually just being a kid when the twins were with their mom, so he can relate easier. That being said they're both pretty good, as we see with that kid Simon, a scene that will HAUNT ME FOREVER.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: def keyleth. DIY queen. Vax just gets frustrated and is like "let's just buy a new one"

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: hmmm. Keyleth has A LOT of hobbies, but Vax def will do parkour, just cuz. Like he may have started back when he was still kind of a criminal, but now he doesn't have a practical excuse and he doesn't even like- record it or anything so there's no point to it. He just sees urban environments and goes "gotta jump. Gotta climb. Just gotta."

Who cooks and who cleans up: Keyleth has got prep on lock. Gardening. Hunting and trapping. Gathering. Cleaning and dressing and chopping. She's got this. It's adding fire to things where she starts having trouble. Vax picks things up from there just fine though, and covers dishes and such on the back end.

Pikelan:

Who’s the messiest one: Pike. Pike. Pike. Having a perma-home at last means she gets comfy, which means you can usually not see the bedroom floor. Scanlan is scandalized.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Scanlan tries. He likes the idea of being helpful with domestic stuff and not just a goofus who's just around for the fun parts of being together. Unfortunately he's never really lived anywhere long enough to get good at household repair, and it takes him way too long to do anything. Pike is pretty handy, but gets so busy that she'll just put up with something being broken for weeks. Best case scenario is Pike shows Scanlan how to do something so the next time he can do it himself and feel accomplished and she can come home to things being fixed and give him smooches and coo over him being a handyman.

Who's the funniest drunk? Pike. "I'M TRYING TO STEALTH."

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: it may shock people, but Scanlan has the same "once it's serious I get bashful" disease as Vax. Pike will absolutely give his bootie a tap in line at the grocery store and he just goes bright red. He tries to laugh it off like he's still the smarmy mess everyone knows, but she teases him endlessly about it.

Who texts the most: Scanlan is an absolute "good morning," "thinking of you," "how was your day," and "goodnight" text person before they live together. After they move in together it's just text versions of his cover songs about his love for her and dank memes.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: we know it's Scanlan. We've heard his cover tracks. Pike has similar cool(tm) tastes as Vex.

Who reads the most: Pike is probably someone who's always on the move, so she's more an audiobook person. But Scanlan is like fully ready for the dad life. Just loving any weekend where he does nothing but sit around in flannel pj pants reading a mystery paperback.

Who’s better with kids: It's a hard one. Scanlan second guesses himself quite a bit and worries every little thing he says or does is going to become Lasting Trauma. Pike acts more chill about it, but slowly gets more and more overwhelmed until she nearly has a nervous collapse. But their opposite styles work well together and they're able to be a pretty great team.

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: I feel like Pike is someone with a weird collection. It is either something a little spooky but cool and academic, like antique medical equipment, or something horrifyingly tacky, like a thong from every city she visits. Maybe both.

Who cooks and who cleans up: this is where Scanlan is a much quicker learner about domestic stuff. Pike is a good cook, but it's usually on the move so much she doesn't have the time for meal planning and prep. Scanlan absolutely throws himself into being a house husband and gets obsessed with cooking shows. Pike insists on helping with dishes tho.

[miekasa]

smh that picture is sexy asf first of all 🤨 anyways !

i feel like he would be a real picky ass eater, like he just gives the vibe of playing with your food and complaining about how there’s nothing to eat even tho there is indeed things to it

he probably got a part time job just to buy a mini fridge for his dorm to store his skincare products in, one day you came over and you were about to put your drink in there and he slapped your head say telling you it’s not for food and you’re just like....it’s a fridge?

he probably drives around his friends a lot, like he’s the only one with a car and he car pools so much and he’s very serious about how clean his car is! like he’s checking the bottom of shoes and makes sure none of bring food into his car, also he has a soccer mom yell like if you’re not in this car in 5 seconds i’m leaving y’all and this is mostly directed to connie and sasha when they find a taco truck on the side of the road or maybe eren when he’s trying to horribly flirt with someone

i think he would be a pre med student too, like he gives me “only in it for the money” vibes but like he probably figures out he wants to actually help ppl and whatever, if not a med student he looks like a econ/english major

never answers the group chat, like he’s the one person that reads everything but only replies once in a blue moon and even when he does reply it’s literally just a “lol 😭” and then he’s fuckin gone

he looks like he’s friends with a lot of ppl but lowkey doesn’t trust anyone except his close friends, like he visibly cringes when someone he doesn’t fw says they’re close and he’s like woah there buddy 🤨

throws cheese at ppl like the craft cheese, ion even know and i will not elaborate

makes sure his friends know what veggies and fruits are because god knows they do not, except for marco he’s cool

encourages ppl to drink water <3

him and marco are so close ppl actually confuse them for a couple and it’s gotten to the point that he doesn’t say anything anymore he’s just so whatever abt it

he bicthes so much! like on the phone to you, over text, even when he’s on the game with his friends and you’re in the bathroom doing your makeup or something like he just has so much to complain about 😭

WAIT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE MAKE SO MUCH SENSE 😭😭 ESP THE CAR THING!! I keep saying Jean is like a car guy without being a Car Guy. Like his car is his babie, but he still gives people rides all the time and tbh he’s probably the safest driver out of all of them.

The way I can literally see him forcing a vegetable down Connie’s throat LMAOO. On a similar note, and on the drinking water thing, he’s definitely making sure all of his friends eat an actual meal before they start drinking or go to a party. And he complains about it when they’re too drunk, but is the first to buy them a burger to sober them up.

PLS the way he’s most definitely reserved and doesn’t reveal much about himself to people he doesn’t know well. Jean is the kind of guy who could be like “whoah, relax I’ve only known you for two years 🙄 you don’t know shit about me buddy” and it’s lowkey true LMAOO

I can also see business or premed for him! I can see him starting either for the money like you said, or because he doesn’t know what he wants to do but knows at least he’ll get employed when it’s all over — but along the way he learns to like it, or realizes he’s pretty good at it! I also think Jean would be a pretty good teacher, maybe not to super little kids, but like 12 year olds because he can tell them to shutup but also, like, relate to them you know.

THE FRIDGE WITH SKINCARE HAS ME ROLLING ITS SO RIGHT SO MUCH OF THIS IS SO SO SO RIGHT

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 3

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~5,400

Warnings: Blood

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Lilah deliberately did not take any care in how she dressed. She wore jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, same as she always did. Tennis shoes. Ponytail. Chapstick. Foregoing a purse, she slipped some cash and her cell phone into her pocket, refusing to look at herself in the mirror hanging on the far wall of her bedroom.

