#how the hell will I survive the next four years the first year is killing me

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

☒ Summary: "Alastor said we've met before. In the living world. But I seriously don't ever remember meeting him." Angel looked puzzled. "Soo... what do you remember from your life?" 

☒ Warnings: fem!reader she/her pronouns used, hurt with no comfort sorry, tons of confusion for alastor and the reader, one kiss, very suggestive language (its from angel- are we surprised?), slight self harming (alastor), blood, tears, arguing, desprate!alastor, toxic themes, split pov (second devider is when alastor's pov starts!)

☒ Word Count: 2,653

"You- WHAT?" 

Angel shot up from his spot on your bed. His eyes widened, eyebrows knitting in perplexity.

"I know- I know! It's bad... but I wasn't thinking clearly!" You slumped under Angel's judgemental gaze, pulling your knees up to your chest from where you sat on your bed. 

"Toots, there is no way his pussy eating skills are good enough to fuck you that dumb!" You averted your gaze. Heat rose to your cheeks from Angel's crass words.

"Oh, but they are..." You mumbled before you felt two of Angel's hands grip your shoulders, shaking you out of frustration.

"Did you really have to pick an absolute psychopath to be the one to pop your cherry? Toots, you're gorgeous. You could have anyone you want!" You were flustered beyond comprehension as Angel stopped shaking you. Opting to glare at your heated face instead. 

"We didn't go all the way! Plus he's the one who's been pursuing me all this time- I didn't get it at first, and I still don't. But-" Your expression morphed into one of contemplation. Angel's jaw went slack as he impatiently awaited your next words. "But what?! Spit it out!"

"He said we've met before. In the living world. But I seriously don't ever remember meeting him." Angel nudged you to the side before slotting himself atop your bed once more. "Soo... what do you remember from your life?" 

You froze. 

Angel's inquiry filled your mind with more questions than answers. 

"I... not much," You paused, turning to face Angel before you continued. "The earliest memory I have is waking up in a hospital bed after surviving a blow to the head from some hunting accident." 

You closed your eyes, wracking your brain for every last detail you could remember; no matter how small. "I ended up falling into a coma only days after that mishap. The next thing I know, I'm in fucking hell." You chucked bitterly. Angel let out a laugh of his own. 

"No offense, babe, but that has to be one of the saddest fuckin' things I've ever heard," Angel outstretched his legs, overlapping them atop yours. "That accident, what else can you remember about it? Maybe that's the ticket!" 

Your eyes shot open from Angel's question. "Wait... before I fell into a coma, there was this nurse- she told me that I was led into the woods by a dangerous fellow," You paused, eyes scanning Angel's wildly as he perched himself forward. Literally hanging on the edge of his seat from your musings. 

"She told me the gunshot wound saved my life, fucking ironic now because It ended up killing me anyway. She also said that... the man who took me into the woods was a serial killer who had been on the run for decades. He ended up getting shot in the head that night, also. Except he died instantly..."

Angel was hanging on to every word you uttered. He could see the pieces falling into place from your look of awe. "What was the man's name, toots? What was it?!" Angel shouted a little louder than he intended. You jolted back from his outburst, taking in a shaky breath. You replayed that memory with the nurse over and over again. 

She had to have said it at some point. 

Come on! Think, think- think!

“Turns out the man you were out in those woods with was a wanted serial killer. That 𝘈⃒̅𝘭⃒̅𝘢⃒̅𝘴⃒̅𝘵⃒̅𝘰⃒̅𝘳⃒̅ fellow was an active murderer for decades! The papers say he was good at steering clear of the cops for all these years. The hunter wasn’t even aiming for you both. His target was a nearby deer.”

"His target was a nearby deer."

A deer... 

Again. 

Retrace.

"That ɹ̸o̸ʇ̸s̸ɐ̸ʅ̸Ɐ̸ fellow was an active murderer for decades! The hunter wasn’t even aiming for you both. His target was a nearby deer."

Fuck- it was just out of reach. 

One more time, one more fucking time. 

Think carefully. 

"The hunter wasn’t even aiming for That A͊l͖a̪sto̶̸̅r̷̦͍ fellow. His target was a nearby deer."

You gasped sharply, startling Angel. You felt your heart sink into your stomach as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place.

"Alastor... his name was Alastor." 

Your voice was distant as you spaced out. Angel's face blurred out of focus through your line of sight. 

"You've got to be fuckin' kidding me. That freak was going to kill you when you were still alive-? And now... you belong to him? Shit- toots! This is rough... and not the good kind of rough." 

Alastor sat at the piano. Staring at the keys with that ever-present smile— but not daring to strike a tune. 

You’ve been avoiding him again.

What was it going to take for you to realize that he was your fiancé on earth? 

Sure, his features were more creature than man, but at the end of the day; Alastor was still the same man you fell in love with. 

Maybe he should have held off from his… desires. 

Could you blame him, though? He’s been waiting nearly a century to be reunited with his beloved. 

You’re the person he thought about for all these lonely years in hell. The only solace for Alastor was the notion that you survived, lived a long happy life, and inevitably made it to the pearly gates. 

So imagine his despair when you showed up at the Hazbin Hotel, looking to be redeemed. 

Alastor recognized you immediately. He could spot that grin of yours in a crowd of billions. 

Smile at the world, and she smiles back at you. 

But— you didn’t even spare him the time of day. Alastor gave you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you just needed some time to reignite your memory. 

And so, he gave you time. You’ll come around, Alastor thought. 

But he couldn’t have been more wrong, as much as he hated to admit it. 

He grew impatient— losing all of his resolve when you admitted to his voice reminding you of home. 

Alastor presumed maybe a passionate encounter would jumpstart your adoration for him. You had never breached that level of intimacy when you both were alive. You were adamant about waiting until marriage, but those dreams never came true. 

Yet even still, it was not enough. 

Was he really that forgettable to you? 

Suddenly, a knock on his door pulled him from his stupor. Alastor quickly cleared his throat, straightening his bowtie and taking steps toward his door. 

The second he swung the door open, he was met by the person who invaded his every thought; you. 

“What a pleasant surprise! Come in, my dearest.” Alastor piped up, stepping aside to let you into his safe haven. 

Your face was devoid of any vibrancy, and your eyes frantically avoided his. Alastor watched you closely as you hesitantly stepped past the threshold of his space. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Alastor hummed as he shut the door before turning on his heel to face you. 

You rubbed at the sleeve of your dress nervously. Alastor’s mind instantly flashed the memory of your first meeting. 

The sight of you soothing yourself with a gentle caress to your bicep. Clammy hands seeping perspiration through that gorgeous vermilion dress of yours.  

“I-I remember you…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. Legs trembling from where you stood before him.

Your words caused Alastor’s heart to race wildly. 

At long last— you remember him! 

“I knew you would, my smart girl! Ah- you have no clue how elated I am to finally hear those words leave your lips!” He invaded your personal space without missing a beat. 

Alastor’s eyebrows knitted in confusion as you dodged his hand— that had full intention of clasping around your cheek. 

“Don’t… don’t touch me.” Your voice was shrill as you took a step back from him. 

Alastor took one step forward. 

“My darling, why are you being so cold? You know how much I loathe teasing.” Alastor forced out a chuckle as you took two steps back. 

Alastor took three steps forward this time. 

“You’re sick! You’re the one who’s been teasing me all this time— how dare you?!” You spat, raising your hands to push him away, but to no avail. 

Alastor grasped your wrists with his large palms. He gazed down at you with a frenzied look, grip tightening scarcely around your wrists. “Darling… this isn’t funny anymore.” His voice was low, and the corners of his lips twitched in irritation. 

“It never was funny to begin with! I mean, how could you try to kill me on earth and then think it’s okay to fool around with me in hell?!” You glared up at him, tears of frustration now rolling down your cheeks. 

Alastor’s grip loosened from your words. He was utterly astonished. "You think I... tried to kill you?" His voice was quiet, crimson orbs frantically searching yours. 

You grimaced at him, rolling your eyes before you shouted, "You led me out into the woods, and the next thing I know, I'm in the hospital with a gunshot wound to the head and no memories before waking up in a stiff hospital bed! Everything I know about you and the accident was spoon-fed to me by some crappy nurse!"

Alastor's smile dropped. He wasn't even aware of the frown that crossed his features. The only giveaway was the absence of that standard achy feeling in his cheeks from holding an everlasting grin. "Darling, I-I'm not following... you mean to tell me you... don't remember your life before that mishap?" 

You looked puzzled by Alastor's uncharacteristic display of distress. His hands slipped from your wrists as he wobbled backward. "Yeah, and It's your fault! If you didn't haul me out into those woods to kill me, I would still remember who I was! And my whole life before all this bullshit!" 

You took a step forward. 

"I would remember my family, my career, if I even fucking had one! I would remember my joyful memories, my painful ones, and— and- maybe I would remember somebody who actually loved me!" You furiously glared up at him. Pointing your index finger into his chest in an accusatory fashion. 

Alastor snapped at your last words. 

Somebody who actually loved you?

It was him.

It was always him. 

Was his love for you really that immemorable?

"You truly aren't joking... you... don't remember me." Alastor felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. You were the last thing keeping it intact. All that he felt in his chest now was your blunt fingernail piercing his skin from where you jabbed him. 

"I just told you I do! What the fuck are you talking about?!" Alastor could tell your patience was wearing thin. You were probably just as confused as he was but for all the wrong reasons. 

Alastor's arms fell limp against his sides. Yet his fists were balled up so tightly that he could hear the pitter-patter of his blood spilling onto the carpet from how deeply his nails sunk into the flesh of his palm. 

You weren't ever going to believe the truth, but Alastor still needed to try.

"My dearest... that is not how we met. And my intentions were not and never will be to end your life." Alastor paused, taking in a shaky breath before continuing. 

"You're frustrated about not remembering somebody that loved you, yes? As am I..." You tilted your head in confusion. Finally pulling your finger away from his wounded chest. "What the fuck are you trying to say, Alastor?" Your voice was laced with annoyance, and your scowl was unwavering. 

"Darling, that somebody that loved you was me-and still is. It will always be me," Alastor paused, hands now finding purchase on your shoulders. "That accident should have never happened! We were scheduled to be wed at the courthouse later that evening... but... we never... made it..."

Why were his cheeks burning unbearably so? 

And why was your countenance blurring before his very eyes? 

Alastor's grip on your shoulders was unwavering, but his hands now trembled. Your expression was one of perplexity as you shook your head incredulously. "I loved you in life and now in death. I've loved you all this time, my sweet girl. Nothing will ever change that! Please, I beg of you- you must believe me!"

The definitive radio static crackle to his voice was nowhere to be found. Instead, his voice was laced with desperation. You looked disoriented through his blurry gaze as you took a weary step back. 

Alastor felt wetness trickle down his burning cheeks. 

Oh, he was... crying?

The last time he wept was when he first arrived in this grim place otherwise known as Hell. The realization that he left you on earth all alone tore him up. Alastor was inconsolable for years.

You truly knew how to put him together just to rip him apart all over again, huh? 

There is no undoing grander than love itself. 

"I-I don't believe you..." Your voice was just above a whisper as you slipped out of his grasp and approached the doorway. You turned your back on him, literally and metaphorically. 

Alastor didn't miss a beat. He rushed to you, large palm slamming flat against the wooden door. "We worked at the same radio station! Your bitch of a friend Elaine and her parents took you in after your pill-addict parents abandoned you on your eleventh birthday!"

You let out a sharp gasp as he hovered over you. Alastor couldn't read your expression, with your face practically pressing into the wooden door. All he could see was the top of your head as he pushed his chest into your rigid back. His arm was outstretched, keeping the door shut and caging you in entirely. 

"It was love at first sight for me! We went dancing for our first date. Did you truly fail to notice how effortlessly we moved along the dancefloor at Charlie's last gathering? It's because deep down, your body remembers every dance we ever shared,"

Alastor flipped you over faster than you could process. Your back was now flush against the sturdy door, his arm still caging you in. He peered down at you as his thumb and index finger from his non-dominant hand grasped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Every lingering touch..." 

He felt you tremble beneath his intense stare from how his chest now squashed against yours. Alastor's face dipped lower, invading your personal space. He brushed the tip of his nose against yours, breath fanning over your tear-stained cheeks. 

"And every kiss..."

Alastor observed you desperately as he pressed his lips against yours. He poured all his love into the shared embrace, hoping it would jumpstart your memory. But instead, you just shoved him away harshly, breaking away from his embrace. Alastor felt his world crumble around him as you wiped his kiss away with the back of your hand.

"You're fucking crazier than I thought!" With Alastor still reeling from the rejection, you took your leave. The sound of the door slamming thundered through his head. 

Alastor sunk to his knees. His hands came up to tug at his messy tufts of hair. Allowing the tears to flow freely now that he was completely alone.

Alastor did not think you were capable of hurting him until now. 

Alastor yanked at his locks furiously as his cheeks burned brightly in frustration. His knees quivered as his forehead kissed the carpet that was stained with his blood from earlier—when he unintentionally ripped up his palms. Alastor curled in on himself as he wept. 

This pain was worse than any other.

But more than anything, his love for you only burned brighter.

As did his determination to have you remember him and the pleasant life you both shared before all was lost. 

tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @wonderlandangelsposts @villxinmiixx @persephoneblck @maxlynn17 @littledolly2345 @karolinda007-blog @falling-endlessly @greekyoghurtwithberries @bladeismine @aloraaaxcrystalzx @doctorswife221b @scaramoochiie @fairyv-ice @chirikoheina @veroneverleft @tired-of-life-86 @saccharine-nectarine @c-thegingergirl @tsunaki @geminixbunny @softangxlicss @alleystore @sirens-and-moonflowers @fairyv-ice @honey132 @alastorsaries @zenix108 @michi-keinz @fokrilove @yourdoorisunlocked @willowshadenox @izakyun @fangirlbitch02 @kyana-chan @aquariaries @sincerely-lorely @maxlynn17 @ivebeenthearchersstuff

[drchucktingle]

queer horror memory lane

i know this screenshot above is just way of some algorithm but seeing these books together i am so honored youve allowed me to open my heart and trot out my art in this unique way. having two well received queer horror books (and third on way) is amazing given where i started my trot. thank you

easy to talk on 'death of unique art' these days but if you look at my story it is powerful example that buckaroos have a taste for challenging or untraditional figures in art. this is NOT to my credit, this is to YOUR credit. YOU have supported queer autistic art. i am so moved

i am already a pretty optimistic bud but still BLOWN AWAY by way my trot has been embraced over time. i recognize my perspective is 'strange' to many but to see the way this unique way was once treated with irony and now sincerity has bloomed in its place. it brings tears of joy

as i trot down my QUEER HORROR memory lane i am going to repost TRAILER for each book just because i have been basking in these memories and recalling the slow embrace of this timeline around me. thank you for allowing me this space i am so humbled and honored. LOVE IS REAL

STRAIGHT

When a strange tear in the cosmos appears within Earth’s annual path, the consequences are disastrous. For one night a year, the vast majority of humans now undergo a frightening mental change, transforming into hateful, rage-fueled zombies who will stop at nothing to satiate their desire for brutality.

While not much is understood about this horrific mass hysteria, the demographic it effects is very specific: cisgender straight people. 

A few years after the first of these tragic events, four friends from across the queer spectrum look for safety in solitude, hunkering down in a remote desert cabin for what is now known as Saturation Day. With a vaccine available for straight people to curb their violent episodes, some predict the worst is over. Others aren’t so sure.

As night falls, it becomes clear that survival isn’t guaranteed this Saturation Day.

GET STRAIGHT HERE

CAMP DAMASCUS

From beloved internet icon Chuck Tingle, Camp Damascus is a searing and earnest horror debut about the demons the queer community faces in America, the price of keeping secrets, and finding the courage to burn it all down. Welcome to Neverton, Montana: home to a God-fearing community with a heart of gold. Nestled high up in the mountains is Camp Damascus, the self-proclaimed “most effective” gay conversion camp in the country. Here, a life free from sin awaits. But the secret behind that success is anything but holy. And they’ll scare you straight to hell.

GET CAMP DAMASCUS HERE

BURY YOUR GAYS

Misha knows that chasing success in Hollywood can be hell.

But finally, after years of trying to make it, his big moment is here: an Oscar nomination. And the executives at the studio for his long-running streaming series know just the thing to kick his career to the next level: kill off the gay characters, "for the algorithm," in the upcoming season finale.

Misha refuses, but he soon realizes that he’s just put a target on his back. And what’s worse, monsters from his horror movie days are stalking him and his friends through the hills above Los Angeles.

Haunted by his past, Misha must risk his entire future―before the horrors from the silver screen find a way to bury him for good.

