#hardness test non destructive

[thepersonperson]

Why the hell is JJK 270 called Dream's End?

JJK 270 being titled Dream’s End is so fudging ominous. That’s some Umineko type beat. I’m not sure if I should even judge this chapter as presented because of this. In fact, I'm holding off on posting the other analysis I had for today since I no longer am certain of what JJK 268–270 are.

There's two lines of thought I have:

1) Gege suffering from burnout and bad working conditions plus rushing has caused the writing to decline.

2) Gege still has a hidden ace saved for the final chapter and the weird writing is deliberate.

I'm going to humor Option 2, but only because the title of this chapter is called Dream's End.

(The most 'hear me out' discussion under the cut. Using TCB scans and leaks. Click images for captions/citations.)

[Small Update: Follow-up Discussion on why everyone feels OOC.]

Preface

"Without love it cannot be seen."

This is a phrase and philosophy I have borrowed from Umineko since I've started these JJK yapfests. It essentially boils down to 'discard your negative biases and try to examine things in good faith.'

JJK 268 & 269 have fudging tested that for me. I've been giving Gege and the characters a pretty hard time with the caveat of knowing how exploitative the manga industry is. I initially rejected the idea that these chapters were to be taken at anything other than face-value because of this. In fact, I cited the JJK 268 chapter title of Finale as a reason I've accepted things as is.

And with that same logic, I'm now doing the opposite... So hear me out! I've got some pretty good reasons to be doing this.

What's wrong with JJK 268–270?

There's a lot of things in these chapters that are fundamentally inconsistent with what's been established in throughout the manga. If we use Option 1 to explain these contradictions, these are last second retcons because Gege forgor.

Option 2? We're about to have the rug pulled the hell out from under us because the last 3 chapters have been delusions.

What first tipped me off to something possibly being wrong on purpose was the fate of the incarnated culling game players in JJK 270. Not too long ago it was established that the souls of non-sorcerers in vessels were unsavable.

The souls are suppressed in a way that distorts them permanently or their consciousness is outright destroyed. They were gambling on Megumi's survival due to him being a sorcerer and Sukuna's incarnation method being unique. 99% of them will die and those who survive will likely be vegetables, so why is there a sudden gamble on their survival in JJK 270?

It's such a neat and fine bow to tie this mess up that goes directly against existing lore. It's so ideal that it has me suspicious.

Brain damage from sorcery on non-sorcerers has been established as extremely taxing. I think about Gojo's Unlimited Void (UV) the most when it comes to this. Non-sorcerers were hit by it for 0.2 seconds and required medical intervention for 2 months to fully heal from it. Sukuna, the absolute strongest, tanked some of it and it affected him for the rest of the battle. ...And then we have Megumi who was under it for about 6 minutes and seems to have very little problems from it.

This is bizarre. Someone who underwent the month long bath and UV without Reverse Curse Technique (RCT) should be struggling to even stand after waking up. Sukuna had RCT and the Gojo brain damage still took him out. This screams of inconsistent writing unless...this is a deliberate hint that something is amiss.

I want to draw attention to the panel Megumi's UV damage is addressed. Just about everyone has been seemingly waiting around in the same spot for him to wake up. It's a bit weird given that sorcerers don't usually do that. They usually get a move on asap. And after the destruction of Shinjuku and the Culling Game Players still running about, why would they take a breather to discuss their plans that worked?

But that's not what started bothering me about that panel after reading JJK 270. It's that characters who aren't in the room, start appearing without warning. Look who is behind Maki and to the left. It's Kusakabe. And to her and Yuta's right? Inumaki. So why is it that Hakari, Kiara, and Ino are in Kusakabe's place while Todo spawns where Inumaki is? (And Yuta is facing the wrong direction too.)

That's pretty fudging weird right? You can chalk it up to Gege forgor but it doesn't stop there. Higuruma enters the discussion in a way that causes Yuji to pause.

Why is Yuji surprised to see him? (And where the fudge did he come from?) Shouldn't he know of his survival by now? And why is he in a cast? Higuruma had learned RCT and fully restored his arms before leaving the battlefield. If he's conscious, then he should be able to heal himself fully no problems.

And that got me thinking... Why is Yuji still missing his fingers?

It was established that he kept his fingers unhealed to help with Yuta's plan. This means that if he won, he has no need to keep them missing. Yuji has fully regenerated missing chunks of his face, including his eye, and stomach. He has RCT just like Higuruma. But it doesn't end there either. Yuji's number of fingers on his left hand keeps changing.

4 fingers, 3 fingers, dubious amount of fingers, 5 fingers. Once again, you can chalk it up to Gege forgor, but JJK 270 came out and the same problem started happening with Megumi's scars.

The same mistake is made within the same set of panels and very big page. That's weird.

ONCE AGAIN, you can chalk it up to Gege forgor, but when these errors occur, like with Yuta mistakenly having his ring on in JJK 251, Gege will note the mistake outright. Gege has made no such comments for Yuji's fingers or the scars. This many “errors” in row when Gege has otherwise been careful with these features could indicate it really is on purpose. (Kind of like Sukuna's everchanging mask. The thing was just moving around and pulsing. That was deliberate not inconsistency.)

What does this mean?

I think it means what we are seeing isn't reality. After all, the most common way to tell if you're dreaming is being unable to count the number of fingers on your hands. Another way to tell is the distortion of faces.

Readers have noticed that something is wrong. The weird timeskips, the lack of lasting consequences, design inconsistencies, characters behaving like similes of themselves, death and pain being glossed over like it's nothing. It all feels so off. But it's still close enough to the original to be somewhat believable. ...Is that not what it's like to dream and not know you are dreaming?

Why is it that the chapter titled Dream's End ends with the hunt for a curse user whose ability is to distort the perception of reality?

Dreams and Delusions in JJK

We already know Gege weaves Buddhist symbolism and ideas heavily into JJK. I'm not an expert in Buddhism at all, so there's a lot of it that goes over my head. I decided to look into if dreams are significant in Buddhism and boy howdy are they. Quoted directly from the source:

"Dreams can be a message from a Bodhisattva, an ancestor, or a god, The intent of the dream may be to test the dreamer’s resolve: is he non-retreating (avaivartika) from Bodhi (enlightenment) even when sleeping? The purpose of the dream visit may be to communicate information vital to the dreamer’s well-being. The Buddha himself had five dreams of catastrophes, falling stars and worlds in collision just before his enlightenment. The dreams were sent to him not by a benevolent Dharma-protector, but by an malevolent sorcerer, intent on disrupting the Buddha’s samadhi and preventing his awakening."

In summary, (correct me if I'm wrong) dreams appear to be seen as another state of being just as valuable and impermanent as reality.

There's also this other bit I'll quote directly.

"The most common use of dreams in the literature of the Mahayana, or “Northern School” of Buddhism in China, Tibet, Japan, Korea, and Vietnam is to see dreams as a simile for sunyata, (emptiness) the hollow core at the heart of all component dharmas (things). For example, in the well-known Vajra (Diamond) Sutra, the Buddha taught that:

“All conditioned dharmas, are like a dream, like an illusion, like a bubble, like a shadow, like a dewdrop, like a lightening flash; you should contemplate them thus.”"

That's starting to sound like what Yuji's Domain does, right? He projects memories that did happen and mixes them with delusions and dreams. Sukuna and Megumi both experience this in full.

It's incredibly suspicious that it hasn't been named yet. Yuji is the son of Kenjaku who has a domain based on the Womb Sutra/Realm...which is paired with the aforementioned Diamond Realm to encompass the entire Dharma. It's very likely this is what Yuji's domain is—a realm of dreams and reality combined as one.

Unreality Runs in the Family

When Sasaki Setsuko "wakes up" as the Culling Games begin, Kenjaku explains her situation with this:

What follows is a sequence that cannot be described as a dream. It seems to be a blend of reality and hallucinations. But that's not anything strange, Sukuna does it too with Kashimo in reverse.

As you can see, both the positions of the characters and even the backgrounds change suddenly from reality to ??? and from sequence to sequence. It's all incredibly dream like.

Another strange thing about this space is Kenjaku creating it as a part of an escape route Binding Vow. You know, the kind Sukuna uses for Malevolent Shrine.

What I want to draw attention to here is this reality-dream state somewhat requires consent (in the loosest possible definition) to appear. The person entering this state has to desire it themself. We see this with Jogo and Gojo who are mutually interested in having a relationship of somekind with Sukuna. (Same with Kashimo.)

(It's also very hard to tell if they are dead or still in the process of dying during this.)

This is where the delusions Yuji projects differ. They are forced onto others when he is near death or severely injured, seemingly as a defense mechanism.

And would you look at that...the syntax is identical for Todo and Choso's Brother Yuji Delusions. "At that moment, a memory was born inside X's brain...of a past event that never happened." It's kind of like how Yuji replaces Gojo in Megumi's memory to reach him. It's also very strange that Sukuna, Choso, and Jogo go "What is this?" to this in-between space.

My point here is that Yuji having access to this space has been hinted at since the start of this manga and that it was inherited it by blood. (Totally Not Kenjaku showing up with Takaba Mr. Reality Warping CT in JJK 270 supports my case too I think.)

What does this mean for JJK 268–270?

The battle ended in JJK 268. Of that I'm certain. What I no longer know is if anyone survived.

A common complaint about Sukuna's death is his lack of an afterlife scene. Everything ended so abruptly. And then Megumi wakes up.

It's so jarring in out of place. ...But that's how all scenes involving the space between dreams and reality begin. Sasaki Setsuko "wakes up" once and then again. Most of us have experienced those kind of dreams right? (They made a whole movie about it called Inception which is based on the movie Paprika.)

There's one other thing I need to draw attention to. Yuji's Domain shattered after Sukuna cast Domain Expansion (DE).

When a sorcerer withdraws their domain voluntarily, it does not shatter. Gojo has demonstrated this for us in quite clearly.

When a domain is broken by force, it will shatter and shards will scatter. When a domain is withdrawn, no shards are left behind. Yuta uses these facts as a part of his plan. In JJK 252, it's revealed by Kusakabe that Yuta shatters his own domain on purpose to trick Sukuna into thinking he won.

What this means is that some kind of violent action needs to be taken to shatter a domain. Yuji's domain is massive and his attacks only targeted Sukuna. What could've shattered his domain all at once? He's not had the time to practice shattering parts of it like Yuta.

Gojo has shown us what a uniform domain shattering looks like—it happens when Malevolent Shrine activates. (Please note that the sfx used for Sukuna breaking Gojo's domain is カシャア. It's the same one used for Yuji's domain shattering.)

I'm proposing that we've been in unreality since the end of JJK 266. Sukuna and Yuji are both severely injured, on the verge of death, and have a connection with each other. These are all conditions that trigger the space between dreams and reality.

And I must remind you that Yuji first triggers this event with Todo after a severe head injury. Right before Sukuna casts his domain, they do this to each other.

Everything that has come after has been perfect for Yuji to a unbelievable degree. Everyone whose death was uncertain is alive and the living are getting exactly what they wanted. The effort behind it and the logistics are all missing. And yes a rushed ending can explain that, but that too can be part of the ruse.