The room, itself, was small, with an en suite bathroom, tucked into the back of the restaurant. It was one of the only occupied rooms on the main floor as Lilah was one of the few people living there full time who could have windows. Her queen sized bed was pushed up against the far wall, covered in blankets and pillows.  Lilah had spent a very long time living in motel rooms, jumping from team to team, job to job. When she finally got a place where she felt comfortable enough to settle down, she realized how much a creature of comfort she actually was.

With her cut of every job she went on, Lilah made a single purchase towards her little sanctuary. Her most recent score was a candle that she hid behind a stack of books on the nightstand next to her bed. Caramel Macchiato. She’d picked it up in the store, inhaled, and felt something inside snap so hard that she had to buy it immediately. Lilah didn’t have the courage to burn it, too afraid the others would somehow figure it out. So, she would occasionally slip the top from the glass and take a breath before replacing it carefully. Her own little guilty pleasure.

Thinking that she couldn’t stall anymore, Lilah flicked off the light and headed out into the bar proper, noting that she was the last to arrive.

“Is this how you want to take a meeting with our mortal enemy?” Seth said as he shrugged on his coat.

Lilah glared, “I don’t want to take this meeting at all.  Kate’s right, though. You need a voice of reason in that room.”

The woman, herself, wasn’t present. Lilah hadn’t pressed her for any further details of her time spent possessed by an immortal being. Kate hadn’t offered, either. But, Lilah noted that Kate did look at her just a little differently from time to time. Something softer in her gaze. Something secret. Lilah took those looks and hid them away from prying eyes. She only hoped that the others were too preoccupied with their own shit to notice.

“Hey,” Richie cut in, “I can be a voice of reason.”

“You’re just as likely as he is to go in guns blazing,” Lilah responded as she walked decidedly past them and out into the night.

The sleek black car Seth had washed every weekend by one of the bar staff was parked haphazardly in the mostly empty lot, the bulk of their usual crowd not due for a few hours.  She opened the driver’s side door and shoved the seat forward, sliding in to the back of the coupe. Seth slapped at the seat, and Lilah pulled back so that it didn’t hit her in the knees. He dropped down into it and shut the door, Richie not far behind.

In the few days since the letter had arrived, Lilah had done a remarkable amount of research. Brasa had set up a base of operations that looked more or less permanent. What surprised her was how close it was to them, two hours’ drive through the desert. Like Seth and Richie, he’d purchased a bar as a front and was operating some sort of company from it. Trucks came in on Tuesdays, delivering product that was packed in large metal boxes. She never got a clear look at it, though she was tempted to send one of the culebras that was loyal to the Geckos out there to get a peek. She noted that culebras visited throughout the week en masse, a startlingly large number, given that the bar wasn’t even close to the nearest town. Some of them looked to be transient, but there were others that looked like they had settled in the region.

The product never left, though, which was weird. It came in, like clockwork, but nothing ever left. Lilah had followed one of trucks to a gas station and had gotten close enough to lay down a GPS tracker, but the thing had failed. She still couldn’t figure out why.

They weren’t using the normal methods for money laundering, either. The bar could be considered a cash establishment, but their bank accounts looked solid, at least on the surface.  If Lilah could get a good look at their books, she might be able to figure out how Brasa was supporting a business that was serving the majority of the culebra population outside of the Gecko stronghold at Jed’s.

“You’re awfully quiet,” came Richie’s voice, a teasing note beneath the words.

Lilah snapped out of her thoughts, looking at the back of his head, “I’m just thinking about how we’re going to approach this.”

Seth lifted a hand, forefinger stabbing at the air, “We’re going to let him talk. He’s got a plan, we’ll hear it, and then decide if we want to be a part of it.”

So, the plan they’d had at the beginning was still the plan.  That, at least, was comforting.

“And if we don’t?” she edged quietly.

He shrugged, “We get the hell out of there.”

Easier said than done. They were going in virtually blind. No idea of how many were inside, no idea of the firepower they might have, and only one way in or out.

“And if its a trap?”

Richie held up a pistol she knew had been hand crafted with specialized bullets that would take down a culebra, if fired at the heart. His smile was self-satisfied in the way that told her he’d forgotten that she was still human and very killable.

“We got back up.”

Lilah’s jaw worked, “You’ve got back up. I’ve got zilch.”

This was true. Lilah didn’t much like guns, but she carried them whenever they went out to do a job. She never recovered the gun Brasa had taken from her, and every pistol she’d fired since then hadn’t felt right. Her thigh felt bare without the holster, her body exposed. The rush order she’d put in with their local arms dealer for the exact same gun hadn’t yet arrived and she was too stubborn to bring a gun that didn’t even fit in her hand right. Her aim, already questionable, would be shit, anyways.

Seth made a derisive sound, leaning over to dig into a bag on the floorboard by Richie’s feet.

“You know, I could get that for you,” Richie drawled. Lilah knew that tone, a soft needling that he sometimes resorted to when he wanted to get a rise out of his brother. It was an attempt to lighten the mood. An attempt that did not work.

“I got it,” Seth grunted as he righted himself, frowning.

Through the seats, he handed Lilah a knife tucked into a sheath, “Take that. At least its something.”

Lilah ran her hand over it, the handle was intricate silver, the leather worn but still in good condition. There were little straps that she could affix to her forearm so that she could hide the weapon with her sleeve.

Carefully, she buckled the knife in place, pulling her sleeve down over it and holding her arm aloft to ensure it was as concealed as it could be. Lilah wasn’t much good in a fight, but she knew one or both of them would cover her while she ran.  It was a testament to how fucked they thought this might go that they’d even brought her along. She was a good talker, far better than either of them. If they were actually going to broker peace, she’d need to work as a lead.

When they arrived, Lilah stared at it. The parking garage was the only way in or out. The entrance was wide enough that trucks could back right up to drop doors, unload, and then drive right back out again. Seth pulled in, spun the car around, and backed into a parking spot with a clear view of the exit. At least he was being careful. This boded well for whatever happened next. She glanced at the back of his head. He was sober, too, which also gave them a leg up in this mess. Drunk or high, Seth couldn’t be controlled. Sober, at least she had a chance.

Lilah waited for Seth to step out of the car, taking his hand as helped her up. He pulled her close, leveling a serious look at her.

“First sign of trouble, you run. Richie and I can handle ourselves, but you run. Got it?”