PREORDER BURY YOUR GAYS HERE

i am blessed by your support, your love, and your kindness. cannot believe how lucky i am to trot with you in all in this way and i cant WAIT to see what the future of this timeline holds for us. thank you for proving love with me from the past to the future

[sable-skies]

thought abt an au i doodled up months ago but never fully explored, so here's some concept designs for that. im gonna ramble about it now

+ height comparison under the keep reading!

god okay i gotta admit: i, unfortunately, kinda love game of thrones. truthfully i dont care for the sex and inc*st part of the show, but i really enjoy the interconnected weaving plot lines, drama, and utter bullshit that happens in that show. its amazing, i love it, its so fucking stupid. so earlier this year i doodled up some ideas for a game of thrones inspired post-totk au. those are here, and here!

I then dropped it and didnt return to it until now, because i started season 2 of house of the dragon and yknow. why not.

as for actual details about the au: i said in the past it was a got-loz au, but im gonna go ahead and say that i misspoke then because i mean more like, post-totk/loz au INSPIRED by got, because i would never want to do a 1-to-1 au of that god awful show. i mostly think exploring a hyrule that is peaceful, but secretly on the brink of civil chaos and how bad humanity could truly get would be really fun to explore!

i struggled to pick a single role for link to have in such an au, so i said fuck it and divided him up into four parts, in universe the hero's spirit has been split amongst four brothers. to nod towards this, and because i'm cheeky as hell, the first letters of each of their names spells link. Laurent, Irving, Nymos, and Kiran. (im so fucking funny (<- is not funny))

they're all noble born to Arthur Hearth, current lord of House Hearth which basically controls and sits on the Great Plateau, and their mother was Eyla, a member of the Sheikah from Kakariko Village who unfortunately passed away shortly after Kiran was born. Arthur btw is named after the King Arthur legends from Europe, as those served as inspiration for the series in general!

I think a plot would follow them all after the death of their father and how they cope with it and move forward, and how they combat suddenly being labeled traitors to the kingdom for their father's acclaimed crimes.

this is getting long, so I'll do some misc bullet points next on their personalities:

Laurent, as the oldest, had to mature pretty quickly after the death of their mother, Eyla. Which has caused him to grow protective of his younger brothers almost to an overbearing degree. He gets nervous when they're not home, which sucks because Irving is a knight, Nymos studies in Kakariko often, and Kiran wants to explore the world via the survey team. Other then that, he's responsible, quite serious in most situations, and still very kind hearted. After his father's death he starts to spiral into a rage-filled depression, determined to get his brothers back and make the king pay for killing his father.

Irving is the most middle child ever. Due to Laurent being in line for lord of their house and is never gonna back down from that, he sought his own purpose in being a royal knight / royal guardsman / kingsguard. It hasn't really worked out well for him honestly, his higher ups hate him for being Arthur's son, seemingly so naturally talented in combat, and charismatic amongst the ranks that some knights ignore their orders just to follow Irving's instead. So as punishment he's been assigned as the former princess Zelda's bodyguard / retainer. While it disappointed him to not serve his full duties at first, he's come to accept it and treats her kindly. He's proud, a little over-confident, just, and secretly a bleeding heart. After the death of their father, he's forced to choose between his family and Zelda, and knowing that Zelda will most likely die without him, he stays with her.

Nymos, oh poor fucking Nymos dude. As a child he fell into the depths and somehow survived, which was fine, but then he came across a patch of gloom that seemingly never faded, and ever since he's been cursed with doomed visions of the future and a talent for magic. No one believes him about the lingering gloom, and claims that he simply has PTSD from the incident in general, but he knows what he saw. He's sought out magical-based physical therapy in Kakariko because of this, and he's pretty much regarded as a local there. He's quiet, a bit withdrawn, pessimistic, but has a strong sense of justice and genuinely wants the best for those around him, even if he doesn't know how to say it properly. When Laurent and Irving are away, he's the one looking after Kiran and keeping him safe. When his father dies, he immediately starts to investigate the current monarchy for signs of dark magic tampering, which leads him down a rabbit hole he never even knew existed, all the while he's being tormented by visions of his brother dying gruesome and horrible deaths. he's forever an internal nervous WRECK

Kiran!! The baby!! Might be the most dangerous brother of the four, but we'll cover that later. As the resident youngest sibling he's naturally gotten away with pretty much everything and anything, because who can say no to those big baby blues. Thankfully he's not actually that destructive or ill-mannered, but he isn't above pulling a prank on someone for the fun of it. He yearns to leave home and explore the vast continent of Hyrule though, and shortly before everything goes wrong he's accepted into the Survey Team and gets to enjoy it for a bit. He's excitable, energetic, optimistic, and somewhat a handful (get this teen a child leash please) but he means well and is determined to get whatever is on his mind done and finished. He's the last to be told his father is dead as his team didn't tell him about the incident until suddenly there's a group of bandits attacking them and demanding they had Kiran over for ransom. Kiran goes willingly of course, as he doesn't want his team members to get hurt. He later falls into the depths and survives via the sail cloth around his shoulders and meets a strange little fox he calls Todd.

I have so many notes in my head about these guys but again, i'll shut up for now :] here are the heights!

btw; they're all based on a previous incarnation of link and a got character, if you figure it out I'll shake ur hand.

[coryosmin]

Confessions - Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW Content MDNI, Talks of Trauma from Hunger Games, Talks of Prostitution, emotional sex, vaginal fingering, p in v, i love yous during sex, friends with benefits, sex with feelings, unprotected sex

please guys this is 3,000 words 😭😭😭

based off of an ask to do finnick x shy reader and one where reader admits her feelings for Finnick because her crush on him is so obvious (i definitely did not make the crush part obvious but pls enjoy it nevertheless)

It all started when you had won your Hunger Games. You were the victor of the 69th Hunger Games from District 4. You had grown close to Finnick as he was your mentor during your time as a tribute. And the night before the Games, you had confided in him with all of your fears, all of your weepiness, your goodbyes.

So when you won your games, it was more than a shock to you. You were in a daze. You didn’t comprehend that you won right away. When you had gotten picked up by the hovercraft, you didn’t react. When Finnick greeted you with a bone-crushing hug, you thought it was nothing more than your imagination. Nothing felt real. Not after murdering all of those innocent children simply as a means of survival. Your victory interview passed like a blur. You didn’t even realize when President Snow had gifted you the crown. You didn’t even realize how you had gotten on to the train back home.

You had been in this daze until you arrived back in District Four and heard the ocean for the first time in two weeks. You had been moved to a house in Victor’s Village without your family. Being eighteen years old, you didn’t need to rely on them any longer. So, in your daze, when you saw the ocean for the first time, it hit you. Everything hit you all at once. You were lucky that it had been only Finnick who guided you to your home.

You immediately began to cry, shaking as you understood what all happened. You had killed ten of the twenty-three other tributes which is more than what previous Victors had. You went through hell and back, so much emotional and physical turmoil, and now the repercussions of it all were finally catching up to you. And Finnick? He hugged you immediately, rubbing your bath soothingly as he held you tight, squeezing you to ground you.

The next six months that had followed was all about Finnick being there for you. He made sure you ate, he helped you find a hobby to help you process everything, he was there for you through all of it. And when your victory tour had arrived, you were almost yourself again.

That was until you had spoken to President Snow and everything you had any hopes for came crashing down. To become the Capitol’s Black Bird, he said. You were so shy and humble, you’re attractive too. President Snow thought you were desirable. And therefore, you must become an asset to the Capitol or he will kill everyone you love.

And you couldn’t have that.

That night when you had gotten back from your victory party, Finnick had noticed something was off about you and asked if you had spoken to President Snow. To which you began to cry. You were eighteen years old when you did your games, now being nineteen years old. You hadn’t had sex yet let alone your first kiss. A week later when the news had finally sunk in and you came to terms with it back in District 4, you lost your virginity to Finnick. He suggested the idea saying “I know what it’s like to have that choice taken away from you. You can say no of course but if you’d like, I am here.” So you shyly said yes. It was magical.

And friends with benefits situations were made. Whenever you guys had gone to the Capitol to entertain the Capitol citizens, you both would end up going at the same time, attending the same events. And when you’d get back to the penthouse, you both sought comfort in each other.

Three years later, at the 72nd Hunger Games, you and Finnick were mentors like you have been in the past three years. You both had just gotten back to the District Four Tribute suite with your fellow tributes from the tribute interviews. Everyone had made their ways to their bedrooms, knowing tomorrow would be the beginning of the Games. You unfortunately knew what that meant. Sponsors in the Capitol tend to place bets on their favorite tribute. However, in order for your tributes to get sponsors, you practically have to whore yourself out. It was disgusting but unfortunately something you were used to.

You felt saddened by the thought, knowing tomorrow your tributes will be in the arena and rather than actively helping them, you’ll be getting fucked by some random Capitol stranger in hopes they’ll sponsor your tributes. It was disgusting.

You had gotten yourself showered and into pajamas, wanting to wash off all of the makeup you were wearing. And when you were finished, you had gone to Finnick’s room. He understood how you felt as he currently has to go through the same thing, even doing it before you became a mentor. He likely did it when you were in your own games. You sighed before knocking on Finnick’s door.

A few minutes later, Finnick answered the door in just a towel wrapped around his torso. He gave a small smile before letting you into the room, closing the door behind you. “Hello,” He greeted, walking back into his bathroom.

“Hi,” Came the soft tone of your voice. Your cheeks were slightly red at the sight of Finnick. You’ve seen one another naked so many times and yet he never failed to make you blush. “I just didn’t feel like being alone, i-if that’s okay.” You said as you sat down on the bed.

Finnick walked back out of the bathroom in a pair of underwear, taking a seat next to you on the bed. “Of course that’s okay,” He replied, giving a soft smile. “Anything on your mind?”

You gave a small and sad smile. “Just what tomorrow brings.”

Finnick nodded in understanding, reaching an arm out to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. “It’s going to be tough. It always is.” He said, sighing. He pressed a kiss to your forehead which definitely made your heart flutter more than it should.

You didn’t reply, just allowing yourself that moment to be held by Finnick. You’d never admit it out loud, it would be too embarrassing, but you loved just being in his presence. You loved the feeling he gave you when you were with him. How he always listened to what you had to say, how he never failed to comfort you, just like you never failed to comfort him, he’s helped you through so much. And you couldn’t help the feelings you had for him. But with your current positions, a relationship would not be possible. And it was the sad truth.

You and Finnick sat there in silence for a few minutes until he placed his pointer finger and thumb under your chin, lifting your head up. “I’m going to kiss you, okay?” He murmured softly, his green eyes looking into your beautiful [color] one’s.

You simply nodded your head. And Finnick gently placed his lips on yours. His kisses were always so soft and gentle, like you were the most delicate thing in the world. It warms your heart. You kissed him back just as gently, your eyes closing naturally. Soon the kiss began to get more heated, his tongue exploring your mouth as you allowed it to. And eventually, Finnick’s hand was at the hem of your shirt. He pulled away briefly. “May I?” He asked breathlessly, asking for your permission to take your shirt off.

God he was perfect. You shyly nodded your head, biting your lip as you did so. Finnick gave a small smile as he lifted your shirt up, throwing it onto the floor. You weren’t wearing a bra underneath so your breasts were just exposed. “Can I touch you?” His voice held the same breathless tone as he asked.

“Yes.” Your voice was so soft and quiet.

Finnick leaned in to kiss you again, bringing his hands to grip your shoulders briefly before cupping your boobs. He kneaded the flesh, massaging them gently in his hand. You let out a small whimper into Finnick’s mouth as he began to play with your nipple while his hand played with the other one. You ran your hand through his hair, careful to not tug on it. Finnick pushed you down gently, laying you on the mattress. His mouth never leaving your boob as he leans on you.

He moves his mouth to your other breast, doing the same with it as he done previously so. You bit your lip to avoid moans escaping your mouth. You’ve been sleeping with him for so long and yet, you were still too shy to make noise for him. Finnick trailed his hand down your body, stopping at the hem of your pants. His green eyes look up at yours, as if asking for permission. And you nod your head in confirmation. He sneaks a hand into your pajama pants, realizing you weren’t wearing panties. “Going commando tonight, huh?” He teased against your skin.

You blushed. “Uh…” You bit your lip. Finnick simply chuckled as he began to kiss your chest and abdomen. His fingers trailed your slit, causing you to gasp as he spread your wetness around.

“You’re always so wet for me,” He murmured, kissing right above your naval. His thumb began to toy at your clit, rubbing it in sweet and slow circles. You continued to bite your lip as you inhaled sharply. He slowly eased a finger inside of you, causing you to whimper as he continued to rub your clit with his thumb. He immediately curled his finger, causing you to actually moan. You covered your mouth with your hand, embarrassed. “Don’t hide your moans from me, darling. I want to know that you feel good,” Finnick said reassuringly.

You were still quite shy, being embarrassed of making noise. Finnick moved his thumb off of your clit to give him better access to finger you. His finger moved slowly inside of you, hitting your g-spot so nicely. You closed your eyes as you relished in the pleasure. And after a few moments he added another finger and then a third. And you couldn’t help the small moans escaping your mouth as he fingered you. You felt the familiar clench in your abdomen as your orgasm approached, causing you to arch your back. “Cum for me darling, you’re doing so good,” Finnick praised, pressing a kiss on to your stomach.

When your thighs clamped shut, your walls contracting on his fingers and your body began to quiver as your orgasm overtook you, Finnick was praising you, telling you how beautiful you were and how lovely you felt around his fingers. It was actually quite magical. And when you came down from your high, you were breathless and couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped you as you looked at Finnick. His eyes were full of such…adoration and there was a softness to them. He looked almost as though he were in love. But you quickly pushed that thought away.

“Do you want to continue or are you done for the night?” Finnick asked softly, taking his hand out of your pants.

You bit your lip before replying. “Need you, Finnick.”

And with that, Finnick grinned. He stood up from the bed, standing at the end. He reached forward to grab the waistline of your pajama pants, pulling them off of your body as gently as possible before throwing them to the other side of his room. He took off his own boxers, revealing his cock to the cool air.

He crawled back on to the bed, hovering over you as you opened your legs to him. He held himself up by his arms. “You’re sure you want this, darling?” He asked you softly, looking into your beautiful eyes.

“Yes.” You nodded your head, reaching up to caress his cheek. Finnick kissed your wrist as he reached an arm in between the two of you, guiding his cock to your pussy. He spread your wetness around with his cock before lining up with your entrance. He leaned down to kiss you as he slowly eased himself into you.

You moaned into the kiss, wrapping an arm around Finnick’s neck. And as he entered you all the way, he pulled away slightly, leaning his forehead against yours. “Fuck you’re so tight.” He whispered, already breathless. You looked into his eyes, your heart fluttering in your chest. He gave you a few moments to adjust before he slowly began moving inside of you.

Finnick let out a soft moan as he thrusted slowly, leaning down to bury his face in your neck. Your other arm wrapped around Finnick’s shoulder as you moaned softly in his ear. The closeness to Finnick, the feeling of him inside of you, making you feel so good. You closed your eyes in pleasure as he fucked you slowly. It felt different than all the times you guys have had sex. In fact, it felt very similarly to when you had lost your virginity to him.

Finnick began to move a little bit faster, still maintaining a slow pace as he relished in the pleasure of your wet cunt on his cock. “You feel so good, baby.” He murmured, moving his face to look you in the eyes.

You looked up at him as he continued to thrust into you. Your cheeks were red, your hair was sprawled out on the pillow. You looked absolutely beautiful to Finnick. And he looked so handsome as well. His cheeks were dusted red, his eyes were just so comforting and warm as you looked up at him. He always made you feel so good and just so wonderful. And you couldn’t help it when you moaned out “I love you,” in such a soft tone.

Finnick froze, stopping his movements as he heard you. “W-what did you say?” he stuttered as his heart fluttered in his chest.

Your eyes widened as you realized what you had said. “I-uh” Your heart was beating fast, suddenly worried about ruining this moment and even your friendship with Finnick. But as you looked up into his green eyes, you could see a flicker of hope. “I-I said I love you.” You whispered.

And suddenly Finnick whines, thrusting into you faster. “Fuck. I love you so much, baby,” He says, leaning down to kiss you. You whine and moan, arching your back as he fucks you so deeply. Finnick grabs your hand with his, intertwining your fingers as he holds them near your head. He pulls away from the kiss, breathing heavily with his forehead on yours. “I love you,” He murmurs.

You look up at him so prettily, your eyes glistening with tears of pleasure and also of emotion. “I love you,” you murmured back, breathing just as heavily as he was.

Finnick’s pace quickened as he fucked into you hard. It was all so passionate and romantic as emotions were high. Your second orgasm of the night was approaching as you felt that pressure in your lower abdomen. Finnick must’ve been getting close too as he moaned, repeating the words “I love you” over and over again as he kisses your neck.