Another massive complaint is that mourning has not occurred. Not for Gojo or Choso despite how much Yuji cherished them. It's like they're being willfully forgotten by the cast despite being crucial to their success in Shinjuku. It feels out of character, especially since Yuji is of the few that showed concern for them no matter what.

But if this is a delusion on the brink of death designed to bring happiness, why would Yuji think of the dead? He's always been so avoidant with it. When his grandpa is dying and trying to talk about his parents, Yuji tells him to shut up. When Nanami dies, he thinks of him then and then never again directly leading up to his talk with Sukuna. When Megumi tries to discuss Nobara's fate, Yuji ends the conversation as quickly as possible.

The only people in this world are the ones who may or may not be dead. He saw Yuta in Gojo's corpse. The only way that can happen is if Gojo is dead. Yuji has no choice but to believe it. Choso burned away before his eyes. Yuji has no choice but to believe it. He went through some of Megumi's memories and saw Tsumiki's corpse. Yuji has no choice but to believe it.

And since Tsumiki is the only person Yuji wasn't close with, she's the only death that has been outright acknowledged. But not for too long! That would make Megumi sad.

Another complaint is that Sukuna really didn't kill anyone in the final battle outside of those two and Kashimo. The dudebros call it Disney Kaisen. But the fairytale-like idea that everyone is ok? Todo was the one who put that idea in Yuji's head.

And Yuji has always been one to fall to story-like logic when things look like they're finally wrapping up.

"And then everything will be just fine." (Yuji before the worst possible outcome for both him and Megumi happens.)

This is similar to the line Gakuganji uses in JJK 270. "Everything is fine." This line is the whole reason I sat down and wrote this all out without stopping. I know Gakuganji. He'd never say that. This man has been in a state of worry over Jujutsu Society since his first appearance. He doesn't even fully believe in Gojo's cause as someone who values tradition. He's a stickler for details and will do everything in his power to ensure stability. For him to toss Sukuna and Tengen's remains in a shrine and call it a day? Who is that? He's changed but not that much.

And so I compared the raws.

It is very much the same 大丈夫 (Daijoubu). These are Yuji's words.

What I'm proposing is that JJK 267–270 are Yuji's delusions of the happiest possible ending. It's a picture perfect little end where all the trauma and death has no effect on the living and people move on like nothing happened. I don't know if this means he's dead or if Megumi's dead or if they're all dead. But what I'm seeing now? I don't think it's real.

Reexamining JJK 269

CW: Brief discussion of suicide.

Even if this turns out to be a part of the smokescreen, I'm always going to hate JJK 269. But I do want to give it some grace under the assumption this chapter titled Examination (which can also be translated as Reflection) is about Yuji's guilt. Both him and Megumi's tbh. I think their feelings for each other and their situations are driving these delusions. That's one thing about this space that's real—the feelings behind them.

Yuji has a lot of guilt surrounding his existence after ingesting Sukuna, Megumi does too. Straight up Yuji has been seeking death over it since JJK 9.

He struggles to forgive himself for being the centerpiece to violence he had little to no control over. The only thing that upsets him more than that is knowing that his death will break Megumi's heart. He doesn't want Megumi to feel any guilt for it whatsoever.

The kicker is, Megumi already knows Yuji is planning to die. And he wants to do everything to rid him of that guilt. Up until they connect inside of Yuji's domain, they were unaware they shared the same goal for each other.

And that's what JJK 269 is. It's a very cold and harsh breakdown that allows them to forgive themselves. Blame is passed around and ultimately pinned on a combination of Gojo and Kenjaku. (It's really weird Sukuna isn't blamed either, but that's not the point of this for now.)

Kusakabe's comment is especially harsh. Telling Yuji point blank he should've died and that both sides on the issue were valid? He may have believed that to an extent, but he made a point of not telling it to his face. Why have a whole chapter discussing how kind he is only to turn around and do this?

If this is all a delusion, a manifestation of Yuji's guilt and trying to absolve himself of it for Megumi's sake, that makes sense. This version of Kusakabe is what Yuji feels guilt over the most—Everyone's lives being better if he died.

In the same breath Kusakabe tells them to solely blame the adults. It's very reminiscent of Nanami telling Yuji that being a child is not a sin.

It should also be noted that every single time Megumi tries to apologize for being possessed, he's stopped. Maki tears into Yuta without checking in on him, but she asks if Megumi is ok and tells him to not blame himself. JJK 270 is full of this too. He tries to apologize to Tsumiki at her grave and Shoko tells him not to sweat it. He tries to apologize to Hana and she hits on him instead.

This delusion is crafted out of love. It allows Megumi to live in a world where he can move on from the guilt surrounding his possession and saving Yuji. It's all Yuji has ever wanted for him. And now that Yuji knows Megumi wants him to forgive himself, he has no choice but to do that too.

It's a perfect ending for Megumi that's too good to be true.

It must be a dream...

There's another thing I can't reconcile about JJK 269 unless it's a delusion—Todo's explanation for Yuta's plan. It's another one of those glaring contradictions.

In JJK 269 Todo claims Boogie Woogie can't target Maki. But in JJK 259? Todo makes plans with Mei Mei knowing that it works with her.

Either Todo lied...or Yuji never fully knew the plan and that Boogie Woogie could target Maki. Otherwise she would be dead. Her surviving Sukuna's flames would be impossible.

I've already talked about how Yuji believing those who may or may not be dead are alive is Todo's doing. He's always been the one to save Yuji from his breakdowns. But let's talk about his speech in Shibuya.

"Looking for meaning or logic in death...can at times defile the memories of those we've lost!"

Everyone who has read these past 3 chapters has really felt the defiling of Gojo's memory. And it was all in service to a strange logic that helped them cope with all this death. Acknowledging how massive Gojo's sacrifice was would riddle both Yuji and Megumi with immense guilt, so it's best to ignore it for Megumi's sake. (And perhaps that's why Yuji replaces Gojo in that memory.)

"What have you been entrusted with? You don't need to answer right now. However... Until you find your answer, never stop moving."

In a way, JJK 269 is an answer to the question Todo proposed. Yuji was entrusted with saving Megumi. Saving Megumi requires Megumi and Yuji forgiving themselves. And Yuji won't stop moving until it's done. All these time jumps and rushed developments are Yuji moving Megumi forward. He's getting that happy ending even if it's to the detriment of everything else.

What about Sukuna?

When Sukuna respects his opponents and they have a connection, he gives others these dreams before they pass. He's been very impressed by Megumi since JJK 9. It's not out of the ballpark for him to allow Megumi to die satisfied in the way Gojo did. Yuji also seems to understand that Sukuna was manipulated by others just as much as he was. I think that's why Sukuna is spared of the blame for the most part.

I don't think Sukuna won. He's probably dead. But he did warn Yuji not to underestimate him. I think the worst absolute last fudge you to Yuji he could give is this happy ending dream before ripping it all away as he dies.

In Conclusion...

I'm not sure that we're going to get that happy ending. Reggie Star warned us not too long ago.

"...it all comes down to a sorcerer's lies."

Reggie is a lot like Sukuna here, outwitted by modern sorcerers and dying to someone he loathes. Sukuna is good at tricking people. He let Gojo think he won before tearing it all away. Yuta did the exact same thing to him. Or did he?

"Can you do me a favor? After all, you've killed me. Let fate toy with you, become a clown, then die."

If the last 3 chapters are delusions...Megumi will be playing the part of a clown.

Gege said the manga would end with either 1/4 or 3/4 of Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, and Gojo surviving. This of course, could be changed throughout its development, but Gege said the manga is ending in its original vision. There's a real chance that it's only Yuji or Nobara surviving.

Remember, Gege is a troll first and foremost. Somehow Gojo was revived, but in the worst way possible (Yujo). Somehow Gojo did tell Megumi about Toji, but in the worst way possible (dead man's final letter).

Gege also said this about the final chapter:

"I am working hard to create a final chapter that will (hopefully) satisfy as many people as possible who have supported Jujutsu Kaisen. So everyone, please bear with me!"

I can't think of a better way to appease everyone than by making the last 3 chapters nothing more than dream.

[setsugekka]

❥3:14am (m)

↳ Jisung waits for you to fall asleep, so that he can give and take freely.

han jisung x fem!reader — established relationship, explicit sexual content. [1k wc] cws: somnophilia!!, consensual non-consent!!, roleplay, masturbation (m), body cumshot/facial.

He hated to admit it, but it was the lack of compliance that really did it for him.

But the retelling of the act to you after the fact did it for you both.

"Come to bed, would you? I have work in the morning," you groaned into your empty side of the bed, nothing but a half glass of water and ear plugs on the nightstand. You had already taken the sleeping pills, after all.

"Yeah I'm coming!" Jisung chimes from the bathroom, whipping around the corner and shutting the light off in a haste before climbing into the cold sheets you two would be sharing.

"I love that we can do this," you say, turning to glance at him over your shoulder a bit, "ya know, share a bed without it being like, a sex thing."

He smiles, nodding in assurance. he loves it, too. Sort of for all of the wrong reasons.

Jisung doesn't have an alarm set for his plans, the anticipation keeps him up plenty already. He has a strategy, and every time he plays it out exactly the same way. Without fail. If he were really honest with himself, lying in bed next to you for two hours - thoughts racing through his mind of the fun yet to come - dick half erect for the entire duration, it was enough to reduce him to an insomniac as it was. He had a few rules, naturally, as anyone should when engaging in absolutely treacherous behaviors. Rule one, he never touches himself before beginning the scene, and rule two, don't wake her up. Rule two obviously being the most important of them, but he knew you had a way about you when woken up from your slumber and also there's the whole "lewd acts of non-consent" thing he's got going for him.

It starts as a whisper of your name, to which you never answer, of course. Followed by Jisung propping himself up on an elbow to lean over, gently, testing the drip and movement of the mattress and how disturbing it is to you. No response. This is when Jisung knows that it's time to play.

By now he's already hard, palming himself through the thin fabric of basketball shorts under the blanket that the both of you share, biting back heavy breaths as his eyes stare into the back of your sleeping head. He's hopeful that you will eventually turn to face him, but it's not necessary.

He can really only take a few moments of it before slipping his hand to touch his bare cock, fulling wrapping fingers around himself and pumping dully. Every time he does it, he thinks about how he knows how devastating getting caught would be, how friendship ruining, life ruining - absolute destruction and chaos. 

It makes his cock twitch in his hand, he can already feel heat pooling in his stomach.

Unfortunately, that is the tale of perversion - the more he shouldn't, the more gratifying it is to do it.

Jisung feels the dip in the mattress shift on his opposite side and freezes, hand still holding himself, watching the way the body next to him adjusts with intensity - he has to find out if his little game is over and if he'll have to run off to the bathroom to jerk himself off to an unsatisfactory finish into the toilet, but it looks promising when all the gesture results in is you lying on your back, still very much asleep, and much to Jisung's absolute pleasure - chest fully on display. Exposed. 