He’d said the same thing on their first job, robbing a minor drug dealer to get some extra cash for inventory at the bar. Lilah smiled and said the same thing that she’d said to him all those months ago.

“Duly noted, boss.”

He looked at her another moment longer, then nodded and let her go, shutting the car door and joining his brother near the front end.

“Lilah, entrance?”

She nodded towards an elevator, “Only way in is through there.  No stairs down, I checked.”

On cue, the doors opened and a man in a three piece suit stepped out. The suit was immaculately tailored, a soft baby blue that was accented by the purple of his button up and tie. Lilah scanned him—Rolex, Italian leather shoes, what looked like a real diamond in the tie clip.  The whole outfit screamed money in a way that was just this side of ostentatious. She caught the pinky ring—the other side of ostentatious, then.

“Mr. Gecko, Mr. Gecko,” he looked at Lilah, “Ms. McNamara.”

Well, shit.

She knew she’d only given Brasa her first name, but here this guy was, calling her by her last. Lilah frowned at him. She wasn’t the only one who had done her research.

“Who the fuck are you?”

She almost made a sound of censure at the bite in Seth’s tone, but they were already moving. The brothers stepped in front of her, working as a unit. Richie put his hands in his pockets, and she knew he was casting the man a hard look. Seth’s arms were at his sides, but his coat was unbuttoned so that he could get at his firearm faster.

“You gonna answer?”

The man, shorter than both brothers, shorter than Lilah (even though she was tall for a woman), was effortlessly cool, “I am Javier. Lord Brasa has asked that I bring you to the conference room.”

Lord Brasa, Lilah scoffed to herself. Fucking pretentious fucks.

“Well,” Seth prompted with a flicking gesture of his hand, “Lead the way.”

Javier smiled, fingers touching the button of his jacket nearest to the lapel, “Of course. If you please.”

The elevator doors were still open, the carriage looming in front of them. Lilah resisted the urge to touch the knife strapped to her forearm as she followed all three men inside. The floors were marble, the fixtures glinting with gold. More money screaming at her. Where did it come from? How were they running their scheme?

There was a ding and the door opened to a dimly lit bar. The tables, the bar top, the stage, everything was cast in red glow. It muted the dark of the wood, softened every edge in a way that made the room blur in a dreamy way. Lilah kept close to her friends, moving through the room to the back, where Javier opened a door.

The hallway was just as dark as the room behind them. Neither of the two men in front of her hesitated, so Lilah continued following, flinching when the door closed behind her. Javier led them through a few turned to a nondescript door, which he opened, gesturing for them to enter.

Catching the way Javier looked closely at her as she passed, Lilah breathed deeply, barely containing the growing disdain for the man. He smiled serenely.  She got the distinct feeling he knew way more than she wanted him to know, and that unsettled her. They were already on an uneven playing field. Every second she spent in his presence made her feel more unbalanced.

Brasa was already sitting at a long rectangular table when they arrived.  He stood as they approached, one hand remaining on the wood. Lilah noted that he wasn’t wearing his coat, though the gloves remained. He was, as seemed his habit, dressed in all black.

“Welcome,” he said amiably, though he didn’t smile.

Seth’s gait slowed to a swagger, and Lilah very nearly rolled her eyes as he slid a chair out and sat, Richie taking his place beside him. She pulled out the chair on the other side of Seth, sitting carefully. Brasa waited a beat, then sat as well.

“What do you want?” Seth asked.

Brasa leaned forward on his forearms, hands folded, “I can tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want another endless war. I don’t want to see my people hunted. I don’t want any more killing between us.”

Lilah watched his face as he talked. His voice was calm, even in a way that told her he wasn’t attempting to dissemble. His body language was guarded, but that was to be expected.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Seth replied, jaw set.

Brasa looked at him, unblinking, “I want peace. I have people to care for. My attention needs to be on them, not on fighting off every attempt to kill us.”

Seth smirked, “I wouldn’t say ‘attempt’. We’ve been pretty successful.”

Richie nodded, “Very successful, in some cases.”

Lilah felt her mouth thin at the boast. Telling Brasa that they had been killing off his people wasn’t conducive. She wondered if they intended to talk peace at all, or if this was a very dangerous scheme to irk their enemy. Her fingers itched to touch her knife. She resisted, barely.

“That’s right, Richie. Got a whole nest, what, six months ago?” Seth’s tone was conversational, bordering on jovial.

“We did, indeed.”

Jesus, she thought. We’re all going to die down here.

Brasa’s eyes closed briefly, and Lilah could tell he was annoyed, though he telegraphed nothing with his body.

“The point is,” he asserted, his fingers flexing with the third word, “I’m offering to stop the fight. A complete cease fire, if you will.”

“Why?”

Oh, God, why are you talking?

Brasa’s eyes flicked to her, his mouth twitching. Lilah sensed his amusement, felt it brush against her mind as clearly as any physical touch. Beneath the table, she lifted her toes, the urge to haul ass out of the room riding her hard.

“My kind were made for war,” he explained, “Bred for it, bound to it. We had no choice in the matter. Now, I can make that choice. I can stop the cycle, at least in this dimension.”

Lilah very carefully avoided the fact that he had just confirmed there were other dimensions. Though she had gotten a little background information on Xibalba, she hadn’t yet put it together that it was co-existing somewhere that wasn’t Earth. That put a lot of her reading into a very strange and very mind bending context. Focus.

“That’s it?”

His head cocked to the side, “Does there need to be more?”

“There’s always more with you people,” Seth interrupted blithely. “We just don’t know what it is yet.”

Brasa smiled a very small smile, “Perhaps. But, at this time, this is all that is on the table.” He tapped the wood with a knuckle.

“So,” Richie prompted, pulling a pack of cigs out of his jacket pocket. He tapped one out along with a Zippo lighter. “What are your terms?”

Leaning back a little in his seat, Brasa lifted a shoulder, “As I said. Complete cease fire on both sides. We’ll outline our territories and keep to our sides.”

Richie took a drag, considering. Lilah watched him mull over the words, his keen intellect working his way through the problem.

Seth sneered, “You gonna keep killing humans, while you’re at it.”

Brasa shook his head, “No need. We have our own supply.”

The trucks. That’s what he’d been bringing in on Tuesdays. A blood supply, but from where? The shipments were massive, would feed far more than she’d seen coming in through the garage. Unless, there was another entrance, something underground, perhaps? She hadn’t seen anything, not even in the blueprints she’d managed to snag from the city.

Seth looked unconvinced, “You say you’ve got people. How many? How are you going to feed them all?”