And after a few more thrusts, you’re cumming on his cock, your walls clenching around his member so tightly. Your fingers grasped his as your eyes closed in pleasure and you’re moaning. Shortly after, Finnick is cumming deep inside of you, burying his face in your shoulder, with a loud moan.

You both stayed like that for awhile, coming down from your orgasms as you stayed close to one another. And after a few minutes, Finnick pulled out of you, causing you to whine, but he stayed on top of you. He held himself up to look into your eyes. “Did you really mean it?” He asked, his tone holding a level of vulnerability to it.

You looked up at him and nodded your head. “I’ve loved you since I came out of the arena.” You murmured.

And Finnick couldn’t help it when his eyes began to water. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly to push away the tears before looking back at you. He cleared his throat. “I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N.” He said, removing his hand from yours to run it through your hair before caressing your face. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you so very much, Finnick.” You said, reaching your hand up to his face as well.

And thus began your relationship with Finnick. You guys stayed relatively the same but now with your feelings out in the open, you could enjoy more romantic evenings together in District Four. And every time either of you had to go to the Capitol, the other was always there to comfort them. You guys loved each other more than anything in the world.

Which is why it made it hard when you were both chosen for the 75th Annual Hunger Games.

END.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Aftermath || LN4 {2}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: Lando's new role of taking care of you is one he takes very seriously. Warnings: 18+ only, grief and loss, depression WC: 2.6k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

Lando felt useless as he watched you cry in your sleep, the quiet whimpers making him hate himself even more. He should have come by and checked in on you, he should have been a better friend. He had foolishly convinced himself that you were better off without his interference since all he did was remind you of what you lost. 

He remembered how hard it had been to get back into his race car for the first time after the funeral and not see René in the McLaren next to him. It had been a gut punch that was more shocking to his system than the weight of the casket he had carried on his shoulder. Whatever loss he was feeling could only be tenfold for you and he didn’t want to make it worse.

Now he wished he could go back in time and save you from yourself, but all he could do was plan to help you move forward.

He grabbed a blanket from inside the ottoman and draped it over you, the very same one he used countless times when it got too late and he would crash on the couch after a movie night or BBQ. It was like a mausoleum of memories and he could feel himself tearing up as he walked around the room opening the curtains and windows for some much needed fresh air. 

Stepping out onto the terrace he found the pool you had loved to swim in daily was ruddy brown and the once pristine garden that you had tended to was overgrown with vines creeping up the stonework of the house. Anger flooded him and he pulled his phone out. 

“Why the hell did no one invite Y/N?” he growled when his team principal answered the phone. “She didn’t even know about René's memorial.”

“Look, take a breath, I know it’s upsetting but the FIA didn’t feel comfortable having her there after her accusations last year.”

Lando laughed humorlessly as he dragged a hand through his hair. “Uncomfortable? Fucking unbelievable. Of course they are uncomfortable, they pretty much killed him.”

“Lando…” Andrea started to warn him.

“I know, I know.” Lando took a deep breath. “Is there really a ‘surviving spouse’ clause in our contracts?”

“It’s not exactly easy to get life insurance for you guys, too much risk,” Andrea confirmed. “Look, I’m not going to say stay away from her, but be discreet, we don’t need to be pissing off the FIA right now. Pictures of your car at her house is not discreet.”

Lando frowned as the call ended and he opened instagram to see he had been tagged in a photo.

Only moments later did his phone vibrate with a What’s App message from his old teammate, Daniel Riccardo.

It was still daytime when you woke up on the couch to find all the curtains and windows open wide. Your neck protested the movement of getting up but it was quickly overpowered by the pain shooting down your legs and you remembered why you drank so much in the first place.

“Lando?” you called out, wondering where he was as you stood up on shaky legs.

You searched the house and found the carpet in your bedroom covered in foam cleaner to try get the bloodstains out and all the glass had been vacuumed up too. Other than that, there was no sign of Lando at all so you walked outside and followed the sounds of quiet cursing in the backyard.

“Is that a good idea?” you asked as you sheltered your eyes from the harsh sun and looked up at a shirtless Lando scaling an unstable ladder.

“Probably not,” he shot back, leaning out with a pair of clippers to cut the vines climbing the house. “Will it stop me? No.”

Rolling your eyes, you stepped into the garden bed and grabbed hold of the ladder to try stabilise while you looked around and saw he had already mowed the lawn. 

“You must still be single then I take it,” you said with a shake of your head. “You never had this much time to waste when you had a girlfriend.”

“First of all, it’s not a waste of my time. And secondly, well, yeah, okay, I am single. But that’s not the point and not why I’m doing this.” He nearly lost his balance as he hacked at a stubborn vine and scrambled to cling to the ladder. “Maybe I’ll call an arborist. And someone to clean the pool too.”

“Stop, please, you don’t need to do any of that.”

“I know,” he said as he jumped down and used his discarded shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. “I want to.” He nodded his head back to the house. “Food’s ready, I was waiting on a sleeping beauty to wake up.”

You self consciously touched your hair at the comment and stepped away before he followed but he easily caught your hand.

“Don’t do that,” he said with a shake of his head. “Don’t shy away. You still look beautiful, and I am almost decent at untangling curls so we will tackle that whole situation after you have eaten something.”

“Lando, Lan, La-”

He shoved the spoon into your mouth with a laugh before dunking it back into the soup bowl and starting the aeroplane sounds again. “Here comes another one.”

“I’m going to shove that spoon up your ars-” He took the opportunity to get it past your lips again and you thumped him on the arm. “I can fucking feed myself. Give me that.” 

You swiped the spoon out his hand as he doubled over laughing and before you knew it a foreign sound bubbled from your chest and your cheeks ached as a smile tugged at the forgotten muscles. Lando froze at the sound before a slow smile broke over his face as he sat back in his seat like he had witnessed a miracle. 

“Stop staring, you’re making it weird,” you murmured as you took another mouthful of the surprisingly good soup. 

“For a while I didn’t think I would hear that again.” He smiled to himself as he stirred his soup. “You couldn’t go a minute without laughing and joking over something stupid.”

“That’s because you and René were always doing something stupid.” His name slipped past without a thought but the moment it filled the room you felt the air leave and the spoon trembled in your fingers. 

Your chair clattered backwards as you rose swiftly and covered your lips as if you could take it back.

You spun on your heel almost tripping over the chair as you rushed down the hallway. The back door you passed offered an escape from the suffocating weight on your chest but instead you ran deeper into the house, your feet flying as you spiralled down the stairs to the converted basement. You slammed into the door and it flung open as you burst into the space you hadn’t dared open in a year. 

This place wasn’t just his, it was an extension of him. The shelves were lined with his helmets, his team shirts hung on the walls. The trophies in glass cases were dull and dust clung to every surface. 

But in the cold, still air you could smell his lingering scent from the hours he spent playing on the sim set up in the corner. You closed your eyes and felt the air shift around you, feeling his presence enveloping you and chasing away the bone-numbing chill you had endured for 365 days.

“It’s finally real, Lando,” you whispered, knowing he was standing in the doorway watching your back. “When the house was silent I could pretend he was down here, playing iRacing or Gran Turismo. I could fucking pretend…that I wasn’t alone. If I didn’t call his name then I could pretend that’s why he doesn't answer me.”

Your vision blurred and when a pair of strong arms wrapped around your body you could pretend one last time that it was him holding you. It was the closest to a goodbye you would have.

“He’s gone.” You sighed and swallowed the lump in your throat knowing what you needed to do but somehow no longer finding the thought as daunting as you once did. “No more pretending.”

“I’ll try be gentle,” Lando promised as he stood behind you, armed with a hairbrush. 

He had poured a bottle of conditioner onto the bird's nest on your head and let it absorb for almost an hour before working up the courage to try and detangle it. While the conditioner was hopefully working its magic, he had helped to dust and polish René’s trophies, doing most of the work while you silently mourned the fantasy you had lived in. 

“Just do it,” you ordered as you locked eyes with him in the bathroom mirror.

“Here goes nothing.”

Your neck ached and your scalp burned by the end, and there was a huge pile of hair balls he had pulled off the hairbrush, but finally he was able to drag the brush relatively cleanly through your hair. 

“See, who’s the man?” he grinned as he flipped the brush confidently in his hand.

You rewarded him with a small smile in the mirror before turning and wrapping your arms around his narrow waist. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” he said as his own arms encased you and he pressed a friendly kiss to your hairline. “Ugh, it smells like coconut but doesn’t taste like it.”

You laughed and stepped back with a wave to the door. “Go on, let me wash it out.”

It took far longer than you expected for your hair to finally feel clean but eventually you were satisfied with it and got out of the shower, wrapping the towel around your body. Your fingers automatically reached for a shirt of René’s when you opened the closet but something had changed in the basement. 

You grabbed a handful of his clothes and pulled them from the closet, coathangers flinging off in all directions, before grabbing another and another. 

“Hey, woah!” Lando skidded into the room thinking you were having another meltdown. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“If I keep them,” you panted as the small effort already exhausted you, “it’s all I will wear again, I just know it. I have to get rid of them.”

“Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly.

You sent him a peeved glare before opening the drawers next and grabbing the stack of sweatpants he had amassed over the years. “Yes!”

“Look,” he said softly as he raised his hands with the universal sign of peace, “why don’t we go and get some boxes, pack them up, and then you sleep on it before doing anything drastic?”

“I’m not going to change my mind, Lan.”

You did change your mind. 

You woke up at 3am and sprinted through the house to the front door, tripping over Lando’s leg that hung off the couch and waking him up with one hell of a fright. He burst onto his feet after pulling himself off the ground and his wild curls swung as he looked around for some threat. 

Seeing it was just you looking equally dishevelled, he grabbed your shoulders and bent his knees so he was at the same height. “Are you alright?”

“Tell me you didn’t throw them,” you begged as your rapid breathing sent stars dancing around your vision. “Please, please, please.”

“What? René’s clothes?” he asked as he wiped the sleep from his eyes before pointing to the door on the other side of the living room. “Of course not, they’re in the garage.”

The relief was immediate and you sagged against his warm chest only to notice he had taken his shirt off to sleep. Clearing your throat, you straightened up stiffly and frowned. “But I asked you to dump them…”

“I know, and if you still wanted that in the morning I would have done it.” He sighed and took a seat on the makeshift bed he made on the couch despite there being plenty of spare bedrooms in the house. He patted the space beside him and you took a seat, the only warmth coming from his arm touching yours. “It’s going to take time, Y/N. Moving on doesn’t just happen overnight, even when you are ready to.”

“You sound like a shrink.”

His shoulders bounced with a small laugh and he fell back into the cushions, pulling you with him. “Mandatory counselling sessions, courtesy of Zak. Everyone got them, and I think it helped. Maybe you cou-”

“Don’t push it, just be proud you got me out of bed today.”

“Hmmm, but then I got you drunk.”

You looked up to see he wasn’t happy about that and you didn’t like seeing that look on his face. “But then you brushed my hair.”

A small sleepy smile grew on his face as he looked at your hair that was a little messy after sleeping on it but nothing compared to what it was before. “I always liked your hair.”

“I always liked yours,” you admitted as you eyed the curls that fell over his forehead. “I wondered if they were as soft as they looked.”

He tipped his head down for you and you reached up, running your fingers through them leaving ringlets twirling closed again. Even when you pulled one out straight, the moment you released the strands they bounced back into shape. 

“Huh,” you chuckled as you did it again. “I thought you used hairspray to keep them perfectly curled.”

“As if I have time for that kind of maintenance,” he muttered drowsily as he closed his eyes and let you play with his hair. “That feels nice.”

“You’re no better than a house cat.”

He cosied deeper into the couch to get comfortable as he stretched his long legs out in front of him, his head falling onto your shoulder while you continued massaging his head. Just when you thought he was asleep, he let out a quiet, “Meow.”

Laughter filled the still air of the night and he peeked an eye open to watch you find joy for the second time in one day, a proud grin written on his face. “I missed your laugh.”

“Me too,” you admitted after feeling how light it made your pain, if only for a moment.

“I would go to the zoo and visit the hyenas when I really missed the sound.”

More laughter grew in your belly and you punched him repeatedly on the arm as the loud bursts escaped. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he gasped between his own fit of laughter before catching your hands and holding them above his head to stop your pitiful attack. “I just wanted to hear it again.”

You froze as you realised how close you were to him, your face only inches from his and his full lips so close to yours. Your heart stammered as his tongue peeked out as he licked his lips and you cleared your throat as you pulled away, shattering the strange moment.

“I’m, uh, I’m going to go back to bed,” you muttered weakly as you stumbled off the couch. 

He looked like he was going to say something as he sat up straight but his lips closed again and he nodded, settling for a polite, “Sweet dreams.”

“You too, Lando. And thank you again, for being here.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said as he settled back into the blankets and covered his very distracting body. “I should have been here sooner.”

You could have sworn you heard him whisper something more as you walked back down the hall.

“And I’m not leaving you again.”

Click here for part three.

[maleyanderecafe]

I tried to escape from being a villainous daughter but the earnest good-natured Yandere Highness did not give me the peace I wanted (Manga)

Created by: Hatori Hato

Genre: Isekai/Smut

If you remember me translating some of their other works I will never let you go, so please be preyed on by me ~ The younger man I met in the countryside was a former Yandere boy from hell~ and Please Know That I’m Really Jealous ~A Former Yandere Boy Can Be Brutal To Get Married, I've come back and holy it is so difficult to translate isekai things. The same face is also killing me internally. Nevertheless, here's a good 70 pages of yandere smut stuff.

The story starts out with Mei worried about meeting up with one of the capture targets, before explaining how she was isekaied into this world, an r18 otome fantasy. Her goal is to basically get a harem route, however, she has to compete with two other villianesses, Ann and Julia who are much better at the game then him. Mei has died about four times, as she is often killed by the other villiannesses. While greeting Julia, she is interrupted by Prince Remy (yes, that's his name) who is happy to be with Mei. Mei refuses to dance with Prince Remy as he doesn't want to go to that route, but ends up sleeping with Prince Remy. A couple months pass and she seems to be living happily though she hasn't really met with the other capture targets. Soon after meeting up with Prince Remy, she dies after being beheaded by one of the villianesses, only to reincarnate the fifth time. She decides to live at home secluded from the outside world and happily does for many years until Prince Remy comes to visit. Prince Remy basically traps Mei in a room using a magic seal and has sex with her. He reveals that he remembers his past lives as well, wanting to protect Mei from the world. The next day while Mei is trying to escape, Prince Remy gives her a box that has the hairs of all the capture targets and villianesses. Mei realizes that the reason she's had such a peaceful life was because of Remy and the two have sex. While having sex, Mei realizes that she actually was really afraid of dying in all of her lives and the prince makes her vow to be with him forever. We learn soon after that the Prince basically forced the capture target Mage, Leo to create the spell, the one that locks them into the room and the one that bounds the Prince and Mei for the next lifetime, which ends up sucking up all of the Mage's powers forcing him to retire as a mage. While Prince Remy doesn't kill them thanks to his promise with Mei, he does torture Leo afterwards. The two have sex with each other one last time.

I got to say that this artist's same face is really uh, noticeable in this smut. I know a lot of smut artists (and just artists in general) tend to have problem with same face but man... It's pretty jarring. The plot on this one is more interesting than the two snake ones I will say, even if it is an isekai. The concept of having to fight with two other people in an isekai to get a harem ending is actually a pretty interesting concept, though of course the main character is the "weakest" out of them not wanting to even get the harem ending at one point, just wanting to survive. I will say that the way the plot goes is very confusing- it jumps between time so easily that it's easy to get confused. Especially when she dies in her fourth life, I didn't even realize that she had died until they mentioned it straight after and they don't even show any of the moments of what led to her death or anything. And the fact she just stayed inside for years on end without issue is very strange, especially to this world. We don't even know what technically happened to either of the other villianesses, whether or not they died or were tortured or get jailed. I also don't really know what took her so long to realize that this guy has memories of their past life together since it seemed pretty obvious the first time they met in this smut that they have. I also don't know why it took her so long to, you know, not deal with getting a harem route. She was murdered like 4 different times before she realized she could just be in the house, which has got to be painful considering she got beheaded once and poisoned once, I feel like you should have just stuck with the staying at home kind of thing first. But who knows after all, this is a smut and you shouldn't think about it.

Prince Remy, despite having a pretty dumb name, is a protective yandere which is different then Ren in the previous iterations. It makes sense that after seeing Mei die so many times because she was too kind or not ruthless enough that he would become overprotective, locking her in a room (through magic) and torturing anyone that hurt her. I do like the concept of a yandere that becomes the way they are because they have to protect their love. In this case, it's watching and failing to protect her from being beheaded (and possibly poisoned, though I'm not sure how long or even when Prince Remy retained his memory from), probably drove him to be overprotective and lock her up. I do like this concept of a yandere since it's the darling's actions that lead him to be overprotective.