It takes him a moment before he feels comfortable enough with your act of slumber before he pulls his eyes away from your own and lets them trail down to your breasts, allowing his hand movement again but this time the pulls a bit more ragged and hungry than before. He can't touch. no touching, ever. but the looking that he most definitely is not privy to either is more than enough of a treat, along with the perfect visual of a fast asleep face next to his.

Normally, he likes to take his time. Tonight, is not going to be one of those nights he realizes as his breath picks up unusually quickly. Jisung finds he's way ahead of schedule, but the way heat is pooling and his muscles are tightening he knows he's not going to be able to last as long as he normally does.

Jisung quietly, carefully pulls himself up and off of the sweaty mattress, his tshirt clinging to his soaked back as he does so - kneeling with little distance and only slightly hunched over. He takes passing note of how thankful he is for the headboard, on which his hand now resides to hold his body weight. A cute, fleeting thought before his mind is once again clouded by perversion and desire - completely rewired in a way that rendered him almost unrecognizable as the Han Jisung that anyone knew him as. Hand gripped tightly around his hard length, pumping hard and fast at himself with bottom lip pulled between his teeth in an attempt to dull his whines - because he knows what waking you means for him - and it's that thought in and of itself that he loses himself to, unable to truly remain fully silent with a reluctant groan escaping between his bitten mouth as he pumps strands of cum onto your skin - across your breasts, catching on your mouth and chin, watching a small amount pool into the dip of your suprasternal notch before carefully climbing himself down and catching his breath.

He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, heart beating out of his chest and cock softening as he stuffs himself back into his pants. He inhales deeply, turning to reach off the bed and down below to a towel that he had already prepared for the nights activities.

Gingerly reaching forward, prudent fingers delicately caressing your skin as if afraid of disturbing you. Except that was the point.

"Hey," he whispers gently, nudging you on the shoulder and jostling you a bit in place before beginning to wipe his mess from you. It wakes you up tenderly, immediately remembering the circumstances of which that had been agreed and you smile at him with lazy eyes.

"Have fun?"

And Jisung simply smiles, wiping wetness from your chin, "I love you, tell you about it tomorrow."

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

[soulc-hilde]

01. The Crown

Pairing: Josh Fatu / Jey Uso x Ezmeralda Bey / Aries

Synopsis: Devoted to her craft and her family, WWE Superstar Ezmeralda has a library of accolades accomplished on her own and by the side of her family like never before. As she leads the Women's Revolution to glory, romance seems to find her at the most unexpected moment... in the ring.

Warning(s): SFW, OC is a black woman, swearing, WWE-canon violence, Non-scripted fights, body shaming, body insecurities, WWE's consistant misogyny is blatant until later chapters, etc.

Cross-posted: Wattpad

"Howdy, howdy, the name's Ezmeralda Bey a.k.a Aries. I am 1/3 of the tag team, the Three Sins with my twin older brothers – Ezra and Ezekiel, also known as Hubris and Nemesis. My career, unlike the other women of the roster, consists of me breaking down and conflicting havoc amongst both the men and women divisions."

"I've won the Intercontinental title, the tag team titles, the U.S title, the Divas, and even the WWE Championship title. To some, they don't like it because it's either I'm trying too hard to replace Chyna – who was one of my trainers by the way – or it's supposedly impossible for me as a 5'2, nearly 210-pound woman to take down a man. I find it hilarious because well, that's all I did growing up was fighting. Regardless your size, your age, your gender – you piss me off, I'm coming for you. As a matter of fact, all my siblings are like this." 

A split screen appears. On the left was a montage of all the Divas from the past and the present while on the right was a montage of Ezmeralda and her appearance both on and off camera. It made note that the woman fancied a darker, tomboy image rather than dresses and heels.

Her cloud of dark brown curls was always either pulled into a puff, braided, or let loose and constantly switched between matching the theme of her outfit and staying natural. Her makeup appearance was dark consisting of black lip liner and clear gloss combo paired with a smoky eye and exaggerated eyeliner.

When it came to her physical appearance, she was thicker than others as her little pudge happily poked out and thrived. Despite the obvious thickness of skin that surrounded her, she carried a balanced amount of muscle that took the spotlight whenever she flexed or had to toss someone on their head.

Although, she wasn't the most model-esque woman on the roster, she was a living example of destruction and beauty intertwined. And she'd be damned and if someone would try to make her feel insecure.

"I am a member of one of the royal WWE families known as the Woods-Bey family. Our family of wrestlers consists of so many blood relatives and even those who aren't blood, but they were trained by my family and adopted some of our moves. My mother, who hails from this family, is known as Titan and the former frenemy of Chyna whereas my father is known as Lycon." 

"I'm not gonna lie, because of my abilities as well as being in a faction with my brothers, I do get a lot more screen time than the regular Divas. I never had to kiss ass for it to happen or anything, but it's just my family legacy. That's my story, you know? My brothers and I are one of the top faces of the company."

Just days until Wrestlemania and no matter where Ezmeralda was to go, chaos seems to follow as Superstars and Divas race from one location to another while roadies unload equipment for testing and designers correct any mistakes before things get out of order. 

For someone new to the scene, they'd feel lost and overwhelmed, but for the Bey triplets, this was a part of their childhood. Their stomping grounds. 

Meeting with their friends in the hotel's gym, the triplets set out to search for them. As they enter, Jon and Josh instantly meet their eyes and wave them inside. As they step closer to the Fatu twins, a wild pairing of Trinity and Ariane come around the corner. Paying the girls no mind, Ezmeralda takes her turn at greeting the boys. Her and Josh nestled in each other's arms. 

"I'm not the most social person in the world, I'm really big on protecting my peace whereas my brothers do all the talking and so forth. However, if I could count how many of my co-workers are my personal friends, it'd take just about four fingers – and that's not including my brothers."

"The Fatu twins and I go back to their FCW days where my brothers and I were their mentors. Jon is like the extra brother, I didn't need, whereas Josh is a bit complicated."

"How you doin' mama?" Josh asks as the two take a set of treadmills right beside each other. 

Ezmeralda shrugs, "not too bad. I'm a bit nervous for Wrestlemania, the boys and I have been going over our intro and outfits for days now." 

He raises his eyebrows with interest, "ooh, do tell me more." She giggles, shaking her head, "no, sir. It's a surprise, I can't be blowing the surprise out the water and all." 

"Since we headin' your family's way for it, you thinking about inviting them?" 

She clicks her tongue in thought, "I mean, I personally don't try and force them to come unless it's something really pivotal in like the storyline or a title match, but you know them – they hard headed as hell, can't tell them fools nothin'."

He kisses his teeth, gently smacking her on the arm. "Girl, you gone stop talkin' about my mama." 

She pauses, eyes widen in disbelief, "about your who now? Cause I ain't mention not a word about Mama T." 

He side eyes her, "you heard what I said. Mama Kala ain't hard headed nor is she a fool."

"She my mama, not yours." He scoffs, "man, not yet. Just you wait cause when I snatch you up and put a ring on it, she gone be my mama, too. Which makes me her spy." 

Ezmeralda stops the treadmill mid-walk, allowing herself to comically slide backwards. "Her spy!? Ah, gotta blast." 

She jumps off, running around the gym. Josh laughs, chasing her through the gym while Jon and her brothers watch with knowing smiles. 

"Since Josh and I became friends, him and his bad ass older brother have always called my parents Mama Kala and Papa E whereas my brothers and I have called their parents, Mama T and Papa Sol. However, for the past year or two when this tension between Josh and I developed, he's been adding on things like how he's gonna marry me this or I'm his lady and he's my man that or whatever." 

She tries to shrug off the obvious effect his affections had on her.

"I wouldn't mind allowing Mr. Fatu to take me on a lil' date and impress me; however, at the same time, I don't want that interfering with work. Like, I can and will be going head-to-head with him and his brother. Our characters have this rivalry going on where really, it's just this unforeseen chemistry we all have with each other. Besides, I'm not good at being vulnerable and letting myself be open – I've always been that way. Why you think I'm 31 and single?"

WrestleMania

"Y'all it's Wrestlemania and it's the Deadliest of 'em all, the Three Sins versus The Shield, let's go baby!" She screams, clapping her hands.

The triplets dress in green and black colored outfits. Ezekiel and Ezra wear their pair of wrestling pants designed with asymmetrical patterns and evergreen colored wrestling shoes. 

Ezmeralda wears a dual-colored glitter bralette with straps wrapping around her torso and a pair of matching two-toned shorts with fishnets and matching kneepads with evergreen custom sneakers. They walk for the Guerilla, prepared for their match against The Shield.

They stay behind the curtain as the first notes of 'Animal I've Become' by Three Days Grace plays as the pre-chorus hits, they walk out as their green pyro goes off as the crowd roars with excitement, self-made posters sailing through the stadium of over 70,000 fans. This was their moment and Ezmeralda's step closer to a Woman's Revolution, creating history like no other. 

The six-man tag match starts off with Ezmeralda and her friend and former protege, Joseph, as the two powerhouses go back and forth, tossing each other around. Minutes pass with a series of tags, pin breakups, and kickouts as all six bodies lay draped from the ring to the apron. 

The crowd went as far as doing a 'This is Awesome' chant as Ezmeralda and Joe kept exchanging spears and Samoan drops. After a while, it was time for the match to end as Jonathan pins Ezekiel while Ezmeralda and Ezra lay wasted ring-side.

"It's Wrestlemania, baby!" Ezmeralda cheers in the palms of her hands.

[janeelyakiri]

Someone needs to stop my brain-

Meet Chimera~

More under cut (Warnings- Body Horror, Drug Use)

Chimera is the result of a botched Lust AU, the monsters after mere weeks started to melt and mix, and eventually they all became one Amalgamate- Chimera. He was determined to get everyone together, the only way to feel whole.

He used Frisk as a way to coax out Flowey and absorb him, finalizing the end of his AU by taking Frisk's soul.

With testing, he finds he can make a drug with his magic and Determination- Euphoria. It sends monsters into such a state of joy they go catatonic, allowing him to eat non-lust monsters.

A poor AU hopper learned this the hard way, and the monster's knowledge allowed for Chimera to escape his empty AU.

Notes:

-Chimera can only absorb monsters injected with his drug

-To make Euphoria he has to use his magic and DT or Determination. DT gives him 5 doses, a Red Soul gives him 10. To restock his magic he must consume monsters.

-Other soul types are safe from his grasp, though he will flirt.

-He uses any tactic he can to lower someone's defenses.

-As an amalgamate, he can't die or be harmed by magic or physical attacks. But he plays on the same rules as The Thing- extreme fire can destroy him, extreme cold can contain him.

-Like The Thing, if a speck of him escapes destruction it can regrow him.

-He can change into other monsters he's absorbed. He retains their memories and mannerisms.

-There's so many voices and so many screams-

-Deity Level Monsters are safe from him, he avoids them and avoids causing too much trouble in singular aus so he doesn't summon them.

-His song is 100000% Toxic Love and his voice is Tim Curry

[sanct-dream-reality]

 The Hunters

    Hunters are individuals who are sent by SANCT to fight against The miasma spawn wherever they should appear. They are trained at a young age to use their supernatural abilities by the facility to both control their abilities as well as to combat against the Miasma, giving them a massive advantage over standard law enforcement when Spawn appear.