“That is my concern,” Brasa answered levelly. “Your concern is that your people adhere to the terms of our agreement.”

Richie flicked ash, saying, “I’ve got some terms to add.”

Brasa’s brows lifted, a silent urge for the other man to continue.

“I want no interference with bondmates. None whatsoever.”

Lilah had no control over the way her heart thudded, and she knew two of the three males in the room were hearing it. Though he didn’t look her way, she felt Brasa’s attention shift over to her, felt heat rolling towards her from where he was sitting.

His lips parted, “How do you mean?”

Richie stubbed his cigarette out on the wooden table, “We both know I’ve completed my bond with Kate. I don’t want her to be a target for retribution.”

Ah, there it is. Lilah wondered if Richie would bring Kate into this. She was the silent voice in the room, a key player in absentia. With what she knew about their interaction, it made sense that Brasa might want a little vengeance.

“Kate,” Brasa began, curtly, “Is not Amaru. And, neither am I.” He drew in a breath, “But, I agree that bondmates must be left out of any disagreement, no matter how fierce. They are too precious to be used as bargaining chips.”

Richie stared hard, his mouth thin, nostrils flared. After several long seconds, he gave a nod, indicating his satisfaction.

“Are there other terms you want to discuss?” Brasa asked.

Seth gave a little sound of thought, “I’m sure we’ll think of something along the way.”

Here, Brasa’s eyes lit up, “I agree. I would like to implement the use of an ambassador during the drafting of our treaty. I will send one of mine to you, and you will send one of yours to me.”

At this, Lilah felt Javier step up to the table, though he didn’t say anything. Seth glanced at the man, tongue touching the back of his teeth. Lilah could feel how they’d been boxed in, though she doubted either of them knew just how it had happened. Or, why.

“Why would we need to do that?” This came from Richie, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

For the first time since they’d entered the room, Brasa relaxed. Lilah felt a little jolt of fear go through her. Relaxed was not going to go well for them.

“I have either brokered or been present during the brokering of many, many peace treaties.”

“And, how many of them have you broken?” Seth bit out.

Lilah felt her throat work around a noise she’d been holding back for a while. A short, guttural sound that meant ‘shut the fuck up’. They were almost through this, and if he could keep from pissing Brasa off, they could maybe end out with a good deal.

Ignoring the comment, Brasa continued, “In my experience, the first draft is rarely accepted as the final. It will go through several revisions before we add our signatures. The use of ambassadors is standard practice.”

Seth took a moment, staring Brasa down, “Who do you suggest?”

Brasa lifted a hand, indicating the man beside him, “Javier will suffice for us. He knows my expectations. And for yourself?”

“Richie’ll do it.”

The man in question scoffed, leaning over to talk lowly with his brother, “I’m supposed to be running point on our other projects. How would I have time to draft a peace treaty?”

“You don’t sleep, Richard.”

“I do, too, sleep.”

“Like two hours a day.”

“That’s still sleep, you asshole.”

Lilah touched her temple, knowing that they’d come to an agreement eventually.  She’d just have to listen to them bitching about it for a bit first. Across the table, Brasa hid his smile behind his hand, dark eyes glancing at her. She avoided his gaze.

“This project will likely take several months, and extensive ongoing meetings,” Brasa said eventually, leaning his chin on his hand casually, “Can you spare your brother for that long?”

Seth paused in his bickering, his brain working around the problem. Lilah watched his expression carefully, waiting. The furrow between his brows relaxed and she knew he had it. He looked at her and she knew she was going to hate what came out of his mouth next.

“McNamara,” he muttered. She was already shaking her head, “You do this all the time.”

“I negotiate our cut when we pull jobs, Seth. Its not the same thing.”

“Close enough,” he responded quickly, turning in his chair to look at her head on. “You know what we’ll accept, anything else you can run past us.”

Lilah stared at him, though her attention was straying to the heat creeping up the side of her neck to her cheek. It took effort to keep from shifting away from it, the unfamiliar weight disconcerting. She felt her resolve crumbling under the pressure.

“Seth,” she breathed, “Richie’s right. You’re an asshole.”

Then, she turned in her chair and faced Brasa, “I’ll do it.”

She sensed more than saw his satisfaction. They had just given him something he wanted. Lilah was unsure how she felt about that.

“Good,” Brasa announced, rising.  “I have an initial draft in my office. I also have a separate office for your ambassador. I will show her both, and then you may be on your way.”

“Hold up,” Seth said, rising, “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lilah grumbled, already circling around the table. “Besides, he’s got a lot to lose, if he kills me.”

No one needed to know just how much Brasa stood to lose with Lilah’s death. She let the implication stand in the deadened air, though. With more confidence than she felt, Lilah stood before him, waiting for him to lead the way.

After casting her another assessing look, Brasa turned and moved towards the back of the room. Another set of doors, another hallway, and she was stepping to a massive room that looked like it was carved right out of the earthen stone.  She was entering it from the side, about ten feet of rock separating the front of the room from a pool of water that was bisected by a walkway.  Cast once more in a red glow, the walkway led to singular desk with two plush chairs.

“Good work out there, by the way,” she commented, uncomfortable with the extended silence.

He looked back at her and smiled. Lilah had to swallow back the shock of how young he looked when he smiled like that. She knew he was ancient, knew that he’d seen things she couldn’t even fathom, and yet...his boyish pleasure at the compliment was so evident that it washed all of that away.

“That wasn’t work,” he replied, moving towards the desk, his hands slipping into his pockets, “That was a negotiation.”

Her eyes narrowed, “For the treaty?”

“For you,” he answered, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Lilah bristled, “I thought bondmates weren’t going to be used as bargaining chips.”

Brasa huffed a short breath, turning and leaning against the desk, “Its been weeks, Lilah. Forgive me if the separation has made me brash.”

What he’d done wasn’t brash. It was cool, calculated, efficient. He’d maneuvered not only the peace he sought, but a guarantee of her nearness within ten minutes. She was in over her head. She was in way, way over her head.

Licking her lips, Lilah approached him with all the wariness that she would give a wild animal, “What do you want from me?”

He looked at her a moment, “Time.”

“Time?”

“Yes,” he confirmed with a dip of his chin, “Just time.”

She thought about it, “Then, I need something from you.”

Lifting from the desk, he stood up straight, “Name it.”

“Discretion. I know those men out there. I know what they are capable of. If you really want peace between our people, they cannot know how you and I are...connected.”

He considered it, and she could tell that he was on the verge of refusing. This was a proud male that she was dealing with, someone who’d fought a long time to get where he was. The little bit that she knew about bondmates made the request seeming somehow unreasonable.