At some point I'll probably be ready to do the Omegaverse yandere that this author has made but it will take me a bit so just be patient. It's weirdly complicated for a smut plot and honestly is confusing with the way it jumps around and inserts sex scenes in places it doesn't really need to be, but you know, smut is smut so.

[thedragonchilde]

"Chibodee has lit a fire in Domon's soul": a ship manifesto years in the making

For my followers who have been wondering what the hell I've been on about, here you are.

Before I start, a quick rundown for the newbies, of the show and the characters of the hour, as is customary for ship manifestos:

Earth has been ravaged by war, so all the nations created space colonies, and everyone who could afford it fled to them. In order to try and 'fix' the problem of war, they have decided to settle their differences by way of the Gundam Fight. The Fight happens every four years, and calls for every country to send a Gundam and a fighter to control it, and they spend a year battling it out, and the last one standing gives his nation the right to rule all the others for the next four years.

Earth is the ring.

The other thing to know is the presence of a secret quasi-mystical society called the Shuffle Alliance, which has existed throughout time for the purpose of overseeing wars and making sure humanity survives. There are five at any given time, mapped to card ranks, and they are magically 'chosen' rather than deciding to join. They are linked together by crests on their hands and an ill-explained empathic bond.

Domon Kasshu is our intrepid main character, and holds rank King of Hearts. He is 20 at the start of the Fight, and has been training as a fighter since he was 10. His father was sentenced to stasis by the government for alleged treason, and he wants to win so he can make a bid to reverse that. He broods quite a bit, but his anger is too red-hot to let that stay for long. He's LOUD and PASSIONATE and FEELS A LOT OF THINGS and SHOUTS A LOT. He's also a giant child sometimes, and that's not always a bad thing, particularly when he interacts with children. Also, he has a sexy suit-up sequence to rival Sailor Moon.

Chibodee Crockett is also 20, and holds rank Queen of Spades. He actually grew up an orphan on Earth (specifically NYC), but was discovered by talent scouts after a street fight and taken to the colony to be trained. He makes a name for himself as a professional boxer, and is undefeated by the start of the Fight. He is literally the rags-to-riches American Dream, and he seizes that, aiming to win the Fight as a symbol to give hope to those still living on Earth. He is loud and impulsive and naturally flirtatious, and has a heart of gold. And, you know, an 80s metal hairdo.

-

So why do I find this dynamic compelling? Let's start with what canon gives us.

In Chibodee's debut episode, they don't get off to the best start (a suckerpunch is not a meet-cute), and miscommunication induced by the Neo-American government makes it worse. But things get immediately friendlier once the two are able to have their match and communicate in the best way they know how. Domon wins the bout, and Chibodee doesn't handle the loss well, insisting that he's let down his fans. Now, we already know from the series opener that Domon has no qualms with leaving a situation that he feels isn't his business - so it stands out to me that Domon refuses to knock Chibodee out of the tournament, and in fact encourages him to keep fighting, even calling him “one of the good guys”.

This mercy must have stood out to Chibodee as well, because in “Prepare to Fight! Desperate Fugitive” he is downright obsessed with finding Domon again for a rematch, getting his team to scout the area and even going along with Neo-Mexico’s plan to use him just for the publicity. Even for the purposes of revenge as he claims, that's a lot of time and effort spent pursuing one guy. Their interaction is only in the last leg of the episode - Chibodee attempts to muscle in on Domon's match, then says he's “lost all respect” for Domon when he thinks Neo-Mexico’s Chico has been killed, implying that he respected Domon in the first place despite everything. When he figures out what the plan actually is, he thinks it's incredibly clever.

Then we get to the Guyana Highlands training arc. Our five-man band has just become the newest Shuffle Alliance, though they're still figuring out what that means and how they're tied to each other.

Right out of the gate, the narrator refers to Chibodee as Domon's “destined rival”. And the characters seem to agree! If self-proclaimed mentor Schwarz wants Domon to train against someone, he has plenty of choices, including two who fought him to a draw, but for whatever reason he decides Chibodee is the best option - and he secretly encourages Chibodee's team to come to the same conclusion.

When Chibodee arrives and finds Domon, instead of announcing himself, he just watches Domon train (shirtless, mind you) for long enough that the weather turns from sunny and beautiful to a thunderstorm.

Eventually, he does announce his presence, and they face off in the rain - and it's not just the lightning that's electric, as they excitedly comment on each other's technique and reenergize their fighting spirit, just as Schwarz planned. (In fact, Domon is so into the fight that he needs to be told there's an SOS signal from their support teams!)

It's some time later before we see Chibodee again, and he's either stayed in the highlands the whole time or left and came back, and either option is damning. The fledgling Shuffle Alliance has gathered, drawn to Domon, who’s gone off on his own without a word. Aside from George's half-baked excuse about wanting to protect Rain from wild beasts, the others are fairly upfront about wanting to see Domon, if only to fight him. But Chibodee gets oddly defensive and claims he just has nothing better to do.

When Domon returns from his training, his former teacher Master Asia strikes with the self-regenerating Devil Gundam, and the group has to find their way out. While they're strategizing, Chibodee makes a suggestion, then blushes and hurriedly assures Domon that he's “not doing this for you!” as if anyone would take it that way.

Eventually, they separate and reunite in Neo-Hong Kong for the tournament finals. Their next big interaction is in “Domon Targeted! The Assassin’s Staff”, where Domon is caught in the crosshairs of Neo-Nepal’s Kyral, who tries to assassinate him ahead of his next match. There is a very scary run-in with Kyral in broad daylight, which ends with Domon's shoulder slashed open. Chibodee comes to the rescue, laying Domon across his lap as he drives to help - at least until he flips the car in the chaos.

They do eventually get help, but Domon still has to face Kyral in the ring. For his part, Chibodee has decided to hang around Domon's lodgings for the entire two days between the attack and the match. Guilty? Worried? Feeling a little protective?

I won't say much about ���Dazzling Power of the Clown! Get Mad, Gundam Maxter” here, except to ask: when Chibodee goes out that night and has his first meltdown, why is it Domon that the girls call to check on him?

As is the nature of tournaments, Domon has to face off against the other members of the Shuffle Alliance. He appeals to their bond as the Shuffle Alliance, but they each put their reasons for entering the tournament first, and will only come back around to the group once they've decisively faced Domon. Chibodee actually sounds pretty anguished about this, and, presumably in the interest of good sportsmanship, shows Domon his newest technique so he knows what he's up against.

Here are just a few real honest to God quotes from their match:

“Get ready for this, baby!”

“--and most of all, it's for you!”

“Your hunger ignited a fire within me”

“You sure know how to make me happy, Chibodee Crockett!”

“Chibodee has lit a fire in Domon's soul”

“I can feel your dream”

Domon wins with a technique that hasn't been seen before or since, and in fact manages to knock Chibodee out for a few seconds! When Domon reaches out to help him up, it is in shoujo soft focus. Again, Chibodee is discouraged, and again Domon tells him that he hasn't let his fans down, and then reassures him that the fight was great and they can rematch any time he wants. It's a lovely side of Domon we don't always get to see, being literally and figuratively supportive.

Eventually, we get to the battle royale, a winner-take-all match on an enclosed island, where of course the Devil Gundam has been resurrected and infected many of the participants. The Shuffle Alliance takes on foes to clear the way for Domon to go to the center. I mention this because in the span of less than a year, Chibodee has gone from ostensibly hating Domon to being willing to die for him.

Domon wins the tournament, but that's not the end of his troubles, as Rain, after having left Domon, is taken by the military to power the Devil Gundam. The emergency signal has the Shuffle Alliance going to Domon about it (and at least in the dub Chibodee shouts his name in this beautiful breathless, anguished way). Domon at first refuses to go after Rain, wanting to respect her wish not to see him again. But the others have seen the burgeoning romantic tension between Domon and Rain, and so Chibodee tries to motivate him by basically saying “don't be an idiot, either you go or I will”. Eventually Domon is convinced, and the rest of the group is not far behind.

Let me preface this part by saying it's not uncommon for other fighters to join in Domon's words in the midst of battle, demonstrating the connection between them brought about by 'communicating with your fists'. But only once does this happen when it's not part of an attack. The five of them have a terrible battle ahead of them, and at one of their lowest points, it is Chibodee who brings out Domon's words as a motivator.

There is a lull in between bouts, in which Domon asks the others why they followed him. They respond more or less with “it's fun to fight alongside you”, and Chibodee in particular phrases it in a ridiculous way that makes everyone laugh for an awkward amount of time because it's a scary moment and nobody wants to say “we care about you”.

Domon has to fight the last leg alone, not that the others didn't try to follow him, and rather than attack Rain, he disentangles her from the Devil Gundam with the power of love, in the most literal way. Now, of course, during his big confession, we get reaction shots of the others, and I have to say Chibodee looks rather more upset than expected for such a scene.

Now wait, you may say! Domon has a canon romance, one that literally saves the day, so what are we doing here?

Well, this is not the place for my thoughts on Domon/Rain. This is, however, a place for embracing transformative fandom. All I'm definitely saying here is that I find the Domon/Chibodee dynamic compelling, and there's maybe a canon precedent for Chibodee having caught feelings. But this is fanfic, so anything goes; maybe this is an alternate timeline, or maybe you prefer to write Rain with someone else anyway, or maybe the three of them come to an arrangement.

What I know is that they have a bond that the narrative itself acknowledges, one in which they consistently build each other up. They have a lot in common temperamentally, being evenly matched in hot-bloodedness, but their attitudes are sort of the inverse of each other - Domon is serious and melancholy, but deep down is trusting and wants to believe the best of people, where Chibodee keeps things light and devil-may-care, but he's a little more world-weary, a little more easily discouraged - and this makes them interesting foils. I just think there is a lot of unexplored potential in their relationship - especially in adding a romantic/sexual dimension to both the Shuffle Alliance empathy and ‘communicating with your fists’ - and I want to think I'm not the only one who sees it.

-

This is normally the part where I recommend other fanwork, but at the time of writing this, there are four works under this ship tag, one of them is mine, and two are Domon/multiple. There is a little bit of art on pixiv under the チボドモ tag. I know this is a thirty-year-old anime, but I also know that hero/friendly rival is usually slasher catnip, as is dudes in latex saying things like “you sure know how to make me happy” to each other.

[ghostofthefourthtemple]

Hello, could you make a scenario or headcannon where the bronze knights when they were children had partners who were also children sent to train, they separate them to take them to their places training and meet again at the galactic tournament where they are 13 years old?

Hi!

Here's the request you made. I postponed the reunion with Ikki a bit, since the poor boy doesn't have a moment to rest between the start of the Galaxian War and the end of the battle against the Golden Knights. I hope you enjoy the headcanons.

Take care of yourself and have a nice days!

Introduction :

You had expected everything from her, but this? After spending 6 years in hell, she sends you into battle for a suit of golden armor as if you were nothing more than toy soldiers created for her amusement. To top it all off, most of the children who were sent to train are dead, and you haven't heard from your closest friends in 6 years, so you don't know if they're alive or part of the mass of children who were sacrificed. As you enter the arena where the fights are about to take place, melancholy, worry and guilt gnaw at you. Melancholy, for the few good memories you have of your friends, worry about not finding them and guilt, because wishing for the survival of some is like preferring the death of others. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, and the sound of the crowd coming from the four corners of the world to watch kids killing each other twists your eardrums. The Kido girl seems to have dropped an insane amount of money to build this arena and broadcast her fights around the world, and you don't really know whether you're disgusted or horrified by this news.

You quickly notice Seiya, but didn't have time to talk to him before he engaged in the first battle with Geki. You watch the fight unfold with apprehension and sigh with relief when Seiya escapes without injury. He doesn't seem to have changed much since the last time you saw him, he's as feisty and stubborn as ever. You take advantage of the fight between Jabu and Ban to go and talk to Seiya, who is resting away from the others.

Seiya :

It took him a good ten seconds to recognize you. Between the change in your haircut, your armor, the inches and muscles you'd put on, you didn't look much like the friend he remembered. However, as soon as he recognizes you, a smile appears on his face and he immediately comes to meet you.

You'll be in each other's arms with immense relief. On learning that many had not survived their training, Seiya had feared that you might be one of old Kido's many victims, and the possibility saddened him so much that he didn't dare think about it seriously. Seeing you there, alive and as healthy as you could be after such hard training, is very reassuring. Even though he's still very worried about not hearing from his sister, he feels reassured to see you alive.

Neither he nor you really knew what to say. You've spent so much time apart and so much has happened since you split up. It's impossible to know where to start. The two of you remain silent for a brief moment in the midst of the din, without speaking.

Then, Seiya begins to speak. He tells you briefly about his training and his master, and about the near-murder he suffered just before leaving Greece, before asking you about what happened to you. He wants to know more about your master, where you trained, how you got your armor. You both know you probably won't have time to answer all his questions, but you do your best to satisfy his curiosity. You take advantage of a pause in the discussion to ask him a question about his sister, and his face immediately darkens.

He tells you about his concern for her following her disappearance and Saori's blackmail, who refuses to help him with his research if he doesn't take part in the fight. You immediately offer to help her find it if he needs it.

“If they had given me a yen every time they manipulated us, I'd be a billionaire.” you say to him as the next match between the Swan and Ichi approaches. Seiya laughs at your joke.

His arrival was remarkable, to say the least. He had changed a lot and no longer looked like the sweet, sensitive little boy you remembered, but you would have recognized him in a thousand. You watched his fight with Ichi with growing concern, wondering how such a gentle boy could have become so cold. But, as they say, sometimes you have to take the bull by the horns. Hyôga didn't look welcoming, but you were close back then and there had to be an explanation for such a drastic change in character. Hyôga had sat down away from everyone and didn't seem to want to speak to anyone. You approached each other with a smile, despite the worried glances of your comrades and the signs to move away that some were giving you.

Hyôga :

His aggressive air softened slightly when he recognized you, and despite your comrades' fears that he might attack you, he did not. You could have sat next to him and after a moment's, seeing that he wasn't trying to talk to yousilence you tried to start a discussion. You talk about a bit of everything: your master, your training, the friends you made there, the difficulties you went through. When you try to ask him questions, he only answers vaguely.

He'd love to be able to ignore you - after all, he was sent here to kill everyone, and he's sure that if he listens to you too much, you'll be able to change his mind. Your voice isn't aggressive, despite the threats he made when he arrived and his coldness towards you, it's… pleasant. He can already feel his resolve wavering, yet he must carry out the mission entrusted to him.

Despite his best efforts to resist, he ends up asking you why you're taking part in this tournament. Don't you know that your armor must not serve your personal ambitions? He doesn't understand why you disobey the sanctuary and the last thing he wants is to be forced to hurt you at some point. Why are you doing this? It would be much simpler if you were to give up immediately, and come with him to Siberia, where he's ready to speak on your behalf at the shrine.

You simply shrugged before explaining why you had no choice but to take part in the tournament. Even if he doesn't seem convinced by your explanation, he doesn't seem angry with you either, and simply sighs with a doubt in his mind. He'd come here convinced that he'd be able to kill everyone and leave, but he realizes that he probably won't be able to… he couldn't kill you, the idea sounds horrible.

With no other option, he starts talking to you. He has to save you. He talks to you a lot about the shrine and his master. He really doesn't want to hurt you, despite the orders he's received from the sanctuary and and he hopes to convince you not to take part in this tournament, which will endanger you at some point. After all, the sanctuary won't let this provocation go unpunished for long.

After entering the large arena, you looked around for a moment before spotting Shiryû. He was sitting calmly on one of the benches, waiting for his turn to fight. His hair had grown a lot since you'd last seen him, but he didn't look much different from what you remembered and his gaze seemed focused on the fight between Seiya and Geki, and you hesitated for a brief moment before deciding to go and meet him.

Shiryû :

He immediately stood up when he recognized you, and a smile spread across his face. He had feared that you hadn't survived your training, so he's very relieved to see you in good health. In any case, from what he can see, you don't look unwell and that's probably the best news of the day for him. The first few moments are a little awkward: he doesn't know what to say, what to do, so much time has passed since he last saw you that he doesn't really know how to react. After a moment's hesitation, he gives you a hug.

Once the discomfort has passed, he asks you questions about you. Where were you? Did your training go well and was your master kind to you? He knows that his last few years have been very difficult for a lot of people, and he feels a little uncomfortable sometimes at having come across a master as kind as his own. He's been very concerned about you all these years, and he listens carefully to all the answers you give him. When you start asking him questions of your own, he doesn't hesitate for a second to answer them.