    These hunters were individuals taken during infancy or early childhood, identified for possessing abilities that manifested in batches across the globe almost simultaneously. After being taken in, they undergo extensive training and are subsequently assigned Categories. The Category system, used by SANCT, ranks hunters from 1 to 4 based on the strength and versatility of their abilities. Each hunter's abilities are assessed through a comprehensive exam, consisting of a written component and a practical evaluation, the latter being more critical. During the practical exam, the individual undergoes eight fitness tests designed to appraise their supernatural capabilities.

Once appraised, a Hunter is given their Category and the perks allowed to them when presented with that designation. 

Categories

   Category 1 - These Hunters seem to hold no supernatural ability of their own but do possess enhanced physical abilities such as super strength, speed, stamina, agility, and constitution. They are given SANCT weapons that reflect this and usually hold no individuality, i.e. a simple sword or gun. These weapons do, however, hold a large amount of ‘Sword Material' used in their construction. Category 1 Hunters have it hard and are just as rare as Category 4s as they are often disallowed more dangerous hunts, thus reducing the frequency of jobs, and consequently, payment. This, in combination with their lack of abilities and higher Sword-material count, tends to put them at odds with other hunters in the facilities. They often also need to endure more intensive training to compensate for their lack of abilities among their peers.    (Examples include: Creepen)

   Category 2 - These Hunter’s supernatural abilities often prove too negligible for combat or hold some non-combative significance. Because of this, they are often designated with complimentary or supportive roles. It is here that Hunters begin to be given weapons more suited for their skill sets, though not nearly as uniquely tailored as higher category hunters. This is based on their performance during their physical exams and the type of training they were assigned to. Category 2 hunters are the most common of any individual batch of new kids brought to a SANCT facility.    (Examples include: Val, Kiera)

    Category 3 - These Hunters are a perfect baseline of what a Hunter in SANCT should look like: perfectly balanced in physical and mental prowess, as well as supernatural abilities. Category 3s, while not as unbelievably powerful as a Category 4, possess significant abilities and are given SANCT weapons that better aid those abilities. Hunters in this category often find the most success with their hunt and the most work of the three other Categories, because of this they are often much wealthier than your average hunter. This even speaking for category 4s.  (Examples include: Atlas, Zato, Silver Spade)

    Category 4 - These Hunters have displayed unparalleled supernatural abilities and feats of strength equivalent to that of weapons of masse destruction. Their abilities are highly effective in and out of combat and can, without the aid of a SANCT weapon, debilitate any Category 3 and lower monster. Category 4s are few and far between, but those who are designated this Category are often bastions of their facility, and when presented with a SANCT weapon, said weapon is specialized and carefully crafted to make the most of that hunter's abilities, often times even amplifying them. These weapons are completely one of a kind and utterly irreplaceable. The importance of Category-4 hunters can't be overstated for their home facilities, and because of this most want for nothing as they are usually given most of what they could ever desire by their facility.    (Examples include: Milky)

[old-school-butch]

I’m confused as to why so many people on Tumblr (and elsewhere) see this as situation where you have to pick a side. It’s possible to think that two groups are both doing bad things to innocent people, to varying degrees at various times. The people losing in this conflict are the civilians of *both* countries who are at the whims of their governments and bear the brunt of the poor (and sometimes horrific) decisions made by those governments. This “Good Guys” versus “Bad Guys” mentality is not sufficient for a conflict as long and complicated as this one and, again, the people who will suffer from that mentality are the civilians they claim to be standing up for.

Maybe the reason I like history is that if you follow a story for long enough it gets very hard to define anything that happens as 100% good or bad. The reasons for a war, how a war is fought and how a peace is made can all be - independently - better or worse.

This war is being fought because Hamas took hostages. A lot of hostages. Too many to ignore. And that was a strategically good for them because it gave Israel no options, just dilemmas. But for everyone chanting for a ceasefire, they need to remember that this war didn't need to start, and could be stopped, at any moment by returning those hostages. All this terrible, pointless death is on Hamas' hands. Israel's best hope at this point is to truly root out Hamas, but even then finding peace will be a difficult task.

But that's the proximate cause for the war. There are also bigger wars being fought.

Islamists form the majority of the world's extremists right now. I can name a dozen major Islamist movements happening, and this war unlocked a huge victory in their PR strategy that works better on the Western audience than live beheadings. As long as you make white people feel bad about colonialism, and say the rights words like 'liberate' and 'decolonize', you will be able to manipulate millions of useful idiots to make apologizes on your behalf and support your naked grab for power. Hamas invaded Israel 3 times in the last 8 years, but only now got the attention it craves to stay relevant in the 21st century. I hope everyone really enjoys watching mass murder, suicide bombings and terrorist tactics, because there's plenty more where that comes from and now they know the right words to say to appease you while they do it. Prepare to be amazed just how many ground invasions, property seizures and destruction, kidnappings, mass murders and violent suppressionare actshually acts of liberation resistance that empower freedom-loving indigenous people to resist neocolonial oppression - even if not a shred of that is believable. I'm serious. This is one of those times when peace ceasefire movements are actually creating the perfect conditions for everlasting war.

This is also a non-nuclear nuclear war. The U.S. doesn't normally announce where they have sent its nuclear submarines but it notified the world that it sent 4 of them to the Red Sea in November. It's part of deterrence to have these beasts in undisclosed locations and able to quickly response to any attacks. Move them close and the response in even quicker - a clear message. Eliminating the advantage of a surprise attack really is important in holding off nuclear war because of mutually assured destruction (MAD). One problem with MAD is that it assumes that the attacking party don't want to die which... if you watch even a little jihadist propaganda you might get worried about how the death cult vibes undercut that deterrence. Now... as unmanned rockets get better and smarter and faster without those pesky human pilots, it's raising concerns about whether countries like Iran can develop its nuclear capability. Even if they can build a warhead, delivering it to its destination has always been a limiting factor, this is why the US dropped them from planes in WW2. In this war, Iran is (getting the Houthis as their proxy) testing out their latest weapon developments. The Houthis/Iran tried to attack Israel with a ballistic missile (it didn't have a nuclear warhead but is the kind of missile that could be equipped with one), which prompted Israel to test drive their brand new and unproven missile defence system called Arrow. It shot the Iranian missile out of the sky. This is huge. I can't stress this enough - technically speaking, humanity's first space battle has just been fought and Israel won. This is what Reagan's 'Star Wars' program was all about - essentially stopping a bullet by shooting it with another bullet. Because this favors defence (if your surprise attack might not penetrate the defenses but you still find yourself on the receiving end of a nuclear counter attack - you are less likely to want to strike) much more thoroughly than mere mutually assured destruction. It means an attacker will face the risk of being turned into carbon while their enemy yet survives - not easy for even the most dedicated fanatic to swallow.

On top of that, Israel has also developed a laser beam - as yet untested in this conflict - that could potentially address the ammunition supply and reloading problems that plague air defense systems. To overwhelm Israel's Iron Dome on Oct 7, Hamas fired 3,000 rockets in about 20 minutes. There are simply limitations to how quickly a defence system can target, fire and reload a physical rocket, plus they are disproportionately expensive compared to the homemade rockets that Hamas fires (that didn't cost anything except redirecting international aid that was supposed to be for water pipes and fertilizer, because civilians dying of thirst and hunger doesn't appear to be an issue for Hamas). A laser beam will speed everything up immensely. You see, when the Soviet Union fractured and collapsed, about a million Jews fled to Israel and since Jews are very experienced with the fleeing-the-country routine, they brought with them the greatest of riches - knowledge. Those Jewish scientists and engineers brought the electronic warfare and rocket development capabilities of the Soviets into the development pipeline of western military doctrine. This is a good, good thing not just for the West but for everyone. The war in Ukraine was demonstrating that lifting the fog of war was absolutely deadly - good communication platforms like drones means that targets well behind the front line are in view and within reach of missile and drone attacks. The only way, it seemed, to win a war was a surprise attack because once the defence was mobilized, any ground assault would be pinned down to a stalemate on the battlefield. Effective air defence turns the tables on the effectiveness of that first strike advantage. The odds of human survival have possibly extended beyond my lifetime again, and I'm grateful for that.

This is also a global local war. We've seen interest in the Russia-Ukraine war ebb away as a younger, hotter war emerges. But what about a war between Venezuela and Guayana? If the US gets involved in one, two, is that three different conflicts... can it cope with that? How are Taiwan's defenses going to hold with 1/3 or 1/4 of American military support? Israel doesn't need help of the U.S. to win this conventional war, although the U.S. could potentially help create a winnable peace to follow this, but Iran and its allies would love to drag the U.S. more directly into the conflict. So far, it's resisted.

But I don't know how this conflict evolves, that part of the story is not yet written. I pray for more good, and less bad, to come and hope peace can be found in time.

[lostlimerence]

Promise

Cw: allusions to past SA, past abuse, Billy’s low self-esteem/self-worth issues, homophobic slur

“Where are you going?”

Billy grabs his car keys, looping them once around his finger as he turns towards Jim. He’s dressed in the tightest white tank Jim thinks he’s ever seen, a thick chain hangs around his neck and his legs are clad in black leather pants that might as well be spray painted on.

His face is defiant as he raises an eyebrow and says “out,” with a little cock of his head, a self-satisfied grin appearing at his lips.

In for one and out for two, Jim thinks, whilst willing his non-existent gods to give him strength, “yeah no shit kid, you know I mean a location.”

Billy looks like he’s weighing up whether to tell the truth or not, and Jim thinks he’s got a pretty good handle on him because he swears he can pinpoint the exact moment the kid decides to lie.

Grin fading, Billy says as casually as ever “just to a gig with Harrington and Munson,” a lie that rolls perfectly off his tongue. Jim hates how well the kid has had to learn to master the skill and if Jim hadn’t started to become accustomed to calling him out on it then he’s sure this would’ve been the end of the conversation.

But being the parent of one of Hawkins’s resident monster battling squad meant not only did he have his newly developed Billy intuition but he also had the ‘squad schedule’ memorised and he knows that tonight is some big Dnr? DD? Dnd? Tournament which means there’s no way Munson is anywhere other than at Steve’s house, and if the kids are at Steve’s there’s also no way he isn’t there too, the ever-present, ever-diligent, affectionately labelled babysitter.

So Jim tries, as ever, to tread carefully when he says “I think you might be a little mixed up there kid, I know for a fact they’re both at Harringtons tonight. Where are you going?”

The reply is immediate,“why the fuck do you want to know old man!?” it’s the reaction he’s expecting, and Jim knows this is gonna get messy cause when Billy gets defensive he also gets mean.

Jim goes to respond but Billy cuts in first with a sneer “oh, I know you like what you see don’t you? Fifty bucks officer and I’ll give you a blowie,” his voice drops suggestively as he trails off, opening his mouth a little, tongue tracing his lower lip in an obscene display. Jim’s gut clenches, performs a sickening twist, unfortunately he’s getting used to this pattern, this zero to one hundred, so he’s used to reminding himself, don’t rise to it remember, he’s just a scared boy with his back up.