“You ask too much,” he murmured, taking a step towards her. “I have already given you more than I should.”

She was bewildered, “A few weeks? Is that more than you should? This is my life we are talking about.”

Heat blew at her, his anger a physical thing, “This is my nature we are talking about.”

His words were lowly spoken, but filled with such an undertone of severity that Lilah couldn’t bring herself to reply.

“I am Xibalban,” his hand cut across the air, “It is my right to claim my bondmate when I find her, no matter the circumstances.”

“And, what about my rights?” Lilah sneered, arms crossing.

Brasa took a deep breath, centering himself. Then, he took another breath, his eyes focused and she could tell he’d already formed another deal to make, “I’ll need something from you, to keep this secret.”

Ice moved glacially down her spine, a cold kind of fear. Her skin pricked with awareness. She jerked her head to the side, indicated for him to continue.

“Blood,” he stated, “Blood and bond.”

There was a soft lilt in the way he said it, a hint of ritual. Lilah’s jaw clenched as she waited for more information.

“I need to assured of your safety, of your strength, when you are not with me. I have many enemies, and if they discover you are human—if I haven’t fortified you properly—they will kill you. We will have a blood exchange when we meet, every time. That is what I want from you.”

Blood. Time. Discretion.

Lilah nodded, “Done.”

He was satisfied, but he was not pleased. Lilah could read it in the shift of his body, the ash in his scent.  She waited, unsure of how happy she was with the arrangement.

“We will begin now,” he announced, a blade already in his hand.

Lilah closed her eyes, working to keep her instinctive reaction at bay. An angry Xibalban with a knife was not to be taken lightly. Before she could react, he appeared in front of her, taking her arm—the arm with the knife strapped to it. Lilah didn’t have the ability to pull back as he lifted the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She did have the ability to glare at him as he laughed.

“What were you going to do with this?”

“Well,” she deadpanned, “Shooting you didn’t quite work out last time. I figured another method might be more effective.”

He flashed his teeth at her, “I applaud the effort.”

“Thanks.”

Letting go of one arm, he took up the other, peeking underneath the fabric. Satisfied that she wasn’t harboring any other weapons, Brasa pushed it to her elbow, glancing at her for her readiness. Lilah gave a nod, hissing when the blade went through her skin.  This cut was deeper than the last, though just as precise. He brought the wound to his mouth, sucking gently.

Lilah didn’t know how to feel about the way her body reacted to watching him drink from her. There was an alien revulsion to the act, itself. Mentally, her brain screamed that she was in danger, that she had to get away. The primal part of her brain, the thing that was deeper and stronger than any other, ensured that she stayed right where she was.

He groaned against her skin, and she felt the vibration of it go right through her, rolling along her arm and over her chest. His body was so close, the scent of coffee and caramel all she could sense. Lilah kept trying to breathe, kept trying to remain upright. When she wavered, his arm went around her waist, pulling her into a broad chest. Her free hand gripped his shirt for balance.

Too late, and too soon, he pulled away, his tongue lingering over the cut a moment longer. Lilah swallowed, eyes wide, when he looked at her. The black had taken over the whites of his eyes again, and though his lips weren’t pulled back over them, she knew his fangs had dropped. She held her breath.

Without a word, Brasa slipped the button at the cuff of his shirt through the buttonhole and rolled it up, blade slicing through his forearm. She almost said no. She almost shoved him away and ran full sprint back to Seth and Richie. His eyes stopped her.

Brasa’s eyes, black as they were, were so wide and beguiled that Lilah had to stop and stare. He was looking at her with such unrestained awe, such grateful affection that she made no move to resist as he guided her to his own skin.

Lilah wished it had been a fluke. She wished that her memory of how good he tasted was so distorted by adrenaline and fear that it couldn’t even come close to reality. He was...exquisite. Honey thick, and twice as sweet.

She had to stop this. She had to get control. Turning her head, Lilah tried to get away. His hand slipped to the back of her neck below her ponytail, a firm grasp.

“More than a mouthful, this time,” he murmured against her temple, “More, Lilah.”

God help her, but she took it. Swallow after swallow, her eyes squeezed shut, words of praise sounding her ear. When he finally allowed her to lift her chin, she struggled to breathe. She didn’t know how long she’d been at it, only that his taste remained, coating every inch of her mouth.

His arms held her steady, “You did so good. So good.”

Lilah felt her body overheat, sweat forming on her temples. His face swam in her vision, so close she could feel the vibration of every word he said. Though her sight was blurred by the intensity of what she was feeling, Lilah could absolutely tell that he was still wearing that expression of awe, that he was looking at her as if she were the entire world. And that scared her.

Drawing on years of experience with unstable and dangerous situations, Lilah righted herself, rasping, “I need to get back. They won’t wait for long.”

Brasa ran his hands down her arms, the action serving to compose his demeanor. Assured that she could stand on her own, he stepped away towards his desk where he picked up a thick file.

Handing it to her, he explained, “This is the first draft. Take a look at it and we’ll discuss edits.”

Javier was standing near the door as they walked out. He handed Lilah a Gatorade with a smile. Lilah’s eyes cut at him as she took it, thumb and forefinger already twisting off the cap. She’d have to get more details on that man as soon as possible. He was definitely more than he seemed.

It wasn’t until they were almost home that Richie finally turned around in the front seat and cast her a curious gaze, “What happened in there? You haven’t said anything.”

Lilah caught Seth looking at her in the rearview.  

She shrugged, “He showed me an office and handed me the file. He wants to see our edits as soon as we have them ready. I’m going to look at this tomorrow and let you read what I come up with.”

He wasn’t satisfied with her answer. Lilah could tell by the way he sucked his teeth. She didn’t care. She had much, much bigger things to worry about.

[mrdragonageherself]

The first time it happened it totally caught him by surprise.

Seeing her.

He didn’t want to leave the house, he wasn’t ready to be seen - to be known. But the booze had run dry and the fridge was empty and he knew he needed to at least have… Something. He didn’t feel like eating but he didn’t want to get his stomach pumped and have to face Steel.

So he put on his ugliest hoody, pulled his hood up, put on dark sunglasses and went out.

At first it was just a smell, that honey jasmine shampoo she used - just a waft - was enough to snap his head up, have him looking around. And he saw her, a glimpse of her dark brown hair as she turned the corner ahead into the sunlight. His chest broke open, set his heart alight, exposed like a raw nerve.

“Corinne!”