He's full of praise for his master and the friend he's made at his training site. In fact, Shiryu seems happier now than before he left. It was as if the hell that had been his life in the orphanage had been soothed by his life in China. He promises to take you to meet his master and his friend as soon as he gets the chance. Maybe you could go and live in China together if you don't know where to go after the tournament, he'll welcome you there with open arms.

You're interrupted when the time comes for him to fight Seiya. A fight in which you feared you'd lose him, even though you'd only just found him. You accompany his with Shunrei you've just met to hospital after the fight.

During the time you spend at his bedside in the hospital, waiting for him to wake up, you have the opportunity to meet Shunrei. She tells you that Shiryû has talked a lot about you. She also tells you more about his training at Rozan.

Shun stood discreetly to one side and you couldn't help but sigh with relief when you saw him. It's not that you doubt his abilities, but Shun has always been the gentlest and kindest of you all, and you've feared all these years that he wouldn't come back from his training alive… or changed forever by the trauma. But he's here, alive and well, and while he's put on muscle and inches, he still looks as sweet and gentle as ever. You quickly approach him to talk.

Shun :

His eyes lit up as soon as he recognized you, and he didn't hesitate for a second to come over and give you a big hug. He didn't know if you'd survived your training and was beginning to fear that you hadn't when you didn't show up. Your arrival relieves him of a great anxiety.

You had a lot to talk about, but not enough time or peace. The crowd continued to roar with each fight, and you could barely hear each other speak. In spite of everything, Shun asks you about everything that's happened to you since you left, while repeating how happy he is to see you alive and well. His questions are mainly about your training and your master, and he wants to know if you've managed to make friends and if you didn't suffer too much alone there.

When you ask him questions about himself and what's happened to him over the past 6 years. At first, he hesitates a little before answering you. He talks a lot about his master and the friend he's made, and you can see that underneath his gentleness he's gained confidence. He seems happy to be back here with you, even if his smile seems to be hiding something and his gaze is searching for someone all around you. It doesn't take you long to figure out who Shun is still looking for.

When you asked him if he'd heard from his brother, he simply shrugged and his face darkened. He had hoped to find him here, as you had, but… he explained that he hadn't heard from him since he arrived. He can't help but tell you how worried he is; his brother promised to meet him here, but he's still not there. You waste no time in promising to help him find it if he needs it, and his face lights up at the idea. He can't find the words to express how relieved he is by your proposal.

You'd been feeling a strange tension since the start of the tournament without really knowing why, but it all made sense when he appeared. You widened your eyes as you recognized him, but didn't have time to do much more as Ikki had already disappeared with the golden armor. It was a stunning entrance, to say the least, and everyone seems to agree with you. Unlike the others, however, you're really worried; Ikki had always been a brawler, but not a mean one, and even less cruel. His behavior was therefore totally unexpected, especially towards Shun.

Ikki :

It was quite difficult to catch him for a chat. You've spent more time chasing pieces of golden armor than talking to him, and the battles you've had to fight against him haven't helped. You're worried about him, as are the others, but Ikki is burning with rage and hatred, and is incapable of realizing it. He's incapable of rejoicing at seeing you alive, incapable of feeling the slightest positive feeling, so great is his distress. All he thinks about is his anger and hatred.

When his anger finally subsides, he feels an immense relief that you're alive and that he didn't hurt you either during his murderous rampage - he would have blamed himself if he had. You eventually manage to have a real chat with him after the battle of the sanctuary, the rest of the time is taken up by increasingly violent fighting. This break is a relief for him and for you. At first, however, he doesn't really know what to tell you. It's been years since you've seen each other and he tried to murder you and the others as soon as he found you. The first discussions are therefore a little awkward.

Eventually, you manage to talk things over. He wants to know more about what happened to you during your training, and feels reassured that you didn't suffer as much as he did on Dead Queen Island. Now that he's calmer, he's certain of one thing, and that's that he wouldn't have wanted anyone but himself to go through what he did.

When you ask him about what he's been through for 6 years, he doesn't really know where to start. So many things have happened, and apart from Esmeralda, who made his days a little sweeter, he has nothing positive to say. He's trying not to worry you too much by not going into details, and you don't need to anyway to know that he's been through hell for 6 years.

[alldni]

ranking the ada by how good the blunt rotation is.

number one is kenji. he is a good young man and never touches it which is why he’s the best. other people get really weird when they’re sober around high people and start treating them like little kids. but kenji looks at you like this 😃 carries entire cases of water bottles to you and tells you stories about cows and gardening that would be so fucking boring sober, but are absolutely resplendent when you’re high as fuck. he can one hand carry you to bed too so you don’t have wander through The Fog to curl up in the sheets if you green out. unfortunately the one downside is that if you smoke in front of kenji kunikida puts a gun to your head

two is tanizaki. he’s just so totally chill about it. he owns a beautiful ornate bong that always has crystal clear water. you sit there and smoke and eat fritos the whole time and it’s beautiful. now unfortunately his illusion is super freaky so if he’s high and using his ability you might have a bad time. but also he could make sesame street appear before your eyes and you’d have such a beautiful time.

coming in at number three definitely atsushi. the first time he smokes he is terrified horrified crying shaking sooo nervous but the second time you can tell he did a bunch of research and suddenly he’s like super expert at it. or less that he’s expert and more that he’s so desperate to prove he’s good at it he starts taking furious bong rips so fast you think he’ll die and his ability is probably the only reason he survives. also he becomes insanely hilarious and out of pocket

fukuzawa at four. this experience would be heavenly. you’d feel like an eighty year old lounging on the front porch in the sun. you smoke from a perfectly rolled joint and listen to him share every opinion he has on everyone in the ada or whatever and then he starts showing you pictures of his cats. he has a medical marijuana card for joint pain. he tells you he loves you and starts listing all your strengths and then lovingly explaining in vivid detail how he thinks you can improve.

kunikida at five purely for humor factor i think. in high school he was a super stoner and now he has seven bongs hidden under his bed. if you somehow got him to smoke with you he would manage to, in mere hours, procure the most amazing heavenly fresh weed you’ve ever smoked. you’ve gone to the garden of eden. unfortunately (and the reason why this is number four) he gets high and starts like reading shit from his ideals notebook to you and now you know too much about his ideal woman. and the next day he refuses to look you in the eyes. BUT he would be great at taking care of others while high i think — he’s the guy making sure everyone guzzles water at the sesh

lucy at number 6 for sure. the weed she gives you is so strong so lightning mcqueen quick-hitting so pungent… it’s probably a new strain called rainbow ballzapper4000 that francis bought from an illegal dispensary in america and she’s been waiting for the perfect moment to smoke it. she would end up taking you to her stupid pocket dimension because she would think it’s really really funny but you would feel like you’re trapped in your own personal hell. a mirage of pink and candy lord almighty. and you would be rapidly weakening shriveling up dying while she only gains strength. and you would want to kiss her

naomi at 7. i would rather kill myself than think about this further

number eight definitely yosano like this would be hell. because she would be so beautiful and transcendent and funny and cool and suave while you’re absolutely fucked up with whatever bullshit hopped up illegal strain she just presented you with. and if you started greening out she’d like give you water or whatever but then she would decide the height of comedy is like describing all the ways you could suddenly die in that moment. “did you know you could get vitamin E lung poisoning from smoking carts? do your lungs feels tight right now? 😃” and it would almost seem like she hoped you say yes. however she would actually try to keep your physical well-being in mind and she would make sure you ate and drank and got to bed ok etc

nine dazai. the ninth circle of hell. i would rather smoke with like francis or something than with this guy. dazai hears “smoke sesh” and asks chuuya to procure him weed and chuuya goes to his basement where he has the saddest most shriveled up little plant and he carefully harvests some flower and carefully prepares it and carefully rolls up two joints and kisses them both (in case dazai smokes from them both) and then you smoke this sad weed that barely hits and you sit there and wait to get high and dazai doesn’t even smoke anything. and you’re like dazai what the fuck. and then dazai pulls something out of his pocket and it’s fentanyl laced shit he got from somewhere else and he starts talking about how much he hopes it’ll work. and then he stares wide eyed and pathetic faced at you and starts ranting about how much he hates chuuya. and then he hands you the fent laced weed

last ranpo. if you start greening out he just starts reading you to fucking filth and you’re mentally destroyed for a week.

[raindrop-21]

Day three of @cirrus-ghoulette 's whump month: Homesick

Cw: drowning, suicide, manipulation, hallucination, lmk if i missed any

Dew doesn't know when he started feeling this way. He's been fire for years now, why is he suddenly yearning for the water again? The water, the cool darkness only water ghouls can survive in. Yeah, he's swam, yeah his gills are still semi functional, but it's not the same. It'll never be the same.

He wants to go back to the water, permanently. He knows it'll kill him, but he wants to do it anyway. No he doesn't. He doesn't want to die, but the water calls for him, like a siren calling for a sailor, luring them to their death. Maybe he could talk to Delta, see if Delta deals with the same thoughts he does.

But he doesn't. He doesn't want to bother Delta. Maybe these thoughts will stop.

They didn't. In fact, they got worse every time he saw a deep body of water. The water sings a secret song that only he can seem to hear. It's hypnotic. It infests his mind, takes over his thoughts.

He starts to envy Rain and Mist, how they swim so freely, submerge themselves fully, touch the bottom of the lake. He wants to take their abilities from them, use them to go to the bottom of the lake one last time, but he won't. He loves the water ghouls, he couldn't hurt them like that. But if he dies he's only truly hurting himself right?

That's how he ended up here. By the lake. At four in the morning. Too late for any sibling to be up, too early for any ghoul to be up. Besides the feral ones that act as guards around the ministry at night. They wouldn't pay any attention to him though.

He walks close to the edge of the lake. Should he really do this?

Yes. The water calls to him, Come back to me. Come back home, Droplet.

That's all it takes before he's walking into the water. The water reaches his ankles and the sharp sting of cold hits him, but he tredges on. The water touches his belly button, he's used to the temperature. The water's up to his chin, he has one more chance to go back to the ministry, his “home”, but the water calls again.

Droplet. Return. Embrace your natural element, be reborn as what you truly are.

That's a lie, it's all lies. He won't be reborn, he'll die. But he listens anyway. He takes the final step; he's fully submerged, from head to toe. He can breathe through his gills, but just barely. He continues walking. He breathes through his gills, the remnants of them fluttering as if they never broke in the first place.

As he goes deeper, it gets harder to breathe, the pressure from the water pressing on his lungs. Once he fully reaches the bottom of the lake he feels at peace, but also panicked. He can't breathe, he wants to swim back up, get out of the water, but it's holding him down.

You can't leave Droplet, you've just returned. We won't let you leave. The water hisses at him.

The lack of oxygen in his body makes him hallucinate, see spirits of the water around him, pushing him down to the floor of the lake, making him lay down.

Welcome home, Droplet. The spirits giggle as they hold him down.

As his vision gets blurry he starts to regret this. As much as he loved the water it wasn't his home. His home was the ministry, with his pack, teaching Phantom how to be a menace, sloppy makeout sessions with Swiss, baking in the kitchen with Aurora, having the sweetest sex with Cirrus, spending time with his pack, hell, even being scolded by Copia. He made the wrong choice.

Somehow, even while being underwater, he can feel tears run down his face. He wasn't ready to die, he didn't want to die. There was still so much to do. As he feels his consciousness slip away, he feels something grab his hand. His vision is too blurry for him to see so he lets the hand grab him.

He doesn't know how, but he's on the dirt of the banks of the lake and there's a faceless ghoul next to him.

“It's not your time.” The ghoul whispers before disappearing into the darkness.

[theguardiansseries]

From the Beginning - Chapter 4: Danny Is Brave Despite His Friends’ Best Efforts (He Also Discovers The Benefits Of Soup)

A/N: When you have your outline squished together so what should have been separated into two chapters is instead one big chapter, but that just makes it read better anyways. Enjoy the "Mystery Meat" episode!

Reminder that updates are (hopefully) every Wednesday and Saturday and that I survive off of comments and kudos!

–

Rating: Teen Audiences

Summary:

Dani Fenton (who is sometimes starting to go by Danny Fenton) is a fifteen-year-old almost sophmore who was just going about her normal life when she figured out she sort of liked being seen as a boy. Oh, then he (he had definitely been a he at the time) got shocked by a machine his parents built to view into another world that they believed contained a world of ‘ecotplasmic entities.’

Danny really isn’t sure how to tell them that they were right and that he was in the machine when it turned on and that maybe he isn’t so human anymore. (He might also not be a girl anymore, but that one was a little more difficult to explain than the fact that he ((she?)) might be half-ghost.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54944266/chapters/139959616

Chapters: <<First>> <Prev || Next>

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Chapter Four: Danny Is Brave Despite His Friends’ Best Efforts (He Also Discovers The Benefits Of Soup)

It was more of an effort to not laugh than it should have been, but Danny figured he was allowed to laugh at his friends’ misery when he was suffering from the same thing. 

Sam didn’t seem to think so, glaring up at him and muttering a whisper-soft, “I know where you live.” The words were nearly drowned out over the frenzy that was the cafeteria room, but it still managed to make Danny give in and laugh fully.

“Yeah, you do, but could you even make it up the stairs to kill me? I’m pretty sure you’d collapse before even making it through the front door.” The sad part was, it didn’t seem like much of an exaggeration when all three of them were exhausted, sleep deprived, and trying to figure out how the hell they had been given so much homework when it was only Friday of their first week. “C’mon, guys, at least we have the weekend to look forward to!”

“Yeah, the weekend we’ll be using to do fifty pounds of homework,” Tucker muttered, everything about him dripping with bitterness. “Do you think the teachers hate us? Is that what this is? Or are they trying to weed out the weak?”

“Probably want us all to commit suicide so they don’t have to deal with us,” Sam grumbled, Danny fighting to not laugh again even as Tucker did. “School was not this exhausting last year.”

Danny shrugged, nibbling on a fry, “Dunno. Maybe they’re trying to figure out the smart ones from the dumb ones early.” A glance down at his tray showed that while he had eaten a lot of his lunch already, there was still a good amount left. He was still starving and hungry as hell a lot, but he at least wasn’t scarfing everything down that he could get his hands on like he had in the beginning of the week. “Which means me and Tuck are doomed.” 

“Hey,” Tucker frowned. “I’m smart!” Mm… was he, though? Danny figured the thought must have shown up on his face since Tucker looked even more offended. “Hey!”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, Tuck, you’re a genius when it comes to coding and hacking and tech and stuff, but… You kind of suck at everything else.”

There was a long silence, Danny waiting for a response before Tucker looked away and sullenly started sipping on his chocolate milk. It was way more hilarious than it should have been, especially when he saw Sam trying to fight back her own laughs. It was possible all the homework might have caused them to suffer from a little bit of hysteria.

“Okay, okay,” Sam said as soon as she was able, sitting back up. “Whose house is up first for homework duty-”

“Not it!” Danny and Tucker both shouted immediately, which, excellent. That meant a study session at Sam’s who was rich and, therefore, had the best study snacks. Sam didn’t even look surprised, anymore! 

“How generous of you boys, truly,” Sam drawled, Danny quickly taking a bite of whatever was closest to hide the stupid grin he could feel forming. It wasn’t his fault being counted as ‘one of the boys’ was starting to become a pretty good feeling. “Speaking of you boys, Danny! Did you finally learn to breathe between bites?”

“Ha ha,” Danny said with as dry a tone as he could muster, not keeping it up long before he was smiling at his friends’ looks. “I dunno, just… I’m still really hungry, but it doesn’t feel like I’m Godzilla waking up from a thousand year long nap, you know?”

Tucker snorted with laughter while Sam shook her head, smiling anyways, “At least there’s that. How’d your check up with the doctors go on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, how’d your escape from the second half of classes go,” Tucker pretended to frown, Danny rolling his eyes and flicking a fry at him. At least, Danny was pretty sure it was a fry. 

“It went fine.” Which was something Danny had already told the two, but, God, it would take someone a lot stronger than Danny to get them to stop worrying over him. “I’m still, you know, not the best, but they’re happy that I seem to be stable and don’t have anything that’s, like, really wrong, you know?”

Not to say he was perfectly alright. He was still dropping almost everything he picked up or tried to hold, but he wasn’t shaking or losing his balance as much anymore. His breathing still wasn’t the best, either, and his heart rate was still kind of trashed, but he at least didn’t struggle for air after walking from his house to the end of the block! 

“The only thing that sucked was that Jazz spent an hour grilling the doctors about the best way to follow the aftercare instructions,” Danny continued, trying not to think back to the pure embarrassment at Jazz’s motherly concern and craziness. “Not sure if she’s just that worried, or if she was trying to make some kind of point because Mom and Dad weren’t there.” Ah… and there were the shared looks.