In for one and out for two, his exhale is hard “you know that’s not, and never will be the case kid, I just want to know you’re gonna be safe,” Billy’s hand tightens hard around his keys at the word safe and Jim knows he still finds this comprehension hard. This idea that people care for him, that no one wants anything from him in return and it’s heartbreaking to see him test this safety in his own destructive way. He tests Jim the most, which with his history Jim gets because on paper he’s all of Billy’s abusers rolled into one horrifying monster, and that’s why he’s so patient with the kid, hell he’s more patient with him than he has been with anyone in his life, El included.

Billy seems to give a little, accepting that Jim hadn’t taken the bait, and raised the confrontation into some sort of screaming match. His eyes flick briefly to meet Jim’s before confidently stating “the Crown,” unconsciously squaring his stance, anticipating the reaction the name would get.

Jim can’t help the protective, automatic, loud “No,” that leaves his mouth, it brings Billy’s sneer right back “what you can’t handle me being a fag?” he growls “you know that’s not why Billy!” Jim says firmly, he’s getting louder, he knows he should tone it down, but the panic rising in his body is pushing itself into his voice, “the youngest people there are my age Billy and you know a few people have been vanishing in that area, I’ve told you about it!” he slaps his hand to his chest, partially to emphasise his point, partially to try and temper the panic punching his heart.

“Yeah and I’ll be fine, I can fight real well old man and I can fuck whoever I want!” he spits fight and fuck like they’re the same goddamn thing, and Jim doesn’t want to think about how interlinked the two acts may be when it comes to the kids past, but what he can blatantly see right now is that Billy is looking to hurt, not anyone else, just himself. The kid’s vibrating with something, desperately trying to hold himself steady.

Jim’s voice is cracking with a little anger now “Billy you’re not going,” he stands firm, doesn’t step towards the kid but doesn’t step back either. Billy looks ready to break, and Jim knows this can’t really be about going to the Crown because if he’d really wanted to he’d have turned his back and ran to the car by now, Jim isn’t that quick and Billy knows it. He sighs looks the kid dead in the eye and just says “Billy what’s going on here? What are we doing?”

Billy is knocked by the question, he looks devastatingly confused, his brow is furrowed and there’s a sheen to his eyes that suggests he really doesn’t know why he’s pushing like this. Jim watches him struggle for an answer, “I don’t know, it’s just…I don’t understand, I can’t, I know you won’t hit me, but it’s almost like…” he takes a breath “it’s almost like I want you to, like I’m waiting for something that will never happen and it’s just I dunno, the waiting is just building all up inside me, and it’s not going anywhere and I feel so…” his voice is cracking and tears are tracking his cheeks, Jim holds up a hand, doesn’t want the kid to have to keep pushing, he thinks he gets it.

“When I was in the prison,” Billy gasps at this, Jim isn’t surprised, he rarely shares these parts of himself, but the kid has shown him such raw emotion, such vulnerability that he feels he can share just a bit. He starts up again “When I was in the prison, and the anger built up, anger at the monotony, the pain, the loss, at everything. I would work myself so hard, to complete exhaustion, and that helped me sometimes.”

Billy looks a little bemused, but the tears have stopped “so I should what, break rocks when I feel like this?” Jim chuckles “nah, I’m not gonna get you to go break rocks kid, why don’t we go on a run? Go change, I will too and we’ll try and shake that feeling you’ve got off ok?” Billy nods, placing the keys back on the counter, bending to unlace his black boots, “And this isn’t a fix Billy we need to figure something proper out, let me think on it but let’s just see if we can help you short term, see if it makes you feel any better right now.”

Jim’s heart rate is coming down as Billy moves to remove his other boot, but he can’t stop himself saying “and Billy, please, please promise me you won’t go to the Crown, you know, you know why I didn’t want you to, don’t want you to go.”

Billy nods again “yeah Hop, I know,” and he sounds exhausted already, Jim thinks maybe the run won’t be so long. He feels such a strong need for reassurance, for confirmation that this kid, who’s wriggled past his defences and taken up another little section of his heart, will not go and put himself in danger that he pushes one last time “Billy, look at me please,” and Billy does, his still watery blues locking onto him “promise?”

Billy nods “promise.”

[aliteral-ghost]

This is the piece I did for @thewildsalem for @mcyt-halloween! I hope you enjoy it!