He couldn’t stay still, couldn’t risk losing her. No. Not again. She couldn’t slip away. Not like - not like.

He was running before he realised he was even moving, around the corner in a flash but she was gone.

He looked all around, grabbing a nearby woman with brown hair to check her face, but no she was not even similar - her hair long and straight, her nose was all wrong, her eyes a dark brown - and he spun in circles looking. 

He saw her. He saw her! She was just there! Where could she have gone? But she wasn’t there. There was no one and the passers by looked increasingly concerned - afraid. Where was she?

She was just here. She was just in his arms. He didn’t want to hurt her, he didn’t want her to hurt herself but - but she got away from him anyways. And she - She slipped away, she fell. She jumped?

But she had just been there. He had seen her!

He felt his throat closing up, the sun felt too bright, everyone was staring. Looking at him like he was unhinged, the woman he grabbed cowering away from him like he would hurt her.

No. He’s not a villain. He’s not…

“I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out of clenched teeth. “I thought you were someone else.” 

Not her. Not her this time.

It didn’t stop him from hitting the liquor store, trembling the entire way.

The next time it happened felt natural, like she was never gone. 

She was standing in the stoop next to a cafe, leaning against the wall ankles crossed the way she always did, her smile crooked as usual as she smirked at something someone said to her, holding her cigarette between two fingers lazily as usual - it might drop. 

She always managed to drop her cigarette if she got caught up talking. ‘Oh shit!’  and she’d laugh and pick it up, pretend to brush it off, take a long hard pull to keep it lit and he’d watch how her cheeks would hollow as she pulled, the way she puckered her lips. 

Ice shot through his veins. Lightning struck. She was so close. She was here! Tears spilled before he felt the urge to cry. The desperation.

Please .

He grabbed her by the elbow.

“Cori -!” The woman - not Corinne - turned to face him and the spell was broken. Not Corinne. No, this woman’s eyes were heavy lidded and a dull blue. Not Corinne. Not her eyes that lit up like molten gold when the sun hit them, the flecks of sea glass green only noticeable when you got close. No, this muted blue absorbed the sun. Not Corinne. This woman was in a mini skirt, legs exposed to the sun - Corinne never showed her legs. No, how could he be so stupid.

Disappointment hit like a tonne of bricks, a bowling ball in his stomach weighing his whole body down. The adrenaline spike leaving his body a wasted husk.

“I - I’m so sorry, pardon me,” he felt unreal. His throat choking his words, tears falling heavily. Gently pat her arm as you go. Not Corinne. He could hear the woman’s whispers with her friends as he walked away. Wasn’t that Charge?

But it wasn’t Corinne. No, Corinne was - she was gone.

He saw her fall. He let her go. He let her slip away from him. He didn’t hold her tight. He let her come with him. Let her jump.

The trembling never stopped. Cold sweat and gnashed teeth fighting his body’s will to just give up then and there, fighting step by knee knocking step to get away from there.

Not Corinne. Not his Rinne. She was gone - he let her go.

He stumbled down the street, burning inside the whole way. There was tequila at home. Beer. He could see her in his dreams.

The worst times were the most gentle. When she didn’t disappear right away.

It wasn’t his usual haunt, Wei might find him then. Drag him back to his apartment and sober him up.

He was many things at this point in time, but one thing he could not be was sober. That was not for him. Not with Becker gone.

Ortega’s head was spinning, he was unable to keep it upright when the manager walked by and told the bar staff to cut him off. But they didn’t make him leave. So he sat at the bar, head on the dark wooden counter letting the world spin. Misery washed over him in waves, knocking him farther and farther down. The pressure was too much, the waves felt like they wouldn’t stop till he was in the dirt.

He felt movement next to him so he turned his head to see who had moved to sit next to him.

He felt his heart stop - but he was too heavy with drink to fully react.

She sat next to him. Tapping a box of her menthol smokes off the bartop, pulling one out (not the upside down, the one she turned around the second she opened a new pack, the lucky one - not that one), giving him that crooked side smile as she placed it between her teeth.

“Think they let you smoke in here?” She asked. She threw him a disparaging glance, the way she always did when he got messy. His heart felt so full. Tears spilled from his eyes though he didn’t have the strength to lift his head. He was afraid to reach for her, the second he touched her she would leave the way she always did. “You look like shit.”

He coughed out a bark of a laugh, a wet soggy sound, as the tears fell. She was swimming in his vision. The world spinning, the tears making her blurry, but it was her. Eyes just the right shade of bright hazel, skin the right pale olive, mole on her cheek, her feet not able to reach the floor from the top of the bar stool.

“Yeah.” Was all he could croak. She would come back like this. All blase. Like she was never gone.

“Didn’t take you for a wallower, old man.” She scoffed as she lit up her cigarette, regardless of whether or not she was supposed to.

“You jumped.” He explained to her, like it was news to her. God, why wouldn’t the tears stop? He just wanted to see her. Feel her warmth. Hear her voice.

“Happens.” Was all she said by way of explanation, on the exhale of her drag. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

He barked out another laugh. He was so happy, his heart felt so full, so warm. He felt delirious.

“Yeah, you are.”

“You’re paying for the drinks, right? Nearly dying doesn’t do great things for your finances. Plus.” She looked him up and down, looking annoyed but there was a warmth there. She was happy to see him. “I think you’re done for the night.”

“Probably.” He had so much to say, but he couldn’t get it out. The tears wouldn’t stop coming, rolling slowly, lazily out of his eyes, soaking his sweater. She was here. She was alive.

She motioned to the bartender and had a beer off tap placed in front of her. Typical. Always happiest with the cheapest beer. Said she could taste the entitlement in craft beers. Fancy wasn’t her style.

“Gonna give me more than one word replies or are you too drunk?” She grinned at him, sharp and wicked the way she always did when she was teasing him.

“Yeah.” He hiccuped a half sob, half laugh in response and Corinne threw her head back and laughed loudly, her typical hyena cackle. An ugly laugh she called it, but there was nothing more beautiful to his ears. He found himself laughing along with her laugh through the tears.

“Why did you go?” He finally asked when the laughter faded back into sobs. He missed her. He missed her so, so much.

She looked at him sadly and opened her mouth to respond.

“Ricardo?”

Ortega’s head reactively snapped to the voice calling his name, turning to see his best friend Wei Chen, a concerned frown on his face.

Of course he’d find him.

“Who are you talking to?”

He snapped his head back to Corinne but she was gone - like she was never there, just the faint smell of menthol cigarette smoke.