Tucker was the first to speak, as the more ‘relaxed’ friend, so him speaking first made it seem less like an interrogation, “Your parents didn’t go to the appointment with you? Or were they waiting in the car or lobby or something?” 

Sam was next, pushing in deep and trying to drive the point home and get Danny riled up into confessing what they all already knew, “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course Danny’s parents would go with him to a doctor’s appointment when it comes to something like this.”

“You know,” Danny finally managed after a few seconds. “This was a lot more effective before I broke down your team interrogation techniques. Now it’s just sad.” Ah, the annoyed, upset looks of his best friends. Balance was restored. “They were at home working on the Portal- I mean, I told you guys what happened, right? The whole self-sustaining thing?”

As expected, Tucker was quick to leap onto the subject of self-sustaining energy, “Dude, I still can’t believe your parents might be about to crack into a source of self-sustaining energy that’s actually, you know, self-sustaining.” 

“Might,” Sam stressed. “If this really is running off of- Of ectoplasm or whatever it is, then we have no idea what that could do to someone if they’re exposed to it. I mean, we once thought radiation was safe, too.” 

“Damn,” Danny muttered, looking at Tucker. “I think she won that one because that’s… That’s a really good point.” 

“But she always wins!” Before Danny could think of a response at Tucker’s loud, dramatic whining, he felt his back bend and his nails dig into his palms at the sudden race of electricity that burned through him like he had shoved a fork into a socket and- “Danny? Hey, whoa, what’s wrong?” 

“I-” Danny cut himself off, shuddering as the feeling began to fade, instead turning into something like a low, pouding sense of worry at the back of his mind. “I just- It felt like I was just shocked, just now, but… not. You know?”

His friends both had looks that made it seem like no, they did not know, and Danny wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or grateful when the bell warning them of their next class screeched through the air. Shaking his head and standing up, Danny muttered a quick, “Nevermind. Probably just the normal static shock.” Except it hadn’t felt like it. 

It was more like an exposed wire had been pressed to his skin and then pulled away only to linger in the air just behind him, ready to zap him all over again the second he made the wrong move or choice. It was like an ever-evolving anxiety attack and he was half-tempted to ask Jazz if any of her psychology books had anything on something similar because jesus. 

Already keyed up even while the three were just dumping their trash from lunch, he wasn’t even surprised when some loud banging from the kitchen sent him jumping into the air and almost knocking both himself and Tucker to the ground. “Whoa, dude, you okay?” 

“I-” Danny cut himself off, grateful that he had already thrown his trash into the actual trash can rather than flinging it onto Tucker or some random kid behind them. “You guys heard that too, right? The…” Words running out, Danny gestured vaguely towards the kitchen. 

“Sounded like someone back there might have knocked a pot or something over,” Sam said, standing close by on Danny’s other side and hovering like she was about to catch him. It would have been sweet if Danny wasn’t ready to crawl out of his skin from anxiety. 

“I- I mean. I know the bell just rang, but would- Would you guys come with me to just check? Real quick?” Danny should not be this close to some kind of anxiety attack. He had a weird feeling and now he was just feeding into his terror or something like that. Jazz would have had the words for it, but Danny knew enough to know that he was just scaring himself and he needed to calm down. Still. What if it was something and not just a bad feeling? 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. We can check it out real quick.” Sam headed for the kitchen doors with a sense of confidence and purpose that meant no one would stop her, Tucker still sort of holding him up as he followed after her and tugged Danny along. (She wasn’t really feeling much like ‘Danny’ anymore.)

“Well, that’s a fun thing to learn,” Dani muttered under her breath, not surprised when Tucker noticed and gave her a questioning look, because Tucker only ever seemed to be observant when she was freaking out. “Not really feeling much like a guy when I’m this… anxious?” 

“There’s probably some insanely long lecture on feminism that Sam has memorized to explain it if you want to ask,” Tucker teased, Dani feeling a little better. 

She then felt a million times worse when they all got to the kitchen door and pushed it open to see that the lights were flickering and dimming before shutting off entirely. Dani gulped and she felt Tucker go still, whispering a horrified, “We’re in a horror movie.” 

“We are not in a horror movie,” Sam snapped, which was a clear enough indicator that she was just as on edge as them. “The lights probably started acting up and caused one of the cooks to drop something.” 

“Are lunch ladies really cooks?” Tucker asked, injecting just enough stupid humor into the situation that Dani didn’t feel like she was going to faint in terror as they crept forward into the kitchen. The door swinging shut behind them made her feel like some dramatic death toll should be going off in the background. “Like, genuinely-” 

“Yes, they are,” Sam said firmly. “And also because one of the cooks here identifies as a man, and it’d be rude to refer to him as a ‘lunch lady.’” Huh. Dani wouldn’t have really thought about that even a couple months ago, but that was a good point. 

“Maybe he likes being referred to as a lunch lady. Maybe he finds it funny.” Ah, Tucker. He was doing his best, but Dani could hear the way his voice was shaking. Not that she was much better, gripping onto Tucker’s arm hard enough that it was probably going numb.

Before the ‘fight’ could continue, there was another clanging sound, like something heavy and metal hitting the floor. It had all three of them poorly stifling their screams as they jumped into each other hard enough to nearly send them to the ground. Dani wasn’t sure how they managed to catch their balance, but all three of them stayed standing.

Dani hadn’t even looked up from making sure her feet weren’t about to trip over each other again when she felt static rolling across her skin, nowhere near as strong as it had been earlier, but enough to make her snap her head up to see that there was some light in the kitchen. 

And it was coming from a ghost. 

Dani couldn’t tear her gaze away even as she wanted to look at her friends’ faces to see if they were seeing the same thing. Judging by the way Tucker was now gripping her arm tightly enough to bruise, she had to assume they were. 

“Oh dear, oh dear… No, no, this is all wrong.” The actual real life ghost in front of them was speaking and mumbling to herself like some fretful old lady who had forgotten something. It was definitely a ghost, though, because Dani could see through her to the wall of pots and pans behind her. She could also see the way she was floating seven inches off the ground. (Seven? Six? It was enough to be noticeable!)

“Oh, hello, dearies.” Ah. The ghost had seen them. The ghost was now talking to them. “Could you tell me who changed the menu?”

Dani opened her mouth to maybe pray to some god she wasn’t sure she actually believed in when Tucker beat her to it. “Do you mean all the salads and junk that Sam added?” 

That was enough to get Dani to turn her head to look at him, shocked that one of her best friends was that stupid. He was even pointing at Sam! Who looked just as incredulous! Yeah, okay, there was no accounting for what someone said when they were going through shock and extreme amounts of fear, but still! 

“Oh. You changed the menu?” The ghost who looked like a lunch lady straight out of the fifties with a pink uniform and hair net and gloves and everything was looking at Sam now and Dani was really hoping that this was some weird dream she would wake up from after falling asleep at lunch. Or maybe they were mass hallucinating. That was a thing, right? “You changed the menu.” Oh. That wasn’t a question that time.

Before Dani could say anything, she saw some of the pots behind the ghost beginning to float up into the air, wrapped in the same glowing light that came from the ghost — who was looking a lot angrier than she had a second- Holy fucking shit. 

Staring with wide eyes at the huge cast iron pot that had slammed into the wall hard enough to dent it after just barely missing Sam’s head, Dani was pretty sure her brain went offline for a couple of seconds in shock. She then decided she could go into shock when she was dead and shoved Tucker hard enough that she might as well have body-checked him before doing the same to Sam and screaming, “Run!” 

It was then Danny who turned back and kept himself between the ghost and his friends.

Let me be brave, Danny thought to himself fiercely, because Danny wasn’t the shy, meek little girl who avoided any sign of confrontation and tried her best to be quiet. Danny was someone who was learning to speak up for himself and was bad at it, but was trying. Danny was the one who was starting to let himself take up space and try to figure out just who he was. 

So it was Danny who grabbed the fallen pot off the ground as his friends ran and threw it up into the air at another one that had been flying towards them. Through some miracle of luck it actually managed to hit, the two making a loud clanging sound that hurt his ears and had him hurrying out the door after his friends.

He didn’t bother to waste his breath to tell his friends to keep running, only shoving them forward when he saw they had slowed down to make sure he was behind them. He made sure it was a decently powerful shove considering he heard more pots clanging into the walls and door of the kitchen, the cafeteria now empty with no witnesses which meant no one to see what the hell was going on. 

It wasn’t until they were a couple of hallways away, all empty since everyone who didn’t have a deadly sense of curiosity was in class, that Tucker was squeaking out a high-pitched, “What the hell?!” 

“Inside, inside, inside,” Sam chanted, jerking open a door into an empty classroom before pushing them all inside and then shutting and locking it. Danny watched as her legs gave out and she slid down to the floor, Tucker not doing much better as he propped himself up against a desk. “That- That was… Was that really-?”

“That was a ghost.” Tucker’s face was paler than Danny had ever seen and enough to spur him into grabbing a chair and dragging it over before pushing him into it. “That was actually- Ghosts can’t do shit like that- Ghosts aren’t real like that!” 

Still gasping for breath he didn’t have, and knowing his heart was going way too fast, Danny finally managed a weak, “That wasn’t a ghost.” As soon as his friends looked at him like he was insane, he shook his head. “No, listen, that- That was everything my parents have ever told me about. That was an ectoplasmic entity or whatever it is that they’ve been studying.” Which meant… “Holy shit, they were right.” 

“Dani, girl-”

“Boy again. Sorry.” 

“Danny, man, I love you, but what the hell does that have to do with what’s going on right now? And the fact that we’re about to die?” 

Making a note to beam over Tucker’s casual acceptance of how he was switching between genders like dresses before a party, Danny forced himself to focus and dug out his phone. “It means that we can call my parents and they can come down here and actually do something about it.” 

Pulling up his contacts quickly, Danny heard Sam muttering something before her voice pitched up in something between offense, rage, and hurt, “You ratted me out to a ghost?” 

“I panicked! I thought-! She looked like my grandma, I didn’t think she’d suddenly start throwing kitchenware at us!” Alright. That was a decent point, actually. 

Phone ringing, Danny blew out a breath when it connected and he heard his mom’s voice. “Danielle? Sweetie, what’s wrong? You’re supposed to be in class right now, aren’t you?” 

“Mom-” Voice breaking, Danny realized just how tense and terrified he still was, all his energy thrumming under his skin like static before lightning struck. (He really needed to stop focusing on the static and lightning analogies, if only so he could stop remembering how much he had screamed.) “Mom, I need you and Dad to come to the school, right now.” 

“Danielle, honey, we’re right in the middle of our work. Something odd is happening with the EMD and we need to figure it out before it can cause any problems. Are you having a bad day? I can call Jazz and she should be able to come and pick you up-”

“You were right!” Danny blurted out, loud enough that Sam and Tucker both jumped and rattled the door and chair they were each leaning against or on. “Everything you ever said about- About ghosts and ectoplasm and all of it, you were right, okay? Everything. You were right and we’re looking at the proof and you need to get down here right now!”

Silent. The other end was silent and Danny felt ready to scream as he pulled his phone away to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. There was nothing but a black screen, Danny clicking the power button to bring up the call. Nothing showed up. He clicked it again, a couple times, and it was like a dawning horror to realize his phone had just died. 

“Shit,” Danny muttered, trying a couple more times before giving up and shoving it into his pocket, other hand held out towards Tucker. “Phone. Mine died.” 

Tucker nodded and moved to get it, Danny snapping his hand back with a sharp gasp as that same feeling from lunch, that same burning jolt of static, shot through him with enough force to have him stumbling away and looking around the room as if something was about to jump out at him. 

He wasn’t wrong. 

The ghost from earlier was suddenly in the middle of the room, both his friends jumping to their feet with enough force to send them stumbling back. The look of fear in their eyes had Danny’s skyrocketing, but at the same time it made him feel angry. 

“You dare change the menu?! The menu has been the same for fifty years! Fifty years of tradition! Of getting it right! And you would dare change it?!” 

Let me be brave, Danny thought once again, watching as one of the desks glowed with that strange energy and light the same as the pots had. Danny saw where it was going to hit as it flung itself through the air on a trajectory right towards Sam. 

Before he could even think he was moving, hands outstretched and shoving Sam away and into Tucker, knowing he would catch Sam. He then braced himself to feel a whole lot of pain as the desk flew- Right by him? 

Okay. Well. He wasn’t about to question his luck there when the desk was in splinters against the wall and they now had a clear shot to the door, Danny shoving them forward with another command to, “Run! Outside!”

His friends didn’t question it and began running at once, Tucker panting out strained words as they rounded the corner. “Danny, that desk- It went through you!” 

“Yeah. I know. Really close miss,” Danny panted out himself, the burn in his lungs starting to remind him really clearly that his doctors had talked about him having problems with breathing at his last check-up. “Talk later.”

“No, man, it went through you!” Okay, they would have time to talk about Tucker’s fear hallucinations later, Danny decided. 

“Outside, outside,” Danny said, raising his voice so Sam could hear, who was already making the turn for the front doors. “We need to get out. Lead it to my parents!” If they could get to his house — or more accurately if they could get to ‘Fenton Works,’ his parents would probably have something in the lab that could deal with everything. 

“We- We can’t!” Tucker gasped like he was about to stop breathing, Danny slowing just enough to make sure he could keep Tucker ahead of him and catch him if he collapsed as they raced down the stairs and out onto the front lawn of the school. Unlike Danny’s possible likelihood, Tucker did have asthma. “We can’t skip school!” 

“Get your priorities straight!” Sam shouted back, enough breath in her lungs to yell at them. It was extremely unfair, in Danny’s opinion. What was more unfair was that the ghost or ectoplasmic entity or demon or whatever it was was right in front of them again, like all their running hadn’t even mattered. It also had grabbed Sam by the wrist and jerked her to a stop harshly enough that Sam let out a short scream. 

Danny didn’t even think. He didn’t stop, or scream, or gasp, or anything. He just kept running, fear and anger pounding through him at seeing Sam’s terrified face, before he slammed into the ghostly lunch lady that was looking at them with burning red eyes. He was honestly surprised when he made contact, and apparently so was the ghost since he saw her grip on Sam loosen enough that she was able to free herself. 

“Danny!” The warning came a second too late, Danny wincing as it was his arm grabbed that time. He heard Sam scream again, and Tucker too, but it was a little hard to be sure when all of his focus was on the searing pain in his arm as he was lifted off the ground higher, and higher, and higher-! Too fast, this was all going too fast, he couldn’t even think-

“Now, dearie, it’s quite rude to interfere,” the ghost chided him like he was a misbehaving child, Danny swinging almost twenty or thirty feet up from the ground and trying to hold back a scream. The pain in his arm was enough to make him think it was dislocated, all of his weight hanging by the grip around his wrist. “This should fix that, and you should be just fine, even. Just a few broken bones, is all, I think!” 

Danny looked up at the ghost who smiled at him like she was being genuine and just putting him in some sort of time-out before he realized he was falling through the air. 

For a brief second that had to have been controlled by hysteria Danny decided the feeling of falling through the air felt like when he had jumped from a swing as a kid or when coming down after bouncing too high on a trampoline. 

The next second had the panic overwhelm him, a voiceless thought that he didn’t want to feel that much pain again, but it was quickly drowned out by fear that Sam and Tucker were next. 

He didn’t give a shit if he got hurt along the way, but he was not going to let some insane research of his parents hurt his best friends. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. No matter what it took, he was going to protect them-!

A sudden jerk had him stopping in his descent, Danny braced for the pain. He instead felt a wave of shock at there being none. He then realized there was no pain because instead of hitting the ground, he was floating a few inches above it. 

In the seconds before he dropped the last few inches to the ground, Danny looked at Sam and Tucker to see they were stunned, completely still and silent. He also looked at the ghost who looked as scared as he felt. 

A part of him wanted to just sit there and just give into the urge to sob in terror, but then he realized what he was looking at. She was scared. That meant there was something that could stop her. 

Rolling over and shoving himself up onto his knees, Danny saw the ghost was still up in the air, still too surprised to move yet. Danny, now an expert at pushing his panic attacks away until later, furiously tried to think on what he could do. 

A whisper. 

A nudge to his back. 

A swirl of soft blues and purple that he couldn’t see but somehow knew was there, the faintest, Backpack. 

Following the nudge, Danny didn’t stop to think as he ran for Tucker and turned him around before he ripped his backpack open, ignoring Tucker’s sputtering and squirming. Instead he found just what he had been looking for. 

He had almost forgotten, but that time at the lab, on the day of the Accident, he had seen Tucker grab something from one of the tables. He had probably been wanting to play around with it and see what it did, but Danny remembered his dad talking about it. It was an old thermos he had converted into a container for ectoplasmic energy. 