It's Zedaph-centric and not terribly spooky although I did try my best. I was really inspired by the amount of skulk used to build Decked Out, the idea that it feeds on deaths, and the fact that there have been a lot of deaths in the dungeon already. Happy halloween!

~~~~~~~~~~

It starts as an average Decked Out run, after a long day of trying to die. It’s been on and off all day, especially since every Hermit and their mother has been running non-stop, which is hard on the system, but there had been five runs before Zedaph’s, so he figures it’ll work alright.

He makes it to level 2 just fine, nearly getting clipped by three ravagers on the way down but making it past them by the skin of his teeth. Even the artifact collection goes easy enough, since it’s just an early compass spot in the mushroom hallway. It’s coming back that’s the problem. 

The stairs up are no longer just the typical dark gray of deepslate, instead speckled with veins of a dark teal. The skulk lining the walls has somehow managed to leak into the stone of the floor, infiltrating every pore and open space in the rock. Every step Zed takes sinks a little more into the floor, and on the final step up nearly caves in on itself, so much so that he has to crawl out of the small sinkhole that’s been created. 

As he does, a tendril of skulk catches on his hoof, nearly pulling him back down the stairs. Zedaph manages to shake it off and climbs to his feet again, not bothering to look at the destruction that’s been caused.

“Tango, whatever just happened was not my fault,” he says, knowing there’s a good chance his friend is able to hear. “Your dang dungeon is defective.”

Zed slides through the door to his left, not wanting to bother with the ravagers he left in the crypt, and comes to an abrupt halt when he sees the crevasse before him. It too is crawling with skulk tendrils, wrapping around a loose key that had somehow managed to slip down into the ravine and slithering up the sides. 

When it reaches the top, it spits the key off to the side and slowly continues to build up until it’s taller than Zedaph, teetering precariously above the edge. The ice at the top of the ravine begins to crumble, opening the pit more and more. He jumps over it before it can get any bigger and force him to go another way, scrambling into the passageway on the far side of the room, snatching the key as he goes. It won’t do him much good, really, but it’s a sense of security that’s really, really needed right now. 

The skulk turns to watch him, almost, and making a horrid moaning noise stretches towards him. Zed winces and, almost on instinct, throws the key directly at the mass. He’s not expecting it to connect, the opposite, really (Zed has never been good at the sporty stuff), but the key slides cleanly through the skulk, cutting it in half.  

He watches in a mixture of fascination and horror as the skulk pillar begins to right itself again. “Interesting,” Zedaph mutters, hovering in one place despite everything in his body saying to move.  “It almost seems alive.”

If he were home–if he had his equipment–he would be taking notes, but right now he’s terrified. Tango said that the skulk was safe to be around, he said it was stable, and Zedaph had said it needed more testing. It was less because of safety, of course, and more along the lines of Zed wanting to know how it works, but the point still stands. 

And it’s coming back to bite him in the butt now, as the towering figure of skulk begins to slowly crawl forward into the hallway Zed has just run through. Whatever mechanism that the skulk is using to move spreads it throughout the room, building tiny pillars in its wake.

There’s not much time, Zedaph realizes, as his heartbeat grows louder and louder in his ears, faster and faster. That’s the only sound he can hear, which is concerning, because there should have been at least one Stumble card played by now. He scrambles down a side corridor, hoping that maybe it’ll be out of the way enough to break line of sight. In his panic, Zed trips on a block of ice slightly raised up from the floor, and sprawls out on the ground, limbs splayed.

He hears the squelching from behind him and scrabbles to get up, hands and hooves slipping against the blue ice. It only serves to make him slip more, and he falls again, this time hitting his chin and splitting it open. The blood dripping down on the ice slowly congeals into tiny brownish ice spines, which is then swallowed by specks of skulk sneaking in from below. 

Zed finally scrambles to his feet then, wiping the blood off and sprinting through the passage on the far side of the room. He desperately tries to ignore the suspiciously ravager-shaped mound of skulk around the first corner, and then the reflection of it around the next. 

Until finally, finally, he sees the exit. It’s always a massive relief to see, but this time it feels like a wave washing over him. He’ll get out, get his embers, and be outside. And maybe he won’t play Decked Out for a few days after this. 

The pressure plates aren’t working. The pressure plates aren’t working and the door isn’t opening. “Drat,” Zed mutters. “Uh… Tango? You there?” 

He’s trying to keep the fear out of his voice as the mound of skulk continues to make its rather slow, anticlimactic crawl towards him. Even if this is something no one will see, it’s still a little embarrassing to think about. 

It crawls closer and closer, still making that moaning, screaming noise, the echoes from the ice only serving to amplify it. Zedaph pushes himself back, pressing more and more against the door, slamming his hands on the pressure plates, only to realize that the doors are made of skulk too. He’s surrounded. 

The skulk crawls over his shoulders, wrapping loops around his arms, as the mass gets closer and closer, sending tendrils up his legs. Zed braces for the inevitable engulfing, but it never comes. Instead the door finally opens up and he tumbles head-first down into the powdered snow at the bottom of the chute. The tower of skulk doesn’t come with him, seemingly having lost interest. 

There’s no one waiting to go in when Zed finally dies to nothing and makes his way out again. In fact, aside from the odd creak and groan of the building, it’s dead silent. He shivers, suddenly much colder than normal, and messages Tango that his game is broken. Tango responds with a series of particularly angry emojis, and then a singular smiley face. The last one was for you, he sends after.

Zed tries to go about his day like normal after that. He tries to forget, tries to ignore the phantom tendrils still crawling up and down his arms. Yeah, that’s enough Decked Out for the week. The month, even.

[neonbrutalism]

Spider-Gabe write up...

Mostly for ref since I don't think I'll ever be writing a whole fic of this.

So the first year of Spider-Man is going great for Gabriel. He has a difficult relationship with his mother and his brother, Miguel, is weird and distant since he started working at Alchemax as the head of the bio-engineering genetics lab. However, after spending the last 12 months running circles around Alchemax and the Public Eye, somebody new is put in charge of catching Spider-Man - Dr. Miguel O'Hara, under the orders of Tyler Stone.

Miguel, being much smarter than most of the morons at Alchemax who were trying to catch Spider-Man gets a lot closer, but ultimately keeps getting foiled and occasionally humiliated by Spider-Man. His brother, Gabriel, keeps trying to talk him into leaving Alchemax and lecturing him about it, which doesn't really convince Miguel so much as annoy him and further drive a wedge between them.

And Spider-Man is even more annoying and all the quips and jokes from this Creamsicle-Suit Asshole are started to make Miguel kinda twitchy and lose sleep from the stress - After enough failures, the board gives Miguel an ultimatum to "motivate" him - either you catch Spider-Man or we're turning YOU over to the genetic experiments team as a test subject, because if you're not useful to us like this, you'll be useful in another way. So his options are "catch Spider-Man" or "Become a brainwashed mutate thrall to Alchemax" or "Get turned into a pile of goo if the mutation experiment fails".

And so, with his life on the line and having nothing else left because he's not talking to his brother and his fiancee left him over his increasing obsession with catching Spider-Man, Miguel becomes even more erratic and violent in his methods to catch Spider-Man finally culminating in some incident that leads to the destruction of somewhere downtown.

When he's dragged before the Alchemax board, even Tyler Stone can't talk them out of the punishment and they let Aaron Delgado and his goons drag Miguel away.

Then blah blah lab explosion, talons, fangs, red eyes, you know. Miguel jumps from the building and doesn't catch himself. He has lost everything, his family, his livelihood and his basic humanity.

Gabriel takes it hard. He blames himself for not being able to save his brother, for not being able to talk him into leaving Alchemax, for not telling him that he was Spider-Man and for taunting and humiliating Miguel for fun every step of the way, because it definitely didn't help his sanity.

Gabriel has no idea his brother survived.

Miguel awakens downtown, disgusted to have awaken as a monster. He stumbles around downtown and, finally being confronted with what Alchemax has done to the people here and the consequences of his own actions, he stays to wreak havoc on Alchemax and drive their presence out of Downtown entirely. They wanted a Corporate Raider? Well they fucking got one.

Gabriel never really recovers from losing his brother. He inherits Miguel's apartment and LYLA, since Miguel was in good enough standing as an employee at the time of his "death" to be able to will his living space to a non-Alchemax employee.

With LYLA, Gabriel builds a device to allow multiversal travel. At some point, he finds a universe where he CAN save Miguel - he finds that this universe's Gabriel died some time ago and so, (explaining the situation with some wild lie) stays with him and his daughter and it's all great. Until it isn't.

He couldn't save his brother.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

A man who allegedly conducted crane safety inspections in Waterloo Region while posing as a licenced engineer is facing hundreds of charges, according to the body which governs professional engineers in Ontario.

The Professional Engineers Ontario (PEO) say they laid 352 charges against Jay Lawrence Harding on Monday for using a forged seal and the title of a licensed professional engineer.

A release from the PEO says that Harding is alleged to have conducted “at least 80 “inspections” and “non-destructive tests” of cranes and lifting devices in the Region of Waterloo in 2021.”

The release notes that he conducted the tests under the name AJ Hoist Inspections, a name which he incorporated after moving to New Brunswick in 2022.

“PEO believes that Mr. Harding may have falsely represented himself as a professional engineer in respect of crane and lifting device inspections for other entities, posing a broader risk to public safety,” it went on to say. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[nde12]

[omegaremix]

September 15 & 16, 2022.

Cold Waves X. It was a four-month wait from purchase to admission. I owed it to myself to go because goddamn it I’m a fucking industrialist. How should I even miss an opportunity to go to Brooklyn’s Warsaw and be around my type of people that are almost non-existent on Long Island? Plus, Paul Barker, Chris Connelly, and Front 242 would be there. It would be the third and final show of the year I’d attend, capping off a amazing run that started with Boy Harsher in April and continued with Sacred Bones 15th Anniversary (May).

Never had I traveled to New York City on back-to-back days. But the money spent on tickets and round-trip train fare was doubly worth it. I was met with two almost-perfect days of blue skies, white clouds, and nice leveled temperatures. Two days of driving westward on the Long Island Expressway, down Sagtikos Parkway, through Southern State to Rt. 231, and heading south to Rt. 27A to the Babylon stop to Penn Station with alphabet and number lines back and forth to boot, followed by breezy night drives down 27A and Sunrise Highway / Rt. 27 at 3AM. A sense of perfect pitch-black quiet and normalcy waited at the end as a response to two days of unforgettable acts.

No journey to Brooklyn and back wasn’t without being drenched in heavy sweat traversing through subway lines, race-walking on the broken concrete, and standing in one spot for five hours. I’d meet an older gentleman in his Seventies who, like me on Friday’s half, wore a Killing Joke shirt. His debut album to my “Turn To Red”. I’d meet some pretty interesting characters at the stations including a Tommy Conte look-a-like smootching his boyfriend, an Asian girl in a purple dress who’s thigh was bloodied and bandaged, hot wicked pale leatherettes, and a boyfriend who boarded the ‘E’ line with his girlfriend who was literally covered with deep red hickeys from neck to chest.

It was an event incomparable to the Sacred Bones’ showcase before it, or the ten-hour endurance test that was Hospital Productions’ 20th Anniversary. A double-headed victory, nonetheless. And I have the tracklist to prove it:

Male Tears: “Dealer”

Bedbug: “Songs About Ghosts”

Gauche: “Cycles”

Smash Your Enemies: “Faithless”

Courtney Love (indie): “Stripmine”

Axe Rash: “Bury Your Way Out”

Curse Mackey: “After You, Destruction”

Ducks Ltd.: “Sheets Of Grey”

Gauche: “Boom Hazard”

Nick Klein: “A Bundle And Some Speakers”

JPEGMAFIA: “The 27 Club”

Beirut: “So Slowly”

Dead Leaf Echo: “Milk.blue.kisses (Foil In Motion)”

Marine Girls: “On My Mind”

Katy & Nick: “Dinner Line”

Pom Pom Squad: “Popular”

Thanks For Coming: “Hard Drive”

Male Tears: “2AM”

Traps PS: “Prim Dancer”

7 Year Bitch: “You Smell Lonely”

Mediaslaves: “%”

Restraining Order: “Upper Class Bum”

Revolting Cocks: “Get Down” (EXT)

Old Iron: “Planetisimal”

Courtney Love: “My Last Night”

Television Personalities: “Happy Families”

Soda Lilies: “At Night” (demo)

Paper Dollhouse: “Emeralds”

Marbled Eye: “New Crease”

Male Tears: “Hit Me”

Silent Servant: “Slasher”

Siouxsie & The Banshees: “Party’s Fall”

Katy & Nick: “Sailor”

Kaputt: “Accordion”

Guerilla Toss: “Famously Alive”

Television Personalities: "Posing At The Roundhouse”

Totally Unicorn: “Dead Before A Live Audience”

Infinity Land: “Small Town Ritual Abuse”

DJ Muggs & Riggs: “Heads On The Wall”

Acumen Nation: “Gun Lover”

Mess: “F.T.W.”

JPEGMAFIA: “What’s Crackin”

Michael Berdan: “Combat Shock (Sentimental About the Taste of Gun Oil)“

Breakfast Muff: "Crocodile”

Mr. Elevator: “I Am The Moon”

Belk: “Question Of Stress”

Fight Amp: “Ex Everything”

Spike Hellis: “Rook”

Baby Strange: “Midnight”

Smirk: “Irrelevant Man”

Vandal Moon: “Young. Deadly. Beautiful”

Exek: “ID'ed”

Akitsa: “Vers La Victoire”

Happy Meals / Free Love: “May You Be The Mother”

Sunrot: “21%”

Vandal Moon: “Queen Of The Night”

[silyabeeodess]

FusionFall Headcanons: Nano Non-combative Roles

While most nanos stay with their own IE Donors, only around three nanos are actively on one team at any given time, as per recommendation of the Nano Project. However, there are ways for nanos to spend their time assisting in the war effort other than fighting or training.