A feeling of desperation clawed its way up Ortega’s throat once more, one he didn’t have the energy to stop or react to. The tears spilled out hot acid now, not warm and soft. These were thick and burning his skin.

“Where’d she go?” He whispered, as though he didn’t know. As if it wasn’t his fingers she’d slipped through. As if he wasn’t the one to lead her to her death. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to want to fight but the alcohol, the sadness weighing down his limbs prevented him and he couldn’t move, could only feel his throat close up as his head spun and his stomach lurched painfully.

Chen looked at him full of pity. He didn’t want pity. Chen couldn’t understand, he never liked Corinne and certainly never loved her. Not like Ortega loved her. Chen didn’t watch his heart put a gun in her mouth, he didn’t have to fight the love of his life to stop her from shooting herself only to slip out of his grasp at the last moment. Only to watch her plunge to her death.

“Let’s go.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command. Steel would be a better Marshall than Ortega ever was. He would’ve made the right call that day. He wouldn’t have let any more people die. Corinne would still be here. Anthema too.

“ ‘Rinne was here…” It came out as a moan as Chen pulled Ortega from his bar stool, wrapping his arm around him and carrying him out.

“Rinne was here.” He insisted through tears, unable to hold his own weight.

“I know.” Was all Wei replied, holding him gently as he took him back to his apartment to get him cleaned and sobered up.

Eventually Ortega got numb to it. She didn’t stop appearing, but he got used to it. He could live with her phantoms if it meant she never went away. That he could see her still in some form.

So when he found her in a random diner, he wasn’t too shocked. She looked different than she usually did, but that might’ve been a reflection on him. He was letting himself live again, maybe it was killing her.

But this time she didn’t disappear when she spoke to him.

She was smoking tobacco, the type you roll yourself not the pre-rolled menthol type from a carton. That was new too.

This time when she stood up to leave and he hugged her. She stayed. This time she didn’t disappear.

This time she was real.

So real it felt unreal.

She was different, angrier, sadder, older. Said she wasn’t a telepath anymore. But she was alive. He was so scared she’d disappear. He took her to see Chen under the guise of needing her advice for Angie. But really he just needed to make sure she was real. And that he hadn’t finally just snapped.

But she was there. She was real.

And when she left, went home he couldn’t stop shaking.

She was back. She was real. His heart was home.

[crackcrocs]

DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #3

3. Transformation Central

the entities of my personalities would like to come together in one voice that speaks through me, we or I call this collection of words from the mustiest corners of my brain to this note page to voice something that might come close to what I feel underneath the skin I wear. In all my unorganised words- I might even go as far as to call this a poem, titled:

‘TRANSFORMATION CENTRAL’

sub characters in my head would appreciate if this could be visualised & understood through as deep a lens as humanly possible. even I confuse myself so if you can decode or relate to any of this, wonderful. If not, I’m locked in my own mind, swallowed the keys to my soul.

SIMILARITIES & INTERCONNECTEDNESS BETWEEN HUMAN & PLANT CONSCIOUSNESS EXIST! if you look closely at my nose freckles you’ll see the resemblance of the constellations above. if you look at the human veins & the layout of a tree, this is further proof.

{VISUALS THROUGH A SEPIA WINDOW STARING @ THE AUTUMN LEAFS; IMAGINING THE SEEDS UNDERNEATH, THROUGH NUMB ROOT VESSELS THAT PERMEATE THROUGH EVERY MEMBRANE OF MY EXTERNAL TO INTERNAL ENVIRONMENT}

~FEATURING THE VICIOUS CYCLE OF DEPRESSION & PERFECTIONISM.

here goes:

What is this part of my mind ?

If you want; delve inside-

I may look sweet like Alice,

but underneath it all

I deteste looking in the mirror

-cos I see the mad hatter.

my inner child needs a platter-

full of care not distortion & abuse pls.

less fibbin would’ve been a breeze.

now following the dead fish in the stream!

HOW on EARTH do I fit with the cod & the Haddock?

I’m the rainbow fish- beat & battered.

dim my own light cos I’m too afraid to shine.

alone.

thieves tried to steal my shiny scales.

I sat and watched them grow.

In the sea realm they were mean gargantuan selfish whales, with poisonous shark fangs & alligator tails. scorpion hands. (gremlins)

and still they make me feel like the alien-

I cant take it.

Make it make sense ?

I can’t.

controller in my hand-

Off balance stance.  

anxiously I move round like a wobbly jelly.

where’s the button to balance my chi & shut out the ego ?

the teLLIE telling lies to our vision!

change the channel aura terracotta orange- daily dosage of vitamin D & C.

catch me sun gazing by the sea

head buzzin like a bee.

speaking from a dusty box

stuck on top of a forbidden shelf

cos I dunno how else.

I’m tryna delve deep but forgot how to dive

How can i visualise? scenery foggy-

the establishment man with the glue gun got me xD

inner monk burning but at peace

Cos I refuse to believe

If the only way is the American dream

Interconnected; like the frog in science -let’s dissect it!

down to every floating atom spirit neighbouring your door

subcategories & divisions, it’s more!

than the rich and the poor -prism that’s been built

do we all feel like a performance monkey on stilts?

will my data be extracted & used to mould a robots personality some day?

well obviously not.

does the price of our lives all amount down to slave ways?

LABOUR YAY!

but morals & values it seems we’ve forgot.

sO If i don’t speak its cos I’m lost.

or maybe i’m enlightened-

Standing at the edge of the porch;

watching TRYING to understand how the flowers grow.

questioning eVERYTHING man made!

I’ve stepped out of the perfect picture frame

I can see the coal pollute the sky

I need to hop on the train-

but I’m comfortable

Sunset to sunrise statue standing still.

what’s the ingredients to life’s yucky pie?

I’ve exceeded mental lotteries.

Sanity n universal peace would be a trophy.

TIL then I’ll be crafting & shaping a solid pottery reality,

with a few pence, gum, and a bandana of belongings tied to stick.

thinking one day I’ll be laying the bricks

& building a kingdom of bliss.

guess for now I’ll use the intricate delicate materials in my tool box- that’s all I’ve got.

might have a long way- maybe worth a shot.

I observe, cruisin in the sky.

dunno why..

I jus look @ the hills.

Only time & history reveals.

no thanks mr men-

I don’t want your prescription pills.

there’s enough propaganda as it is.

I won’t jump on the merry go round-

til my core trusts & envisions we’ll actually feel safe!