He had no idea how it worked, absolutely no clue if it would do anything towards the ghost that had almost tried to kill him, but he didn’t let himself hesitate. 

Let me be brave, Danny thought as loudly as he could, ripping the cap off the thermos and fumbling to turn it around towards the ghost that was quickly getting over her shock. Let me protect them!

“Soup isn’t on the menu, child.” The ghost was smirking like she was someone who knew they couldn’t be hurt, but Danny forced himself to not believe it. She had been scared, after all. 

She had been scared and so, with every scrap of hope he had left inside of him, Danny held up the themors and pressed the bright green button on the side of it. 

There was a moment — a second — where nothing happened and Danny felt like his heart was about to throw up. Then he felt the metal in his hands heat up with enough force and speed that it took everything in him to not drop the container, eyes wide as a beam of bright white light or energy or something shot out and hit the ghost directly. 

Danny braced himself as he felt the container vibrate in his hands, the ghost screaming as it looked like she was almost being pulled into the thing. He expected her to rip away from it and escape until the last second when both the ghost and the energy coiled back in on itself, Danny capping the thermos without thought. 

“Sorry, lady,” Danny said, a laugh of what was definitely hysteria leaving him as he suddenly felt a million pounds heavier, not helped at all when he heard what might have been his parents starting to shout at him. Or maybe it was Sam and Tucker? “But it looks like lunch is over.” 

Letting out a breath, Danny tried to figure out just what to do with a container that had a ghost in it like straight out of an old sci-fi movie. He also tried to figure out how he was going to explain this to his parents and maybe even the teachers. 

He then realized the black at the edges of his vision hadn’t gone away — had only grown stronger — and that was probably a bad thing. 

After that, all he knew was that it was dark and quiet and he was tired. 

A nap would be fine, right?

—

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[blubushie]

Well I'm taking you at your word, then! Round 1: How did you come to do what you do? Was it a sudden impulse/ jumping off the deep end, or a slow and steady march into it? Have you always wanted to hunt nuisance animals for money or did you come by it while pursuing something else at first?

In short: How did Blu become bushie? *chin hands*

It was 100% a result of me losing my mind and going off the deep end.

FUN STORY TIME.

I don't like people. In this kinda way.

"EW. PEOPLE."

People are strange and cruel and nasty and sometimes they'll kill lizards in front of you when you're in year 4 because they know you like them. People do mean things to other things just to hurt someone they don't like, so I don't like people. And there's a fucking lot of people everywhere. There's a lot of people in Alice Springs. There's a LOT of people in California.

And I don't like people.

I'll admit that I got into my own head a lot (still do; I zone out often). And I got this idea, right? The Swagmen of Olde. They lived in the bush with a lot less, er, support than what we have now. Modern day swagman. Revive an old Australian tradition. So I was say fifteen and we got out for I think the term 1 holidays, aaand I was officially a missing child for a week because I packed my swag and disappeared into the Outback. I lived off bottled water, native wells, and my scroggin ran out on day 2 so after that I survived off quandong and witchetty grubs (note to readers, don't go into the Outback without a machete because trying to dig out witchetty grubs with a knife will blister your palms). Basically stayed alive by making my own shelter from shit my dad taught me, or things I read about in books.

Anyway the NTPF eventually put out a chopper for me and dragged me kicking and screaming to civilisation (I was so feral they put me in the fucking divvy van) and it sucked (also I made the newspaper, not the point). But in the 5 days I was gone I just... found some inner peace, I suppose? I was talk of the town and over the next year there were three or four additional attempts to return to the Outback until Mum (and the NTPF) got tired of me trying to dehydrate myself to death and brought us both back to California.

And my California town is bigger than Alice Springs. The town has a population of ~80,000 and there's people fucking everywhere and I hate it.

So I did the same thing I did in Australia and routinely went walkabout to the point our local sheriff knew me by name. It got to the point the LOCALS knew me by name. Half would call in and report me when I was out walking on behalf of my father, the other were of the wildchild mentality and had an unspoken agreement of "Do not send Blu back to that house." (My parents aren't abusive or anything, the locals were just of the idea that at 16 I was finding my own way in the world like kids did back in the 50s, which... Yeah, I was.)

I was given an ankle monitor because I was a flight risk, and I stopped leaving.

Anyway I left high school, got a job working part-time graveyard at Dad's insistence on doing something with my life, and on the side I started talking to the neighbours who know I'm one hell of a shot (courtesy of me recently winning a county sharpshooting competition). And they get this bright idea, right, they've got a lot of coyotes on their property trying to lift their sheep. So I start killing coyotes. They're proud of my work, they tell their neighbours, I start getting paid $25 per pig I kill on their property so long as they keep the bacon. Fine deal for everyone involved.

Between pest control and graveyard and some other odd jobs I made ~$15k over 6 months and I still had this niggling idea in my head of going bush permanently. At 18 I bought my FIRST ute and went east. And that ute was fucking old. Not a '99 Ford, an '87 Ford F-150 with over 300,000mi on it. I figured I'd get to somewhere around New Mexico before it'd cark it because that poor bastard didn't sound right from the get-go.

And cark it it did! But I also learned a few things from my dad, and so I jerry rigged that cunt (which consisted of removing the faulty ignition and replacing it with a fucking screwdriver). I got it started and working again. Got it to Texas, got the ignition fixed, and took jobs in the southwest for 6 months.

And then I got sick of the southwest. I saw the towns I frequented become gentrified. They lost their personality. The mum and pop stores shut down and were replaced with Targets and Walmarts and the land started seeing construction and in six months I'd lost all hope for it.

So I said "fuck this shit" and decided, for the fifth time in my life, that I was going to the Outback. I went back to California, got my passport and all my necessary identification, had a MASSIVE argument with my parents because they didn't want me to leave, but I left anyway and sold the ute and I took a bus to San Francisco, got lost, ended up sleeping in an alleyway at some point which isn't important except to remember that I fucking hate cities, but eventually got my way to the airport with about $10k in cash and debit and I got the first flight to Sydney.

All without a fucking mobile phone.

And I spent every dollar I had save for $2000 on a '99 F-150. And my first night I bought a bottle of plonk (strange buying booze at 19 years old). I smashed it in the bush over my ute's roo bar and I christened her Matilda, my steadfast companion who will come waltzing with me. And I drove her up to Brisbane, and then to Cairns, and while in Cairns I was stopped and detained because of my rifle, and then that was confiscated for a month until I got my firearms licence, and then I had to go BACK to Brisbane to pick it up again but before I did that I met a bloke and spent my last $2k on a camper for Matilda.

So now I'm stuck in Australia with not a dollar to my name, no means of getting money on account of not having a rifle, and a new-christened ute with a camper but no way to pay for petrol.

So I drive up the track, end up heading west until Matilda ran out of petrol, then walked 2km or so to the nearest station who happened to have cattle. Aussies take care of our own. Told the bloke there the story over tea and supper, he says I can help muster if I know how to ride a horse.

Boy, do I.

So I do that for a few months, say hooroo to him after he helps me siphon petrol into my tank, and I return to Brisbane and get my rifle back. I make my way back through QLD, stop for a week in Longreach, then get another job as a stockman. For maybe a year I was a full-fledged stockman and met my heart horse and I met the first girl I ever loved, but then I stopped being a stockman, worked at sea on a fishing vessel for a few months, come back, and ended up getting a job working some pastoral land near there dealing with a small pack of wild dogs who'd been lifting the bloke's sheep, and I start making a name for myself again as one hell of a sharpshooter. And then I got my commercial shooter's licence.

Rest is history!

[melishade]

Number 15?

This ask game

Pilot Poll Open until next Sunday

Eren and Megatron 'bonding' during the Dark Timeline. If you could call it that

TW Choking. TW Blood

Eren really tried this time around. He really did. He didn't remember Optimus' training being this brutal. But that was because Optimus told him that he intentionally held back so that Eren would ease into the lessons and not end up seriously hurt. Two years ago, Eren would have wanted Optimus to not hold back and teach him everything.

Now he regrets ever wanting to defect from Optimus' training.

Eren coughed up blood as Megatron holoform punched him directly in the face, sending him slamming into a tree. Eren raised his head and gasped as Megatron rushed him to punch him directly in the gut. Eren quickly used his hands to catch and block that punch, but the full force of it still knocked the wind right out of his lungs. Eren managed to find an opening and kicked Megatron in the knee. It forced Megatron to stop his assault and allowed for Eren to roll out of the way. Eren tried to crawl away and gain some distance, but Megatron grabbed his ankle and yanked him back. Eren managed to kick Megatron in the face, not enough to damage him, but it still was enough for him to let go. Eren quickly got up and stumbled back, but Megatron lunged at him, wrapping his hand around his neck and slamming him to the ground.

"S-stop!" Eren pleaded as Megatron's grip got tighter.

"In war, you cannot beg for mercy," Megatron reminded, "You either fight, or you die. Which option will you choose?"

Eren tried. He really tried to claw his way out of Megatron's grip. But he just couldn't. His hand was practically locked in place. Nothing could move it.

"I-I can't!" Eren forced out, "I just can't! I yield!"

Eren detected a hint of disappointment in Megatron's eyes before letting go of the titan shifter. Eren gasped for air before getting on all fours and coughing up anything that got stuck in his airway.

"You're still favoring one side in combat," Megatron advised, "You need to be ambidextrous or-!"

"Fucking hell, Megatron! Just let me breathe for a second! You just tried to kill me!" Eren snapped at him.

"You agreed to this training," Megatron reminded, "You asked me to cut extra time in my day to train you. And Shockwave might not be a gladiator, but you've seen what he is capable of. So either you need to take my advice and actually improve or-!"

"I'm trying to! Okay!" Eren screamed at him, "I'm really trying! And I know Shockwave's a pain in the ass but I don't need to have it here right now too!"

Silence rang throughout the air as Eren wiped his mouth. God, he...he just hated this. For once in his life...he lost the motivation to actually get stronger. Eren noticed something out of the corner of his eye, and glanced up to see Megatron kneeling down and holding out a canteen of water to him.

"Thanks," Eren mumbled as he took the canteen and properly sat down on the grass.

"You wouldn't last a second in the arena," Megatron remarked.

"Yeah, thanks for letting me know," Eren spat out in annoyance before drinking some water.

Megatron sighed in defeat before he decided to sit down next to Eren. "...this was how I learned to fight and survive. I never had the luxury of taking it slow. You either fight or die. There's no in between."

Eren couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Sounds like something I'd say. But aren't you a 'champion of Kaon' or something like that. Undefeated? Doesn't sound like you had a hard time when it came to fighting if you were unopposed."

Eren noticed that Megatron's eyes seemed to dart a little bit. Like he was nervous...or conflicted. The former warlord groaned before wiping at his eyes with his hands and muttering something in a different language.

"Not accounting for the fact that I have nearly died multiple times and have died before, I barely managed to survive my first gladiatorial match," Megatron confessed.

"R-really?" Eren stuttered.

"I had no experience," Megatron continued, "I was thrown in with a rusted sword and that shield I carry with me now. I barely managed to survive that fight with heavy injury."

Eren was now filled with more questions. How did Megatron manage to survive? The shield he was carrying was from his gladiator days? Why was Megatron thrown into the arena in the first place? Eren was ready to ask more about it, but he noticed just how...uncomfortable Megatron looked just talking about it. He didn't know...what else to say now.

"...sorry," Eren could only muster.

"Apologies mean nothing if you can't back them up," Megatron declared, "...and I know that you would prefer Optimus here instead of me, but that's just the way the situation is."

"...I just miss him," Eren said.

Megatron sighed. "I know."

Eren closed the canteen and Megatron stood up. "Do you have enough energy to continue?"

"You're not going to hold back, right?" Eren asked.

"No, so make your choice," Megatron commanded.

Eren thought it over before leaving the canteen on the ground and standing up. "I'll try. I'll end up on the floor though. I just know it."

Megatron snorted at that. "To be fair, you lack the experience Optimus and I have."

"...can I ask something about that gladiator match?" Eren mustered up the courage to speak, but that nearly went away in an instant when Megatron's amused expression turned into one of neutrality.

"Depends," Megatron replied.

"What was...going through your head when you won that match?" Eren asked.

Megatron thought it over, at least what he could remember. He remembered stabbing his opponent in the neck. He remembered feeling so relieved that he survived. He remembered looking up at the clouded sky, and seeing the light of the sun for the second time in his life.

"...I was free."

(Contrary to popular belief, I'd like to think that Megatron struggled initially when he first became a gladiator before rising through the ranks and becoming the undefeated champion. Adds more humanity I guess. Anyway, you can ask from the list or vote on the pilot poll if you haven't done that already.)

[epic-song-lyrics-showdown]

Random Assorted Artists with songs in the showdown Pt. 1

This is the first list of random artists that have been submitted. This is pretty much anyone that didn’t get many submissions. If you see a song and are like hey this should be somewhere else the answer is no. Unless there is a repeat of a song somewhere or the artist shows up on another list they are meant to be here. Check out the other lists here.

Sail - AWOLNATION

Sinners - Barns Courtney

My Frankenstein - Kody Kavitha

An Alien’s I Love You - Utsu-P

Beneath the Brine - The Family Crest

Gladiator - Jann

Light - Next to Normal

Gut Punch/Don’t Meet Your Idols - Everybody’s Worried About Owen

Us - Chxrlotte

It’s the end of the world as we know it - R.E.M.

Trouble - Valerie Broussard

A Meadow - Open Book

Serenade - Kamelot

The Bard’s Song: In the Forest - Blind Guardian

The Weekend Whip - The Fold

Achilles Come Down - Gang of Youths (Four different lyric submissions)

Farewell Kabarista - Vagabond Opera

Tango Dancer - Dave Malloy

Cold Day in Hell - Delta Rae

Still… - Sophia James

Mirrorball - Elbow

Waltz #2 (XO) - Elliott Smith

One More Try - Mariam-Teak Lee & Jordan Luke Gage

Marie - Townes van Zandt

City of Lights - The Music Tapes

Bloody Motherfucking Asshole - Martha Wainwright

On Melancholy Hill - Gorillaz

Don’t Let’s Start - They Might Be Giants

Touch - Daft Punk ft. Paul Williams

The Hounds - The Protomen

Infinite Lives - Mega Ran ft. D&D Sluggers

Nights Like These - Bears in Trees

Slumber - Slløtface

gum v6.4 - Devon Again

head - Devon Again

Dissociate - Atlas

Introduction to the Snow - Miracle Music

Wait for It - Hamilton Musical

Ice To Never - The Black Queen

Progress - The Dear Hunter

Warrior - Paradise Fears

Windowpane - Opeth

Voodoo Dust - Urfaust

Yen - Slipknot

Order - Heaven Pierce Her / Hakita

VI: Sons of Fate - The Protomen

Charlie’s Inferno - That Handsome Devil

Paradox - Survive Said the Prophet

This Too Shall Pass - Danny Schmidt

Light - Chonny Jash

Mad IQs - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Worms - AlicebanD

The Mighty Echo - The Family Crest

Ride - Bligh

Jesus Christ - Brand New

Your Heart is a Muscle the Size of Your Fist - Ramshackle Glory

The Summoning - Sleep Token

In The End - Black Veil Brides

Don’t Break Me - Milo Murphy’s Law Soundtrack

For You - Barenaked Ladies

Sober - Tool

Bullets - Archive

Relay - Fiona Apple

Let Me Stay - Heather Maloney

New Radio - Bikini Kill

The Marriage of Bigfoot and Mothman - The Forgetmenauts

What’s With You Lately - Car Seat Headrest

Armarillo - Gorillaz

Dark Lover: A Love Song To A Vampire - Tempest

Smile Like You Mean It - Tally Hall

Fine, I’m Fine - Chonny Jash

Rightfully - Mili

Give It to Me - The Northern Boys

We’re All Leaving - Karine Polwart

Matches - SIFU HOTMAN

Unbroken - Man on the Internet

Hell’s Comin’ With Me - Poor Man’s Poison

Necromancin Dancin - Bear Ghost

I Got No Time - The Living Tombstone

Labyrinth - Miracle Musical

Hello and Goodbye - JT Music

A Poem - AJJ

People 2: The Reckoning - AJJ

Your Voice, As I Remember It - AJJ

The River - Bruce Springsteen

Jungleland - Bruce Springsteen

You Only Know - PhemieC

Girls in Love - PhemieC

Evidence - DaisyxDaisy

Portrait of a Woman on a Couch With Cats - Michael Cera Palin

The Moss - Cosmo Sheldrake

Found (Forever) - Caamp

4 Morant (Better Luck Next Time) - Doja Cat, Com Truise

Box Fort Baby - Papa Jake

Flowers - Eva Noblezada (Hadestown)

You - Keaton Henson

rock + roll - EDEN

Tourniquet - Leanna Firestone

Close to Home - Vienna Teng

Spring and a Storm - Tally Hall

You’re the Reason I Don’t Want the World to End - The Wonder Years

I Earn My Life - Lemon Demon

Twisted - Team Starkid

Time, As A Symptom - Joanna Newson

The Party - Regina Spektor

I’m Just Your Problem - Rebecca Sugar (in Adventure Time)

[usafphantom2]

A CIA Spyplane Crashed Outside Area 51 a Half-Century Ago. This Explorer Found It.