In general, all nanos may help with the Nano Project itself. Regular checkups already give the scientists behind the project a steady stream of long-term data to work with. Older nanos given boosts to their power/abilities may see lab time or surveillanced practice in the field so that they train them in a controlled environment. Depending on the nano, they may also be used as mini mentors to assist others with more backward, disagreeable, or easily-frightened personalities. This practice isn't done so much to better prepare nanos as fighters as it is a means of encouraging positive relationships between new nanos and IE Donors via example. For instance, Courage nanos may be able to convince each other to act more bravely, learning how to lean on their IE Donors and know when their IE Donors will need to lean on them.

The extent of a nano's antidote ability is always being tested. They are easily capable of defending their IE Donors from the toxic effects of fusion matter. When they aren't running this defense, they may also be in charge of purging fusion matter from supplies or small areas--granted it is very hard to nearly impossible for them to directly affect the land itself, especially where the infection is already pretty bad. (In fact, they don't really cover much ground at all and can often risk pushing themselves too much in the attempt. The reason for this difficulty is due to the much wider range of the land as a target.) There was a strong need for this in the Future, with the amount of food and clean water available shrinking and little uncontaminated earth to grow more from.

Nanos with the radar ability are often put on sentry duty. This ability allows them to track large movements of fusion monsters in the event the latter conduct coordinated attacks to different areas. They may also be added to supply teams, along with nanos with the guard ability.

Nanos capable of increasing the speed or jump height to large amounts of people at once may assist in community evacuations. This increases the overall survival rate in an area, hurrying along and rescuing potential stragglers while soldiers focus their attention on defeating the monsters in-chase instead. Nanos with the sneak or recall abilities may also be included for this sort of job, but this is more often the case in dire situations where civilians have been closed-off by Fuse's army and/or are in need of rescue.

Speaking of rescuing, Treasure Finders can do more than just locate Coco's eggs to add to our stash. If groups such as supply teams go missing, Treasure Finders may be able to track down their location based on whatever they're carrying. Every now and then, Mac and other soldiers have needed help tracking down Coco herself this way.

On the rarer side, nanos with the revive ability--particularly those capable of handling lost souls like Grim's and Demongo's--might be in-charge of finding missing soldiers found/believed to be dead that did not respawn at a Resurrect 'Em. These nanos may be familiar with the Underworld, in case a soul went where it wasn't supposed to yet, or have the dangerous job of investigating soul stealers. Many of these nanos were sent out during the missing heroes incident.

Any nano with a health ability has the potential to join medic teams. However, nanos capable of making/manifesting food, such as Eddy (jawbreakers), Eduardo (fries), Rigby (java jolt), Cheese (candy), Chowder (blormed milk) and Grim (heebie jeebie juice) may be added to cooking duty. If they're too destructive to be trusted in the kitchen, their ability may instead be used to create imaginary foods as simple medicines that could deter fusion matter along with other varying effects. This was another valuable asset in the Future.

[mangoshorthand]

Flesh and Blood- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch5 (Hard Feelings Part 3)

SUMMARY: As Christmas approaches, everything between you and Five is perfect...until a destructive temporal anomaly gets in the way. Five is convinced another permutation of himself is to blame. Nothing's simple when you're in a relationship Five Hargreeves: could your loyalties be tested in a way unique to him? Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve - Chapter Thirteen

You and Five need a place to hide.

Proceed at your own risk and Merry Christmas, I guess....

Chapter Five: Keechie's Cabin

Keechie was a dedicated follower of Destiny’s Children. When he died in April 1997, he left his cabin and the bulk of his estate to his Prophet, believing in his divinity to his dying day. Klaus had been lucky to have been able to claim it nearly twenty-five years after the fact. Deep in the forests near the Maine border, it provided Klaus with the perfect bolthole in the last few years. Whenever he needed to get away for a bit of much needed self-care, the cabin always welcomed him.

As cozy as it was, Klaus didn’t envy them spending winter there. Luckily, she and Five would be able to get there with relative ease now but in a few weeks’ time the roads might be hard to pass. The cabin boasted an outbuilding complete with tools, Snowcat and snow shovels, but the isolation still worried him a little, especially considering they would have to stay there for the rest of her pregnancy. They'd have to go completely dark. Their phones were left, switched off in their bedroom. They couldn't be traceable.

She runs around upstairs packing them both clothes and personal objects while Five creates himself a small arsenal from the weapons room. Klaus empties the whole pantry into the trunk of the larger of Five’s two cars. Anything non-perishable or long dated. Just in case.

When confirmation came through, Herb drummed his fingers on the desk and scribbled a note on his pad. They’d lost Wynn and the mark had survived. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected- the Commission employed many extraordinary agents, but Number Five had always been in a league of his own. 

Herb had certainly been no fan of The Handler’s, she was a terrifying woman and particularly sinister when it came to Five, now he thinks about it. One thing she’d said a few times had stuck with him though: could the Commission be like jazz?  Could it…improvise? Was it worth doggedly pursuing the same course of action when even your partial attempt might tweak things? Why not take a more iterative, free form approach? When he made the order, killing Five’s partner (or fiancée now, apparently) had been the kindest cut, but since this news he’d had an inkling. After years in the office, Herb had learned to trust his inklings about things.

So when Betty returned with the rerun files, Herb had read them carefully two or three times. Sometimes, things take care of themselves. No more cuts were needed, kind or otherwise: it seemed that they’d already taken the decisive action. Things would resolve themselves and, this way, Five would only have himself to blame.

Five is weird about laundry. You both had to adapt to each other’s idiosyncrasies, (Five had taken to wearing socks in bed because you got freaked out if the soles of his feet touched you unexpectedly in the night) but his laundry thing had been one of the first. 

When you’d moved in, still recovering from your injuries at the hands of Michael Monroe, you’d bought some new detergent, done a load of laundry, pressed it and put it away while he was out. When Five had gone to dress himself the next day, he’d tensed and ripped the shirt off him as if it was filled with writhing insects.

“What’s that smell?”

“It’s a new detergent” you’d said, bewildered, watching him scratch at his arms where the shirt had touched.

“I hate lavender.” He’d grumbled, still hugging himself a little.

“Who hates lavender?”

“I do. Just…thanks and all but let me do the laundry from now on.”

Considering this was your most hated chore, you hadn’t looked this particular gift-horse in the mouth. This had stuck, and Five was now in charge of laundry. As a result, when you’re hurriedly stuffing clothing into suitcases, you’re not sure where most of your panties and his favorite pajamas are.

"There’s a load still sitting in the drier." he mutters, distractedly, sat on a stool and checking a scope fits the Remington he intends to bring.

Before you can hurry away, he calls you back. His eyes and tone of voice seem detached. 

"You said you felt it this time?"

"Yeah. I felt it come...out. It pulsed my stomach."

He looks back down at the rifle.

"You need to understand what you're getting into here. This is going to be months of isolation and I can't predict what will happen with the portals," when you meet his eyes, there's only business-like seriousness, "Diego's a sack of shit but he's right. We could go down to planned parenthood."

When the words are out, a sliver of emotion comes back into his eyes, perhaps at the look in yours.

"I..." you consider, chewing your lips, "I still don't want to."

He closes his eyes and nods.

"I thought as much," he takes one hand off the gun and rubs at his forehead, "I just wanted you to know you have the option. I know it would be the logical way forward but is it weird that I'm relieved?"

"No. Logic doesn't always come into these things. Plus, I could still hurt people: the doctors, the public."

He smiles, and the angle of his lips signals that he's still feeling the effect of drink.

"We could just aim you at the protesters outside?"

You let out a hum or two of laughter and kiss the crown of his head. 

With the packing finally done, (though a little haphazardly), everyone except Diego and Santi had said goodbye as you’d got ready to leave. You couldn’t really blame Diego, but Lila gave you a hug.

“Just ignore him, kitten. He just got a scare." she kisses your cheek and hands you a box, "I found this for you, it's a doppler from when I was pregnant with Santi. It lets you hear the heartbeat."

"Thank you," you'd hugged her again, tears in your eyes.

As Viktor said his goodbye, he held you extra tight and whispered to you.

“I know what it’s like to be treated like a bomb that could go off at any moment. It’s not fair.”

You reciprocate his tight hold.

Diego watches you drive away from an upper window. 

How Lila can wave you off as if you couldn’t maim her in a second, he doesn’t know. Well, if Lila loses a limb, she shouldn’t expect any sympathy from him.

They’ve already argued about it. Apparently Lila cares more about Five’s kid than her own. She watched Santi bleed like a firehose just like he did, and yet she’s downstairs acting like nothing happened?

The helplessness was the worst thing. He thought he could protect his boy from anything, but that portal chewed him in like a devouring maw.

Absent-mindedly, he runs the sheathed blade of one of his knives between a finger and thumb. He only turns around when a small voice sounds from Santi’s bed.

“Daddy, can we play video games now?”

It makes him smile.

“Sure. But nothing too intense. We're gonna play Animal Crossing or something.”

He turns away from the window as the car exits his field of vision.

Five has roughly six stages of drunkenness, (one fewer than Paradox Psychosis): Stage One: Elevated and jokey Stage Two: Surly Stage Three: Awful dancing Stage Four: Karaoke Stage Five: Maudlin Stage Six: Vomiting and blackouts

When he’d been called into action against Wynn, he’d been somewhere between three and four, but the hour or so of abstinence since then had brought him back down to a two.

You were driving the whole way- nearly seven hours. You could tell that not being in control of the car was difficult for him, especially with the chance of another portal appearing at any second. Your insistence that he was several times over the legal alcohol limit was the only thing that stopped him from taking the wheel. He’d tried to argue that he was fine to drive, (hadn’t he just fought Wynn well enough?), but you’d put your foot down. So instead, he sat morosely for the first hour, backseat driving in a way that made you want to drive him off an overpass.

“That’s a yield sign!”

“I know, I can see it too.”

“Sorry.”

He’d leaned his head against the door instead. His leg was shaking restlessly.

“Will they find us at the cabin?” you ask.

“Yes. Eventually, I just don't know when. We need to be vigilant and we may have to run. I can deal with the Commission once you’ve had the baby.”

“What do you mean, ‘deal with’?”

“Boom.” he mimics an explosion with his hands.

You scoff, “So the first thing you’re going to do when you become a Dad is blow up a bunch of people?”

“Yup. I’m protecting you both. Isn't that what Dads do? The limit’s 70 here, by the way”

“I know!”

“Sorry.”

“Last year you told me you were done with them- done with killing for them.”

“Correct. And what better way to ensure I keep that promise than blowing them sky high?”

His voice and eyes take on the look that scares you- the unhinged look he wore as he held the gun to your head on the night you met. That look is really just the B-side of the disorder he’s unwilling to acknowledge out loud; the other face of the neuroses that cause him to wake screaming at least once a week. You try to bring him down:

“And what if you don’t come back? How do you protect us then?”

He looks out of the window, cheek pressed against the glass. After what seems like a long time, he replies.

“Once the baby’s born, the threat should be neutralized. I suppose I could renegotiate with Herb.

“Then do that.

“Watch your blind spot.”

 “FIVE I swear to God-“

“Sorry.” he says and falls silent. 

You drive for a few more minutes in silence until a thought hits you, 

"Shit."

“What?”

“I forgot your Christmas present.”

“Don't worry about it, dear one. We had more important things to worry about."

"So you forgot mine too?"

He lets out a little laugh. “Would I forget something like that?” 

"Well now I feel bad."

He snickers, pulls out the road atlas and spends a few minutes following the route. An idea seems to strike him and he smiles boyishly.

“Hey- let’s try and make the most of this.” He leans towards you, angling his jaw in the way he knows you find most attractive. “Me and you, before the baby comes. What do they call that these days? A ‘babymoon’?”

Apparently, he’s back down to his drunk stage one.

“I’m not sure imminent threat of assassination or consumption by a rogue time portal is what the Instagram moms had in mind.”

“But would you expect any less from a baby-daddy like me?”

You catch his eye briefly. His grin broadens and his eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline.

“Plus…” he continues, “A Christmas snuggled up by the fire…Bing Crosby playing…snow outside” his voice has taken on a silky quality; smooth-talking you, “it sounds pretty ideal to me.”

It does sound nice. You rock your head from side to side, seeming to weigh his words.

“Maybe I can go cut us a little Christmas tree?”

You smile, unable to keep playing nonchalant. “That does sound pretty perfect.”

He puts a hand on your leg and strokes you, inching his hand upwards and inwards. With his finger-tips, he makes little circles high on the inside of your thigh.

“I’ll have you all to myself…and out there in the woods, there’s no-one to hear you scream.”

This gives you the giggles:

"Is that supposed to be sexy?" 

Five scowls, though it doesn't reach his eyes. You push him a little further; you consider teaching him to laugh at himself one of your primary responsibilities. 

"That was like, the opposite of hot, Five. It makes it sound like you're going to murder me."

He laughs reluctantly, keeping his brows lowered in mock-irritation. 

"I'm not ruling it out."

The first few weeks had been the idyll he’d foreseen. Once you’d got used to all the Klaus-based iconography hanging here and there, the cabin was undoubtedly pleasant. The walls and floor are wood-paneled and give off that slightly minty pine smell.