I don’t want to take part in this faux fur, sweet nothings & a jack in a box punching blur, so called future.

oh and genuinely thanks quarantine-for once again, I can hear bird sounds!

guess this is me tryna speak out loud!!!...

it’s not thrilling

system  time killing everything-

mother nature’s oxygen

everything is nauseating

clock ticking, I better start creating.

they should write a book on how to be free when the system set us up to believe that we’re tied to the cut down trees that gives them a currency of greed that they breed.

If blindfolded, I don’t wanna eat what they feed.

Whilst they profit of us -tell us smile and the bandits don’t wanna see us happy.

they’re too busy robbing all our hoods.

In exchange for the silence, they’ve granted us with a 21’st century fashion garment of a slave muzzle! labelled conform.

More delusion to add to the already desensitised norm.

zootonic diseases, welcome covid 19 to your plastic kiddy tea party!- apologies for questioning your motive!

Been handed too many hot plates with a post it note saying HOLD THIS.

we’ll be okay just hush.

Same Shan message told to every generational seed.

If we don’t TRY overpower-

we’ll never succeed!

it’s getting even more scary.

Artificial intelligence.

Societal negligence..

my canvas isn’t clear-dunno am I schizo ?

finger painting, cos it makes more sense.

struggling to blend.

borderline conspiracist pretending to be fine;

moving the goal post, hovering above the race line.

who made the chalk? who set the lanes?

I wanna know it all, maybe¿ far past insane.

I can fit all I need in the palm of my hand,

Maybe even less! cut a finger off not sure it’ll even add stress.

hi from personality Peter, even sober- always away with the fairies.

Pass the pixie dust, I’m in a rush

Found shelter in the comfort of pan physicists timer, no not the one on your phone!

Ring ring, skeptical! is it my demon or my mommy on the phone?

I’m stuck in the airspace of an infinite glass filled with beach particles trying to form myself standing up still attempting not to slip through the hands of my very own discovery.

time is running out & ill go when I go.

I’m sitting inside the fly trap -

stardust, chakras can you feel the sensation colors like a starburst.

deep emotion is a curse.

still entrapped in the sand dune of nothingness-

flipping a domino monopoly of solidified thoughts as I sway with the wind.

I’m the trapped sandbox in the playground & the slipping sand in my own hands.

Inhale chronic but I wanna enter the quiet realm of white noise

-color of a wife beater vest, calmer than the ease in ignorance of a red neck.

sadomasochistic, messes.

but oblivion, seems like less stress.

Unfortunately I can see, with all eyes

empathetic paralysis, gets me vexed.

Punching truth into the core of your chest!

It’s not funny, neither is the one on the receiving end..

My limbs are numb

& im done playing octopus alchemy.

I want minimalism & life can be simple,

Evil entities have made it hard.

Maybe I’ve got stars above my head like an old cartoon character.

But I can’t make it make sense, are they out to get me. worse all of us? Or have I bottled myself tryna re mesh the broken shards,

I feel glued to the floor cos there’s a pretty price to pay if you want more.

I see life through a different lense, maybe born downside up, Benjamin button I came out the back door-

Outside looking in, digesting confusion.

Is to be a product of environment a sin?

rummage through my messy brain.

personalities sardine packed in this tin

I’m the wizard of my mania

Scaring & attracting the black crows-

they’re my friends.

Sometimes still a cowardly lion

Roaring pain & true riddles at the wrenching wicked witch posse of the west.

will my voice ever be loud enough to shed light wit my words and grate the sweet zest

In to the cake i’m baking?

Probably not.

Got more thoughts than the autumn leaves collected by the garden rake. alone.

gathering & storing the pains of yesterday.

sometimes I stay in line

Other times in my head Im on my hands juggling out of time.

but I really don’t mind if I lose or win.

we all have a pace

I jus don’t want the 1% to win the race.

It’s unfair!

Humanity does anyone care ??

Half lady

half fairy

Good  MOOrning-

from my anagrams.

no I’m not a cow.

twister fidget spinner brain in the flesh-

form of expression this time around lyrics.

feel I’m jus a silly rubix

& still mourning

I don’t like dairy

pass the oat milk.

Are you aware the industry are sabotaging our diets?

we want peace!

the powerful elite-

perceive & deceive

the scene they want us to be.

chuck the narcissistic psychopathic pie back in our face-

every time we almost found & addressed the Programme & Control man in the maze.

evil & extroverted- he said that the anarchists have to be the cause of riots.

working isn’t class. I said let’s switch roles- he said pass.

It’s piss! Who’s got the bomb & the guns?

Who got the land? off wit OUR heads 4 fun!

it’s pure scary.

Pharmaceutics handshake.

with the cooked up suppliers, also crooked wack liars.

I’d rather shot a gallon of bloody blubbery infused slaughter house milk

If it meant we didn’t use cocoons for silk.

why not add a drizzle of bleach to the concoction & maybe that’s a reach.

every time I guzzle fakeness, it taste peak.

I want real fruit, what next-

a seedless peach ???

what’s the difference between a weirdo & a freak?

layers & levels to the shit.

Magnifying tapping the window of society, I’ll be puffing green til I get to the land of Oz.

sponge soaked soaking up emotions

Suffocated by deduction of care in life

feel entrapped in this paradigm

what am I thinking ?

got the verbs & a cuppa tea

It’s mixed with torment & desire to be free.

I’d rather be awake than asleep

When I get too comfy I feel weak

Demons they reap

underneath

rip the seems as I bleed

Concrete

Solid

Emotions

Is all you’re getting

It’s all sad scenes in the imagery I’m setting

people need care we seem to be forgetting

why are we in debt wit

a posse of clowns

pay the price so we can get a frown

here’s some seratonin

quit ya moaning

life is all sound

aw yeh¿  if you’re not an over thinker!

product of environment- Sirius flickers

theyve done a ritual like it’s Wicca

now here’s your gold sticker..

for managing to co operate.

In this world fuelled off of evil n hate

waking ups a bloody disgrace

I am not amazed.

Man I love my fam n my friends

Just hate this part of my brain that feels the need to play pretend

sometimes I feel insane

but I’m calm

need to escape so I don’t do harm

Gold lioness in the sky by the sea

with puff the magic dragon

fire out my mouth, fuel helps me breathe

I will shine bright

Promise imma be alright

even tho I’m not sure why

I function like this

I wanna be myself

It’s just hard to find the comfortability

To feel happy and pretty

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Ring around sing about overdose emotions

Sorry dunno how to communicate

Heads in a constant debate

Should I go or should I stay

My head clashes

Burnin the next ciggy as my thoughts become ashes.