How urban explorers uncovered the site—and the memory—of a covert Cold War–era accident.

Sarah Scoles

composite illustration and picture of a jet in a desert

Stealth A-12 jets were never meant to be seen, then one went missing in the Nevada desert. US Air Force

“OXCART” WAS AN ODD NICKNAME for the plane that killed pilot Walter Ray. Oxcarts are slow, cumbersome, and old. Ray’s A-12 jet, meanwhile, was fast, almost invisible, and novel. Among the US’s first attempts at stealth aircraft, it could travel as quickly as a rifle bullet, and fly at altitudes around 90,000 feet. On a radar screen, it appeared as barely a blip—all the better to spy on Soviets with—and had only one seat.

On January 5, 1967, that single space belonged to Ray, a quiet, clean-cut 33-year-old who spent his workdays inside Area 51, then the CIA’s advanced-aviation research facility. Set atop the dried-up bed of Groom Lake in the Nevada desert, the now-infamous spot made for good runways, and was remote enough to keep prying eyes off covert Cold War projects. On the books, Ray was a civilian pilot for Lockheed Martin. In reality, and in secret, he reported to the CIA.

Ray’s last morning on Earth was chilled and windy, with clouds moving in and preparing to drop snow on the nearby mountains. He took off for his four-hour flight to Florida and back a minute ahead of schedule at 11:59 a.m., the sleek curves of the Oxcart’s titanium body triggering sonic shock waves (booms) as it sliced through the atmosphere. He’d done this many times, having already logged 358 hours in these crafts.

At 3:22 p.m., Ray radioed back to base: His gas was low. “I don’t know where my fuel’s gone to,” he said. He lowered the plane out of the speedy headwinds, hoping to save some fuel. But the altitude change couldn’t cut his consumption enough.

Thirty-eight minutes later, Ray radioed in more bad news.

The fuel tank’s low-pressure lights had blinked on. The A-12′s jet engines—so powerful that the director of central intelligence once said they sounded as if “the Devil himself were blasting his way straight from Hell”—began to fail, then sputtered out.

At 4:02, Ray sent his final known transmission: He was going to eject.

Home Plate—as this group of airmen referred to Area 51—began to search. They hoped to hear a transmission from the shortwave radio in his survival kit. For them, this hunt was also personal. Many worked on the same mission as Ray: developing planes that didn’t exist in a place that didn’t exist, sometimes risking an accident like this, which also wouldn’t exist.

Isolated in the desert, the group of about 30 staffers Barnes worked with on the site’s Special Projects felt like family. “We went up on Monday morning, came home Friday night,” recalls former Area 51 crewmember T.D. Barnes. “We couldn’t tell our wives where we were at or what we were doing.”

At 3:25 p.m. the next day, a helicopter found the plane, strewn across three canyons. The crews cut a road through the sand to schlep out the debris before anyone else found it—and found out about the secret flight.

Two days after takeoff, a CIA aircraft finally spotted Ray’s parachute, and men helicoptered in to locate their comrade. His chute formed a shroud around his body, and his ejection seat sat some 50 yards above him on the hillside. The two hadn’t separated, his parachute hadn’t deployed, and so he had slammed straight into the Earth. Blood spattered the ground, but Ray’s boots still had their spurs.

To explain the aerial search going on, the Air Force told the public a cover story: An SR-71 Blackbird—whose existence had recently been revealed—flying out of Edwards Air Force Base, had gone down.

For years, Ray’s crash sites remained largely hidden from the public. But in the late 1990s, an explorer named Jeremy Krans began what would become a decades-long quest to uncover it all, and ultimately to make Ray’s once-classified life public. “I felt that we needed to do something,” he says, “because nobody knows who the hell Walt is.”

Krans had a pastime that gave him the skills to do something about it: urban exploring, sometimes called “urbex” by the initiated. It’s the art of adventuring in and around abandoned or hidden structures, urban and otherwise. Urbexers scavenger-hunt for sites and then crawl through closed tunnels, scour old buildings, flashlight around finished mines, and trek through old military bases. The community—small and loose but dedicated, lurking and sharing on forums and blogs—is populated by photographers and amateur historians. They like to go places that used to be something else, to someone else. They’ve uncovered spots others likely never knew about, like the New Jersey State Hospital for the Insane and the rainwater drains under Sydney. Krans, once a frequent poster on the urbex forum UER.ca, has always favored defense sites, beginning with empty missile silos and ghostly military installations in his early 20s.

In 1995, he and a group of like-minded friends formed an exploratory crew dubbed “Strategic Beer Command” (a riff on the US’s then-recently disbanded Strategic Air Command). It would be a few years before they’d learn of Ray’s site, but the motivation was already there: a desire to remember what the rest of the world had forgotten.

KRANS’ INTEREST IN AVIATION goes back to the 1980s, when his dad, a machinist fascinated by engineering and innovative planes, would sometimes bring home jet models. Krans’s favorite was the SR-71 Blackbird, a Cylon-ship of a craft, and the follow-on to the A-12 he’d one day search out. Meanwhile, Krans devoured films like Indiana Jones and The Goonies—tales of explorers and treasure-hunters.

His own journey into such journeying began just months after his father passed away. Krans’s employer, a General Motors dealership, had sent him to its Automotive Service Educational Program. He felt lost and listless, and spent hours killing time between classes in the school’s computer lab, largely sucked into websites about Area 51, where he had recently made a road trip. He started reading Bluefire, a blog run by a guy named Tom Mahood. In 1997, Mahood spun a tale of searching for—and finding—a long-lost A-12 crash site. It had taken him more than two years, 20 trips, and $6,000 to replace a sunk truck.

Mahood was a veteran prober of Area 51 secrets, having, for instance, dug into the conspiratorial claims of Bob Lazar, whose stories underpin most of the site’s alien lore. (The site’s true Cold War purpose wouldn’t be acknowledged until 2013.) Mahood first read about the A-12 crash in The Oxcart Story, a 1996 CIA history of the plane’s development, which said only that Ray’s craft had gone down about 70 miles from Groom Lake. That’s not a lot to go on. The lack of information appealed to Krans: a quest.

Before Bluefire, Krans hadn’t heard of an A-12, let alone one that had gone down in the desert. The jet, he soon learned, was a marvel in its time. It could fly nearly four miles higher and four times faster (around 2,200 miles per hour, or nearly three times the speed of sound) than its predecessor, the U-2.

At such speeds, friction with the air heated much of its skin up to 600 degrees Fahrenheit. In the 1960s, the only metal light and tough enough for such a feat was a titanium alloy, which made up 90 percent of the aircraft. The remainder comprised composite materials—relying heavily on iron ferrite and silicone laminate, swirled with asbestos—that absorbed radar, rather than bouncing the waves back to whoever was watching.

That wasn’t the end of the innovation list. The lubricants also had to work at both the extreme temperatures reached while traveling at three times the speed of sound, and at lower, cooler speeds. The engines needed “spike-shaped cones’’ that could slow down, squish, and then superheat the air coming in for better combustion. According to a CIA history of the plane’s development, without the spikes, the engines would only have gotten 20 percent of the required power. Amidst all this, pilots had to don astronaut-ish suits, with their own temperature and pressure controls and oxygen supplies.

While the A-12 represented a big leap forward, its usefulness would be short-lived. The US decided to stop flying over the USSR in 1960 after a U-2 pilot was shot down; satellites had begun to snap recon pictures from orbit; and the A-12 progeny, the SR-71 had performed its first test flight in 1964. The Oxcart flew only 29 missions, between May 1967 and May 1968, in an operation called Black Shield out of East Asia.

Ray was preparing for Black Shield during his final ride, which went sideways due to several factors: a malfunctioning fuel gauge, electrical mishaps, and perhaps an untested modification he himself had added—a common practice for test pilots. Ray, a short man, had added a 2-by-4 to his seat to make the headrest hit right. When he ejected, the wood kept him from separating from the seat, which stopped the parachute from deploying.

It was in that entrapment that Ray lost his life. And it was in that computer lab that Krans decided he needed to go find out where. At the time, it was just another exploration. “It’s Indiana Jones,” he says. “It’s treasure hunting.”

He liked how his explorations changed his conception of the past. “I’ve had a love-hate relationship with history,” he says. Reading stuff in school? Closer to “hate.” But seeking and finding something physical felt different. “You walk back in time, and you say, ‘Okay, what was happening right here if I was here 40 years ago?’” he says. “It gets you thinking.”

So he set out to think about Walt Ray.

KRANS BEGAN COLLECTING information that might lead him to Ray. The accident had left two crash sites, one for the pilot and one for his plane, which rocketed on after Ray ejected. He started with the details Mahood had spilled, which did not include the actual site of the crash. Urbexers don’t like to spoil the ending, or make it too easy for crowds to spoil the site itself, and generally leave what they discover as a mystery for others to keep solving. Maps and satellite images are typically their best tools, supplemented by databases of historical, military, or former industrial sites. UrbexUnderground.com recommends aimlessly following rivers, railroad beds, or rural roads—because those routes usually track development.

Mahood had scoured old newspapers. The Los Angeles Times put reports of the covered-up version of the crash four miles southeast of a Union Pacific Railroad site called Leith; the Las Vegas Review-Journal and the Las Vegas Sun plotted it four miles to Leith’s southwest. Not helpful. He’d searched topographic maps and the land itself, looking for scars on the landscape, or roads that seemed to lead nowhere. Krans gathered all the information he could from Mahood’s descriptions.

Wanting to get more details, Krans told officials a “BS story” and then offered to cover a doughnut bill for the recorder’s office in Pioche, Nevada. Information gathered from the paperwork, which included Ray’s death certificate, revealed that the pilot had died 200 yards east of a particular mining claim, a couple miles from the larger Cherokee mining operation. Krans began to gather his own detailed maps of the area, and negatives of aerial photos. Soon, he knew approximately where Ray had met his end: just off an area called Meadow Valley Wash—a low drainage that flows with water when it storms. The spot was miles from anywhere, on the side of a hill whose poky desert plants scrape anyone who walks by, and over which wild horses keep watch.

The search for Walter Ray

Krans first headed out in the fall of 1998, driving to Cherokee Mine, and searching for plane debris, at a site somewhere farther out than Ray’s landing spot. To try to find that second location, he took pictures, tried to match them to his maps, and marked down the labeled sticks denoting mining claims. Two more subsequent trips, over a few ensuing years, also revealed nothing.

He gave up for a while. But the story kept flying through his mind. Not a good quitter, he ordered more digital photos from the United States Geological Survey (USGS) and filed a Freedom of Information Act request with the CIA. The results offered a few (differing) sets of coordinates for Ray’s hard landing and his plane’s.

The next time Krans went out, in 2005, he took eight people and three trucks. At the time, a flood had washed out the area, leaving 30-foot drops off the side of a narrow road. They uncovered nothing that he was sure came from a downed jet.

When he returned next in 2008, Krans brought along two four-wheelers, companions, and his daughter, Mercedes. At four years old, she’d been hearing about Ray much of her life. All they discovered were water bottles from earlier explorers.

“Something just told us that we were close,” Krans wrote at the time in a post on Roadrunners Internationale’s website, run by Area 51 veteran Barnes. The group aims to preserve the history of those who worked on Area 51′s classified aircrafts during the Cold War—and reunite, digitally and physically, the ones who are left, now that they can freely talk. The Roadrunners, about two dozen strong, have inducted Krans as an “associate member.”

On Krans’s next trip in 2009, he brought old hands and newcomers. One first-timer asked Krans if—after so many years of seeing nothing—he expected to just walk up and uncover the crash site. “Yup,” Krans said around the campfire, a cigar in his mouth and a near-empty beer in his hand. “I’ve been here too many times and know too many places that it wasn’t,” he wrote for the Roadrunners. “Like a life-size game of Battleship, it just can’t hide anymore.”

The next morning, the Commanders began their search where the group had halted the year before. It happened right away: As Krans was walking up a wash offshoot, something synthetic-looking caught his eye. Leaning down, he picked it up. It was an artifact from the A-12.

The others fanned out, and soon found their own pieces. They were right in the middle of the field of debris, left scattered by tragedy more than 40 years before.

Recalling this moment, Krans—who, since graduating from GM, has owned his own car-servicing shop and worked as an HVAC specialist—what it was like to find the site after so long, his voice breaks. “I don’t know how to describe it, I really don’t,” he says.

His limbic system manifests mostly in actions. Such as when, five years later, in 2014, Krans brought a memorial—a model of the A-12, welded to a metal pole—to near Ray’s resting place. He and Mercedes made it. They traced the plane’s edges onto body-shop paper, overlaid it onto a steel plate, and sliced the shape with a plasma cutter. Using a pipe bender from Krans’s old shop, they fabricated the engine housings, which stick out like devilish exhaust pipes.

At one point in their explorations, Mercedes asked her father why they were doing all this.

“Because nobody else did,” Krans told her.

OVER THE 12 YEARS Krans and various Strategic Beer Command adherents had spent seeking, the true goal of their quest had shifted. “As I kept making trips back, I just—” he pauses. “It got to be more about Walt.”

It became about pulling Ray and the other Area 51 workers—like Barnes—out of anonymity and back into existence. “A bunch of these guys, they were ghosts,” he says. “They didn’t exist for that portion of their lives.” A little metal memorial could change that.

On a September day, I attempted to find it. Outside the small town of Caliente in southeast Nevada, the road turned to well-graded dirt, curving around the rocky mountains whose strata mark the tectonics and erosions that led them to their current state.

The much-worse road that winds up to Cherokee Mine doesn’t have a name. At the intersection, Google Maps says only “Turn left.” Deep gravel threatened to strand the tires; cacti aimed to pierce them. At Cherokee Mine, a wild horse watched from the ridge above, still as a monument.

It was hot outside—115 degrees, much different than the morning Ray took off.

In the valley, I stopped following the wash and hiked toward the approximate place where I thought Ray went down, based on a scouring of topographic maps—matched with a picture of the saddle where the recovery helicopter had landed 53 years ago, and a close reading of descriptions from Mahood’s and Krans’s adventures. I scampered up another hill, around its side, back down, up another, and then back to the wash to survey again.

Finally, from the elevation where I started, I saw above me a stick-like object poking up out of a rock just one ridge over. No, I thought. That’s a dead tree. But next to the wood, there it was: a matte black pole poking from the rock, a sculpture at its top. I had been right next to it, just like Krans was when he found the debris field, the remnants of humans past blending within the landscape.

When I reached the spot, a low buzzing came from the scaled-down plane. The wind was sliding across the open ends of its engine housings. Krans didn’t intend for that to happen; it’s just how moving air and open pipes work. “It almost brings a tear to your eye, doesn’t it?” Krans asks me later.

It did. I started thinking of Ray, falling to Earth. Here. Of a secret death to go with his secret life.

Drilled into the rock next to the memorial is a metal sign: Walter L. Ray, it says, the words welded into the plaque. In service of his country, 5 Jan 1967.

Past the Oxcart, there were no other signs of humans. No evidence of their aerospace achievements, wars cold or hot, lives, or deaths. Only this miniaturized A-12, whose silhouette sits stark against scrubby plants—its nose pointed toward Home Plate.

An Army-green ammo box sits nearby, bolted down and hosting notes from those few who’ve visited. Along with a laminated printout of Ray’s story, there’s a handwritten page from Krans, addressed to Ray. “I will always have a beer for you and the boys,” it says. “You guys earned it. And after the Roadrunners organization is gone, know that the memory will live on.”

The Roadrunners are getting older. The last reunion at the time this was written in 2021, which Krans attended, happened in 2015. After that, there weren’t enough of them left. One year at the Nevada Aerospace Hall of Fame annual banquet, which has become something of a makeshift reunion for Roadrunners and their associates, Frank Murray, an A-12 pilot himself, came up to Krans and shook his hand. “You make us remember,” Murray told him.

Memories of their time inside Area 51 are, in fact, all the Roadrunners have of that ghost-like period of their lives. “None of us has ever got to go back out there,” says Barnes. “Once you leave, you’re gone.”

Sarah Scoles is a freelance science journalist and regular Popular Science contributor, who’s been writing for the publication since 2014. She covers the ways that science and technology interact with societal, corporate, and national security interests.