It's a small building, consisting of a single living space made up by a rustic kitchen, dining area and living room. Upstairs, on a mezzanine level is the bedroom and bathroom.  In the middle of the downstairs sits a wood stove, the chimney reaching up through the center of the house, spreading warmth throughout.

Though a little threadbare in places, Klaus has clearly kept the cabin in good repair. The floors are covered in rag rugs; the chairs and bed in crocheted quilts. It would have been the perfect vacation were it not punctuated at least once a day by increasingly uncomfortable portal eruptions. 

On December 20th, Five had indeed brought in a little four-foot pine. You decorated it together with threaded popcorn, a few cookies, holly and some pink hydrangea you’d found in the woods. Left from summer, the flowers had faded on their stems to a deep rust color, individual petals brown and skeletal. After unearthing some 1960s household candles from a kitchen drawer, you had managed to secure them to the end of the tree's branches with wire, lighting up the whole thing pleasantly. It was a makeshift tree but all the more special for that.

Five was, of course, an extremely adapt hunter. Thirty minutes on Christmas Eve was all he had needed to return with a buck slung over his shoulders. This he’d hung, skinned and butchered over the course of the rest of the day. The chest-freezer in the outbuilding was stuffed full of meat by the time he’d finished. You’d been both impressed and saddened by his unflinching efficiency. Survival had been his way of life for so long. He took no pleasure in hunting like some did- it was a means to an end.

The beautiful roast venison loin was the star of your Christmas meal. The canned potatoes and greens you ate with them had not done the meat justice.

After dinner, he had produced two wrapped boxes, a large and a small one. 

"One of them I'm pretty sure you'll like, the other was just a guess so maybe open that first."

He handed you the smaller of the two boxes, wrapped (badly) in paper patterned with sleighs. Before you had done opening it, he'd already started talking. 

“I…er…I know you don’t wear much perfume but I thought it might suit you. It reminded me of the body wash you use. Apparently that’s geranium?”

You took the bottle out of its box and spritzed it on your wrist. It was nice. While it was true that you don’t wear perfume very often, this one might be an exception.  

“Do you like it?”

He was clearly trying to project his usual confidence and failing. You could tell by the slight sway in his hips that he was anxious for your approval. It was helplessly endearing. You could just imagine him, stalking around the fragrance counters of a department store before a brave retail assistant approached him.

"I love it. I'm just surprised you didn't get me Chanel No.5."

He grinned back at you, "I considered it but it seemed a little...gauche."

You'd laughed at this, an ironic smile forming.

"As if you jack off in the mirror and really love the smell of your own farts?"

"That's a weird way of putting it, but yeah."

You laughed again, applying it to the pulse point of your neck, then stood a little on tip toe to give him a peck on the lips. 

"It suits you. But don't forget about the other one now."

Inside the larger gift's paper was a brown paper shoe box, tied with a red ribbon. You gaped on noticing the branding.

"Shit...Five!"

His smile was broad, "That's the one I'm sure about...but I think you might struggle wearing them as the baby gets bigger."

Inside, as you hoped, were the scalloped-edged designer pumps you'd tried on months ago but dismissed as too frivolous an expense. You looked up at him, eyes wide. He looked back at you, trying to conceal that he was proud of himself. 

"Wow...how did you...?"

"I have my sources," he said, mouth twitching.

You picked up one of the shoes as if it was made of glass. It was the right size. Your shining eyes met his. 

"Did Lila tell you about them? Or Klaus?"

"Can't I have a bit of goddamn mystery?" 

This was as good as admitting it, so you laughed and gave him a quick, fierce hug. Before breaking apart, you kissed him on the nose.

"Thank you, darling, I can't believe it!"

"Don’t mention it. Merry Christmas, beautiful." 

He moved as if to kiss you again, but you were out of his grip too quickly, peeling off your thick socks to put the shoes on. It was better to make the most of them before your ankles swelled to the size of hams. Five had watched with amusement as you looked down at your feet admiringly and gave a little squee of excitement.

"So you're quite the champagne socialist at heart?"

"Oh shut up. I just wanna redistribute the champagne!"

He laughed a little. He was enjoying spoiling you. The gleam in your eye gave him what a less cynical man might describe as ‘the warm fuzzies’. All he knew was that seeing the woman he loved carrying his baby and eyes filled with childlike joy was nice, to say the least.

You spent the rest of the day lying on the rug in front of the fire, listening to and singing along with old songs, making out and talking softly about how things would be this time next year. Occasionally, you raised your feet above your heads, looked at your shoes and let out more exclamations of pleasure.

His smile was smug.

“So your gift for me has a lot to live up to, then?”

"You'll see."

As the time drags on and Christmas fades into the new year, you both begin to feel the effects of confinement. Your pregnancy bump seems to grow daily after barely being visible for so long. The baby also begins to press on your bladder, making you irritable and needing to rush to the bathroom with alarming regularity.

The hormones are also a killer, especially in this uniquely stressful situation. You find yourself beginning to cry more regularly while your sex drive, (already healthy) has rocketed to a slightly deranged level. Five struggles to keep up with your lightning-fast mood changes; confused by how quickly crying could turn into sex and vice-versa.

Ever vigilant in case the Commission made another attempt, he had set up booby traps in the surrounding woods and he checks these compulsively, never wandering out of earshot, lest he's needed to close a portal.

He's sleeping even worse than usual: you often wake in the night to find him maintaining his weapons or else reading about fetal development and how to soothe crying infants from one of the many books on the subject he brought from his Dad's study.

On one such night, a portal erupts in your sleep, waking you up with a shriek from pain like intense menstrual cramps. Furniture slides across the room, ready to plug and then be devoured by the portal.

“It’s okay- it’s okay!”

Five throws back the covers, blinking in the sudden eerie light. Finding his feet, he feels the portal’s resonance with his hands, allowing his power and instinct to work in tandem. The furniture slows by a tiny amount and he manages to key-in.

“It hurts!”

“Hold on!”

The portal thrummed and spat static electricity. This is bad. This isn't right. They've been getting worse, sure, but these pains are like a wet washcloth being wrung tight inside you.

“The baby, Five! I might be having-" but your final words are engulfed in a shriek as the washcloth ratchets to an even tighter apex.

His face screwed in concentration and grunts of effort escaping the corners of his mouth, he leans forward into his outstretched arms. Saliva flies from his mouth with his hard, hissing breathing through gritted teeth

“Nearly.”

With a yell and a forward lurch, Five dispels the portal, falling onto his hands and knees. The pain recedes, like the tide going in over rocky ocean bed. You're able to breathe fully again, so you pant. Meanwhile, Five scrambles to his feet and tosses through the bedside cabinet with little regard for the rest of the contents.

“Are you ok? Does it still hurt?”, he says, wildly.

“I…don’t know.” He finds what he's looking for: Lila's doppler. He throws the covers off you to expose your stomach.

His shaking hands fumble with the box and the machine and gel fall out onto the bed. You grab the gel while he readies the sensor and handset. You manage to get the screw-top off with difficulty and spread it onto your stomach. The handset beeps on in Five's hand and he applies the sensor. He skims it over you.

Nothing,

You’d seize his wrist and move it lower; you looking up at him and he down at you. Your eyes exchange a single look of panic while nothingness still rings in your ears.

"No." murmurs Five, answering the growing certainty in your eyes. He moves the sensor again.

...and there it is; the doppler detects the steady whoosh whoosh of the heartbeat. You breathe identical sighs of relief. He leans forward and presses his forehead against yours, breathing coming to an easier rhythm. 

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @fivefolklore, @jamiebower88

Chapter 6 on Tumblr Next Tues

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03.  Here is a link to the whole series

[endlessnightlock]

hi!! 💞 I LOVED your district 13 drabble!!! I was wondering if it’d be possible to request a prompt with everlark (either hijacked peeta, or non hijacked peeta where he escaped quell with katniss lol) sneaking away during Finnick and Annie’s wedding to a hiding place bc their sexual tension hits a peak👀??

12 Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

17 Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin.

50 A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.

Here's a link to the first two parts of this story on Ao3.

Everlark In-Panem Canon Divergent A/U.

District 13.

An interesting couple of weeks have passed since Peeta woke from a weeks-long coma. The doctors kept him in the hospital for most of that time, running scans, drawing blood, and doing tests to assess what sort of damage was done to his mind and body. Between Capitol torture and his more recently-acquired injury, a hard knock to his head on the floor when soldiers stopped him from choking me the night of his rescue, there is much to watch out for.

His aggressiveness seems over, other than some irritability, and frankly I can't blame him. I don't spend much of my day with him to know, so what I learn is gleaned in pieces. Considering everything he's been through, he's not doing too bad. I just don't know what to say to him now.

With Peeta safe and out of immediate danger, needing a distraction from my thoughts, I've fallen back into the scheduled life of a soldier in training. Directions are printed on our arms every morning here. Wake up, have breakfast, train, rest, lunch, afternoon class, afternoon training, etc. In between, I try not to think about the death and destruction unleashed around us. The mental and physical acrobatics leave me with little time on my hands, which is exactly what I need right now. Spare time is a bad thing when you're trying your best to keep your sanity.

Evenings are reserved for visiting Peeta. Others come to see him too. Johanna, Annie and Finnick, Prim, Haymitch, my mother. Even Gale. Oh, and Delly Cartwright. I think she's the one who told him about his family. She lost hers in the bombing as well. I'm glad I didn't have to tell him myself.

Life in Thirteen, while relatively safe since the night of the air raids, has fallen into drudgery. Grey walls, grey uniforms, grey food, grey moods. But tonight, we underground moles have something to break up the monotony. Finnick and Annie are getting married. I sit in the crowded cafeteria with my mother and Prim, watching the happy couple recite vows to respect, love, and cherish each other for the rest of their lives.

In the corner of the room, there's a designated celebration area. A woman from back home managed to save her family fiddle from the bombing, so there's to be dancing after the ceremony is over. The crowning jewel amid the sparse decorations a place like Thirteen could offer is a beautiful cake Peeta decorated for Finnick and Annie..

"What do you think of it?" Peeta asks, appearing at my side out of nowhere as I study the turquoise waves, dolphins, and copper-headed mermen. He catches me off guard but I'm so in awe of his artistry that I don't have to consider what to say.

"It's wonderful," I tell him sincerely, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Gorgeous," I add for good measure, gesturing to the seashell cluster on the top layer.

"I worked on it most of the week, and I'm still not completely happy with it," Peeta admits, turning toward me. He looks the healthiest I've seen since his rescue. His hair has grown out enough that it's curling again, and the purple streaks beneath his eyes have faded away, leaving the brightness of his blue eyes and smile to draw my attention.

"Don't say that. It's perfect."

I swallow nervously when his gaze locks on mine, and I realize I've been staring at him while my mind wanders. He is so close to the old Peeta tonight that my heart aches for what we had in the Quarter Quell arena before everything went to hell. The way I kissed him, the way I knew I'd give up on living if he was taken away from me.

He's looking at me intently. When one corner of his mouth turns up in a questioning smile, a swelling warmth trickles out from my heart and careens through my veins to each of my extremities until every nerve hums. Peeta is here, alive. While neither one of us is screwed together exactly right anymore, and neither of us may live to see the end of the war, for now, we're here together. We made it out, and that has to mean something.

I reach for his hand and thread my fingers through his. He frowns, perplexed, until I tug on his hand and walk away, leading him out of the room. "Where are we going?" he asks, his voice low.

"I don't know. Not here," I say, ignoring the glances people give us. Gale is nowhere to be found, not that he would stop me now. I don't want to hurt him, but I can't pretend there's any chance of me ever wanting him the way I want Peeta.

"Away from the audience," Peeta murmurs. He sounds a little in awe. "Is this real? If not, please don't wake me up."

That's the old him I love morphed into the person he is now. Older, wiser.

We stop at the end of the hallway, where one of the overhead lights is burnt out, leaving a shadowed corner perfect for two. We're alone, but I want to take no chances.

I take his other hand in my free one. "It's real," I admit.

"We've never---"

"I know." My voice shakes at the end of my admission. "I wanted to be alone with you. Everyone, they've seen enough, judged enough. I want this to be ours."

"Want what to be ours?"

"I don't know exactly, but I really want you to kiss me right now."

He smiles widely and laughs, his eyes crinkling up in the corners. I don't know if he's in disbelief or excited or what, but I return it. He doesn't keep me waiting. My lids have already dropped before he presses the softest kiss on my lips. His arms wrap around my waist as I lean into him, two hearts bent on the same quest---to be closer, as close as we can get. When my hand inches beneath his shirt to feel the warmth of his body, he gasps at the first touch of my fingers. "Where have you been all night, in an icebox?"

Instead of denying my whereabouts, I pull him closer, kissing him deeply, then pulling away to trail more down the cord of his neck. I brush my nose against his skin, taking in that Peeta smell that makes me feel like I'm home.

Whatever happens in the upcoming days, whether we're thrown into the middle of another fight or not, at least we have tonight.